This man was fiftysomething, with a very expensive suit, top-quality shoes, and a leather briefcase that cost more than some of the electronics in the shop. The clerk figured him for an executive in one of the mid to large companies. Probably an oil company, or something related to petroleum, because he seemed to be getting a lot of those kinds of customers in here lately. This man would have at least one very expensive car, a big house, a pretty wife, a couple of grown kids, no dog. He didn’t look like the dog-owner type. Koi, maybe.
The clerk stood and gave a very slight bow, which is something he only did for certain customers. The store was empty, and the clerk touched a button beneath the counter that switched the OPEN sign to BACK IN FIVE MINUTES, and that also engaged the door lock. The man heard the click and flinched.
The clerk smiled, even more convinced now.
“How may I help you, sir?” he asked.
The man didn’t immediately approach the counter but instead stood where he was, his pink tongue licking nervously at his lips.
“I, um,” began the man. He cut quick looks around the empty shop and then tried again. “I would, um… I mean, do you carry any, um, software.”
There it was. The code word. It not only identified why the man was here but also who sent him. Each of the account managers associated with this shop used a different word. Software, shareware, spyware. Like that. More than three dozen possible keywords. The trick was to ensure that it wasn’t a random word thrown out by an actual customer of an electronics store.
“For installation or download, sir?”
The man swallowed and blinked. He had sweat in his eyes and on his upper lip. “I prefer to, um, download it.”
“Of course, sir, please come this way. We have an excellent selection of programs.” He held out a hand to invite the man to step up to the counter. Then the clerk went behind the counter and tapped on the keys of a keyboard mounted beneath it. The front-window glass immediately darkened, which was a nice little trick of holography. The glass had some reflective qualities, and small projectors mounted amid the ceiling track lights splashed a continuous video loop of the shop as it looked when closed and darkened. The image was 3-D enough so that if someone outside shifted for a better look inside the image would adjust to maintain a normal view. It was quite effective, and was only one of several dozen high-tech features built into the store’s security. It was a complicated world, as the clerk well knew, and you could never be too careful.
Once they were totally free from prying eyes, the clerk tapped another key, which turned the clear glass countertop into an opaque video screen. The businessman grunted in surprise, but bent closer to watch as the clerk brought up an illustrated menu. The pictures were of anime movies featuring young women in outlandish costumes, many with oversized swords or ray guns. The costumes ranged from tight-fitting sequined gowns to period costumes from the days of the Samurai to schoolgirl uniforms. Dozens of choices, and, with a wave of his hand, the clerk indicated how the customer could scroll down to see even more offerings. It was not a touch screen, because touch screens leave fingerprints.
“We have so many choices,” said the clerk. “Did you have something particular in mind? Vintage, perhaps? Or a costume drama…?”
The customer stopped scrolling and his trembling fingers hovered above an image of a child sitting on a tree stump, a stuffed unicorn doll tucked under her arm and her pouting lips tight around the thumb she was sucking. Without speaking, the man looked up at the clerk.
“An excellent choice, sir,” said the clerk. “And you’re in luck, because we received a brand-new shipment only this morning.”
“N-new? How… um… new?”
“Absolutely untouched, sir. You will be the very first customer for this item.”
The businessman licked his lips again. “You’re telling me the truth?”
The clerk smiled. “We take great pride in providing only the best items for your entertainment needs. We are second to none, as I trust you’ve been told.”
He knew that this was exactly what the account manager had said to this man. The sales pitch was very good, based on the results of several studies of sales language and psychological manipulation modeled on personality subtypes. Sell the customer what he wants in the way that makes him feel comfortable, empowered, and satisfied. Sell it in the language of his desire. That was how the regional director always put it.
The businessman looked up sharply, and even though he was still sweating and nervous, there was a fire in his eyes. The man now knew without doubt where he was, what he was doing, and whom he was dealing with. From here out, he would be less tentative as he got closer to what he craved. He would feel more powerful, but the clerk knew that this only made him more manageable; it would be like leading a stallion into a breeding pen. The horse was headstrong, but his needs dictated everything.
“How much is this… item?” demanded the businessman.
The clerk tapped a key that brought up an amount in yen. Most men would stagger back from that figure, but the businessman nodded. He produced a card and tapped the corner with the chip to the spot indicated by the clerk. There was a soft bing, and the money was instantly debited. The clerk noted that the card had no name on it and no numbers. The man had a special account somewhere just for this sort of thing. It meant that he was a true player, and if things went well for him today he would be a repeat customer. The percentage of the fee that the clerk would have to split with the account manager was delicious. Enough to buy a new scooter and maybe take his girlfriend out to a four-star restaurant. Very few sales hit numbers like this. He kept his pleasure off his face, though.
Instead, he cleared the screen, stepped back, and indicated the passageway to the back room, then hurried forward to open the door for the businessman. The clerk wore an expensive electronic watch, and he held the face to the doorknob so that the scanner built into the knob could read the code and release the lock. Key cards were so last year.
The clerk opened the door and ushered his client inside, then closed and locked the door behind him. Now that the store was empty, a whole battery of sensors came online to monitor the store, the street outside, the alley behind the building, and the roof. Nothing was left to chance.
The rooms behind the store were small but luxurious, with expensive furniture, indirect lighting, good carpets, and rich tapestries on the wall. The rooms were arranged in a kind of maze that prevented customers from ever encountering one another. There was no allowance for awkward moments. Not here. Never here.
The clerk led the businessman to a room near the end of a convoluted hallway, and by the time they arrived he was sure the customer would never be able to find his way out. Not without help. That was a tipping opportunity, especially if the man was satisfied with services provided.
The customers who came here were very good tippers. And although management took its cut, the clerk could clear two or three hundred yen each week. Some weeks it was as high as a thousand. The clerk had paid off most of his student loans so far.
“Here we are, sir,” he said as he stopped beside a door covered in rich, dark-red leather. He waved his watch across a sensor, and the door clicked open and swung inward to reveal a very well-appointed bedroom. The bed was in the European style, with an ornate headboard, a rich brocade comforter, and many embroidered pillows. A lamp set to low light stood on a hand-carved wooden table, and beside that was a long rack of toys covered with a silk draping. Each of the many whips, chains, handcuffs, dildos, leather masks, and other items was brand-new and of the highest quality. The girl who stood beside the bed had her hands folded in front of her, head bowed, eyes politely lowered, long fall of black hair hanging below her shoulders. She was dressed in a school uniform of the kind worn by first graders in the better private schools.