Kiss like Kdrama
He came from a distance. Tall, mysterious, Korean. But, it wasn’t him.
Standing there at the end of an empty parking lot, and I was on the other side. We met online on a dating app the night before. It would have been serendipitous if it wasn’t for the fact that I was married and he had a girlfriend. And this wasn’t romance but a hookup in broad daylight with the noon sun baring down on us.
Yes, it was hot. Sun scorching hot.
Little beads of sweat trickled down the side of my face as I tried to cover my eyes from the glare of the disapproving star above our heads.
But I didn’t care. I came this far. Egged on by, who would have thought, my husband, H, who told me this was my chance to test it out.
Test what you ask? Test my nerves because I was going a month and a half later to Seoul — the city of my dreams, or as H called it, my Disneyland. And the goal was gotta-catch-them-all, eyes glowing at the Mickey mice around.
Every guy who spoke to me would know I have a bit of a fetish. Okay, more than a bit — a disease called ‘Yellow fever,’ which, did that really count? Come on…considering I’m East Asian too, it seemed more legit that I would like East Asian men like Koreans.
And if we want to talk about objectification, those men were the same. Looking for a sexy Asian milf with hot curves and a cougar lust. It was a two-way street.
And, if you’d been following my story, you would know that I’m trying to prove a point, which was why meeting Korean men was necessity.
“Yeah, right,” H would say again, “And, bull-shit.”
Hahaha. Okay, fine. This was an obsession. Intrigue. Hot men alert. I'd admit whatever you want to call me or what I was doing.
I’m a bad, naughty, perverted milf cougar.
Back to meeting this Seoul guy. He was here for a week in April, on a business training trip. Last night was his last chance to hook up before returning to his native soil.
He wanted to taste the American girls, and lucky for him, he hooked an Asian milf. Lucky for me, I thought I was chatting with a cute, twenty-six-year-old Korean guy.
I didn’t usually have sex after a first meet. I was thinking of meeting and pawing him a little and having fun. So when our venue changed from a coffee shop to his hotel, I was worried. At that time, I was a newbie. Didn’t know how to pull the strings so I went with the flow.
When I reached his hotel, he sent me another message saying I should get a room. He had two hours before leaving for the airport, and his excuse was his boss, and colleagues were in the same hotel, and he couldn’t be seen meeting a woman there.
Red flags were everywhere, flapping in the wind. But I drove all the way to meet him, and I was determined to eradicate my anxiety about meeting a Korean guy from Korea, so that I could be cool when I meet my online friends in Seoul in the coming months.
I firmly said no to the hotel room, so he suggested the empty parking lot behind the hotel.
I chose the furthest spot I could find. The one in front of a putting range. The parking lot was beside a highway, and the constant roar of cars speeding past and the putting of the golf balls strangely helped calm my nerves. Maybe I was thinking, what bad could happen in such an open spot? Everyone in this world and the one up above could see us.
At that point last year, I’d already met four guys for coffee before him, and two weeks ago, I had my first sex with a stranger and was a little more confident in myself. My adulteress cherry picker was a nice mid-thirties single Taiwanese American guy with a good amount of experience in the dating, cheating world. He gave good advice and had stories to tell.
This Korean guy was the first Korean I met in person for naughty fun. All my online experiences with Koreans and virtual fucking, was nothing compared to meeting someone in the flesh. For the Asian Americans whom I met before this, communication wasn’t an issue.
This guy…his first language was Korean, and though he spoke okay English, lost in translation was very possible. If he was a laptop, and I wanted to backtrack, I could just slam my laptop down. But he was human — breathing, flesh and blood.
I watched him come closer as I walked to him. At that moment, I focused on the irony that it was a K-drama. Except I wasn’t some poor, above-average-looking girl, helpless and struggling in life, and he wasn’t some handsome, secret chaebol with a domineering, flawed personality.
And as we got closer, something was even more obvious. My heart was pounding like thunder.
Wait…wait a minute? Between the seconds to face-to-face, I squinted. Reality was hitting fast, like a miles-per-hour golf ball coming straight at me.
“Is that you?” I asked first. ‘You’ because I really forgot his name as I wrote this, and because I am still shocked at this point as I’m reliving the Kdrama moment when the spark fizzled.
“You look different,” I spoke again because he didn’t.
“You look the same,” he smiled. “So pretty.”
My insides cringed. Oh. My. God.
How was I supposed to say it without sounding rude? Again, it was different online. There were many excuses I could use, one being…not replying till I could get myself composed.
He was waiting, and I stared, looked away, and then caught his eyes again, which were smiling, too. Obviously, he liked what he saw.
I was dressed to seduce. In a long-sleeved, tight, light-brown one-piece with a low V-cut neckline. The body-hugging dress boosted my curves, and under the dress was a bigger surprise.
This cougar was ready to eat. To attack her prey but only to find out her prey wasn’t a small lamb but a giant sheep.
“You bulked up.” I finally spoke again. His face was the first thing I noticed. It wasn’t sharp, and his whole body was twice what it was in his profile pictures.
“You like it?” He flexed his arm, and his bicep popped. He came really close now.
I tried to look away. In fact, I turned back to my car and started walking briskly with him following.
“That’s my car.” I pointed stupidly. It was the only vehicle in the whole parking lot.
My stomach was churning. He wasn’t bad-looking, but I was built on expectations, especially when I had a game plan thought out, only to have my rug pulled from under me.
But H’s words were in my head. “This is your chance. You can’t back down. You gotta try and get rid of your fears. Think of the guys in Seoul. You don’t want to let them down. You can’t run away when you meet them.”
Very true. So very true.
After all those months of planning to meet and dates set, I wanted each guy to have a good experience. I needed to know how I would react to a Korean guy and how I should make my moves. Call this my pre-test.
When we arrived at my car, I swiveled around and side-stepped him, so he backed into my car instead. Leaning against my car, he peered down at me. At six feet over, he was a head taller than me.
And then in a kdrama move, I slammed my right palm on the car, beside his ear, stretching my arm out. He was surprised, and then, I tiptoed and brushed my lips on his.
He smelt like cigarettes.
A point deducted.
He kissed me back hard, holding onto the back of my head. His tongue swirling in my mouth and sucking my tip every second he caught me. His strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against his hard body. Yes, I could go on…and give you second by second. But, it would take forever. So, skipping the endless kissing, he finally pulled back and gasped for air.
I stared at him, my mouth full of smoke.
Clueless, I wrenched my hands.
“Let’s get into the car,” he said.
“Okay, you go there.” I pointed to the front passenger seat, and he looked confused when I marched off to the driver’s side. When we both got in, I laughed nervously.
“Urmm…” He was scrunched in front. My driver’s seat fit me just nice, but for his stature, he was a bear in a toy car.
“Press that button at the side,” I said and watched him trying to fiddle. A comedy ensued when he tried to get his seat backward, and I climbed over him to help in and then got out of the car to lift the button handle.
The seat grumbled, moving like the sound of a conveyor belt, and achingly in slow-mo.
It was a total joke. Us staring at the seat and then at each other.
Fate was telling me — “Go home!” As if she knew what was to come and was putting breaks for the disaster that was about to happen.
It wasn’t like I lusted for him. I definitely wasn’t In-Lust-With-Him. In fact, he lost his appeal when I realized he didn’t look like his profile pic.
Was I superficial? Yes, so what? Was that a sin? In my opinion, I felt cheated. Catfished. I came expecting one and getting another instead.
Yet, considering that, I stayed. So determined to see this through, getting rid of my nerves and kissing and playing with a stranger a little more. I had to be the experienced one. My friends in Seoul expected me to be the cougar and not the bunny in a fox robe.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay,” he took a deep breath.
I went back to my side of the car. Driver’s side again.
“Let’s start over,” I said.
“Over there?” His brow raised. “Not here?” He pointed to his lap.
“Ermm…yeah…” My face flushed. “Well…” I grabbed both sides of my dress.
It was Show Time.
I did not practice it in front of the mirror, but I practiced it several times in my head.
It was all in the wrists. So, with a flip of my hands, I pulled my dress over my head and off, in one swoop. True, there was a little fumbling but all I heard was….
“Wow! Wooow…”
I looked up and our eyes met. I could see his arousal both in his gaze and the bulge in his pants. My red lingerie, with its second-skin smoothness and half-cupped creamy breasts, was magic.
He grabbed me tight as I climbed onto him. Burying his head into my breasts and breathing in deep. His lips were already kissing and licking my skin and hungrily reaching for my nipple. His other hand milking my left breast, squeezing hard.
He was murmuring. Words of praise and his other hand dropping to unbuckle his belt and unzipping.
“No.” I stopped his hand. “No sex.”
“Why no?” He muttered between kisses. “I thought this is what you want.”
“No. I said we will meet and see how we match…and if we do, we have sex in Seoul.” Words are just words.
“But, I want you now,”” he said. “You’re too sexy.”
His hand reached under my short lingerie dress, like a missile zooming straight for my red T-panty, fingers hooking on the strings, pulling closer, digging down for what was under.
I tried to make a grab for his hand, but his lips were on my throat, and then when he buried his head into my chest again, I turned to my left.
“Fuck! Damn it!” There was a black car with its hood facing straight at us.
“Car!” I shouted. “Cop!” Pushing him off my chest.
“Huh?” He looked up confused. I could tell from his dilated eyes that he was too sexed up to think.
"The cops are here!" I shouted. The black car pulled up behind my car, and I pointed once again at it with its bonnet facing my car boot.
I was still on the Korean guy. Seconds felt like hours, and in my panic, my movements felt like treading water.
I jumped into the driver’s seat. My boobs were still exposed. Popped them in and turned around to face the cop.
Korean guy threw my dress on my chest, and as I turned to back out, the cop car waited a few more seconds before he let me go.
I raced down the empty car park with the cop chasing after me. As I got closer to his hotel, the Korean guy shouted. “My hotel! I’m flying…”
I slammed the brakes, “Get off!” Glancing at the cop car coming closer. “Hurry, get off.”
Like a teenager guilty of something bad, he slouched out with his jacket in his hand.
“I’ll see you again?” he asked.
“Are you for real?” I glared at him.
“What?” he was confused.
We were in the middle of the parking lot, and the cop could anytime get out of his car and arrest me.
I burnt rubber, hell hounds nipping at my feet. I was doing seventy-five miles per hour on the expressway, not once looking back. I kept on speeding, my heart pounding hard, hammering against my ribs. But, after some distance, I checked my rear view.
The cop was gone.
Several miles more, and I exited the highway. I found an office building with no camera and changed.
Never had I broken the law. Never again would I do something so stupid.
Never again. That’s what I told the next guy I met. A nice doctor who had sex with a nurse in their night shift room. She was hot and had tattoos. She pushed him onto the bed and took him.
Yeah, I didn’t do it with him, though. I didn’t do it with the next guy, either. The cop car was still etched in my mind—a black and shiny car with the white label on the side—Allied Security.
Funny enough, I didn’t see his face. I was assuming it was a he. The facelessness of the man who chased me haunted my weeks, and then, in a snap, I was back again.
And many months later, I was back in the car again, giving a blow job to a guy I can't remember right now. Maybe it was the Korean guy or some other fish I needed to test.
Whatever it was, it was fast and furious. Time was moving so fast and my urge for sex was a hunger I could not stop.
And so the car became my portable bedroom. Nightmares undaunted, the chase was fire in my veins. It wasn’t my first and wasn’t my last.