Kwon Yuri, the Retired Idol
When I first met Kwon Yuri, the retired idol from her glory days (36 years old, ex-idol), I poured out pure memories from my school days. Like any ordinary office worker, or in that girly chit-chat where they hype each other up, I lavished praise on the classic albums I'd listened to back then. The long-take, high-quality music videos. The fleeting glimpse I caught of her at a university event when she was at the peak of her fame. Out of the four group members, I of course liked Kwon Yuri the most—I licked her up with all the enthusiasm I could muster. I knew it was over-the-top, but lines like these are something women never hate. So up to that point, the vibe was fantastic.
But my personality got the better of me—I was too hasty.
"So, Yuri."
"Yeah, go ahead."
"About the contract... could we skip doing it right at your place?"
"...Pardon?"
"Ah~ I just wanna check out what a celebrity's house looks like. Wonder what yours is like, and fuck you senseless while sniffing your scent."
"..."
"Ah! We haven't stamped the contract yet, right? So we can just call it a product promo deal or whatever. A one-year contract, meeting up like ten times should be plenty."
I spat out my dark intentions without a filter. Part of it was probably Jiwon's influence. Since I was the one footing the bill directly, I figured she'd accept it purely, no matter how blunt I got. And I was rushing because of that too—eager to pop an idol MILF's cherry while reliving the overwhelming thrill from my youth.
Splash!
But it wasn't like shaking a champagne cork. Kwon Yuri sprayed the mineral water she was drinking right in my face. Like she'd rehearsed a drama scene, she rinsed me off refreshingly before revealing her completely changed expression.
"Fuck off, you pervert bastard."
"..."
"Ha... what the hell were you gonna do at my place? I was wondering what this was about, and here comes trash like you."
Standing up after dousing my face, Kwon Yuri roughly plopped back down, slouching crookedly in her chair. In the meeting room where it was just the two of us across the table, she propped her foot up arrogantly, flaunting her haughty posture.
Click!
She rummaged through her outerwear and pulled out a single cigarette with practiced ease. Popping it in her mouth, she lit it with a Zippo, then exhaled a satisfying puff.
"What's with that look? You think just because you're bankrolling a celebrity, she'll bark like a pet and pant for you?"
"..."
"I don't care if you're some chaebol heir with money to burn—if you're gonna fuck me over, do it. I'll just say I got sexually harassed here and drag it out."
My hasty dialogue tanked her favorability straight to the basement depths. Now she looked ready to finish her smoke and bail, contract be damned.
'She's not as materialistic as Jiwon.'
Here, I had two options. Push hard from the dominant position of a sponsor with overwhelming capital. Or play it warm like sunlight, smiling it off.
No need for long deliberation. From the start, who the other person was made the first option off the table.
I wiped it off cleanly—swish, swish. Not with a napkin, but the designer tablecloth worked fine as a handkerchief substitute. I wiped my face refreshingly. I'm a gentleman. No matter what anyone says, endlessly gentle to MILFs.
I grinned sweetly.♥ How could I possibly threaten such an adorable MILF?
"Perfect timing—I was thirsty. Thanks."
"Want me to splash you again? You don't seem to have learned."
"I'll pass. So, is this the real Kwon Yuri?"
"Why? Disappointed now that I've stopped grinning like an idiot? Think whatever. Go post hate comments on Instagrab or whatever. I'll sue your ass with all of them."
"Hahaha."
I let out a dry laugh. But I didn't just bluff—I bowed my head low.
In the industry, sponsors like me are definitely the top dogs, but I bent my waist without hesitation.
"First off, I apologize for my rudeness."
"..."
"I figured since the agency had quietly agreed to this kind of thing, it was fine to be direct about my intentions."
"Fuck that. My manager said you wanted a clean meeting."
"I thought it was a euphemism. Irony, maybe?"
My opening move was a total blunder all around. Lately, things had come too easy, so I'd charged in blindly without proper intel on her. Less like strategically targeting a precious MILF, more like shoving my hard cock at her. In sex terms, it was like skipping foreplay and jamming into a dry pussy while shaking my hips.
So this was on me. I owned it outright and reset the board.
Admitting the mistake seemed to salvage things somewhat from the dumpster fire. She hadn't expected me to bow, and after sucking her cigarette down to the filter, Kwon Yuri stubbed it out in the crystal ashtray and finally lifted her ass off the seat.
"Fine. We won't meet again."
"Hold on a sec."
"I'm busy. If you wanna pay to fuck an old celebrity, find someone else. There's a truckload of bitches who'll spread for chon units."
"That's tempting too, but right now, I'm only interested in you, Yuri."
I grinned.
"Look, I wasn't lying about being a diehard fan in my teens. You saw how I rattled off not just the hits but all the B-sides."
"..."
The smile she'd shown at first meeting was surely fake. A capitalist grin hardened from years in the industry. Still, she didn't hate the fawning. The more I praised, the more I shared how often I'd listened, the more genuine her smile became. She'd probably heard it plenty in her youth, but as she aged, those shoutouts dwindled. Fading attention, that hollow melancholy. The depression women hit in their thirties applied to idols too. Especially for an attention whore like her—being left alone must leave an unbearable void.
"So what?"
"Since my fan heart is genuine, forgive my earlier rudeness. As compensation, I'll double the contract fee."
She wavered at the violent "double," but her gaze soon sharpened coolly.
"...Whatever. Your sleazy intent to fuck hasn't changed."
"It could be sleazy, or pure. Liking an idol always mixes worship with sexualizing her, right?"
"Talking like you know everything in front of a 17-year vet is gross."
"Haha, and besides the sponsor contract, I have another proposal."
I played my hidden card. Something I'd spotted after skimming her documents.
"Secret Girls never had a retirement stage, huh?"
"..."
Her expression softened drowsily. She had plenty to say, murmuring bitterly as memories surfaced.
"Last single tanked. After that, we did some events and concerts, then gigs dried up and we drifted apart. So-called hiatus retirement."
"Meaning no proper retirement show?"
"What else? We missed the timing, it fizzled out and got forgotten. Feels unfinished, but who gives a shit about a veteran idol's sob story when idols are a dime a dozen?"
"I see."
It matched the intel perfectly—I got it.
"Then I'll sponsor Secret Girls' retirement concert."
"!!?"
Here I caught another glimpse of her expressions. The standard idol smile. The dry side that spews curses in cafes. And at this final offer, the childlike eyes widening like a kid getting a surprise gift from Dad.
"Might as well go big for the finale. Dome stadium... or should I rent the World Cup Stadium outright?"
"What the hell... Do you know how much a concert costs?!"
She shot up, slamming the table—bang!—"This isn't some cheap hookup! Throw a half-assed one and if tickets don't sell, it's total humiliation and losses that become debt!"
"With your stage chops, no way it'll flop."
Tsk!
"...It's been eight years. Wrapped up eight years ago. Last concert barely broke even—we dumped tickets cheap mid-run, then scraped by on event stages till it ended."
I pointed out the cold reality. But mentioning concerts flushed her cheeks with unconcealable excitement. She craved the new thrill. Her twitching lips betrayed how badly she wanted this deep down.
"Agency outsources anyway, so I'll cover all losses. Even if it flops, it's a retirement show—not about profit."
"No, why are you deciding this on your own...!"
"You want it too, deep down, right Yuri?"
"..."
"Some sucker shows up offering to fund it—time to be honest."
Her sharp tongue clamped shut at the jab. She stared me down, vibe screaming she couldn't read my motives.
"Why go this far? That desperate to fuck me?"
"To be honest again, yeah that's part of it."
I smirked.
"Plus remorse for my rudeness."
"If you really go this far... you won't just let it slide."
"Right. Change of terms—I want a serious relationship with you, Yuri."
"...? That's it? Just... meet up with me?"
"Yes."
I nodded, back to pure sincerity. Still wary on first meeting, not buying my background yet, she added a quiet safeguard.
"...Even if we meet, no touching or teasing without permission."
"We'll write it in the contract."
"Verbal's fine. Putting it in writing just creates controversy fodder."
"Got it. Mutual consent meetings. Anything beyond the sponsor contract stays confidential?"
"...Do what you want. I'll run it by the agency."
Still suspicious, gauging if this was real. But I was dead serious. She'd doubt the absurdity, but I'd pour so much she'd burst. Testing the waters revealed Kwon Yuri's surprisingly nuanced side. Sure, she wanted money, but craved something cash couldn't buy.
Love.
This MILF thirsted for attention over material wealth. She'd tried distancing after my crass line, but the concert card flipped her completely. The adoration from her idol days. Recreating past glory. Trickier than simple cash sponsorship. Had to worm into her heart, dispel doubts, fill her with love.
I grinned. That's why I loved it. Got me even more fired up.
"So, we're good?"
"...Hmph."
Much tastier this way. Saliva pooled at the thought of slowly peeling away this haughty MILF's layers.