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It was an ordinary Tuesday morning. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting sharp lines across the room. The silence was shattered by my ringtone; “Yi-ting” flashed across the screen.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Her voice came through—weary, yet still carrying that familiar softness. Yi-ting had been my college classmate; now she was an HR executive at a semiconductor firm in the Tainan Science Park.
“Yi-ting, it’s been a long time.” I set down my coffee, voice steady and composed as always.
“It really has. I’m actually in Taipei today for a meeting at the head office. We just wrapped up.”
“That’s perfect. Lunch?” I offered out of habit.
“Lunch is tough—I’ve still got things to tie up this afternoon. But… are you free tonight? To catch up?” There was a faint trace of anticipation in her tone.
“Of course,” I replied without hesitation. “What are you craving? Chinese, Japanese, Western?”
“Anything is fine. You know I’m not picky. I just want to talk to you.”
“Consider it handled.”
After hanging up, I called a restaurant manager I knew and secured a last-minute table at A Joy in Taipei 101. Known for its exquisite cuisine and breathtaking views, it’s usually impossible to book on short notice, but connections have their perks. A refined, spacious environment felt like the perfect setting for two old friends reconnecting after years apart.
Yi-ting arrived right on time for dinner, dressed in a sharp professional suit. She looked a little worn from the long day, but her refined features and elegant aura were as striking as ever.
She smiled the moment she saw me.
“How are you still so… extra?”
“Extra how?”
She looked me up and down, eyes lingering. “That physique. You were already living in the gym in college, but now? You look like a silver fox straight out of a movie.”
I chuckled, holding the elevator door for her. “You haven’t changed either.”
“Liar.”
“I mean it.”
She met my gaze, and for a split second the air between us felt charged. Her perfume was subtle—barely there—but utterly intoxicating.
Dinner was even better than I expected. We bridged the years—from college memories to the tech industry, marriage, work stress, and the separate lives we had built. A few glasses of red wine brought a soft pink flush to her cheeks.
“I actually envy you,” she whispered, leaning back in her seat.
“Envy me for what?”
“Your freedom.”
I studied her carefully. “Marriage isn’t free?”
She was quiet for a moment, a bittersweet smile touching her lips. “Sometimes it’s just… a habit.”
Outside the window, all of Taipei glittered like a galaxy suspended in the night. But her eyes were far more captivating than the view.
The conversation flowed so naturally that time slipped away. We had planned to leave by nine, but when we finally checked the clock it was already 9:30 PM and the restaurant was starting to empty.
She glanced at her phone and frowned. “Damn…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to miss the last southbound HSR from Nangang back to Tainan.”
I checked the time. With evening traffic, there was no way she’d make it in time.
She sighed softly. “Looks like I’ll have to find a hotel.”
I paused for a beat, then spoke in a low voice. “If you don’t mind, you can stay at my place.”
Yi-ting hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Then… I’ll trouble you for the night.”
It was nearly eleven by the time we reached my apartment. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, staring out at the endless sea of midnight lights.
“Taipei really never sleeps…”
“The nights here are longer than you think.”
I pulled a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. “A drink?”
“Just a little.”
When she took the glass our fingers brushed. She didn’t pull away immediately. Her breathing had shifted—heavier, expectant.
As the amber liquid burned a trail of warmth down her throat, she stared at the glow in her glass. The wedding band on her left hand suddenly felt unbearably heavy, a cold reminder of the predictable life waiting for her in Tainan. Yet the potent mix of vintage wine from dinner and this sharp whiskey was dissolving every defense she had spent years building. For one night, she decided to let the faithful wife disappear and allow the woman inside her to finally breathe.
“I’ll… use the shower first,” she murmured, her voice laced with a subtle, smoky courage that wasn’t there before.
The bathroom door finally opened, releasing a wave of warm steam scented with body wash. I turned and felt my pulse spike. Yi-ting’s long black hair hung damp and heavy over her pale shoulders, water droplets tracing slow paths down her neck and disappearing into the edge of the thick white towel she clutched to her chest. The fabric was pulled tight, biting into her full, lush breasts and creating a deep, breathtaking cleavage. She stood barefoot on the cool floor, legs slightly crossed, skin glowing with a fresh post-shower flush. Her eyes held both shyness and unmistakable hunger.
I crossed the room slowly and backed her toward the bed. Her damp hair fanned out across the pillow like dark silk. I slid a hand along her waist, feeling the soft, resilient warmth beneath the towel. She shivered but didn’t resist, only lifted her gaze to mine—bashful yet burning.
“Yi-ting…” I growled her name, voice rough with need.
I crushed my mouth to hers. The kiss started deep and searching, then turned fierce and desperate. Her cool lips warmed instantly under mine. Her hands climbed my shoulders, nails grazing lightly down my back.
I peeled the towel away slowly, revealing her body in the low light. My hands explored her—neck, shoulders, collarbones, then the lush, heavy weight of her breasts. She arched with a soft moan. I moved lower, kissing down her stomach until I settled between her thighs.
I spread her legs gently and lowered my mouth to her. My tongue traced slow, deliberate circles, then pressed with firm, rhythmic pressure exactly where she needed it most. Yi-ting’s hips jerked, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. I slid my fingers inside her, curling them upward while my tongue never stopped its relentless assault on her most sensitive spot. Her breathing turned ragged, thighs trembling around my head. Within minutes her entire body tensed, back arching off the bed as a powerful orgasm crashed through her. She cried out, fingers gripping my hair, her body pulsing hard against me as waves of pleasure flooded her.
I stayed with her through every shudder, gently licking and kissing until the tremors finally eased. Only then did I rise, flip her over onto her stomach, and pull her hips up. Her round ass lifted high, back arched beautifully. I gripped her waist and pressed forward, sinking deep into her still-trembling heat in one smooth, powerful thrust.
“Ah—!” she moaned, voice muffled by the pillow.
I didn’t hold back. I took her hard and deep, each powerful stroke driving into her with controlled intensity. The wet, rhythmic sound of our bodies meeting filled the room. I reached around to stroke her while I moved relentlessly, feeling her inner muscles flutter and tighten once more.
I gripped her hips harder and drove into her with devastating force, chasing my own release. The moment her second orgasm hit—her body clamping down around me—I buried myself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural roar. Thick, scalding pulses flooded deep inside her as her body milked me greedily. We stayed locked together, breathing hard, her body still trembling around me.
In the quiet afterglow, Yi-ting buried her face in my shoulder, voice husky and spent. “I thought I was too old to lose control like that.” I chuckled softly, tracing my fingers down her spine. “You’ve just been in the south too long. Taipei nights have their own kind of magic.”
I carried her to the bathroom. Warm water washed away the sweat and scent of passion, cooling our fevered skin and slowly returning us to reality.
The next morning I put on a well-tailored casual suit. In the mirror I still looked sharp, the lines of muscle clear. Last night already felt like a vivid dream. Yi-ting had dressed in yesterday’s suit, now neatly straightened, her professional HR facade back in place. Only the soft glow in her eyes betrayed what we had shared. She stood by the window, watching the city slowly wake under a grey dawn.
“Let’s go. I’ll drop you at Nangang,” I said, grabbing my keys, voice returning to its usual steady rhythm. She turned, her gaze complex—gratitude, lingering attachment, and quiet secrecy. The 5 a.m. streets were empty, tires humming against asphalt. I drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift, forearm veins standing out faintly.
We reached Nangang HSR station just after six. The cold fluorescent lights washed away any remaining romance. I pulled over. Yi-ting unbuckled, hesitated, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek—a completely different kiss from the night before. A goodbye kiss.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “When I get back to Tainan… I’ll pretend none of this happened.”
I nodded, watching her pull her suitcase into the station until the automatic doors swallowed her completely.