The One O'Clock Appointment

Even if I was going as a paying customer, the thought of meeting a woman made me take a hard look at myself in the mirror.

A shaggy mess of hair.

Three days of neglected, scruffy stubble.

And on top of that, the gut that had ballooned out ever since I'd started living on my own.

"Yeah… this is pretty bad."

There was a time—rare as it was—when people used to call me handsome. This was something else entirely.

I hadn't looked this rough even yesterday, when I'd met my friends. The beard had just exploded overnight.

I fired up the boiler, got ready to shower, and started shaving.

Whirr—

The electric razor struggled against the overgrown stubble, leaving patchy islands of hair behind. I squinted at every stubborn spot and scraped back and forth until they were gone.

I checked my jawline one more time, stripped down, and stepped into the shower.

I'd heard the women at an OP would wash you themselves, but showing up clean was better for both of us either way.

Once I was done and my skin felt scrubbed raw and fresh, I sat down at my desk. I dabbed on toner and lotion I almost never touched, then even a little of the sunscreen I'd bought ages ago. Somehow it made me feel like I'd actually put in some effort.

I dried my hair with the dryer plugged in beside the computer outlet, rolling the bangs upward from underneath. When I hit the crown, I didn't forget to squeeze and release with my fingers to build some volume.

Then came the main event: wax and spray.

Bangs in a soft comma sweep, just a touch of lift on top, and the sides pressed flat and neat over the ears.

"Something looks off…?"

The style had worked when my face was a little sharper. Now that I'd put on weight, trying the comma bangs for the first time just felt awkward.

I considered washing it out, then decided it was still better than before and got dressed as I was.

For underwear, I went with the forty-thousand-won black boxer briefs I'd once splurged on from Calvin Klein. Long underwear felt like overkill, so I skipped it. Thick jeans, a dark olive crewneck, and a long coat over the top.

Final check in the mirror. At least I looked like a human being now.

The clock read 12:40.

"If I call a taxi now, that should work."

The estimated wait was five minutes. It was December—step outside in nothing but a long coat and no long underwear and you'd freeze solid. No point standing out there shivering. I killed the remaining time indoors, checking the mirror again for anything I'd missed.

After about three minutes I went to pick out shoes. Dress shoes felt like trying too hard, so I went with sneakers—complete with three-centimeter height-boost inserts.

"XX-dong, building XXX-XXX, please."

I climbed into the back seat and gave the driver the address. Ordinarily I preferred the front passenger seat, but today I took the back so I could check the Sex Coin app without anyone looking over my shoulder.

The second I got in I had my phone out, so the driver didn't bother making conversation and just drove.

I'd been checking the app on a spare phone when something caught my eye, so I pulled out my regular one.

The money that had come in before was 1.95 million won—what I'd gotten from selling 10,000 Sex Coins. Back then, the Sex Coin Value listed in my stats had been 195.

Now, after shaving and cleaning myself up, it sat at 198.

No way my physique or penis stats had gone up, which meant my appearance value had climbed…

Damn. I should've showered and shaved before cashing out the coins… I lost thirty thousand won.

I felt a twinge of regret over the thirty grand, but I'd learned something useful. When you withdraw Sex Coins, you want to look your best first—and the more you take care of yourself, the higher the price climbs.

Those appearance-change tickets in the shop were starting to look like a solid investment, too.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I was still turning over Sex Coin strategies in my head when we arrived. I paid nine thousand won, stepped out of the taxi, and the cold air hit me full in the face.

The sun hung straight overhead. Realizing I'd come all the way out here in the middle of the day to visit an OP made my heart start hammering.

Ah—cash!

I realized I didn't have any. And there was no way I was leaving a paper trail with a bank transfer for prostitution.

Luckily, a convenience store sat right next door. I pulled two hundred thousand won from the ATM and called the number I'd spoken with earlier.

"Hi, I called a little while ago. Yes—one o'clock, Gaeul. I'm at the ATM in the convenience store out front, the place you mentioned. Yes. Yes. Oh, you're coming this way? Got it."

Seong Gaeul had taken a leave of absence from university and was working at an OP to cover next semester's tuition.

She'd been using her real name as her working name for six months now. She'd already saved enough for school plus spending money for campus life, and she'd been planning to quit before Christmas. Then the manager called to say a client had booked her starting that afternoon.

Ugh. I really don't want to.

She'd gotten into the work thinking she actually liked sex—but once it became a way to make money, it turned into pure stress.

Booking Seong Gaeul ran about two hundred thousand won. That was a steep price for guys her own age, so most of her clients were men in their forties and fifties. And more than half of them acted like entitled jerks just because they were paying. The ones who showed up at this hour were almost always office workers blowing off morning stress on their lunch break—about ninety percent of them.

She left home early, let herself into the officetel room where she worked, and walked straight into a scene she absolutely despised.

A drying rack stood open with towels hanging from it. The drum washer's door gaped wide. The bedsheet that should have been stretched over the mattress was dumped in a heap beside the bed.

In the bathroom, a used disposable toothbrush and the plastic wrapper it had come in were still lying on the floor.

That was as far as she needed to look. She grabbed her phone and called the manager.

"Oppa! I told you to have everything cleaned before I start work! What is this?!"

"No—there are still towels hanging up and the sheet isn't even on the bed. Am I supposed to do all of that? If that's the job, I should've signed on as a cleaning lady instead of a manager! And why is there a disposable toothbrush rolling around on the bathroom floor?!"

"Bear with it? I already told you—if this happens again, I'm not working that day! Forget it. Put someone else on. I'm done for today."

Hearing him grovel softened her a little. It wasn't really his fault—he didn't clean the place himself; the cleaning ladies did. And he was right: the appointment was almost here. She couldn't just leave a hole in the schedule.

"I'm not doing anyone any favors for your face, oppa. Ugh. Fine. I'll take this one client and then I'm done for the day."

She hung up and started with the most urgent job—stretching the sheet over the mattress. Once the bed was made, she tossed the disposable toothbrush debris from the bathroom into the trash, then began folding the towels on the drying rack.

She was naturally neat and liked things in order, so as she cleaned, her mood gradually settled.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang when she was about halfway through the towels. She stood at the front door, her temper already improved, and locked into client mode. A smile found its way onto her face.

"Yes~ Just a moment~."

She opened the door to find a man she'd never seen before, standing there looking awkward. Around her age, maybe? Not particularly handsome—but he'd clearly put thought into his clothes and even worked some wax into his hair. It was a good look.

Out in the real world he would have been the kind of ordinary guy she wouldn't glance at twice. Among the clients who came through here, though, he easily ranked in the top five percent. Her mood lifted even further.

"Wow~ Come on in~."

I met the man they called the manager on the stairs inside the officetel building.

"Just go up to 303 and ring the bell."

I handed eighteen thousand won to the guy with the flashy tattoos covering both hands. He gave me the room number and walked straight back out of the building.

I climbed the stairs with my heart pounding.

How long has it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been since I last had sex?

I'd had a girlfriend before enlisting, but we'd broken up when I was a private first class, and I'd been solo ever since. After discharge I hadn't exactly been racking up one-night stands either.

Which meant my last time had been that trip to a backwater brothel with one of my juniors. And the woman who'd walked out looked older than my mom—total shock. We'd finished the job, but the whole thing had left a bad taste.

So this OP visit had me especially hopeful.

I reached room 303, pressed the doorbell, and a young woman's voice answered from inside.

"Yes~ Just a moment~."

A second later the door opened, and the world brightened.

She looked exactly like her profile photos—no filters, no editing. The kind of face that would make you turn around on the street. On a college campus, they would have called her a goddess.

"Wow~ Come on in~."

She welcomed me with a radiant smile. I awkwardly kicked off my shoes and stepped inside.

"Excuse me."

The layout was basically a studio apartment—just much larger and more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠polished than the one I lived in. Not far from the front door stood a drying rack with towels hanging on it, and a neat stack of already-folded ones beside it.

Was she folding laundry?

I stood there taking in the room until the goddess beside me linked her arm through mine and guided me forward.

"Let's wash up first."

The soft give of her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breast against my arm nearly short-circuited my brain. It still didn't feel real that we were about to have sex—but the way she was being so casually intimate sent blood rushing straight south.

"Ah—I already showered before I came…"

I was too embarrassed to let her see how hard I already was before anything had even started, so I tried to beg off with the shower excuse. It didn't work.

"I can tell from your hair~ Still, just rinse your body off real quick."

She didn't show a shred of self-consciousness as she started undressing first. A smooth, toned stomach came into view immediately. Above it, two full hills announced themselves inside a black bra trimmed with frills.

She peeled off her skin-tight skinny jeans to reveal matching panties—black with delicate white frills.

Looking at her standing there in nothing but underwear, I thought, Ah, what the hell, and stripped too. There was a hanger nearby, but my coat was cheap junk, so I just dropped it on the floor.

Shirt and pants came off in a clumsy heap, leaving me in nothing but my briefs. Inside them, my thoroughly agitated other half had pitched a full tent.

What embarrassed me was getting hard this early—not the equipment itself. Honestly, I had a decent amount of confidence there. Sixteen centimeters, well above average. The girth was a little underwhelming, but still better than average. The shape was fine. I'd never compared notes with anyone, but I figured the hardness was solid too.

By the time I'd finished undressing, she was already completely naked. The full, inviting breasts that had been hidden in her bra were bare now, pink nipples on display. Below, dark hair was neatly trimmed, and I was desperately curious about what lay further in—but I didn't have the nerve to stare openly in that moment.

She'd already caught me tenting my briefs, so I just yanked those off too, bold as I could manage.

My cock jutted slightly upward against gravity, a bead of moisture already gathered at the tip. I'd thought I was just hard—but seeing her naked must have pushed me further, because a little precome had already leaked out.

"Oppa, you're already this worked up~ Come on, let's rinse off and get to the bed~."

She smiled faintly at the sight, then stepped into the bathroom ahead of me.