Junho's Return Visit: The Bra-less Wife and the Hand Beneath the Table
Sunlight from the office window stretched long across the edge of my desk.
I picked up my phone.
The moment my fingers pressed the numbers, a faint vibration from the handset traveled all the way up my forearm.
The ringtone sounded.
My mouth was parched; without thinking I swallowed dry spit.
On the third ring Junho's voice came through.
"This is technician Jin Junho from OO."
"Junho, little brother—it's me, hyung."
His tone shifted at once from professional to warm.
"Ah, hyungnim. Hello. How have you been?"
I leaned back against the chair and looked out the window. Sunlight flashing off the glass of the building opposite dazzled my eyes.
"The thing is, I wanted to talk over the water-purifier installation spot we discussed last time. Also to check whether it can actually be installed."
"So you've decided to go ahead with the purifier."
Over the line came the sound of tools being set down on the floor.
"Are you busy right now?"
"No. I'm in the middle of a repair, but I can spare a moment."
"Could you come by today?"
Junho hesitated.
"My AS schedule is completely full today, so a visit looks difficult."
"I feel bad asking after hearing that, but I was hoping you could drop by around eight tonight."
His answer came without delay.
"Understood. We finish at six, but since it's you, hyungnim, I'll come."
"Thanks, little brother."
"But because it isn't an official visit, the address won't come up in the system. Could you send me the house address separately?"
I ended the call and texted Junho the address.
The moment the message went out I realized my palms were lightly slick with sweat. The same tension and worry, mixed with a thread of anticipation for whatever might happen, still sat side by side inside me.
The office had already grown quiet. Only the occasional clack of keyboards broke the silence. I stayed in my chair, staring out the window. The sun sank slowly beyond the forest of buildings. My face, reflected faintly in the glass, wavered.
Six years ago, that first night I had made Mijeong imagine another man, brushed past my mind. All of it had been pieces stacked slowly, very slowly.
Junho was coming to the house.
Just as I had already told Mijeong, I would have her put on a revealing dress. The instant Junho's gaze locked onto her exposed skin—I pictured the scene. The mere thought made my cock harden. What expression would Mijeong wear under that stare? What would she do? In the end she would be swept along by the atmosphere, accept it, and adapt. For seven years she had always been that way. At first she hesitated; eventually my hand led her forward step by step. It would be the same this time.
Lost in the fantasy, I realized it was time to leave. I pushed the chair back; the wheels scraped the floor with a soft friction sound.
Even in the car on the way home, the look in Junho's eyes from the video kept rising—eyes widening, Adam's apple bobbing. Focusing on the road was hard. More than once I sat through a green light until the car behind blared its horn and I hurriedly lifted my foot from the brake and pressed the accelerator.
Arriving home only heightened the excitement. When I opened the front door, air as warm as my own heat rolled out. Sounds of Mijeong preparing dinner came from the kitchen. I slipped off my shoes and felt the floor's warmth under my soles.
I checked the clock. 7:30. Roughly thirty minutes until Junho arrived.
Mijeong stepped out of the kitchen and looked my way. Her hands were wet; the hem of her T-shirt clung damply to her belly. She was in an ordinary T-shirt and shorts. Our son, who had been eating at the table, abandoned his bowl and ran to me.
"An AS technician is coming at eight."
Mijeong's body stiffened for an instant.
"Feed Doyun dinner and put him to bed."
"Yes."
I went into the master bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. Mijeong followed, her face saying she had something to ask.
"What is it?"
"With the child here, what are you planning to do?"
"I'll just have him look over possible spots for the purifier."
Her expression flickered strangely—disappointment after expectation, or perhaps relief; I couldn't tell which.
"Since he's coming after work, depending how things go we can feed him dinner and then send him off."
"I'll check whether there's enough food."
As she turned toward the living room I caught her from behind. Both hands closed over her breasts.
"You're wearing one."
I spun the silent Mijeong around, slid both hands up under the T-shirt, and unhooked her bra with practiced ease. Then I slipped my fingers through the armholes, caught the straps on her shoulders, and tugged. The straps slid free of her arms; inside the loose T-shirt the bra dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
"Hu...sband."
"Go on."
Mijeong let out a small sigh, picked up the fallen bra, dropped it into the laundry basket, and headed for the living room.
After changing I stepped out. Mijeong was in the bathroom helping the boy brush his teeth. A glance at the clock told me Junho would be here any moment. When the brushing finished, Doyun said good-night to me, took his mother's hand, and disappeared into his room.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
It rang again.
I went to the front door.
The latch clicked open. Junho stood there—jeans, checked shirt, blue service vest over one shoulder, tool bag exactly as before.
"Hello."
"Come in. Sorry for calling you so late."
"Not at all."
Junho gave a slight bow. His hand tightened on the tool-bag strap. I opened the door wide.
"Then I'll come in."
He stepped inside and set the bag down beside the entrance.
"I'll show you the kitchen. Take a look and see if installation is possible."
I led the way; Junho followed. Beside the sink I pointed to a clear stretch of counter.
"I was thinking somewhere around here. What do you think?"
Junho nodded and surveyed the kitchen. He tapped the countertop lightly, then looked at me. The soft sound hung in the air.
"I'll open this up for a second."
"Go ahead."
He opened the lower cabinet doors under the sink and peered inside, checking all the way up to the underside of the counter.
"To run the hose we'll need to drill through the countertop. Luckily there's an outlet right beside it."
"Is that so?"
"Looks like artificial marble."
"Probably. I think that's what they said when we did the interior."
Junho pointed to a spot on the marble.
"We'll cut a hole about this size here."
He bent down, took a small flashlight from his shirt pocket, and shone it into the open cabinet.
"See here? The supply hose will run along this path."
My eyes followed the beam. The light stopped at the shut-off valve under the faucet.
"There's the valve. We'll close it, disconnect the faucet pipe, and join the hose."
I stood with arms folded, head slightly lowered, looking under the sink.
"Installation and setup should take no more than thirty minutes."
"Not long at all, then."
"Right. But because we have to drill artificial marble, I'd recommend doing it in the daytime if possible. There's a bit of noise."
"My wife is home alone during the day, so a daytime install isn't a problem."
I put deliberate weight on the word alone.
"Ah... I don't see the madam."
"She's in the boy's room putting him to sleep right now."
"Then we should keep our voices down."
"It's fine. He's an easy sleeper. She'll be out soon."
I walked to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat.
"I'm still deciding which purifier to get. So many features... recommend a few for me."
"Of course, of course."
Junho retrieved a catalog from the bag by the door and sat opposite me. The crisp rustle of heavy paper filled the kitchen.
"This model has a long filter-replacement cycle and the water tastes excellent."
His finger tapped a photo. I nodded while he talked. Junho launched into an enthusiastic rundown of the strengths and weaknesses of each model.
Then came the soft sound of a bedroom door opening. Through the slowly widening gap Mijeong appeared. The hem of her T-shirt swayed. Because she wore no bra, the soft curves of her breasts showed faintly beneath the cloth. She gave a small tug at the neckline, yet the exact positions of her nipples remained clearly visible through the fabric.
The moment she stepped into view Junho rose.
"Hello, madam."
Mijeong inclined her head slightly.
"Hello."
I pulled another chair; its legs scraped the floor.
"Sit here and listen to the explanation with us."
Mijeong sat. As she settled, her back arched a little; the front of the T-shirt dipped softly. For an instant Junho's gaze seemed to brush across her chest. He must have realized she was bare underneath.
Once she was seated he opened the catalog again and pointed to two models.
"This one is the ice purifier, this one the standard..."
He explained the features of each unit carefully to Mijeong. Her eyes stayed on the pages. Every time she shifted to see better, the T-shirt moved and the contours of her breasts gently appeared beneath the cloth.
After listening she thought for a moment. Sitting at the table, looking down at the open catalog, she crossed her arms tightly under her chest. The pressure lifted her full breasts, making the soft curves stand out. Without a bra the thin fabric clung lightly to her skin; her nipples pressed faintly through the cotton. Unaware, she kept a slight frown, gaze fixed on the page.
"All things considered, the ice purifier seems better."
"Right."
"Self-maintenance is cheaper, so how about that one?"
Junho entered the model into his phone, then looked up.
"The regular unit is fine for self-care, but the ice model can be hard to manage yourself. Is that all right?"
"Then will little brother Junho handle the visit maintenance?"
"Our company combines AS and maintenance, so I'll be the one in charge."
I asked him to take on the regular visits. After that, questions about contract length, card payment, and so on passed back and forth—mostly between Junho and Mijeong. I sat watching the two of them and soon grew bored.
Leaning my left arm on the table, I bent forward and, under the table, laid my right hand on Mijeong's thigh.
She flinched the moment my palm touched her.
Junho, eyes on the contract form glowing on his phone, never noticed.
"Madam, will you set it for automatic card payment?"
"Ah... yes..."
I slowly slid the hand that rested on her thigh. Along the soft flesh, inward. I kneaded the tender inner thigh with light, deliberate pressure. The home shorts she wore were loose; the legs gaped wide. My massaging fingers moved a little deeper.