Even though it was midday on a weekday, all the love hotels in Tokyo were fully booked, and only an old, rundown love hotel at the edge of the red-light district had a vacancy. In one of its rooms, she straddled me and wriggled her hips. Over and over.
The narrow room gradually filled with the scent of male and female copulation and the disgusting sound of mucous membranes rubbing together. She shook her soft breasts, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her white neck. This already erotic situation was made even more intense by her profession.
Normally, she'd be surrounded by kids this time of day, practicing singing──
"I work at a kindergarten. I like kids."
When I casually asked her at the café where we were meeting, she smiled and said that.
I strangely found myself accepting that response because the image of a kindergarten teacher wearing an apron and singing in a circle with the kids came so naturally to mind. Days spent drawing pictures, singing songs, and laughing together with the children. An ideal and peaceful daily life.
However, silence is always pregnant with inner heat.
A year or so since she broke up with her boyfriend.
What she felt wasn't loneliness but something more urgent and primal.
She took the day off work and chose this day. On the sofa lay her lace underwear that she said she 'always wears,' crumpled.
The desire embedded there was too straightforward.
We sought each other repeatedly, and eventually both of us were out of breath, sinking into the sheets. After a while, I held her close, and she softly breathed in my arms.
2:30 PM.
Looking at the clock, I thought. ?? Ah, I see.
If things were normal, I'd be taking a nap right about now.
