Chapter Text
The brief October sun had long set into a nighttime blackness, making it seem later than it is. People rush from one pool of electric light to the next - getting dinner, leaving work after a long shift, gathering for the first drink of the night. Inside the bookshop, it’s quiet and still, the books unmoving on their shelves or in piles carefully tucked out of sight, waiting for Yoonji to sort them. Yoonji likes these quiet nights alone with only occasional customers interrupting her work. That’s why she takes the later shifts, while Namjoo and Jimin work the busiest part of the day. They deal with the bulk of the customers, leaving Yoonji the evenings to sort through new acquisitions and records in peace - both necessary to keep the shop afloat.
Today, when Yoonji had arrived, business had already slowed, Namjoo and Jimin free to huddle together at the front counter, giggling over one of the dusty old books that was never going to sell. Yoonji had rolled her eyes at them on her way to hang her coat and bag in the crowded back room. By the time she’d returned, the hilarity had passed. Namjoo had reported a good day of sales while Jimin had fussed over her bangs in her phone camera, preparing for whatever night out she had planned.
Yoonji had accepted the news of a good day happily - every sale was important to their business, still relatively new. She and Namjoo had sunk every bit of money they’d saved over the years, (not to mention whatever credit the banks would give them), into their dream of owning their own bookstore. Even though things have been stable recently, every good day is a relief.
After Namjoo and Jimin had gone, Yoonji found they’d left the book they’d been giggling over out on the counter. It was next to one of the mugs from the back room, filled with some strange drink concoction. Without any customers to worry about, Yoonji had flipped through the pages idly. The book was a small, battered paperback, one of many from the lots of cheap, used books they bought in bulk. There were usually a handful of books worth selling in those lots, enough to make up the cost of the whole, but most were like this one - obscure for good reason, printed on yellowing, brittle paper, and not worth even the cost of a price sticker.
The majority of these books tended to be novels, failed first time authors, or old best sellers gone out of fashion, but this one was something else. At first, Yoonji had thought it was some sort of herbalists manual, but as she’d flipped through the pages, she’d found a sort of mysticism - spells and health tinctures mixed up with confused bits of folklore, all treated with utter seriousness. No wonder Jimin had been giggling.
After reading through a page that claims combining a strange series of ingredients will grant the maker insight into all the wild animals (whatever that means), Yoonji had peered into the mug filled with herbs and cloudy water. She wondered if the liquid was meant to be a spell. It certainly didn’t look very healthy and she hoped that neither Jimin nor Namjoo had drank from it. Where would they have even found herbs? Had one of them gone to the grocery store for this?
Yoonji had spent another couple of minutes flipping through the pages of the little paperback, attempting to figure out what they might have been trying to brew, but she couldn’t remember what page the book had been open to and most of the recipes seem like they’d produce a similar sort of sludge.
Giving up, she’d let the book fall closed, turning to the mess on the desk. As the book slid from her hand, a small sharp pain bloomed. A paper cut. Yoonji had sucked on her thumb, rueful as the copper taste of blood washed over her tongue. Paper cuts were an inevitable hazard of the job. In general, Yoonji does better than Namjoo, who always seemed to have at least one bandaged finger, but not so well as Jimin who seemed somehow immune.
The cut didn’t seem to want to stop bleeding immediately, so Yoonji had used her other hand to put the book where it belonged, on a stack next to the counter of other unpriced and unlikely to sell volumes. Then she’d turned her attention to the mess that Jimin and Namjoo had left. They’d had the sense to put a piece of newspaper down under the mug, but the paper is covered in crumbled herbs and what looks like a small branch taken from one of the trees outside. Dried ripples in the paper show where the creative process had splashed over.
The blood was slowing, so Yoonji had risked gathering up all the crap, trying to fold it into the crinkling newspaper without bleeding on it. The branch, although small, made the whole thing unwieldy and she’d struggled to carry it all along with the mug, but in the end she’d made it to the back room without leaving a trail of herbs or potion or blood.
It wasn’t until after Yoonji had dumped the trash in the bin and went to rinse the mug in the bathroom sink that she’d realized she’d managed to dip her bleeding thumb right in the murky water, leaving a watery bloody streak on the inside of the cup. Yoonji had grimaced, torn between feeling she should know what she’d just immersed an open wound in and desperately not wanting to know.
She’d washed the remainder of the concoction down the sink, rinsed the mug in the hottest water she could get the pipes to produce, scrubbed it out twice, and then left it to soak. Then she’d carefully disinfected her thumb and bandaged it.
When Yoonji slipped back into the front of the store, a couple of customers had gathered, looking confused and alone. She’d rushed over with her best customer service smile. As she helped them pick out some books for a niece, another customer arrived.
The evening had passed like that, a few people wandering in and long stretches of silent reorganizing in between. Yoonji and Namjoo have been going back and forth on how late to keep the store open, weighing the few customers they catch against the cost of staffing, but for the moment, Yoonji is the only one working the late hours, so the cost is only her own sleep schedule.
Tonight, both the customers and the tasks that need doing had trickled away. After nearly a full uninterrupted hour, Yoonji begins to think idly about closing early. But as she’s thinking it, thirty minutes before scheduled closing, a young man in a nice suit and expensive looking coat comes in.
He smiles at her as the door closes behind him, the smile warming his otherwise serious features. Yoonji nods at him and goes back to the spreadsheet she’s been tweaking. It’s her habit to let the customers browse in peace unless they obviously want her help, but after only a minute or two of looking at the books, the man comes over to the counter. He smiles again, tilting his chin down as if he’s a little shy. It makes it seem almost like he’s looking up at her, even though he’s significantly taller than Yoonji. A piece of his thick, wavy hair falls over one eye like something out of a fashion ad or the movies. Yoonji thinks it must be intentional, he must know how he looks. Too bad for him that Yoonji is his audience. Jimin should be here, she would appreciate the view.
Yoonji gives him a perfunctory, polite smile. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for something good to read,” he says, voice deep and soft.
Yoonji wants to roll her eyes at how vague that is, but she just nods pleasantly. “Fiction or nonfiction?”
He thinks about it seriously, which Yoonji finds a little strange. She supposes he must have just stumbled across the store and decided to come in on a whim. “Fiction,” he says, finally.
Yoonji nods again, trying to maintain a welcoming expression. “Do you have a type of fiction you enjoy? Or is there something particular you’re looking for?”
He thinks again. “I like books about people’s lives. Ordinary people.”
Still broad. Namjoo would probably be thrilled by the challenge, loading him down with more suggestions than a single person could read in a year. Yoonji just comes out from behind the counter and leads him over to the novels.
She points out a few popular books, but he’s read most of them, so she tries a little harder, going so far as to recommend some of her own favorites. He carefully listens to all of her recommendations, all wide eyes and focused attention. It feels somehow like he’s very close to her, even though he’s standing a perfectly normal, perfectly polite distance away.
Yoonji is happy when he finally seems content with his selections and brings them over to the register. She steps gratefully behind the desk, glad to have it between her and his intense regard.
He doesn’t seem to notice her relief, leaning on the counter and watching her while she’s ringing up his purchases. “You know so many books.” His voice is sweet and earnest. “It’s very impressive.”
Yoonji ignores that, eager to get him out the door. He’s not being rude, he’s not doing anything over the line, but he is making it obvious that he’s interested. Yoonji doesn’t want to have to turn him down directly, doesn’t want to find out if his politeness will evaporate with his hopes.
As Yoonji scans the last book, the bell on the door rings, announcing another customer. Yoonji feels a rush of relief when she sees that it’s Yeongmi, the ajumma that runs the coffee shop next door. Yeongmi is carrying a little paper bag that no doubt contains a stale pastry. She and Yoonji have a standing deal, Yeongmi brings Yoonji one of the sweet things left over at the end of the night and, in exchange, Yoonji lets her borrow freely from their selection of worn romance novels.
Yoonji smiles warmly, even more pleased to see Yeongmi than usual. “Unnie!”
Yeongmi rolls her eyes at Yoonji, “What unnie?” she protests as she hands Yoonji the pastry, but her return smile is flattered, just as it always is.
Yoonji thinks Yeongmi underestimates her own appeal. Sure, she’s older, laugh lines wreathing her face, and body plump with the after effects of the three children she’d born and raised. And sure, she tends to dress in an old fashioned, conservative style, long skirts and thick knit sweaters, but that doesn’t mean she’s not pretty in her own motherly way. Her long hair, her only vanity, is barely gray at all, and her crooked smile is as charming as it surely was when she was young. Her husband must not be doing a good job of telling her these things, so it’s a good thing Yoonji is here to pick up the slack.
Yoonji peeks in the bag and is delighted to find her favorite cream bun. “Thank you, unnie.” She puts it down on the counter and bends down to drag out a box that she’d stashed behind the desk earlier. “Here, we just got a new batch in.”
Yeongmi smiles her pretty smile at Yoonji and Yoonji smiles back, pushing the box closer. “I’ll get out of your way,” Yeongmi says, stepping around the box and looking back at-
Oh. The customer. Yoonji belatedly remembers him.
He doesn’t seem annoyed, but Yoonji imagines what Jimin would say if she’d seen Yoonji flirting with Yeongmi instead of taking care of a paying customer. “Sorry about that.” Yoonji apologizes, offering him a polite customer service smile.
As Yoonji rushes through the rest of his transaction, his gaze shifts between her and Yeongmi. She thinks he’s figured out exactly why Yoonji wasn’t interested in his flirting. Yoonji counts out his change, braced for an unpleasant reaction. It’s a modern neighborhood, one she and Namjoo had selected precisely for that reason, but one never knows, especially when male ego is at stake. However, the customer only looks thoughtful as he takes his change and gathers his books. He thanks her and leaves without any further comment.
Yoonji stops thinking about him almost before the door shuts behind him, more interested in the pastry and in hearing about Yeongmi’s day. Yeongmi takes her time picking out two tattered romances and Yoonji closes the store for the night while they talk.
#
Yoonji has the next two days off. She does all the practical things the first day, grocery shopping, cooking ahead, laundry. She spends a pleasant afternoon, stock bubbling on the stove, laundry drying by her open window, reading a thick novel on the couch, wrapped in a blanket against the chilly autumn breeze blowing in the open window.
That night she goes out with friends and drinks and laughs. She casually flirts with her friend’s older sister, out for the first time after a bad divorce and in need of someone to make her smile, and remind her that she's still beautiful no matter what her ex-husband had to say on the matter. Yoonji has a good time and maybe one too many good drinks, the lights in the bar glittering bright and red in the corners of her eyes.
The next day, Yoonji sleeps late to make up for the drinking, warm and comfortable under the duvet until lunch. In the afternoon, she doesn’t bother to change out of her sleep clothes, lounging comfortably on the couch while she makes further progress on the novel. She falls asleep again a few chapters in and dreams something she can’t remember. It must have been erotic though, because she wakes up overheated with a warm, wet ache between her legs.
Yoonji stretches, feeling the mix of pleasant sleepiness and arousal running through her muscles. She slips a hand into her pajama pants and lazily circles her clit, thinking idly about the night before. The sexy bartender, with the tattoo that trailed down her sternum, Yoonji’s friend who was also an ex, still sexy even if their relationship has faded into casual friendship, her other friend’s older sister.
Yoonji lingers there for a moment, imagining that her friend’s sister had been more than flattered by Yoonji’s interest, that her faint blush had deepened into a deeper flush of desire. That she’d pulled Yoonji into a corner and let Yoonji kiss her, that she’d found she liked being kissed by a woman. The fantasy fractures there, little snippets that never quite coalesce into a whole - frantic sex in the club bathroom morphing into slower sex in a bed and then back to grinding against each other in the corner of the club where anyone could see.
The bits and pieces build together with the pure physical sensation of her own fingers, and Yoonji comes as the sun sets, warm and red through her closed eyelids.
She drifts a little after that, half asleep and half awake, considering just going to bed, but she makes herself get up and take a shower, wash her hair and have dinner. Afterward, she’s alert, too rested after all her napping to fall asleep again, and she ends up awake far too late, watching old films on her computer.
#
The next day, Yoonji’s shift at the bookstore is even slower than the one before, a few people at first, then less and less as the night goes on. Time crawls. Thirty minutes before Yoonji plans on closing, the door chimes. Tonight, Yoonji knows it’s not Yeongmi, who had already been by earlier. Yoonji had finished the slightly stale red bean bun Yeongmi had brought over two hours ago, an hour before the last of the customers so far had been and gone - an older couple, a little drunk and looking for a book of love poems.
Yoonji looks up and her heart skips a beat in her chest.
The woman who comes in is dressed demurely, heavy layers for the chilly fall weather, long wool skirt covered by a bulky cardigan over another sweater. The clothes do nothing to hide how beautiful she is - tall with a lovely face, big, dark eyes, a full mouth, and long, thick hair tied back in a ponytail. She’s enchanting, and, on top of that, there’s something vaguely familiar about her, something Yoonji feels like she should be able to place. But maybe it’s only that the woman looks like a model. Maybe she is a model.
Yoonji’s mouth feels dry.
The woman stops just inside the door. For a long moment, she and Yoonji just stare at each other, Yoonji frozen behind the counter, one finger serving as a bookmark in the novel that she’s almost finished.
“Hello,” the woman says in a soft, low voice.
Yoonji abruptly remembers that she’s at work. She puts her book aside. “Welcome. How can I help you?”
The woman smiles. There’s something pleased and privately amused in that smile, but then, women like that probably have many private reasons to be pleased and amused. “I’m looking for something good to read.”
Yoonji nods seriously. “Fiction or non-fiction?”
The woman takes a step closer. “I like to read about people. About all the lives I’ll never live.”
Yoonji nods again, thinking. First, she leads the woman to the history section - thick books on a past that neither of them could have known. Yoonji has always been a little fascinated by how people lived in the past, fascinated by the idea that somewhere beyond every place she walks there’s layers of history, different ways of living and of thinking separated only by time. However, the woman shakes her head at the history books. “I like personal stories best.”
With that information, Yoonji takes her over to the memoirs next. There, they have more success, finding a series of short essays from people in all walks of life, a long memoir from a famous author, and, as nonchalantly as Yoonji can manage, another collection of essays, this one from queer authors.
The beautiful woman takes them all, her fingers tracing the words on the cover of the last one. “What about fiction? Do you have any recommendations there?”
Yoonji finds her a collection of short stories, and three novels, two from up and coming authors and one older classic. The woman looks delighted by each of them, listening attentively to Yoonji’s brief explanations. “You know so many books.”
Yoonji’s face feels warm. “It’s my job.”
The woman smiles at Yoonji, a lovely warm smile that softens the otherwise overwhelming beauty of the woman’s face. “You’re good at it.” She takes a step closer to Yoonji. “What about you, what’s your favorite?”
“Ah,” Yoonji says, every nerve tingling with awareness of how close she is to the woman. “Um.” She turns to look at the shelf near them, trying to remember a book, any book, that she likes. Her eye catches on a volume. Feeling bold, she pulls it from the shelf. “There are too many good books for just one favorite, but…” She hands it to the woman. It’s a slim volume of poetry by a female poet, the poems sensual and queer. “It’s a little more abstract, but I like this one.”
The woman opens it, fingers long and elegant on the pages. She reads one of the short poems, her face impassive. Yoonji refuses to look down and see which one, she can’t handle knowing. But when the woman looks up, the sly curve of her lips is enough to tell Yoonji it couldn’t have been one of the few tame ones.
“Seems good,” the woman says, some dark amusement hidden in her simple words.
Yoonji feels warmer than ever, not just her face, but her throat, her chest, her back. Still, she manages, “Is there something else I can help you find?”
The woman puts her stack of books down on the floor and steps even closer to Yoonji, too close for polite distance. Yoonji feels frozen in place, like a deer faced with an impossibly hot wolf. “You’ve given me so many good recommendations. You should let me pay you back.”
“Um,” Yoonji says, moving suddenly from warm to hot, perspiration beading under her fuzzy sweater. “It’s my job. I should thank you for being such a good customer.”
The woman smiles at Yoonji, even more knowing than before. “Okay.”
And then she’s even closer, her heavy wool skirt brushing up against Yoonji’s jeans.
Yoonji should step back, should tell her that this is inappropriate, but Yoonji doesn’t. Instead, Yoonji lets the woman touch Yoonji’s jaw with her long, elegant fingers, lets her tilt Yoonji’s face up so that they are looking into each other’s eyes. Even that small brush of her fingers makes Yoonji shiver.
The woman is so beautiful, just as stunning from up close as afar. It doesn’t make any sense that there’s someone just out in the world looking like that. It makes even less sense that she’s touching Yoonji. But she is. She smiles at Yoonji again, still amused as if she can see how much even that simple touch is undoing Yoonji. Then she leans down and kisses Yoonji.
The kiss overwhelms Yoonji in a way that Yoonji has rarely felt in her life. It carries the euphoria and fear of her first kiss with a girl - a frantic confirmation of what Yoonji had long suspected about herself, stolen in a hagwon bathroom. The joyous hope of her first kiss with the woman who had become her first long term girlfriend - finally on the same page after pining for so long. The needful hunger of her first one-night stand - the culmination of weeks of trying to build up the courage to go home with some random woman.
It carries all of these things - euphoria, hope, hunger - but somehow without any of the lead up that had built to those moments, without the weight that had made them fraught. Instead, it’s a pure want, a desire that wipes all concerns from Yoonji’s mind, that leaves her clinging to the woman, needing only to be closer.
The woman leads the kiss and Yoonji is happy to follow, letting her in without hesitation, letting her kiss down Yoonji’s neck, and slip her hands under Yoonji’s fuzzy sweater, letting her touch Yoonji’s waist, pulling them close together.
Even close, their heavy winter clothing makes it difficult to feel much of the woman’s body, her two sweaters and the wool skirt in the way, not to mention Yoonji’s own sweater and jeans, but Yoonji follows anyway.
The woman finds the clasp of Yoonji’s bra under her sweater and expertly undoes it in an easy motion. She touches Yoonji’s side, slipping under the loosened cup, her hand big enough to cover Yoonji’s whole breast easily. Yoonji shivers against her, mouth falling open as the woman caresses Yoonji’s nipple.
The woman takes advantage, kissing Yoonji deeply as she moves to Yoonji’s other breast. It’s intoxicating. Yoonji feels overwhelmed, held close and undone by this stranger, even as the woman pulls her closer still, sliding one thigh between Yoonji’s own, a hand on Yoonji’s hip, urging Yoonji to rub against her.
There’s not much in it, Yoonji’s jeans and the thick wool of the woman’s skirt not allowing for anything but the most blunted pressure, but dizzy and warm, Yoonji grinds up against her anyway, following the woman’s lead without thought.
It feels better than Yoonji would have imagined. After only a little kissing and groping, Yoonji is more turned on than she would have expected. Everything about this encounter is like that, bigger and more thrilling than Yoonji is prepared for. Yoonji lets the woman guide her into rocking against the woman’s thigh, panting against the woman’s neck.
It all feels good, but it’s not enough to do anything more than make Yoonji desperate, her breath turning ragged against the woman’s throat, her fingers twisting uselessly in the back of the woman’s cardigan.
“Let me help,” the woman says in her low voice. Before Yoonji quite understands what’s happening, the woman has untangled herself from Yoonji, loosening Yoonji’s fingers from her cardigan and guiding Yoonji’s weight off herself so that she can slip away without unbalancing Yoonji. Just as quickly, she steps around Yoonji, pulling Yoonji back against herself, mouth on the nape of Yoonji’s neck. One hand is under Yoonji’s sweater again, cupping Yoonji’s breasts as if even a few seconds away was too many. With her other hand, she nimbly unbuttons and unzips Yoonji’s jeans, sliding into Yoonji’s panties.
Fuck.
Yoonji doesn’t even know this woman’s name, but she touches Yoonji like she’s done it a hundred times before, like Yoonji touches herself, exactly how Yoonji likes it. Yoonji goes from nowhere near coming to teetering on the edge so quickly that it leaves her dizzy. She can’t do anything but gasp for air and grind against the woman’s talented fingers.
The woman is wrapped around Yoonji, everywhere at once. Open mouthed kisses against Yoonji’s neck - just the perfect hint of roughness. A hand on Yoonji’s breasts - just the right touch of tenderness. Her fingers in Yoonji’s cunt - just the right amount of friction.
Yoonji is lost in it, her orgasm rolling closer and closer, turning her into a mindless desperate thing that can only push itself toward each sweet point of contact, body bowing back with all the strength left to her, trying to push her clit against the woman’s fingers, her breasts into the woman’s hand, and her neck closer to the woman’s mouth, all in one tense arch.
Under the onslaught of Yoonji’s need, the woman loses her perfect control, not strong enough to keep them from falling off balance. The woman’s back slams into the bookshelf behind them and Yoonji vaguely registers the sound of books crashing to the floor, but Yoonji doesn’t care. All that matters is that, with the help of the shelf, the woman keeps them on their feet, her arm tightening across Yoonji’s chest as they fall, fingers jolting in Yoonji’s cunt as they land against the shelf.
Yoonji moans at the impact and the woman laughs against her neck. “Come on,” she whispers, her fingers moving quickly against Yoonji’s clit. Yoonji can’t help but obey, orgasm sweeping over her as she clutches with both hands at the woman’s arm over her chest, head tilted back on the woman’s shoulder and mouth open on another moan.
The orgasm is as overwhelming as everything else about this night, Yoonji’s eyes squeezing shut against the bright red roar of it. Afterward, she feels weak, wrung out and dizzy in a way that normally takes more than one orgasm or even two. Yoonji isn’t sure she could stand if it wasn’t for the woman still holding her up. As it is, Yoonji guesses she’s not much more than a dead weight because the woman carefully kneels, bringing Yoonji down with her, so that they can sit on the floor, Yoonji still slumped back against the woman’s chest.
For a moment they rest there, Yoonji panting and dizzy, letting herself lean on this total stranger. But Yoonji can’t stay there forever, no matter how tired she feels. As soon as she has her breath back, Yoonji blinks away the black spots in her vision and turns.
Looking at her now, the woman is still beautiful beyond reckoning. Yoonji thought she might have overestimated it, but even with her lust sated, the woman is still stunning. More even, now that Yoonji is close enough to see the charming little beauty marks on her face, to realize that she’s not even wearing makeup. But the woman’s beauty isn’t enough to hide the sadness in her expression.
As soon as she realizes that Yoonji is looking at her, the woman smiles that warm smile. It’s almost enough to fool Yoonji, but now that she’s seen the sadness, Yoonji can’t unsee it. Yoonji can still find it lurking in the corners of the woman’s smile, in the shadows of her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Yoonji asks.
The woman blinks. “Shouldn’t I be asking you?”
Yoonji smiles at her. “I think you already know that I’m great.”
For some reason that makes the woman look even sadder. “Of course.”
Yoonji doesn’t know how to help. She doesn’t know this woman, doesn’t know what is making her sad. Yoonji offers the only thing she can. “Let me return the favor?”
The woman frowns a little, not sad now, but apparently confused. “You want to…”
Yoonji frowns too, equally confused and starting to be suspicious of this woman’s past lovers. “Of course I do.”
“Oh.” The woman thinks about it. “Well. Okay. If you feel up to it.”
Yoonji swallows a laugh. No matter how good this woman is, one orgasm and one bad night’s sleep is hardly enough to keep Yoonji from wanting to give this woman as much pleasure as she’d given Yoonji.
Yoonji kisses the woman, trying to convey how much Yoonji still wants her. The woman’s earlier confidence seems to have fled - it takes her a moment to return the kiss, and even then, she doesn’t seem to know quite how to respond. It’s as if she has no experience being the one pursued instead of the one pursuing, although Yoonji can’t believe that. Can’t believe no one has ever wanted to worship this woman the way she deserves.
And yet, the woman doesn’t lack desire, doesn’t seem unwilling once she’s begun, eagerness growing as the kiss turns deeper. When Yoonji pulls away after a few moments, the woman makes a soft, unhappy noise, hungry and a little whiney.
Yoonji smiles at the woman, more beautiful than ever with her kiss reddened mouth. “Why don’t you lay down?” Yoonji suggests.
The woman looks slightly puzzled, but does. She looks surprised, but more enlightened, when Yoonji reaches for the hem of her heavy skirt.
“Okay?” Yoonji asks.
The woman nods, reaching down to take the fabric from Yoonji. She lifts the skirt up to her waist and watches Yoonji with a strange intensity as Yoonji moves on, carefully sliding down the woman’s plain cotton panties.
Watching the woman in turn, Yoonji runs a hand up the woman’s leg, over her knee and then the inside her thigh, stopping just short of the thatch of black curls. The woman’s breath hitches and the muscle of her thigh tenses under Yoonji’s hand. “Okay?” Yoonji asks again.
The woman nods, still watching Yoonji with those big, dark eyes. Yoonji kneels between the woman’s legs and the woman makes room for Yoonji without hesitation, still holding the folds of her skirt up.
Simply for her own satisfaction, Yoonji reaches for the bottom of the woman’s sweater. As she opens her mouth to ask for permission, the woman pre-empts her, gathering the fabric by her own collarbone, exposing her chest. To Yoonji’s surprise and delight, the woman isn’t wearing a bra, revealing small breasts with full, dark nipples.
With her heavy clothes out of the way, it’s apparent that the woman is more slender than Yoonji had thought, almost skinny. Yoonji hadn’t been sure of the woman’s age before, but now Yoonji lowers her estimate down, definitely not older than Yoonji and almost certainly younger.
Yoonji leans up, kisses her red mouth and swollen lower lip once more, then down to bestow a kiss on each dark nipple, just enough to learn the feel of the pebbled skin and soft weight of each breast.
Yoonji skips over the woman’s stomach, hidden under the bunched fabric of her skirt and moves down, settling on her belly between the woman’s legs and pushing the fabric of her skirt up even higher so that Yoonji can kiss just above the curly black hair, and then at the juncture of the woman’s leg, and then down on the inside of one thin thigh. Each kiss earns Yoonji a slight wavering hitch of the woman’s breath, a hungry little rock of the woman’s hips.
Satisfied that she’s teased the nerves away, Yoonji turns to the woman’s cunt, admiring how wet and swollen she is already. The woman tastes good, and her eagerness is even better. At the first touch of Yoonji’s tongue, she exclaims, sounding almost shocked, “Oh!” Her vocal pleasure continues as Yoonji runs her tongue through the woman’s folds and around her swelling clit. “Oh! Oh!” as if each sensation is a new surprise.
As Yoonji turns her attention more seriously to the woman’s clit, the ‘ohs’ draw longer and longer until they turn to meaningless moans. Fuck, Yoonji loves this.
Yoonji has fun for a while, figuring out what the woman likes best, what brings her closest to the edge and then teasing a little by backing away before she can fall all the way over that cliff. Yoonji enjoys the way the woman’s hesitation melts away, her thighs squeezing tight around Yoonji, hips grinding up against Yoonji’s face. The moans break apart in a frantic staccato, not quite formed enough to be any word at all, not even a simple ‘oh’ as she gets closer, until she finally comes with a long, shaky gasp.
Yoonji works her through it and then asks, “Can you go again?”
The woman sounds dazed. “Again? I don’t- Maybe?”
“Well, let’s find out,” Yoonji says, thinking even less of this woman’s previous sexual partners.
They find, through the woman’s willingness and Yoonji’s devoted efforts, that the woman can come again. In fact, already swollen and sensitive, it doesn’t take much at all for Yoonji to get the woman off twice more with her mouth and fingers, each easy orgasm seeming to take the woman by surprise, as if she didn’t know her body could do this.
Yoonji thinks the woman could have gone even longer, but Yoonji, tired from the late night and growing increasingly aware of how hard the floor is, stops there. The woman doesn't seem displeased. In fact, she looks completely exhilarated, her mouth red and her eyes bright. Despite her own exhaustion, Yoonji feels pleased just looking at her.
Yoonji kisses the woman one more time, letting her eagerly taste herself in Yoonji’s mouth. Then, Yoonji staggers to her feet, helping the woman stand too. They take a moment there in the shelter of the bookshelves to fix their clothes. Only then does it fully occur to Yoonji that they are still in her store and, worse yet, the door is unlocked.
But when Yoonji hastily rushes out from the aisle, nothing seems out of place. There’s no sign that anyone had come in or sent the police to deal with public indecency.
The woman follows after Yoonji more calmly, holding the stack of books that Yoonji had recommended. After a beat, Yoonji takes a breath and reorients herself back into the role of salesperson, leading the woman back to the register.
As Yoonji rings up her purchases, the woman stoops down to the stack of unpriced books by the counter and adds one more to her collection - that strange little paperback with the recipes and spells.
“I’ll take this one,” she says, oddly pointed.
Yoonji doesn’t know why. “Are you into herbal remedies?” she asks, scanning the other books.
The woman laughs, a little bitter. “Maybe I want to do a spell like you.”
Yoonji looks up from the register, really puzzled now. “I don’t think I’ve ever done a spell in my life.”
At some point in the proceedings the woman’s hair had come out of her demure ponytail and it’s curling around her face now in wild tangles. “What?”
Yoonji shrugs. “Sorry, I’m more of a science person. I think my co-workers were messing around with this though. You can come back for the day shift if you want to talk to someone about it.”
The woman looks from the book to Yoonji. “What spell were they trying?”
“I don’t know.” Yoonji laughs, remembering. “I just know they made a mess here the other night.”
The woman smiles, looking distracted and distant. “I’ll have to be more careful then.”
She doesn’t seem to have anything else to say, so Yoonji turns back to ringing up the rest of her order. Pricing unpriced books is always tricky. There’s no price precisely because they hadn’t thought the book would sell at all, but now someone wants it, which changes things. Half the time, Yoonji just charges as much as she thinks she can get away with, and the other half, she picks some arbitrary nominal amount. Tonight, not thinking too much about why, Yoonji adds the book to the woman’s order for free.
As she hands the woman her receipt, Yoonji reminds herself that you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take. “Any chance you would be interested in…hanging out again? Maybe I could get your contact info. Or your name at least?”
The woman still looks distant, but eventually she says. “I’m Kim Tae…hee. Taehee. Don’t worry, I know where you work.”
Yoonji can see the sprawl of the books they’d knocked off the shelf over the woman’s shoulder, spread over the floor, waiting to be reshelved. Yep. Taehee definitely knows where Yoonji works. “Well, I’m Min Yoonji. I hope I get to see you again sometime.”
Kim Taehee looks sad again. “I’m sure you will, Min Yoonji.”