Chapter 1 — The Younger Woman I Loved — My Boss's Wife

"Damn... this is awkward. What should I do?"

I gripped the steering wheel, lost in thought. David Park had called me on the way back from a client meeting, asking me to drop by his place and pick up a bundle of photos he'd left behind for a project.

Under normal circumstances, going to the boss's house wouldn't have been a problem. But now? After what happened with his wife? It felt... complicated.

Two months ago, we'd had a team dinner at David Park's place—technically a housewarming. Eight of us from the department crammed into his home.

It was my first time seeing the inside of his house, and when I met his wife, I was stunned.

David Park was well into his late forties, but the woman who greeted us—his wife—looked barely in her mid-thirties. Almost my age.

Daniel Kim, the section chief who came with me, noticed my surprise and leaned in.

"You didn't know? David Park lost his first wife in a car accident four years ago. He remarried last year. Didn't have a formal wedding, so I guess you wouldn't have heard."

Daniel Kim had lived in the same neighborhood as David Park until two months ago, so he knew the family situation better than most.

I couldn't help but think the old man had hit the jackpot—snagging such a young, vibrant woman at his age.

She was about 170 cm tall, slim but with curves in all the right places. I couldn't imagine what kind of circumstances had led her to marry a middle-aged man like him. She was far too radiant, too alive, for someone tied to a man past his prime.

She wore a silky house dress, bustling around the kitchen, preparing food without pause.

We started eating and drinking, and as the night wore on, the alcohol flowed. By 11 p.m., everyone except Daniel Kim, David Park, and me had quietly slipped out.

The three of us cracked open another bottle of whiskey and kept talking.

"Madam... come join us. Just one drink?"

I felt bad seeing her constantly darting between the kitchen and dining table. I gently pulled her over, poured her a glass. She protested at first, saying she couldn't drink, but after Daniel Kim and I insisted, she took small sips.

Up close, she was even more beautiful. Even with David Park sitting right there, I couldn't help but notice her mature, sensual figure. The way her body moved beneath that house dress—it made my blood heat.

Damn it... even an old man like him gets to hold a woman like that. What the hell do I have? This world is so damn unfair.

I stole glances at her, lost in my own bitter thoughts.

By midnight, David Park and Daniel Kim were nearly passed out. I was drunk too, but not enough to sleep it off here.

Daniel Kim, whose home was far, decided to stay over. David Park offered me the same, but I declined.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to go to the red-light district, find someone—anyone—who looked like her, and lose myself for the night.

But as I stood outside waiting for a taxi, I'd left my wallet behind.

I must've taken it out during a quick game of Go-Stop earlier and forgotten to bring it with me.

No wallet meant no money—no way to pay for a woman, no way to even get home. I had no choice but to go back.

"Ugh... nothing's going right. Everyone's probably asleep... what now?"

Standing in front of the door, I reached for the doorbell—but on impulse, I turned the knob.

It opened.

I must've forgotten to lock it when I left earlier.

I stepped inside. Then—

Crash.

A loud clatter. The wife had been startled by my entrance and dropped a tray of glasses and bottles she was clearing from the dining table.

She looked up, flustered.

"Oh! Eric Lee? What are you doing here? You scared me!"

"Are you hurt? I'm so sorry—I forgot my wallet."

I knelt down, scanning the broken glass, checking her hands and feet. Then I saw it—blood on her foot.

"Wait—there's blood! Did glass get stuck in your foot?"

It looked like a shard had pierced the sole. She winced.

"Ah... it's fine. Just a small cut..."

"No, we need to clean this. Should I wake David Park?"

"No!" she said quickly. "He's completely passed out. Both of you are sleeping like logs. He won't wake up."

She sat on the floor, trying to pull the glass out herself, but her face twisted in pain.

"You'll make it worse. Let me see."

She couldn't see her own foot—someone else had to do it.

Reluctantly, she extended her foot toward me.

I wiped the blood with a tissue and examined the sole. A small piece of glass was embedded. I could pull it out.

But I was drunk. And I wanted to touch her more.

Pretending to inspect carefully, I pressed my fingers into random spots.

"Can't see it... where does it hurt? Here? Here?"

Each time I pressed, she flinched.

"No... not there... Ah! The other side... Ah, gently... it hurts..."

Every time she twisted in pain, the hem of her house dress rode up slightly, revealing flashes of her legs, the curve of her thighs.

Something about it—something sacred, almost.

To my drunken eyes, those fleeting glimpses were mesmerizing.

"It must hurt a lot. Here—drink this. It'll numb the pain."

I poured leftover whiskey into a glass and handed it to her.

She looked like she couldn't take the pain anymore. She downed it in one gulp.

I poured another.

"Better?"

Her face was flushed, her words slurring.

"Y-yes... the pain's... fading..."

Two shots of 40% alcohol—no wonder she was stumbling over her words.

She was probably numb to the pain, but also slipping into a drunken haze.

She leaned back, arms behind her, face still contorted, breathing heavily.

"Just wait... I think I see it now. Let me try again."

I leaned closer to her foot, but my eyes were fixed on the bottom of her dress.

Her legs had spread slightly, relaxed by the alcohol. Now I could see her thighs clearly. Then, slowly, the edge of her panties came into view.

She panted, her arms wobbling as she leaned back.

That's when I lost control.

I grabbed her upper body, pushed her down onto the floor, and kissed her.

She gasped—"Mmmph...!"—and resisted at first, but then, maybe because of the alcohol, her lips parted.

I slipped my tongue inside.

Her tongue darted away at first, but soon it was caught in mine, surrendering.

I moved my hand to her pussy, rubbing hard through the fabric.

She writhed, trying to escape, but she couldn't push me off—I was a man, drunk and desperate.

I slid my hand lower, trying to pull her dress up from underneath.

But she grabbed the fabric, resisting fiercely.

For a second, I thought about just slapping her and forcing my way in.

But even drunk, I knew that wasn't right.

I gave up and moved my hands to her breasts.

Soft, full—perfect mounds filled my palms.

I wanted to rip the dress open. I wanted to suck those breasts raw.

I broke the kiss, sat up, and gripped the sides of her dress.

Then—thud—I was suddenly shoved backward, landing hard on my ass.

Slap.

A sharp sting on my cheek.

"Why are you doing this? How dare you! Even if you're drunk, this is unforgivable! Get out!"

She slapped me again, then burst into tears.

I felt ashamed.

With any other woman, I might've forced it—pushed through to the end. But not her. Not with her.

"I'm sorry... I was drunk. I mean... I like you. I made a mistake..."

"Enough! Just go. Please... just go."

She shoved my hand away when I tried to comfort her.

Then, from down the hall—

"Hey... what's going on? Why's it so loud? What happened?"

David Park's groggy voice.

"Nothing! I just dropped something. Go back to sleep."

She quickly pushed me out, slammed the door behind me—no forgiveness, no goodbye.

I just stood there, hollow, staring at the closed door.

That was three months ago.

The next day, I thought about apologizing, but the image of her furious, tear-streaked face stopped me.

I never said a word.

She never told David Park—at least, not that I could tell. He treated me the same as always.

And now? Today, he sent me back to his house on an errand.

Here I was, standing in front of his door, unsure what to do.

I reached the 12th floor.

His apartment was at the end of a long corridor.

I walked slowly toward it.

Then—the door opened.

A man and woman stepped out.

The woman was David Park's wife.

I instinctively ducked behind a pillar.

"Be careful, okay? Come quickly when I call later. Promise?"

"Got it. Don't pamper that old man too much. Think of me. Take care."

The man playfully slapped her ass, then turned and walked toward me.

The door closed behind them.

I glanced at the guy as he passed—mid-twenties, rough around the edges, the kind who looked like he lived off charm and luck.

I understood everything in an instant.

The guilt I'd carried for months? It turned to rage.

I marched to the door and rang the bell.

"Who is it? Just a second..."

She opened the door.

When she saw me, her face froze—panic flashed in her eyes.

"Hello. David Park asked me to pick up some photos he left at home."

"Oh... yes, come in."

She forced a smile, hiding her shock as she let me in.

"Would you like something to drink? It might take a minute to find the photos..."

"Coffee, if you have it. Cold, if possible."

She went to the kitchen to make it.

I looked around.

The air smelled faintly of cigarette smoke—someone had been here recently. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Inside, the bed was messy, sheets tangled.

She brought me iced coffee and headed toward the study.

"So... someone just left, huh?"

I took a sip, then dropped the words like a stone.

She froze mid-step, then turned.

"Oh... yes. My younger brother. He just stopped by to run an errand."

"Ah. You two are close. Saw him patting your ass when you said goodbye."

She spun around. Her face went pale.

"What are you talking about? That's not—"

"I heard you two talking as I came up. Sounded more like lovers than siblings. But sure, I'll tell David Park his brother-in-law stopped by."

She walked back toward me, voice urgent.

"No... it wasn't my brother. It was a junior from school. I said 'brother' because I didn't want you to misunderstand. He just dropped by for a moment."

I drained my coffee, my voice sharp.

"So you played around on that bed with your 'junior'?"

Her face turned ghostly. She looked from me to the bedroom, then back.

"No... Eric Lee, you're misunderstanding. I mean—"

She stammered, then stopped. Stared at me. Then, slowly, her expression changed.

She walked over and sat beside me.

"You really misunderstand me. I'm hurt. I thought... you liked me. And now you think the worst of me?"

This woman... she wasn't ordinary. I looked at her sitting so close, so calm.

"If there's a misunderstanding, let's clear it up. Can I pour you a drink?"

She went to the study, came back with a bottle of 21-year-old Johnnie Walker, and poured me a glass.

"Drink up. Clear the air. Okay?"

I downed half the glass in one gulp.

She leaned closer, her shoulder brushing mine.

"Clear it up. He's just a junior. That's all. You believe me, right?"

"I understand. It's hard—being young, married to an older man. But bringing another man into your home? That's too much."

She took my hand, stroking it gently.

"I'm glad you understand... Please, let's just forget this."

I pulled my hand away.

"What exactly did you do with that young guy?"

"If you keep talking like this, I'll get angry. I'll cry."

She fake-pouted, then buried her face in my chest.

Instantly, I caught the scent of lilac—fresh, like she'd just washed her hair.

I wrapped my arm around her waist.

Her body was flawless—tight, smooth, perfect in my grip.

She looked up at me, eyes wide.

"Let it go. Forget everything. Okay?"

I kissed her.

This time, her lips didn't resist.

Her tongue didn't flee. It met mine, wrapped around it, warm and willing.

And suddenly, I remembered how she'd acted that night—so innocent, so shocked. All an act.

"Go stand over there."

I broke the kiss, voice low.

She stayed in my arms, staring.

"What? Why, Eric Lee... why?"

"Go stand there. Or I walk out now."

I shifted as if to stand. She jumped up and moved to the window.

"Fine... I'll stand. Please... sit."

The blinds were closed, but sunlight seeped through, outlining her body.

Through the fabric, her naked form seemed to glow.

"Take it off."

She hesitated, then, as if accepting her fate, unzipped the back of her dress.

It slid down her body.

Beneath—strapless bra, matching panties.

And beneath that—her body was even more perfect than I'd imagined.

Long neck. Full, round breasts. Narrow waist. Legs that went on forever.

She stood, arms crossed over her chest.

I stood, walked to her, and kissed her neck.

She was tense.

My lips moved to her shoulders, then to her breasts.

Her hands gently pulled my head closer.

"Ah... Eric Lee... if you do this... if you... Ahhh..."

With practiced hands, I unhooked her bra and took her breast in my mouth, sucking hard.

Her grip on my head tightened.

I moved down—belly button, then to her panties.

I dropped to my knees, spread her legs, and began licking the outline of her pussy through the fabric.

She trembled, fingers running through my hair.

"Ah... ahh... Eric Lee... it's... it's suffocating... take them off... please... ah... ah..."

She reached for her panties, trying to pull them down.

I grabbed her hands, pinned them, and pressed harder with my tongue.

Her wetness began to soak through.

I licked faster, greedier, drinking in every drop.

"Ah... you bastard... what... what are you doing to me... haa... I can't... I'm going crazy..."

I lifted her, threw her onto the bed—already messy from earlier.

Her firm breasts bounced. Her soaked panties clung to her, glistening.

I stripped off my clothes.

My cock sprang free, hard and eager.

She looked at it, then sat up, knelt, and took it into her mouth.

Slurp...

I pulled her off, flipped her onto her back, and thrust inside.

She gasped, eyes wide, then matched my rhythm, her body rocking with mine.

"Ah! Ah! Eric Lee... too... too good..."

An hour of relentless fucking later, we showered together.

I returned to the office.

When I handed the photo bundle to David Park, he said:

"Damn, I was worried something happened. Did my wife help you find it?"

"Yes, sir. Even treated me to a drink. She's very... attentive."

"Heh. What can I say..."

I sat at my desk, thinking of her.

Yeah. Deep thinker. And damn, was she deep. So deep I couldn't even find the end. Mmm...