No Blossom

IV

I got off work late that night, it must have been past 7 p.m. when I reached the subway and got on the metro. On a positive note - if there was such a thing - people who often did overtime like me didn't have to deal with the rush hour and even the metro was less crowded at that time.

Since I lived so far from the center, my trip home took roughly an hour, less in the mornings because I took a faster metro. Around Shinjuku the metro surfaced and brought the city into view. I watched the colors and lights, even though I was used to them, but there was nothing else out there that came even close to entertaining me.

Then I thought of Okajima-san.

Would I see her again? And if yes, on what note? I hadn't even had the chance to ask for her number or anything like that. The way she left so abruptly was a little rude, but maybe she had a good reason for it. Or maybe she just really wanted me out of her sight.

It made me feel a little insecure to think of the possibility that she had left in such a hurry because she disliked me, or because I had done something wrong. But that wouldn't be unreasonable because what appeal would I have on her to begin with? She was pretty, she knew what she was doing, I didn't. It would have been wrong of me to think that she owed me an explanation.

The doors opened, but only when I heard the name of the station did I come back to my senses and get off. It was cold. The walk home seemed endless because of the headwind that came in directly from the coast, and the nightly silence that was a little too sinister for me.

"You should be careful walking around so late at night".

Why would she say something like that to me? Did she think I was an easy victim? Or was she genuinely concerned for me? I didn't want to believe the latter or I might have ended up disappointed. She probably just tried to make idle chatter, just like anyone would.

But I still got goosebumps when walking home late.

When I got off the elevator and turned left where the door to my apartment was, I was startled to see a dark figure lurking by the hallway window. At first I was sure I had been mistaken and imagined it, but the closer I got, the clearer the person's frame became. Long, flowy hair that glistened a bit under the light of street lamps, and dark, calm eyes.

"Okajima-san? What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised at how natural my voice sounded compared to how my heart was about to jump off my chest.

She made the same small motion with her hand as the night before and explained: "My shirt, you have it".

Of course, her shirt. She must have forgotten to take it after leaving it to dry. I apologized for the inconvenience again and let her inside, where her shirt was still hanging by the hanger next to the bathroom. She picked it up, folded it and placed it in her bag. But when she got ready to leave, I stopped her.

Everything that had happened the night before came flashing into my mind, and I couldn't let her leave like that again. I wanted an answer, an explanation, anything. "Please tell me, Okajima-san. Why did you do that?" I feared that my question would make her uncomfortable if she regretted what happened or if she just didn't want to see me, but she did not seem bothered.

Okajima-san looked at me for a brief moment, then tilted her head and asked me if I had not felt good. "You came, didn't you?" She asked that without even blinking her eyes, and her lack of shame once again made me all the more flustered. How could she talk about that so openly? Of course I had felt good...But that didn't explain why she had done it.

I wasn't going to drop the matter, I would ask her as many times as I needed to get a real answer out of her. But just as I was about to open my mouth, she stopped me with a finger over my lips. It was warm, just like when she touched me last time. I...

Before I even understood what she was doing, she had already slipped my coat off and was unbuttoning my shirt. "You do white-collar work? What company do you work for?" She tried to distract me. "N-No- I work for the government", I corrected her. She looked up at me, maybe she had not been expecting me to say that.

But in the next second the buttons that she had previously been opening were now ripped open as she tore my shirt off. I gasped. But when I tried to speak again, she moved her whole hand to cover my mouth. But she wasn't trying to muffle my voice, it was just to signal me to stop talking.

"Okajima-san!" I called out when she turned me around so that my face was pressed against the wall and I couldn't move. Then I felt it again, her warm hand slid along my stomach and into my trousers. Why was she doing it again? There was no way she wanted it after leaving without a word.

"A-Ahh..."

She was stroking me, slowly, slower than last time. There was no way I could stand when she was doing that, and she must have understood that because she shoved me down onto the floor. But she wasn't stroking me anymore, instead she stepped back for a moment and I heard the sound of her undressing. But I didn't dare to look. Or could I? Would she have gotten angry if I looked?

She was taking quite a while so I decided to turn my head to maybe get a look, but I hadn't even turned on the light so it was hard to make out her outline in the dark hall. Then, out of nowhere I felt her breasts against my back as she leaned down and trailed her hand to my throat, forcing me to arch my neck back so that she could see my face.

Okajima-san...

She didn't ask me anything, she didn't seem to want my input, but she didn't tell me to be quiet either. Every time she touched me, she pulled her hand back and waited before doing it again. It made me even more sensitive than I already was and soon all I could do was mouth her name over and over again.

Then I felt that same sensation of plastic wrap around my erection and her hand guiding it to her entrance.

This can't be real.