Lyndelle gave a breathy moan, which seemed to please her client, as indicated in his quickening movement. Beneath her, the lumpy bed gave a rusty creak. She scoffed. They seriously need to get some new beds around here. She turned her head slightly towards the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. 11:23. Almost done for the night.

She focused her attention back to the man on top of her and gave another well-practiced moan, spreading her legs as she arched her back. That got a reaction out of him straight away. His breathing became erratic, and he thrust even wilder. She smirked. It was his favorite move. She'd have him cumming within minutes.

"Ooh... yes... there... ah... harder..." Being vocal in bed wasn't Lyndelle's favorite thing to do, but he was a VIP customer, and knowing his kink for dirty talk, she was willing to play along. Writhing and squirming like a nymph, she pretended to enjoy this supposedly intimate session just like him.

With one final push, he let out a guttural groan, and she felt the familiar swell of the condom inside her. Finally. She waited patiently for him to return from his orgasmic high and gave him a shove. "Get off," she said.

He seemed peeved at the abrupt order but did as he was told. He went to the bathroom and switched on the lights, flooding the dimly-lit room with a pale fluorescent glow. A while later, the sounds of running water filled the room.

Lyndelle stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, idly tracing the cracks with her finger. The windowless room felt suffocating yet oddly comforting, a prison that offered temporary shelter from the prying eyes of a judgmental society. Outside, the raucous laughter and clinking glasses told her the party was still ongoing, though not as loud as before. Everyone is working tonight, she thought with a twisted smile.  

The bathroom door opened. Now refreshed, he walked out and handed her a bathrobe. "You seem distracted tonight," he said.

She put it on and got out of bed. "Did I?" She asked calmly. He shrugged and stared at her unwaveringly as if expecting her answer.

"I have a lot on my mind," she told him in a clipped tone.

He frowned. "Like what? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

She ignored him and looked around for her clothes. She did what she was paid for, and Lyndelle had no intention of staying overtime.

"Lyndelle?"

Something snapped inside of her, and she whirled around at lightning speed. "Don't call me that," she shouted.

Immediately, he held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Lyn. I forgot." He sighed. "There's no need to be upset."

Lyndelle took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She tried to remember those meditation sessions her friend and co-worker Ha-Na made her do whenever she had trouble controlling her temper. "Your emotions are a part of you, but they are not you," she'd say. "Lyn, you are strong. You can be better. Don't let your emotions take over your life."

They were kind of silly, but Lyndelle found them useful. Works better than going to that shrink back in Chicago, she thought. She took one more deep breath and opened her eyes. Clad in her underwear, she found her dress and put it on, struggling with the zipper on the back.

A pair of hands stopped her. "Let me."

Lyndelle stiffened but stood still. "Thanks," she mumbled once he finished. She grabbed her silver purse from the nightstand and went to the bathroom.

"When are you coming home?"

She snorted. "What home?"

He sighed. "Please don't be stubborn. Your family misses you very much."

Her temper flared up again. "What family?" she spat out. "Ben committed murder, and they bent over backward to keep him out of jail. I made one little mistake, and they kicked me out." She brunched her reddish-blonde hair into a bun and secured it with a hairpin. "It sure gives me a pretty good idea of where I stand in the family, or should I say, ex-family," she added mockingly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's more complicated than that, Lyn." He tried to explain. "Your father has a lot at stake here. Ever since your brother's car accident 13 years ago –"

"He was drunk-driving, and he killed a woman," Lyndelle corrected him. "Stop downplaying what he did and tell it like it is. Ben is a murderer, and instead of taking responsibility like a man, he –"

"Don't say another word!" he commanded in a stern voice.

"– hid behind daddy dearest and begged him to make his problem go away." Lyndelle's blue eyes flashed in triumph at the sight of his crestfallen face. "Don't look at me like that; I'm just telling the truth. Let's face it. Father would never let anything happen to his precious golden boy, but me? He's just waiting for the first chance to get rid of me."

"I agree," he admitted. "Your father shouldn't have sent you away, but he is sorry for what he has done," he said. "The money, the emails, the plane tickets, can't you see he's trying to make up for it? That he's trying to make things right?" His desperate eyes begged for her understanding.

Lyndelle narrowed her eyes. Without another word, she slinked up to him and caught a waft of his cedar wood cologne. "The first wedding anniversary gift from my wife, 37 years ago," she once heard him mentioned. "It's the only cologne I ever use." Her lips twitched as she reached up and caressed his face. The wrinkles around his eyes were more apparent since she last saw him, but his deep brown eyes still held that twinkle she'd loved as a child.

"They still don't know, do they?" She whispered in his ear. "They have no idea the wrong man went to jail for Ben's crimes."

The next she knew, she was flung onto the bed. Laughing, she sat up. "What, you want another round? Sorry, but our agency has a strict policy on providing extras that aren't included in the packages. You should've gone for the $420 package."

"Shut up!" he roared. Instinctively, Lyndelle glanced at the door. Judging by the ongoing laughter and chatter, it'd seem the party outside was unaffected by his sudden outburst. 

"Awww what's the matter? Are you afraid someone might find out?" Lyndelle chuckled. "Don't you worry, my agency prides itself on being 100% discreet. Like you, we have a reputation to maintain."

She ignored his angry expression and got up. "If he wants to make amends, tell him to stop protecting Ben," she said, continuing their conversation. "Otherwise, he can keep making up excuses for why his daughter has been abroad for so long."

"Don't –"

Lyndelle cut him off. "He lost the right to tell me what to do the day he threw me out," she said. "I don't know why he wants me to go back, and to be honest; I don't give a shit." She closed her purse with a snap. "Not anymore."

She went to the doorway and put on her silver stilettos. "You can run along now and report back to my father," she said with a dismissive wave. "Though you might want to leave out the part about your sleeping with his daughter," she added as an afterthought.

"I doubt he'll care, but I bet your wife will."

With that, Lyndelle left the room.

--------------------------------------------

Her phone rang just as she exited the club. The name 'Ha-Na' flashed across the screen. She grinned.

"Yeoboseyo!"

"Hi. You finished?"

A gentle breeze blew past her, causing her to shiver. She wrapped her white jacket tighter around her body."Ne," Lyndelle answered cutely. What started as a way to teach each other English and Korean had turned into a strange little game for them.

"Good. Stay at my place tonight. Buses to Insadong all gone, and it's not safe in subway."

Lyndelle felt a warmth spread through her heart. "Komawo, Ha-Na ya," she said.

"No need to thank me. We're friends, yes? Besides, I'm bored, lonely and horny. I want free company."

The unpleasant events back in the private room flew out of Lyndelle's head as she laughed. "All right, you cheapskate, I should be there in about 15 minutes."

Ha-Na squealed. "Ha! You speak English. I win! I pick what we watch tonight!"

Lyndelle groaned but smiled. "Anything but 'Full House,'" she warned.

"Okay! See you later, alligator!" Ha-Na chirped. Lyndelle laughed again and said goodbye. With her improved mood, she looked around at the vibrant district in wonder. The colorful neon signs, the delicious-smelling food stalls, the constant activities wherever she went, every day was a brand new adventure for her. To think they want me to go back. She shook her head and began to walk.

She was about to cross the street when her phone rang again. Lyndelle checked the ID and groaned.

"Hi, Will."

She was met with deafening music. "Lyn, where are you? You gotta come down here!"

Lyndelle rolled her eyes. "Where's 'here,' exactly?"

The noise in the background nearly drowned out his answer. "Octagon. Kat's birthday party, remember?"

Shit! Lyndelle had forgotten about that. It was all Kat would talk about for the last couple of weeks.

"You still there?"

"Uh, yeah." Lyndelle looked around. She spotted an approaching cab and quickly waved it over. She greeted the driver politely as she got into the car and gave him the destination. "I'll be there in about 10," she told Will.

"Awesome! See you then!" The line went dead.

Lyndelle leaned her head back against the seat. Ha-Na is not going to like this. She took out her phone and stared at Ha-Na's number. She pondered about calling her to explain the situation but decided to send a text instead. We planned Kat's birthday celebration weeks ago. I can't skip out on them, she reasoned. Quickly, she typed a quick apology about the sudden change of plans and pressed send.

I hope she understands.

--------------------------------------------

Dong-Hyun Kim yawned as he dragged the broomstick aimlessly across the floor. At night, Octagon was an electrifying place, but come morning, all that remained were half-eaten food, empty bottles and glasses, and three stories worth of trash. The downside of working at one of the hottest clubs in Seoul, he thought.

"Dong-Hyun!" His manager walked up to him. "They need you outside. The collectors will be here soon!" He took the broomstick from his hands. "I'll get someone else on this."

"Yes, manager Cho," Dong-Hyun answered politely with a quick bow. Inside though, he was cursing up a storm. Packing up soju bottles was not how he wanted to end his shift. It was time-consuming, physically demanding, but unfortunately required by law. It was a job nobody wanted to do, so naturally, it fell on him, the newbie.

He walked out of the club and was greeted by a bunch of scattered boxes, all filled with empty glass bottles.

"Oh, good, you're here," his co-worker called out in relief.

Dong-Hyun forced a smile. "What can I do to help?" he asked politely.

The older man gestured to the boxes on the ground. "The collectors will be here soon. I've already sorted the trash. All you need to do is move them closer to the street so they won't need to walk back and forth to pick them up," he explained.

Dong-Hyun nodded. "I will get to it straightaway," he said.

"Thanks," his co-worker replied. With a wave goodbye, he went back inside.

Alone, Dong-Hyun's polite façade dropped, and his smile faded into a scowl. Grumbling, he picked up one of the boxes and began to make his way towards the edge of the street. The distance wasn't a long one, but the repetitive walk between the two spots plus the weight of the heavy boxes had turned it into a strenuous workout for Dong-Hyun. Add in the fact that he just went through an overnight shift meant he was on the verge of collapsing.

Yawning, he straightened his body into a stretch. As he did, he caught a glint of silver in the alley next to the club. Curious, he walked closer, ignoring the remaining boxes on the ground.

What have we here? 

Tentatively, he picked up the silver purse. Dong-Hyun never cared for fashion, but his experience at the club taught him that this wasn't just some cheap knock-off. Why anyone would leave a Louis Vuitton purse in the alley was beyond him. He opened it, hoping to find some identification of the owner. Instead, his eyes widened at the sight of the huge wad of cash inside.

There has to be at least a million won here! Dong-Hyun's mind went into a frenzy at the discovery. With his laughably-low paycheck, it would take at least a year to earn this amount of money, yet here it was, sitting inside a purse, staring invitingly back at him.

It's not yours, a little voice reminded him. Still, Dong-Hyun couldn't look away from the money. His mind struggled for any form of rationality as he mulled over what to do. Give it to his manager? God only knew what that money-loving bastard would do. Hand it over to the police? What would he get out of it? He searched the purse again, hoping to find a name, but other than a set of keys attached to an L-shaped keychain and some makeup, there was nothing.

A loud blast caused him to look up. The collectors have arrived. In a flash, he dropped the purse and rushed out of the alley. Dong-Hyun greeted the collectors and gave them a quick wave. He picked up a box and walked towards them, all the while ignoring the slight feeling of guilt gnawing in his mind, and the thick wad of cash in his jean pocket.