Exotic Sensations

There's no worse feeling in life than waking up with a fever on a Saturday morning. Well, to the average person there are probably plenty of feelings worse than that, but at least to Michael, whose life was rather dull at the moment, being sick was especially detrimental. One of his few passions in life was fitness, you see. Every day he would make sure to get some sort of exercise in, typically in the form of a jog as the sun began to set.

But alas, here he was, his insides practically boiling as he closed the zipper on his training coat. Being sick wasn't going to stop him, but it certainly was irritating. Of course he had heard about the risks associated with training with a fever, but surely it was all overblown, right? He was just gonna run, after all. How could such a basic human function ever be dangerous?

Just as he was about to put on his running shoes however, his doorbell rang. Poor timing for sure, but he wasn't annoyed in the slightest. He already had a strong suspicion of who it was, and as he swung the door open his suspicion was confirmed, to his delight. It was his next door neighbour, the only one in the whole apartment building that he actually gave a damn about, and for good reasons.

What reasons, you ask? Well, for starters, unlike most of his neighbours she was only a year older than him... and drop-dead gorgeous. The ample curves of her thick body were impossible to go unnoticed, especially considering the large amount of cleavage she was showing, as well as her thick, beautiful thighs barely covered by a pair of shorts. It almost felt as if an exotic heat radiated off of her brown, caramel-like skin that gave away her heritage from the Middle East.

There they stood, eye to eye, his five foot ten frame almost perfectly aligned with her similar one. They looked at each other for no more than a second, which, like every time Michael saw her, felt like an eternity. An eternity during which he inspected her pretty face, adoring her every feature, from her thick, kissable lips to her gorgeous, hazel eyes and bushy eyebrows that were slightly creased from the warm smile on her face.

"Hey, Imani," he greeted her, as cheerily as always when speaking to her.

"Hi, Mike!" she bubbled, her smile widening as she spoke his name. "Going for an evening run?"

Michael instantly felt his fever-induced irritation die out in her presence. "Yeah, there's no better way to spend a Saturday evening if you ask me."

"Hmm, I don't know about that..." she mused, in that sexy, subtle accent of hers. "Are you sure you don't wanna stay inside and have some dinner?" There it was, reason number two. In her right hand she was carrying a large basket with a square-pattern cloth covering it, and as she brought it up and held it out in front of her, the mouth-watering scent immediately began seeping into Michael's nose.

This was something she did constantly; cook an enormous batch of ethnic food and then give a bunch of it to him, claiming that she had accidentally made too much. And he always appreciated it. Not once had she made a dish that he didn't find delicious, and not once had she delivered it to him with anything less than a radiant smile.

Michael's mouth immediately began salivating. "Come on, Imani..." he said, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. "You're spoiling me."

"Not at all!" she replied snappily. "Everyone needs some support after moving away from their parents."

One look at her joyful expression was all it took to make his day. The food was just a bonus. Furthermore, she knew damn well that he had already lived here for more than a year already, he didn't need any help when it came to food, not from an economic nor culinary perspective. And contrary to what it might have looked like, he knew that she wasn't trying to invite herself into his apartment. Out of kindness - well, for the most part at least - he had invited her to eat with him several times, but she had always declined.

"Well, thank you, I really appreciate it. But still, I think I'll be eating itafter I've gone for a jog."

Imani tilted her head to the side and let out a little sigh. "There really is no way to stop you, is there?"

"No," chuckled Michael. "I suppose not.

In the short silence that ensued afterwards, Imani couldn't help but notice that his cheeks seemed to have taken on a slight red tint. Was he... blushing? Just from that little gesture? A wave of happiness washed over her from the thought that something so simple could have caused such a reaction, but it quickly went away in favor of a feeling of suspicion.

There was something off about him. He had never reacted this way before, and looking closer, it was clear that he wasn't just red in the face. He had already started to sweat before even leaving his apartment, and more than that, his usual mannerisms when greeting her seemed a bit different. Instead of standing tall and proud he was hunched over, awkwardly staring down at the floor with a pair of eyes that seemed to have trouble staying open.

"What's the matter?" She leaned forward as she poke, in an attempt to meet his gaze.

Her sudden inquiry made him snap out of his daze, causing him to quickly stand up straight. "... What? N-nothing!"

But Imani didn't buy it. "Do you have a fever?" she pressed, putting her hands on her hips as she sternly stared him down.

"... No! I... I'm just a little tired!"

"Really now?" she replied, her tone dry and heavy with doubt. "Why not let me be the judge of that?"

Michael had no time to react as she took a determined step forward, reaching out with her hand and pressing it against his forehead, the comparatively cool temperature of her palm coming as a welcome breeze against his blazing skin. This time he was blushing for real, not that Imani took notice of it.

"Michael! You're burning up!"

He pulled away from her. "I'm fine! It's no big deal!"

"'No big deal'?!" Imani repeated, stunned by his carelessness. "You were about to go running with a fever for god's sake!

"Well... it's gonna be a short one, I promise."

"No, screw that. Come here." Adamantly strutting past both the entrance and him, she grabbed on to his training coat and began pulling him back into his apartment, giving him no say in the matter.

"What are you doing?" Michael blurted, raising an eyebrow at the sudden intrusion while getting dragged towards his bedroom at the end of the far end of the apartment.

Imani didn't even flinch, she just kept pulling his arm. "What do you think? I'm putting you back to bed."

Michael let out an awkward chuckle, not sure if she was joking or not. "Are you kidding? What are you, my mother?"

"Well, maybe I should be if you're going to be acting like a child," she grumbled, shamelessly making her way into his bedroom, which thankfully was perfectly clean and fresh. "Now lie down!" She pointed at the bed, giving Michael a death stare that was met with his speechless one.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. I care about your health. You need to rest!"

He gave her a look of disbelief, as he slowly understood that she had completely dropped her happy demeanor from moments before. This was definitely a new side to her. Sure, she was sweet and caring, but taking it this far was odd to say the least, especially considering how calm and gentle she usually was. But nevertheless, he knew that she was right. He was understandably embarrassed from the way she was treating him, but in her defense he did behave a bit childish.

"Okay," he sighed at last. "You're right." He walked over to the bed and sat down, removing his training jacket in the process, before lying down on the white cover, still clad in shorts and a t-shirt.

"Good. But... are you sure you don't wanna undress first?"

Michael went silent for a moment before letting out a nervous chuckle. "Wow, Imani, you're not even gonna buy me dinner first?" he joked, only to quickly regret it. The very instant his words left his mouth he felt a wave of heat wash over him from his dumb attempt at brightening the mood. In that moment he was thankful for his already flushed face.

Thankfully, her response made it evident that she didn't mind. "Ha-ha, very funny. Although, speaking of dinner..."

"... Yes?"

Imani looked towards the kitchen. "You have a microwave, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"Mind if I use it?" she asked, giving him a sly little smirk.

"What, are you gonna prepare dinner for me too?" he shot back, in a half-cocked, perplexed smile, still unconvinced that she wasn't pulling his leg.

"I'll take that as a yes!" And just like that she was gone, not even giving Michael a chance to respond to her.

Michael shook his head before resting it against the pillow, leaving the rest of his warm body bare, save for what was covered by his clothing. Only then did the situation start to sink in. He was in his bed, with his crush in his apartment, who was in the process of heating up dinner for him... A delicious dinner at that, if her previous meals were anything to go by.

He couldn't help but blush at the thought that someone would do this for him, let alone someone as perfect as her. A big, dumb grin crept onto his face as he imagined how the scenario could possibly escalate into something that he had often fantazised about. Perhaps she would start by feeding him? Then "accidentally" drop some food onto his chest and proceed to wipe it off, only to be unable to keep her hands from touching him further... Her hazel eyes would meet his green ones... She would lean in, letting her hot breath graze his face before they finally connected in a wet ki-

"Dinner's ready!"

Michael's entire body jolted in alarm as Imani barged into the room, drawing him out of his reverie. In her hand was a plate, on top of which was something that was out of his view from the bed where he was lying. He could see the steam coming off it, though... and feel the exquisite scent flooding his bedroom.

"That was... quick," he blurted, his mouth already watering.

"Well, the food was already a bit warm, so..." She set the plate down at Michael's nightstand, feeling more than a hint of pride from seeing his wide eyes glued to the meal she presented him with.

"What... what is it?" It looked like a fairly simple dish to him, mostly seasoned rice topped with chicken thighs, nuts and peppers. But simplicity wasn't necessarily a bad thing. One look was enough for him to determine that it would doubtlessly be absolutely scrumptious.

"Oh, just some kabsa I threw together. Nothing fancy."

Michael watched as she began cutting off a piece of chicken, before spearing it with her fork and shoveling some rice onto it as well. To his great surprise, the situation took a turn for the unexpected when she suddenly brought the fork towards him, with one hand under it to prevent spilling. Was his fantasy becoming a reality...?

"Open wide," she said, holding the fork in front of his mouth, the scent rising right into the stunned Michael's nostrils.

An awkward silence ensued as he eyed her for a moment. "Okay, hold on... You're seriously gonna feed me?"

"Well, yeah!" she replied cheerily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Imani, I'm not dying. I just have a fever."

A hint of a frown was suddenly visible on her face. "Oh, come on, just let me take care of you! You need to rest as much as possible if you wanna get well quickly."

"... I mean, I guess..." Michael mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "But isn't this all a bit much?"

"No, I don't think so. I know how much you want to go out and exercise, so why not do everything to get better faster?"

Michael thought about it for a moment, before shrugging. He reluctantly opened his mouth, which was promptly filled with the forkful of food. As he began chewing on it, the tender chicken and perfectly cooked rice started dissolving almost instantly, the aromatic flavors spreading out as if by a little explosion in his mouth. He couldn't help but let out a little moan as he savored not only the delicious taste, but also the joy of having an exotic beauty like her feed him in his bed. It was a bit of a weird scenario, sure, but all in all, he wasn't going to dwell on it.

Imani giggled softly. "Sounds like you enjoyed it."

"Uh... yeah, it's... really tasty," Michael mumbled awkwardly, embarrassed by his involuntary reaction.

"Good, there's probably another two portions in your fridge."

Michael waited impatiently as she prepared another bite of food for him, once again bringing the fork up to his lips. "You really made this yourself?" he asked and gleefully opened his mouth to be fed more deliciousness. That very question was actually something he had wanted to ask her regarding every meal she ever cooked for him, but he had never had a good opportunity. Truth be told he wasn't even sure what she worked as, so it was entirely possible that she was a chef, or at least worked in a kitchen of some sort.

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's really, really good. Like, you could make money off this."

"Aww, aren't you just the sweetest!" she beamed, playfully nudging him on the arm.

That wide smile on her face was among the most beautiful things he had ever seen. One look at it was all it took for him to feel like he could die a happy man at that very moment. He made a mental note to compliment her more often in the future, just to have a few extra moments of bliss in his everyday life.

"I guess it could be fun," she continued. "Y'know, being a chef or something..."

"You'd have my support, that's for sure."

Imani giggled, showing off her perfect rows of white teeth in an even prettier smile than a moment ago. "I appreciate it. But at the end of the day, I think I prefer having it as a hobby."

"Guess that gives you more time to make food for me," Michael said, putting on a cocky smirk that barely did the trick in hiding his nervousness.

"Exactly! It's a win-win!"

They looked at each other for a moment of silence, before Michael's smile suddenly died out. "Hey, I don't mean to sound unwelcoming or anything... but do you really have time to just sit here and feed me? You must have stuff to do, right?"

Imani shrugged as she speared another piece of chicken with her fork. "Not really. Besides, what could be more important than helping out my favorite neighbour in his time of need?" There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and she even finished her sentence with a seductive wink.

Michael blushed once again, unable to think of anything to say in response to her. He couldn't shake the feeling of just how odd this whole thing was, getting taken care of this intimately by a mere neighbour, albeit one that he was on friendly terms with. But at the end of the day, that's all they really were: Neighbours. He couldn't really go as far as to call her a friend, at least not yet, and she probably saw him the same way. She was only doing this out of kindness... right?

"... Michael? Are you dozing off on me?"

Only then did he notice that he had closed his eyes, yet was still mindlessly chewing the food in his mouth. "... Huh?" he blurted, groggily turning to look at Imani sitting there with another bite of food ready.

"Getting tired?" she asked, putting the fork back on the plate.

"... A little, I guess."

"Alright, maybe it's time for me to head out," she said, grabbing the plate from the nightstand. "I'll come back tomorrow to check on you, alright?"

"Imani, you really don't have to-"

"Oh, hush!" she interrupted, already turning her back on him and walking out the bedroom door, towards his kitchen. "I'll be here whether you like it or not."

"... Fine," Michael mumbled. "As long as you bring me a nice breakfast."

"Deal!" Imani shouted back as she started to go through his drawers in search of some plastic wrap for the food he had left. After finding a roll of it, she quickly covered up his plate of kabsa and proceeded to open his fridge, immediately noting that it was strangely empty... just waiting to be filled up with more of her food.

Having refrigerated the remaining tubs of food that she had brought in her basket, Imani decided to peak in on Michael one last time before leaving. She entered his bedroom only to find him lying there with his head slumped over to the side and his eyes closed, breathing heavily and peacefully. Not even three minutes had passed since she left the room, and he had already went and fallen asleep from the looks of it.

... But she had to double-check to make sure. "Michael?" she whispered, slowly inching closer to the bed. As expected, there was no response, other than heavy, drawn out breaths, making it sound as if he was already deep into his slumber. Imani squatted down, bringing her face right above his, scanning his flushed, feverish appearance, the slight frown he had on his face as he snoozed away making it look like he was suffering in his sleep. She could feel his scent too, oozing out of him with the droplets of sweat running down his skin, mixed with that of shampoo and deodorant... It was a smell she knew very well by now, though in this instance it was ten times more intense than usual...

She couldn't hold it in any longer. As if she had been holding her breath ever since she greeted him at the door, she suddenly broke into a panting, clutching the mattress in a tight grip and taking in deep whiffs of his scent. She stared at his open mouth, his juicy lips parting and closing with his breaths, and found herself struggling to hold herself back from sticking her tongue inside.

"Oh mygod, Michael," she gasped, leaning in even closer to him, until she could feel his labored breath on her face. "You're so fucking hot, baby..." Carefully, as to not wake him up, she laid her head down onto the pillow next to him, biting her lip as she continued to gaze upon his handsome face. His square, but far from huge jawline, his cute, wide nose, his full, long eyelashes that filled her with jealousy every time she saw them... And all of said features topped with short, auburn waves of hair. He was just so... dreamy.

She continued to adore him for a few more seconds, before letting out a deep sigh as she stood back up. "Just you wait... Tomorrow will beour day..." With that, she finally turned around and headed out. It was about time for her to catch some sleep as well, and the faster the next day came around, the better.

----------

As it turns out, stress and physical exertion make for a bad experience when paired with a fever. Michael became painfully aware of this as he pressed the elevator button to the floor where he lived, out of breath, sweating, even close to fainting. Normally he would have taken the stairs like the fit boy he was, but not this time. He knew when he was defeated, even if it was to something as lame as a sickness.

He hadn't been out running. Although he had wanted to, he was smarter than to go against the very thing Imani had scolded him about the day before. What he had done this morning was nothing more than going to the supermarket and getting some essentials for his fever: Some painkillers, ginger tea, and an ice pack, all in the hopes of being just a little bit less of a mess when spending time with his crush.

"Come on, come on..." he muttered to himself as the elevator slowly brought him to his floor, hoping that Imani would still be at her place. There was no telling how she would react if she were to find out that he had been running errands, and he wasn't too keen on finding out. He had made sure to go up as early as possible, but returning to his home at eight in the morning definitely carried a great risk. If only the checkout line hadn't been so damn long...

As the elevator finally let out a ding, Michael didn't even wait for the doors to open all the way, instead choosing to squeeze himself through just to buy an extra second. He quickly made his way to his front door, fumbling with his keys and cursing under his breath as the seconds ticked away. But just as he was about to insert his key into the keyhole, the sound of the neighbouring door opening made him freeze in place.