Crumbling Muse
Sitting at the studio bar table, fiddling with her whiskey glass, Su-jeong's profile looked far more precarious than it had under the light panel earlier. Her damp white shirt now seemed to be steaming from her body heat, the thin cotton fabric clinging tightly to her skin and brazenly outlining the delicate patterns of the white lace bra beneath.
"Su-jeong, you're looking really pretty right now. But that fifth button's been looking kinda tight since earlier."
At my low murmur, she tilted her head slightly to look at me. After two glasses of whiskey, her eyes were already glassy, a single wet strand of hair plastered to her flushed cheeks like a ripe peach.
Following my gaze down to her chest, Su-jeong noticed how the first four buttons were already undone, her bra cups teasingly peeking out with every breath.
"This one? Ah... yeah, it does feel a bit tight. But oppa, if I undo it here, something might really happen. Heehee."
She giggled with a nasal whine mixed in from the booze. Gone was the elite nurse who stiffly donned her scrubs at the university hospital, tending to patients. Right now, in front of me, there was just a young girl drunk on the authority of "oppa" and numbed by strong whiskey.
I set my glass down and scooted my chair right up against hers.
"Accident? Nah, this is just an extension of the art. If that button's too tight, your free lines don't come alive. It's the button coming undone that puts the perfect period on today's shoot. You're not Jeong Su-jeong right now—you're my muse. Right?"
I leaned in close to her ear, lips brushing as I whispered. My hot breath hit her, and her shoulder visibly shivered. Su-jeong swallowed dryly, the motion making her damp collar sway and reveal even more of the soft flesh inside.
The app screen was flooded with cash bundles pouring down like rain. Oblivious to those unseen, frenzied gazes, Su-jeong stared piercingly only into my eyes. Her fingers slowly, agonizingly slowly, moved toward the last button at her chest.
"If oppa says it's pretty... then it must be. I trust you, oppa."
With trembling fingertips, she grasped the fifth button. As it half-slipped from the hole, she hesitated and looked up at me, her eyes a tangled mix of shame, curiosity, and inexplicable excitement.
I nodded silently. She could never read the ugly lust lurking behind my gentlemanly smile.
Pop. The button finally slipped free. The taut shirt front fell limply open to both sides. The weighted, damp fabric sagged downward, exposing her upper body's curves without filter. More than half her breasts, barely covered by the white lace bra, gleamed under the lights, goosebumps rising as cold air hit her skin.
"Whoa... fucking incredible, Su-jeong."
My admiration was genuine. The white flesh glowing through the wet shirt, the bra silhouette straining to burst—this was rawer, more vicious than any photoshoot.
Su-jeong stared blankly down at her exposed chest, then back at me, too dazed to even cover herself.
"Oppa... I really fucked up, didn't I? Those shots from earlier... they really turn out artistic like you said, right?"
Unaware she was being stripped bare by thousands of beasts, she craved only my approval.
I reached out, grabbed her damp collar, and yanked it wider. The shirt now barely hung from her shoulders, her slender collarbone and cleavage utterly defenseless.
"Damn right. Pure art. The most thrilling art in the world."
I refilled her glass. Phase one complete: shell peeled. Now to drag out the festering emotions inside.
Su-jeong yielded to my touch, downing another harsh gulp of whiskey.
"Su-jeong, your eyes looked so sad during the shoot. What were you thinking?"
My low voice made her shoulders twitch. Her fingers tightened on the glass, then her head drooped. A tear dropped with a soft plop onto the wet shirt hem on her knee.
"Oppa... I was... really struggling. Smiling at patients in the hospital, but inside I was crying every day. Dad's bills keep piling up, my account's in the red... I've had some really bad thoughts."
She finally burst into the tears she'd held back—not childish sobs, but choked, heaving wails of deep sorrow.
I stood, pulled her close, and naturally drew her head to my chest.
"It's okay. Oppa's here now. Why think dark shit over money? I'll handle it all."
She buried her face in me, clutching my shirt tight. Through her wet shirt, her hot body heat and ragged breaths seeped in. Each sob pressed her chest against me, the thin fabric between us making my cock harden with vivid sensation.
The app exploded with cash, but I rested my chin on her head, quietly patting her back. Su-jeong pressed deeper into me like it was the safest refuge in the world, her damp, semi-transparent shirt sticking wetly to my clothes.
"Oppa... thank you. Really... if I hadn't met you today, I don't know what would've happened. You're my savior."
She looked up, face tear-streaked, eyes loosened by booze, white flesh glistening between her gaping shirt with sticky candy residue. The contradictory sight burned sharper than any camera lens into my retina.
I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb, then slid down to press her lower lip. Far from resisting, she rubbed against my finger, craving deeper warmth.
"Su-jeong, you trust oppa, right? I won't let you suffer."
"Yeah... I trust you. I'll believe anything you say."
Enchanted, she wrapped her arms around my neck. Her shirt slipped down past her shoulders, fully baring her pale skin and bra strap. But she didn't care anymore, sweetly offering her lips.
Her slim arms tightened around my neck. Her booze-heated breath brushed my skin, dizzying and fishy. I dipped without hesitation, devouring her lips. Whiskey's bitterness, candy's fake sweetness, tears' salt mingled strangely on my tongue.
She jolted at first, then clung to my shirt desperately. A starved, clumsy kiss bursting with pent-up emotion. Her flesh through the wet shirt molded perfectly to me. Each gasp pressed her lace-covered breasts against my chest.
Cash rained on the app, but I didn't break the kiss. Su-jeong surrendered fully, eyes closed, body mine to lead. When our sloppy lips finally parted, saliva glistened lewdly around hers.
"Haa... oppa... I must be going crazy..."
She panted against my chest. I lifted her chin, eyeing the candy stain from the lollipop on her chest. Pink and yellow smeared obscenely over the semi-transparent wet shirt.
50 mil followed by 30 more. Su-jeong's value had surpassed mid-tier celebs. I tugged her damp collar, exposing her cleavage fully.
"Su-jeong, that candy rub from earlier. Leaving it'll irritate your skin from the sugar. It'll get red and sticky by tomorrow."
She dazedly looked down at her chest. Her heartbeat raced under my fingertips through the thin fabric.
"Ah... right. It's so sticky. What do I do, oppa?"
"Oppa'll clean it. Whiskey's alcohol dissolves it clean. Might feel cold and weird, but endure it. All for you."
I sipped whiskey, wetting my lips again. She stared blankly at them. Slowly, I lowered my head to the sticky stain on her chest.
"Ack... oppa...!"
My tongue tip touched the wet shirt, and her body arched, trembling. Cold whiskey and my hot saliva tormented her flesh through the thin barrier. Tasting the candy's sweetness soaked in, I licked the stain slowly, meticulously.
"Hng... oppa... feels weird... too... strange..."
"Hold on, Su-jeong. Gotta clean it all. Can't stand seeing our maknae's skin ruined."
I cloaked my beastly lust in "care," devouring her body. The shirt now clung like a cast, soaked in my saliva and whiskey. No resistance left—she pressed my head harder to her chest, moaning breathily.
In this capitalist-fueled filthy art scene, the prim elite nurse was slowly, inevitably breaking down.