[The Demon's Pact] If it's not in your heart, what's the use of having it?

I don't know when, but March 7th has a new term: Women's Day. Does that mean after this day, you're a queen? This story actually has that feel to it, and it happened just a few days ago.

I met him in a place supposedly frequented by young people. Thinking back to our first meeting, it was a dark and windy night. We stood together at the top of a hundred or so steps, hands behind our backs, in the spring evening breeze, gazing at the city lights, chatting about the everyday things in life.

Initially, we occasionally talked about sex, but without any flirting. We could swirl our wine glasses, drink together in his office at midnight, without any physical contact. It was that simple; the less about sex, the more anticipation there was. He was the one who couldn't resist first.

I called him my drinking buddy, but he didn't seem to address me that way. For a while, drinking buddies used "I miss you" as a signal of need. He started picking me up, but we hardly talked otherwise. Later, I realized he must have a new story, but he didn't want to say it directly. That wasn't right; we had a promise not to hide anything, and he broke it. If our bodies aren't exclusive to each other, what else is proof of mutual trust?

He crossed my line regarding honesty! He acted as if I were dispensable, and I was angry, disdainful, and also regretful and sad… The days of not seeing each other quickly passed, and peace returned. I truly stopped.

Occasionally, I think of my drinking buddy. He didn't have a sharp personality, but he had a keen sensitivity; he didn't have particularly impressive physical attributes, but he had superb kissing skills. Between his lips and tongue, what I felt was pure enjoyment. Someone who initially didn't know if our sexual abilities and rhythms were compatible, I was so vulgarly conquered by his tongue.

I remember the first time we had sex, after resting for a while, he became restless again, and I said, "How about you try licking me?" Seeing the light in his eyes, I jumped onto the sofa and told him to kneel and lick me… That memory often came back later. He really liked it, as if only that could satisfy him, much like a picky eater who only loves a certain dish. He loved my wetness, loved my tight embrace, and especially loved when I sprayed myself on his face and body, making him incredibly excited, pressing his lips completely against my vulva, wasting almost every drop of flavor. That's why he said he'd never find anything like it again…

On March 8th, at 8:30 AM, he arrived at the hotel. Thinking about it, so early, already carrying three different bags: flowers, coffee, and dessert. At 9:30, my drinking buddy said he was getting impatient. But I wasn't the one who was impatient. It was just that he could provide the pleasure I needed perfectly. A renewed desire, a renewed relationship, but neither of us was anyone's only one, and sex was no longer a topic of discussion, only something we released when needed.

I didn't control what he thought, but there was something I said to him this time: "For a woman, if a man doesn't have her in his heart, what use is that man to her?" He said: "This time I understand myself clearly; thinking about him often just means I can't let go."

Okay, you have your strengths, and I have my needs. Is there any purer relationship between a boyfriend and girlfriend in the world?!

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[The Demon's Pact] If it's not in your heart, what's the use of having it?

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