Lately, I've been feeling off, unable to concentrate. I think I'm getting enough sleep, so I tried some fatigue recovery recipes, but they didn't help. I've tried so many things, like half-body baths, that I feel even more tired. It's not the busy season, but I started feeling like I couldn't go on like this.
"Hannah, I heard you can't concentrate lately? How about ASMR? It's been trending recently. It might be a bit dubious, but why not give it a try? After I tried it once, my sleep quality improved, so I recommend it," a friend suggested, reminding me of an article I read in a magazine about its recent popularity.
"Hmm, maybe I'll give it a try," I thought.
If it works, great; if not, then it's just a dubious trend. I bought headphones, connected them to my computer, and searched for videos. As I was browsing, I stumbled upon a hypnosis video and decided to play it.
'Take a deep breath slowly. Relax, inhale, and exhale—'
Following the video's instructions, I took deep breaths, feeling increasingly sleepy and dizzy. When a clap sounded, I suddenly snapped awake. My head felt clear. That night, I fell asleep easily, and when I woke up to my alarm, the fatigue and lethargy I'd felt were gone.
One day,
"A party? Is it today?"
"Are you joining? You can't if you don't finish work, though."
"Yeah, I'll join. I think I can finish my work."
Since listening to that ASMR, my concentration has improved beyond what it was before. I haven't listened to it since, but maybe it really worked.
At the party I attended after a long time, I was able to chat with colleagues, and the restaurant recommended by the organizer had delicious food, making it enjoyable even for someone like me who doesn't drink much. As it got late,
"Alright, that's it for now. The second party is fine, but don't overdo it! Good job, everyone!"
When Mr. Smith clapped his hands, a shiver of pleasure ran down my spine. My cheeks flushed. Why did just the sound of clapping do this to me?
"Hey, Hannah? Are you okay? You're swaying."
"I think I might be a bit overheated. I'll step outside for some air."
I quickly left the restaurant and took a deep breath of the cool outside air. My legs felt weak, and I leaned against the wall. I still felt the lingering pleasure in my body.
"What's wrong, Wada? Are you feeling unwell? Can you make it home?"
"Mr. Smith..."
"Your face is red. Are you okay? My place is nearby, so you can stop by. If you're not feeling well, you can stay over."
"I'm fine!"
As I moved away from the wall, I stumbled. It was just my heel catching in a tile gap, but Mr. Smith seemed to think I was unwell, and he half-forcedly took my hand. Unable to stop, I ended up at his place.
"Excuse me," I said.
"No need to be so formal. Just sit on the sofa," he replied.
He led me to the living room and had me sit on the sofa. Mr. Smith's home was minimalistic, with only essential furniture and appliances, and a few books. It was a tidy room.
"Can you drink mineral water?"
"Thank you. I'm fine, really. I just got a bit overheated. I stumbled because my heel got caught in a tile gap..."
It sounded silly when I said it out loud. I never thought I'd stumble like that. As I sipped the mineral water, I felt the cold water cooling my body.
"If you're sure, but I'm worried, so stay over tonight," he insisted.
Mr. Smith is kind. Even if it's just to take care of a subordinate, it could be misunderstood. I felt his gaze and looked up, meeting his eyes. He looked troubled. Was I causing him trouble?
"I'm really sorry if you thought I was unwell. If I'm a bother, I'll leave."
"I wouldn't tell you to stay if you were a bother. It's just that you look so... alluring. Forget I said that, it's inappropriate."
"...My body feels hot. Am I overheated?"
Mr. Smith's large hand touched my cheek, and his lips covered mine.
Droplets ran down the cream-colored tiles as the shower wet our bodies.
After the kiss, my memory became hazy, and before I knew it, we were both naked in the shower. I couldn't even remember when we undressed.
I wrapped my arms around Mr. Smith's neck and kissed him. It felt so good that my mind went blank. I accepted his tongue, which teased all the right spots, and intertwined my tongue with his. As I was absorbed in the kiss, his hand touched my chest.
"Mmm!"
A muffled voice escaped. His hand molded my chest, and even though he was only kissing and touching my chest, honey dripped down my legs.
"You're already dripping, and I've only touched your chest. This isn't just shower water, is it?"
He wiped the honey from my thighs.
Just a slight touch on my slit made his fingers draw strings of honey. Without even looking, I knew I was drenched inside. Just being touched felt so good, and the thought of more made my body heat up.
"Mr. Smith, something's wrong with me. My body is so hot, I can't stand it!"
"I'm hot too..."
His hoarse voice vibrated in my eardrums. His fingers scratched my already swollen clit.
"Ahh!"
He scooped up the honey and used its slipperiness to rub the underside of my clit, making my hips tremble. The indescribable pleasure made it impossible to suppress my moans. As he rubbed with his thumb and ring finger, more honey overflowed.
Mr. Smith sat me on the edge of the bathtub and spread my legs.
"Ah, it's embarrassing..."
"Liar, you're happy to be seen dripping honey," he laughed knowingly, and I fell silent. As he said, the thought of being watched made honey drip down in a unique sensation. His fingers rubbed my sensitive clit, and I arched my back.
"Ahh! No, not like that, ahh!"
His lips nibbled and his tongue flicked, causing honey to flow endlessly. Each time he sucked hard, my body jerked, and I moaned. Even the sound of my own voice echoing in the bathroom turned me on, making more honey spill.
"I'm going to come! Ahh, I'm coming, I'm coming! Ahh!"
The accumulated pleasure exploded all at once. Honey gushed out, and my consciousness blurred as I clung to the wall.
"I'm going in, Hannah," he said, grabbing my hips and whispering my name in my ear. My hands on the wall trembled. His thing, which had been rubbing my entrance, pushed in.
"Ahh!"
I easily swallowed his throbbing thing, and my insides tightened, clinging sweetly.
"It's gripping so tightly. You're so good at asking for it," he said.
"Inside, it's so hot, I'm melting... I want more!"
"You're really good at asking," he replied.
Suddenly, he started moving intensely, making my knees shake.
"Ahh!"
He hit a certain spot, making me cry out in a high-pitched voice. Seeing this, he kept hitting that spot. The sound of our bodies slapping together echoed, sending the same pleasure down my spine as before.
"Ahh!"
"You're tightening again," he noted.
With each slap, my insides squeezed tightly. The climax that should have passed came again.
"Ah, I'm coming again! I'm coming! Ahh!"
With a more intense climax than before, my insides squeezed tightly.
"I'm coming!"
Feeling his throbbing thing, my consciousness blurred.
He supported my collapsing body. I blinked a few times, my thoughts still hazy.
"Did I push you too hard? You suddenly went limp, so I was a bit worried," he said.
"Ah, no, I might have just overheated..."
"Then bear with it a bit longer. I'll rinse you off lightly," he said.
He rinsed my body with lukewarm water, dried me with a large towel, and carried me to the bedroom.
"Wow, there's a video like that? The sound of clapping is so specific," he remarked.
"I thought it was dubious, but it really worked..."
Thinking back on my earlier behavior, I felt so embarrassed I wanted to hide. I'd never been so wild, and when I thought about what made me so sensitive, there was only one thing that came to mind.
"Maybe it's a placebo effect? Or maybe it overwrites something else..."
"Placebo effect..."
I repeated his words.
Even though it was past midnight, I wasn't sleepy. The more I thought about it, the clearer my mind became.
I lay in a semi-double bed, resting my head on his strong arm. An arm pillow felt luxurious. When our eyes met, he kissed my eyelids.
"What kind of things would be good to overwrite, for example?" I asked.
"Like calling your name in your ear every time you come? It seemed to work well when I called your name," he suggested.
"Oh, come on!" I lightly hit his chest, and he laughed. It had worked more than well, but I'd keep that a secret. He might do it repeatedly for fun. I thought he was a personable boss, but he laughed more than I expected, like a child.
"You have a nice voice..." I said.
Please, let this be enough to fool him for now. It's not a lie.
"...I've been thinking, but at times like this, drop the formalities and calling me 'Mr. Smith.' If I remember this at work, I won't be able to concentrate," he said.
"...Um, like, Harold?" I asked.
He looked surprised. Wait, isn't his full name Harold Smith? Did I get it wrong?
"That's fine. I'll call you that suddenly," he said.
"Harold," I said.
"Hannah, say it again," he requested.
His large hand traced my body, making me shiver again. As I opened my mouth to stop him, he kissed me.
"Ah, wait..."
"Is it bad?"
He asked sweetly, and there was no way I could say no. Surprisingly, he's cute.
With that thought, I immersed myself in the resumed kiss. The heat still smoldered deep inside me, and dawn was still far away. The hot night seemed far from over.
Fin.
