On the wide bed, Kawashima Miki frowned, her smooth slender legs tightly closed, gently rubbing together.
"Don’t touch my butt—"
Her hands moved weakly, as if resisting and struggling.
"...Fujiwara Reya, stop!"
Kawashima Miki struggled violently a few times, swinging her hands forcefully, knocking the alarm clock off the bedside table.
The sound of the alarm clock hitting the floor woke her from the nightmare.
It was almost evening.
The room with the curtains drawn was dimly lit.
The naked woman half-leaned on the bed.
The corner of her half-open mouth had a trace of transparent saliva, her cheeks flushed and bewildered, appearing as if she’d been thoroughly played with.
She stayed quietly for a while.
Her vision gradually focused, Kawashima Miki sat up with her legs bent, her expression still dazed.
Her whole body felt soft and weak, a faint coolness dwelled between her legs, reaching down to touch... it felt sticky and embarrassing.
Something’s not right!
That dream was very off!
Kawashima Miki took a deep breath, gently hugging her legs, resting her forehead on her knees.
What did the dream really represent?
At the end of the dream, she rebuked the other for being presumptuous, and the other seemed to laugh unscrupulously, saying something like "The little spider hasn’t been trained well," and then started to act on her.
The dignified Empress, actually being touched on the butt!
And...and, that voice was somewhat familiar, and the face glimpsed at last was actually that bastard Fujiwara Reya, what on earth was going on?
Thinking about it, her mouth became dry.
Kawashima Miki picked up the cup of water from the bedside table, taking a few slow sips.
The cup held in her hand, she bit the edge with her lips, her brows tightly knit.
That was an erotic dream just now... ugh, you’re going to die... Kawashima Miki!
Even if there’s desire, you shouldn’t use that kid as a fantasy object, what’s at all worth fantasizing about him!!!
A doubt suddenly arose in Kawashima Miki’s mind.
What if it really could be like in the dream... if Fujiwara Reya only forced her to do such shameful things for his own enjoyment, regardless of her crying and begging, wouldn’t she feel ashamed yet addicted to the thrill at the same time?
According to humans, dreams are manifestations of inner desires.
Could it be that this mature body of hers is secretly anticipating such things...
"Kawashima Miki, you shameless creature..."
She scolded herself with disdain, holding the cup, staring blankly at it. On the transparent edge of the glass, there was a crimson lip print left by her lipstick, full and inviting both inside and out...
The longer she stared at the tempting lip print, the more heated she felt all over, her breathing irregular.
Her chest felt tight.
Her lower abdomen itched too, as if many small spiders were crawling inside, making her particularly uncomfortable.
She couldn’t continue thinking about these things.
Going on , her body would become more and more peculiar!
Kawashima Miki tumbled out of bed, rushing across the living room in bare feet, hurrying to the bathroom to wash away the traces on her legs.
She carefully combed her hair in front of the mirror, pinned it up with a beautiful hairpin. Then she trimmed her eyebrows with scissors, applied a thin layer of cream on her face, then put on bright lipstick.
She pursed her lips in front of the mirror to ensure the lipstick was evenly applied over every millimeter of her skin.
Tonight Fujiwara Reya was coming over.
She needed to use every trick in the book to keep him here overnight.
Demolish his wretched shrine overnight.
To ensure the plan was foolproof, Kawashima Miki gave much thought to picking out clothes.
10D super-sheer black stockings, paired with a small set of string panties. She chose a high-waist slit skirt, where any big movement would reveal the entire side of her thigh up to the hip. Since she wore string panties, there wouldn’t be large swaths of fabric covering there, allowing the skin to be most directly displayed.
Men are just such despicable creatures.
They love this kind of barely-there, teasingly ambiguous style.
With the bottom half dressed, she picked a white silk shirt, carefully putting it on, smoothing out wrinkles.
The shirt’s material was thin and soft, clinging tightly to her skin like an onion’s membrane, especially highlighting her figure.
After getting fully dressed, Kawashima Miki faced the mirror, swaying her waist a bit, making sure the bra fit her body. While she swayed, she wondered if slightly larger breasts would become a burden?
Standing in front of the mirror, she checked her face in detail, ensuring there were no issues.
Kawashima Miki then applied another thin layer of cream on her face, spraying a bit of rose-scented perfume on her neck and wrists.
Having played a human in Tokyo for many years, she became increasingly immersed in it. At least in spending long hours daily beautifying herself, she could earnestly harvest a sense of happiness.
Though everything was finished, she didn’t leave the mirror.
Holding her cheeks with her hands, feeling the lively, bouncy skin, Kawashima Miki continued to indulge in her own beauty.
I truly am a beautiful woman... so far, standing before the mirror, she had probably sighed this thousands of times, at least three times a day.
But it doesn’t matter.
No matter how narcissistic, it’s her own freedom anyway.
Confirming tonight’s outfit was flawless, Kawashima Miki spun slightly before the mirror, starting to practice her smile.
Be it sweet, melancholy, charming, or cold.
She mastered multiple ways of smiling.
No matter which type Fujiwara Reya liked, she could transform into that type.
Kawashima Miki was a complex and dangerous woman.
Even she agreed with this evaluation.
Like some form of insect mimicry, she could capture a man’s heart by altering her own aura.
For men who liked the thrill of conquest, she exuded a cold aura, with words laden with mockery and aggression, a never-tolerant light flickering in the depths of her pupils throughout. For those who liked gentleness, she made herself appear cultured in speech, elegant in manner, always wearing a faint smile. If it was a man with chauvinism, she showed a soft, timid appearance, naturally evoking the other’s protective instincts, much like how insects release sexually stimulating pheromones to attract mates.
Tonight must be victorious!
As the sky darkened, Sky Tree Tower lit up in brilliant colors, the enchanting glow seemingly igniting romantic bubbles.
Kawashima Miki moved into the kitchen, making ham and eggs with eggs, ham, and butter, sipping from a box of orange juice directly. Once six o’clock hit, she slipped into red-soled black high heels, leaving her private quarters to inspect her domain.