Chapter 3

　　‘Madam Big knows everything,’ my mother’s words echoed in my mind. ‘The ones who tried to outsmart her all ended up dead or disappeared.’ Though she’d worked herself to the bone to send me to school, she was always wary of my high grades. It was her firm belief that a woman who was too educated, too smart, was courting disaster. Perhaps she had been warning me my entire life.

　　I didn’t know if I was using my head or my body anymore. All I knew was that the space between Madam Big’s legs was narrow, deep, and searingly hot. I buried my tongue and nose in that damp heat, licking with all my might, but it only seemed to grow hotter. Or maybe it was my own body that was catching fire.

　　"Hanwoo, I’m melting here. Pick up the pace."

　　Clearly, my fumbling efforts were not enough. My mind was racing, making it impossible to focus. I knew I could do better, but my body refused to obey. Finally, she shoved my shoulder with the toe of her shoe. My face was slick with her, my breath uneven. I waited for the verdict, my heart hammering against my ribs.

　　I could have done it, I could have done it, why did I mess up? The frustration was so intense I wanted to claw my own chest open.

　　"I’m starting to think that eating pussy isn’t really your forte, baby."

　　"You know I’m smart," I pleaded. "I can do better, Ma’am."

　　‘Madam Big has a weakness for sincerity. She might just let it slide once, even if she knows better.’ My mother’s advice guided my words. From between her spread legs, I begged with the most pitiful expression I could muster. I rubbed my cheek against her knee, grabbed her dangling foot, and nuzzled it like a desperate, pathetic dog — the kind that wags its tail after being kicked.

　　She picked up the coffee cup perched precariously on the table and drained the little that remained. As she gulped it down, I watched the liquid travel down her long, slender throat. When the cup was empty, she threw it at me. It landed squarely between my kneeling thighs.

　　"You made it well," she said. "Lukewarm."

　　I took it as a sign of grace, a final chance. I immediately ducked my head to resume my task, but she crossed her legs, blocking my path. She tapped the toe of her shoe, as if weighing her options.

　　"I’ll work really, really hard," I rushed to say. "You won’t regret giving me this chance."

　　A tiny, stifled laugh escaped her.

　　"It’s rather amusing, watching you debase yourself like this."

　　She shrugged.

　　"Even if it is just for money."

　　I wanted to scream that it wasn’t just for the money. That I had worshipped her from afar since I was a child, that my deepest dream was simply to be near her. But she would never believe it. This was Pagye-dong, Satan’s own domain; there was no room for such foolish feelings. It was better for both of us if she believed it was all about the money.

　　"You know I take a bath every evening when I get home from work, don’t you?"

　　"Of course. When my mother fell sick, I was the one who prepared it for you."

　　She nodded.

　　"I’ll be there within the hour. Draw a proper bath and wait for me."

　　"Is there anything else you need?"

　　"I suppose I’ll have to see when I get there."

　　Her words were laced with meaning. She stood, making it clear there was something she needed from me right now.

　　"Hanwoo, let me give you some advice. Are you paying attention?"

　　"Yes, Ma’am. I’m listening."

　　"Before you buy a car, you always take it for a test drive," she said, her voice a low, suggestive drawl. "It’s the only way to properly judge if it runs well. To see if it suits you, if it handles nicely, if it’s sturdy enough… if you can ride it for a long time without getting bored."

　　"Do you want me to… undress?" I asked.

　　It felt like the right answer, the one she was waiting for.

　　A pleased smile spread across her face. She looked me up and down, then nodded.

　　I stripped, leaving nothing behind. As I tossed my last piece of underwear to the floor, I stepped toward her. She uncrossed her legs and let me in.

　　"When did you become this grown… and this greedy?" she whispered, stroking my hair.

　　She was the only living adult who had watched me grow from a child into a woman. My mother’s distant relative, the benefactor who had taken us in. A villain by every societal standard, but in my eyes, a slightly less evil one. And, to be honest, a fatally attractive one.

　　Her hand moved to my breast, caressing, pressing, cupping it with the serious, detached air of an appraiser at an auction. Her touch traveled down my waist and over my hip, finally coming to rest in my pubic hair. Before she could command it, I slowly turned around.

　　A low, throaty chuckle rumbled from her chest. Her hands were soft, but cool. When they gripped my buttocks firmly, a shiver ran through me.

　　"Goosebumps? Getting scared now?"

　　"No, Ma’am. Your hands are just cold."

　　"That’s right. My hands and feet are always cold. It’s why I like things lukewarm."

　　In one swift motion, she yanked me toward her. My body bent back sharply before righting itself, leaving my head spinning. When my senses cleared, her fingers were parting the hair, exploring the soft flesh within.

　　"Relax. You can’t be so stiff."

　　I didn’t know how. I panted, trying to ask her what to do, but the words were lost in the trembling of my body and voice.

　　"Spread them," she whispered. "Wider."

　　She had taken the wheel, steering us toward a definite destination. She was a strong, skilled driver; I knew we would reach a mutually satisfying conclusion. I widened my stance, leaning into her. That’s it, that’s right, her praise washed over me. Her fingertips traced the most sensitive parts of me, a gentle caress, then a light scratch.