Olivia was still trying to catch her breath, mind spinning with what he’d just whispered, an audience, when Kafka suddenly stepped back from her just far enough to slip one hand into his pant pocket.
When he drew sothing out, she saw the flash of black silk first. Then he was pressing a small, neatly folded bundle into her hands.
"What...What is this?" Her fingers curled around the soft fabric without thinking.
He smiled, that knowing, lazy, almost dangerous smile that told her he’d been planning this.
"I’ve been holding on to this for a while." He said lightly, like it was nothing at all. "I wanted to give it to you earlier...but you were in one of your moods." His eyes dipped over her flushed face, the way she was still gripping her breasts protectively. "Figured you’d probably just get pissed and throw it at ."
"Kafi..." She looked down at the fabric in her palms, the silk whispering against her skin.
"But now..." His smile deepened, eyes glinting. "Now feels like the perfect ti. Go on. Open it."
Her thumbs hesitated before she slowly unfolded the garnt.
The mont the pieces unfurled, her breath hitched. Her face went pink from cheeks to ears, and she nearly dropped it altogether.
"K-Kafi, I...I can’t wear this." Her voice pitched high with disbelief.
It wasn’t just revealing, it was practically missing its reason for existing. The cups were cut in such a way that nothing was hidden, thin straps crisscrossing but leaving the most intimate parts completely open.
The panties were worse, if you could even call them panties, more like a thin fra of elastic and lace that drew the eye to exactly what it was supposed to hide.
"This is...This is defective!" She blurted, holding it up like she could prove her point. "Whoever designed this...they...they didn’t finish it. The places that are supposed to be covered are just—" She waved at it helplessly "—open! It’s not underwear, it’s nothing! Everything will be exposed!"
Kafka’s smugness didn’t falter for a second. "Mm. That’s the point."
Her throat went dry instantly.
She’d heard about garnts like this, read about them in half-hidden articles ant to entice couples, but to actually see one, to feel the scandalously thin lace in her hands, to imagine herself in it...her legs pressed together unconsciously.
And then he made it worse.
"Put it on." He said, casual as anything. "Then co out and show it off to everyone."
"...I have a special little show in mind."
For a mont, it felt like her heart stopped. Her entire body went rigid. Everyone? Her mind flashed to June. The girls. All of them. Seeing her in...this?
It wasn’t just lingerie. It was an exhibition!
"N-No, I can’t—" She began, clutching the scrap of fabric tighter.
But she got no further.
Kafka’s expression shifted in an instant. The lazy smirk vanished, replaced with a cold, dark authority that made the air between them feel heavy. His eyes locked onto hers like steel.
"Mom..." He said, voice low but edged. "You’re not allowed to refuse ."
The finality in his tone made her mouth snap shut.
"Today..." He continued. "We’re celebrating the discovery of your new kink. And there’s no backing out."
He stepped in closer, crowding her space, his gaze pinning her in place as effectively as his hands ever had.
"You will put it on. And you will co out. That’s final."
She swallowed hard, pulse racing. The way he said it, no room for negotiation, no softness, hit sowhere deep in her.
It was in that mont she fully realized: all the tis she’d thought she was steering him, teasing him, making him work for her attention...those were just monts he’d let her play that role.
One sentence from him, one, and she folded...pletely.
Her lips parted, but no sound ca, while Kafka’s eyes softened just enough to let a faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
"Good girl."
Her knees nearly gave out at the words.
He then leaned in then, tilting her chin up with one knuckle, and kissed her, slow, claiming, before pulling back just enough to murmur,
"I’ll be waiting outside."
When he turned and slid the curtain shut behind him, she was left staring down at the black, barely-there lingerie in her hands, her mind reeling of what her son was up to.
—
When Kafka slid the curtain closed behind him, he was still smirking to himself, picturing his mother’s face when she finally stepped out in that obscene scrap of lace.
But the smirk barely lasted three steps as the mont he went outside he saw sothing so shocking, that he was nearly sent sprawling onto the ground
"What the—?"
He couldn’t help but mutter when he saw the bizzare sight in front of him as right in front of him every single employee, and June, were packed into the narrow space outside the trial room door, heads tilted, ears angled toward the curtain like schoolgirls caught up in a gossip session.
Their faces were flushed a deep, telling pink, and their eyes were half-lidded with the kind of focus you only saw in people listening to the final twist of a scandalous radio drama.
And right now, now that they had been caught, the expressions on their faces were sothing to behold, flustered, cheeks red, eyes glazed with guilty focus, like they’d been caught mid top-secret mission and didn’t know whether to salute or bolt.
For a long beat, no one moved.
Then the realization hit them all at once: they’d been caught red-handed.
—
It hadn’t started this way.
When Kafka had gone into the trial room earlier, his temper tightly leashed, June had followed at a careful distance. She’d seen the storm in his face, the sharp, determined stride, and her head was dizzy in fright.
She didn’t want an actual fight to break out, not in here, not between them, so she’d quietly stationed herself nearby, just within earshot, in case she needed to step in.
At first, all she caught were low mumbles, voices too muffled to make out. A shift of fabric here, a scrape of a shoe there.
Then sothing else.
A sound.
June’s brows had drawn together, leaning ever so slightly closer. It had almost been like...
Another sound.
This one was unmistakable, a soft, breathless "mmh!" that had no place in an argunt and her cheeks went hot instantly.
And then, oh heavens, the sucking.
"Slurp!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Ahh!♡~ Nnn! ♡~"
Not dainty sipping, not a little absentminded noise, but deep, wet, obscene sounds that left nothing to the imagination, paired with sharper little gasps that definitely belonged to Olivia.
"Mmmph!♡~ Ahhh!♡~ Nnn!♡~ Suck!♡~"
June had felt the heat climb up her neck so fast she’d almost lost her balance again on her crutch. She’d never, ever expected those kinds of noises to be coming from the ice-queen Olivia, and certainly not when she was supposed to be in the middle of telling Kafka off.
She’d turned, aning to leave, to escape before she heard sothing that would haunt her forever, but the tempo inside had suddenly picked up.
"Mmmph!♡~ Ahhh!♡~ Nnn!♡~ Suck!♡~"
"Slurp!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Ahh!♡~ Nnn! ♡~"
"Ooooh!♡~ Mmph!♡~ Lick!♡~ Ahhh!♡~"
The whimpers got sweeter, higher-pitched. The sucking, wetter, faster. There was even a brief, low growl from Kafka that made June’s knees go weak.
And because of that she stopped dead in her tracks.
Her heart pounded as her imagination painted pictures she really shouldn’t be indulging in.
’What is he doing to her in there?’ She’d thought. ’How hard is he working her body to get sounds like that?’
It was in that mont that one of the younger employees had wandered by and noticed June’s tomato-red face.
"Miss June? Are you all right?"
June had opened her mouth to wave her off, but then the younger woman’s head tilted, her expression shifting as she picked up the exact sa soundtrack coming from behind the curtain.
"Ooooh!♡~ Mmph!♡~ Lick!♡~ Ahhh!♡~
Her lips parted in surprise, then curled into the sa guilty flush as June’s. And just like that...she stayed.
It was a domino effect from there.
Another employee noticed the pair of them standing oddly close to the fitting room. She wandered over. Heard the noises. Stayed.
Then another.
And another.
Before long, every woman in the shop was huddled in front of that single curtain, their eyes locked forward, breathing a little heavier than normal.
Inside, Kafka’s low, dark murmur was just audible between the slick sounds: "Good girl...let taste every inch..." followed by Olivia’s choked whimper.
The more they listened, the warr the air seed to grow.
Soone at the back even whispered. "Lock the door, so that a custor doesn’t co in at this important mont ."
A younger employee slipped away, only to return seconds later, holding up the "Closed for Lunch" sign before hanging it on the shop door.
June saw it, knew exactly what it ant, and didn’t say a word. She should have told them to get back to work. She should have left herself.
But her ears wouldn’t let her.
And just like that, they all stayed rooted, like moths to a fla, hypnotized by the filth coming from Olivia.
There was also a consensus among the gathered employees was unanimous: Kafka, who had always seed so polite, so mild, so gentlemanly, was in fact a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and right now, he was devouring the ice-queen alive.
June’s own throat had gone dry. She’d always known Kafka was a flirt. She’d suspected he could be...intense.
But this?...This was sothing else entirely.
---
And then, the curtain swished open.
Kafka stepped out.
Every single person in that little crowd froze like rabbits under a hawk’s shadow.
His eyes swept the lot of them in one slow, cold pass before they took a step to escape. But before they could even move—
"Stop." Ca Kafka’s voice .
And they all stopped like he said, even the one clerk who’d instinctively turned to bolt the mont the curtain slid.
June, who couldn’t bolt even if she wanted to because of her crutch, also stood rooted to the spot.
That voice...The sharp edge of authority in it...It went straight through them and made them instantly obey them.
Kafka then looked at each of them in turn, his expression unreadable but heavy enough to make everyone feel a certain amount of pressure on them before opening his mouth to speak.
"Now, can anyone tell ..." He asked, voice quiet but carrying. "...what exactly are you all doing here?"
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