Wait for the ramen

You take your bath in the private onsen inside your suite and then settle onto the tatami mat in your suite to relax. A few minutes later, there's a soft voice at the door. After you give the permission, Orie slides the shoji screen open with practiced grace.

​She carries a large tray, the aroma of rich, fatty pork broth and toasted nori filling the small space instantly. She has changed out of her work clothes into a thinner, more translucent silk robe of deep indigo, her damp hair pinned up with a simple wooden comb. As she kneels before you to set the bowls down, the neckline of her robe gaps, offering a generous view of her pale, firm cleavage that belies her forty years.

​"We made it just the way you like it," she murmurs, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial hum. "Extra pork, and the broth has been simmering since you left this morning."

​You pick up the chopsticks, but your eyes remain fixed on her. The way she watches you eat is hungry in a way that has nothing to do with food. Her hands rest on her thighs, her fingers digging slightly into the silk as she follows the movement of your throat when you swallow.

​"It’s perfect, Orie-san," you say, your voice husky, after you set down the last bowl.

​"Is it?" she asks.

"Yes, and the ramen are good too,"

Orie leans closer. The scent of jasmine and salt drifts off her skin, mingling with the steam of the ramen. "I am wondering if there is anything else I can provide to ensure your stay is... truly unforgettable."