3. The Upscale Bar — Futanari, a First Experience, Waiting, Possession
Friday night.
Jian sat alone at the far end of the bar counter, slowly turning a whiskey glass between her fingers.
She hadn't come here by chance. An acquaintance had told her Minwoo would probably show up tonight, and when Jian heard it she acted as if it meant nothing — nodded, ended the call, and then stood in front of her closet for two full hours.
In the end, she wore it. The dress. She did her makeup, too. Why had she gone to all this trouble?
The stares were uncomfortable. They always were. Everywhere she went, people turned to look — noticing what this body was, then either trying to understand it or turning away from it. There were eyes thick with desire and eyes thick with disgust, and neither kind ever left her in peace. So in crowded places, Jian was always alone — seen and unseen at once.
But in front of Minwoo, it had been different. Back in school, every time they brushed past each other in the hallway, he never once looked at her strangely — and he never looked away on purpose, either. He simply looked. At Jian, as Jian. That was all it was. And to Jian, it was everything.
Her whole life she had received stares, but she had never once been the one who was wanted — because she was the one who gave. Always. That was how she stayed safe. If you gave first, you never had to receive.
She took a sip of whiskey. It burned going down.
The mirror — she'd checked it only right before leaving. The dress fit well; the makeup suited her. And yet she couldn't hold her own gaze for long. Every time this body was caught in a mirror, she lost her sense of where she ended — a body carrying the parts of a woman and the parts that were not, side by side. She had never explained it to anyone. There was no point. No one would have understood.
Tonight — she had no idea how it would go.
Then the door opened.
Minwoo walked in — with two women. Miu and Jenny.
Their eyes met. Minwoo recognized her first. He didn't smile; he simply looked, the way he had back in school. That alone was enough to make Jian's heart skip strangely off its beat.
They ended up at the same table. Jian chose the seat beside Minwoo as if it were the most natural thing in the world — doing, right now, what she had never once managed back in school.
She laid a hand on his arm. In the same instant, beneath the table, Miu's hand clamped down on Minwoo's thigh.
Miu looked straight at Jian.
"He's mine."
Blunt. An order to leave.
Minwoo laid his hand over Miu's and said nothing.
Jian set her glass down.
"Me too... I'm the same."
The VIP room. The moment the door shut, the noise of the bar faded into the distance.
Miu planted herself in front of Jian, and silence pooled between them. Jenny held her breath. Minwoo watched from a step behind.
Miu's eyes tried to read Jian — threat, or possibility? Jian refused to be read. She could tell Miu knew what she was. These were the eyes of a woman who had hunted before — but right now, they were the eyes of a woman protecting something. Him.
Oddly enough — she liked that.
"And what exactly could you give him? Compared to me?"
Jian went still for a beat at those words. Then, instead of answering, she lowered herself slowly onto the sofa and slipped a hand beneath her dress.
Silence stretched. Miu's eyes narrowed. Jenny froze.
And then she drew it out.
Already hard. It had been, since the moment she first looked at Miu.
Miu went rigid. Jenny swallowed.
Jian met Miu's gaze, unhurried — and yet, underneath it, trembling, just a little. She hadn't wanted this moment bared. She had always shown herself with her chin up, but here in this room, with Minwoo watching, everything felt different.
"This is what I have."
"What I can give him."
Jian rose slowly to her feet and crossed the space to Miu.
"May I go first?"
Miu didn't step back. To Jian, that was permission.
Jian's hands took Miu by the waist and guided her gently down onto the sofa. Then she knelt.
Miu looked down at her — coldly, with eyes that had granted permission and withheld it in the same breath.
Jian's fingers slid slowly up the inside of Miu's thigh. She didn't rush; she searched, unhurried, for the most sensitive spot. When the first finger touched her, Miu's hips gave the smallest jerk.
"Ahh..."
Miu's breath caught short. She bit her lip, pressing the sound down.
Slowly, a second finger joined the first. She was burning inside. Jian curled her fingers and tapped the upper wall in rhythm — once, twice, three times.
"Mmm—"
Miu seized a sofa cushion, her eyes sliding half-shut. Cool, impenetrable Miu — by the third finger, she was starting to shake.
Then Jian glanced over at Jenny and asked with her eyes. Jenny swallowed hard — and then, of her own accord, took a step closer, nodding as she came.
Jian's right hand reached for her. The moment her fingers slid inside—
"Haah—"
Jenny's voice came first.
Jian worked with both hands. Her left kept its rhythm against Miu's upper wall; her right matched the same beat inside Jenny, and the two of them heated at the same pace. Every time Miu tried to hold back, the left hand pressed a little deeper. Every time Jenny's knees threatened to fold, the right hand never stopped.
Miu's hips lifted. Jenny followed a breath later.
"Haangh—!"
"Aahn—!"
It was almost the same instant — Miu first, Jenny half a beat behind. Cool, composed Miu came completely undone at Jian's hand.
The two of them slumped against the sofa, spent, and Jian quietly rose.
She drew her fingers out slowly. Miu's body shivered faintly as they left her — hot, slick; Jian felt every bit of it on her fingertips. It was the same with Jenny: when Jian pulled her right hand away, Jenny's breath hitched softly, proof the aftershocks were still rolling through her.
Jian looked down at Miu. Miu gazed back through half-lidded eyes — the wariness gone. She said nothing, but her eyes did the acknowledging for her.
Minwoo stood in front of Jian.
"I've waited a long time for this."
Jian's heart seemed to stop.
There was no embarrassment in it, no shock. He simply said he'd waited — knowing exactly what Jian was. As if the knowing itself was why he'd waited.
Her eyes went hot. It was the first time in her life.
Minwoo knelt before her.
Jian's whole body locked. She had never once seen anyone kneel to her. She was always the one on her knees — the one who gave. And now Minwoo was kneeling in front of her.
His lips touched the lowest part of her.
Cold at first, then warm — that was the temperature of that first contact. When Minwoo's lips grazed her, Jian's body tried to retreat. Pure reflex; she had never once pulled away first in her life, because receiving felt like it would break her. But Minwoo followed — exactly as far as she withdrew. All the way.
Her mind went white. She had never been given to before. Not like this, not at this temperature — the feeling of someone's lips enveloping her there. Her body didn't know how to respond, so it simply froze.
Minwoo's tongue moved slowly, cradling the tip — soft strokes up and down, then hard.
"Ah—"
The sound escaped her even though she'd tried to hold it in; her body was faster than her will. The sensation spread through her whole frame — and it didn't feel like something foreign. For the first time, it felt like something welcomed.
Never once, with anyone else.
This body had always been alone. An object of desire, yes — but she had never been on the receiving end of desire. Because receiving meant falling apart. Because falling apart terrified her. So she had always given first. It was safer that way.
And now Minwoo was asking for nothing. He was simply giving.
His hand closed around her other half at the same time — the male part of her. Mouth and hand moving in a single rhythm.
Jian's hips lifted.
"Minwoo— wait—"
He didn't stop.
The sensation rising like a tide from her female side and the tightening grip on her male side arrived together, and the two melted into one. Her body was taking it in for the first time — two places that had never once, in her entire life, been filled at the same moment, burning together now.
"Minwoo."
For the first time, she called his name desperately.
"I—"
"I know."
His rhythm quickened.
Jian's body went taut. Her hips rose.
"Haangh— aahhn—!"
She broke like a wave — low and long, from her female side and her male side all at once. Both places came undone together.
It was the first time she had ever fallen this completely.
Her body went on trembling for a long while, still clenching deep inside — both places at once. A wave would recede and come again, smaller, until at last it ebbed. And Jian took every one of those waves. She didn't brace against them, didn't funnel them off somewhere else. She simply received them. Her eyes were wet; she didn't wipe them. It felt like it would be all right for Minwoo to see.
She couldn't believe that being received for the very first time could feel this good.
Her breathing came back to her.
Jian opened her eyes and looked at Minwoo.
"This time, me."
She climbed over him slowly, laid him back — and, little by little, entered him.
Minwoo's breath caught short.
Jian began to move. Slowly at first, watching how he responded — deep, then shallow. Learning at which angle his eyes fell shut, at what depth his breath broke. For the first time, she wanted to give back what she had received.
"Haah..."
A low sound left Minwoo's lips.
Jian picked up the pace, rolling her hips in long, deep strokes — all the way to his core.
Minwoo's hand found Jian's and gripped it, pulling her deeper as if to say so.
It's all right. You can give me more.
Jian felt that hand — and went deeper. Faster.
"Jian—"
"Mm."
"I'm close—"
"Me too, Minwoo— aahn— aahh—!"
Minwoo went rigid. And then — he burst.
Jian followed him over. Inside him. Hot. Full.
A second time. This time, together with Minwoo.
For a while, there was nothing at all.
Jian lay down beside Minwoo, her breathing still uneven. Across from them, Miu and Jenny had collapsed onto the sofa, catching their breath — and watching her.
Miu spoke first.
"Next time, be with us from the very start."
There was no wariness in it. Only acceptance.
Hearing those words, Jian closed her eyes.
All her life, she had existed seen and unseen at once.
Tonight, for the first time — with everything bared — she could finally let herself rest.