weren’t scaled to the size of the room. Just two simple couches, long and low-backed, covered in plain neutral brown fabric. Two tan chairs sat opposite each other in front of a fireplace. A coffee table, end tables, a leather bench, and several floor lamps finished the space.
He hadn’t scattered personal items on the horizontal surfaces. No family pictures. No accolades from his jujitsu career.
Art hung here and there. One picture contained a graphic scene—a fat Japanese man opened his robe, exposing his exaggerated genitalia to a disheveled geisha cowering on the ground. Two more similar in theme hung next to it. One with a long-haired samurai wielding a sword at a snarling tiger standing in front of massacred bodies. The last picture featured a crouching Japanese man, naked, his oversized genitalia resting on the ground. In front of him was a half-clothed woman, tied to a post in some fancy rope configuration, and the man held her foot, licking the sole with an enlarged tongue.
From behind her, Ronin said, “Those are shunga prints.”
“Interesting decorating choice.”
“They’re heavy with symbolism, not at all what they appear to be on the surface.”
Ironic that description could also be applied to him?
They skirted a wall that divided the living spaces but didn’t reach the ceiling or the other two walls and left a large gap by the floor. Gave the illusion of a floating wall, which was cool.
A dining room and kitchen area took up the entire side.
She frowned. For the size of the building, the main living spaces seemed off.
“Something wrong?” Ronin asked in that deep and sexy voice.
“I just was trying to grasp the area spatially. The dojo, for being divided into smaller training areas, seems much bigger than this open space. Since I know the building is the same dimension on the bottom as it is on the top, it’s throwing me off.”
Ronin took her hand. “Very astute observation. As a single man, I don’t need seven thousand square feet of living space. The remodel chopped the top floor in half. So this is roughly four thousand square feet.”
“So you don’t use the other half of this floor for offices or anything?”
“No.” He skirted another long floating wall that created a corridor between the living areas. He opened the first door. “Guest bedroom.”
Amery wasn’t sure if he expected her to nod and move on, but she wanted to see the space because it actually had personality. Two bright red club-type chairs were arranged in front of a window, creating a small sitting area. A queen-sized bed with an ornately carved headboard with red lacquered accents took up the far wall. The floors were wood. Sisal rugs with red borders were scattered throughout. She wandered to the open doorway in the corner and stepped into a large bathroom. The shower stall walls looked like rice paper; the bathroom sink was a polished teak bowl atop a black lacquered cabinet. All the accents were red. “Great room, but does it make your guests want to stay longer?”
“I discourage that.”
She laughed.
Between the guest bedroom and the next room was the main bathroom, which also carried the wood, black, and red theme. The next room housed an enormous blank wall for what looked like a projection-screen TV, a pool table, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall that were filled with DVDs and CDs. No snapshots or funky kitschy things either. Just out of curiosity she approached the shelf. Yep. The titles were alphabetized. That made her smile.
“Do you spend much time in here?” she asked.
“Not as much as one would think.”
Cryptic.
Ronin took her hand and she knew the next stop would be his bedroom. He bypassed the next door, which had a lock on it.
“What’s that room?”
“Storage.”
“Got valuables locked up in there?”
“A few things.” Ronin opened the last door. “This is my bedroom.”
Her face flushed.
He led her inside and released her hand.
The white carpet
He hadn’t scattered personal items on the horizontal surfaces. No family pictures. No accolades from his jujitsu career.
Art hung here and there. One picture contained a graphic scene—a fat Japanese man opened his robe, exposing his exaggerated genitalia to a disheveled geisha cowering on the ground. Two more similar in theme hung next to it. One with a long-haired samurai wielding a sword at a snarling tiger standing in front of massacred bodies. The last picture featured a crouching Japanese man, naked, his oversized genitalia resting on the ground. In front of him was a half-clothed woman, tied to a post in some fancy rope configuration, and the man held her foot, licking the sole with an enlarged tongue.
From behind her, Ronin said, “Those are shunga prints.”
“Interesting decorating choice.”
“They’re heavy with symbolism, not at all what they appear to be on the surface.”
Ironic that description could also be applied to him?
They skirted a wall that divided the living spaces but didn’t reach the ceiling or the other two walls and left a large gap by the floor. Gave the illusion of a floating wall, which was cool.
A dining room and kitchen area took up the entire side.
She frowned. For the size of the building, the main living spaces seemed off.
“Something wrong?” Ronin asked in that deep and sexy voice.
“I just was trying to grasp the area spatially. The dojo, for being divided into smaller training areas, seems much bigger than this open space. Since I know the building is the same dimension on the bottom as it is on the top, it’s throwing me off.”
Ronin took her hand. “Very astute observation. As a single man, I don’t need seven thousand square feet of living space. The remodel chopped the top floor in half. So this is roughly four thousand square feet.”
“So you don’t use the other half of this floor for offices or anything?”
“No.” He skirted another long floating wall that created a corridor between the living areas. He opened the first door. “Guest bedroom.”
Amery wasn’t sure if he expected her to nod and move on, but she wanted to see the space because it actually had personality. Two bright red club-type chairs were arranged in front of a window, creating a small sitting area. A queen-sized bed with an ornately carved headboard with red lacquered accents took up the far wall. The floors were wood. Sisal rugs with red borders were scattered throughout. She wandered to the open doorway in the corner and stepped into a large bathroom. The shower stall walls looked like rice paper; the bathroom sink was a polished teak bowl atop a black lacquered cabinet. All the accents were red. “Great room, but does it make your guests want to stay longer?”
“I discourage that.”
She laughed.
Between the guest bedroom and the next room was the main bathroom, which also carried the wood, black, and red theme. The next room housed an enormous blank wall for what looked like a projection-screen TV, a pool table, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall that were filled with DVDs and CDs. No snapshots or funky kitschy things either. Just out of curiosity she approached the shelf. Yep. The titles were alphabetized. That made her smile.
“Do you spend much time in here?” she asked.
“Not as much as one would think.”
Cryptic.
Ronin took her hand and she knew the next stop would be his bedroom. He bypassed the next door, which had a lock on it.
“What’s that room?”
“Storage.”
“Got valuables locked up in there?”
“A few things.” Ronin opened the last door. “This is my bedroom.”
Her face flushed.
He led her inside and released her hand.
The white carpet
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