Chapter 1 — The Older Woman I Met Over a Parking Spot

Daniel Park scowled as he pulled his car up in front of his house.

“Damn it, Grace Lee parked here again.”

He stepped out and dialed the number taped to the windshield of the obstructing car, but no one answered. Cursing under his breath, he redialed several times, frustration deepening his frown before finally climbing back into his own vehicle.

“She said her shop was just around the corner, right?”

After navigating through narrow alleys, Daniel Park’s car came to an abrupt stop in front of the owner’s store. He stormed out, still muttering angrily.

Despite the late hour, the shop was bustling with customers. When Daniel Park pushed open the door, the owner—Grace Lee—was frantically wrapping purchases, too busy to notice him at first.

“Oh! Daniel Park? What brings you here?”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“Oh my, is it already this time? Sorry, sorry—I’ve been swamped with customers!”

Flustered, Grace Lee handed him her car keys, asking him to move it for her. Though she smiled warmly, Daniel Park seethed inside.

“Grace Lee, you should’ve moved it earlier. What the hell?”

He climbed into her car—a decade-old model—and grimaced again.

“This is a woman’s car? How can it be so filthy? Even a landfill would be cleaner than this…”

Her interior looked like a mobile trash heap—littered with wrappers, loose papers, and random clutter, leaving barely space to sit. Unable to settle properly, Daniel Park backed the car out, parked his own, then drove hers back toward the shop.

“Here.”

“Sorry, Daniel Park.”

As he tossed the keys back at her, he studied her face—the same one that belonged to that disgusting car.

‘She probably doesn’t even wash properly. This woman…’

He barely acknowledged her thanks before hurrying out, his mind filled with disdain. Walking home, he cursed her silently all the way.

Ring, ring.

Ring, ring.

“Who the hell calls at this hour?”

Daniel Park glanced at the wall clock and picked up the phone.

The woman’s voice on the other end made his brow furrow once more.

“What is it?”

His tone was sharp.

“Now? Yeah, tomorrow’s my day off. Okay… yeah, fine. I’ll come.”

It was Grace Lee. She’d closed the shop and called him. Though he responded coldly, he agreed to meet her. Maybe it was only for the free drinks—but whatever the reason, he regretted saying yes almost immediately. Yet when she mentioned buying soju at a street-food stall, he changed his mind and started rummaging for clothes.

Soon, Daniel Park shuffled down the street in slippers and sweatpants, dragging his feet, shoulders hunched.

“You close late?”

“Always around this time,” she replied. “Daniel Park, what do you like? I’m treating tonight.”

“There’s not much to treat here… Just soju, I guess?”

“Hoho. Really? Then let’s go.”

Though it wasn’t particularly cold, the late-night tent stall buzzed with people. They found a spot and ordered soju and side dishes, clinking glasses back and forth.

“You drink a lot, huh?”

They were already on their second bottle. Daniel Park was surprised—she held her liquor well.

“This is nothing. Hoho. You don’t drink much?”

“I don’t drink poorly—just moderately.”

Every time he raised his glass, he caught sight of her face. He studied her carefully—her youthful appearance belying her age.

“You’re one of those someone who looks younger than their age types—look younger than you are.”

She laughed, clearly pleased. “I hear that all the time. Probably because I’ve never stressed about marriage.”

“So you’ve never married…”

“Nope. Why? Just happened that way. Hehe.”

Daniel Park nodded slowly, studying her face again.

“Want another round, Daniel Park?”

She patted her stomach, then stood. As Daniel Park exited the stall first, she followed closely, looping her arm through his.

He stopped, turning to look at her.

“You don’t mind this, do you?”

Without answering, he gently gripped her hand resting on his arm and resumed walking.

Her skin felt softer than he expected. Her weight leaned heavier against him as the alcohol took hold.

Each time her soft chest brushed his arm, he felt her warmth. His curiosity about her grew into something deeper, more magnetic.

“Wanna come to my place for coffee?”

He halted, staring at her. She stared back.

Their faces were dangerously close. He slipped his arm free and lightly cupped her face.

Her warm breath washed over him. He pulled her closer—

and kissed her.

Her arms wrapped around his waist. His lips gently covered hers, parting them. Their teeth clinked softly as her tongue slipped into his mouth, then retreated. His tongue traced the roof of her mouth before sucking gently on her lower lip.

Breathless, they parted. She lowered her head. He stroked her hair.

He glanced at the sky, unsure what to say.

“I did say coffee, right?”

She nodded faintly, cheeks flushed deeper.

Arm in arm, they walked in silence until they reached his apartment.

At the doorway, neither moved to enter.

“You said you’d make coffee?”

She tugged his arm, pulling him inside.

“Wow, this is how you live!”

She looked around his room while he went to make coffee.

“It won’t collapse—go ahead and sit.”

“The floor’s warm.”

Their hearts pounded as they lifted their coffee cups.

“Why did you kiss me back there?”

She asked quietly. He shrugged.

“Just… happened.”

She set her cup down and scratched idly at the floor with her nail.

“Honestly, it felt good—kissing a man after so long. You didn’t enjoy it?”

He didn’t answer, just watched her, suddenly wary of pushing further.

In the ambiguous silence, they only stared at each other. Then Daniel Park picked up his cup and stood.

“You want me to leave? Now?”

She thought he was telling her to go. He shook his head.

“No. Just cleaning up. Want anything else?”

“No. I just thought that’s what you meant, Daniel Park.”

He placed the cup in the kitchen and returned. She sat with her back to him, delicate shoulders visible beneath her two-piece outfit, knees drawn sideways in a graceful pose.

He sat quietly behind her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched slightly but softly grasped his hand.

“Um… here…”

Her voice trembled. So did his as he murmured, “It’s okay,” and began massaging her shoulder.

His hand slid down her arm, then returned to her shoulder, moving to stroke her hair.

Exhaling warm breath, he ran his fingers through her strands, slowly caressing her entire scalp.

She shivered each time, whispering faintly, “Why am I doing this…”—barely audible.

One hand on her shoulder, the other circling her waist, he pulled her firmly against him. Then he shifted his hand from her shoulder to her chest, gently resting it atop her breast.

She grasped his hand—not to resist, but to follow. There was no strength in opposition.

“Daniel Park… let’s stop. Okay?”

Behind her, his hands trembled as they unbuttoned the top of her two-piece. Her hands twitched slightly as she touched his.

When his palm touched bare skin, she tensed and grabbed his wrist.

“Daniel Park… let’s stop. Please?”

But the tighter she gripped, the harder he pressed against her breast. Both breathed hot, ragged breaths.

She turned, faced him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Startled, he dropped his hands but immediately hugged her back, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I did that…”

“No… but Daniel Park, let’s stop here. Okay? I’m scared.”

She stroked his hair. He held her shoulders, creating a small distance, then gently cupped her face again.

Her cheeks glowed pink. Her eyes stayed closed.

Slowly, his lips enveloped hers once more—firm yet tender, sucking gently at her mouth.

Her arms went slack. They collapsed together, and his hand returned to her breast.

Each time his palm brushed her nipple, it hardened, tingling against his skin. Soon, he had undone all her top buttons.

Her full, perky breasts spilled free. With her lips claimed, he trailed kisses down her neck.

She kept her eyes shut, making no resistance now, only stroking his head.

Reaching her chest, he gathered both mounds in his hands and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

A soft moan escaped her.

“Ah… hah…”

His tongue flicked her bud. Her legs twisted. She pulled his head harder, urging him on.

Then her hand slipped behind his neck, touching the nape of his back, sliding under his T-shirt, tugging it upward.

His shirt fell discarded. She ran her hands over his back.

He leaned forward, cautiously lowering his sweatpants slightly, then took her hand and gently rubbed it against the floor—then slowly, so slowly, guided it between his legs.

Led by his touch, she grasped something hot and firm. Her eyes snapped open.

Realizing resistance was futile, she exhaled deeply.

“Daniel Park… wait. Wait a sec. Okay?”

He froze, looking down at her.

She lay there, still holding him, then smiled faintly and sat up.

Startled, he scrambled to pull up his pants, embarrassed, head bowed.

“Daniel Park, look at me.”

“…”

“I mean… I know what you’re thinking. But I’m scared. And I…”

She trailed off, staring not at his face—but at his still-half-exposed, rigid length.

“Instead…”

She pulled her body closer to him and took hold of his hardness.

Her soft grip began moving slowly back and forth. With one hand, she swept her disheveled hair aside, then slowly lowered her head toward his center.

The moment her warm breath hit him, he twitched and swelled. Then she pursed her lips and pressed them against him.

With each stroke, the tip glistened, emerging fuller, and she teased it with the tip of her tongue.

Sitting awkwardly, Daniel Park groaned, then collapsed sideways onto the floor. She finished pulling down his pants, straddled his legs, and bent over, bobbing her head up and down.

Propped halfway up, he reached down, placing his palms over her exposed breasts.

Each movement sent little jolts through his hands. With his cock in her mouth, she began emitting soft moans.

She caressed his thighs with both hands. Under her touch, his legs spread wide—then lifted off the floor, knees bent, hips raised.

She supported his ass, lifting him slightly, then flicked her tongue against his sensitive sac. He jerked, letting out a thin moan.

His body tensed, swelling further. She brought his thighs together, then climbed on top, curling her hand tightly around his shaft and jerking rapidly.

As she straddled him, her skirt riding up, he felt the texture of her panties against his legs. Then warmth—dampness—spread over his knees.

The wetter and warmer it became, the faster she moved. He clenched his knees, pressing against her soaked fabric.

Each time he thrust upward, she shivered and sped her hand. His face flushed deep red, brows knitted, toes curling inward, inner thighs tensing—blue veins standing out sharply.

With a guttural cry, his back arched like a bow, and thick white fluid erupted.

The heat intensified. Unconcerned about mess, she continued stroking, milking every last drop.

They lay still, breathing heavily, suspended in silence—until she finally rose.

“There’s a towel outside, right? Daniel Park!”

He nodded without sitting up.

Lingering not emptiness, but longing, he remained naked on the floor. She returned with a damp towel, smiling down at him.

He reached out, touching her leg. She didn’t resist, sitting beside him and gently wiping his spent body clean.

His hand drifted to the inside of her knee, then further, stroking her thigh. She only smiled back.

Perhaps she believed he couldn’t go again—so she let him touch freely.

As his hand crept higher, she subtly opened her legs. He reached the soaked front of her panties.

His fingertip brushed the fabric. She flinched slightly, eyes flickering, but still smiled.

He stroked her thigh, then slipped a finger beneath the damp cloth, touching her core.

She gasped softly, still gripping his softened length, her wetness soaking his finger. She squeezed him tighter.

“Ah… ah…”

Still lying down, he used one hand to push up her skirt, trying to slide her panties off. She shook her head—no.

But her body betrayed her will, rising instinctively. He easily pulled them down.

“I hate you, Daniel Park.”

As he removed them, she sat fully, drawing one leg aside to help the panties slip off completely. Then, positioning herself just so—knees together, then slightly parted—she offered herself to his gaze.

Beneath her dark skirt, her folds glistened, lush and thick.

His fingertips grazed the soft curls. He gently rubbed her clit, watching her face.

Stroking her bud left and right, he tapped his middle finger against her slick entrance.

Softly, her folds opened, welcoming his touch. The hand that had held his shaft fell back as she toppled backward.

He sat up, pulled off her remaining skirt, spread her legs wide, and gazed at her bare mound.

“Beautiful.”

Brushing through her curls, he whispered the word, leaned down, and kissed her clit—sucking deeply.

Her bud disappeared into his lips. Her slit rounded, glistening with clear dew.

He licked upward, slowly tracing her folds, then looked up at her.

His eyes burned with desire. As she grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep kiss, his hardening length nudged against her entrance.

In one swift motion, like the moon rising, like a volcano erupting—he plunged deep inside her.

She wrapped her entire body around him, clinging desperately.

Bracing his hands on the floor, he began rocking his hips. She matched his rhythm, her walls fluttering—opening, closing—clutching him tightly.

His body arched like waves, rising and falling. She braced herself with her palms, then clutched his neck repeatedly.

Neither led. Both moaned in unison.

Inside her, his shrinking length stirred regret; her entrance fluttered open and shut, refusing to let go. He never stopped moving.

Finally, they collapsed, side by side, staring at the ceiling. They gently clasped hands, turned, met each other’s eyes—and kissed again.

Through the open window above them, morning sunlight poured in.