Description
His chest puffed against the t-shirt he wore underneath — the t-shirt was also sparkling clean, maybe brand-new. He removed that just as carefully as his other clothes, and he meticulously folded it. He placed it on top of his button-down shirt, stepped back and then re-folded them both after sizing up how perfect the folds were.
Now that Wuzu’s massive chest was bare, Teddy was aroused enough by that to distract him from his discomfort with the situation. Wuzu had broad, strapping shoulders, with colorful tattoos covering his upper body — green and black koi fish circled his bicep, while an array of geometric designs danced over his flat belly. A Japanese flag and a Shinto temple stretched over his broad back muscles, while a series of letters and numbers on the small of his back looked like a prison cell number.
Wuzu was not huge, but he was ripped, almost painfully devoid of fat, like his muscles had overgrown his bones. His skin looked perfectly smooth now, but Teddy saw hints that he had not always — old scars, a faded spot on one tattoo, a dry patch on his left elbow. He stank intensely of deodorant, not a scented kind, something medicinal and camphoric, maybe even prescription deodorant.
From Wuzu the Yakuza
