When I first heard about Japanese Love Hotels I thought “What the fuck?” Then I thought “Hmmm…intriguing”. Then I looked them up on the internet and threw up a little because having sex while you are tied to a pink piano in a Hello Kitty bondage room is just not normal. That was my introduction to what love hotels are. Your introduction to Love Hotels is going to be way less disturbing because I’m actually in a love hotel in Tokyo researching this story for you and there are no pianos here at all. Or possibly it’s going to be way more disturbing if you’re actually related to me, in which case you probably shouldn’t read this because I’m about to write about my forays into an underground world of International sexual deviancy. Except replace “forays into an underground world of International sexual deviancy” with “I just took a lot of pictures of myself in mildly compromising positions and the whole time Victor was yelling at me that the place was going to get raided and that I was ruining any chance he had of ever becoming a senator”. So yeah, I need a goddamn raise and a personal photographer. And also a lawyer and a bail agent. And someone to tell me I look pretty in hats. Because Victor sucks at that almost as much as he sucks at taking me to back-alley sex parlors in the middle of Tokyo. I am wasted on that man.
So…Love Hotels. Remember back in the 70’s, when Vegas had those Romance Hotels and they had giant tacky champagne glasses for people to climb up and have sex in? Me either because I was in kindergarten then. But that’s kind of what Japanese Love Hotels are like except that it’s not for “romantic honeymooners”. It’s for people who want to have sex in a doctor’s office. Or in a cave. Or inside a dog cage. Or a in classroom where they are dominated by a Japanese school girl. Or you could do what I did and beg your husband to take you “BECAUSE IT’S MY JOB, YOU JUDGEMENTAL BASTARD” and then when you get there make him order and pay for the room because you don’t speak Japanese well enough. Then he’ll glare at you while you wander off to stare in horrified awe at the electric double-dildo drilling machine in the lobby that is available for rent by the hour. I almost took a picture of it but the lady at the front desk glared at me when I turned my camera on and I didn’t want her to think I was a freak so instead I took a picture of the exit sign because then it just looks like I’m responsible and concerned about fire safety.
By the way, there are also Love Hotels in Japan that just look like regular hotel rooms but this is not one of them. Love Hotels are mainly used because in Japan so many people live with their parents or have apartments with paper-thin walls so they stay at a hotel-by-the-hour when they get tired of having sex in their car. Which makes sense, I guess, and I did look at those moderate and sedate Love Hotels but they all looked like rather banal Ramada Inns so instead I went to the most bizarre Love Hotel I could find.
You people owe me.
Most of the really fucked-up rooms were too expensive to rent so I settled for the dungeon themed room…
…and the elderly woman at the front desk who you could only see from a tiny hole in the wall insisted that we pay in advance for our “2 hour rest”. Then she screamed at Victor “YOU GET TWO HOUR ONLY!” and Victor’s all “That’s fine” and she shrieked “TWO HOUR ONLY!” and he was all “I DON’T EVEN NEED TWO HOURS, LADY]”. Then he asked for a receipt and she’s all “No receipts!” and I’m all “Dude. People don’t want to keep records of this kind of thing. Just drop it” and he’s all “BULL-SHIT. If you’re making me do this you are at least going to claim it on your taxes” which was inappropriate because 1) it made me sound like he was my horribly reluctant pimp, 2) I don’t want to have to explain that receipt to our accountant and 3) you do not yell in the lobby of a Love Hotel. You whisper and slunk and look a little bit ashamed and never make eye contact. Also, you wear some sort of disguise so people won’t recognize you even if you’re in another country. This was easy for me since I wear a wig most of the time anyway but Victor refused to even let me draw a fake beard on him because he’s not a team player. Then I looked at the costumes you can rent in the lobby and Victor was all “Can we just get this over with? You don’t need to spend any more money on a damn costume” and the bellboy pointed toward our room and I wondered why they even had a bellboy since no one ever had luggage and the lady yelled after us “TWO HOUR! YOU GET TWO HOUR ONLY!” and Victor was all “I GOT IT, LADY.” And She’s all “TWO HOUR!!!” and I can only assume she did that because we must have looked like another couple who took way more than two hours in the past. I whispered that to Victor and he was all “I JUST WANT A DAMN RECIEPT.” Then I hit him to get him to shut up because getting arrested for disturbing the peace at church or someplace with decorum is occasionally unavoidable, but getting arrested for disturbing the peace in a sex hotel in Japan is just careless. So I assured the lady as we headed for the room: “Honestly, this is going to take like 10 minutes tops” and Victor grumbled “More like 5” and the bellboy just laughed. I did too but not until we were inside the room and by then the door was shut and it was too late for Victor to defend his virility and explain that we were just here to take pictures. Instead he just stood in the foyer of our suite, smoldering, and refused to walk in. But only for like the first 15 seconds because when I wandered through the prison doors into the main room I yelled “HOLY SHIT. IS THAT A PONY?!” and then Victor peeked in because how can you not come into a hotel room that has a pony in it? You can’t. But turns out, it was a plastic pony with handcuffs on it that I guess you can have sex on? Which is kind of weirder than having a real, live pony in your room. Not by much though.
Then Victor yelled at me about me not taking my shoes off because it’s disrespectful to leave them on inside a room in Japan but this is a room with a sex pony in it so there was no way I was going to take my shoes off. In fact, I looked around for shower caps to protect my shoes from the germs on the floor but instead of complimentary shower caps they had a wall of complimentary whips and bondage equipment.
Plus, by then I’d found all the switches to turn on all the strange red lights and suddenly I was facing a medieval dungeon, if a dungeon also had a plastic pony, some sort of exercise equipment and a glass bathroom so you can watch someone use the toilet.
This is when I got kind of paralyzed with WTF-ness and I just stood there. Victor was all “What. have. you. done?”
Then I noticed the boxes of kleenex everywhere and couldn’t stop giggling.
Victor thought I’d lost my mind and just backed slowly into the foyer and told me he’d wait for me there, which was fine because I decided I’d just do a few artful shots of the electric blowjob machine and the chains hanging from the walls but then I was all “Hang on. I need someone to take a picture of me on the pony” and Victor was very grumpy about it so I threatened to call the bellboy to help me and so he huffed noisily and did it but quite angrily and that’s when I noticed the giant mirrored wall in the dungeon, which didn’t seem to fit the rest of the brick-and-mortar look of the place and that’s when I realized that it was probably a two-way mirror and that the room next door to us was probably the voyeur room and that those poor people were clearly going to be very disappointed.
And I couldn’t even get the pony and the cages into the right positions for all the shots so basically the voyeurs probably spent most of the time watching me rearrange furniture in an S&M dungeon.
Also I put a thick layer of toilet paper down on the pony and everything else that I sat on because ew. And I’m not judging you if you like this kind of room and aren’t as germophobic about bodily fluids as I am because whatever makes you happy is totally all right by me but what makes me happy is not getting VD from a plastic pony. That’s kind of my thing.
Then Victor got mad at me for not hurrying fast enough and threatened to just lock me in the prison so I wouldn’t get into trouble and then come back for me when the two hours were up. And I was all “Really? Like I couldn’t get in trouble inside prison?” and he sighed because basically there’s no place that’s safe to leave me.
Then I asked Victor what this thing was…
…and he looked at it and said he had no idea and so I tried to pull on the top bar and it was a little sticky and I accidentally screamed involuntarily and Victor was all “Why would you even touch that?!” but I couldn’t stop staring at it while I obsessively scrubbed my hands with wet-wipes because why does it need Astro-turf? What does it do? What the fuck, Japan? You’ve gone too far when I can’t even recognize what your sex toys are supposed to do. And that’s when I realized that I quite possibly had the most fucked-up idea for a contest ever. Go to the forum below and tell me what the hell you think this thing does. Best answers get free Hello Kitty Vibrators or Geisha sex books. Because I know how to stick to a theme.
Then I tried this thing but I think I must have been using it wrong.
Then we left and Victor went to turn in the key to the lady and was all “See. 10 minutes flat. But I really do need a receipt” and she was all “No receipt!” and I already knew this would end badly because one time I didn’t get a receipt for a $15 taxi ride and Victor was pissed off about that for weeks and here we’d just spent $200 to just spend 10 minutes in a room that felt like the guy from Eight Millimeter was going to burst in and challenge you to a penis fight and then the loser would get raped by the gimp from Pulp Fiction so I tried to calm Victor down but he was adamantly insisting “All I want is a receipt. I mean, we shouldn’t even have to pay full price. We were only in there for like 5 minutes.” And I’m all “Let’s go, honey” and Victor’s all “YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN HAVE TO CLEAN ANYTHING, FOR GOD’S SAKE.” And I’m like “Yeah, but they’re probably going to have to give a refund to the voyeurs in the room next door since we didn’t have sex for them” and then he just sighed and shook his head like he was wondering when his life turned into this.
And that’s my story of the time I went to a Japanese sex hotel but didn’t actually have sex, but I did name a plastic sex pony and almost got arrested because my husband has a thing for tax deductions. It’s kind of complicated.