Am I The Only Male Tenant Here?

"Eh…?"

I blinked, brain still rebooting from the overload of savory ramen and shrimp heaven.

"Relax…?" I echoed dumbly. "Wait, is it the kind of relaxing I'm thinking of…?"

Immediately, every frame from a lifetime of very cultured Japanese films in my past life came flooding in. You know the type—low lighting, sensual background music, someone whispers, "Let me help you relax…", and the next scene cuts to pure steam.

Damn it. My mind's been corrupted.

"Turn around, Sousuke," Tomoko-san said sweetly from behind me. "Let me give you a massage."

"…Oh."

So it's that kind of relaxation. Massage. Completely wholesome. Very normal.

Or… is it?

Because in those movies, "massage" is also a keyword with dangerous implications!

"Okay, I'm starting now."

Before I could even prepare my dignity, Tomoko-san had already slid closer on the sofa, so close that I could feel the gentle pressure of her thighs brushing the cushion near me.

Her chest, soft and warm, lightly pressed against my back as she leaned forward.

My breath hitched.

Her fingertips—slender, smooth, impossibly skilled—pressed into my shoulders. The tension in my muscles, tightened from lifting boxes and dodging store manager glares all afternoon, instantly began to melt away.

"Ahh…"

A shameless moan escaped me. Crap. It just felt too good.

Her fingers moved with gentle strength, kneading deep into the muscle around my neck and shoulders. Not too hard, not too soft. Just the right amount of pain that made it feel like she was pulling stress out from my bones.

"Does it feel good?" she asked softly.

"It's… amazing," I muttered. I could practically see my soul leaving my body like one of those anime ghosts.

Her hands traveled down slowly, tracing my spine through the thin shirt. I could feel the shape of each finger, the care in every touch. She was thorough, and also… very close.

Too close.

My senses were completely surrounded—by the sweet floral scent of her shampoo, the body heat radiating from her skin, and the natural, faintly mature fragrance that clung to her like ripened peaches in the sun.

I couldn't even tell if I was more relaxed or more aroused.

Her breath grew slightly heavier. From over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of her flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling just a bit faster now.

Tiny beads of sweat had begun to form on her forehead and neck, glistening as they slid down the smooth curve of her throat… over her collarbone… and disappeared into the shadowy valley beneath her blouse.

My imagination went into full overdrive.

"Sousuke-kun," she said softly, her voice slightly husky, "can you lie down on your stomach? This position's not very good for pressing your lower back."

"Yes, ma'am!" I said instantly, flipping over like a trained dog.

I am the fish. She is the skilled fisherman.

Please catch me thoroughly, my dear wife.

There was just one problem. I'm over 180cm tall. When I lay down, I took up the entire sofa.

Tomoko-san blinked in surprise, looking down at my stretched-out body. "You're… bigger than I expected."

"Ahaha, sorry…"

She grabbed a nearby cushion and half-knelt near my head, straddling it slightly. The angle gave her better leverage, and as her palms returned to my back, I found myself drowning in softness, warmth, and—

Something plump pressed against the back of my head.

Was that…?

I froze.

Was she kneeling… with those… that close to my—

No. Don't think about it. This is a massage. A very professional, pure-hearted, absolutely platonic massage.

But why is the lamp above us flickering like it's setting the mood…?

She moved slowly, her kneading getting deeper as she shifted positions.

The half-kneel became a straddle. Her weight settled gently onto the backs of my legs, and I felt the very soft, very realpressure of her bottom pressing down.

If I turned around right now, my eyes would probably commit a sin on their own.

She leaned forward, her breath brushing my ear as her fingers dug into the muscle around my lower back.

This was no longer just "relaxing." This was torture. Sweet, unbearable, scent-of-a-woman torture.

My entire body tensed—not in the way you'd hope during a massage.

And yet…

This was the most peaceful I'd felt in days.

With the gentle pressure, the warmth of her body, the lingering scent of dinner, and the goddess-like hands tracing my back…

I slipped into sleep.

When I awoke, it was to the sensation of something smooth and warm brushing beneath my vest.

Huh?

Her hands.

Her bare hands had slipped under my shirt.

"Massage," she murmured. "Still part of the massage…"

Her voice was low, breathy. Drenched in a quiet kind of hunger that made my spine tingle.

I stayed still. Not because I wanted to, but because my body refused to move. It was too… overwhelmed.

Time blurred. Her fingers traced along my waist, my back, slow and reverent.

She sat beside me now, legs folded neatly, eyes fixed on my bare skin like it was something precious.

No one has ever looked at me like that before.

Eventually, she let out a small sigh.

Her fingers left my back, reluctant.

"Sousuke-kun… Sousuke-kun…"

Her gentle voice stirred me awake.

"Mmh… ah, sorry," I mumbled. "I must've passed out…"

"You were so sound asleep," she whispered, brushing a hand against my hair. "I didn't have the heart to wake you…"

"But the sofa isn't comfortable all night, right? Go back to your room and rest."

I nodded sleepily, rubbing my eyes. "Thank you, Sister Tomoko… for everything."

As I stood and stretched, my whole body felt brand new. No fatigue. No tension. Just a strange, glowing warmth that lingered in my skin like phantom fingers.

I went upstairs, and she stood by the door, watching me.

Once I was gone, I heard her exhale softly behind the door.

She leaned gently against the wood, her fingers caressing it as if it were me.

And for a long time, she just stood there with a smile on her face as if she was recalling some intoxicating scene.

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