The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky. Thick, orange light filtered through the living room windows. It cast long, sharp shadows across the wooden floorboards. The entire house was completely silent.
Liora was currently sleeping on her bed. The hangover and the deep massage finally knocked her out completely.
Zenjiro walked out of the short hallway. He rubbed his tired eyes. He stepped into the kitchen and looked at the gas stove. The metal burners were completely cold. There were no pots or pans on the counter. Clara had not prepared any dinner yet.
He decided to check on his stepmother. He needed to know if she was fine.
He walked down the hall and stopped in front of the master bedroom. He placed his hand on the cold metal doorknob. He turned it slowly. The door was unlocked. It clicked open with a soft metallic snap. He pushed the heavy wood inward and stepped inside.
The air inside the room was incredibly thick. It smelled heavily of stale alcohol and intense body heat. The window was shut tight. The small electric fan in the corner was turned completely off.
Zenjiro looked at the large mattress. He saw Clara lying flat on her back. She was still wearing the exact same clothes she had on when he found her sleeping drunk in the kitchen last night. She wore a simple white t-shirt and dark, loose shorts.
He stared at her motionless body.
He saw it.
The dark room played a trick on his tired eyes. He fully expected to see the messy, exposed collar of her shirt from her restless sleeping. He expected to see a lot of pale skin.
He saw water instead. Her entire body was drenched.
He stepped closer to the edge of the bed. The orange afternoon light hit the mattress perfectly.
He saw it for real this time.
It was a massive amount of sweat. The intense heat of the closed room and the heavy alcohol leaving her system caused a severe fever sweat. Her white shirt was completely soaked. The thin cotton became entirely transparent. The wet fabric clung tightly to her skin.
He saw the dark, heavy shape of her chest pressing directly against the wet, see-through cloth.
Her forehead was completely covered in thick beads of sweat. Her blonde hair stuck messily to her wet cheeks.
Zenjiro froze.
He stood perfectly still by the foot of the bed. He instinctively reached his hand toward the tall wooden cabinet to grab a fresh towel.
He stopped his own hand mid-air. What was he about to do? He could not just wipe her body while she slept. She was a grown woman. He was a young man. The situation was highly dangerous. He dropped his arm to his side. He decided to wake her up instead.
He stepped up to the side of the mattress. He reached down and firmly grabbed her left shoulder.
"Mother," Zenjiro said loudly. He shook her shoulder. "Mother. Wake up."
A few moments passed. Clara groaned softly. Her eyelids fluttered. She slowly opened her heavy, bloodshot eyes. She blinked up at the ceiling. She looked entirely confused.
Zenjiro grabbed a clean white towel from the top of the nearby dresser. He handed the folded cloth directly to her.
"You are soaking in sweat, Mother," Zenjiro said. He kept his voice perfectly steady. "You will get sick if you don't wipe it."
Clara looked down at her own chest. She saw the completely transparent shirt clinging to her heavy curves. She blinked twice. She pushed her hands against the wet mattress and forced herself to sit up straight.
She took the white towel from his hand. She completely ignored his presence. She acted on pure, hungover instinct. She grabbed the bottom hem of her wet shirt with both hands. She pulled the soaked fabric directly over her head and threw it onto the floor.
Zenjiro widened his eyes in pure shock. He violently jerked his head to the side. He stared intensely at the blank bedroom wall. His heart beat so fast.
Clara stopped moving. She noticed Zenjiro looking sharply to the other side of the room. A sudden realization hit her tired brain. She was not wearing a bra underneath the shirt. She had slept entirely bare underneath the thin cotton.
She turned her body completely around on the mattress. She faced the headboard. She sat with her bare back exposed to him.
She brought the white towel to her chest. She started wiping the heavy sweat from the front of her body.
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The heavy silence amplified every single tiny sound. Zenjiro stood facing the wall. He heard the weak noise of rough friction of the dry cotton dragging against her wet skin. He heard the soft, heavy shift of her body weight on the squeaking mattress springs. The intense, suffocating heat of the room felt ten times heavier.
"Zenjiro-kun," Clara called out softly. "Come here."
Zenjiro slowly turned his head. His heart beat even faster. He looked at her.
Her upper body was still completely naked. She kept her back turned entirely toward him. She raised her left hand. She gathered her messy, sweat-soaked blonde hair. She swept the heavy locks over her left shoulder. She exposed the bare back of her neck and her entire spine.
Her back was completely covered in thick sweat. The moisture trailed slowly down her spine.
"Wipe my back for me," Clara requested softly. "I can't reach it."
She reached her right arm backward. She held the white towel out to him.
Zenjiro stepped forward. He reached out with his right hand. He took the towel from her fingers.
The cotton was damp. A massive, violent jolt hit Zenjiro's chest. He held the exact same towel. He realized the absolute, terrifying truth of the physical object in his hand.
Clara just used this specific piece of cloth to wipe the front of her body. That meant the damp cotton fibers currently touching his right palm had just aggressively wiped her bare breasts a few seconds ago.
His mind descended into absolute chaos. His breathing turned incredibly shallow.
He sat down heavily on the very edge of the squeaking mattress. He leaned forward. He pressed the damp towel gently against her upper back.
He wiped her skin. He dragged the towel slowly across her left shoulder blade. He moved it down her spine. He wiped her right shoulder. The physical proximity was overwhelming. He felt the intense, radiating heat coming directly off her bare skin.
He smelled the heavy, sweet scent of her sweat mixed with the stale alcohol. He realized he was locked inside a small, hot room with a woman whose upper body was completely naked. His dark, malicious cravings flared up aggressively in his stomach. He forced his hand to keep moving. He finished wiping the sweat from her lower back.
"Get me a shirt from the drawer, Zenjiro-kun," Clara instructed. She did not turn around.
Zenjiro stood up incredibly fast. He practically ran to the tall wooden cabinet. He grabbed the brass handle of the second drawer and yanked it open.
A pile of delicate lace and silk filled his entire vision. It was a drawer completely stuffed with female underwear. He saw her dark bras. He saw her tiny, thin panties.
Panic exploded in his chest again. He violently shoved the drawer shut. The wood slammed loudly into the frame. He grabbed the handle of the third drawer. He pulled it open. He found a stack of neatly folded, oversized t-shirts. He grabbed a clean purple shirt.
He walked back to the bed. He handed the shirt to Clara. She took it and quickly pulled it over her head. She pushed her arms through the sleeves.
She finally turned around to face him.
"Your shorts, Mother," Zenjiro pointed downward. "It is also wet."
Clara looked down at her lap. She touched the dark fabric of her shorts. The heavy sweat had soaked entirely through the waistband.
"You're right," Clara sighed.
She pushed herself off the mattress. She stood up. She walked over to her closet. She pulled out a fresh pair of black shorts. She opened her underwear drawer. She grabbed a clean panty. She pulled a fresh white towel from the top shelf.
She walked back toward Zenjiro. She stopped about half a meter away from him. She stood incredibly close.
"Zenjiro-kun," Clara said softly. "Turn around."
Zenjiro immediately turned his back to her. He faced the closed bedroom door.
"Do not look, okay?" Clara teased lightly.
"I would never turn around, Mother," Zenjiro replied instantly. His voice cracked slightly. He sounded incredibly nervous and deeply embarrassed.
The genuine panic in his voice sounded completely hilarious from the perspective of a mature woman.
Clara chuckled softly behind him. "I know you won't."
She stared directly at his tense, rigid back. She dropped the fresh clothes onto the bed.
She started changing right behind him.
Zenjiro faced the solid wood of the closed door. His vision was completely cut off. The blind perspective forced his ears to pick up every tiny shift in the quiet room. The dead silence magnified the sounds perfectly.
He heard the heavy metal zipper of her wet shorts drag downward. The soaked fabric dropped to the floorboards with a soft thud. Then came the sharp, distinct elastic snap of a damp panty peeling away from her hips. The rough friction of a dry cotton towel rubbing aggressively against bare skin echoed right behind his back.
Thump. Thump.