The moment the taxi drew up to his house, he paid hurriedly and got out. He rushed in, and raced up the stairs to her apartment. He opened her door, and found her sleeping safely – contrary to his fears.
He approached her bed carefully. On the bedside table was a note, a pill and a glass of water.
The note read: Take the medicine when you wake up. Hangovers are bad for your health – Yoon Hyun-min.
Winter frowned at the note. Yoon Hyun-min? Was that Kevin’s Korean name?
While he was focused on the note, Yira moaned in her sleep, arresting his attention.
Her face was glowing, even in the dark. Her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed and her pink lips were parted. His gaze crawled down her small jaw, slender neckline to her collarbones. He swallowed drily.
He had spent many nights in the past twenty years (Zuben: From the age of nine? Drink!) drinking with Yira, but he had never felt so strange as he did tonight. Yira turned in her sleep, and pushed away the blanket revealing her lush body under her dishevelled clothes. He could see her breasts through the slightly parted blouse, and her thighs were exposed under the curled up skirt.
‘I think you’ve gone crazy, Cha Gye-eul.’ He said to himself, as he felt himself hardening. He wanted to kiss those lips. He wanted to push into her tightness and feel her squeeze around him. He wanted that intense pleasure.
Without realising it, he was leaning closer to her.
He kissed her lightly, and was instantly hazy with the scent of soju mixed with her sweetness (Zuben: Shayo!) He had to stop himself but his desire was suddenly overwhelming. He pulled on the remnants of his rapidly fading reason.
Yira tossed again, waking him up. He quickly covered her with her duvet and left, not trusting himself to stay any second longer. He went down the stairs to his own apartment like the hounds of hell were after him. He lay on his bed and covered his face with his hands. He was still hard. He could still remember the feeling of her lips again his. He could still remember the thrilling sensation of kissing her, and the enchanting pleasure of having sex with her.
Gye-eul groaned. He was throbbing. His body was craving that pleasure.
Shit. Was he going to have to masturbate? Something he didn’t even do as a teenager? (Zuben: Get the lotion out.)
Gye-eul sighed as he looked down at his raised trouser front. His body, now that it had known real pleasure, was needy.
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