The Need for Education
A group of customers arrived, and I herded them one by one into empty rooms before heading for the girls' waiting room.
I spotted Kkotnim stepping out of Room 1.
It sat midway down the corridor leading from the waiting room to the hallway entrance—the room closest to those bitches' lounge.
But the fucking bitch still shouldn't have been done with her room yet.
That fucking bitch is wearing a ballet outfit as her floor clothes.
The top was a tight pink number that clung like leggings, and the bottom was a flimsy little skirt so short her panties showed. Calling it a skirt was generous—it looked more like she'd just draped a scrap of rag over herself.
Under that rag of a skirt, Kkotnim's elegant, sleek long legs were on full display.
No matter how many times I saw her, she was a delicious-looking bitch.
She was the textbook definition of a slender beauty—narrow waist, slim legs, and an ass that stuck out just enough to look perfect.
I licked my lips and followed her into the girls' waiting room.
The fucking bitch had definitely sensed someone coming and recognized me, but she crawled out of Room 1 without so much as glancing my way and headed straight for the waiting room.
Kkotnim seemed to have come for something; she went in and opened the fridge. Probably grabbing a drink or a cold towel.
More important right now was giving the girls their calls. No matter how tasty she looked, this wasn't the time to get distracted.
I'd only come in person instead of calling from the counter phone because it was faster to just walk over and bark the orders myself.
"Pureum, Room 3. Mi-ho, Room 6. Dambi, Room 8."
"Yes~"
"Yes~"
"Yeah~"
Everyone answered politely—except that fucking bitch Dambi, who talked back in casual speech.
The second my pole recovered its strength, I was going to plow that cocky cunt of hers and teach her some goddamn manners.
And there she was, sprawled out in a red dress, thighs and panties pointed straight at me like she was putting on a show.
I got that she couldn't throw on sweatpants like usual because it was the weekend and there was barely any downtime, but the bitch had been all cautious about walking in together after getting out of the taxi this morning. She ought to know better and watch herself.
Luckily the other bitches beside her didn't seem to notice—or care. Dambi probably wasn't doing it on purpose either; she'd just happened to leave her thighs and panties exposed in my direction.
"Oppa~ Don't I have any reservations~?"
A familiar voice pulled my head around. In the corner, Eun-ha was sprawled out like a starfish, phone in hand, her massive milkers looking ready to burst right through her clothes and her thick, soft thighs on full display.
She had on a relatively loose shirt, but those jugs were so huge they still jutted up even while she was lying down. This bitch seemed to favor denim short-shorts.
A truly ideal posture.
"Guest's coming in ten minutes. Rest a bit."
"Yes~ Oppa~ Heehee."
The dog of a bitch lifted her head from the floor, looked up at me, and flashed a grin full of mischief.
Ah, fuck, why did these bitches look so goddamn delicious today of all days?
I had a fierce urge to charge into the waiting room right then, trip Kkotnim with my leg and knock her flat, rip Eun-ha's denim shorts clean off, hike up Dambi's dress, and go five-on-one with Pureum thrown in for good measure.
Wait, fuck, who was the fifth? Ah, Mi-ho. Right. Fucking hell.
She had so little presence I'd completely forgotten her.
Yeah—I'd told her at the company dinner to hang in there when she was feeling like shit, so I'd plow her cunt too. Join the party, you twin bitch.
The next wave of customers was about to hit, so I spun on my heel and headed back to the counter fast.
I was about to pass through the door from the hallway when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
But I was busy right now.
Only after midnight did a little breathing room open up. Dongpal hyungnim handed off the remaining work and bailed.
In the end, the Big Boss never showed.
I checked the reservation memo and ledger. In thirty minutes we had a group of four booked, including one jimyeong for Kkotnim.
Dambi... Pureum... Mi-ho... they'll have to go in. Kkotnim's a jimyeong.
After about three weeks of grinding, a little free time had started to appear. Before that, Jeonghun had handled everything; now I was gradually taking on more of the load.
The most critical part—answering reservation calls and managing the schedule—was still all Jeonghun. Everything else was mine: stuffing water-drop customers into empty rooms or guiding them to the waiting lounge, loading finished customers into the elevator and getting them gone, checking rooms after customers left, walking to the waiting room or calling from the counter phone to give the girls their calls, and hitting the intercom for first and second calls when service time was up.
I'd always thought Jeonghun's job looked easy as hell, pure gravy. Then I tried taking a few reservations alone on a Sunday and realized it was anything but.
You had to map out the whole day's plan so the girls didn't throw fits, make sure that at closing you handed out the non-jimyeong counts in strict order of who clocked in first, read the customers' tastes so you spread the girls around evenly, and still maximize the shop's total sessions. It was a heavy fucking responsibility.
Even booking one or two cunts on a Sunday made my head hurt. That bastard Jeonghun was calmly handling seven or eight of them on a weekend like it was nothing.
I pictured myself someday grabbing that shop phone, kicking back in the counter chair with one leg propped on the desk, smoking, and handling everything with total ease.
While I was lost in thought, the sound of a door opening came from the hallway.
I glanced at the CCTV. Eun-ha was walking out after finishing her room, arm linked affectionately with the customer.
I hustled into the corridor.
"Oppa~ Bye~"
"Yeah~ I'll come again~"
Judging by the customer's face, he was pretty damn satisfied—grin stretched ear to ear.
The training was paying off. Eun-ha had more or less figured out how to wreck a guy properly now.
"This way, sir."
I hit the elevator button, loaded him in, and sent him on his way.
I was heading back to the counter when I saw Eun-ha standing at the hallway entrance, staring at me.
Early summer meant the girls' floor clothes looked extremely cool and breezy. Sleeveless was standard now, and the bottoms were short skirts, dresses, or short-shorts that left their thighs completely bare.
This bitch seemed to be wearing a skirt—some unusual style that looked like something you'd wear at a swimming pool. I'd have to look it up later.
Kkotnim had been wearing something similar, after all.
She looked like she had something to say, so I walked over.
"What?"
"Aren't you checking your messages, oppa?"
I remembered texting her after the call with Seong-uk hyungnim, asking where she'd learned that stuff.
The fucking bitch must have replied.
But it was the weekend and she could see with her own goddamn eyes how hard I was grinding, you twin bitch.
"Must've missed it 'cause I was busy. Got a little time till the next reservation, so I'll check."
"Yes~"
Eun-ha flashed that mischievous smile again and disappeared into the waiting room, soft thighs still on display.
What the fuck did that bitch eat? Keeps grinning like an idiot. Creepy as hell.
Come to think of it, after I'd taught her how to wreck guys with those milkers and she'd used it on a customer, she'd said she got a tip and would buy me something tasty. Still no word.
She better not be wiping her mouth clean and trying to ghost me, that fucking bitch.
I don't need food. The tastiest thing is your cunt, you bitch.
I went back to the counter, dropped into the mesh chair the Big Boss had bought me, and quietly lit a cigarette.
Come to think of it, this was the first time I'd sat in the chair today.
Four hours of running around until the soles of my feet were on fire, giving calls, and dealing with all kinds of bullshit had left me exhausted as hell.
If I was being honest, it wasn't just today's grind. The aftereffects of pounding Dambi six times over three and a half hours that morning were still hanging in my body.
I unlocked my phone and shot Dambi a text.
Dambi was still in her room. Time for the first call soon.
If she came out in ten minutes at the latest, and the group was thirty minutes from now, minus ten minutes for the customer's shower, that left her about thirty minutes.
She'd burned through just as much stamina as I had, riding me cowgirl and grinding away. This much consideration felt right.
I stood, glanced at the ledger and the clock, then picked up the intercom connected to the customer rooms and pressed 5.
Dambi was working Room 5. Exactly thirty minutes since she'd gone in to suck dick.
If she still wasn't out in ten more minutes, I'd hit her with the second call.
One thing I'd learned since coming to Eden: from the perspective of a guy who goes out to drop water, you should never set foot in a parlor between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. on a weekend night.
When there was breathing room after a booking like now, the most important thirty minutes of a girl's service time got respected. But when the schedule was packed tight or there were already bastards waiting in the lounge, we'd pull the first call at the twenty-five-minute mark and the second at thirty—straight-up time fuckery.
They called it the fifty-minute rule, but ten minutes of shower time on each end—twenty total—went to the customer alone. The actual burning body conversation between girl and customer was only thirty minutes.
That was already short, and during peak weekend hours they'd shave off another five or ten, so the value just didn't add up.
Sure, getting fully naked and rubbing bodies for thirty minutes for seventy thousand won might feel like a lot or a little depending on the person. But after grinding at Eden and seeing what a girl who only takes home 1.2 million a month goes through, it was completely unacceptable.
They got ten thousand a day in daily pay, sure, but even adding that up it still didn't hit 1.5 million.
That was why I finally understood why Kkotnim always walked in and immediately locked down full jimyeong.
Whether it was weekend peak or not, once she entered a room she always spent at least forty minutes with the customer. Sometimes she wouldn't come out for a full fifty.
Subtract the twenty minutes of shower time front and back and that was an hour and ten minutes total.
In that same window the other cunt bitches could easily knock out two sessions.
I was starting to want to sample Kkotnim's service myself.
Thinking about it pissed me off. Fucking hell.
I still hadn't even managed a proper conversation with her, let alone created a chance to fuck her.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Then it buzzed again right after.
Ah fuck, who is it? Dambi still hasn't come out.
I unlocked it and saw texts from Eun-ha.
Was that dog of a bitch's cunt itching? Like I'd reply that fast—why the hell was she so impatient, fucking bitch?
I opened the chat to see what bullshit she was spouting.
Knock knock? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
Looking at the timestamps, the message about her friend telling her had come a while ago.
Ah—so her cunt had started itching because I left her on read.
The same bitch who used to leave me hanging forever whenever I texted was now throwing a fit because I was the one ignoring her.
I was seriously curious which fucking bitch had taught Eun-ha that crap.
Any friend of a dick-sucking girl was never going to be normal.
The moment I sent it, the "1" disappeared.
I wasn't sure the fucking bitch actually understood.
The twin bitch seemed to be getting it now, but something still felt off.
Ah, fucking hell, this bitch didn't know a single thing. Dog of a bitch.
Truth was, daettal-bang weren't exactly places normal guys went either. I was an omnivore—I fucked and I got handjobs—but most guys preferred the real thing.
Still, there were bastards who only ever hit handjob parlors.
Eden was the kind of place those bastards mainly came to.
Of course there were also customers who came because some girls would give up the cunt if you booked enough jimyeong and asked nicely.
While I was still looking at the phone, it buzzed and an alert with Eun-ha's name popped up—but it wasn't the chat window I was already in with her.
I tapped the alert and a new chat window opened.
I opened the new chat window. Some bastard—couldn't tell if it was a dick or a cunt—had sent a message.
Looked like a group chat.
That was probably the bastard who'd taught Eun-ha the footjob.
Worse than the fact that Hyojin was the one who'd taught Eun-ha the footjob was the fact that the twin bitch was talking to me in casual speech right now.