Prologue
A large raindrop suddenly struck the window. From the backseat of a car stopped at the traffic signal at Shiba Park 3-chome, facing Onarimon, I could see the Tokyo Prince Hotel. The heavy rain that began unexpectedly flowed down the windowpane in a single droplet, containing small bubbles and the headlights of oncoming cars. It was like champagne spilling from a glass, signaling the start of the night.
I stepped out of the car at the entrance. The heel of my black suede pumps made a single sound. The doorman barely glanced at me. I brushed my hair back over my shoulders, straightened my black pinstripe jacket, stood tall, and walked slowly towards the entrance. The automatic door of the entrance opened, and I was greeted by the heady scent of flowers mixed with a faint spice and musk. This scent instantly brought back memories. A small shiver ran down my spine, encased in a white blouse, leaving a pleasant tingle behind. I walked straight through the lobby and took the elevator to the designated room on the upper floor. Everything was as usual.
He greeted me as soon as I rang the doorbell. He had been waiting for me at the door. The moment he closed the door, he hugged me tightly. His face approached my neck, taking a deep breath as if to confirm my scent. His hands moved from my shoulders to my waist, pressing firmly against my body, tracing my lines. The contact reminded me of our time together, and I let out a small sigh. He too seemed to recall our moments, and I felt his breathing grow heavier as it brushed my ear. Before I had even arrived, he had been imagining my body and scent. The thought pleased me, and I nestled my face into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. Surrounded by his scent, I closed my eyes.
His fingertips moved from my waist to my lower abdomen, then repeatedly traced the line of my buttocks through my pinstripe pencil skirt. One hand slid along the crease of my buttocks, squeezing the flesh firmly, while his lips clung to my neck.
As he ran his tongue along my neck, he ordered me to unbutton my blouse. Watching me from the corner of his eye, he slipped his hand inside my skirt’s slit, sliding the waistband of my stockings down, and then moved his hand further inside. After unbuttoning four buttons, he adjusted the glossy black lace lingerie beneath my black pinstripe jacket and white blouse, exposing my nipple to his view.
He gazed intently at my face and exposed nipple before taking it into his mouth, teasing the tip with his tongue. I felt it harden as he repeatedly licked and rolled it with his tongue. Noticing the change, he looked up at me from my chest to see my reaction. Embarrassed, I looked away, and he slipped his fingers under my underwear, touching my sex. I was so wet that I could feel the dampness seeping through my underwear. I had been aroused since watching the raindrops in the taxi, imagining this moment. He smiled as he felt the slickness with his fingers.
He showed me his wet fingers, taunting me with vulgar words, wanting me to admit it. Repeatedly forced to say those words, I began to feel increasingly humiliated. Sensing this, he said it was okay to release my suppressed desires. In front of him, I could turn my base fantasies into reality. This thought made me even wetter, feeling like an even more disgraceful being that I wanted to expose.
He continued to whisper obscene words to arouse me, the sensations from his fingers on my sensitive parts slowly turning into pleasure.
As the pleasure increased, I wanted to see his satisfied face, so I reached for his belt. The buckle clinked as I unfastened it. I hurriedly unbuttoned his pants, feeling my breath quicken, and gripped the zipper with force. Impatiently, I pulled down his bottoms and underwear together, finally seeing him, red and pulsing.
I felt tenderness towards his hardness, throbbing and struggling. Looking into his eyes, I slowly ran my tongue along it. I couldn’t resist and took him fully into my mouth, confirming him. The scent of his masculinity filled my mouth. His eyes seemed to glisten. Watching his satisfied, gentle gaze, my mind melted, and I enjoyed savoring him with my lips and tongue in thoughtless bliss.
Suddenly, he made me stand and pushed me onto the bed. He roughly pulled off my skirt and stockings. He hooked his fingers into my underwear. I lifted my hips slightly to help him remove them. He tossed our underwear to the side of the bed, ran his hands from my inner thighs to the backs of my knees, and spread my legs. I loved this moment of anticipation before he entered me. He looked at me, then sat between my legs, slowly aligning his body and himself with me.
The elevator reached the designated upper floor and opened. It was all a story within his lifelog, a memory he had conveniently modified to be beautiful. It wasn’t part of my accumulation data or something called by my central processor. It wasn’t even my emotions sent to the subjective view from the sensing device signals. It was entirely separate.
Today, I had something to ask him. I wasn’t sure if today was the best day to ask, or if it should have been yesterday or tomorrow. But one thing was clear: it didn’t matter which version of him I asked. The fluctuation of that emotion reached the subjective view stack, indicating a slightly depressed and anxious mood. I quickly grasped the handle of the new item I had just bought before work, tucked in my handbag. Doing this allowed me to delete the anxiety-indicating data from the stack, bringing me some relief. Taking a deep breath, I put on a smile and rang his room’s doorbell.
