The Cafe Date, where a new Haeun appeared

The cafe was nearly empty, the faint background music drifting through the air, punctuated by the soft hum of the espresso machine. Haeun sat across from me, a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, obscuring much of her face. Her frame was covered by a thick jacket, its bulk hiding her sensuous figure, though I knew that underneath it she wore only a loose dress that left much of her exposed.

When the young server approached to take our orders, his enthusiasm was unmistakable. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, and he fidgeted nervously as his eyes flickered between us. He offered to store Haeun’s jacket for her, his tone polite but eager, and she declined with a soft laugh, unzipping and shrugging the garment slightly off her shoulders instead. The movement was casual, yet deliberate enough to give him a glimpse of the dress underneath, her breasts visible in the gap that revealed her cleavage, the absence of a bra obvious.

The server’s breath hitched audibly. His face turned a bright shade of red, and his hands trembled as he jotted down our orders—an iced Americano and a slice of tiramisu for her, a latte and pasta for me. He lingered a moment too long before shuffling off, his head ducked and the menu pressed to his crotch. Haeun's gaze followed him behind her shades. When she turned back to me, a playful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Did you see his face?" she whispered, her voice lilting with amusement. "I won't be surprised if he got our orders wrong."

I exhaled sharply, trying to steady my pulse. "I don’t think he’s ever seen someone like you in his life, certainly not in a place like this."

Her smile widened, and she tilted her head, watching me with I imagined to be a predatory curiosity. "And you? What about you?" She slid her hand under the table, beneath the tablecloth, her fingertips brushing the fabric of my jeans, mere inches away from my straining cock. "Did you like the way he looked at me?"

I stiffened in my seat, torn between mortification and the unmistakable surge of arousal her teasing brought. "Haeun..." My voice faltered, my protest half-hearted. In truth, I had no idea what was going on through her head right now. After my tearful confession, and her comforting kiss, she had hurriedly dressed and pulled me out of the house with her without saying another word.

She pressed harder, her fingers finding the tip of my cock, making me gasp softly. There was no one near enough to hear us, and the table provided a perfect shield from prying eyes, but I was acutely aware of how exposed we were. This was a new level of public play for us, especially given the stakes if an idol like her was found to be fooling around in public with a guy.

My voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t aroused, but... what about you?"

She cut me off with a sharp tap against my cock, making my sentence end in a surprised hiss. "Shhh," she hushed, removing her hand from my lap. "Just watch, Joonie." She turned her head towards the counter, and I followed suit, my pulse still thrumming.

From behind his espresso machine, the server kept glancing in our direction. He tried to maintain his composure, but it was clear that Haeun's gaze had utterly disarmed him. The next moment, I heard the clatter of a cup on the floor, the young man muttering curses under his breath as he bent down to retrieve it.

Haeun's laughter rang out, light and musical. She sat back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing, the jacket parting. She was pulling up her skirt, I realised, giving the poor - no, lucky - guy a view of her gorgeous legs.

The server soon returned hurriedly, balancing a tray with our drinks and her tiramisu. Haeun withdrew her hand casually, letting her dress fall back down, and offered him a dazzling smile. He set everything down with a fumbling politeness, his gaze flickering to her body with each completed task. As he handed her the tiramisu, she reached out, her fingers curling around his hand, her touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. His eyes widened, a visible gulp travelling down his throat, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for him. He was utterly at her mercy, and I knew very well the **** ache of seeing something beautiful, yet be unable to act on it.

"Thank you," she said sweetly. He nodded nervously, unable to utter a word in response before he turned and walked away.

As soon as he was gone, she picked up her fork, slicing into her dessert as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "I think he’s in love with me," she stated without emotion, popping a bite into her mouth.

I shook my head, my voice dry but affectionate. "You really do enjoy being cruel, don't you?"

She paused mid-chew, her eyes flicking up to mine as her shades slipped down her nose. Her gaze was intense, penetrating, yet playful. "Don’t be silly," she said, her voice muffled as she finished her mouthful. "If I wanted to be cruel, I would have made him crawl underneath and suck on my toes while I eat."

I almost choked on my latte, the image she conjured far more erotic than I was prepared for. "You wouldn't," I managed, my eyes never leaving hers.

She smiled again, her bottom lip tilting, exposing her teeth stained with chocolate that I wanted so desperately to lick off. "No," she agreed. "But you know he would if I asked."

I watched her eat in silence for a few moments, my mind racing. Was this really the same person that cried in my embrace, asking me to keep her for myself? Did she change herself for me, or was it that she always enjoyed these games, and merely kept them to herself until now?

Either way, I was grateful for her openness, even as it left me breathless. To think that she was a willing and eager participant to my fantasies, even if it was a charade, soothed my tortured soul. And yet, the thought that this might be a real side of her, one that had been hidden for fear of upsetting me, was undeniably thrilling. The idea of seeing Haeun's desires laid bare, witnessing her pleasure in its rawest form—what could be more seductive?

My attention snapped back to her when I realised that she had finished her dessert. She was gazing at me thoughtfully, her hands idly playing with her fork.

"Joonie," she said softly, "Can I tell you something?"

I nodded, unsure what to expect.

Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, her words slow and deliberate as if she was reciting a foreign language. "When I saw the way he looked at me, it made me really wet." Her eyes drifted to the counter where the server was preparing to serve my pasta. "And when he looked at you, I saw his expression change into one of jealousy and hatred. I could practically see him fantasize about beating you to a pulp just to take your place."

My heart pounded, my thoughts a dizzying whirl of emotions. I glanced towards the counter, taking in the young server's demeanor. Now that she mentioned it, I couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze switches to me, his expression clouded with envy and resentment. It was a subtle change, a slight narrowing of the eyes, a tensing of the jaw—but it was unmistakable. My stomach knotted with a mixture of guilt and excitement, the knowledge of his unfulfilled desire adding a bittersweet layer to our little performance.

"You know," she continued, "If he wanted to, he could probably have me in the back right now. All he'd have to do is ask, and I'd follow him to the kitchen and let him bend me over and fuck me." She paused, her breath catching in her throat. "I wonder if you'd enjoy that, Joonie, seeing me walk out with another man, leaving you here alone?"

The image she painted was vivid and tantalising, sending shivers down my spine. The excitement was fueled even further by the sliver of fear lodged in my heart, the thought of losing her forever paralyzing. "Would you really?" I asked softly.

She smiled, a mix of playfulness and something more sincere dancing in her eyes. I felt her hand again, seeking out the zip of my jeans. I fumbled to push my chair closer to the table, **** for her touch, my heart pounding in my chest.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" She pulled out my cock, her tender touch so soft against my throbbing flesh. "Imagining him between me, my dress pulled up to my waist? Maybe even have me come back with his cum still inside me?"

Her hand was wrapped around me now, sharp tugs punctuating her words. She did it mercilessly, each stroke a potent mix of pain and pleasure. I leaned over the table, trying to push down the whimper that threatened to escape.

"He's coming over, Haeun," I warned through gritted teeth.

"Quiet." Her voice was a hiss. "Watch me."

The waiter arrived, a smile plastered on his face. His eyes were on her even as he set down my plate, the dish clattering slightly. His cheeks were flushed, and his gaze drank in every inch of her as if committing her to memory.

"How was everything?" he asked, the words stumbling out of his mouth.

She gave a small, noncommittal shrug, her fingers still wrapped tightly around my aching cock underneath the table. "I'm not quite done yet, actually," she said innocently. Her voice was so sweet it almost sounded genuine. "Can I ask you something? A personal favor?"

"Anything," he responded quickly, leaning closer, his attention solely on her.

"You're a sweet guy, aren't you?" she began, her hand stroking me slowly. She had the waiter’s full attention; his eyes wide and eager, like a puppy waiting for a treat. "I really liked the tiramisu here, and I want to learn how to make it myself. Would it be possible for you to show me the recipe?"

He stuttered out an answer, trying to explain that he wasn't allowed to share such things with customers, but she interrupted him.

"Oh no, I understand" she said, and I swear I could see her eyes sparkling even from behind her sunglasses. "But perhaps if there's a private spot somewhere behind, you could show me without anyone knowing?"

The waiter's eyes widened, his mouth falling open as he understood what she was implying. "There is," he managed to **** out. "But... your boyfriend..."

She shook her head, her smile widening. "He doesn't mind waiting, do you?" Her hand tightened around me, her thumb rubbing against my tip in teasing circles.

My breath hitched, and I tried to keep my composure, but the sensation of her hand and the exhibitionistic thrill of the situation was too much. I felt myself tipping over the edge, a low groan escaping from my lips before I could stop it, my cum spurting out, landing on her hand and god knows where else under the table.

She giggled, pulling her hand back and wiping it casually on the napkins. She turned back to the server, who somehow still hadn’t figured out what had just happened. "I'm sorry, but I think my boyfriend does mind a little bit. Perhaps next time?" She touched his arm lightly, the gesture playful and flirtatious, making him blush even harder.

"Oh, of course, sure," he stammered, his face a mix of disappointment and embarrassment. He quickly excused himself, practically running back to the kitchen.

Haeun turned to me, her smile triumphant. "I win, Joonie."

I sat there in my post-orgasmic haze, trying to process what had just happened. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice still shaky.

She shrugged, grabbing my fork and spearing a piece of my pasta. "I made you cum before I had to actually go with him. So, I win. You lose."

I stared at her as she ate, my heart still pounding from my orgasm. "What did I lose?" I asked, genuinely curious about this game she seemed to have made up on the spot.

"Nothing," she said after swallowing. "Maybe the chance to watch me get fucked, who knows?" Her tone was playful, but there was something more serious underneath it, as if she was trying to understand me as much as I was trying to understand her.

I shook my head, still reeling from the intensity of our encounter. "You ARE cruel."

She laughed, a sound that filled the quiet cafe and seemed to warm the chilly air. "I know," she agreed. "But you like it, don't you?"

I couldn't deny it. I did like it. I liked it a lot.

When it was time to leave, Haeun insisted on going up to the counter to pay without me. I watched her lean across to the server, whispering something in his ear that made his eyes widen before he hurriedly scribbled on a piece of paper. She turned back to me with a mischievous glint in her eye and a slip of paper between her fingers.

Outside, the air was colder than before, and the sky was tinged with the first hints of the sun setting. She pulled me close, holding out the paper in front of us. It was a string of numbers, hastily written and underlined twice.

"What's this?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"His phone number," she said matter-of-factly. "And a 25 percent discount, you're welcome."