Arbitrary (3)
The main job of a convenience store part-timer isn't dealing with customers. It's not restocking shelves, sorting out expired items for disposal, or frying up snacks. No, the real job is... figuring out how to kill this rotting time as quickly as possible.
Of course, that's strictly from the part-timer's point of view. The owner's? Whatever. They don't even pay minimum wage—hell, isn't it fine to slack off below that?
"Hehe..."
Right here. Lee Hayun, giggling dopily at the counter, was lost in the exact same thoughts. Scrolling through a lineup of KakaoTalk profiles. Staring at the one that was just blank—no photo, nothing but "Seo Woojin" typed out plain.
At least the guys who were average-looking or better all had their faces plastered as profile pics. Failing that, it was pet photos, hero shots, that sort of thing. But this guy? Straight-up default. Nothing special about it, but for some reason, it fascinated her. Does he just hate having his picture taken?
Her fidgeting finger brushed somewhere on Woojin's profile.
...And up popped their empty one-on-one chat room.
"What do I do..."
First message. She'd fired them off without a second thought her whole 21 years, guy or girl, no big deal. But this time? Brutally tough. Not just any guy—he was her boyfriend... or whatever. She couldn't even figure out how to start.
Hey? Lame, like a kid. What're you up to? Kinda... suggestive, right? Like she was hinting at something naughty. On the other hand, shouldn't the guy text first? Thinking like that felt uncool. Emotions swirled in a chaotic storm.
"Ugh, screw it..."
Yeah. Overthinking was the problem. Just like with anyone else—natural, like the big sis she was...!
She just had to fire off whatever popped into her head...!
She hit send. Yeah, it had that flirty vibe... but it wasn't that big a misunderstanding...!
...Not like pull my hair and fuck me or anything...!
Ugh. Dying of embarrassment here... Aaaah!
Hayun shuddered, then slapped her phone face-down next to the counter the second it sent.
Ding-a-ling. The door opened—an elderly grandpa bought a mild pack of Esse, chatted about some robbery incident, told her to yell loud if anything happened. Sweet, in his own way.
"..."
About two minutes passed like that. Should've been a buzz by now.
The flipped phone lay silent, unmoving.
Mute mode maybe? Hayun let out a tense sigh and cautiously flipped it over.
"..."
No reply. Not even the little "1" notification.
"Ugh..."
9 p.m. Not that late. Prime time, really? Whether you're an early riser or a gamer pulling all-nighters and crashing mornings (Jiyoon did that during long breaks), this was peak hours.
What gives? Gaming maybe? He'd said he wasn't into games last time, though...?
She fiddled with her phone another five minutes, pretending nonchalance, then checked. Still nothing. The "1" hadn't budged.
"..."
A spark of pointless stubbornness flared.
She sent another, then glared holes into the screen. All it did was tick her battery down from 78% in the top right.
Jiyoon's intel: shooting games took about an hour per round. Hence the "tell me an hour before dinner" rule. Shorter or longer games existed, sure, but Hayun decided to wait exactly one hour.
Her phone finally buzzed... right after she hit the bed, drifting off to dreamland.
32
"Ah—! I wanna fuck so baaad—!"
On a familiar back alley path, after I'd carried her home so many times. 27-year-old Yojora, sweetly wasted, wriggled against my back.
"The office... all one of 'em look like goddamn bears, hic..."
"..."
"The cute ones? Even when a hot sis like me offers once, they run like eunuchs...!"
"..."
Underneath her, 25-year-old me choked down a torrent of curses threatening to erupt.
If you're that horny, just hit a club or something. Nah, she liked "natural encounters," no clubs ever. Crazy bitch.
"Hey. Woojin-aa..."
"Yes, senpai."
"Look at this? Another DM dick pic...?"
"Got it. Must suck."
"Whaddya think? Tiny as hell... stood right up for me, though... hic."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't shove the screen in my face."
"Cheetos? Barely 10 cm...? Pffft-haha...!"
"Sigh... Sue 'em or kill 'em, your call. ...Not that it'd stick anyway."
"They keep sendin' 'cause I accept...? Should just kill 'em all... ...Huh?"
Her phone, dangling from her hand, clattered to the ground. A faint crunch—then I sighed and kept walking. Happens all the time. As long as the SIM's fine...
Money? No sweat. The bosses behind the scenes topped us up monthly.
"But Woojin-aa... yours could be small and I'd be fiiiine... sis won't laugh... hehe..."
"Appreciate the thought."
"Whyyy... sis in uniform on the train? You know how rough that was...?"
"Pretty sure I've heard this at least ten times."
Morning yawns, staring out the window—some guy's hand "accidentally" brushes her ass. She endures at first, tired... but he gropes over her skirt anyway. Next stop, she grabs his wrist, drags him off. Walks a bit, then into a quiet park bathroom alone with the panting suit perv. Shakes water off her hands, slips out solo. Cops? Took over three years to catch him. She'd broken it down into a whole series, a dozen-plus variants.
"Guess it's eleven now... sheesh. Anyway, why not sleep with sis...?"
"You said S last time. Your words."
"Mmm. So what...?"
"Not my thing. BDSM or whatever."
"Hmm... yeah...?"
Even with heroes. If my target's a perfect S with no clear way in, I'd cut losses clean. Let alone a villain like Yojora. Training her could backfire—her domming me. Too risky for casual skinship. Like, why fugu when there's plenty of safe eats?
"I'll make ya interested... stay over... sis'll rub ya allll over... hic..."
"Cut it out. Spit in my ear."
"Hehe... nomnom..."
"Goddammit...!"
"Next time, booze at my place... lock the door tiiight so ya can't leave...!"
"..."
Note to self: dodge any "too lazy, drink at mine" invites from her next time. Etch it in bone.
We reached her officetel. Uncharacteristically tidy—felt off. Five years of this mess, and still weird. Drunk-stumbling bitch—when the hell does she clean? Probably hires a service.
"Whew..."
"Kyaang..."
Dropped her on the bed—she clutched the fluffy blanket, weird noise and all. I eyed her disheveled clothes, the pale... whatever underneath.
She squirmed, half-lidded like she was baiting me on purpose. I killed the lights, slipped out carefully.
*****
That was it. For ten straight years.
Whoosh.
"...Wanna touch sis's bodyyy...?"
Whisper thick with booze wafted up from below. Hushed now—not like our usual chat. Careful of the guy smoking beyond the wall.
Whisper. Whisper.
"...No thanks."
Same answer as always. Hayun and Jiyoon were on deck soon—no room for gambles.
Yeah. Head said that.
...Eyes traced her soft, squishy curves anyway. Touching's harmless, right? The thought crept in, but I was rational.
...Mostly.
"...Liar... you were a horny kid days ago, and now this? No waaay..."
"Senpai. Where'd you even hear—"
"C'mere... hic..."
"..."
Couldn't tell her to fuck off outright, so I hesitated. She dove into my arms. Pressing her tits right against me.
Squish. She rubbed her flushed nose-tip on my chest, looked up.
"Pffft... your face. Hilarious... hic."
"...What's wrong with my face."
Hayun said something similar once. I schooled my expression and asked—Yojora giggled back.
"Dunno... like a kid playing grown-up? ...Ah. Yeah."
"..."
"Pathetic... hehe."
"..."
"How's sis's tits...? ...Like?"
"..."
Japanese thing? More sexually open than Koreans, so she drops lines like this easy? Was it okay to read "please leave me alone" however she wanted?
Virgin with zero experience herself—why so cocky?
I exhaled a thick, chunky sigh and answered quietly.
"Fine. Gonna touch for real?"
"Pfft... really gonna...? Ngh..."
"...You cool with me doing whatever?"
"Mhm. Go for it. Curious what tits feel like, right?"
"..."
"C'mon... go ahead...?"
Before she finished, I clenched then relaxed my fist. Slid my hand slow through her thin winter fabric.
"..."
Her booze-warmed skin, soft. Fingertips hit the lacy bra texture.
She smirked leisurely—then her face froze. I unhooked the clasp.
Just like that. Tits too massive for one adult hand. The ones guys nearby always ogled when we drank. The ones that pinned my back every drunken night for a decade.
Squeeze.
As hard as I'd held back those ten years.
Squeeze. Hard enough to leave marks?
Squeeze.
"...S-see? Boys can't hate thiiiis..."
"..."
"N-no... way..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Villa first-floor parking lot—anyone could see. Wall beyond: smoking dude.
Yet my hand lifted her white shirt, groped vulgarly inside. Not lover-like. Not tender.
Perverted. Creepy. That fit better.
Smooth skin edge—her nipple, shyly tucked in. I prodded with fingertips. Short nails scraped it relentlessly. It stiffened slow; faint twitch.
Old intel: tits were sensitive for her...
...Whatever. Meh reaction. Yojora gonna Yojora. No stripping to panties with her.
"...Ngh..."
"..."
Lust-gripped tit. Fingertips felt her cold sweat.
Spread it wide like lotion—tease why sweat in this cold? Crude motions a bit.
...Then pinched her tense, twitching nipple hard.
Didn't say how to touch, did I?
".... ...."
No reaction. Or trying hard not to. She'd stared only at my face—now glancing around furtively.
...Plan was just venting a decade's buildup.
But spite sparked. Slid my other hand in too.
Shoved aside the dangling bra, exposed the hiding nipple. Scraped it slow with fingertips.
...Until distant footsteps.
Yojora's face flushed shame-red.
"S-stop..."
"..."
"Stop it, asshole... people comin'... can't ya hear...?"
"..."
Till then, I tormented her sweat-slick, stiff nipples mercilessly.
Pinch. Pinch.
"Fuck, if I skip again with you, we're screwed. Always get caught."
"Bullshit. We don't always—coincidences happen, dumbass."
"This time we're fucked. Check the group chat. PC bang crew's all busted."
"What the hell... just spank asses, why scrap corporal punishment."
I pulled my hand from her shirt—three black long-padded teens waddled by. Glanced our way, but whatever.
Quiet again. Smoking uncle slunk inside, wary.
Heard us? Who knows.
Just me and Yojora left.
"...That enough?"
"...Eh...?"
"Touched 'em. Like you asked."
"...Asked...? M-me...?"
"Honey trap, right? Isn't it?"
"Th-that's... yeah..."
"Didn't work, like you saw. Head home."
"..."
Good. Anger vented. No need dragging risky ties. Avenged a decade on her tits—now focus on Hayun and Jiyoon.
I brushed past, toward the lobby door.
"..."
"..."
Stood there awhile. Punched in the code to enter.
Behind me, Yojora straightened her clothes, waiting meekly.
Body turned naturally.
"What."
Irritated snap. She answered.
"...It did work... honey trap..."
"Huh?"
"This."
She nodded at my bulging pants.
"...Was rock-hard just now..."
"..."