18. Sauna 1 (2)
My breath catches in my throat.
"Did you bring shampoo? I think I packed mine, but I can't see it anywhere."
"I brought some. Use mine."
Muffled voices chatting drift over faintly from somewhere—maybe the next row of lockers, or the one after. If only my locker were tucked in the inner corner, but no, it's the outermost one, so every distant footstep makes my heart thud wildly. This is way too dangerous.... What if I get caught? It's all women here, so they'd stare at me like a freak. They'd whisper contemptuously from afar. "Can you believe a real pervert slut like that exists?" they'd say, pointing fingers and calling me disgusting. If I'm wandering around with this graffiti scrawled all over my body, I can't complain about hearing that stuff. Honestly, even I think I look like a whore. Hoo.... The tension flooding every inch of me freezes my arms in place. I'm terrified. Yeah, they're all strangers—no one could link the pervert standing here to a person named Im Ha-yoon.... But that doesn't mean they won't remember my face. What if I bump into one of them on the street later...? Then everyone would know I'm pervert Im Ha-yoon.
I swallow hard. With my body like this, I can't even go to the baths. That place offers zero cover—everything would be exposed for sure. Instead, I'll head up to the sauna sleeping area and crash right away. Better to sleep fast and head back to campus early tomorrow morning.
I set the ochre sauna uniform on the wooden bench in front of my locker and leave the door open. A lower locker would've been perfect for hiding behind, but this one's up high—useless for that. Perfect? What's perfect about not being able to hide? The thought hits me, and I'm stunned. What the hell is in my head? Even if it's my own idea, it's too perverted.
Trembling fingers grab the hem of my T-shirt. Gotta change fast when no one's passing by. I suck in a breath and yank it up in one go. My breasts bounce free, jiggling as they spill out. My vision blacks out for a split second, then brightens. The graffiti circling my underboob—"Pervert Who Gets Turned On by Being Hit"—shines clear, along with the words "Whore" and "Please Insult Me" lined up neatly above my dolphin shorts slung low on my mound. My lower belly tingles sharply. Purely lewd, utterly vulgar graffiti.
I drop the T-shirt to the floor. Now there's nothing left to cover me. Standing here bare, with body-writing shocking enough to make anyone scream in horror if they saw it. Showing everything. That's just how I want it. Haaah.... Feels so good. The heat between my legs soaks everything damp. Better take these off too. If the dolphin shorts get any wetter, the stench will never wash out.
My fingertips hook the bottom edge and tug down. The shorts, barely clinging to my mound, slide off my legs and hit the floor with barely any effort.
......Naked. Completely. My rag of a body is fully exposed. Perky breasts, pale skin—ordinary on their own for any girl. But the scrawls covering my skin turn me into a pervert. Undressing in the baths is normal enough, but one set of graffiti capturing my innermost desires twists it into cheap perversion. That taboo thrill, that disconnect—it's bliss.
I could change piece by piece to cover up safely.... But no. I've stripped down to my birthday suit, nothing draped over my skin. I'm a pervert, so changing clothes means going fully naked first. Just swapping is something normal people do. Whether in a room or out here, getting naked to redress—that's for perverts like me. Look—my pussy's drooling lewd juices. Soaking my thighs because it feels good. A pervert worse than a whore has to strip every time she changes... then put things back on one by one. Yeah, that's the rule from now on. Gotta have some penalty to savor this high. I etch the wild thoughts swirling in my brain deep as my first unbreakable rule.
Keeping it will feel good; breaking it means I punish myself—and either way, it's bliss. I love it.... The sudden spark of an idea satisfies me completely. No matter what's on my body or who's around, every time I swap socks or a necklace, I strip everything first. Haa.... Hot breath slips through my lips on a wave of contentment.
Even amid this, voices chatter nearby. My legs tremble fine from the tension. Blood runs cold. My head goes white with pleasure. Ordinary people chatting casually just a short distance away... while I expose my pervert body completely. Chab-chab—wet skin slaps the floor. Footsteps grow closer.
Gotta dress before they catch me. Not ready to get busted yet. I drew all these filthy words on myself with my own hands, and getting caught would feel horrifyingly good—but still, not yet. Can't ruin this high so soon.... I snatch the ochre sauna pants and thread my legs in. More graffiti down there—gotta cover it quick. I yank them up, wrapping my lower belly fully.
The footsteps are too close. Right next row, maybe right in front. Ugh, no time for the top. My breasts have lewd scrawls too—enough on its own to brand me a pervert. Plus, the bruises haven't faded, matching "Pervert Who Gets Turned On by Being Hit" perfectly. My heart hammers nonstop. No time left. Ah... too late. Busted for sure.
I give up on the shirt, dropping my arms. My mottled, bruised breasts stay fully bared. If I'd changed piece by piece from the start, I wouldn't have been caught. The thought flashes, but there's zero regret. That electric thrill dominates my whole body.
Sorry. I'm a total pervert. Perverted enough to scribble this trashy graffiti on myself and walk around. Look all you want, insult me freely. Point and call me gross like you just saw something vile. It's all my fault for being a pervert. Even almost getting raped by that guy? My fault too. What do you expect from a rag like me who does shit like this?
Panting hot breaths, I stand there with my chest exposed, waiting. A shadow flicks from the side—an auntie with her head wrapped in a towel passes by. She glances my way, then snaps her eyes forward. Not really looking at me—just confirming someone's there, like. She vanishes without a second look.
Eh? Wha—? No turning back, no peeking. Footsteps fade away.
I... didn't... get caught...? My racing heart shows no sign of slowing. I'd imagined her screaming, drawing everyone's stares to my lewd body.... But she just passed. Guess I dodged it....
I exhale in shaky relief and shove my head into the sauna T-shirt. Pull it down to hide my skin, stuff the discarded clothes haphazardly into the locker. They're crumpled and damp on the floor anyway—no big deal. My heart's pounding too hard to fold neatly.
My thighs chafe, as soaked as the dolphin shorts. At this rate, I'll ruin the sauna pants too.... Later, when everyone's asleep hours from now, I'll sneak into the baths to wash. The high fades with the cooled tension. That was close.... Almost busted again. Should've turned away or covered with clothes at least. Standing there with my tits out—what an idiot. No matter how I think about it, pleasure's hijacking my brain. How else to explain not running when danger hits?
"Haa...."
A different kind of sigh escapes. But... but it felt so good. Almost getting seen by a stranger was pure ecstasy.... Better than hiding and getting caught for real—pretending it's an accident lets me get labeled a pervert and move on. Safer that way, right? Hmm....