Seoul Spankings (8 page)

With limp spaghetti muscles, I flopped my legs into a loose V. She inserted a silver metal bullet, allowing the cord to dangle outside. I wriggled at the cold, but she hit the “on” button. Already exhausted from her ministrations, I fought the waves of pleasure. She adjusted the dial, letting the pressure build, ebb, and change to pulsations.

I grabbed her shoulders, begging her to stop. One more second of pleasure would kill me, and I would explode into Indigo pieces of over-satiated lust. Instead, she switched the bullet off. I tried to take it out, but she stopped me.

“Imagine,” she said. “Sitting in your best finery at a formal dinner, with that between your legs, and I have complete control.” At the word “control,” she jabbed the vibrator control to full power. I convulsed in paroxysms, gasping.

“Stop!” I begged, afraid I would lose control. I tried to convince myself I hadn’t already done so, multiple times per minute. My body was hers, and I bent to her will. She switched the toy off and cradled my cheek.

“It’s your turn.” Indigo started to sit up, but I held her down. “C’mon. You have to let me—”

“Shh.” I placed a forefinger on her lips. “Don’t spoil things.”

“But I can’t….” She propped her elbow on the mattress and curled her legs inward. “You…, It’s not fair.”

You
. How free Americans were to say a pronoun fraught with implications. It had taken me years to say “you” comfortably, and I insisted all of my staff learn to say it. In Korean, the tiny word carried enormous complications and potential for offense.
Noh
. From a superior to an underling, giving an order.

Dangshin
. The most over-used textbook word of foreigners trying to speak Korean according to their own country’s rules.
Dangshin-eun Indigo imnida
. You are Indigo, in phrasing no native Korean speaker would use.
Dangshin
spoke of strangers accusing each other after a traffic accident, or a formal song composed for the object of unrequited love.

“Lie down.” I wanted her next to me, not above me.

“Taking pleasure and not giving anything back is exactly what Greg would do! I….”

There it was. The reality I’d asked her not to speak.

“No one has to know. You are American; your culture is more permissive. No one will ask.”

“You don’t understand.” She pushed back the sheet and caressed my breasts.

I covered her hands with mine, unwilling to accept what was not given freely. “No, Indi. Don’t give to me out of obligation. Wait until you truly want—”

I should have phrased it better. The words struck a sour note as soon as they left my mouth, but she didn’t give me a chance to explain.

“Is that what this was? An obligation?” She turned away from me, sliding off the bed. As she stood up, blinding me in the sheer beauty of her naked form, she reached for the crumpled yellow dress we had thrown onto the floor last night. That
I
had thrown. “Should I offer a testimonial for your business? I’ll let your next customer know to expect good sex.”

“Indi—”

“Say your name, huh? Do you use that line with every woman you get into bed with you? The one about looking for a wife was a nice touch. Almost made me believe you.”

The harsh, acidic bitterness made us both cringe. I should have contradicted her, but instead, my internal warning system flared a different signal.
Need food. Now
. We had left the cake uneaten last night, and it rested on the table a few feet away. If I could get my blood sugar up, my soggy brain could function.

Then again, all of my years training to be the next Ee Sajang of Han Incorporated left me clueless to handle post-coital anger. I’d never faced post-coital anything before, at least not with someone I actually cared about. I racked my brains, trying to think of the right thing to say.

“I
was
serious.”

She zipped up the back of the dress Minhee had chosen with such care.

“I told Minhee to cancel your flight home today. We can announce the engagement as soon as my father gives permission. You can choose—”

“No.” Shoving her feet into the gold sandals, she glared at me. “You had no right to make that decision. Get the ticket back. Maybe you could buy a blow-up sex doll. It would follow your orders.”

Stunned, I clutched the bedsheets to my chest that felt more naked than she should see. “Greg,” I guessed. “Greg treated you badly, so you think I’ll do the same. I won’t, Indi.” I fought the tremors, headache, and rising panic. I had to control myself. I’d rather face another international shaming than let Indi get away.

She finger-combed her tousled hair, causing it to stick out all over. And yet, dressed in yesterday’s clothes and flushed with anger, she was the sexiest woman I had ever seen.

Stop it, Han Hyunkyung! Think with your head instead of your pants! What will you do, tackle her and force her to stay?

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, fatigue replacing anger. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I just— It’s time for me to go home.”

This should have been Indi’s new home, but a
Cheongju
Han could not dishonor her name. “Very well.” I rose and put on my own clothes. “I’ll tell Minhee to make the arrangements. She will let you know when to expect the car.”

Indigo let herself out of the room without asking for directions to the guest suite. I stared at the closed door for a few minutes before placing the call.

“Hyojung-ssi. I need your help.”

***

“Miss Indi Go!”

I might have wandered the hallways forever if Miss Cha hadn’t found me. “I need to find my bag so I can pack.”

“Why do you go home?” Her tone was kind, but the shame of the past few days caught up with me.

“Hyunkyung said you would make the arrangements.”

Miss Cha bobbed in approval but answered a different question. “Your Korean is getting better. You said Ee Sajangnim’s name perfectly!”

Say my name!

Hyunkyung.

But you will never use my name in public. Outside these walls, I am Ee Sajangnim.

Why did you make me learn Hyunkyung, then?

For when you scream it in bed.

I had learned, and she had made me scream, but it wasn’t enough.

“Don’t go home, Indi Go.” Miss Cha touched my arm, and I looked at her in surprise. “Ee Sajangnim has never looked as happy as she has since you came. You are perfect for each other.”

Something twisted inside my gut. I didn’t want to hear about our perfection. Did Miss Cha say this to every girl she petted and escorted from Hyunkyung’s bedroom? Maybe she would slip a few big bills into my bag as hush money.

“She’s perfect for all the girls she brings home,” I said without thinking. I could have slapped my forehead, but it didn’t matter. A grave insult to the company owner meant nothing when I would leave anyway.

“All?” Miss Cha wrinkled her forehead. “There is no all. She never spoke of marriage until she asked me to contact Madame Eve-nim about you.”

Great-Aunt Matilda had mentioned a Madame Eve, too. Curious despite myself, I stopped walking to face Miss Cha. “Why did she want me? She didn’t even know me, right?”

“Yes.” At my confusion, she clarified. “Yes, Ee Sajangnim didn’t know you. She asked Madame Eve-nim for an arrangement.”

“To pretend to be her business client at the concert last night?” Hyunkyung’s words to Leila rang in my ears.

“For a date. Madame Eve is famous for choosing the right people for each other. It was time for Ee Sajangnim to settle down, raise a family, and assume her new role as leader of the Han legacy.”

“But I don’t speak Korean. Or know anything about Korea, or business, for that matter.” I wanted to believe Miss Cha, but nothing made sense.

“Silly.” Miss Cha gave an affectionate laugh. “Ee Sajangnim can hire people to do all that. She can’t hire someone to love her. And you do.”

***

“Why couldn’t you tell her the plane was booked? It should have been, anyway. Why did you get her a ticket?” Through sheer self-discipline, I forced myself to break off a piece of the scorned cake from last night. My frayed nerves didn’t need the whiplash of
jeohyeoldangjung
.

“Eat rice,” Minhee urged, but I couldn’t take time for a real meal.

“At the very least, you could have delayed until tomorrow’s flight!”

Minhee stayed out of striking range. “I called in a favor, and I purchased a ticket for Miss Indi Go in first class.”

If there had been a peanut in sight, I would have thrown it at her. “I told you not to!”

“Ee Sajangnim.” Despite her usual deference, something in her tone made me take a deep breath.

“Yes. Nuts.
What
?”

“Ee Sajangnim.” She paused. “I purchased a ticket for you, too. It’s the seat next to Miss Indi Go’s.”

***

“Miss Indi Go, the car is ready. Are you sure you won’t change your mind? My country is a beautiful one. You would be happy here.”

Wistfully, I zipped my bag closed. I had learned the folly of my snobbery, and Korea had indeed proven itself a beautiful country. Its people, however, left something to be desired. “Thank you, Miss Cha.”

“Ee Sajangnim will escort you to the airport, of course.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to face Hyunkyung, especially in public. “I’d rather go on my own. Isn’t she busy?”

“You love her.”

I blinked. Did I hear Miss Cha’s words or my own accusing heart? “I’m sorry, what?”

“You love her, don’t you?”

Without waiting for my answer, Miss Cha picked up my roller suitcase and trundled it through the foyer and out the door. She gave it to the chauffeur, and I sighed. I turned around to give Han Incorporated a silent farewell.

Thank you for one wonderful night, no matter how it turned out. Maybe next time, I’ll go to France
.

I knew better, though. Great-Aunt Matilda would let me live with her because that’s what family did, but I’d return to my minimum wage job at the pub and serve drunk adjunct professors until I died. I’d watch Greg and his pregnant girlfriend, and I’d take in a litter of cats to keep my mind off the might-have-beens.

***

Calm, Hyunkyung
. Miss Cha had already given my bag to the driver, and I waited with a pretense of patience as Indigo buckled herself into the seat next to me.

“It will be about an hour until the airport,” I said, and she refused to look at me. “Try to rest.”

She accepted the pink
damyo
from Minhee with grace. “Thank you.” She screwed her eyes shut, as if to block out everything around her. Did she reject Korea altogether, or just me?

***

Hyunkyung and Miss Cha hadn’t skimped on the travel arrangements. Instead of the coach ticket Great-Aunt Matilda had purchased to Korea, I received priority boarding for the way home. First class! I had never dreamed of traveling in first class anywhere, let alone an international flight. I had a footrest, personal entertainment system, full-size blanket, and a space-age seat that reclined to nearly flat. I’d cut off blood circulation cramped in between loud, obnoxious passengers on the way over, but, going home, I would enjoy the best of the best.

Hyunkyung
. Despite how I yelled at her, she offered me thousands of dollars in accommodations home. I reasoned to myself that a few thousand dollars meant nothing to her. Pennies, really, or whatever the unit of money was in Korea. She wouldn’t notice the expense, but I did.

Just before the flight attendants finished their last check of the cabin, the plane door opened to admit another passenger. Striding toward me, meticulous as a fashion plate and the epitome of royalty, came Hyunkyung Han, heir to Han Incorporated and the first person to make me orgasm so many times I lost count.

I gaped as she sat in the chair next to me. She held out her hand, oddly formal.

“I’m Hyunkyung Han,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I didn’t know what game she was playing, but I mumbled something close to an introduction. “Is this a business trip?”

“You could call it that,” she agreed. “I recently acquired a prime business asset, but I allowed it to get away.”

“That was careless of you.” I made a show of taking out my personal entertainment system, but she didn’t take the hint.

She requested a glass of Burgundy, still chattering in a way unlike her. “I’m an only child, Miss…Indigo, was it?”

“Indi,” I said. “My friends call me Indi.”

“What about the people who love you?”

Could I have heard her correctly? “Indi,” I replied. “Just Indi.”

“Call me Hyunkyung.”

Memories of last night flashed through my mind, the lessons I would never forget. “Hyunkyung,” I repeated obediently.

She smiled, pleased. “I’m an only child, and I don’t like to share. I like to give more than to receive. Pleasure, for instance.”

I nearly upset my wine glass. “Not here!” I hissed.

She continued as if we discussed the weather. “It sounds generous, but it’s more about my inability to share. When I give pleasure, I want to see the recipient pleased. It’s a compliment, if you will.”

The airplane staff rattled through the usual safety checks, emergency procedures, and preparation for takeoff in both English and Korean. I pretended to inspect my life jacket, cheeks burning. As the captain announced takeoff, Hyunkyung changed to a more direct approach.

“Don’t let one mistake scare you off,” she said. “I’m not Greg, and I never will be. Come home, Indi Go. Where you belong.”

The jets blasted into full propulsion, and my stomach lurched as we launched into nothingness. Mechanical knowledge and aerodynamics notwithstanding, nothing kept an airplane aloft but faith, the grace of God, and a little luck.

We should have plunged to the ground and our deaths within a minute, but instead, the view outside the tiny oval windows changed from twinkling runway lights to the untouchable grandeur of water-crystal white masses that have formed the basis of dreams since time immemorial.