Gumiho, Park Ah-young, Han Ju-young
After a rare early clock-out, I drove over to the June campus, which was brimming with freshness. Watching the vibrant twenty-somethings strolling across the grounds left me with a faint regret—maybe I should have stayed on for a master’s or doctorate and never left university at all.
I was still only thirty-two, treated almost like the youngest at the company, and society kept insisting that today’s thirties were no different from the twenties of the past. Most people my age probably felt the same. Whatever the outside world said, my twenties were over; middle age was creeping closer than youth, bringing with it a vague desolation. The melancholy of having reached the point where you talk about reality instead of dreams.
In a way, running into Miho again by chance in the middle of these thirties of mine might have been something to be grateful for—if only because it let me feel and savor what it was like to be twenty once more.
I parked in front of the Airline College building and sent her a KakaoTalk saying I’d arrived. I’d expected the place to be all women, but there were surprisingly many male students as well. Because the major was so tightly linked to employment, a lot of them wore something close to uniforms—unlike any other campus I’d seen.
Chin resting on the steering wheel, I drifted into memories of my own college days and waited blankly for a few minutes. Then Miho appeared at the central entrance. Even with the mask on I knew her at a glance. Two other young women were walking out beside her. Ah-young and Ju-young, most likely.
The three of them must have had practical training today; they were all in uniform and carrying black handbags. It was the exact outfit I’d seen on Miho’s Instagram and in the bathroom video she’d sent me.
Hair pulled into a sleek updo. A glossy jade-green short-sleeved blouse with a white collar, a white scarf knotted at the throat in imitation of a famous airline. The skirt matched the white of the sleeves and collar and sat a little higher than mid-thigh. The shoes were coordinated too—elegant heels about five centimeters high with a slightly thick heel.
They looked a touch cheaper than real flight-attendant uniforms, yet on twenty-two-year-old bodies they were every bit as alluring. Whether the girls had taken the uniforms in or simply filled them out that well, the fabric clung tighter to them than to any of the other students around.
Miho spotted my car and waved. She said something to the two beside her; all three burst into peals of laughter. Then they started walking toward me together.
Watching the lines of their bodies as they approached was a pleasure all its own.
All three had full chests, and the snug blouses made the contours unmistakable. Every time they stepped forward, the movement of hips and thighs inside those tight H-line skirts seemed almost visible. The woman on Miho’s right had especially pronounced hips. That one had to be Ju-young.
I still didn’t know why all three were coming, but I slipped on my mask and stepped out of the car.
“Oppa!”
The moment I got out, Miho waved happily. I shut the driver’s door and gave her a small wave back. They were masked too, so their eyes stood out; I could feel them looking me up and down.
“Oh~~ necktie today!”
“Came straight from work…”
“Hello.”
“Hello. Nice to see you again.”
The two women beside Miho greeted me. They were giggling so openly it was obvious something amused them. I returned a light nod of courtesy.
“These are my friends Ah-young and Ju-young. This is Park Ah-young, and this is Han Ju-young.”
Miho introduced them properly. Just as I’d guessed, the one with the round, surgically opened eyes was Park Ah-young; the more voluptuous one was Han Ju-young.
“Ah, yes—hello. Nice to meet you.”
“Yes, hello, uncle. Heeheehee!”
When Ah-young called me “uncle,” the three of them dissolved into laughter again. It didn’t really bother me, but hearing the word still left a faintly bitter aftertaste.
“This is the second time we’ve met.”
Ju-young linked arms with Ah-young and twisted her body while she laughed.
“Ah… is that so? Sorry, I don’t remember well…”
“The day Oppa met me downtown, these were the girls who were with me.”
“Ah! So that’s it.”
“Oppa, hurry up! I’m going. See you tomorrow.”
She waved to Ah-young and Ju-young and dashed for the passenger seat. I gave the two a brief nod and opened the driver’s door.
“Yeah, take care. See you tomorrow. See you next time.”
“Have a reeeally good time today. Hehehe.”
Ah-young drew the words out with deliberate meaning. As I was climbing in, our eyes met for a second. She tilted her chin up just enough that Miho and Ju-young wouldn’t notice and shot me a look. The mask hid her mouth, yet I had the distinct impression she was licking her lips. The thought made me smile back at her. She couldn’t have seen it through my mask either, but she would have felt my cheekbones lift and the fabric shift.
“So?”
Once the car pulled away and left Ah-young and Ju-young behind, Miho asked out of nowhere.
“So what?”
“Ah-young and Ju-young.”
“Haha, they’re wearing masks—how am I supposed to tell? They looked close.”
“Nooo. Not that! Compared to me, how are they?”
“They’re wearing masks, so I can’t tell.”
She seemed unhappy with the answer and stared straight out the windshield.
“Say exactly what you mean.”
“……Who looks prettier! Ugh… Oppa’s such a sly fox! Do I really have to spell it out?”
“Hahahaha. That was it?”
Miho’s jealousy toward them ran deeper than I’d expected. She always seemed to measure herself against them, determined to prove she was superior somehow.
“Hmm… well, with the masks on I honestly can’t judge faces… From your Instagram before, Ah-young? She looks like she went a bit overboard with the surgery… Ju-young? Her face seemed pretty round.”
That answer clearly pleased her; her expression lit up and she turned fully toward me again.
“Right? I’m a little better, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you’re much better.”
“Heehee! Even if it’s just flattery because I poked you in the side, it still feels good.”
“But aren’t they friends? I’m sensing rivalry.”
“Oppa doesn’t know women.”
“Hahaha. Me? Women? Hahaha.”
“Not sex! You don’t know the quiet little pride wars women fight among themselves.”
Miho launched into a full stream of details.
“Ah-young had a ton of work done. Eyes—double lids, inner corners, outer corners, everything—nose raised, lips too… Her chest is implants as well. Family’s loaded, so her mom started the surgeries in high school. What’s really annoying is that once she got to college and kept going under the knife, she started aiming for a face like mine. Then she goes around saying we look alike… So irritating! And Ju-young—honestly she just looks chubby to me. But she always insists she isn’t fat. Claims men go crazy the second they see her body… Tch! Yesterday after she hung up with Oppa she started comparing bodies with me… That made me lose even more affection. From yesterday on, she’s out.”
“Hahaha. You’ve been storing that up, huh? So why still hang out?”
“Well… at this point it’s not like I can suddenly get close to other girls… And it is fun when we’re together.”
“Women’s relationships really are complicated.”
“Times like this, men have it easy.”
She wasn’t wrong. Men’s friendships tended to be straightforward—either you were close or you weren’t. Women’s could look intimate on the surface while a subtle psychological contest simmered underneath.
Still… if I thought about it carefully, that same psychological contest was what had driven Miho to seduce me in the first place. So maybe it had worked out in my favor.
“All right, all right—don’t get worked up over nothing. We should focus on today, right? You didn’t get to enjoy yourself properly yesterday… Today we do it right, yeah?”
I reached over with the hand that had been on the gearshift and stroked her thigh. At the touch she parted her legs a little.
“How do I look today?”
She asked while her fingertips traced the back of the hand that was caressing her thigh.
“Is this the department uniform? Looks good.”
“Did Oppa call me just because you wanted to see me in the department uniform?”
“Hahaha. Not that… How was I supposed to know you’d be wearing it today?”
“Whenever we have major classes we always wear the department uniform.”
“I see. I didn’t know that.”
The texture of her apricot-colored stockings sent a thrilling tingle across my palm. I kept stroking her thigh, savoring every nylon-smooth sensation. How could something as ordinary as nylon possess such an arousing charm?
“Haa… Stop touching me!”
Excitement was clearly rising; Miho tried to push my hand away. There was no real strength in the gesture, though—she didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Oppaa…… Last time… Oppaa… You mentioned the flight-attendant uniform fetish… Today… shall we try it? Heehee!”
Blood surged straight to my cock.
“Miho… You really… a gumiho is a gumiho. What a good girl!”
She traced her right fingertips around her lips while her left hand casually fondled the front of my pants.
“In return… You know, right? You have to make Oppa feel everything I didn’t get to feel yesterday.”