Dazzling Denny

Despite a thorough cleansing, there was still the odd booze-soggy tampon lying about outside Denise's block. As she and Amalie walked along the path towards the block, a brown and white cat sniffed one of the tampons curiously, before wincing away. The two women looked at each other, before bursting out laughing. They were each carrying two shopping bags full of food and wine, although the latter was in decent amounts as both learned from the last time they got blottoed. The few tampons lying scattered were a dead reminder of what over-consumption of alcohol and weed could lead to.

An elevator trip later the two entered Denise's classy flat at 17th floor. Her green, comfy couch soon accepted their glutei maximi. A bottle of Doppio Passo. Two wine glasses. A wooden bowl filled with crisps. A smaller wooden bowl filled with pistachio nuts. And a white, empty plate for the shells of the nuts. Then, most crucially, a big bottle of carbonated water with the taste of apple. The two leaned back in the couch, a glass of wine in their hands. Denise let out a relaxed sigh as she sunk down in the soft couch.

"Saturday..." she said, taking a sip of wine. - "In Old Norse: laugardagr." She pronounced the word with an evocative, trilled r. - "The day everybody cleaned themselves and their clothes."

"Do you know Old Norse?" Amalie asked. Denise turned to her and slowly nodded:

"In English Saturday is named after the Roman god Saturn. In Old Norse and the Nordic languages it's named after the Old Norse word for washing or cleaning: lauga."

"I did not know that." Amalie took a sip from her wine. - "I didn't even know the Vikings had a word for 'clean'."

"Oh, on the contrary, mon amie." Her hand falling gently on Amalie's shoulder. - "The Vikings were actually quite groomed compared to other people at the time. When you travel all around Europe seducing women, you need to take care of how you look."

"Seduce? You mean rape?"

"That was only a tiny minority. Most Vikings didn't rape, they had consensual sex with the most beautiful women of Europe."

Amalie looked very skeptically at Denise. She had heard a lot about the Vikings. Most of it was negative. They were a flock of savage beasts that pillaged, killed and leveled entire villages without remorse. However, if Denise said otherwise, it was probably true. After all, she had been all around the world and had vast experience in many areas in which Amalie herself was green as a lime. So, if scientists had found out that Vikings were handsome, well-groomed Casanovas secuding women all over the known world... Well, if someone picked up those news, it would have to be Denise. Who else?

"Something wrong, honey?" Denise asked, sliding a finger gently down Amalie's upper arm. The motion gave Amalie those well-known head tingles.

"Umm, no, nothing."

"It looked like you got lost in your thoughts. Something on your mind?"

"No, I'm... I'm just worried about Monday. The police station. The last time I was there, I spent 48 hours lying in the dark in my own piss."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Poor thing." Eyes shining with empathy. Her arm around Amalie. - "I'm seriously pissed at them. How they had it in their hearts to do that to you, is beyond my imagination. You must have been scared out of your mind, love!" Amalie led a shivering hand through her hair. - "Aw, poor thing, come here." Denise hugged her, resting her head on her shoulder, stroking her hand all over her back. Amalie thought her head would explode from those pesky tingles.

"I'm okay now, Denny," she said. - "Let's talk about something else. Vikings 'seducing' women, for instance..."

Denise looked at her with a smirk. Then she let go of her and poured herself another glass of wine. Amalie got her glass re-filled as well. Denise took a pistachio nut, opened it with one hand (!) and ate it. The shells she tossed on the nearby plate on the table. It hit the plate with perfect precision. Amalie took a pistachio nut and tried to open it in the same manner as Denise. She failed. Letting out a stumped sigh, she put the glass of wine on the table, before struggling with both her hands to open the nut. Denise grabbed another nut, opened it in the same manner as the first one and munched it. Shells landing on the plate. Amalie nearly broke her finger nails before she managed to open the darn nut. It fell out of the shell and rolled under the couch. Her face got an annoyed look. By that time Denise had eaten ten pistachio nuts.

"Let's put on some music," Denise said, licking her salty fingers clean. She got out of the couch without the use of hands (quite impressive given its body-snatching softness), bounced over to her black, shiny laptop and opened her Spotify Premium account. - "Spotify's the best investment I've ever done. I pay less than the price of a cheap CD per month, and I can listen to what ever I want, as much as I want. Only last week I've listened to more music than I would normally listen to in a year. If I were to buy all the music I've listened to since I started subscribing..." She turned to Amalie. - "To put it that way, I'd have to sell my flat to afford all those CDs. But then I'd need a new flat to store them all."

Soon pleasant background music started pumping softly from Denise's pink speakers. Denise cuddled back together in the couch. Amalie had resorted to eating crisps now. It was better for both her fingernails and confidence.

"How's your hair cutting going?" she asked.

"As long as people have hair, I'm not going out of business," she said. - "Thank God there is so much beautiful hair out there." She led a finger through Amalie's long, blond hair. Crazy head tingles! Amalie's mouth slightly opened. - "You know, Ams, I might have told you before, but I love your hair. So much I could've done with it. So much potential." Her hand rested on her shoulder, tapping it hypnotically. Amalie was riding on an insane wave of head tingles that the slow tapping perpetuated. - "Hey... Wild idea. After your bad cop/good cop moment, why don't you come over to my saloon and I'll cut your hair for free?"

"I..." Amalie swallowed. - "I don't think so. I like my hair the way it is. I like having long hair. I've always had long hair." Another set of taps on her shoulder. Another rush of crazy head tingles. She freed herself from Denise's debilitating shoulder tapping, getting out of the couch. She stood half-dazed in the middle of the room.

"Everything okay, dear?" Denise asked, her fingers now tapping on the couch instead. The tingles continued, albeit not that strong. Amalie led a shivering hand through her hair.

"I need to... I..." She thought she would go insane! - "D****t, Denny, could you stop that tapping?!" Denise froze in the couch, looking at her curiously, her eye brows slightly raised. Amalie's cheeks were boiling. - "It's... it's very hard to explain. But every time you touch me in a certain manner or tap stuff, me included, I get... It's very hard to explain." Denise was all ears. - "It's... it's like my head starts tingling. Very intensely. And it continues down my spine and into my arms and legs. My entire body."

"Really?" she asked intrigued. While looking her dead in the eye she slowly led her index fingernail across the fabric of the couch, a smirk on her face. The sound made Amalie plunge into yet another hail of tingles.

"Denny, please..." she pleaded.

"How does it feel?" Denise asked with a calm voice.

"It feels wonderful! Too wonderful! It's like..."

"Like your very soul is being tickled?"

Amalie stood there waivering on the verge of crying. Denise stopped the scratching. She got up and walked over to her, looking at her with kind eyes.

"I feel like such a freak," Amalie said, looking down. Denise lifted her chin up.

"You're not a freak, Ams," she said friendly. - "It's called ASMR. Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. It's common and completely harmless. Nothing to be freaked out about. It's triggered by many things. Deep voices. Slow speaking." She leaned in on her and whispered barely audibly into her ear. - "Soft whispering..." Amalie thought her head would explode! - "You're born with it. It's a very special ability, and those who have it are so darn lucky." Feeling her breath in her ear was on the very verge of what she could handle. Denise leaned away. - "I've never experienced it. I'm not born with it. But I know several other people with it. They claim it's better than an orgasm."

"What?" Amalie asked confused.

"If you surrender completely to it without judgement, it's the most wonderful thing a human being can experience." Denise took her hand. - "Are you willing to give it a try?"

Amalie twisted her body awkwardly.

"I'm not sure..."

"Babe, no one's judging you here. In fact, why should you give a f**k whether someone somewhere judges you or not?" She led Amalie over to the couch. - "Those who mind, don't matter. And those who matter, don't mind." The music was turned off. The two were sitting in the couch, holding hands, their bodies facing each other. - "I know you trust me, Ams. I trust you." Serious eyes. - "I trust you with my life. I respect you deeply."

Amalie looked at Denise for a long time.

"Okay, Denny, I'll do it," she said.

Denise put her hands on the side of Amalie's head.

"Lay down in the couch," she said softly. She slowly removed Amalie's glasses and put them on the table. Denise went down on her knees on the carpet beside Amalie's head. She whispered softly into her ear. - "Close your eyes. Take deep breaths." Amalie melted like butter in the couch, so taking deep breaths was no problem. She could feel the warmth of Denise's body next to hers, and her soft breath against her ear. Denise continued whispering in her ear. - "You are such a wonderful person... I think you're the greatest friend I've ever had..." Amalie felt a wide smile forming on her face as the kind words of her dearest friend radiated through her body. - "You're always there for me when I need someone to talk to. When I feel alone. When I'm scared. You're always there to listen to me. To comfort me. To assure me that everything's gonna be alright." Two fingers led through her long, blond hair. Amalie's mouth slightly opened, her entire body buzzing. - "And I promise you, Ams, that everything's gonna be alright with you too. You're a kind person. A great person to have around. You're gonna make them believe you did the right thing. Because you did the right thing."

Denise played with Amalie's hair while Amalie herself was in ASMR heaven. She could hear the wave-like sound of Denise's fingers going through her long locks. Her soft breath through her nose. Her own breath.

"Denny?" she asked, opening her eyes. Denise's face was above her. She reached out her hand and stroked her fingers across Denise's face. - "This is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done to me...!" Damp eyes. - "Thank you!"

A wide smile on Denise's face, before she bent down to Amalie's ear.

"I haven't even started yet, honey," she whispered.

Amalie soon got lost in Denise's unearthly sorcery of whispering, hair playing, scratching and tapping. She was like a block of ice slowly turning into water. Like plastic turning into jelly. She felt like a liquid floating forever through the unending vastness of outer space. Like floating helplessly through the great ocean of time, randomly whirled around by the great goddess of endless pleasures. Surrendering completely to her head tingles was the most mind-blowing experience of her life.

So. Very. Very. Wonderful.

"Ams?" Denise's voice sounded in the distance.

"Mmmmmyeah..." Amalie purred in a daze.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmmmm..."

"Feeling good?"

"Mmmm..."

"I take that as a yes." A hand stroking gently down the side of her head. - "You wanna lie here and sleep for a bit?"

Amalie was already drifting into sleep.

"I take that as a yes." Denise's voice sounded.

***

Amalie opened her eyes, finding herself lying on Denise's green, comfy couch with a blanket over her. It was seven in the evening and the sun had just set behind the hills. The blanket made her warm, so she was sweating. Tossing it off of her, she tumbled out of the couch, feeling profoundly relaxed. She sniffed the air. The smell of food was in the flat, the sound of the kitchen fan coming from the kitchen.

"Denny?" Amalie called out.

"I'm in the kitchen, Ams," Denise's relaxed voice sounded. Amalie got up, took her glass of wine with her and walked with slow, gentle movements into the kitchen. There Denise was busy cutting onions and garlic. Minced meat and tomatoes were sizzling in a frying pan. Spaghetti was cooking in another pan. - "Check if the spaghetti is cooked, dear."

Amalie took a fork and picked up a string of spaghetti, putting it in her mouth.

"A couple more minutes," she said.

Denise then put chopped-up onion and garlic into the frying pan, mixing it with the minced meat and tomatoes. She put different kinds of spices into it, carefully stirring it with slow, gentle movements. Amalie looked at her with a serene smile. Denise turned to her.

"Good that you're up," she said with her calm, relaxed voice. Amalie had not noticed it before, but Denise had a lovely voice! So calming, so soothing. She could listen to her voice for hours.

"How long was I out?" she asked, looking at how Denise slowly stirred the contents in the frying pan.

"Not long. Maybe an hour. Looks like that nap did you good. You look more relaxed than ever."

"I feel more relaxed than ever." Amalie looked at Denise.

"Yeah, I can tell. Your eyes. They're so calm. So kind." She took a tea spoon and put it in the frying pan, before leading it over to Amalie's mouth. - "Here, taste." Amalie tasted it. She smacked her lips. - "What do you think?"

"Couldn't possibly be better," she replied. She put her hand around Denise's waist, hugging her. She felt so incredibly relaxed, like some great tension had been released from her body. Not even after the vag-splotion with Helena in the shower did she feel so profoundly serene. She rested her head on Denise's soft, bare shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin. Denise let out a soft giggle.

"You're one cuddly little puppy today, are you," she said.

"I know..." Amalie said, her voice sounding like a whimper. - "Sorry..." She let go of Denise and stepped away from her.

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Denise said with her soft, kind voice. She slowly licked her fingers clean. Amalie's mouth slightly opened. The two stood there looking deeply into each other's eyes.

Amalie slowly approached her, embraced her and held her. A pleading smile on her face. A calm, friendly smile on Denise.

"Go ahead, girl," she said. - "What are you waiting for?"

Amalie let out a whimper, before kissing Denise. The two made out by the kitchen stove, Denise pushed up against the cupboard. Amalie was in a frenzy. Denise giggled as Amalie's hands grabbed around her buttocks. Feeling Denise's hands on her lower back and how they scratched drove her insane. She literally ached for release. She was so mindlessly aroused (not to mention mindlessly confused) that her eyes were watering. She unzipped both her own and Denise's pants.

By accident the fridge door opened. Amalie turned around and looked at all the half cucumbers covered in condoms. Denise's eyes widened as Amalie took out one of the cucumbers - the largest one - and led it down towards Denise's groin. With a firm hand she stopped Amalie's hand.

"What are you doing, Ams?" she asked. Amalie froze, her cheeks boiling, her nostrils vibrating. She dropped the cucumber, it landed with a soft thud on the floor. Denise closed the fridge door.

"I'm sorry, I..." Amalie whimpered. - "I don't know what got into me..."

"You were gonna go down on me with a cucumber?" A short laugh.

Amalie stepped away from Denise, ashamed. She could not stomach looking her in the eye. She turned around, burying her face in her hands, sobbing. Denise's hands embraced her, her head resting on her shoulder, their cheeks touching.

"There, there, Ams," Denise whispered soothingly. - "You have little experience, I know. Don't think about what just happened. It's okay." She kissed her tenderly on her cheek. - "Let's eat."

Good idea. Have dinner and forget that poor, messed-up Amalie just tried to rape her dearest friend with a condom-covered cucumber.

***

Shame was an understatement. Embarrassment an insult. Awkwardness was euphemistic to the point of being offensive. Visceral, soul-blighting, personality-annihilating loathe of one's own profound socio-dynamic limitations scratched the surface - but only slightly. One thing was for sure: She would never, ever ever eat cucumbers again. Not if she lived to be a hundred. Two hundred. A milennium. Even in the vast abyss of infinity, in the very spinning vortex of time itself, could Amalie pick up a cucumber and look at it with indifference.

Denise assured her that nothing was wrong. They were still friends. Still a bit more than friends. Friends with massive ASMR benefits. She had no ill or odd feelings towards her. However, despite Denise's words of reassurance, the two did not get more intimate that evening. They finished their meal and wine. Despite generous offers to sleep on the couch - or even in bed with Denise - Amalie walked the 30 minutes on foot back to her place. Drunk. In the middle of the night.

Confusion was an understatement. Uncertainty a slap-in-the-face slur. Stating that Amalie felt insecure was like stating that the core of the Sun itself was "kinda warm". Her mixed emotions and overwhelming fuddle were devouring her, eating away at her very soul. Even though the wine had given her a deep buzz, she was unable to sleep. At three o'clock she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her clammy hands rested under the soft pillow. Her mouth shut. Her white nightgown a ghost-like figure under her contrastively dark-blue eiderdown duvet.

Helena gave her her first orgasm caused by someone else than herself. What Denise did... It could not be described in words. It was some kind of intangible soul orgasm. A physical orgasm lasted maybe twenty seconds, if not shorter. The similar, but head-based pleasure explosion lasted way longer. It started and it did not end. If Denise had not stopped, it could have gone on indefinitely. Being in that state of head tingles forever would be... Words escaped her. Amalie's mouth slightly opened. With a whimper she tossed over on her stomach, burying her face in the soft eiderdown pillow.

Helena gave her the tingles unintentionally, although she was aware of Amalie getting them. Denise knowingly gave them to her; she knew exactly which buttons to push. Or which buttons to tap and scratch. She had even given Amalie's "head-gasms" a name.

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. ASMR. Only pronouncing the words gave her a small tingle on the side of her head.

God! Sleep was impossible! With a frustrated groan she got out of bed. Sitting on the edge of her comfy twin bed for a while, she rubbed her eyes. Eventually she got up, putting her glasses on. Her dark-red laptop was on the desk over by the red, comfy couch and the dark, oaken living room table. Sitting down she opened it and googled the letter combination ASMR. Quite a lot of search results came up. There really was such a thing. A myriad of YouTube videos. Several channels devoted to ASMR artists - or ASMR-tists as they called themselves. The list was seemingly never-ending, girls in their early 20's being overwhelmingly over-represented.

Amalie had accidentally stumbled upon a phenomenon so obscure that its Wikipedia article kept getting deleted. It did however have its own subreddit, where videos existed by the thousands.

The sleepless, bespectacled blonde spent the rest of the night watching YouTube videos. Videos that essentially showed soft-voiced girls looking her dead in the eye with massively dilated pupils while tantalizing her with whispering, scratching surfaces, washing their hands, tapping tin cans slowly, chewing chewing gum and turning the pages of books. Among very many other things.

Amalie was confused by the sudden presence of sunlight. She had just finished watching a stunning, doe-eyed beauty spending 48 minutes combing her red hair while talking about how her day had been. She squinted at the high sun and the clear, blue sky. The clock on the computer showed that it was one in the afternoon.

"What the Hell...?" she muttered. What the Hell indeed. She had spent ten hours watching ASMR videos on her computer. Her bum was one big sore. Her back was killing her! Her feet were so cold that she could barely feel them. Her eyes were so dry and sore that she might as well have rubbed dust in them. Her ears were red and tender from having worn headphones for so long.

Getting up, she stretched her body. Now that her circulation was improved, she noticed that she needed to pee so badly. Cross-your-thighs level. She ran to the toilet, lifted her white nightgown and pissed like a waterfall. Resting her face in her hands, she let out a long, jaw-cracking yawn. Talk about pulling an all-nighter! Not only did she suffer the effects of a sleepless night, she was hung over too. The worst possible combination. She needed a shower, coffee and a proper meal.

Shower. Her weary gaze fell on Helena's two sacred bottles. Her intentionally forgotten items. The shampoo and the conditioner. Sebastian Penetrate. The delicious deluge of warming, wonderful water nearly put her to sleep. She leaned against the wall of the spacy shower, virtually purring like a kitten. If only Helena was there...! Or Denise...! Preferably the both of them! There was a strong scent in the shower. It was soon drowned in the scent of shampoo and conditioner. That is, her own. Amalie's strong urges remained unsatisfied; she respected herself too much to give in.

Coffee. An Arab invention that upon its discovery sent the world into fifth gear. Suddenly people could function even when they were tired or weary. How the world turned its wheels before the age of coffee was hard for her to comprehend. She brewed an entire pot, before she started cutting vegetables and potatoes. Her stomach was growling. Yeah, yeah, take it easy, dear tummy. Food is being made. There is no risk of starvation. Amalie opened the cupboard and took out a big bag of vinegar-flavored crisps. She put a frying pan and a regular pan on the stove. Opening the bag of crisps, she started munching them, savoring the salty vinegar taste and the crispy sensation.

Food. Nobody could live without it. Many had tried. None had succeeded. The vegetables and potatoes were simmering in a pan. A large veal steak was sizzling in the frying pan, along with generous amounts of butter. Amalie munched crisps like crazy while watching over her much needed dinner. She then guzzled coffee with Coffee Mate in it. It tasted great! Half a pot of coffee was consumed and an entire bag of vinegar-flavored crisps devoured. She let out a burp and held to her tummy. Like a little child she had spoiled her appetite before dinner.

She cut the veal steak into little pieces. She put it, the vegetables and the potatoes into Tupperware boxes. Being strung-out on coffee, she sat down in front of the computer, a cup of coffee in her hand. With a visibly shaking hand she opened her laptop and put the headphones on.

***

Heeey... This is DazzlingDenny1988...

Denise's massively dilated blue eyes stared at Amalie. The blonde was trapped in a proverbial waterfall of head tingles, of never-ending head tingles. Her kind smile. Her soft, whispering voice against her ear. DazzlingDenny1988 was Amalie's favorite ASMR-tist. She had been a subscriber for years. Even long after the YouTube channel stopped receiving new videos from her. Even long after YouTube itself ceased to exist. Luckily she had the videos on her computer.

Amalie sat there mesmerized by those ancient videos. She was ancient herself now as well. Her blond hair was completely white. Her skin wrinkled and leather-like. She was in a wheelchair, living in a home for elderly citizens. Her life was soon to be over, and she did not even realize that her entire life had passed by her at all.

Do you want me to comb your hair?

Amalie nodded. She let out a frail whimper as Denise combed the side of her camera, making it sound like it was Amalie's hair that she was combing.

I've got this new purse of mine... It's got a very rugged surface. Do you want me to scratch it?

Amalie nodded. The advantage of digital recordings was that they never aged. Denise had been dead for years. Those videos had been made a lifetime ago. Yet still, her voice sounded as fresh as if she was talking to her right now. They could be played again and again and again. And so they had. For decades.

They still gave her the tingles. The insanely strong tingles. She had allowed her entire life to slip through her fingers because of them. Time had moved on without her and nearly forgotten about her. Now it had come to claim her.

"Denny..." Amalie murmured with her ancient voice, stretching out her wrinkled, arthritis-ridden hand. A tear down her face. A sore, ancient whimper.

Looking into Denise's staring, massively dilated blue eyes, she passed away. She died at 24. She was not buried before the age of 94.

Amalie woke up in the terrifying confinement of sleep paralysis.