The Witches' Hour (41)
I hung up the phone and lit a cigarette. Then I called Jo Sujeong. This time she answered. She had seen my text, she said, but work had kept her from replying right away. Just the sound of her voice made the apology feel genuine. When I asked whether she had gone into the office again today, she hesitated before answering yes. A sigh escaped me before I could catch it. It stung that she would tell such an obvious lie—one Suyeon could expose in a heartbeat—but I kept my mouth shut and didn’t press her any further. I simply told her it would be hard to find time before the holidays, suggested we meet at my in-laws’ during the break, and ended the call.
After my shower I began applying my makeup with deliberate care. This was preparation to become the Mistress of Candy and Jade. The whole afternoon had felt like one long wrestling match with my phone, my mind tangled in a dozen different worries. I was glad, then, for the chance to finally release that tension. Ever since the last time Jeongsook had buried her face between my legs at the office and worked her tongue with such devoted skill, the act had taken on an even stronger hold over me. It was faintly embarrassing to admit, yet once tasted, the pleasure was undeniably addictive—almost impossible to shake.
When I had finished the strong, icy makeup that suited a proper Mistress and was ready to leave, the phone rang. It was the private investigator. He had located the workplace of the person he was tracking. As expected, it was Gukhwa. The confirmation brought more bitterness than satisfaction. I decided I would take that disappointment out on Candy and Jade; they would feel the sting of it soon enough.
We held the first photo shoot for the print advertisement. Both Changhee and Hong Nabi possessed considerable makeup skills, but nothing replaced a professional’s touch. The cosmetics required for advertising photography were on another level entirely. When my wife emerged fully dressed and made up for the camera, she looked so transformed that even I—who had lived beside her for years—felt momentarily stunned.
She moved through pose after pose while we shot more than a hundred frames. Then she changed her makeup and outfit, and we repeated the process. After lunch we did it twice more. From seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, minus a brief meal, we scarcely paused. Suyeon suggested a rich, nutritious dinner to revive the two exhausted models. It was not an offer to refuse.
We ate a lavish meal and drank just enough at a charming pavilion in the courtyard of a well-known barbecue restaurant Suyeon had chosen. Afterward, just as we had the last time, we moved on to Six Nine.
Surprisingly, President Nam Jaa was already there. She had received several of the candidate shots, reviewed them, and given her approval. She praised both models for their hard work and presented them with gifts—delicate brooches set with rare, faintly bluish gemstones. She told them the stones would only grow more beautiful with time, and the pieces truly looked worthy of the claim.
“Mom, the two of us worked hard too. Don’t we get presents?”
“Of course you do. But yours will come after the first ad runs and we see the reaction, hehe…”
“Wow, that’s so cheap. One thing at a time, Mom. We’re shooting again the day after tomorrow, you know.”
“Exactly. We need to get two ads out before the holiday, so everything’s rushed. That’s why I hurried to approve the first one today. If I’m moving this quickly to accommodate your wishes, shouldn’t you be the one giving your mother a gift instead?”
I laughed as mother and daughter glared at each other in perfect unison. The exchange was so cute I found myself thinking once again how very much like real sisters they seemed.
“President Kim, I heard you dated her a little back in the day?”
“Ah, yes… just a bit, during college…”
Our previous meeting had already revealed that Suyeon and I had been friends for a long time and that she had known I was a lesbian, but we had never mentioned that we ourselves had once been a couple. The sudden reference left me more than a little flustered.
“I’m not trying to dig up the past. I’m simply surprised that someone with such a difficult personality managed to date at all.”
“Mom! What are you saying? Did you come here just to embarrass your own daughter?”
Suyeon bounced on her toes, playfully pounding her mother’s shoulder. She looked every inch a spoiled child. In two days she would turn thirty, yet in front of the mother she felt safe with, she could not help reverting to a little girl. Watching them, I realized I had never acted that way with my own mother. Maybe this Chuseok I would try. She might push me away for doing something so out of character, but…
Thanks to President Nam’s swift decisions, the work moved quickly. Two advertisements appeared in newspapers and online before the Chuseok holiday. Internal surveys suggested the early response was favorable, though it was still too soon for a final verdict. Detailed figures would come after the break, and only then would we decide whether to proceed with a television commercial. The thought alone already had me on edge.
“Relax your shoulders, kid. Tension won’t solve anything—you know that. This is a game of pure luck and money. Even if the product isn’t the best, a good model or a big enough budget can carry it. When it works, it explodes. Haha… you already think the same, don’t you?”
Of course I did. How many products had become hits on the strength of a single campaign? That was precisely why I was so nervous. Zaya might have invested only a token amount, but I had gambled nearly half my company’s annual revenue. No matter how fresh the idea of using Changhee and Hong Nabi as models seemed, if consumers didn’t respond, we could be crippled by cash-flow problems for months. Suyeon’s breezy reassurances simply slid past me.
“Instead of stewing, why don’t you play with me today? Let’s burn off some stress and remind ourselves what our friendship feels like, hehe…”
At first I didn’t quite understand what she meant, but years in business had sharpened my instincts. One look at her eyes told me enough. I let her lead me to a club called Sappho.
On the way she gave me the basics. It was a secret club for lesbians only. Non-members were refused entry unless accompanied by a member. Men were barred completely. Even transgender guests who still possessed male anatomy were not allowed. The club did employ cross-dressing male servers who looked convincingly female, but they existed solely for the pleasure of the female clientele—some of whom enjoyed that particular game. All the beautiful employees, whether cis or cross-dressed, wore nothing but a single sheer negligee. That translucent garment was how one could tell them apart.
As we had arranged earlier, Suyeon and I were shown to a couples’ massage room for an oil treatment. The space looked far more like a luxury hotel suite than a treatment parlor. We undressed slowly, trading playful jokes about each other’s bodies, then showered together in the adjacent couples’ stall. When we emerged, cocktails were waiting. We sipped them while listening to descriptions of the club’s many services. I don’t know when it opened, but it was apparently famous among those with money; whatever you desired could be had here.
Suddenly I thought of Broken, where Lucy and Penny worked. That place catered mostly to women as well, yet the crucial difference was that Sappho was exclusively female.
A short while later the masseuses entered, also wearing only negligees. We soon surrendered to their skilled hands. Suyeon, who had been chattering nonstop, gradually fell quiet, offering only soft moans now and then. I did the same. About ten minutes in, I felt my body begin to burn in a strange, rising heat. At first I assumed the masseuse’s delicate touch had simply aroused my erogenous zones. But the sensation was different somehow—my mind stayed clear while my body grew feverish and buoyant, as though floating. That was when I realized the cocktails were to blame.
“What kind of place is this exactly? A hangout for addicts?”
I sat up abruptly, pulling away from the masseuse’s hands, and hissed at Suyeon. She stopped her own massage and sat up as well. Her full breasts gleamed under the low lights.
“Why would you say something so rude? It’s only a mild fatigue-recovery agent. People always think it’s a drug the first time they feel that floating sensation, hehe… Would I ever steer you toward anything harmful? Just trust me and enjoy the rest of the service. You won’t regret it.”
I lay down again. The massage resumed. I closed my eyes and let the fragrant oils and silken hands carry me away. It felt as though I had shed my heavy flesh and my soul was soaring free. I wondered whether astral projection felt anything like this.