I'm a web designer and can work from any place on Earth where a telephone socket to plug a laptop can be found. We've got very friendly environment in our company, so the next morning I easily negotiated two weeks off and went to Chelsea where The Mayfair headquarters is.

A Barbie doll offered me cup of awful instant coffee and ashtray and informed me that my decision to go to Japan without a partner didn't mean they would double my pocket money. After a short telephone conversation she announced that I was about to get 7.5 grand instead of 10. What a shame, I thought, only 500 pounds a day on top of the 'all inclusive' package!

'Congratulations, mister Nick,' she stood up and came over from her desk to give me tickets, cheque, and heavy pack of leaflets. 'I hope you'll enjoy your trip.'

I stood up too to discover that she being in flats towered over me by almost a head. Of course, at 5 foot 6 I'm not a giant but not a dwarf either, so I decided to remember the office address...

In Narita international airport of Tokyo, I was met by a taxi driver and in an hour found myself in a luxury 3-room apartment on 31 floor of a lavish hotel. Once again, I thought it would be nice to become a millionaire, then took a bath, played a silly tune on a piano (yes, there was a grand piano in the room!) and went downstairs to have a walk and make myself acquainted with the city I've never been to before. Mayfair's models and whoever else were to arrive the next day, so l had plenty of time to spare.

Following the receptionist's advice, I moved to Rappongi area which allegedly was Tokyo's own Soho, but much larger. It really was: neon lights everywhere, street vendors, Pachinko (amusement centres with gambling machines) - and loads of hookers of all races and nations. Smashing, baby!

In a bar called Mist of Albion, I realized that 7.5 grand might not be that huge sum here: gin and tonic immediately lighted my wallet by near 7 pounds. But it was too early for being bothered, so I took a stool at the bar and enjoyed myself. It wasn't last long though: a Japanese girl with orange hair asked me whether I spoke English and where I was from.

'Oh, Rondon!' she became excited the very moment she heard that. 'Maybe you can herp me study Engrish?'

I said that English wasn't my first language, but she was decisive: 'you speak better than I! My name is Mikha!'

She wasn't ugly at all. Actually, she was beautiful despite a hairstyle. But recalling prices at the bar, I invited her to my hotel where I said I had some literature. That was true: I always try to improve my English whenever I have time to. She made a call from her mobile and after short consultation with someone in Japanese said, 'I'm ready!'

When we stood up, I understood that my life came into white stripe. I looked directly at her neck. Giving that she had sneakers on, Mikha must have been one of the tallest women in the country! Well, another good reason to teach her tonight...

It was fun walking beside her. Apparently, it was not only me who was surprised seeing a Japanese girl taller than a European guy. People stared at us, pointed their fingers at the odd couple, and talked to each other excitedly.

I myself didn't have time to get used to my apartments yet, but Mikha's reaction was absolutely unpredictable. She just kept running all over the lounge crying that she could fit five her whole flats in the room alone and I must have been rich as 'a king of Engrand.'

Suddenly, she stopped. 'You saw how they rook on me in street?' she asked. 'I want study Engrish and go to America. Hard be very torr here.'

'You're not VERY tall,' assured I her.

'I am!' she protested and came closer to me. 'Rook, I torrer than you!'

I started to enjoy the dialogue. She glanced down at me and noticed that. 'You rike me torr?'

'I do.'

'Good. Nobody in my college don't rike me. I very torr for them. Torrest boy in my crass go here,' she pointed at her shoulder. 'But if you rike I wirr wear pratform. I have pratform very torr - this!' and she rose up on her tiptoes and put her chin on top of my head. 'Good?'

I felt lost of words. Standing in front of an Oriental girl a head taller than you is an unforgettable experience!

That night was also unforgettable. Obviously, we studied sexual rules from different sources. It was strange... The only thing I remember for sure was she left at about 3 o'clock in the morning. I didn't know where. Neither did I care much.

Next afternoon, after short walk and one of the best lunches I have ever had, I made myself comfortable in the hotel's lobby. Models didn't make me feel nervous: as I finished my first afternoon gin-tonic, I heard noise from outside.

Of course, that was they - sliding doors opened and a group of 25 or 30 Japanese of both sexes burst in. Girls towered in the middle of the crowd. They were stunning, and even the shortest of them was a full head taller than were people around them.

Hotel employers couldn't miss a thing. Guards, porters, lift boys - all rushed to see who's coming. Shopkeepers left their kiosks unattended and even a manager went out of his glass cubicle - unforgiving fault for a five-star hotel...

Japanese don't shy to express their feelings, and all these people tried to stand as close to the towers of beauty as they possibly could openly comparing heights with them.

Within 10 minutes though lobby was cleaned of unwanted visitors, staff returned to their duties, and only manager - with short bold whatever-his-name director general - was circled now by the girls. He was enjoying every moment of checking in young beautiful women head and shoulders taller than himself - it was drawn on his face. I couldn't blame him...

Their arrival was fun. The only black spot - not a tiny one - was absence of Ms Sorenssen. She must have been still sick. I felt sick too. In fact, nobody promised me she would come but it didn't help much. I took another can with gin-tonic from a fridge and sat back.

My sad thoughts were interrupted by whatever-his-name's voice. 'Mr. Nick, happy to see you're well! Are you enjoying your holiday? Hope so, hope so.' Shaking my hand, he turned to models, 'Hello there, come and meet Mr. Nick! He's our dear guest here, please be kind with him.'

Three male models, tall guys with tons of styling gel on their heads waived hands towards us and with expression of tiredness moved to lifts. Girls were more communicative - or more polite? - and came to us.

For a moment, I forgot my sadness. I've seen them a week ago, but then they were on podium, and now - next to me. Tall, very tall - all five of them.

'Right girls, I'm happy to introduce you to Mr. Nick,' and he named everyone. The only name I instantly remember though was Lisa. Baby faced Russian with light red hair and laughing green eyes was the tallest in the group: the director's head was clearly below her armpits.

'I hope, we will do our best to make your trip unforgettable, Mr Nick,' whatever-his-name looked up. 'Will we, girls?'

'No doubt!' Lisa smiled down at me exposing perfect pearls of teeth. 'I promise!'

Not bad, not bad at all, I thought half an hour later sitting in a hotel bar and consuming my next drink. But not as good as it could get... Lost in my thoughts, I finally decided to call Mikha. Where have she disappeared, after all?

She was quick - she really needed her free 'Engrish' lessons. The moment she came in, all heads in the bar turned on her. She made it: Mikha had on the highest platform shoes I have ever seen in my life - I would say about 10 or 11 inches. She could hardly walk, but looked proud.

I was still sitting when she came to me.

'See! You want I be torr. Stand up!'

I obeyed - just to find myself looking straight at her small breasts. I took a glance directly upwards and saw her happy face. For Mikha it was like a Christmas party, for me however, like a tough test. Unable to restrain my excitement in that position, I rushed to buy us drinks.

'She's way too tall for ya, don't ya think?' I turned around. Big American guy smiled at me. 'Hi, I'm Todd. I've been living here for three years and never saw a local girl this tall. So, when you're getting tired of her ask bartender, he knows where to find ma. I'm just melting when I see a tall chick.'

'Bad luck mate, I'm into tall girls too...' I didn't finish a phrase when heard a female voice - again, from behind. 'In that case how about to buy me martini with orange?'

Once more, I turned around. At the first instant, I felt something close to fear - blur white space in front of my eyes. Blindness? A second later though I realized, it was a white top on Lisa's body. And what a body it was! Toned, unbearably feminine - I had an immediate turn-on observing that small white top which covered very well formed breasts and exposed flat and quite muscular abdomen, black skirt short enough to show mile long tanned legs with sharp knees, white leggings ended up just under these sexy knees, and black shiny shoes on 2 inches heels. Finished the appearance her hair split on two ponytails with white fillets making Lisa look like an innocent schoolgirl - if only one can find a schoolgirl 6 ft 4 inches tall.

I automatically nodded to bartender.

'That's what I call a Universe injustice,' Todd made a long sip of his scotch.

Meanwhile glasses appeared on the bar.

'We're not alone here,' Lisa noticed that there were three of them. 'Who else?'

I found myself in quite a situation. On one hand, Mikha, the tallest Japanese girl I could ever imagine, was still waiting at the table. On the other, Lisa, one of the prettiest creatures I've ever laid my eyes on, was standing at my side smiling down at me from her more than imposing height. I just couldn't make a choice, so instead I decided to wait and see.

'A local girl I've met yesterday,' I mumbled.

'Oh, you don't waste your time here, do you?' Lisa gently stroked my shoulder. 'Come and meet her!'