The Breaking of Nikki Kim

Finally, he released me. I took a step backwards.

"Afterwards, then," he said. "This is important, Mrs. Kim."

"Uhh, okay," I stammered, looking at Johan a little cockeyed. "What... what room number are you in?"

The words felt strange and uncomfortable as they left my mouth.

"1134," he said.

"1134," I repeated, nodding. "Okay."

Back in our room, as I helped Danny get set up for bed, an uneasy feeling passed over me. Johan had been acting strangely during dinner, paying less attention to Danny than he usually did, and now he wanted to talk with me about him. I felt anxious, wondering if something was going on between the two of them.

After Danny was in bed, I stepped quietly out into the hallway. As I walked down the corridor towards Johan's room, I tried to reassure myself that this wasn't going to be anything to worry about. I needed tomorrow to go smoothly for Danny. He had invested so much of himself into this tournament, and I couldn't bear the thought of him being letdown.

As soon as I knocked on the door, it swung open. Johan was standing in the doorway, tall and blonde and Germanic, wearing a white t-shirt and running shorts. He was holding another beer.

"Hi," he smiled.

"Are you still drinking?" I said, looking askance at him. "Is that a good idea?"

He shrugged, turning around and beckoning me to come in. I followed him into the room, shutting the door softly behind me.

Johan sat down on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. He gestured for me to sit next to him, but I shook my head and remained standing.

"It's late," I said, looking down at my Apple Watch. "What's this about Danny?"

Johan sighed.

"It's not easy," he said.

"What isn't?" I said, my heart falling into my stomach.

"Being friends," he said. "With Danny."

I wanted to disagree, but I bit my tongue because I knew it was true.

"I... I've really tried," Johan said, sipping his beer.

"I know you have," I said, my voice a little hoarse. "And my husband and I, we're so, so grateful to you. You're the best friend that Danny's ever had."

"I try to be the bigger man," Johan continued. "But it's hard."

I stood quietly, waiting for him to go on.

"He's taken a lot from me, you know," he said. "Championships, world records... soon, probably my last one."

"But everybody loves you," I said, trying to control my emotions. "You'll always be a champion, Johan, no matter what Danny does."

"I've given Danny a lot, wouldn't you agree?" he said, looking at me. "But I haven't gotten enough in return."

"I know," I said, folding my hands over my heart. "Believe me, I know what that feels like. To love him so much it hurts, to give him everything you possibly can and... most of the time, he doesn't even know he's supposed to say thank you. I know... I know how hard it can be sometimes."

"You have to keep doing it because you're his mom," Johan said, sipping his beer. "But I can't."

"Johan, please," I said, clasping my hands. "He really needs you as a friend during this tournament. It would crush him."

Johan looked at me. He turned the beer can upright, emptying its contents into his mouth.

"I think I need... some incentive," he said, setting the can down on the bedside table.

"What do you mean?" I asked tentatively.

"What can you give me?" he asked back.

I paused. I was still a little tipsy from the beer and it suddenly felt like the room had gotten much smaller around me.

"What do you want?" I asked nervously.

"What do I want?" he mused to himself, looking out the window. "What do I want?"

He scratched his chin contemplatively, then turned towards me.

"I want to call you Nikki," he said. "Not Mrs. Kim."

"Uhh, okay," I said, feeling a little uneasy. "You can call me Nikki, if you want."

"And I want your phone number," he said.

"No, I don't think so," I said, shaking my head.

"Why not?" he said. "What's wrong with that?"

"Why do you want it?" I asked suspiciously.

"So I can text you," he rolled his eyes.

"I don't think we should be doing that," I said hesitantly, feeling uncomfortable but trying not to upset him. "That's... that's not really appropriate."

"What's inappropriate about it?" he asked, his voice innocent but his eyes narrow.

"It just... feels like a bad idea to me."

"You said I was like Danny's other brother," he pushed, sitting up on the bed. "Does Riley have your number?"

"That's different," I said crossly. "And you know it."

"You're right, it is different, because Danny's not really my brother," Johan said, standing up. "Which means I don't have to keep being nice to him."

"Johan, please," I pleaded. "He really needs you as a friend."

"Nikki, stop making a big deal out of this," he said, sticking his palm out. "Just give me your phone for a second."

I was distraught. If Johan was really going to stop being friends with Danny... this whole tournament could turn from a dream to a nightmare. He had that kind of influence over my son.

Without thinking, I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.

"What are you going to do with it?" I murmured.

"Relax, Nikki," he said, rolling his eyes again. "I'm just going to put my number in and send myself a text."

Before I could say anything, he plucked the phone out of my hand.

"Hey, give that back!" I said. "I didn't say you could do that."

He turned the camera to face me and held it up, using FaceID to unlock it.

"Johan, I said give it back," I reached for it. "I'm not kidding around. That's my private property!"

"Chill," he said, holding it away from me. "I'm just going to put my number in, and..."

Suddenly, he paused. The screen was facing away from me, so I couldn't see what he was looking at, but I saw his smirk widen into that same wolfish grin.

"OHMYGOD," I yelled, instantly remembering the photo I'd sent to Steve earlier that day. "GIVE IT BACK, JOHAN!"

"One second," he said, lifting the phone out of my reach as I lunged for it. "And... there. Done."

He locked the screen and handed it back to me.

"What did you do, Johan?" I said, hurriedly unlocking the phone.

"I sent myself a text," he chuckled. "Just like I told you I would."

"Delete it," I said, as I heard his own phone buzz inside his pocket. "I'm serious, Johan. Delete it right now."

"Delete what?" he asked coyly.

"I'm not playing games with you," I said coldly. "That's not for you. Delete it right now."

"This," he grinned, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "This is incentive."

"That was a private message, which I sent to my husband," I said, getting flustered. "You have no right to look at it. Delete it right now."

"If I do... what will you give me in return?" he asked, standing up slowly and beginning to move towards me. "As an... incentive."

"You--I... I'm... I'm leaving," I said, backing away from him towards the door. "You need to delete that photo, Johan."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But I think I might do something else with it first."

I saw him begin to reach for the waistband of his running shorts.

"Ohmygod," I screamed, putting my hands in front of my face. I turned and threw the door open, slamming it shut behind me as I plunged back out into the hallway and ran off down the corridor.

...

My heart was pounding, so rather than return to my room and risk waking Danny, I got in the elevator and headed back down to the lobby. Then, I called Steve.

"Hey, mate," he said, answering the phone in a cheery Australian accent despite the fact that I'd surely woken him up. "What time is it Down Under?"

"It's pretty late," I muttered, my thoughts racing. "I know it's the middle of the night for you."

"That's okay," he said. "How's Danny doing?"

"He's asleep," I said.

"Good, good," he said. "How are you feeling? About tomorrow?"

"I'm really nervous," I blurted. "There's... there's something wrong with Johan."

"With Johan?" Steve said, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"He's just behaving... really strangely," I said. "He's being kind of rude, and I'm worried that it's going to affect Danny."

"They're just kids, Nikki," he said reassuringly. "They get into arguments, then they forget about them."

"But that's the problem," I protested. "Danny's still a kid, but Johan... isn't."

"Look," he said. "I don't think it's a problem, but even if it is, I'm not worried, because you're our #1 problem solver."

"So what I am supposed to do, Steve?" I said, my voice raising an octave. "Anytime Danny is having problems with a friend, I'm the one who is just supposed to solve them?"

"Don't talk like that," he chastised me softly. "He's only made this much progress because you help him solve the problems that he isn't ready to solve by himself yet. But he's getting there, Nikki."

"I know," I said, shaking my head. "I know he is, but I..."

"Just do your best for him," Steve said. "That's all you can do, and it's all that Danny could ask for."

"Okay," I whispered meekly. "I'll... try."

"By the way," Steve said, his voice dropping seductively. "I like the souvenir you bought earlier."

"Steve, you deleted that photo, right?" I said quickly.

"Are you crazy?" he laughed. "No way!"

"Steve, you have to delete it right now," I insisted. "If Riley gets ahold of your phone, he could see it."

"Babe, he won't," Steve said.

"Just... please delete it, okay?" I said. "I'll feel better knowing it's gone."

"Okay, fine," Steve sighed. "But only if you show me in person when you get back."

...

I barely slept at all that night, tossing and turning silently, trying not to wake up Danny as he slept in the bed beside mine.

The whole thing was so surreal. I just couldn't fathom that Danny's friend would hit on me like that. The mere fact was so shocking to me that I'd been in denial about it practically the entire day, making up excuses for what Johan had said and how he'd been looking at me. But these excuses had led me into a situation where this younger man, this 19-year-old German boy from South Africa, had somehow managed to gain the upper hand.

How had that happened so quickly? How was it even possible? In the middle of the night, it seemed like it had to have been a nightmare.

But the next day I awoke to find that it was all too real. There, waiting on my phone, were two messages.

One was from Steve: "GOOD LUCK TODAY"

The other was from Johan: "Send pussy"

Immediately, I deleted the message and blocked the number, but I was completely rattled, and I knew Danny would be able to sense it.

All things considered, I managed to hold things together, but only just barely. I was a shell of myself, struggling to stay present, anxiety prickling the back of neck as I tried to stay positive and be Danny's support system. But I was barely there, paralyzed by fear and completely distracted by thoughts of what Johan might do next.

The day started off okay, with Danny playing well. But as it wore on, it became increasingly clear that Johan was icing him out. They didn't sit together at lunch, and Johan conspicuously gave Danny the cold shoulder after he won his first few events. The worst thing about it was that Danny had no idea what was going on, and there was no way that I could explain it to him. For most boys Danny's age, this would be a minor matter, but for my son--with everything that Johan meant to him--I knew it was devastating.

I'd avoided Johan all day, but by that evening, I could tell Danny was on the verge of a total meltdown. He had survived the first day in decent position, but the next day of the championships would be critical, as they would determine whether he would defend his world championship titles in the 4x4 and 5x5 events.

Sitting in our hotel room, watching Danny fumble morosely with his cube, I felt that same sense of failure that I'd felt during the early years before his diagnosis. I knew that my son was in pain, but I felt powerless to help him.

Except... I knew I wasn't powerless. And that was the problem.

Hesitantly, I picked up my phone and unblocked the number from that morning.

"Have dinner with us," I wrote. "Danny really needs to know you're still rooting for him."

Instantly, I saw the three bubbles, showing that Johan was typing.

My phone dinged. It was an eye-rolling emoji.

I took a deep breath.

"You can keep the photo," I wrote reluctantly. "Just don't share it with anyone. And be kind to my son for the next two days, okay?"

More bubbles. And then:

"Send pussy"

"No," I wrote back frantically. "I'm married."

Eye-roll emoji.

"Why are you doing this to Danny?" I wrote. "Why are you doing this to me???"

Devil horns emoji.

I felt myself tearing up, but I knew I couldn't let Danny see me cry. I got up, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door behind me.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, trying to steel myself.

"Have dinner with Danny," I wrote. "Be a good friend. Then we can talk."

"What we'll talk about?" he wrote.

"Incentive," I wrote back.

...

Johan met us down in the lobby. Suddenly, he was back to his old self, paying attention to Danny and showering him with congratulations for his victories that day and offering words of encouragement for the next day's events.

We went back to the same pizza place as the night before. Again, Johan ordered beers for each of us and a Coke for Danny.

I was unusually quiet at dinner, barely eating, slowing sipping my beer, watching as the minutes ticked away. But despite the creeping dread I felt as each slice of pizza disappeared from the table, I could see that Johan was breathing life and confidence back into my son, and that brought me a strange measure of relief.

Then, the meal ended, and I knew the bill was going to include more than just dinner.

Johan had been so focused on Danny throughout dinner, but as we rode the elevator up to the 11th floor of the hotel, he gently placed his hand on the small of my back. I felt my heart starting to pound as if his fingers were a set of jumper cables.

"Well, it's time for me and Danny to hit the hay," I said, stepping out of the elevator. "Big day tomorrow."

Johan gave Danny a big high-five.

"Big day indeed, champ," he cried. Then, he turned quietly to me. "So Nikki, about that talk..."

"I need to get Danny settled in," I said.

He paused, mulling this over. Then, he nodded and walked away.

As I helped Danny get ready for bed, my mind raced wildly.

I wasn't sure what to do, but after the way he had put his hands on me in the elevator, I was now certain of one thing: if I went to Johan's room, he would expect us to do more than just talk. And I couldn't allow that to happen.

After Danny was in bed, I lingered in the bathroom, hiding from both my son and his so-called friend. But then my phone buzzed.

"Youre late"

"Danny's being difficult," I wrote back. "Nervous about tomorrow."

A pause. Then, bubbles.

"IDGAF," it read. "Come now"

"I can't right now," I wrote back. "Be nice tomorrow and we'll talk then"

"Incentive or GTFO"

"I can't leave the room," I protested. "He'll freak out"

There was a pause for several seconds. And then:

"Send pussy"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This whole situation was completely overwhelming, and I was utterly spent from an entire day taking care of Danny and trying to keep my own anxiety at bay. I didn't have the stamina to keep arguing with Johan, but I knew that if I cut him off, he had the power to hurt me or my son.

Then, slowly, I unzipped my jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them. Just get through this, I thought to myself. You're only here for two more days.

I was wearing a pair of stretchy, lycra boyshorts beneath a loose-fitting tank-top. Slowly, I rolled the boyshorts down around my milky thighs, exposing the thin triangle of soft, dark hair above my 34-year-old mound.

I held up the camera, framing my waist and thighs, careful not to include any details that could identify me. Then, with my eyes shut tight, I snapped a photo of my pussy.

With nothing to identify me, the pretty, disembodied pink lips on the screen could have belonged to anyone. I almost couldn't believe that they belonged to me as I pressed send.

But no sooner had I sent the photo then the bubbles appeared on the sooner.

"Thats bullshit," it read. "Cant even tell its you"

"It's me," I wrote back quickly. "I swear"

"Prove it," he wrote. "Show tits and pussy"

"no way," I wrote back. "I did what you asked"

"tits and pussy," he wrote back. "Or no more nice guy"

I knew I shouldn't be negotiating like this, that I couldn't keep letting this 19-year-old boy push me around like some kind of submissive plaything. But I was also so tired and anxious, and my nerves were completely frayed. I just needed to satisfy him enough to get through the night.

Slowly, I pulled the tank top over my head. Then, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, letting my big tits spill out from beneath the cups. Turning my head away from the screen to hide my face, I held the camera aloft and clicked the shutter. Then, I forced myself to look at the screen.

Although you couldn't see my face, there was no denying that the big-breasted, half-naked Asian woman on the screen was me. You could tell from the clothes uselessly strewn about my body, from the skin color and the proportions and the haircut. Anyone who knew me well would likely be able to identify me from this photo.

This had to be enough. It just had to be. Reluctantly, I tapped send.

A few seconds later, the response came.

"Damn Nikki you're a fucking MILF"

"Goodnight," I wrote back. Then, I re-blocked the number.

I slumped down against the bathroom door, a wave of guilty disbelief crashing over me. I'd just sent another man a photo of my naked body.

And not just any other man. A 19-year-old white boy who I'd thought was my son's best friend. A 19-year-old white boy who was using my son to manipulate me. I'd sent him a photo of my tits and pussy that even my husband had never seen.

At least I could rectify that one wrong. Quickly, I sent the same photo to Steve, then I deleted it.

Exhausted, I climbed into the shower, then stumbled into bed.

...

The next morning, I had a very appreciative message from Steve waiting on my phone:

"Damn you are so hot," he wrote. "Whatever's gotten into you, make sure you bring some of it back with you to Cali"

Mercifully, there were no messages from Johan, as his number was still blocked.

And for most of the day, things seemed to be almost normal. Danny was cubing well, and in the morning, he defended his title in the 5x5. But that afternoon, as Danny was warming up for the 4x4 championships, I saw Johan staring at me from across the practice room.

"Hey Nikki," he yelled, gesturing at me to come over to him.

I shook my head at him, waving him off. Everyone here knew me as Danny's mom, Mrs. Kim. What was he trying to prove by calling me Nikki in front of my son and all these other people?

A moment later, he walked over to where I was sitting with Danny.

"Hey Danny," he said, pulling out his phone. "You wanna see a funny photo..."

Before Danny could respond, I grabbed Johan by the wrist.

"Can I speak with you for a minute?" I said tensely, trying to keep a sunny note in my voice for the other people listening.

Despite the fact that he was half-a-head taller than me, I pulled Johan out of the practice room by his wrist, dragging him into the hallway.

"What on Earth was that?" I hissed, trying to keep voice down. "What were you going to show him?"

"Hi, Nikki," he smiled with lecherous delight, brazenly looking me up and down.

"What was all that about?!" I murmured beneath my breath.

"Well, I had to get your attention somehow," he smirked. "You've been avoiding me all day, and we need to talk."