Chapter 1 — Secret Partner — Part 1 (1)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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The sun had set, and a chill crept through the air. The unusually hot summer was finally fading, and already, people on the streets were beginning to wear long sleeves.

I rubbed my arms against the cold breeze and quickened my pace.

I first met her through an online photography club. Back then, I'd just bought a digital camera and was snapping photos of everything without any real skill. I wanted to get better—so when I stumbled upon the club during a web search, I joined without hesitation. It had a modest membership and even hosted formal critique sessions with professional photographers.

Every two weeks, we went on photo shoots, held reviews, and followed up with casual drinks. Over time, I grew close to the group.

Some members had been active for nearly ten years, while others, like me, were new. Ages varied widely, but thanks to our shared passion, we clicked easily. I found the whole experience fun and refreshing.

By the time I met Sarah Heeju, I'd already been part of the club for over a year and was on friendly terms with most people.

She wasn't strikingly beautiful, nor was she the type with a model's figure. She didn't stand out at first glance. But she had a refreshingly straightforward personality, loved social gatherings, and we just got each other. More than anything, she was my age.

Sarah Heeju had an average look and a soft, plump build—neither slim nor particularly shapely—so she wasn't a favorite among the men in the group. But she was one of the few who could keep up with any topic without awkwardness, and she never missed the after-parties, always lifting the mood.

There were other women around my age in the club, but she was the easiest to talk to. Sure, there were younger, prettier women, but pursuing them would've required time and effort I wasn't willing to invest. Married women were often more relaxed, but let's be honest—they were married women. Sarah Heeju was just right: comfortable, approachable, and easy.

She'd been coming to meetings for about six months when I started noticing something different. She began reacting to my jokes—not just laughing, but with a look in her eyes that felt… off. Not in a bad way. More like a subtle shift.

Call it intuition. A gut feeling.

I'd only been married a short while, and she had a boyfriend, so I'd never considered her as anything more—at least, I told myself that. But then, slowly, she started overreacting to my usual, tired jokes, her eyes lingering on me just a second too long.

I agonized over how to interpret that warmth in her gaze—until one night, drunk, I sent her a text.

Let's grab a drink sometime.

Dry. Bland. Nothing special.

She replied instantly.

I invited a few other friendly members, but everyone had plans. In the end, it was just going to be the two of us.

“You waited long?”

Her voice, as always, was bright and high-pitched. Her outfit told me she'd made an effort. I'd thrown on jeans and sneakers, but she wore a dress and heels.

Her chest was fuller than I'd realized, and her neckline dipped just enough to hint at cleavage—nothing vulgar, but noticeable. She looked dressed up—not for a club, not for a blind date, but somewhere in between. Polished, yet free.

“You look nice. I just threw something on—kind of embarrassing.”

“Don't be silly. Meeting a handsome guy like Peter Han? This is the bare minimum.”

She smiled that same easy smile, crinkles forming at the corners of her eyes.

She led me to a place she claimed had great seafood pancake and rice wine. The place looked old—run-down, even. A tiny round table, outdated chairs. These days, you'd have to search hard to find a spot like this.

We polished off a seafood pancake and two bottles of rice wine in no time, and the alcohol began to take hold.

I found myself watching her longer as she chattered—about photography, about life—her cheeks flushed pink.

Our eyes met more often now. By the time we'd downed a third bottle of rice wine and two more of soju, neither of us was bothering to look away.

She stared at me, motionless. Her cheeks had been red for a while, her lips glistening. Her arms were crossed—intentionally, I wondered—pushing her chest forward.

I usually hated it when someone crossed their arms while listening to me—it felt dismissive. But this time? Different.

She'd uncrossed her legs, too. Not wide, but just enough to make me want to peek between them. Just enough to tease.

I slowly reached out, brushing the back of her left hand with my right.

“What are you doing?”

She feigned surprise but didn't pull away. I gripped her hand tighter.

“I'm weak with alcohol. If I mix in beer, I'll end up drunk and leave.”

Her sudden words startled me. Any man who didn't order beer after that was either born without social awareness or painfully naive.

I, someone ready to cry at the slightest breeze, was both surprised and instantly responsive.

“Leave? Where to? Home?”

“You know…”

She lowered her head slightly, as if shy, then wobbled a little from the drink.

The gap between her dress's front panels widened, revealing more cleavage.

Her breasts looked even fuller than I'd imagined. I swallowed hard, my gaze locked, unable to look away.

After a couple more beers, the buzz hit me hard. She started looking even prettier.

She grew more honest, more open.

She grabbed my left hand first and wouldn't let go. Whether she was faking drunkenness or truly tipsy, she leaned gently against my arm.

I deliberately leaned in closer. She closed her eyes.

This was the final signal. Game over.

Without hesitation, I kissed her. I'd only meant to press my lips to hers—but her tongue slipped into my mouth, deep and eager.

Holy shit. Her tongue wasn't playing around. It was like she'd been waiting for this moment all along, sucking and swirling wildly, as if possessed.

It had been a long time since I'd tasted another woman's saliva. I couldn't hide my growing excitement.

“Let's go.”

She nodded quietly. I paid quickly and stepped out. Already, she was linking arms with me. The midnight streets felt colder than during the day.

She nestled into my side. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and quickened our pace toward the lights of the city, where the night stretched out before us, full of possibility.