Taking Advantage, Then Trying to Run - Chapter 2

I tossed my phone aside and tried to steady my breathing.

Sweet baby swan, what had I done?

A kind courier had brought me home, and I’d repaid good with evil, called black white, and run completely amok!

I couldn’t bear to watch any more.

But I had to.

When I woke that morning, my body had been clean.

Someone had changed my clothes, too.

It had to have been the courier.

But she was a man—how could he have…?

I needed to know what else he’d done to me.

Taking a deep breath, I endured the pounding in my skull and tapped the video again.

The courier stood frozen in place for a very, very long time, covered in my vomit.

If the timestamp in the top-right corner hadn’t kept moving, I would have thought the video had stalled.

Several minutes later, the tension drained from her body.

She appeared to accept her fate.

She carried me into the bathroom.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Fortunately, she left the bathroom door open. I could just make out her setting me on the toilet—and then she began taking off her clothes.

I covered my mouth, almost screaming.

What was he doing? What was he doing? What was he—huh?

When the courier pulled off her shirt, a cropped sports bra appeared underneath.

She had breasts.

“He”—no, she. She had breasts!

She was a woman!

“Aaaaaah!”

This time I really did scream.

She was a woman! A woman!

I didn’t even know why I was screaming. I was simply too shocked.

This courier had delivered to my home more than once, always bringing heavy appliances—my refrigerator, washing machine, and so on. My first impression of her had been: *incredibly strong*.

How could I possibly have guessed she was a girl?

She took off her shirt, placed it in the sink, turned on the tap, and began washing away the vomit.

As I watched the girl on-screen, my gaze drifted helplessly toward her body.

Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Abs. Those sharp V-lines at her hips…

Every muscle sat exactly where my heart wanted it.

And the cropped sports bra with those black cargo pants…

It hit every one of my turn-ons.

I clamped both hands over my nose and mouth, my entire face burning.

One second later, the “me” in the video threw herself onto the girl’s back.

“Muscles! Big Brother’s muscles are amazing. Let me have a taste…”

Of course I did.

Even too drunk to tell a human from a cat, I had remembered to cop a feel.

I licked the muscles on the girl’s back. She spun around in fright and shoved me away.

“Ma’am, I-I’m a woman.”

Poor kid. She had clearly never encountered a scene like this—or a ravenous pervert like me. She was still earnestly trying to clarify her sex.

And I, never one to disappoint, followed her cue with a scandalous declaration. “A woman? Heh heh heh. I *love* women.”

—I did not love women!

I covered my mouth and screamed without sound.

Someone save me! My spotless reputation!

My image as a sophisticated, elite executive!

All ruined!

I pounced on her and groped wildly with both hands.

“Baby, you have abs! Oh my God, Jiejie loves them so much…”

Ignoring her attempts to stop me, I crouched down and began licking her stomach.

Help!

I covered my eyes, unable to watch.

Who was that? It wasn’t me!

I had been possessed!

Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to cry for help.

The girl in the video looked ready to do the same.

She braced a hand against my head to keep me away from her abs.

“Ma’am, you’ve mistaken me for someone else!”

She hauled me off the floor.

I clung to her like a monkey and refused to let go.

Then, for no discernible reason, I launched into an old Cantonese song.

“We poor working stiffs! Slaves to money all our li-i-ives! The misery would scare you dead if we told you—don’t say it doesn’t matter!”

When I finished singing, I began to cry again.

“Waaaaah, baby, what’s wrong with letting me have two little bites? Jiejie works so hard and hasn’t tasted muscles in a whole year, waaaaaah…”

She said nothing.