The Motel
"Today was truly the worst. I might quit the group altogether."
With that, Chae-rin lifted her beer glass and took a sip.
Worst, huh? In what way, exactly?
When I put on a curious expression, Chae-rin avoided my gaze and stalled.
"Hmm…"
"Was someone giving you a hard time?"
"No, it's nothing like that."
"You shouldn't quit. It's my first time coming out today."
"It's just… I wasn't in the mood to drink with all that ruckus. I think it's time I gave up drinking too. I feel more worn down with every passing day."
So that was the reason.
Now, a seasoned manipulator would pounce on a moment like this and coax her along—days like this are exactly when you should drink. Let the alcohol wash away that heartbreak.—but that's strictly amateur hour.
Even as she declared she was done with drinking, Chae-rin couldn't leave her beer glass alone. I boldly laid my hand over hers.
"Whoa there—then allow me to finish this one for you."
As I said it, I yanked her glass and her hand toward my side of the table. The half-full beer sloshed dangerously, on the verge of spilling over.
Chae-rin, thoroughly deflated, stuck her lower lip out in a pout. Pulled by my grip, her body had slid flush against mine, and in the middle of it all her mouth had wandered a good four inches off course.
It was the perfect timing to simply bring my lips down onto hers.
Even so, I didn't let my caution slip. I merely gazed down at her lips and said this:
"You shouldn't drink like this when you're feeling low. Alcohol is strictly for good days only."
And Chae-rin handed back precisely the answer I had predicted.
"Then let's just say I'm in a good mood right now. I'll drink only this much. Come on, hand it over."
Seeing her plead like that, her voice thick with a whine, it was obvious her mood had improved.
She had left the group drinking session to have a solo third round, after all—and when I'd crashed her table claiming to join her, she'd been absolutely delighted to see me.
"You say that and now it feels wrong to refuse. When you're happy, Noona, so am I."
I let the flirting slip out with studied nonchalance, and returned the beer glass to its rightful owner.
Not that I released Chae-rin's hand. Mine still rested over hers where she held the glass.
"We promise—just this much today. And drinking is only ever for good days. Agreed?"
"…Fine. Promise."
Not that she was pretending to promise against her will. The whine was still in her voice.
Then, of all things, she drew her other hand out and extended nothing but her pinky toward me—with the cutest expression plastered on her face.
Only then did I let go of her hand. If you're going to pinky-promise on a pinky, there's no other option on the menu.
In the middle of sealing the deal with our linked pinkies, a snort of laughter escaped me. So a man not yet thirty and a woman in her mid-thirties could regress to this level of childishness together.
It felt like being back in elementary school. I suppose she felt the same.
Our intimate drinks for two ripened nicely without a single additional order. All that graced the table was a dried fish appetizer going stale, and yet it felt like plenty.
Because the moist side dish was her lips.
"Hmm…"
Mid-kiss, she tried to start her engine, attempting to say something. I didn't allow it. I sealed her mouth shut with my lips again.
I didn't care that another group of patrons seated way across the room was staring our way.
The moment our first kiss—three full minutes of it—drew to a close, she said:
"Hey. We just met today. You're not supposed to do this, you know that?"
I neither argued nor cowered. I only wore a sheepish grin. And the smile wouldn't leave her face either.
Four more kisses followed after that, and every time she welcomed my lips with open arms. While insisting we'd just met and I shouldn't be doing this.
When I extended my tongue, she willingly extended hers. When I tilted my head one way, she tilted hers the opposite way.
In that moment, we were undeniably playing jazz. The mood was swinging.
Because this was what a swing truly was. It was the swing of jazz, yes, and also the swing of a baseball bat—since I'd hit a home run on day one.
The heart of Jongno's neon district was a prime spot where you could snag a motel without any help from a lodging app.
The motel just one block over from the bar-and-fried-chicken joint required crossing its parking lot to reach the entrance.
Chae-rin and I barged in, shoving aside the privacy screens of the kind every Korean motel strings up across its parking lot. And there was something oddly titillating about it. Grown adults as we were, we both got a delicious little thrill of wrongdoing.
When she'd been shoving the screens aside, her movements had been bold and decisive. But standing before the front desk, she ducked her head and turned bashful all over again—which was rather adorable.
Needless to say, I paid. For a second I wondered whether the shyness had been an act to duck the bill, but the moment I turned to look at Chae-rin, that suspicion dissolved on its own.
Just look at that sorry outfit. There was something like red soup stains on her black track pants.
She must have sensed herself that she didn't look like a woman about to have sex, because she'd wrapped her cardigan around herself like it was some Joseon-era jangot veil. There wasn't a shred of calculation in her.
Ah, at the mere thought of stripping that innocent woman bare, my boxers are already soaked through.
We paid, and got in the elevator. Just the two of us inside.
We'd been assigned Room 302, and the instant I pressed the 3 button, I went in for a kiss. At the same time, I slipped my hand into the gap at her side—under her arm—and, as if cradling her ribs, brushed my thumb across the side of her breast.
"Ah—♡"
The moment she let out that short moan, the elevator doors opened.
I had no intention of letting all that heated momentum go pitifully cold. Chae-rin, I imagine, felt exactly the same.
As if we'd rehearsed it, we hurriedly stripped. We skipped the shower and made a beeline for the bed.
In my rush I had flung everything off, so I was completely naked. Chae-rin, by contrast, wore nothing but her bra and panties.
A strapless nubra and black cotton panties. That bare-minimum underwear made my cock stiffen all the harder—because it showed she'd gone out with no thought whatsoever of sex.
As Chae-rin lay back on the bed, the swell of her breasts peeked out from under the nubra. An A cup? Generously, a small B?
A modest size like that suited me fine. I don't put much stock in breast size.
What I prize is the recessed line where the waist curves into the hips—and on that front, Chae-rin passed with flying colors.
"I'm embarrassed… stop staring."
Chae-rin covered her eyes with the edge of the blanket, moaning the words out.
I gave her cheek a light kiss and said,
"Because you're beautiful."
Then I brought my hand straight between her legs. I did the one thing that can only be done before pulling the panties off—a task that turned already-damp underwear that much soggier.
Since she hadn't anticipated any of this, she had no spare pair on her. Come tomorrow, she'd be heading home in panties stiffened dry by crusted arousal.
"Stop… ihiit…♡ Ah!"
And yet the better she felt, the more she writhed and carried on. Textbook case of words and actions refusing to match.
When I withdrew my hand, Chae-rin let out a sigh. Half of it was regret. The other half seemed filled with the feeling of tension melting sweetly away. Possibly an orgasm.
I slid her panties off. For all the sharp nips of her waist, her hips and thighs were on the sturdy side—ideal for stress-testing the elasticity of those black cotton panties she'd been wearing.
Before I knew it, she'd kicked the nubra off herself. In its place she now wore her bra by hand—pressed over her chest with her own arms—and glared at me.
"You're a pervert, aren't you? Admit it."
I responded with a sheepish grin. She'd apparently figured out my patterns.
"Why is it always at moments like this that you go around flashing that little eye-smile. What a fox."
A fox it would be, then. I clamped my teeth onto the nape of her neck. Not biting hard enough to devour, of course—more like nibbling her the way I'd kiss her. I even worked my tongue as if kissing.
"Haaah—♡"
A moan spilled out of her. In answer, I pressed hot breath against her ear.
While I melted her neck and ear, she took hold of my cock and stroked it. It would have stayed plenty hard on its own without anyone's help, but I didn't object to her touch.
I repaid her by rubbing her clit. Three minutes of that foreplay. Time to move on to the main event.
The condoms motels stock as complimentary amenities are disgustingly thick, like sausage casings—so I hated them. I pulled out the ultra-thin Japanese condoms I'd brought along in my bag.
Truthfully, from the very first day I set foot in the meetup, I'd been keeping the possibility of tonight's proceedings in mind.
Before her arousal could cool, I hurriedly rolled the condom on. With practiced hands.
Meanwhile, Chae-rin lay with the blanket pulled completely over her face, legs spread in an M. Her mind was embarrassed, but her lower half was honest, apparently.
I gently rubbed the tip of my glans against the entrance of her pussy. The feel of that moist flesh was so stimulating it was almost like wearing no condom at all.
Thank goodness I'd packed the ultra-thins. Japanese condoms really are supreme. Along with anti-Japanese sentiment, the tip of my cock was melting into pure bliss.
That said, this particular item did have its clear flaws—and those flaws could be summed up in exactly two points.
First, it tore easily in the middle of the act; and second, it felt so close to a bare cock that you couldn't even notice when it had torn.
From that night's festivities onward, there has not been a single day—right up to now—that I haven't cursed that condom manufacturer.
Because the head of twenty-nine-year-old Han Yu-jae was filled with nothing but thoughts of savoring every kind of woman out there.
Because he had not the slightest intention of getting married and starting a family.