Jan 3, 2024
Miami
"Y qual tipo de ron quiere?"
Here on a patio under the light of a half moon while conversing in a language that he did not understand, Kim Mi-rae was an otherworldly creature.
Ji-pyeong watched, spellbound, as his wife studied the cocktail menu. She was wearing a slip of a silver sequined dress. His eyes traced the delicate line of her collarbone. The reflection of sequins dancing along her skin had invited him to do so. The bass line of the music just inside felt like a heartbeat pulsing through everything around them. Even the palm trees lit by multicolored spotlights swayed in concert with it.
Mi-rae looked up and smiled at the waitress.
"Una botella de Barbancourt Blanco, por favor. Gracias."
"Perfecto." The waitress nodded with that practiced approval bestowed in places like this. "En un momento."
Mi-rae folded the menu and then locked eyes with her husband as the waitress walked away. The dark crescent swings of her hair tilted to the right as red curved into a smile.
"What?"
Ji-pyeong played with the collar of his shirt for a moment. Then he leaned forward and decided to tell her exactly what he was thinking.
"I can't decide what's more attractive. The fact that my wife is a polygot or that she is wearing that dress."
Those red lips twitched in amusement. Then Mi-rae folded her bare arms onto the table and raised an eyebrow.
"Why not both?"
Ji-pyeong could not help but smile along with her as she struggled to keep a straight face. Then Mi-rae burst out laughing and looked away in embarrassment as she smoothed her hair.
"Well I picked up a little Spanish in LA. And then my father wouldn't let me get away with studying English when we went home because I was already fluent. I can talk to clients but I wouldn't trust myself to review documents."
Ji-pyeong rolled his eyes at her self-effacement.
"You never cease to amaze me." Then he nodded his chin at her with a sly smile. "Did you send a photo to Max yet? I should thank him for daring you to buy that."
The sequins shimmered in the candlelight as she surreptitiously pulled her chair closer to the table.
"I still can't believe I'm actually wearing this." Mi-rae glanced down as her hands fluttered over silver. "But a club in Miami is the only place where it would actually be appropriate."
Ji-pyeong chuckled as he leaned back and crossed a leg over his thigh. His eyes ticked down to the dress and back up to her face. He delighted in the way that her throat bobbed up and down as well as she shifted in her seat. Ji-pyeong folded his hands in his lap.
"There is nothing 'appropriate' about it. And that's why I love it."
Mi-rae grinned in spite of the blush flowering across her cheeks.
The waitress returned with a ceremonial flourish. They watched in silence as she carefully performed the ritual of muddling fresh mint, lime, and sugar together in a pair of highball glasses.The bottle of white rum was then opened with a solemn formality. Its contents and a dash of club soda were added to the muddled concoction over ice. A sprig of mint and a wedge of lime garnished their drinks just before the waitress turned to the next table of seated guests. Ji-pyeong raised his glass as he breathed in the salt air.
"To moments just like this with you."
Mi-rae smiled so widely that his heart pinched.
She looks so happy.
His wife had smiled more today than in the last several weeks. Even on Christmas he had sensed the stress of the impending closing wearing on her despite her cheerful attempts to pretend otherwise. Ever since he had launched Birdhouse, Mi-rae's complaints about the firm had subsided. But she still sighed at her laptop. And grew quieter on Sunday nights. And she did not want to share stories about her clients or transactions over dinner whenever they could still eat together; any other topic was preferable. Ji-pyeong lifted the glass to his lips and decided to make her laugh instead of calling attention to the contrast.
"You have to respect a business model that requires you to buy an entire bottle of liquor just for the privilege of sitting down."
Mi-rae laughed softly at his droll assessment. Her amusement now secure, Ji-pyeong took a sip of the mojito. Mint and sugar tickled his tongue as the bubbles carried the rum down his throat. Then they both looked around the opulent surroundings. An early twentieth century mansion built by an orange heiress as a monument to her good fortune had been meticulously restored and turned into a glittering nightclub with multiple floors of music and increasingly private rooms for members only. Ji-pyeong had basically bribed his way to a VIP table overlooking the ocean. The beach was now ensconced in darkness save for the reflection of the half moon on the water.
Mi-rae slid an elbow onto the table and cradled her head in her hand.
"I love that someone took this old house and made it into something new."
Ji-pyeong nodded thoughtfully at the pale pink stucco and artfully lit green palm fronds. As he looked around at the men and women preening in blatant displays of designer clothing, Ji-pyeong's mind wandered back to the crowd of entitled Wall Street bankers at the New Years Eve party. This was a place that he understood— arriving in beautiful clothes and an expensive car; a price of admission in exchange for access. It was how he too assumed the place that he had earned in the world.
But the party three nights ago was suffocating.
Ji-pyeong had learned long ago how to play with those who had inherited their fortunes. But that was all it was — playing at something. Those silver haired men asked coded questions: Where did he go to school? What bank had he trained with? Where did he "summer"? As if that word could be a verb. No matter where he was, Ji-pyeong did not possess the correct answers. People like that did not understand the relief of a warm meal in your belly. Or the rush of buying a new car for the first time. Or the thrill of walking into a store and being fawned over rather than peering through the glass. Or the pride in seeing a title underneath your name gleaming on a desk.
At SK and Sandbox, Ji-pyeong was surrounded by a hunger that he recognized. It was the vital artery that pumped life into everything that they did. He had taken for granted being among people clamoring to make something of themselves just as he had. Wall Street was different. It was rife with the sons and daughters of bank presidents and private equity partners who attended Ivy League schools. It was a far cry from the mythical meritocracy that it espoused that it still was. Even Silicon Valley — a place that he had long admired for its innovation — had settled into a stagnant, smug self satisfaction. And yet he was beholden to their support. It rubbed him raw. At Birdhouse, the talented executives he had hired under the watchful eye of his investors to steer the company through its nascent era were experienced and competent. But their pedigrees had sanded off their edges. Ji-pyeong's urgency was often met with blank stares.
At the party, Ji-pyeong had looked around the room and wondered how he had arrived at this place in his life. Logically, he knew it was a culmination of his decisions. But he felt numb — like he was listening to someone else describe the projections for Birdhouse. Only the flash of red across the room jolted him awake. And then it had taken all of his self control not to punch the sneering face of the son of Burke Zucker's managing partner. The condescension to his brilliant wife had filled him with a cold rage. When Mi-rae whispered that she wanted to run away, it was like hearing his own thoughts out loud. And then they did — first to a bathroom, and then that hotel room, and then to Miami. They could still escape with one another.
Ji-pyeong swallowed more rum. And then his hand tightened around his glass.
"The old rich always yield to the new."
He heard the edge to his voice. Mi-rae's glass paused in the air. She looked at him as she sipped her drink quietly. Then she turned her head to look inside the mansion.
Ji-pyeong followed her gaze. Inside was flashing with purple light. Bodies moved like black shadows to a steady rhythm. Her shoulders shifted slightly back and forth of their own volition. Then Mi-rae's dark hair swung back as she looked at him.
"So was it a good surprise?"
"Miami?" Ji-pyeong sat up straighter and smiled. "Of course, I love it!"
Mi-rae had told him only to pack for the beach and nights out in a city. Miami had never occurred to him as he hounded her for clues. It was familiar in the way that, like New York, it blended many cultures into something new. But it was bilingual unlike anywhere else he had been in his newly adopted country. Even if he did not speak Spanish, Ji-pyeong enjoyed this city's cheerful defiance. This morning he had marveled as they crossed a bridge from glittering skyscrapers and concrete to breathtaking expanses of turquoise water. Art deco buildings of every color in the rainbow vied for attention like birds of paradise. The people strolling along South Beach after dinner were no different. It was a fascinating and joyful place.
Mi-rae's thumb nail slipped into her mouth nervously.
"We had such a short amount of time and I just wanted to take you somewhere you had never been. There's something about it that I thought you would appreciate."
He leaned forward and nodded his head enthusiastically.
"It's so different from anywhere I've ever visited. The beach is beautiful. The food is amazing. I love those tiny espressos!"
Mi-rae smiled in relief.
"I really love it too. I've only ever been on deals before so I was usually just downtown. But I always wanted to come back. And the beach today was just what I needed."
"Well you in that red bikini was just what I needed. God, I missed it."
Ji-pyeong winked as Mi-rae laughed. He had already made his feelings about the return of that bikini clear this afternoon. Mi-rae looked him up and down to suggest that the feeling was mutual. The back of his neck warmed. And then his tongue lodged into the inside of his cheek just before they both glanced away from the game of chicken. Horns blasted from the dance floor. And then cascading drums catapulted the crowd into a frenzy.
Mi-rae cocked her head at him curiously.
"I'm guessing from the way that you talked our way in here that this isn't your first time in a club."
Ji-pyeong's eyes quickly darted down into the green depths of his glass.
No. It isn't.
Lonely nights spent in the fleeting company of women more impressed with what he could spend than anything he had to say now made him grimace. Those nights had left him feeling as empty as the glasses left behind at countless VIP tables on his tab. Ji-pyeong raised his eyes to meet his wife's gaze.
"No, I've been to plenty of them."
Mi-rae traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip and offered a patient silence for him to continue.
"I went with women whose names and faces all blend together now to be honest. I never really enjoyed it much. It was somehow even worse to be lonely among that many people than just being alone."
Mi-rae's eyebrows knitted together sympathetically. And then her hand was reaching across the table until it folded around his.
"I went to a few clubs with friends in Europe right after college but we had no money so they were cheesy ones filled with tourists just like us. And then Nick would never come to a place like this."
He felt a petty thrill of triumph. It was silly to covet every happy experience in her life but he could not help but do so. Ji-pyeong turned his palm up and captured her hand. He passed his thumb over her skin possessively; her emerald brushed against him.
"Then I'm glad we came. With you it feels different — exciting."
Her teeth gathered in her lower lip as her eyes danced with affection. Then Mi-rae took a sip of her drink and sat back in her chair with a content sigh. His eyes traced her profile as she looked out at the moon's reflection on the water. When she turned back, she was smiling broadly.
"You know what this is better than?"
Ji-pyeong grinned.
"Working."
Mi-rae nodded emphatically. Then she grabbed his hand again and squeezed it.
"Thank you for taking a few days off to make up for the time we should have had after Christmas and didn't because of my stupid closing."
Mi-rae frowned apologetically.
"I am so glad that we did. We needed this."
Ji-pyeong squeezed her hand right back. He knew that he would pay for it next week but he did not care. Already one day spent lying next to Mi-rae at the pool laughing and ignoring the books that they aspirationally packed had made him so happy. Long hours and travel were like wearing a pair of ill fitting old shoes. Ji-pyeong chafed at being without his wife. If he ate something delicious, he wanted to share it with her. If he heard something amusing, he missed the sound of her laugh. If he was unsure of a decision, he craved her wise counsel. He arrived at hotel rooms in cities where he had never been and stared at the empty beds like equations that he could not solve. How had he borne being alone without her love for so long?
There had been a stunned silence during his call with his management team yesterday when he announced that he would be out of the office for the next three days on the first workday of 2024. But as CEO he afforded himself the luxury of ignoring the silent judgment and briskly moved onto the next agenda item. He had traveled for most of November and December and would be back on the west coast by Sunday. Ji-pyeong was desperate to carve out time with his wife from the dogged pursuit of raising this company from the ground up.
Birdhouse. It was his brainchild. It was also quickly becoming his yoke.
Ji-pyeong knew how to ask people for money — years of being the one asking the questions had prepared him well. But to his surprise, Ji-pyeong discovered that he hated doing it. Perhaps in retrospect he should have predicted that. He could do his pitch from memory on a moment's notice. Rich men and far too few rich women hung on his every word. But then all of the questions that he had already thought of would inevitably follow. And they would shake his hand before making him wait just because they could. He constantly had to curb his impatience and grit his teeth as those with less acumen evaluated his vision. The teenage boy who could not afford rent was now a man who bristled at having to ask for anything. Ji-pyeong was discovering for the first time in his life that just because he was good at something did not mean that he actually enjoyed doing it.
But it's your responsibility.
Guilt pressed in.
I should probably check email.
Ji-pyeong tried to focus on his wife's smiling face and the warmth of her touch. But then he found himself compulsively slipping his hand away and pulling out his phone to check email anyway.
Fifty fucking emails since dinner?
Ji-pyeong sighed and rubbed his forehead as he scrolled through them in search of an excuse to save responding for the morning.
"Is it bad?"
He looked up at Mi-rae's furrowed forehead. His shoulders sagged.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't even have it out."
Ji-pyeong tucked his phone into his jacket pocket and shook his head at himself. Mi-rae leaned forward.
"It's okay, my love. I am in between deals. But there's no such thing for you anymore."
"No. And unfortunately I'm off to Palo Alto on Sunday."
Mi-rae gave him a lopsided smile.
"And I'll be dealing with Cain again. But that's next week. We have now."
Ji-pyeong nodded silently and finished the rest of his drink in one gulp. Mi-rae picked up the bottle of rum and refilled both of their glasses. Then she rubbed her finger across her chin deep in thought.
"At the party, Amy told me that we should be living it up as newlyweds. She's right." Mi-rae sighed and shook her head. "It was our first holidays together and I spent all but one day in the office."
Ji-pyeong was about to remind her that he had worked from home those days anyway when Mi-rae inched closer. Her eyes were wide and there was a crease between the bold black of her eyebrows.
"Was it always like this? And we just didn't notice because being busy was better than being miserable?"
He blinked in surprise at her stark honesty. They had been married for six months and sometimes it could still take his breath away. Ji-pyeong swirled his glass around to stir the rum as he thought about his solitary existence lodged between a desk and that lonely apartment on the river.
"Yes. But I think maybe it's even a little bit worse now? Your deals keep getting bigger. And there is never an end to Birdhouse."
Ji-pyeong tightened his hand around the glass.
"It's not even just the hours. It's the constant asking for money. I hate it, Mi-rae."
Her forehead wrinkled in concern.
"You've been burning the candle at both ends, my love. But you won't be asking forever."
He could not absorb her assurances. Now that the first complaint had spilled from his lips, Ji-pyeong could not keep the rest at bay.
"Even the things I delegate just come back around as more questions instead of getting done. Everyone has to ask me something every time the smallest thing changes! Just fucking get it done!"
A smile teased up the corners of her mouth. Ji-pyeong cocked his head.
"What?"
"My love, as someone who only recently became a partner I will tell you that most bosses wish people would 'get it done' but then inevitably get pissed off when it's not done exactly how they imagined."
Ji-pyeong waved his hand away at the suggestion.
"I'm very direct in explaining what I want. Why do I pay people if they need to ask me what to do every five minutes?"
Mi-rae looked at him.
"But I thought that you loved mentoring people."
Ji-pyeong pushed his glass away with a frown. Despite his grumbling in the past, he had actually loved being a mentor. Indeed, he now missed it. It was gratifying watching others succeed after putting his lessons into practice at Sandbox. And then it flourished into a passion while working with nonprofits. But as CEO, Ji-pyeong was a general issuing orders. He could not guide a chief of a laboratory or the director of information systems or the vice president of product development in anything other than work ethic and meeting his expectations. And there were so many employees already that he barely knew all of their names. His responsibility was to Birdhouse itself and its investors.
"This doesn't feel like that at all."
Mi-rae chewed at her lip in silence. Ji-pyeong folded his arms.
"Just say what you really think. I need you to."
She squared her shoulders. He braced himself.
"Your employees are maybe just still figuring out what is expected. That's probably why you are getting so many questions right now." She tucked her hair behind her ear and swallowed. "And I imagine that you could be somewhat of an intimidating boss for people who don't know you yet."
He narrowed his eyes.
"My job as CEO is not to be liked. It's to make decisions and trust others to do the same."
Ji-pyeong slunk down into his chair. He did not want to waste this precious time complaining about work. But there was only one person with whom he did not have to curb who he was. He nodded his chin at her.
"You didn't find me intimidating."
Mi-rae looked at him for a moment and took a sip of her mojito before responding. Then she set her drink down and leaned back in her chair.
"No, I didn't. In fact, you were frustratingly even more attractive with that brain of yours going a mile a minute."
Her fingers slipped into one another with a small smile.
"But I'm not everyone."
Ji-pyeong could not help but grin at her.
"No. You certainly are not."
Mi-rae sat up straighter under his affectionate gaze. And then she held up her glass with a determined expression on her face that made his heart pinch with tenderness.
"Alright, enough talk about work. We are in Miami on a Wednesday! Tonight we are going to forget about everything that we should be doing and have fun. Deal?"
Ji-pyeong gently touched his glass to hers.
"Deal."
He washed the promise down with rum. Mi-rae did the same, stood up, and then extended an open palm.
The steady beat of drums drew them hand in hand across the balcony. As they entered the room filled with purple light, adrenaline coursed through Ji-pyeong's body. There was something so thrilling about being in the center of so many people with Mi-rae. He had always felt detached in places like this — observing the revelry of others from the solitude of a booth. But with Mi-rae, he dove into the thick of the crowd.
As she turned with her eyes wide and her red lips smiling, silver shimmered onto his black suit and t-shirt. He grabbed her by the waist as the crowd surged up with a crescendo of music. Mi-rae threw her head back and laughed as they jumped up with everyone around them to a soaring beat.
Song after song propelled them. Ji-pyeong did not understand the lyrics. Nor had he ever danced to music like this. But the effusive rhythm guided his black converse into a pattern anyway. Ji-pyeong moved like a satellite around Mi-rae just as the puppet master high above with headphones and a gold mask commanded. When the music slowed, his legs did the same; pulling Mi-rae close as her arms wrapped around his neck. When a song demanded that they move faster, Ji-pyeong lifted his hands in the air and Mi-rae's black hair swished in a blur across the white of her smile. He danced until his brow was damp with sweat. His lungs burned.
How different it was to be amid joy with someone who loved him.
Finally, a song drifted into a trancelike low pulse. Mi-rae lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed her hand to his cheek to pull him close. She smelled like jasmine and sweet sweat. It made his hand instinctively close around her bare shoulder and pull her closer.
"Let's take a break."
Her lips pulled away inches from his own. Luscious red beckoned. Ji-pyeong leaned in to try and claim it but then Mi-rae was tugging at his hand to guide him away from the dance floor.
They emerged into an interior courtyard of black and white marble. Ji-pyeong smoothed his hair back with his free hand as Mi-rae slowed to a stop. Then she peered over a railing undulating like baroque snakes. Ji-pyeong slid his hand into his pockets as he assessed their surroundings. Classical statues of naked figures twisted and turned into evocative poses amid chandeliers dripping with crystal. The open square was otherwise dark but for candles lit on tall brass candelabras. Everything about this place was decadent; a temple dedicated to the senses. Ji-pyeong might have scoffed were he not so tempted by his wife to give into all of his own. He leaned forward and wrinkled his nose playfully.
"This looks like a place where vampires live."
Mi-rae giggled.
"Well people do stay up all night here."
She ran her hands through her hair as she laughed. Ji-pyeong let his eyes linger as the swell of her breasts rose and fell along the straight silver line of her dress. The sheen of sweat on her skin made his hand clench in his pockets. The great conundrum of his wife was that every time she dressed to stand out he just wanted to whisk her away and take her clothes off. He took a deep breath and waited for her to look at him. And then he confessed his thoughts.
"You really do look stunning tonight. Again." He sighed and leaned dramatically against the railing. "Why do you keep doing this to me?"
Mi-rae laughed softly. Then a flirtatious smile played across her lips as she studied him in return. Her shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath. And then she grabbed the lapel of his jacket with both hands. She started walking backwards. Her eyes raked over him as she pulled. He followed like a kite on a string.
"I am obsessed with you in all black and converse. You should always wear this."
Ji-pyeong laughed, thrilled with their mutual exchange of adoration.
"I'm starting to lose track of what I should 'always' wear."
He raised a teasing eyebrow. And then he glanced back to ensure that they were alone. Ji-pyeong crowded her against the wall just behind a statue. One hand found the space just next to her head.
"But tell me." His fingers spanned the wall as he lowered his head, greedy for more. "Just how obsessed are you?"
Mi-rae circled her arms around his neck. She tilted her head coquettishly as her mouth quirked, fighting a smile
"Very."
Ji-pyeong lifted his hand and began tracing just above the neckline of her dress.
"And what should we do about that?"
Her chest rose and fell under the tips of his fingers but she was now looking past his shoulder. Ji-pyeong's fingers stopped along their path and tucked in under the hem. He turned his head to follow her gaze.
Oh.
It was an alabaster sculpture of a man and woman. Their bodies were entwined. The woman was blindfolded, her head falling back with a mouth open in rapture. The man's hands were wrapped around her body possessively; as if in the act of pulling her into his lap. His face was determined and in command. The flickering candlelight leant a warm, realistic glow to their carved forms. Ji-pyeong's eyes traced down the seductive curves of their bodies and then back up to the carved strip cloth wrapped around the woman's eyes. And then he looked down at Mi-rae. She was staring at the woman's face.
Interesting.
Ji-pyeong had played such games before. Giving orders came naturally. And it was strangely easy to play a role when sex was merely about physical gratification. He could be whoever a woman wanted him to be when she barely knew anything about him. But his heart fluttered at the idea of doing it with Mi-rae. And then he became resolutely focused on coaxing the fantasy out of her.
Ji-pyeong lowered his head down to her ear. His mind raced with scenarios as his fingers curled possessively around the unforgiving fabric of her dress. He could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly now against the back of his knuckles.
"Do you want to do that?"
Mi-rae's eyes slowly dragged away from the statue and back up at him. She took a breath as her fingers pressed into his neck. Her eyes flickered with such naked want that his other hand slid down against the wall helplessly.
She swallowed hard. And then her eyes narrowed.
"I want to do that to you."
What.
His stomach flipped. And then Ji-pyeong repeated the only word in his head out loud without even realizing it.
"What?"
Mi-rae's fingers slipped back from his neck and up the sides of his face. He heard people walking behind them and watched as her eyes followed them. When their chatter floated away around a corner, her eyes locked once again with his.
"You heard me."
Ji-pyeong blinked, still stunned. Her fingers began to caress his cheeks.
"You have had so much on your shoulders. So many decisions, so much responsibility."
Her eyes were now warm but searching.
"I want to give you one night when you don't have to think at all." She nodded to herself as much as him. "I want to do that for you."
Ji-pyeong did not know what to say. Mi-rae had just turned everything that he had imagined upside down. He had never been with anyone like that.
The sound of the music from the last room grew louder. Mi-rae bit her lip as her eyes squeezed shut.
"Nevermind."
A bolt of panic tore through him. And then he knew how much he wanted her to.
"No I —"
Her eyes flew open. His jaw clenched and he pulled her closer by her dress. The sequins rubbed roughly against his palm.
"I want you to."
There was a sudden desperation in his voice that surprised both of them. Ji-pyeong released her dress as if it was suddenly hot to the touch and tried to steady himself.
"Do you mean..." He cleared his throat. "Do you mean tonight?"
Her lips opened; red followed by pink. And then Mi-rae nodded.
Oh god.
Ji-pyeong let out a shaky breath as he moved even closer. And then he lowered his forehead to hers.
"I have done things like that before but not ... not that way."
A small smile tugged up the corner of her mouth as she considered his careful word choice. Then Mi-rae passed her thumbs softly along the line of his jaw.
"I have never done anything like that at all."
And then her hands started to slip away as Mi-rae looked down to draw a deep breath. Ji-pyeong caught one small hand inside his own and raised it to his lips. She was so endearingly vulnerable like this despite the audacity of her proposal. It was a precious gift that she trusted him to share such desires; that her intent was to give him a respite from responsibility made his throat tighten with emotion. Ji-pyeong waited for her to look at him before he gently opened her hand. He pressed his lips to the warmth of her palm. Her eyelids fluttered as her fingers curled towards his kiss.
Ji-pyeong wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled both of their hands down between them.
"Then it will be the first time for both of us."
A slow smile curved its way up her lips. Mi-rae nodded slowly.
Ji-pyeong squeezed her hand.
"Do you want to go to another room or leave now?"
Mi-rae bobbed up and down on her toes for a moment that was measured out by the rapid beats of his heart. And then she reached up and pressed her lips softly to his. It was a kiss that lingered. His mind went blank at the careful sweetness in the way that she brushed her mouth along his. And then Mi-rae pulled away and looked up at him through her dark lashes.
"Another room."
Her voice was gentle but firm. Ji-pyeong allowed himself to be led away in a daze.
What exactly does she want to do?
Wild possibilities rushed through his head. Ji-pyeong stared at the slash of black hair guiding him across the marble chess board floor. This was the first image that he had ever seen of his wife; precise sharp lines daring for order to be upended. In Mi-rae's paradoxical discipline and passion, Ji-pyeong had found the only person who had ever challenged him in every way while offering shelter no matter what. That beautiful dichotomy was only deepening with the comfort and intimacy of marriage. He was even more wildly in love with her now than when he had slipped an emerald onto her finger.
Tonight she was proposing his submission out of care. It was surprising. And yet he was suddenly desperate for it. Mi-rae had reached inside the deepest part of him and discovered something there that he never knew that he needed.
Ji-pyeong allowed himself to be led past door after door. There was a blessed relief in not having to make a choice. The steady sound of her heels, the seductive electronic tones drifting in and out like the tide, and the warm secure pull of Mi-rae's hand guided him. Finally, she stopped at a pair of elaborately carved wooden doors. Mi-rae's fingers slipped away to push one of them open.
A wave of shimmering music washed over Ji-pyeong. His eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the low turquoise light of this secret den. An electronic pulse ebbed and flowed with the shadows of people dancing together slowly all around. Everything was drenched in an eerie aqua glow, like they were breathing underwater. The room beckoned to allow his senses to rule over all else.
Mi-rae turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him. Red now appeared purple in the strange light. But black still curved just above her shoulder, bare but for a slender silver strap. The beloved shape of his wife bathed in blue was like a familiar map turned upside down.
And then she kept walking. Ji-pyeong slid his hands into his pockets and cocked his head as she moved away from him.
Mi-rae did not stop until she reached the middle of the dance floor. She slid her arms in the air. The aqua light shimmered across her silver dress, casting stars on the people dancing all around her. Then her hips began to move back and forth with the music.
Slowly. Purposefully. Suggestively.
She was inviting him to watch her. And then touch her. And move his body with her.
For a moment, he remained in delicious suspension. Ji-pyeong loved to see Mi-rae where she always deserved to be. At the center of things. And in command of her own power. And free. A tingling sensation spread through his body as he watched his wife dance for him. His eyes traced the lilting lines of her arms; the shifting blades of her shoulders, the slow rocking of her backside. He was spellbound as the seductive undercurrent of music and light wound its way into his mind. His thoughts turned around in a circle with her. Light glanced off of her as if she was in command of a swirling galaxy.
Mi-rae looked at him over her shoulder again. He caught the hint of a smile.
It was a dare.
His teeth sank into his lip.
Oh now I'm coming.
Ji-pyeong stretched his neck. And then he was striding across the dance floor. And wrapping his arm around her. And pulling her back against his chest. His fingers fanned across her belly; sequins reprimanded his liberties but he paid them no heed.
Her stomach pulled in a sharp breath under his palm. Ji-pyeong lowered his face to her shoulder just to breathe in the scent of her. Her arm curved around the back of his neck to draw him closer.
Their bodies began moving together to the slow pace of the song. Other couples around them were far more daring in their displays of desire. But Ji-pyeong closed his eyes and let Mi-rae and the music guide him. The curve of her backside brushed deliciously against him, back and forth, like a loving tease. His body responded just as she intended. He could not understand the breathy voice of the woman singing but he recognized the yearning.
Mi-rae turned around and entwined her arms around his neck. She looked up at him as his hands slid around her waist to the small of her back. And then everyone else melted away. There was only her — her eyes fixed on his face, her lips opening as her tongue traced just inside, her fingers slipping into his hair at the base of his neck.
Their hips moved together with the rising tide of the music. Ji-pyeong watched Mi-rae draw in a breath. Here in this place infused with blue light and shadow, he wanted to breathe the very air inside her lungs— to chase that which could so easily become a part of her while he was confined by a body defined by boundaries.
Ji-pyeong dropped his lips down to hers. Her mouth accepted his surrender.
Mi-rae tenderly claimed the peaks of his lips first. He floated outside of himself as she bewitched him. Her fingers traced circles into his scalp. And then she slowly released him and drew his lower lips between her own. His hands dragged up against the sharp edges of her dress, accepting their reproach until smooth skin offered safe haven. His fingers spanned across her back. And then he begged his way inside her mouth.
Mint. Lime. Rum. Her.
He could not hold himself back. Ji-pyeong chased the taste of her. Mi-rae surged into his arms. And then they gave in to the insatiable pull between them.
Her hands were in his hair as Ji-pyeong pulled her against his body. Inhibitions ebbed away as he lost himself to the wet warmth of her mouth. Her breath was his now so his hands roved greedily in search of more. They consumed one another in an aqua haze.
A body collided with Ji-pyeong's shoulder, forcing him to break off their kiss. He blinked through the black spots before his eyes as he regained his footing. Mi-rae shoved her hands into her hair. Her chest was heaving. Her eyes darted back and forth as she gasped for air. The lipstick was gone. They were standing in the center of a crowd now jumping up and down. The room had evolved all around them while they had remained in their own world.
A sly smile curved up Mi-rae's lips. And then she seized his hand and started pulling. They wound their way around bodies twisting and turning to increasingly louder music. Mi-rae did not stop until they reached a corner beyond the edge of the dance floor. She spun around suddenly and before Ji-pyeong knew what was happening, he was being shoved against the wall.
His hands froze in the air in surprise. Mi-rae quickly captured his smile with her own. Sequins scraped against his palms as he pulled her closer. Her kiss was insistent, messy and wet. Her hands slipped under his jacket and wildly explored his chest and back through his t-shirt.
And then a hand was sliding down. Her wily fingers found the hard length of him beneath the fabric of his trousers. A puff of satisfaction escaped from her lips upon discovering how he so obviously wanted her.
She began to rub. The friction of fabric and her hands made him gasp. Chaotic music hammered between his temples. Ji-pyeong grew dizzy as she boldly teased him. Everything about the way his wife was kissing him — touching him — left no doubt as to how much she wanted him too. It was surreal; for her to be driving him into a frenzy in this dark corner. And yet it was so freeing: to do what they wanted when they wanted whether they were supposed to or not. Ji-pyeong was soon sliding down against the wall, breathless.
But then her hand stilled. And Mi-rae broke away. Her eyes remained closed as she pressed her forehead against his. Her head turned into his as if she was waging some great battle within. Her lips glistened in the aqua glow.
Her eyes opened. And the way that she was looking at him made Ji-pyeong's mouth go dry. Her pupils raced back and forth until her hands once again seized his lapel.
"I can't stop thinking about everything that I want to do with you."
She confessed it as if they were not already husband and wife. The image of the blindfolded woman flashed through his head.
Ji-pyeong swallowed hard. His hands flexed in anticipation.
"Then take me home."
*******
Mi-rae's hands slowly unfurled.
Ji-pyeong stared at the long black stretch of black silk and the purple scarf lying across her palms.
Two?
He tilted his head curiously. Ji-pyeong recognized the black silk as the tie to her robe. And then a smile teased at his lips as he remembered her wearing the scarf with her black overcoat to the airport. Everyday objects were being solemnly presented as instruments of seduction by his wife. It was adorable. He released a breath as a tingling combination of affection and exhilaration spread throughout his limbs.
They were sitting side by side on the bed of their hotel room. He had expected her to command him in a frenzy like at the club. Wild scenarios ran rampant in his head during the cab ride home. But instead, Mi-rae had quietly asked him to sit on the bed and wait for her. Now she was gingerly laying out the pieces of fabric between them as if they possessed a power beyond her.
When she had finished, Mi-rae folded her legs under her body. Sequins rustled loudly in the silence. The room was dark but for a lamp in the far corner by the sliding glass doors to the terrace.
Mi-rae looked up at the ceiling and released a small sigh before meeting his gaze again. Her eyes were wide.
"I don't know why I feel so nervous." Her hand fluttered to her throat as she leaned towards him. "Do you feel nervous?"
Ji-pyeong touched her knee gently.
"Mi-rae, it's still us."
A shy smile emerged as her reply. And then Mi-rae sat up a little straighter.
"I want to talk about this first."
Ji-pyeong shifted on the bed. He rubbed the back of neck awkwardly.
"Mi-rae, I trust you. We don't have to...."
She shook her head vigorously. And then Mi-rae grabbed both of his hands. Her grasp was firm but her hands were warm.
"We have to talk about things like this out loud. You have always done that for me. Remember?"
I remember.
The memory of the first time that they had shared a bed launched a swirl of emotion within his chest. She had trusted him even when he did not comprehend how much.
His throat tightened.
This was so very different then the games he played with other women. They told him who they wanted him to be. And he became it. And then he left. No woman had ever taken care of him like this before Mi-rae. Even after months of sharing a bed as his wife, she refused to take his comfort for granted.
God how I love her.
He clenched his jaw to steady himself. And then Ji-pyeong nodded silently.
Mi-rae ran her fingers along the black silk on the white duvet between them.
"Is it okay to wrap this around your eyes?"
He was expecting this. It made his fingers gather the duvet into his fists anyway.
"Yes."
Her hand hovered above the black silk as she let out a deep breath. And then she pointed to the scarf.
"And if I tie this around your hands. Is that okay? Please be honest, my love."
Ji-pyeong blinked quickly as he imagined his hands above his head while his wife touched him as she pleased.
Your hands are going to stay here.
The memory of her words as she placed his hands above his head sent a tremor of excitement through his body. He looked back up at her.
"Like our wedding night."
Mi-rae's mouth dropped open.
"You remember that?"
Ji-pyeong lowered his head and gave her an incredulous look. Mi-rae squeezed her eyes shut and then her hands flew to her face.
She is so nervous.
His wife was so often a force of nature in his arms. But now her hands were fluttering. And her cheeks were flushed. All because of the prospect of this new intimacy between them. She was even more bewitching in her sweet intentionality. Ji-pyeong inched closer to her.
"Yes. I am more than okay with that."
Mi-rae just looked at him. Her eyes were soft and full of so much love. Ji-pyeong sucked in a breath and held it.
She reached up to cup his cheek.
"If there is anything you want me to do or not do, just tell me."
She whispered it softly as she stroked his jaw with her thumb.
Ji-pyeong nodded.
Still Mi-rae waited.
"I will."
His voice was hoarse. Ji-pyeong hurriedly drank in every detail of her face before they began. The brown of her eyes contained endless depths, like her. Her cheekbones seemed small and delicate here in the low gold light. And yet her brows and chin signaled the strength that he had come to rely on. The blunt ends of her dark hair were blurred now; errant strands curved in whatever direction that they pleased. Her lips were bright pink and chapped from kissing him.
This was when Mi-rae was most beautiful to him. Because this was the way that she looked only for him. When they were alone, like this.
Her lips then spoke the only thought echoing in his head.
"I love you."
He let out a shuddering breath. It was all that he could manage. Words were such meager things; they could not capture the fierce love swelling in his heart. None of this was what he anticipated. Ji-pyeong expected Mi-rae to give orders. To play a role. And he would abide by it. But this was gentle; intimate. The quiet in the room felt sacred. And her fingers were stroking his face to tell him that he was precious. Her kindness was turning him inside out.
Mi-rae's index finger traveled slowly up his cheek and around the shape of his eye. Then her other hand repeated the caress. His focus grew fuzzy. Ji-pyeong's heart began to race as she then picked up the black silk. He preemptively closed his eyes.
Her lips just barely pressed a kiss to his eyelid. Purple and orange burst on the other side. And then she offered her love to the other side of his face as well. A tingling sensation coursed down his spine, curling his fingers deeper into the duvet.
And then silk pressed lightly against his eyelids. And wrapped around his head.
The steady rhythm of her breathing urged his heart to slow down as she tied a knot at the back of his head. But his heart was disobedient. It hammered on.
"Does that feel okay, my love?"
Ji-pyeong opened his eyes. There was only darkness. He closed them again, his eyelashes brushing silk.
"Yes."
Now he had only his other senses to guide him.
There was a sharp hiss.
It's a zipper.
His mind solved this first mystery quickly.
Her dress.
The weight of the bed shifted as sequins rustled loudly. There was a hollow metallic sound like beads falling onto the tile floor. And then he sensed the warmth of her body draw closer from above.
But she did nothing.
Ji-pyeong licked his lips and then swallowed.
"Mi-rae?"
"I'm right here, my love."
Her voice was quiet and low. It made the hairs on his arm stand up in anticipation. There was a soft caress across his cheek. And then he felt her hands pull at the top button on his shirt.
Ji-pyeong straightened his back and took a deep breath as the cotton gradually relaxed across his chest. He listened to the muffled sound of buttons succumbing to Mi-rae's fingers. And then air rushed in as she carefully slipped it off of his shoulders and down his arms.
Ji-pyeong lifted his head up as he felt her thigh slide along the inside of his own. He waited anxiously to feel the warmth of her hands on his skin.
Her fingers mercifully began a gentle dance along his shoulders.
The warmth of her fingers on his skin commanded all of his focus. Her touch was extraordinary like this; it was all that he had in the black before his now open eyes. A thousand nerve endings burst beneath the pads of her fingers.
"You are so beautiful, my love."
Her voice was so tender; her hands so loving. His chest ached. The absence of such care for most of his life panged like an old injury on a rainy day. Ji-pyeong had grown accustomed to love. But he had not forgotten what it was like to live without it.
"Lay down, my love."
His entire existence now hinged on the sound of her voice. Her hand slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck and cradled the back of his head as Ji-pyeong lowered his body back onto the bed. A pillow was moved in a hush under him. He stretched his legs out. And then he noticed the sound of the ocean for the first time since returning. The roll of the waves eased the pace of his breathing as his senses intensified in the dark. He was conscious of his bare chest rising and falling into the air. His rib cage expanded and contracted as the sea slipped in and out of his ears.
And then Ji-pyeong waited.
Where is she?
He grew restless in the silence. What was taking her so long? Was she undressing? He wanted to kiss her. And feel the weight of her body on his. Ji-pyeong stretched his arms above his head to encourage her.
But still nothing happened.
Ji-pyeong lifted his head up.
"Mi-rae..."
"Take a deep breath, my love."
She was still standing right above him.
My love.
Every direction was carefully followed by those two words. They wrapped around him like a blanket. And then her palm pressed down on his wrists.
Her touch was warm. And safe. The soft pressure eased away his impatience. His head sank back into the plush depths of the pillow.
And then he did as she said. Ji-pyeong drew in a deep breath and then let it out. A calm slowly spread from his lungs out across his chest. And then he realized.
The waiting is the point.
She wanted him to let go of that constant urgent press from within. That compulsion to manage, to anticipate, to control. It was inherent. But that part of his nature had ruled like a tyrant — pushing the walls in around him, demanding that he look at the clock, check his phone, write down every idea, check each deadline, follow up, review it again. Again. And again. And again until it felt like the ceiling was dropping down on his chest.
Her hand pressed his wrists further into the mattress. And so Ji-pyeong breathed in again. And out. And in and out. He drifted into a pattern of drawing air deeply into his lungs.
His chest felt lighter. His forehead relaxed. His feet splayed apart. And his head fell to the side.
Silk suddenly feathered along the sensitive skin of his arm. Up his tricep. Along his forearm. A tantalizing trail led slowly up to his hands. And then Ji-pyeong felt the bed shift. He turned his head to follow the movement. Her steady breathing grew closer. Jasmine filled his head. And then her hands gathered his wrists together. Silk slid around. A knot pulled against the backs of his hands.
He sensed the length of her body coming to rest beside him. There was a space between them that radiated warmth. Her breath came more quickly now.
"Is that too tight, my love?"
The scarf was firmly tied. And yet he knew that if he tried, he could easily slip his hands free. Ji-pyeong shook his head.
A palm rested lightly on his chest.
"No."
Only then did her fingers spread out slowly across his sternum. They began to fan back and forth across his pectoral muscles.
Oh my god.
She had done it hundreds of times before. But now electricity was moving through her fingers. Ji-pyeong's teeth sank into his lower lip. In the darkness every sense that remained was vibrating on a higher frequency. Back and forth, they cast a hypnotic spell. Ji-pyeong lost track of where she was. He stopped thinking about what was going to happen next. And he floated to the peaceful place where her fingertips led.
Her hand feathered down to his belly. The smallest circle across his abdomen made Ji-pyeong gasp. It was as if Mi-rae had seeped into his nervous system.
Her hand stopped. And then the smell of jasmine grew stronger. Ji-pyeong listened to the wet sound of her mouth opening.
"I'm right here, my love."
Her breath was a warm caress against his neck. And then pleasure trailed down to the edge of his pants. Up and down, her hands lulled him into a suspended state. He grew thick with want. And yet her fingers whispered secret messages across his skin. To be patient. To enjoy feeling good. That everything he wanted would come to him. Her touch guided his mind like a lantern in the dark. Across his stomach. Slipping just under his waist. Back up his chest and along his arms.
And then it stopped.
And the bed was shifting again.
He felt a pull at his hips. The sound of a zipper pierced the silence. He swallowed as his pants and briefs were tugged down. She had done this more times than he could count but it forced the breath from his chest anyway. Here in the dark with his hands helplessly above his head, he could not urge her on. He could not show her how much he wanted it. He could not touch her in return. Everything was about him; offered to him; for him.
There was nothing for him to do but wait.
His wife's hands began trailing up the inside of his thighs like ten live wires. His eyes squeezed shut even to the black before them. His breath grew ragged.
Fucking hell. I will never last.
Ji-pyeong tried to steel himself for what was coming. He already felt like every nerve was exposed. And trembling. And sending nonsensical signals to his brain like urgent messengers who had lost their way.
But then her hands pressed down. She was there. Holding the map. Guiding him.
He breathed in. And he breathed out.
Mi-rae gently pushed his legs open. A brush of her bare calf as she weighed down into the space between his thighs sent a wild rush of excitement through him. But he could not reach for her. His wrists rubbed against each other within their binding. His torso twisted in anticipation. Ji-pyeong was clamoring toward something that he could not see. And he could not control.
Her hands spanned his hips. A gentle hush from her lips invited silence.
Take a breath.
Ji-pyeong could hear her voice in his head. He opened his eyes against the silk. And in that black, with the warm steady feeling of her hands on his body, he took another deep breath. And let it out. Her fingers traced around the points of his hip and towards the center of him like they were reading the map of him.
He took another breath. And released it.
Before Ji-pyeong could imagine what she would do next, a warm wet caress enveloped the tip of him.
Fuck.
The loving kiss forced his fingernails deep into his palms. The pain grounded him to hold on.
And then she pulled him in.
Lush. Hot. Wet. Her.
Ji-pyeong heard himself cry out as he immediately pushed his hips up for more. But her fingers calmed him. She kissed him slowly; her hands lulling him into acquiescence with circles and lines drawn on his abdomen and thighs. The sound of the waves grew louder as her forehead dropped down to his skin. It brushed back and forth against him. His fingers flexed, jealous as the silk of her hair dragged across thigh. He could do nothing but feel her mouth all around him. Ji-pyeong existed solely within the soft ebbing tide of her lips.
And so he treaded water. Trying to stay alive. He bobbed deliciously up to the surface until he was drawn back down with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. She was everywhere. And she was everything. Her mouth closed more tightly around him. A seductive current dragged him under into an exquisite oblivion.
Deep, deep down.
Blood rushed through his veins to her. Her lips commanded how his chest drew breath in and out. His mind filled with fantasies of her pink lips worshiping while her black eyelashes closed; her cheeks filling with him as her mouth grew wet.
He could not see her. But he could feel it all. The length of him throbbed almost painfully in and out the endless soft suck. He could hear it all too: the wet sounds of her mouth moving along the length of him; the murmurs of approval as he began to thrust into the tender space between her lips.
She was like a dream in his head — too good to be real. Pulling at the thread of his memories while she wound his will around her finger. Mi-rae unraveled him minute by minute until he was begging her to fuck him; then pleading with her not to stop; whimpering for a merciful release; but praying that the end would never come. Ji-pyeong died a thousand tiny deaths as he tried to stave off the pleasure demanding to be unleashed.
In not seeing her, Ji-pyeong ascended to a different plane — one where only touch and sound ruled. He could do nothing but succumb. He could do nothing but feel. He could do nothing but listen. His wife's hands were so knowing. They wrote all that they had learned about him onto his skin. Her mouth was lovingly wicked; attending to every inch of him, coaxing him to sigh, and then forcing him to curse and beg beyond reason. Mi-rae accepted his senseless offerings. And then she made him shake with effort not to fill her mouth in a hot rush. It drove his head back in an agonizing ecstasy. His back arched up. His hips bucked in open rebellion. His arms twisted plaintively above his head as silk delicately admonished his wrists. Moans dragged up his throat and into the silence.
And then she was gone.
Air rushed into the wetness she had left behind. He keened helplessly into the black.
"Mi-rae..."
"I'm right here, my love."
Hearing her voice again was like a miracle. And then he realized how close the sound of her breathing was. The lovely flesh of her bare breasts gave way to his chest. His heart stuttered as he discovered that she had always been as naked as him. Jasmine once again tenderly caressed his senses.
Thank god.
Her body was like a compass pointing home. The curves of her fit into his like they always did — but every nerve welcomed her anew. Legs slid down on either side of his thighs. He squeezed his eyes tight at the delicious slide of her skin along his. Orange and white burst behind his eyelids.
Once again, her fingers spanned his face. Her sweet scent filled the space between them. Her breath was shallow and rapid. A thrill curled within him.
She wants me.
Ji-pyeong realized that this was the sound of his wife just before she took him inside of her. It was like hearing the first note to a song that he would know anywhere. And then her fingers were pressing urgently into his jaw. And her hips were rolling as if they already had what they wanted. Her thighs tightened around his. And her hand closed around him, determined.
He braced himself to finally enter bliss.
But then he felt the press of her forehead against his. The weight drew his consciousness to where they were joined together. Mi-rae drew in a breath that was as desperate as the coil of need twisting within him.
For a moment they remained still.
And then her sweet breath wrapped around his heart and pulled it apart with four words.
"You are so loved."
He knew it. Of course he did. It shattered him anyway.
Here as Ji-pyeong lay helpless in her arms, she told him what he had spent a lifetime longing to hear. In the middle of the night in the orphanage. When the cold rain fell on his cheeks standing in the street. In the solitude of his apartment. By the river walking home alone. At the quiet of his desk after everyone had gone. Standing before others proving his worth. In empty hotel rooms longing for her. A simple truth reached back across time and took root inside of him. He was always going to find her. And no matter what, she would always love him.
His chest contracted. A hundred tiny fissures branched open all at once. His forehead pressed up against hers as tears threatened to burst with that truth that he already knew. But needed to hear anyway.
Love.
Love was the one thing that he could never bend to his will. Or predict. Or control. It was always beyond his reach like the white gauze of a dandelion dangling in front of him just before the wind picked it apart. He could wish for it. Try to catch it in his hands. But it always slipped away and scattered.
Love was never his. Until her. And even though he fought like hell for her, it was only now his because Mi-rae had grasped his hand and never let go.
"I—"
Ji-pyeong tried to tell her. But the words broke apart with him.
Mi-rae gathered up the pieces of him. In her arms. With her lips. By the tender embrace of her body. And she carried them all inside of her. And made him whole again. A warm peace spread over him as her hips slowly began to bless his body.
And then her fingers slid up his outstretched arms. She was giving way to him now — her breasts softly caressed his chest as she moved. Her tongue dragged along his between sighs. Finally, her fingers reached silk. And they slipped under. And his hands were suddenly free.
Oh my god.
His heart surged. It was so joyful to close his arms around her. And feel her hair slip through his fingers. And fill his hands with the forgiving curves of her breasts. And welcome the sharp rise and fall of her shoulder blades under his palms. And drift down along the soft parabola of her back until he could sink his fingers into her backside. And gather her closer. And faster. And harder. And kiss her like he needed the air inside of her to breathe. Because, right now, that felt as true as his love for her. Ji-pyeong let himself be carried away by the happy madness of her making love to him.
When the sweet rock of her hips finally brought him to the edge of a cliff, Ji-pyeong opened his eyes to the black that remained around his face. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. He savored the taste of Mi-rae until her lips offered gasps instead. Her head fell to his shoulder as her fingers grasped for mooring. Short bursts of air against his neck confessed how she was now falling apart after keeping him at her mercy for so long.
Ji-pyeong smiled in the darkness. He could easily slide off the silk still binding his sight even now. But he did not. Instead, he remained in the peace that she had forged for him out of love.
He closed his eyes. For he did not need them. Mi-rae was showing him where to go. Leading him to a place where the questions stopped and only answers remained. She had turned darkness on its head like some kind of sorceress. With her, it meant trust. And rapture. And selfless love.
In the black of night, Mi-rae called for him to join her. Silver burst behind his lids as the end came. She could cast stars here too. A thousand points of light scattered across the darkness. He followed them. He was blind but he could see. The stars would guide him home.
*****
You can listen to the following tracks as the soundtrack to Chapter Five at the link below or after the link expires on Spotify Playlists under "Moments With You."
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5YbkITjkPlj2ncpA3AINc4?si=lntnjIQ1QaePhme2VMWXaA&pt=670f364b86d4e2082ebb2c2738b1d946
Como No - Akon featuring Becky G
https://youtu.be/btgR5kUKs3g
Besos Moja2 - Wisin & Yandel, Rosalia
https://youtu.be/W4yXD7z57G4
Lips - The XX
https://youtu.be/GbluEc_sgeY
Shelter - The XX
https://youtu.be/k5QYZ1nuxQs