Koo was the kind of woman who could make heads turn even if she was just walking to the grocery store in sweatpants — only she never did. She loved her body, loved the way men’s eyes lingered on her curves, and so she always dressed to show herself off. Her skin was porcelain white, smooth and glowing, her lips naturally pink and plump like ripe fruit. Her chest was so full that every blouse seemed too tight, every dress stretched to its limits. Her hips swayed wide, her ass round and heavy, her thighs rubbing softly with each step.

Even as a housewife, she never let herself appear plain. When she was cooking, she wore tiny shorts and a loose tank that slipped off her shoulder, showing off her bra strap. When she cleaned, her cleavage bounced freely under her low-cut tops. She had that kind of face that was both innocent and dangerous — her big eyes framed with lashes, a natural blush in her cheeks, and lips that looked made to be kissed.

She loved staying home, loved the comfort of being pampered by her husband Daeho’s earnings, and she especially loved the little thrill she got when delivery boys, neighbors, or strangers stopped and looked at her longer than they should.

But lately, Daeho wasn’t the same. He came home with his shoulders slumped, his tie loosened, dark circles under his eyes. He barely smiled at dinner, and sometimes, he even forgot to comment on her outfit — something he usually couldn’t resist doing.

Koo noticed. She was no fool. She watched him sigh at night, turning in bed with a heaviness that wasn’t just physical. She overheard his late-night mutterings while checking emails on his phone, the way he cursed under his breath when yet another message from the office arrived.

One night, while rubbing his back gently, she finally asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”

He sighed deeply. “It’s… my boss. Mr. Kim. He… he’s never satisfied with me. I’ve been working there for years, and every time I expect a promotion, he passes me over. Always another excuse, always some small flaw he points out. I don’t know what else to do, Koo. I work so hard.”

She held him, pretending to comfort. But her mind was already racing.

Kim Taehyung. Of course. She remembered the company events she attended with Daeho. The tall, commanding man with salt-and-pepper hair, perfectly fitted suits, and a smile that was both charming and intimidating. She remembered the way his eyes had flicked toward her, lingering far too long on her breasts, on her legs, on the way she leaned against her husband’s arm. She remembered that look — the look of a man used to getting whatever he wanted.

And she, being who she was, had loved that look.

She had always been a slut at heart, though she never admitted it aloud. She liked being admired, liked knowing men fantasized about her, liked playing with the line between innocent wife and dangerous temptation.

Now, sitting beside her stressed husband, an idea began to take shape.

She thought about Taehyung’s eyes, the way they had burned into her at the company dinner, how she had secretly crossed her legs tighter under the table, wetting her panties just from the attention. She thought about how powerful he was — a CEO, wealthy, influential. And she thought about poor Daeho, working himself to the bone yet ignored, overlooked.

What if she stepped in?

She could talk to Mr. Kim herself. She could go to his office, maybe ask for a private conversation. She could tell him how hardworking Daeho was, how much he deserved that promotion. And maybe… maybe she could use the assets she had always been so proud of.

Koo licked her lips slowly, staring into the mirror as she brushed her hair that night. Her husband slept beside her, exhausted. She tilted her head, letting her robe slip open just a little, exposing the swell of her breast. She imagined Kim Taehyung’s eyes on her in that exact moment.

Her heart beat faster.

Yes. She would go. She would see Mr. Kim. And if her body was the key to her husband’s success, well… she had never minded being used. In fact, she loved it.

The thought made her smile wickedly. Tomorrow, she would choose her sluttiest dress.