Slices of Japanese business, politics and life
I am ordering vodka and Red Bull at $10 a pop at the bar of a posh Ginza club and a woman dressed as a nurse carrying a silver tray full of syringes taps me on the shoulder.
“Open your mouth!” she says with a wink.
“OK then.” And she squirts some strawberry-flavoured cocktail down my throat.
Moments later another pretty girl dressed in a skin-tight pink rubber “Cat Woman” suit introduces herself as Azusa. “I work at the Torture Dungeon.”
“Of course you do, sweetheart,” I reply, becoming increasingly confused at how this exclusive “Night of the Body” theme party was being passed off as a “fashion event” with so many people having squeezed themselves into rubber, leather and barbed wire. Whatever cracks your whip, I guess.