Don't Move
Tuesday evening. I finished my deadline yesterday and slept all day today. Waking up in the late afternoon, I open the fridge to find about half of the chicken porridge I made yesterday left over. The porridge where Haeun bought the ingredients and I did the cooking. I heat up a bowl and eat. The chicken meat is tender and falls apart easily. True recovery food.
I check my phone. It's the first time I've looked at it since waking up.
An imperative message. Classic Haeun. No questions, only notifications. It seems like her usual self, but the phrase "you need to loosen up your body" is a bit uncharacteristic. It sounds like she's looking out for my condition. Like the next logical step for the person who brought me porridge yesterday.
Since my deadline is over, I have the time. But a workout... I've never worked out seriously. My PT has only been going on for about three weeks, and it's mostly just walking and occasional stretching. Going to Haeun's gym near closing time feels a bit burdensome. Yet, when she says "come," I feel this strange urge that I have to go. And I have no valid excuse to tell the person who brought me porridge ingredients yesterday that I can't make it.
I change into athletic wear at home. A gray short-sleeved t-shirt and black training pants. My usual PT attire. I put on my sneakers and leave the villa.
At 7:00, I stand in front of Haeun's gym, Iron. It's a small gym located in the basement, and the clanking of equipment can be heard from inside. I open the door and walk in. Haeun is standing at the front desk. Black leggings and a navy sports bra. Over it, she wears a thin zip-up hoodie, zipped only halfway, revealing her collarbones and the definition of her abs. Strands of hair that escaped her ponytail drape down her neck.
It's the same outfit I see during my usual PT sessions, but today, the zipper of her hoodie is down about one notch lower than usual. I don't know if it's intentional or accidental. I don't ask.
"You're here."
"I'm here."
"Then let's get started right away."
Haeun leads me to an empty corner. An area with mats laid out.
"Today isn't a PT session. Since your deadline is over, we're just loosening up your stiff muscles. About thirty minutes."
"Okay."
"Lie down on the mat."
I lie flat on my back on the mat. The ceiling comes into view. Haeun sits down beside me. She starts with my ankles. Ankle rotations. Then she holds my calves and stretches my hamstrings, one leg at a time. Pressing my knees toward my chest to loosen up my glutes.
"How many hours did you spend sitting down during your deadline?"
"Probably around ten hours a day."
"No wonder your pelvis is so stiff."
Haeun's hands grasp one of my legs and slowly push it over to the opposite side. A spinal twist stretch. A loud pop echoes from my back. Ankles, calves, hamstrings, pelvis. She thoroughly loosens me up for about thirty minutes. A trainer's hands. Precise, strong, and efficient. Exactly like her hands during our usual PT sessions. After finally loosening up my shoulders, Haeun stands up.
"We've done the front. Let's do your back in a bit."
"Pardon?"
"The space here is too cramped to do a back massage. Other members are watching, too. Once we close up, I'll do it on the massage table at my place."
"...Do we really have to go that far?"
"It's better to release all the tension from your deadline at once. Otherwise, your form will be off during our next PT session."
Trainer mode. I have no counterargument.
"...Okay."
Sitting on the mat, I watch Haeun attend to other members. Her tone when dealing with other people is the same as usual. Commanding and brief. It's not that she uses a different tone only with me; she's just naturally like this. That brings a slight sense of relief. And a slight sense of disappointment.
9:00 PM. The gym's operating hours end, and everyone leaves. Haeun locks the door and walks back over.
"Let's go."
We return to the villa. We walk up the stairs to the second floor. Just as I'm about to head toward Room 201, Haeun opens the door to Room 203. I step into Room 203. Haeun's home. It's my first time here.
It has the exact same layout as my place, but it feels completely different. A single treadmill sits in the living room. Foam rollers and resistance bands hang on the wall. The kitchen is clean, but there are barely any signs of use. A single tub of protein powder. A package of chicken breast on top of the microwave. That's all. One room door is open. Inside is a folding massage table. It looks professional.
"I bought it for work. I use it when massaging members," Haeun says as she unfolds the table. "Lie face down here."
I lie face down on the table, placing my face in the padded hole. My back is exposed. I'm still wearing the short-sleeved t-shirt Haeun gave me.
"Pull your shirt up."
"What?"
"It's a back massage. It's better to take it off."
She has a point. I roll my t-shirt up, exposing my back. The air in the room brushes against my skin. It feels cool. Haeun's hands rest on my back. They feel cold. No, they aren't cold. Haeun's body temperature is actually high. But the temperature difference at the moment of first contact makes my skin tense up.
"Relax."
Haeun's hands press down on the center of my back. She uses her thumbs to sweep down along both sides of my spine. It's a professional movement. Precise, strong, finding the knotted areas and focusing on loosening them.
"You're really knotted up here. It's because you sat and worked all night."
"Ah..."
Pain and relief wash over me simultaneously. Haeun's thumbs dig into my trapezius muscles. As the tight muscles loosen, the tension drains away.
"Shoulders too."
Haeun's hands move up to my shoulders. She kneads them with both hands. Her grip is incredibly strong, yet it doesn't hurt. A perfect calibration of pressure. I close my eyes. It feels comfortable. The fatigue from pulling all-nighters seems to drain out of me through her hands.
"Hey."
"Yes."
"Getting PT three times a week isn't the end of it. You need to move around a bit, even at your desk."
"I know."
"If you know, why don't you do it?"
"...Once I start working toward a deadline, I can't get up."
Haeun's hands stop. Then, she slaps my back. Not hard, but firmly.
"Don't make excuses."
"Ouch."
"Even if it's just five minutes after a deadline, stretch. If you just follow what I tell you to do once in a while, you wouldn't get this knotted up."
Her hands start moving again, traveling from my back down to my waist. She presses and rotates her thumbs on both sides of my lower back. This is where I'm the most stiff.
"Ugh..."
"Bear with it."
Haeun's voice is low. Commanding. But there's a different tone mixed in. A voice of deep concentration. She loosens my waist, moves back up to my back, and works on my shoulders once more. About fifteen minutes pass. My body feels like it's melting.
Then, Haeun's movements change. The pressure of the massage becomes subtly lighter. They are no longer pressing hands, but caressing hands. Rather than the hands of a trainer, they feel like hands pretending to be a trainer's. As her palms slide down my spine, I can no longer feel any intention of loosening muscles. Instead, they simply glide slowly along the texture of my skin.
"Haeun?"
No answer. Her hands stop, resting on my back. Her warm palms remain still against my spine.
"Haeun, is the massage done?"
"...Not yet."
A low voice. It's different from her usual commanding tone. It's dropped a register. Haeun's hands slide up from my back to my neck. She cups the back of my neck. Not tightly, but the sensation of being held is unmistakable. Her fingers press against the side of my neck, right where my pulse beats.
"Don't move."
My heart takes a massive leap. This is not a massage.
Haeun's hands travel from my neck to my shoulders, then down to my arms. She pulls my arms back, pinning them behind me. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to render me immobile.
"Haeun, this—"
"Shh."
Haeun steps to the side of the table. I lift my head to look at her. Haeun's eyes look down at me. Sharp, serious, and somehow burning.
"You worked hard for your deadline. I'll take care of your recovery all the way."
"...What does that—"
"I'll do it. Just stay still."
It takes me two seconds to grasp the meaning of those words. Haeun turns my body over, flipping me from lying face down to flat on my back. With just one hand. A trainer's strength.
I don't resist. Could I have? Should I have? I don't know.
I see the ceiling. The ceiling of Haeun's room. And then, Haeun's face. Haeun places one knee on the table, right next to me. Looking up, I can see her sharp jawline. A stray strand of hair that escaped her ponytail dangles down.
"Haeun."
"I don't recall giving you permission to call me by my name."
As if even calling her name required her authorization. Haeun places her hand on my abdomen, over my t-shirt. Her palm rests on my flat stomach, which lacks any semblance of abs. It's warm. Her hand slowly slides down. Her fingers brush against my bare skin. They aren't rough. For someone who works out, her hands are surprisingly soft. Yet, I can feel the strength in them. Hands that could grip tightly at any moment.
"Haeun, this..."
Haeun leans down, bringing her face close to my ear. I feel her breath.
"Don't move. I'll do it."
My heart beats like crazy. Haeun must feel it. If she placed a hand on my chest, she'd know instantly. Haeun's hand stops at the waistband of my underwear inside my training pants. Her fingertips hook slightly over the elastic.
"Wait—"
"Quiet."
Her hand slips past the waistband. Her fingers slide down my lower abdomen. Every inch of my skin wakes up. Goosebumps break out. Haeun's fingers travel down slowly, deliberately. She takes hold of me.
"...!"
Haeun's hand wraps around me. A warm, firm grip. Not tight, but secure. Ensuring I can't move.
"It's big."
A single comment. Calmly, as if making an observation.
I stare at the ceiling. My breathing grows ragged. Haeun's hand begins to move. Slowly. From bottom to top, top to bottom. There is a rhythm to it. A precise speed, as if this, too, is part of an exercise routine.
"Look at me," Haeun says.
I turn my head. My eyes lock with hers. Haeun is looking down at me. The corners of her mouth are curled upward. It resembles her usual mocking expression, but her eyes are different. There is heat in them.
"I like this face."
"What... face..."
"The face you're making right now."
Haeun speeds up slightly.
"It's my first time seeing you make a face like this."
I don't know what kind of face I'm making. I want to close my eyes, but I feel like Haeun won't allow it. Her gaze pins me in place. There is no escape.
"Haeun-ssi..."
"Drop the 'ssi'."
"Haeun..."
"Good."
Haeun varies her speed. Slow. Fast. Slow again. As if testing me. As if watching my reaction. Just like a trainer adjusting the intensity of a workout. My hand reaches out to grab Haeun's arm. Haeun uses her free hand to pin my wrist down against the mat.
"I told you not to move."
My pinned wrist. I can't break free from Haeun's grip. No, I don't want to break free. This feeling of being dominated by her—what is this? I don't hate it. It's not just that it's "not bad"; I genuinely don't hate it. This situation where Haeun has me pinned down, holding my wrist, controlling the speed, and observing my reactions. This situation where I don't have to do a single thing.
"Does it feel good?" Haeun asks.
It sounds like a question, but it's a confirmation. A question asked when she already knows the answer.
"...Yes."
"More?"
I nod. Words won't come out. Haeun increases the speed. Decisively. Her grip tightens. As the up-and-down motion quickens, friction builds. Haeun's palm is burning hot.
"Haeun... I..."
"I know."
Haeun leans down. She whispers in my ear, her lips so close they almost brush against my skin.
"Don't hold back. I'll allow it."
Those words are the final blow. My breath catches. My body stiffens. Haeun's hand moves one last time—and I erupt.
For a few seconds, my mind goes completely blank. The world turns white. Haeun's hand slows down, stops, and slowly pulls away. I pant heavily. My heart beats in my ears. Haeun stands up and washes her hands at the sink. The sound of running water echoes. I stare at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath.
The feeling of being dominated by this woman. I liked it. That fact bewilders me.
Haeun returns. She tosses me a towel.
"Clean up."
Her usual tone. As if nothing had happened. Wiping myself down, I look at Haeun. She is leaning against the wall, drinking water. Her breathing seems slightly rushed, but her expression is exactly as it always is. Cold, confident, and in control.
"Haeun."
"What."
"What... was this?"
Haeun sets her water bottle down and looks at me.
"I told you, it's recovery."
"...This is recovery?"
"What else would it be?" Haeun crosses her arms and tilts her head. "Do you have a complaint?"
"It's not a complaint, but..."
"Then it's fine." Haeun turns around. "Get out. Go wash up and sleep."
I'm being kicked out. She wraps things up quickly. Classic Haeun. I pull down my t-shirt, adjust my pants, and head to the front door of Room 203. As I put on my shoes, I look back at Haeun. Haeun is watching me from inside the room, arms crossed. Her expression is indifferent, but her cheeks are slightly flushed. It seems her breathing hasn't completely settled yet either.
"Tomorrow morning at seven."
"...Okay."
"What ingredients should I buy?"
She's talking about that now? Considering what we just did, this isn't a situation where "what should we eat tomorrow morning" should naturally come up. But this is Haeun. Once it's over, it's over. The next step. The next routine. She doesn't drag her emotions along. At least, not on the surface.
"...Anything."
"'Anything' isn't on the menu."
A laugh slips out. It's surreal. Five minutes ago, I finished in this woman's hand, and now we are discussing tomorrow morning's menu.
"Salmon. Salmon."
"Got it."
I open the door and step out. I unlock the door to Room 201 and walk in. Closing the door, I lean my back against the entryway. My heart is still racing.
Haeun's hand. Haeun's voice.
Don't move.
I don't recall giving you permission.
Don't hold back. I'll allow it.
I press a hand to my forehead. I liked the feeling of being dominated by that woman. That fact is the most bewildering of all. I was never into this kind of thing. Or did I just not know? Did I never have the chance to find out? I was ordinary. Neither the one leading nor the one being led. Is that why I had never felt this kind of sensation before?
When Haeun pinned me down, held my wrist, controlled the speed, and commanded me to wait until she allowed it. A state where I didn't have to do anything. A state where I could surrender everything. That—felt comfortable. And it turned me on.
I wash up and lie down in bed. I stare at the ceiling. In the direction of Room 203. What is Haeun doing right now? Her cheeks were flushed. Her breathing was shallow. I definitely saw that. Haeun isn't completely unaffected either. She just doesn't show it. Control. This woman controls everything. Her emotions, the situation, and her partner.
I close my eyes. Tomorrow morning at seven. The doorbell will ring, and Haeun will walk in holding salmon. And we will eat breakfast as if nothing happened. That is Haeun's way. Am I supposed to just go along with that way? ...I don't know. Sleep won't come. But her voice saying "Don't move" lingers in my ears, and that memory isn't unpleasant. Of that much, I am certain.