Service and/or Provider's Name:
Kirari Deai Cafe -- Ikebukuro
Date of Encounter:
April 3, 2018
Contact Method:
http://cafe-kirari.com/store_info/?sid=1
Appointment Length & Costs:
1 hour looking (4200 shop), 1 hour date (20,000 girl, 1200 shop, 4500 LH, 1300 ramen)
Type/Location:
Met in the shop and went to LH nearby
Language Notes:
Japanese Only
Details of the Encounter:
This is actually the final act of the Three Act play NED's Adventures in Ikebukuro.
Having dragged my azure gonads from two sekukyaba in the area (if you follow the link above, you can actually see one of them to the immediate left of Kirari, called Kurenai), I decided to try my hand (or perhaps more accurately another body part) at a deai cafe just for the achievement. I had read about them here on TAG and couldn't bear the thought of there being a place where I could window-shop for babes that I hadn't actually been to. So, ignoring the lukewarm-to-worse reviews on TAG, I wandered into Cafe Kirari at about 3 p.m. on a lovely spring Tuesday.
For those completely unfamiliar with the system -- a group which included me until about 3:10 p.m. on this lovely spring Tuesday -- please allow me to explain. The process has four steps which the cafe calls the "flow" I guess to make it seem more cool like a hiphop song. Step One (I refuse to call it “Flow One”), you pay two 2100 yen fees, totaling 4200. Why there are two separate fees completely escaped me. Probably so they can raise or lower one or the other at will. Step two, you wander downstairs to the big, posh room where you and other eligible young bachelors ogle a vast selection of gorgeous young women from behind the safety of a one-way mirror. Except that it isn't big, it's tiny, and it's about as posh as the waiting room in a really low-grade fashion health, with padded rails you can lean on and enjoy the feel of the ripped and fraying padding abrading your elbows, and at 3 p.m. on a lovely spring Tuesday, there were only three girls to be ogled by the mostly older-than-me salarymen who seemed mostly occupied with smoking and ducking down to try to look up the girls' skirts. And the girls, for their part, could not even generously be described as gorgeous. In fact, Step Two evoked an emotion similar to the one I had the first time I walked into a bar near an airport with a mostly burned-out neon sign that said TOTALLY NUDE WOMEN. It made me feel, on the whole, rather bad about myself for being there.
Still, the ACHIEVEMENT GET! pop-up hadn't popped up on my life screen yet, so I wandered back and forth in the roughly 20' x 4' room (slightly L-shaped) looking at the info cards placed approximately in front of each girl's position (or, I later found out, in some cases a completely different girl's position) and read their names, ages (all 18-22), "three sizes" when they bothered to put them down, the types of dates they were willing to go on (these included food, alcohol, karaoke and, I think, "other") and the types of men they like: Nice, fun, and/or older. In almost every case, all three were circled. I mean, who likes nice people but not fun people? Or vice versa? And if you're an under-30 girl hoping to score some spending money in a Kirari, you'd better put that you like older men or you might as well spend the day thumbing your smartphone in a train station restroom (minus the snacks, which were only offered on the girls' side of the mirror). The cards also had photos which mostly had the girls' hands in front of their faces, which seemed silly since their faces in real life on the other side of the glass were not obscured, and it made it hard to see if the card really belonged to the girl (which, in at least one case, it didn't).
After about 15 minutes of this, I left the shop. Part of Step One, you see, is that you can return anytime before 11:30 p.m. for free if you want, to see if there are more girls. And return I did, at about 4:45 p.m. and lo and behold there were about five girls in there, four of them rather larger than the average Asian woman in terms of girth, and the fifth one -- I don't know. There was just something hard looking about her. Like she might cut you if you got out of line. Two of these other girls were big big, one was just kind of chubby and plain, and the last of the batch, Aya, had a rather cute face and a stylish cropped-bangs Cleopatra haircut that I kind of liked. Her card said she was 22, she was down for some karaoke, and she liked NICE, FUN, OLDER men. I met the eligibility criteria, so I decided to proceed to Step Three, the negotiation.
To enter Step Three, you take the girl’s info card from it's plastic holder on the counter in front of her (and this is how they get scrambled when either a girl decides to change seats or the tencho puts the wrong card in the wrong place upon one's return to the pool after a failed negotiation). Then you write your name, blood type, age, circumference of your left testicle (I don't know... I only read about 300 kanji, man) and what you want to do on this date onto a paper form of your own and you take them both upstairs.
It's a bit intimidating -- at least for a guy like me -- to summon the pluck to actually go for Step Three. See, any bored, young girl with a smartphone is going to radiate a near-lethal case of Resting Bitch Face (RBF) as she thumbs that gorilla glass screen searching for, let's assume, a good kosher deli or an accurate Japanese translation of Stephen Hawking's final paper. Put five of them together all waiting for an ancient lecher like me to offer them coin for their virtue and the RBF amplitude gets so intense you get the distinct impression the one-way glass might shatter and rain down on the three old Japanese guys crouching down trying to see up a skirt or two.
But I shook off the sense of doom and thought, "She's just going to tell the tencho "no gaijin" anyway, so let's go for it." I marked on the card that I was 107 years old, had type HIV+ blood, and I wanted karaoke and enough o-sake to anesthetize a rhinoceros -- or at least that one girl over in the corner who probably hails from Gunma Prefecture. Since "hot sex" wasn't a choice on the card, I marked "other" though I considered writing it in if my katakana skills were better. I bounded up the stairs as fast as my walker would take me and handed my card, her card, and the two little business card things the guy had given me at Step One (one for each 2100 yen fee?) and he told me to go wait in curtained booth #5. Just try looking cool and suave in booth #5, waiting to proposition a girl significantly younger than half your age. I gave up. Aya arrived presently and was carrying a little timer in her hand. The shop gives you a time limit for Step Three, lest you waste valuable time chatting with the girl instead of getting on your merry way (which is Step Four and which costs more money, but I get ahead of myself). I forget the time limit, probably 10-15 minutes. It’s plenty, believe me, even if you’re a klutz first-timer like me. Aya sat next to me, and confirmed when I asked that she was OK with foreigners. I apologized for being foreign, for being old, and for wearing only a threadbare hospital nightgown that didn’t cover my ass. I also apologized for being a first-timer and begged her indulgence to sort of work with me through the system. She turned out to be cautiously friendly (once separated from the RBF collective, though science hasn’t ruled out quantum entanglement in RBF) and more or less said we were going to discuss what we were going to do, for how long, and how much it would cost (me). I said I’d like to go to karaoke and then to a love hotel.
“How long, total?” she asked.
“Ummm… two hours, I guess?” I answered. Hey, I hadn’t expected to make it through the RBF level to Step Three, so I was unprepared. It’s like pre-flop raising and having no plan for how the hand will play post-flop, amirite?
She nodded and stared at me first expectantly, then blankly, and finally the sub-particle entanglement reached from downstairs and started realigning her expression into that of an unhappy young Japanese girl with better things to do. That’s when it hit me it was my turn to raise, call or fold.
“So, uh, how much would that be?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, which confused me. “How much?”
“Oh, I have to say the first number?” I asked, knowing full well the first person to say a number usually loses in haggling.
She nodded.
“Um… 20,000?”
She nodded but then said, but with an hour of karaoke…? How about 30,000?”
“Maybe next time,” I said, knowing I had spent a chunk of my walking-around cash on sekukyaba and assuming she didn’t personally take credit cards. “This time, the figure is 20,000, so now you have to tell me what you’ll do for that.”
We agreed on one hour hotel time for that figure, and I agreed to condom usage, and we got up and marched toward the desk to consummate Step Four.
In Step Four, you pay the shop one last fee, I want to say it was 1200 yen this time, to go on your date. The guy cheerfully reminds you to keep your two cards (which you have to bring to the desk along with the little trifold clipboard they give you at Step One) because you can get in for free all the way up to 11:30 in case one date isn’t enough for you tonight. I thought, does this guy know me or what?
We took off like a bolt of greased pigeon poo down the street in the direction of the love hotels, and my date seemed to know the way. I asked if she was from Ikebukuro and she said no, she’s from Shinjuku but she doesn’t want to deai close to home. Within a minute or two, we were at Hotel Zebra, though we could have chosen Chocolat and about two or three others. Zebra had one room available, so we took it, and it was the kind where you pay at the automatic machine at your room’s actual door. I guess that saves on front desk staff and may seem more private, though you run the risk of being forever locked in your room and starving to death if you take something from the minibar and don’t have the cash to pump into the machine to unlock the door.
So, I guess this is Step Five, and that’s where she got naked and I thought wow, she’s actually a lot bigger than I thought she was. I liked her face throughout, which I thought was cute with that haircut and very nice lips, but in her underwear she just looked plus-sized and while out of it she looked better, she was very hippy and she had the kind of nipples I don’t favor. That’s all personal preference, though. I’m sure there was a lot about me she didn’t like, such as being old, foreign, overweight (again, dammit, I put back on the 35 pounds I had lost by last August) and arguably stupid based on the dumb shit I was saying. So, as for the service? Not bad, really. A little impersonal, in that there was no kissing and while she cuddled a bit, she clearly wasn’t into it. She told me she didn’t like her neck kissed (ticklish) so there went a favorite of mine, but she seemed to like it when I paid attention to her boobs, which looked smaller when out of her bra and she did get a bit wet during FIV play. She felt good to hold (bigger girls often do) and she gave me a pretty damn nice BBBJ for a little bit to get 子Ned jumpstarted before putting the cap on him. It was actually really nice, I’d say the best part and I would have liked just doing that. But she seemed to expect FS, so I climbed on and did my best, though we were in missionary and I sometimes struggle to get comfortable in that position, always feeling like I can’t get the right angle without making my own back and knees uncomfortable and/or squishing the girl under me. And speaking of squishing, she offered CG but I chose not to accept this time. I finally got a rhythm going and while she wasn’t super into it she wasn’t a dead fish either, though no kissing allowed (or at least not reciprocated and it clearly made her uncomfortable) and I must say I did like looking at her face during the act. A thought threatened my erection, something along the lines of “Dude, what the fuck are we doing banging a 22yo chubby girl in goddamn Ikebukuro on a Tuesday afternoon… is this what we’ve become?” The answer came, “Become? Were we ever not like this?” about the time I pulled out, yanked off the Jimmy Hat and whitewashed her navel.
Once that was done, she got doubly friendly, though she was never particularly unfriendly before. We showered (separately, though not on purpose — she was faster than me in getting there) and bathed separately (again a matter of timing and it was a 1-minute bath) and then we were out the door. She asked if I wanted to go eat ramen with her, and though my iWatch was giving me the stinkeye (or maybe the iStink) because it was past time I needed to hop a long and crowded train ride home, I thought aw what the hell, it’s sweet of her to ask.
And then we got to the shop and my head turned into one of those suckers like in an old cartoon...
She wanted me to pay for her dinner.
Which I did. It was 1300 yen, big whoop. We chatted about food and I don’t remember what else. It’s hard to come up with good idle chatter topics between an American male of my age and a Japanese girl of her age, but “bless my heart” I do try, gentlemen; I do try. The ramen was particularly good, actually, and by the end of it she asked if I wanted her LINE contact info. I was so thrilled about actually having LINE (I just got it like two days ago — I’m so young and with it now!) that I said sure and I scanned her QR code and she sent me a bunny sticker, for Easter I guess. Hopefully not for fertility.
So now with her Line info, I suppose if I ever want to see her again — which will be difficult since I’m ramping up to leave Japan for my annual six-month sojourn and this time I may not be coming back to stay — I can bypass Kirari and save some Noguchis to spend on ramen. Or karaoke.
Or therapy.
Final Thoughts:
Recommended, May Repeat.
Closing Comments:
Thinking of the shop, here and not the girl, there are a lot of Kirari locations, and I'm guessing Shinjuku or Shibuya may have more attractive girls and maybe more of them. But more attractive (physically) doesn't mean they are fun to be with. All in all, 20,000 yen (plus plus plus, of course) for FS in a LH and a Line invitation to perhaps do it without the shop costs and get more friendly next time isn't a bad deal. Ikebukuro is approximately, let me check the map... 9,000,000 miles from my house, so it's not an easy trek. Besides, I'm leaving Japan again soon, and possibly forever this time (back just long enough to pack and move in the winter). So, WILL I repeat? Seems unlikely, given the time/distance problem. WOULD I repeat? Eh, sure. I think I probably would. I think I'd drop into a Kirari sometime when I was bored, and I think I'd hit up Aya on Line to see if she wants to do karaoke this time and maybe get more of that BBBJ, which was pretty good and she looked good doing it.
Kirari Deai Cafe -- Ikebukuro
Date of Encounter:
April 3, 2018
Contact Method:
http://cafe-kirari.com/store_info/?sid=1
Appointment Length & Costs:
1 hour looking (4200 shop), 1 hour date (20,000 girl, 1200 shop, 4500 LH, 1300 ramen)
Type/Location:
Met in the shop and went to LH nearby
Language Notes:
Japanese Only
Details of the Encounter:
This is actually the final act of the Three Act play NED's Adventures in Ikebukuro.
Having dragged my azure gonads from two sekukyaba in the area (if you follow the link above, you can actually see one of them to the immediate left of Kirari, called Kurenai), I decided to try my hand (or perhaps more accurately another body part) at a deai cafe just for the achievement. I had read about them here on TAG and couldn't bear the thought of there being a place where I could window-shop for babes that I hadn't actually been to. So, ignoring the lukewarm-to-worse reviews on TAG, I wandered into Cafe Kirari at about 3 p.m. on a lovely spring Tuesday.
For those completely unfamiliar with the system -- a group which included me until about 3:10 p.m. on this lovely spring Tuesday -- please allow me to explain. The process has four steps which the cafe calls the "flow" I guess to make it seem more cool like a hiphop song. Step One (I refuse to call it “Flow One”), you pay two 2100 yen fees, totaling 4200. Why there are two separate fees completely escaped me. Probably so they can raise or lower one or the other at will. Step two, you wander downstairs to the big, posh room where you and other eligible young bachelors ogle a vast selection of gorgeous young women from behind the safety of a one-way mirror. Except that it isn't big, it's tiny, and it's about as posh as the waiting room in a really low-grade fashion health, with padded rails you can lean on and enjoy the feel of the ripped and fraying padding abrading your elbows, and at 3 p.m. on a lovely spring Tuesday, there were only three girls to be ogled by the mostly older-than-me salarymen who seemed mostly occupied with smoking and ducking down to try to look up the girls' skirts. And the girls, for their part, could not even generously be described as gorgeous. In fact, Step Two evoked an emotion similar to the one I had the first time I walked into a bar near an airport with a mostly burned-out neon sign that said TOTALLY NUDE WOMEN. It made me feel, on the whole, rather bad about myself for being there.
Still, the ACHIEVEMENT GET! pop-up hadn't popped up on my life screen yet, so I wandered back and forth in the roughly 20' x 4' room (slightly L-shaped) looking at the info cards placed approximately in front of each girl's position (or, I later found out, in some cases a completely different girl's position) and read their names, ages (all 18-22), "three sizes" when they bothered to put them down, the types of dates they were willing to go on (these included food, alcohol, karaoke and, I think, "other") and the types of men they like: Nice, fun, and/or older. In almost every case, all three were circled. I mean, who likes nice people but not fun people? Or vice versa? And if you're an under-30 girl hoping to score some spending money in a Kirari, you'd better put that you like older men or you might as well spend the day thumbing your smartphone in a train station restroom (minus the snacks, which were only offered on the girls' side of the mirror). The cards also had photos which mostly had the girls' hands in front of their faces, which seemed silly since their faces in real life on the other side of the glass were not obscured, and it made it hard to see if the card really belonged to the girl (which, in at least one case, it didn't).
After about 15 minutes of this, I left the shop. Part of Step One, you see, is that you can return anytime before 11:30 p.m. for free if you want, to see if there are more girls. And return I did, at about 4:45 p.m. and lo and behold there were about five girls in there, four of them rather larger than the average Asian woman in terms of girth, and the fifth one -- I don't know. There was just something hard looking about her. Like she might cut you if you got out of line. Two of these other girls were big big, one was just kind of chubby and plain, and the last of the batch, Aya, had a rather cute face and a stylish cropped-bangs Cleopatra haircut that I kind of liked. Her card said she was 22, she was down for some karaoke, and she liked NICE, FUN, OLDER men. I met the eligibility criteria, so I decided to proceed to Step Three, the negotiation.
To enter Step Three, you take the girl’s info card from it's plastic holder on the counter in front of her (and this is how they get scrambled when either a girl decides to change seats or the tencho puts the wrong card in the wrong place upon one's return to the pool after a failed negotiation). Then you write your name, blood type, age, circumference of your left testicle (I don't know... I only read about 300 kanji, man) and what you want to do on this date onto a paper form of your own and you take them both upstairs.
It's a bit intimidating -- at least for a guy like me -- to summon the pluck to actually go for Step Three. See, any bored, young girl with a smartphone is going to radiate a near-lethal case of Resting Bitch Face (RBF) as she thumbs that gorilla glass screen searching for, let's assume, a good kosher deli or an accurate Japanese translation of Stephen Hawking's final paper. Put five of them together all waiting for an ancient lecher like me to offer them coin for their virtue and the RBF amplitude gets so intense you get the distinct impression the one-way glass might shatter and rain down on the three old Japanese guys crouching down trying to see up a skirt or two.
But I shook off the sense of doom and thought, "She's just going to tell the tencho "no gaijin" anyway, so let's go for it." I marked on the card that I was 107 years old, had type HIV+ blood, and I wanted karaoke and enough o-sake to anesthetize a rhinoceros -- or at least that one girl over in the corner who probably hails from Gunma Prefecture. Since "hot sex" wasn't a choice on the card, I marked "other" though I considered writing it in if my katakana skills were better. I bounded up the stairs as fast as my walker would take me and handed my card, her card, and the two little business card things the guy had given me at Step One (one for each 2100 yen fee?) and he told me to go wait in curtained booth #5. Just try looking cool and suave in booth #5, waiting to proposition a girl significantly younger than half your age. I gave up. Aya arrived presently and was carrying a little timer in her hand. The shop gives you a time limit for Step Three, lest you waste valuable time chatting with the girl instead of getting on your merry way (which is Step Four and which costs more money, but I get ahead of myself). I forget the time limit, probably 10-15 minutes. It’s plenty, believe me, even if you’re a klutz first-timer like me. Aya sat next to me, and confirmed when I asked that she was OK with foreigners. I apologized for being foreign, for being old, and for wearing only a threadbare hospital nightgown that didn’t cover my ass. I also apologized for being a first-timer and begged her indulgence to sort of work with me through the system. She turned out to be cautiously friendly (once separated from the RBF collective, though science hasn’t ruled out quantum entanglement in RBF) and more or less said we were going to discuss what we were going to do, for how long, and how much it would cost (me). I said I’d like to go to karaoke and then to a love hotel.
“How long, total?” she asked.
“Ummm… two hours, I guess?” I answered. Hey, I hadn’t expected to make it through the RBF level to Step Three, so I was unprepared. It’s like pre-flop raising and having no plan for how the hand will play post-flop, amirite?
She nodded and stared at me first expectantly, then blankly, and finally the sub-particle entanglement reached from downstairs and started realigning her expression into that of an unhappy young Japanese girl with better things to do. That’s when it hit me it was my turn to raise, call or fold.
“So, uh, how much would that be?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, which confused me. “How much?”
“Oh, I have to say the first number?” I asked, knowing full well the first person to say a number usually loses in haggling.
She nodded.
“Um… 20,000?”
She nodded but then said, but with an hour of karaoke…? How about 30,000?”
“Maybe next time,” I said, knowing I had spent a chunk of my walking-around cash on sekukyaba and assuming she didn’t personally take credit cards. “This time, the figure is 20,000, so now you have to tell me what you’ll do for that.”
We agreed on one hour hotel time for that figure, and I agreed to condom usage, and we got up and marched toward the desk to consummate Step Four.
In Step Four, you pay the shop one last fee, I want to say it was 1200 yen this time, to go on your date. The guy cheerfully reminds you to keep your two cards (which you have to bring to the desk along with the little trifold clipboard they give you at Step One) because you can get in for free all the way up to 11:30 in case one date isn’t enough for you tonight. I thought, does this guy know me or what?
We took off like a bolt of greased pigeon poo down the street in the direction of the love hotels, and my date seemed to know the way. I asked if she was from Ikebukuro and she said no, she’s from Shinjuku but she doesn’t want to deai close to home. Within a minute or two, we were at Hotel Zebra, though we could have chosen Chocolat and about two or three others. Zebra had one room available, so we took it, and it was the kind where you pay at the automatic machine at your room’s actual door. I guess that saves on front desk staff and may seem more private, though you run the risk of being forever locked in your room and starving to death if you take something from the minibar and don’t have the cash to pump into the machine to unlock the door.
So, I guess this is Step Five, and that’s where she got naked and I thought wow, she’s actually a lot bigger than I thought she was. I liked her face throughout, which I thought was cute with that haircut and very nice lips, but in her underwear she just looked plus-sized and while out of it she looked better, she was very hippy and she had the kind of nipples I don’t favor. That’s all personal preference, though. I’m sure there was a lot about me she didn’t like, such as being old, foreign, overweight (again, dammit, I put back on the 35 pounds I had lost by last August) and arguably stupid based on the dumb shit I was saying. So, as for the service? Not bad, really. A little impersonal, in that there was no kissing and while she cuddled a bit, she clearly wasn’t into it. She told me she didn’t like her neck kissed (ticklish) so there went a favorite of mine, but she seemed to like it when I paid attention to her boobs, which looked smaller when out of her bra and she did get a bit wet during FIV play. She felt good to hold (bigger girls often do) and she gave me a pretty damn nice BBBJ for a little bit to get 子Ned jumpstarted before putting the cap on him. It was actually really nice, I’d say the best part and I would have liked just doing that. But she seemed to expect FS, so I climbed on and did my best, though we were in missionary and I sometimes struggle to get comfortable in that position, always feeling like I can’t get the right angle without making my own back and knees uncomfortable and/or squishing the girl under me. And speaking of squishing, she offered CG but I chose not to accept this time. I finally got a rhythm going and while she wasn’t super into it she wasn’t a dead fish either, though no kissing allowed (or at least not reciprocated and it clearly made her uncomfortable) and I must say I did like looking at her face during the act. A thought threatened my erection, something along the lines of “Dude, what the fuck are we doing banging a 22yo chubby girl in goddamn Ikebukuro on a Tuesday afternoon… is this what we’ve become?” The answer came, “Become? Were we ever not like this?” about the time I pulled out, yanked off the Jimmy Hat and whitewashed her navel.
Once that was done, she got doubly friendly, though she was never particularly unfriendly before. We showered (separately, though not on purpose — she was faster than me in getting there) and bathed separately (again a matter of timing and it was a 1-minute bath) and then we were out the door. She asked if I wanted to go eat ramen with her, and though my iWatch was giving me the stinkeye (or maybe the iStink) because it was past time I needed to hop a long and crowded train ride home, I thought aw what the hell, it’s sweet of her to ask.
And then we got to the shop and my head turned into one of those suckers like in an old cartoon...
She wanted me to pay for her dinner.
Which I did. It was 1300 yen, big whoop. We chatted about food and I don’t remember what else. It’s hard to come up with good idle chatter topics between an American male of my age and a Japanese girl of her age, but “bless my heart” I do try, gentlemen; I do try. The ramen was particularly good, actually, and by the end of it she asked if I wanted her LINE contact info. I was so thrilled about actually having LINE (I just got it like two days ago — I’m so young and with it now!) that I said sure and I scanned her QR code and she sent me a bunny sticker, for Easter I guess. Hopefully not for fertility.
So now with her Line info, I suppose if I ever want to see her again — which will be difficult since I’m ramping up to leave Japan for my annual six-month sojourn and this time I may not be coming back to stay — I can bypass Kirari and save some Noguchis to spend on ramen. Or karaoke.
Or therapy.
Final Thoughts:
Recommended, May Repeat.
Closing Comments:
Thinking of the shop, here and not the girl, there are a lot of Kirari locations, and I'm guessing Shinjuku or Shibuya may have more attractive girls and maybe more of them. But more attractive (physically) doesn't mean they are fun to be with. All in all, 20,000 yen (plus plus plus, of course) for FS in a LH and a Line invitation to perhaps do it without the shop costs and get more friendly next time isn't a bad deal. Ikebukuro is approximately, let me check the map... 9,000,000 miles from my house, so it's not an easy trek. Besides, I'm leaving Japan again soon, and possibly forever this time (back just long enough to pack and move in the winter). So, WILL I repeat? Seems unlikely, given the time/distance problem. WOULD I repeat? Eh, sure. I think I probably would. I think I'd drop into a Kirari sometime when I was bored, and I think I'd hit up Aya on Line to see if she wants to do karaoke this time and maybe get more of that BBBJ, which was pretty good and she looked good doing it.
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