8 #2
“My puppy, don’t you want to be owned?”
“Are you playing with me?” He looked suddenly furious.
“I’m teasing you, Elder George. You’re adorable, and I thought you’d understand that this was for fun.
Elder, you and I are sinning in the eyes of the Lord.
I want us to be close friends. I need a friend.
I think you need one, too. We can be less lonely.
Now and then, we should hold each other for warmth when the world is cold. ”
He looked confused.
“But not too close. Not too often. I shouldn’t have agreed to come today, but you asked so nicely, and I’ve always thought you were fine-looking.
” She had slept with many men for money or information, and rarely had they been as beautiful as Shin, but George was very attractive.
If Danbi had a weakness, it was that she liked fucking too much, and she preferred the men to be handsome.
Danbi got up and approached him, observing his quiet eyes.
She looked up at his face with both adoration and amusement.
Danbi hung both her slim arms behind his neck and wrapped her legs around him, and George did what every man his strength and size did when she made this move.
He lifted her and carried her to the bed, believing he’d won a trophy.
“My darling puppy,” she said, removing his khakis and kissing his cock deeply. From her purse, she took out a condom, and she covered him with her hands. “We have to be careful. I’m still young enough to have your baby.”
George’s eyes focused. His wife Sobin was forty-two, and he remembered that Danbi was maybe thirty-six. He could not control himself, seeing the wildness in her eyes. She wanted this to be difficult. In her flirting, she was pushing him toward the edge.
“I didn’t mean to laugh.”
He covered her mouth with his to make her shut up, but she pushed him off.
“You cannot leave your marriage. That would make what we’re doing so, so much worse.” She watched to see his reaction, and she knew he was upset with her.
He wasn’t a talker during sex, but she didn’t care. He had long, powerful arms and legs much like Shin’s, but George was more youthful, and it had been a while since she’d been with a man only a decade older, not needing to worry about a heart attack or stroke.
For fun, she breathed a little louder, noticing that he followed her movements and gestures, so she made more noise, which made him crazy. Normally it was easy to know what a man wanted, and on the thick hotel mattress, she could tell he was fighting for control.
This sex felt different from what they’d done at church because he was no longer surprised by her forwardness. He was still angry with her because she had laughed at him, and he was using the kind of force men used when they thought it was the last time.
When they were done, Danbi said nothing and went to the desk to get the menu. She picked up the phone.
“My husband and I have American breakfast. Yes, two. Toast white. Yes, coffee,” she said in English, and listened to the woman repeating her order back to her.
Danbi put on her dress and cardigan and sat with her legs beneath her on the sofa. George was still sulking in bed.
She hated it when men got like this so early on in the relationship.
In the church conference room, they’d barely spoken afterward, and he had tried to kiss her, but she’d begged off and left him, promising to see him another time if he wanted.
She sensed that he had interpreted her rapid departure as a kind of shame or shyness, believing that she had long been in love with him.
They had known each other on the Nominating Committee and joked privately often enough.
He had been flirting with her, and when she made her move, George had believed that she was as lonely in her marriage as he was in his.
For George, her propositioning had been a kind of confession. It would never occur to him that she was seducing him like a man, or, worse, for a lay.
When the breakfast arrived, she took the cart and closed the door. She wheeled it to the bed, where George was sitting up, his lower body covered by a white sheet.
Danbi picked up a piece of bacon and fed him. He chewed it slowly, still not saying anything. She placed a fried egg on a toast triangle and put it near his lips so he could take a bite.
George shook his head.
“Be a good baby and eat,” she said, pleading. “I don’t want to eat alone.”
Turning to the cart beside the lamp table, George poured her a cup of coffee, then one for himself.
“Thank you,” she said, then asked, “How many women have you been with, Elder George?”
He considered his answer and exhaled.
“Three,” George said at last. “Danbi-shi,” he said, never having addressed her by her first name before. “I misunderstood this. How embarrassing,” he said, looking sober.
“Don’t be like that, please,” she said, and looked at her watch.
George crossed his arms against his wide, muscular chest.
Danbi put aside her plate. Fully dressed, she climbed into the bed beside him and placed her head on his shoulder. George could smell the clean scent of her balsam shampoo and the orange blossom lotion on her skin. She put her hands on him, and he closed his eyes.
“It would mean so much to me if you and I can keep being friends. In secret. I want your protection,” she said, glancing up at his jaw and then kissing his chin, nose, and lips.
Slowly, George unfolded his arms.