Tokyo Diary – brand fiction to support men’s and women’s 2006 sales catalogue. 2 parallel stories depicting the experiences of an English guy and a Japanese girl meeting one night in Tokyo.

One day one night, on a stop off to top off a long haul flight. ‘Go Tokyo’ someone suggested ‘Great place, great people, great scene’. I asked ‘have you been?’……….

Now I wipe a jet lag red eye as bright lights flash by and blur in the rising sun. Morning’s dawning to greet the digital dayglo neon parade. there’s nowhere to hide, no shade. Day meets night, but one’s no brighter than the other.

In the back of the cab I remember I’ve got the number of a lover of a mate from work I once knew – it’s scribbled on the back of a beermat from a half forgotten drunken night a month or two ago.

Can’t pronounce the name properly. Doesn’t matter anyway. Keep getting through to her oriental trans-continental voicemail - a sweet sing song voice like a skipping stone bouncing on ice. Is it the operator? Is it my contact? I mess up the message and call back again.

I’m far out, far away, far east – on a solo mission, tuned in to a new transmission; A fresh frequency for one night only. Anything goes.

‘Shibuyu!’ The driver barks as we land slap bang in the city centre. I pay the man, step into the fast lane and don’t step off until I’m back on the plane. I meant to book a hotel – what the hell? No bag no room no need. I feed my greed and have a good sniff around at ground level.

Everywhere I look I see cultures clash; trash and tradition, innocents caught in uncompromising positions. Surrounded by formality everything’s a ceremony shrouded in mystery, ancient history rubbing up next to fast forward future technology.

A few shops later, eyes blinking at the scale the speed and the way of things when my mobile rings. It’s her – my contact – 'Hello it's Hariko'. She talks I listen. Her English is infectious and fizzy, full of delight – we make a plan I can write on my hand – ‘see you. see you. see you later.’

And she’s standing there, right on time, a futuristic yoko ono in a mini kimono – old school and brand new mixed up together cleverly. She’s out for the night, I’m dressed for the day. We seem like total opposites, but you know what they say………

‘Want to come party?’ I’m tired. It’s late. I’ve nowhere to stay. I’m up for it, just don’t want to seem too keen. ‘Okay’, I say ‘you’re on’.

And on we go, all night long, I get dragged from sake houses to a back stage party after some show. The lights join up, her skin glows out of focus out of time. Then there’s a minor media frenzy in the basement car park of a high rise mall. I don’t know why – I don’t bother asking. I take what I’m given. Which is plenty.

Girls laugh, bulbs flash and popsnap as bright plastic packs crackle underfoot –we change route to make our next stop by a karaoke noodle shop – and there’s a Japanese Engelbert Humperdink singing ‘Please release me let go’ How do they know……?..

In the back of the car we start giggling hysterically – and next thing I know she jumps right on top of me and I’m not saying yes and I’m not saying no till she bites my lip and that’s it – I’m ready. Let’s go.

We screech to a halt outside a closed down shop and she pushes me up against the shutters, her fake eyelashes flutter as she grabs me hard and inhales me deep. She tastes sweet and glossy. The moans and groans are high pitched and breathless. I’m dragged up an alley to her tiny compartment apartment where day meets night. Boy meets Girl. East meets West – it’s a natural fact. Opposites Attract

She drops me at the station, leaving a sticky scarlet smudge on the side of my face, a sugar whispered breath and a grin from ear to ringing ear.

Dog-rough, tired and wired, I lift off from the runway with a thousand and one instant memories and a photo sticker of her face in a space hat from an arcade machine that flickers and fades into the slipstream of a half dream. And as quick as it appeared, Tokyo is gone.