Before Joining - 2
By the time I got back to the office, my teammates were already swarming me with questions about who the beauty I'd just met was. I fobbed them off with a vague story—she was a junior employee who worked nearby, and we'd run into each other by chance.
The afternoon went much the same way, centered on winding down my work. Mostly I talked with my team lead about how to hand over my duties. At one point he asked what sort of work I'd be doing at BD Group, but all I could tell him was that I had no idea.
The second quitting time arrived, I was out the door, enduring a coworker's remark that I was already perfecting the art of the sharp exit. I hurried home and dug the phone BD Group had given me out from under the covers where I'd buried it.
When I opened BD-Link and checked my messages, Dana had been telling the truth: missed calls and a whole stack of texts were waiting.
I wrote back right away.
Ding~
I'd barely started changing clothes after sending it when the alert chimed. I left the buttons of the plaid shirt I'd been undoing half-open and grabbed the phone. It was Dana's reply.
To those three messages arriving one after another, I replied just as fast.
Certain the conversation had run its course, I set the phone down and reached for my shirt again—and the notification chime rang out once more.
Ding~What now?
I left the fully unbuttoned shirt hanging open and picked the phone up.
After that last message came a sticker of a puppy burrowed under a blanket, fast asleep. I couldn't quite work out what it was supposed to mean, but after a moment's thought I decided it probably didn't mean anything at all.
I finished shrugging off the shirt, then stripped off my pants and underwear as well and went into the bathroom to wash.
Clean again, I pulled on the cropped, elastic-waist sweats I used for pajamas. I solved dinner with something quick and simple, then sat down on the floor with the BD Group phone in one hand and my old one in the other.
For the data transfer I'd meant to get to yesterday, I fished the phone box out of the BD shopping bag, found the connector and cable, and linked the two phones together. I reviewed the data, picked what to move over, and hit Start. Leaving the phone to churn through the transfer, I turned on my computer.
Come to think of it, aside from the nights I'd come home drunk and blacked out, yesterday was the first time I could remember not switching on my computer after getting home. Even the games that were usually so entertaining felt flat. The photos of Dana I'd seen yesterday kept replaying themselves in my head.
When is this thing going to finish?Is Dana home yet?I want to see her again...
From the moment the transfer hit 95 percent, I abandoned the game and did nothing but stare at the phone. The instant it reached 100, without even checking what had copied over, I opened BD-Link.
I pulled up Ms. Dana on the Palm, but the light on her 'Home' icon was dark. So I went back to yesterday's wardrobe menu and started browsing the lingerie try-on shots all over again. Somewhere in the middle of that, my eye snagged on the black panties lying on my low table.
Gulp.
I swallowed for no reason, reached out, and picked them up. Then I turned around and leaned back, propping my upper body on the bedding.
Dana's small black thong. In all the time since I'd graduated and started living alone in Seoul, a woman's belongings had never once sat in my apartment—and of all things, it had to be panties like these. Holding it, this dreamlike situation finally registered as real.
I carefully unfolded the bunched-up fabric, savoring the softness of a woman's underwear for the first time in my life. The center panel wouldn't quite smooth flat, though; it stayed faintly creased where Dana's pussy had pressed against it, her dried juices stiffening the cloth.
After staring at that spot for a while, my left hand slipped into my pants. I laid the panties from my right hand over my nose and drew a deep breath—fabric softener, and underneath it something faintly musky. I shoved my pants down and freed my cock, already swollen to its limit.
Phone back in my right hand, I found the try-on shot in Dana's wardrobe of a black pair much like the one I was holding, zoomed in on the screen, and started working my shaft with my left.
"Haah~ Hah! Hngh~!"
Just as I closed in on the edge, a notification popped up. I switched back to the full screen and saw a red light burning on the 'Home' icon. For one instant it felt like being caught in the act, and my stroking hand went still.
My cock, ready to burst a heartbeat ago, wilted just as fast. I swept the panties off my face and tapped the 'Home' icon. The feed changed, and there was Dana stepping into her living room, slipping off her heels.
Still in her gray suit, Dana dropped the little bag from her shoulder onto the sofa as though tossing it aside, then headed for the dressing room.
Her apartment had two rooms: one served as the bedroom, the other as a walk-in closet. The moment Dana stepped into the closet, the feed switched to that room's camera. Apparently it even had motion detection.
Inside, she stripped off her suit jacket and skirt without ceremony, hung them up, and peeled down her stockings. Unlike on interview day, these were coffee-colored pantyhose. The panties beneath them were white lace.
She tucked the rolled hose into the cylindrical laundry hamper and began unbuttoning her white blouse. Watching a career woman's strip show I'd never planned on, I felt the strength flooding back into my cock. I tapped the screen to adjust the camera angle and zoomed in.
Dana, head bowed over the tiny buttons, suddenly lifted her face and looked straight into the camera.
The moment my eyes met hers on the screen, my left hand froze too. She smiled at the lens. Then she spread the blouse wide. I watched it slide out of her fingers, achingly slow, until my attention fixed entirely on the white bra underneath.
As far as I knew, most office women wore a slip under their blouses to keep their lingerie from showing, but Dana wasn't wearing one. Her breasts, gathered high and pressed deep inside white lace, and the valley they made between them, wouldn't let my eyes go.
Her file had told me she was a D cup, but seeing her like this, she looked even bigger. My stalled left hand started moving again.
The blouse joined the hose in the hamper, and still glancing often at the camera, she reached behind her back and unhooked the bra with practiced ease. It fell away, and Dana's bare breasts sprang free.
They were firm and springy, with areolae of just the right size and nipples tipped slightly up and outward. I'd seen all of it already in the try-on shots and the body-measurement photos, of course, but this feeling of peeping into her everyday life was a different animal entirely.
Wearing nothing but her panties, Dana left the closet for the bathroom. She pulled a shower cap over her hair and took care of her teeth and her face at the sink first.
She spent far longer on it than I ever would have, but I wasn't watching her wash. I was watching her breasts swing with every movement she made.
When she finished, she stripped off her panties too, tossed them out of the stall, and stepped into the shower. There was a camera in the shower stall as well, but the moment the strong spray came on, the lens fogged and the picture went hazy.
I cycled through the cameras, hunting for whichever angle came through clearest, and kept watching her shower.
My eyes, glazed over as I idly kneaded my cock with my left hand, went wide again. The showerhead, which had been rinsing the lather from her body, had come to rest between Dana's legs.
And then I saw her mouth fall open. I scrambled for my earphones, plugged them in, and cranked the volume. The instant I did, the sound I'd been hoping for threaded through the rush of the water.
Shaaaaaaa~
"Ahhn~ Ahh, ahhn~"
There was no mistaking it: she was masturbating. Not some actress in a porn clip—I was watching a woman I actually knew get herself off.
Her back pressed to the wall, Dana kept her right hand where it was, holding the showerhead, and brought her left down between her legs. With her body turned sideways against the tile I couldn't see her straight on, but the sounds alone were more than enough to set me on fire.
"Ahhn~ Ahh~ Yes~ Ah~ Hngh~"
Hidden behind the firm, neither slender nor heavy columns of her thighs, I could still tell her fingers were sinking deeper and deeper inside her.
"Ahh~ Ah! Right there. Ahhn. Nnh, yes~ Right there, yes~"
Listening to Dana moan, my left hand sped up to match her.
"Ahh~ Ah. Ahhn. Yes~~ Hnn~~ Haah. I'm coming~~ Yes~ Ahhh~"
Splash, splash, splash.
When it felt like Dana was tipping over the edge, my own release came rushing up on me. I set the phone down on the floor, tore off a fistful of toilet paper from the roll beside me, and wrapped it around my cockhead.
"Hah! Haah~... Ah..."
"Hngh~ Ahhhhn~~~ Ahh~! Ahh~"
And like that, we came together. Feeling the wad of paper soak through with everything my cock spilled into it, I lay back with my head tipped up, wrung out.
Then, through the earphones, came the sound of a second stream striking the shower floor—one that hadn't come from the showerhead.
With the tissue still wrapped around me, I picked the phone back up and looked at the screen.
Hissssssss~
On the screen, a stream with a faint yellow tint was unmistakably flowing out from between Dana's legs and spattering to the floor.
So women pee in the shower too.
I had no idea whether that was normal for them or something the masturbation had wrung out of her, but either way, I had now watched a woman strip, shower, get herself off, and then relieve herself, all in one sitting.
Am I turning into a pervert? Or have I been one all along and just been holding it in...?
With my release spent, the post-nut haze rolled in, and a faint helplessness with it. I sat up, set the phone and Dana's panties back on the low table, balled up the tissue and threw it in the trash, then pulled a wet wipe from the pack and cleaned the mess of paper and semen off my cock.
The days after that all ran together. At the office it was wrapping up my work and handing it over; in between, I answered Dana's messages checking in on me; after work, I spent my evenings watching the feeds from her apartment.
Every night after work, Dana masturbated at least once. Her drawers held an assortment of rotors and dildos. She usually did it in the living room, and whether her building had excellent soundproofing or she simply didn't care, she moaned at full volume. Thanks to that, it felt like I had a private one-on-one adult cam room all to myself.
And just like that, it was Friday. I came in and formatted the work PC I'd been using. Anything the company needed was already backed up on the company servers, so there was no reason to leave it behind. Once I'd turned in the wiped PC and the rest of my company equipment, my desk looked hollow. I'd brought most of my personal things home in advance, so the spot felt empty already, like I'd never sat there at all.
In the afternoon I walked to the bank nearby, closed out my retirement pension, and transferred it all to my personal account. The teller mentioned I could have kept the account running through a job change, but thinking about what I'd heard at that interview, I couldn't see the point of holding onto it.
I'd joined my current company in the last semester of college on a senior's recommendation—seven years by the calendar, a little over five years and five months of actual service. The severance that landed in my account felt small next to all that time: a little over 1,500 hwan, which together with what I already had left just under 2,000 hwan sitting there.
Back at the office I said my goodbyes once more to the people I was close with, then left work and headed with my teammates to a barbecue joint near the office. It was a butcher-shop-style place that sold hanwoo beef at a surprisingly gentle price. Gentle for hanwoo, anyway—and with my severance already in hand, I ordered with real confidence.
The teammates loved it, joking that I was already spending like a big-company man. After the barbecue came round two at a beer hall and round three at an izakaya before I finally made it home. My team lead carried on about going for one more round, but the senior I was closest to stuffed me into a taxi, and that was how the night ended.
As the guest of honor I'd absorbed every toast aimed my way, and I came through my front door blind drunk, collapsed where I stood, and was asleep before I knew it.