By now Inoue had found his rhythm, his confidence restored. Even his English flowed more easily between breaths as he moved, focusing his energy on steady, deliberate motion. At first he kept it shallow, careful—building tension instead of rushing to the end.
Kate responded to everything, her voice rising in sweet, broken sounds that filled the room.
"Ahh~ ahh—hahh~"
Her body clenched around him with surprising strength. Perhaps she had been carried close to the edge already by his earlier touch and skill, because each movement seemed to draw a shudder that tightened around him like a vice.
He bit down on his lip, trying to hold on.
God, even slow like this it's too much. She's perfect… face, body, everything.
The urge to finish burned inside him, and he thought for a moment that he should pull away—he wasn't even wearing protection. But just then Kate cried out, her voice breaking into a scream.
"Aahh! Ahh! Oh—God! I'm coming!"
Her whole body went taut, trembling violently as her climax overtook her. The moment pushed Inoue past his own threshold. He increased his pace, harder, faster, until the pressure he'd been holding back exploded. At the last instant he withdrew, desperate not to spill inside her.
He finished with a ragged groan, his body shaking as he emptied the last of his strength, breath tearing from his throat.
And then—
"Filthy little Asian."
The voice cut through the haze like ice water poured over his head.
"You bastard," the voice continued. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
Inoue froze. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
George Bradley.
Before he looked back, his eyes flicked once to Kate. She had told him not to worry, to just enjoy himself—but now, with her husband's voice filling the room, she refused to meet his gaze. She turned her head away, silent, offering him nothing.
What? Just like that?
But George's voice boomed again.
"If you're finished, get the hell out!"
Even with his broken English, Inoue understood perfectly. His body went cold. Slowly, he slipped off the bed, lowering his head, unable to meet the man's eyes. He covered himself with one hand, shame burning his skin.
Clothes, he realized suddenly. I can't leave naked. He scanned the room helplessly.
"Hurry up and get out!" George barked.
"Uh… clothes…" Inoue muttered weakly, half-apologizing.
George spat back, his meaning clear enough. "Your clothes are outside. Now get out of my sight!"
Inoue staggered into the hallway, bare and humiliated. The house was a maze of wealth—vast and gleaming. He passed into a cavernous living room, the marble floor cold against his feet, a chandelier scattering light like diamonds. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side; a grand fireplace dominated the other, crowned by what looked unmistakably like a Picasso.
And there, folded neatly on the enormous L-shaped sofa, were his clothes.
Seeing them, his stomach twisted with guilt.
Maybe George hadn't brought me here as an act of kindness after all.
But it didn't matter what the intent had been. The truth was undeniable: he had just slept with George Bradley's wife.
As he dressed, his imagination filled the gaps: the old husband, weakened by age, unable to satisfy her; the reckless young foreigner brought into their home, seized upon by Kate without hesitation.
He sighed heavily and glanced back at the closed bedroom door. His instincts had betrayed him, and he had surrendered to the moment without a fight.
Did he regret it? He asked himself honestly.
The answer came as quickly as the question.
"No. Never."
A one-night stand with a Hollywood actress—too intoxicating to regret. Even if it meant offending George Bradley, even if it meant danger. Some pleasures were too vivid to deny.
I'll keep my mouth shut, he promised silently. This will be my secret, my memory, for life.
With that vow, he stepped out into the night. But the sweetness of the encounter soured almost immediately, like too much chocolate clinging bitter on the tongue. Reality rushed back in.
My money's gone. I've got nothing left. Where do I even go from here?
***
Inoue Tachibana was staying at a motel run by Japanese. Los Angeles was so wide and confusing that he had no choice but to call the owner for directions. Thankfully, the man had kindly guided him, and at last he managed to return to his room.
He washed up quickly and collapsed on the bed just as the sun was rising.
Today's sun rises with today. Is that what this means?
It felt strangely like a message from God, a reminder not to lose hope. After all, God had given him a gift the night before—a night of fire with Kate. If George Bradley kept his silence, maybe that encounter could even become fuel for a new beginning.
Yeah. After I sleep, I'll wake up and make a plan. What to do, how to live from here.
Exhausted from the night's "battle" and the trek back to his room, his eyes drifted shut. But just as he began to sink into sleep, something blurred appeared in his vision. It grew clearer, more defined, until it became the figure of a man. Inoue jolted upright, terrified.
Wh-what is this? A ghost?
He had half-believed in such things, and now his mind began racing through his sins one by one. And the worst of them—he had slept with George Bradley's wife. Could this apparition be a reaper, come to drag him to the afterlife?
The figure opened its mouth.
"Hey. Remember me?"
Inoue squinted, then gasped.
"Y-you're—?"
It was George Bradley himself.
"You remember, then."
"H-how… how is this possible?"
George sighed.
"Well… I just died."
Inoue blinked in disbelief. A heart attack, George explained, the result of a life lived too recklessly. And yet here they were, talking as if nothing were strange about it—George in English, Inoue in Japanese—somehow understanding each other perfectly.
"Why come to me? Don't scare me like this. You're not here to drag me off for what I did with your wife, are you?"
"Why not?" George said dryly.
Inoue swallowed hard—only for George to burst out laughing.
"Relax. I'm joking. I don't have the power, or the will, for that. I just didn't have anyone else in mind. Before heading off to the afterlife, your face popped into my head. Guess the memory was strong."
Inoue flushed crimson. Of course he knew which memory—the blazing night with George's young wife.
"Don't look like that," George said, chuckling. "I was the one who picked you up and threw you to Kate."
"What…?"
"You heard me. Age caught up with me. My body couldn't keep pace with my desire. You can't know how frustrating that is. Eventually, I started finding young men for her myself."
"And I was one of them?"
"Exactly. Kate once said she wanted an Asian man. That night at the strip club, I spotted you. Had my men bring you home."
Inoue was struck speechless.
George only grinned wider. "But come on, wasn't it good? Not just because she's my wife. Out of all the women I've been with, Kate's the finest. Tightest, sweetest."
"Well… yeah. She was… incredible," Inoue admitted, almost against his will.
George went on as if nothing were strange. "Truth is, Kate wasn't always satisfied. Young men are usually clumsy. White boys don't know what they're doing, Black guys just think size is all that matters. Very few had any finesse."
"Ha… ha…"
"But you," George said, pointing a ghostly finger at him, "you were the best. Kate was pleased. Hell, even I felt a surge of strength down there again, just watching. Haven't had that in years."
"Uh… did you really need to tell me that…?" Inoue muttered, squirming.
George only smirked. "Listen. Maybe I've got something hidden away you'd like."
"What do you mean…?"
"Money."
Inoue blinked. "Wait… are you serious?"
"I had to hide plenty," George said. "Men like me always do. The government bleeds us dry with taxes. I stashed away more than you'd think."
Inoue's pulse quickened. Hidden fortune? Cash? Gold? For the first time, his ears perked up.
"One hundred percent real. Cash, jewels, gold. And I'll tell you where it is."
"W-where?"
"In my house, my villas. Secret spots only I know. But there's a condition."
Of course there was. Nothing came free in this world. Inoue braced himself.
"What condition?"
"You split it with Kate."
"What? She doesn't even know about it?"
"Of course not. Neither my ex-wife nor Kate ever knew. But listen—don't give her half all at once. She's naïve, gullible. She'd lose it all to some scam. She's been tricked before, that's why she has nothing left. If I hadn't paid off her debts, she'd have been on the street."
"I… didn't know that…"
Inoue was stunned. Kate Bretzel, Hollywood star, known to the world as a glamorous actress, secretly destitute? He never imagined her life was like that.