Chapter 1 — Affair.3

Cash, baduk, hold'em, slots.

I turned on the dim rear light, pushing back the darkness.

After the storm of passion had passed, she looked at me with trembling eyes and asked,

"Do I look pathetic to you?"

"Why?"

"It's just... I slept with someone I just met."

"Let's not say things like that. If we're being honest, I'm in the exact same position."

"Okay."

"I'm glad. I really am. Your body is warm... so soft and comforting..."

"It's been a long time... Ever since my husband and I grew apart, I haven't shared a bed like this with anyone."

"So it really has gotten that bad between you two?"

"Yeah..."

"Do you hate him? Is this revenge?"

"..."

"It'd be understandable if it were."

"No... I was just so lonely. So terribly lonely..."

"Yeah... I know it sounds hollow, but I hope I was some comfort to you."

"..."

I gazed into her eyes and gently took her hand.

I brushed a few damp strands of hair clinging to her face and softly kissed her lips.

Her lingering heat, still uncooled, pressed against my mouth.

Gently teasing her lips with my tongue, I felt hers slowly emerge to meet me.

When I lightly rubbed her erect nipples with my fingertips, she exhaled another hot, shuddering breath.

"Ah... there... right there..."

"Does it feel good when I touch your breasts?"

"Yeah."

"It might be hard to go again..."

I said it, aware of my own limp member, and she whispered it was okay—just touch me, please.

Her face, faintly lit by the dim glow, looked faintly strained—yet strangely alluring.

My lips brushed softly over her eyelids, trailed down the tip of her nose, passed over her mouth, and moved toward her ear.

Her body twitched. Her breath came out hot and heavy.

I breathed my own warmth deep into the hollow of her ear.

She turned her head sharply to the side, unable to bear it, letting out a trembling moan.

Her hand gently settled over the back of mine where it rested on her chest—then slowly, deliberately, pushed it downward.

Under the sheets, her slick, clinging skin flared with heat once more.

Below her soft, curly mound, she guided my fingers herself to the wetness waiting there.

When I reached her soaked core, her middle finger pressed firmly over mine, urging me deeper.

While gently nibbling her nipple with my teeth, I carefully slid my middle finger into her depths.

"Hnn... ugh!"

Her chest heaved violently with a cry that sounded almost like agony.

"Ah... yes... deeper, please... deeper... Don't judge me. Don't call me a bad woman..."

She was struggling—some deep, unshaken moral code still warring within her.

"No. I won't. I'd never judge you."

Her hand slid down along the curve of my abdomen.

Her damp, trembling fingers wrapped firmly around my lifeless length, squeezing with deliberate pressure.

"Ugh..."

A new pulse of sensation surged through me, as if she were breathing life back into me.

My hand, now slick with her wetness, grew stickier by the second. Unable to resist the thirst any longer, I brought my mouth to her soaked core.

I drank and drank from that spring, yet it never dried.

I dug deeper, desperate.

Holding down her hips as they bucked wildly, I drank from her.

Her sweet nectar poured endlessly, and her thighs, taut with tension, wrapped tightly around my back.

"I'm coming... I'm... ah... coming..."

Her moans spilled out in broken gasps, driving me on.

---

Two seasons had passed. It was early winter, the air biting as it cut through the skin. She looked different—darker, somehow.

"You've got something on your mind, don't you?"

"No."

"Your face... it's so heavy. You're clearly troubled. What is it?"

"Let's talk about something else."

"Alright..."

I felt uneasy seeing her like this.

We walked slowly along a deserted beach, the sea wind sharp and cold. I took her hand and tucked it into the pocket of my jacket.

Her frozen fingers slowly warmed in my grasp.

She walked in silence, eyes down, watching the soft sand shift beneath her feet.

"The wind's cold."

"Yeah, it's chilly."

"Let's go inside."

She looked into my eyes, gripping our tangled hands in the pocket with sudden strength.

Her body was unusually hot, her tongue moving wildly, desperately—as if endlessly craving something.

After another storm of passion, she lay in my arms, gazing at me with hollow, sorrowful eyes.

As if trying to etch my face into her memory...

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

"..."

"You want to tell me. Just say it."

"No... I don't. I'm happy now... so happy..."

Her voice trailed off, and I felt a strange emptiness rise in my chest.

"So that's how it is."

"..."

My words, muttered like a soliloquy, met only silence—and her eyes, speaking volumes.

My heart, scattered like rumpled bed sheets, I tried to gather. I lit a cigarette.

"Cut back on smoking. It's bad for you."

"Yeah... I should quit."

"Smoke less. Take care of yourself at work. I know it's hard, but you have to stay healthy."

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray and gently cupped her face with both hands, pulling her close.

Our tongues tangled once more. Her hot breath fell against my ear again.

I devoured her—her lips, her breasts, that soaked, deep spring—trying to memorize every curve, every sensation.

Her body, burning, could endure no more. With a long, deep moan, she soared into climax.

I vowed to give her every ounce of passion I had—something I might never offer again.

My hands and lips traveled endlessly over the landscape of her body.

After today, this wet, feverish warmth of hers would be gone.

This sweet, warm breath against my ear—once this moment passes, it will exist only in memory.

Evening fell. The wind grew colder. We stood facing each other, unsure what to say, how to say goodbye.

Her hands, tightly clasped in mine, still radiated warmth—moving slightly, as if whispering: This is the last time. We'll never feel this again.

I put her in a taxi and watched her leave. Back in my car, all I could see was the back of her retreating figure.

A week passed. Life flowed on, calm and indifferent, as if nothing had happened. Just as the sun, briefly peeking through the clouds, vanished once more, her call came.

She said goodbye.

She would try again with her husband.

No words from me. Just gratitude—for holding me with such care all this time.

She worried about my health. She worried about hurting me.

I told her it was okay. I was fine. I wasn't hurt at all.