The wineglass slipped from her fingers, cracking against the marble floor. Tae didn’t move to clean it up—just stared at the spreading stain, dark as blood.

"Again?" Her housekeeper clicked her tongue, already reaching for a towel. "Third time this week, Ms. Tae."

Tae forced a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The silk robe she wore barely covered her thighs, slipping open as she shifted on the couch. "I’m just clumsy," she murmured, though they both knew better.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Another group chat update—her friends laughing over brunch, kids balanced on their hips. Tae swiped it away.

"You should go out," the housekeeper said, mopping up the wine. "Meet someone nice."

Tae’s smile wavered. She pulled the robe tighter, but the deep V-neck still showed the curve of her cleavage. "Men don’t like women like me," she said lightly. "Too old. Too... much."

The housekeeper snorted. "Bullshit. You’re gorgeous. They’re just intimidated."

Tae said nothing. Outside, the pool glowed turquoise under patio lights, empty as always. She traced a finger along her collarbone, wondering when touch started feeling like a memory.

The housekeeper left with a sigh. Alone, Tae curled her bare feet beneath her and scrolled mindlessly through her phone. Ads blurred together—shoes, vacations, dating apps she’d deleted months ago. Then an Escort app: Elite Companions. Discretion guaranteed.

Her thumb hovered. The app icon gleamed back at her, promising something she couldn’t name. A breath shuddered out of her. What’s the worst that could happen?

She downloaded it.

The app loaded with a sleek black screen, gold lettering flashing Members Only. Tae chewed her bottom lip, scrolling through profiles that blurred together—suits, smirks, generic compliments. Then his photo stopped her cold.

Jeon Jungkook. 25. 6’1”.

The camera had caught him mid-laugh, tousled hair falling into his eyes, muscles straining under a fitted black tee. His bio was simple: Let me take care of you.

Her pulse thudded in her throat. She tapped Message, fingers trembling over the keyboard. Hi. Too boring. She deleted it. You’re beautiful. Too forward. The robe slipped off her shoulder as she huffed, typing finally: Are you free tonight?

The reply came instantly. For you? Always.

A hot flush crept up her neck. His profile said $500/hr. She didn’t blink before sending her address.

The doorbell rang at 9 PM sharp. Tae adjusted the red lace bodysuit clinging to her hips, sprayed perfume between her breasts. One last glance in the mirror—pupils dilated, lips bitten pink.

She opened the door.

Jungkook stood there, taller in person, smelling faintly of cedar and mint. His gaze dragged slowly down her body, lingering where the lace cut into her thighs. "Fuck," he murmured, voice deeper than she expected. "You’re even prettier up close."

Tae’s knees weakened. She gripped the doorframe. "You’re—" Younger than her. Broad-shouldered. Real.

He stepped inside, toeing off his shoes without breaking eye contact. "Nervous?"

"Yes."

Jungkook smiled, slow and easy. He reached out, brushing his thumb over her wrist. "Don’t be. I’m here to make you feel good." His touch burned through the lace. "That’s all."

She led him to the living room, where candles flickered by the untouched wine. Jungkook whistled at the high ceilings, the grand piano in the corner. "Rich girl," he teased, but there was no edge to it.

Tae sat on the couch, suddenly conscious of how the bodysuit dipped between her legs. Jungkook didn’t sit—he knelt in front of her, hands sliding up her calves. "Tell me what you want."

Everything. Nothing. She couldn’t speak.

He leaned in, breath warm on her inner thigh. "I’ll guess."

Tae squirmed, fingers twisting in the couch cushions. "Guess what?"

"How old you are." His lips grazed her skin, just above the lace. "Thirty... two?"

She gasped—half from his touch, half from the number. "Thirty-five," she corrected, arching when his teeth scraped gently.

Jungkook paused, tilting his head up. "Married?"

"Are you—" She shoved his shoulder, scandalized. "Why would I hire you if I had a husband, idiot?"

The laugh that burst from him was startled, genuine. "Most of my older clients do."

Her pink mouth fell open. "That’s—that’s terrible!" The lace dug into her hips as she sat upright, indignant. "I could never cheat on someone."

Something shifted in Jungkook’s eyes. His thumb stilled on her knee. "You’re..."

"What?"

"Different." He said it like it was precious.

"What’s your name sweetheart?" Jungkook murmured, fingers tracing idle patterns on her knee. "Tell me."

"Tae." It came out breathier than she meant.

His grin was all mischief. "Just Tae? Like Madonna?"

She swatted his chest, laughing despite herself. "Yes, just Tae."

His hand slid higher, warm against her thigh. "A pretty thing like you..." His thumb pressed into the soft skin near her lace. "No boyfriend? Husband?"

The words stung more than she expected. Tae glanced at the wedding portrait she'd forgotten to take down—her ex's smile frozen behind glass. "Divorced."

Jungkook followed her gaze, his teasing fading. "Shit." His fingers stilled. "I'm—"

"Don't." She caught his hand before he could pull away. "It's been sometime."

The lie tasted bitter. Jungkook studied her face like he knew.

"Kids?" he asked softly.

Tae's stomach twisted. She pictured the nursery she'd painted mint green before the divorce, the ultrasound tucked in a drawer upstairs. "No." Her voice cracked. "But I... I want them. One day."

Jungkook exhaled sharply. For a heartbeat, he looked younger than 25—eyes wide, lips parted like he'd stumbled onto something fragile. Then he gathered her hands in his, calloused palms swallowing her delicate fingers whole.

"You'd be a good mom," he said, so earnest it ached.

Tae's breath hitched. No one had ever—

The bodysuit strained as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. Cedar and sweat filled her nose. Jungkook made a soft noise, arms circling her waist like he'd done this a thousand times.

"You smell expensive," he mumbled into her hair.

She huffed a wet laugh. "Shut up."

His hands spanned her bare back where the lace dipped low. "Tell me what you need."

Tae tugged her hem down, suddenly shy under his gaze. The candles flickered, casting shadows across his collarbones where his shirt hung open.

"Never met someone who blushes this much," he murmured, tracing the heat in her cheeks. "Or gets this wet from just talking." His fingers slid higher, beneath the lace.

She whimpered, thighs clamping around his wrist. "I don’t—this isn’t—"

Jungkook kissed her inner knee, slow. "It’s okay." His tongue followed the seam of the bodysuit. "Let me show you."