When an attractive woman invites you for coffee in the middle of the night, you know it's never about the coffee.
Let's be blunt—she's inviting you for sex.
That was the energy Mem-cho radiated the entire walk home.
The teasing glances, the way she let her shoulder brush against mine, the lingering touches. Every signal was there, bright and unmistakable.
My body was already responding to the unspoken promise, my mind racing ahead to what would happen once we crossed her threshold.
We're all adults here.
I know Mem-cho's official age is twenty-five, even though she looks like a teenager with that petite frame and baby face. That's just how the entertainment industry works; actresses and idols always present themselves as younger, hiding their true ages behind manufactured images.
I'm 18 now, myself. Legal enough to smash her.
Then we arrived at her house.
Her mother's voice rang out from inside the house, bright and completely oblivious to what she was interrupting.
"Mem-chan, are you already home?"
Her mother's voice rang out from inside, sharp and clear through the thin walls.
I froze.
Mem-cho turned to face me slowly.
The look on her face was pure, wicked delight—eyes glittering with mischief, lips curling into the smuggest, most knowing smirk I'd ever seen.
She was blue-balling me. And she was loving every second of it.
"Don't be upset, Aqua-kun," she purred, stepping right into my space until her breasts brushed my chest. "Here. Your reward for escorting me home."
Before my brain could catch up, she rose on her toes and kissed me.
It wasn't a polite goodnight peck.
Her mouth opened immediately, tongue sliding against mine, hot and hungry. One hand curled around the back of my neck while the other pressed flat against my chest, nails digging in just enough to sting.
I groaned into her mouth and wrapped both arms around her waist, yanking her flush against me.
Her body molded to mine—soft tits squishing against my ribs, hips rocking forward so the heat between her thighs pressed right against my growing erection.
We kissed like we were starving.
Deep. Wet. Messy.
Her tongue danced with mine, teasing, then demanding. I could taste the faint sweetness of the milkshake she'd had earlier.
My hands slid down to grip her ass through the thin fabric of her skirt, squeezing the firm cheeks and pulling her harder against my cock.
She whimpered softly into my mouth—a tiny, needy sound that made my dick throb painfully against my zipper.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, a glistening string of saliva stretched between our lips for a heartbeat before snapping.
Mem-cho giggled breathlessly, fishing a tissue from her pocket and dabbing at the corner of my mouth first, then hers, like we were sharing some filthy little secret.
"Farewell, my sweet prince charming," she whispered, voice low and velvet-smooth, lips still swollen and shiny. "Text me tomorrow. Promise."
Then she turned and sauntered toward the door.
A sudden gust of night wind caught the hem of her short black skirt and flipped it up completely.
No frantic grab to pull it down. No embarrassed squeak.
She just kept walking, hips rolling with that same deliberate, teasing sway.
Black lace panties.
High-cut. Snug. The thin fabric hugged the perfect curve of her ass, the center seam disappearing between her cheeks.
For one glorious, torturous second I could see the outline of her pussy lips pressed against the material—plump, defined, already damp enough that the lace clung visibly to her folds.
She didn't look back.
Just kept humming that soft, carefree tune under her breath as the skirt fluttered back down and she disappeared through the front door.
Black…
The image burned itself into my brain.
I stood there in the cold night air, cock aching, balls tight, replaying that split-second view on loop.
"What are you waiting for, Aqua? She invited you! Smash her!"
The loli goddess's voice exploded inside my head, practically bouncing off the walls of my mental landscape. She was watching everything with the enthusiasm of a drunk spectator at a fight.
"You seriously need professional help, Goddess," I snorted back at her. "Her mother is right there."
The goddess rolled her eyes so hard I felt it. "Then smash her too. Problem solved."
I stared at her.
She stared back, completely unrepentant.
Okay.
I don't even know her mother's name. I've never seen her face, never spoken a single word to her, have absolutely no idea what kind of person she is.
And here I was, even for a split second, actually considering—
My face darkened.
Why am I even entertaining this?
I shook my head, disgusted with myself for letting that thought take root, even for a moment.
I shouldn't bother replying to this fucked-up goddess at all.
Any woman with a shred of common sense, any daughter who genuinely loved her mother, wouldn't even joke about having sex in front of her or disturbing her peace.
If Mem-cho turned out to be that kind of woman—the kind who'd genuinely be okay with that scenario—I'd cut contact without a second thought.
No hesitation.
But I don't think she is.
Despite the panty shot. Despite the teasing. Despite the kiss that still lingers on my lips.
She was playing a game. A dangerous, flirtatious game.
But was it just a game?
Who knows.
I need to observe more.
Rushing into anything with her would be a mistake.
Akane is the safer option. More predictable. Obedient in ways that matter. If I'm choosing a girlfriend, a real partner, she's the most ideal candidate by far.
Stable. Loyal. No mind games.
When Ai finally comes back—and she will, I'll make sure of it—I want to introduce her to my girlfriend. My partner. The entertainment industry will be cleared out by then, all threats neutralized. Our family will appear perfect again, whole and unbroken.
And when Ai sees that, when she sees me standing there with someone stable, someone safe...
I'm certain she'll come back. Happier than before. And everything will be exactly as it should be.
For now, though, I just stood there in the cold, staring at Mem-cho's door, the ghost of her kiss still warm on my lips and the image of black panties burned into my memory.
...
Mem-cho's POV
"Mem-chan, don't overwork yourself. Your health is the most important thing."
The moment I stepped into the living room, my mother's voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket—gentle, concerned, tinged with that particular worry only a mother can carry.
She sat on the sofa, a book resting in her lap, clearly having waited up for my return despite the late hour.
Her brown hair caught the soft lamplight, falling in waves around a face that still held its youthful beauty despite the years.
There was a gentleness in her features, a warmth in her eyes that had only deepened with age.
She radiated that unmistakable maternal aura—the kind that made you feel safe just by being in her presence.
Even now, after everything, she was still so beautiful. Still so young at heart.
I inherited all of this from her. My face. My softness. Whatever goodness exists in me came from the woman sitting right there.
I smiled, warmth spreading through my chest.
"Don't worry, mother. Sickness can't kill your daughter."
Then my brows furrowed, genuine concern replacing my easy reassurance.
"More importantly, Mother... you're still awake. It's the middle of the night. I don't want you getting sick again."
Her smile softened impossibly further, the kind of smile that held decades of love and sacrifice.
"Then don't overwork yourself, Mem-chan. If you stay up too late, you'll end up like me—sick and frail. And if you want to stay out late with friends... just call me. I won't wait up next time."
She said that every time. And every time, she waited anyway.
"I understand, Mother."
I moved closer, letting her see my face clearly.
"But I wasn't overworking myself tonight. I had a... a date."
The words came out softer than I intended, a shy smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
"So please... don't wait for me next time, okay? I'll be fine."
Her eyes widened slightly, then crinkled with delighted surprise.
"Ara... my little girl has grown up so fast."
She reached out, cupping my cheek briefly with a hand that was warmer than it had any right to be at this hour.
"Since that's the case, please invite your boyfriend here someday. I'd love to meet him."
The teasing in her voice was gentle, affectionate—the kind of mother-daughter moment I'd treasure forever.
I nodded, feeling the warmth spread to my cheeks.
"Yes, Mother. Aqua is a good man. I'll introduce him to you someday."
She didn't press for details. Didn't interrogate. That wasn't her way.
Instead, she simply stood, gesturing toward the dining room.
"Come now. I've kept some food warm for you. Eat before it gets cold."
We didn't linger in the living room.
I followed her to the dining table, where a small spread waited—nothing extravagant, just simple home-cooked food kept carefully warm under covered dishes.
The sight of it made my chest tight.
I ate quickly.
Not because I was hungry—though I was—but because I didn't want her waiting up any longer than necessary.
Every minute I spent chewing was another minute she stayed awake, and her health was fragile enough without me adding to it.
She'd spent so long in the hospital before. Too long.
The memory of those sterile white rooms, the beeping machines, the way her face looked so small against the pillows...
I never wanted to go through that again. Never wanted to see her like that again.
I wanted her healthy. I wanted her strong.
I wanted her sitting in the front row at my debut, watching me shine on that stage, tears of pride streaming down her beautiful face.
I wanted the whole world to know that Mem-cho's biggest supporter, her biggest fan, was the woman who raised her.
That's my only wish as her daughter.
To make her proud.
To make all her sacrifices mean something.
To give her a reason to smile even when her body grows tired and weak.
So I'll work hard. I'll chase my dreams. I'll bring Aqua home to meet her someday soon.
And I'll make sure she lives long enough to see every single one of her dreams for me come true.
Note: Yeah, just like I promised. It's blue-ball time, my friends.
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