The Unraveling of Nikki Kim

"Shut up," I gasped, my face turning bright red. "No way."

"I did you a favor, okay?"

"You never even told me!" I said, a tinge of bitterness in my voice.

"Look, Nikki," she sighed again. "I didn't tell you because those were not the kind of guys that you were interested in."

"I guess," I said, disappointed.

"You were already looking for a husband, even then," Nina said, getting defensive. "And those guys... Nikki, let me tell you, guys like that are not husband material."

"Now you're the one who sounds like Mom," I giggled.

"Fuck, you're right," Nina laughed. "How did that happen?"

"So is that why you're not married?" I asked, still giggling. "Because you like white boys, and white boys aren't husband material?"

"No, c'mon," Nina laughed. "Maybe Mom thinks that we should only marry nice Korean boys like Steve..."

"Hey now," I said.

"...but I'm not saying there aren't any white guys who are marriage material."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that they're... like sugar," she continued. "Very addictive, but too much will rot your teeth."

"Wow," I laughed. "Well, but you do have a sweet tooth, unni."

"God, I think I'm gonna call my dentist after this," she chuckled.

"Is he a white guy?" I giggled, unable to resist.

"Bitch, are you slut-shaming me?" she laughed. "But seriously, I gotta run. Talk soon?"

"Bye," I said, hanging up the phone, alone with my thoughts again.

...

My conversation with Nina gave me plenty to laugh about, but not long afterward, something happened that stopped me laughing altogether.

Steve and I were getting ready for bed one evening when he turned towards me.

"Babe, you know who I got a message from today?" he said, rifling through his closet. "Danny's friend, Johan."

"W--what?" I said, my heart nearly stopping at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, he sent me a DM on Instagram," he continued. "I didn't even realize he followed me, but I guess he must have found me through Danny."

"Umm, okay..."

"Anyway, he told me what you two talked about in Sydney," he said, pulling a sleep shirt over his head. "And I think it's a great idea."

"You--what?!" I gasped, trying to control my shock. "What--what idea?!"

"Oh, he said he told you that he was planning a trip to California," Steve continued, climbing into bed. "I guess his summer break is coming up, because in South Africa, they do it in January."

"He's coming... to California?!"

"He's flying into San Francisco, and then I guess he's going to fly down to LA?" Steve said. "Or maybe he'll take the bus? I dunno. He just said he's not old enough to rent a car in the United States yet."

"He's coming to LA?!" My blood had turned to ice.

"Do you not remember any of this?" Steve asked, puzzled. "He said you told him he could stay with us while he's visiting LA."

"W--what?!" I gaped. "No, there's no way I said that."

"Are you sure?" Steve said, picking up a book from his nightstand. "He said he's got a friend to stay with in SF, but when he said he was still looking for a place to stay in LA, you told him that he could crash with us."

"Steve, I... I did not say that," I whispered, trying not to show how panicked I was. "You have to believe me."

"I mean, even if you didn't, is it really that big of a deal?" he said quizzically. "I actually thought you'd be excited about this."

"Why--why would I be excited?" I said nervously.

"Because you're always talking about how Danny needs more social interaction," he said. "What's better for that than having his best friend stay with us for a week?"

"A week?!" I stammered, one heart-stopping revelation coming after another. "That's... that's way too long, Steve."

"Why?" he shrugged. "It's not like we don't have the space. The whole reason I've been fixing up the in-law unit out back is so we'll have a place for people to stay when they visit."

"But isn't it... isn't it going to be too much trouble?" I said, grasping for reasons to object. "We're already so busy with Danny and Riley..."

"Nikki, come on," he frowned. "He's a college kid. He probably just wants to go to the beach and flirt with girls. I bet we won't even notice he's here."

"Why are you so sure about this?" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "I... I really think we should think about this."

"Well, I already told him it was fine by me," Steve said, opening his book to signal that the conversation was coming to an end.

"Steve!" I balked. "How could you make a decision like that without talking to me?!"

"He said that you two had already talked about it," Steve shrugged. "And honestly, it sounds exactly like the kind of thing you would say."

"But I didn't!" I protested.

"Well, then, you can tell him not to come," Steve muttered defensively. "But don't make me the bad guy."

"You're not," I said, the guilt inside me softening my tone. "You're not the bad guy."

"And you better make sure he hasn't already told Danny that he's coming," Steve said. "Because that would really be a bummer for him."

"You're right," I said softly, a pit forming in my stomach. "I'll... I'll think about it, I guess."

...

That night, the terror that gripped me was so strong that even an Ambien couldn't put me down.

I hadn't communicated with Johan at all since I'd come back from Sydney. I'd deleted our text history, blocked his number, and made sure that all my social accounts were set to private. I'd done everything I could to lock myself down, to make myself unreachable and impenetrable.

But even in my wildest dreams, I couldn't have imagined that Johan would use Steve to get to me. The brazenness of it was almost breathtaking.

First, Johan had used his friendship with my son to manipulate me, backing me into a corner and breaking down my defenses.

Then, as he'd manhandled my body and fucked me raw, he had shit-talked my husband incessantly, insisting that Steve was the kind of man who would step aside and allow his Asian wife to be conquered by a white stud with a bigger cock.

And now, after all that, he was manipulating my husband, using Steve to earn himself an invitation into our home.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Surely Steve was right--there was no doubt that Johan had already messaged Danny, telling him that he was coming to stay with us, getting him excited for the trip.

How was I going to deny Danny a visit from his best friend? And on what grounds? I'd tried all kinds of arguments with Steve, but he had reasonable answers for them all. I racked my brain for plausible excuses, but they all felt strange and flimsy, even to me. It seemed like bending over backwards to keep Johan from coming would only attract suspicion and scrutiny to the secret that I was hiding.

But perhaps the most intimidating aspect of all was Steve's insistence that I be the one to tell Johan no.

I'd cut off all contact with him specifically because he seemed to have no respect whatsoever for the boundaries I kept trying to establish. In Sydney, I'd told him no in every way that I knew how, yet I'd still ended up on all fours, reluctantly moaning his name as he opened me up with his enormous cock.

So the prospect of re-initiating contact--of messaging him, after months of silence, to tell him no--felt terrifying to me. Because what if this was just another web he was spinning to ensnare me?

No, the safest course of action seemed to be continued silence. If I engaged him, I might say something that he could use against me. But if I said nothing, then he'd have nothing to use.

The next morning, after an all-but-sleepless night, I stood by the calendar in our kitchen. Slowly, I uncapped a pen and drew a line through the second week of January. Above the line, in dainty letters, I wrote:

"Johan comes"

Then I recapped the pen, took a deep breath, and turned around to begin making breakfast.

...

In the days leading up to Johan's arrival, I tried to calm my nerves by defining a set of rules for myself. I repeated these rules inside my mind over and over, committing them to memory, trying to make them second-nature by the time he arrived.

Rule #1: Limit communication to only what is strictly necessary.

I knew I would be unable to completely avoid talking to Johan while he was staying in my house, but I didn't have to make conversation with him, and I certainly didn't have to text with him. These things had gotten me into trouble in Sydney, and I was determined not to make the same mistakes again.

Rule #2: Minimize positive reinforcement as much as possible.

As with communication, I knew I couldn't give Johan the cold shoulder completely while he was staying with us, as that would get noticed by both Steve and Danny. I had to be polite and courteous to him, as I would towards any guest, but that was it. Unlike in Sydney, I wouldn't do anything to make him feel special, or give any suggestion that I welcomed his attention.

Rule #3: Do NOT let yourself be alone with him.

This was obviously the most important rule, the one that overshadowed the others. Limiting communication and minimizing positive reinforcement were all well and good, but I'd seen Johan's flagrant disregard for these kinds of boundaries, and I knew what he was capable of doing if he got me alone.

Regarding this last rule, I tried to strategize, thinking about what I could do to reduce the chances of being alone with Johan.

Mornings at our house were always busy and crowded with people, as Steve would be getting ready for work and I would be getting Danny and Riley ready for school. Evenings were similarly busy once everyone came home, and at night, we generally did things as a family, since neither of the boys were mature enough yet to be going out on their own.

So the most vulnerable time would be during the day, when Steve was at work and the boys were at school. Usually, this was a tranquil time that I cherished, my opportunity to steal some moments for myself: going for a run, doing yoga, reading a book. But while Johan was staying with us, I would have to be vigilant during this time of day, because I feared that he might see an empty house as an opportunity.

My plan was to make myself busy running errands during the day. This seemed easy enough, as there are always things to take care of for a family of four, and many of these tasks were an easy excuse to leave the house and stay out for several hours.

My hope was that even if Johan had designs on me, I couldn't be the only reason he'd come all the way to LA. I was sure he would want to go out and sightsee, take in the tourist attractions, interact with some people his own age. I couldn't imagine that he would come all this way just to hang around some quiet suburban house all day, waiting for a 34-year-old Korean wife to get back from the supermarket.

If I could avoid Johan during the daytime, then the only other thing I had to do was keep inside the house, steering clear of the in-law unit out back where he would be staying.

If you aren't familiar with an in-law unit, it's a California term for what is known elsewhere as an ADU, which stands for "accessory dwelling unit." Basically, it's a smaller secondary dwelling on a residential property, almost like a tiny house with its own plumbing and electricity. If you've ever tried to Airbnb a place on the cheap in LA or the Bay Area, you've probably seen an in-law unit, because many Californians who own larger properties will build them and rent them out as a supplementary source of income.

Our in-law unit was in our backyard, a short walk from the main house. It had been on the property when we bought it, but it was in bad shape, so Steve was in the process of fixing it up. We hadn't decided whether we would ever try to list it on Airbnb--it was still too shabby and barebones to bring in good money--but since we didn't have any extra bedrooms in the main house, we figured that it would at least come in handy when people came to stay with us.

I just never imagined that we would open it up to a teenage stud who had already coerced me into having sex with him. I couldn't fathom that my husband's pet project would someday come to house a 19-year-old white boy whose aggressive behavior and impressive cock had become an existential threat to our marriage.

Steve had deliberately fixed up the in-law in such a way that it afforded a large degree of privacy from the main house, which was necessary if we ever wanted to Airbnb it. The in-law unit had its own entrance, and there was a privacy fence separating it from the main house, making it impossible to see what was going on inside. The walls weren't particular thick, but Steve had padded the wall closest to the main house with foam to improve the soundproofing, hanging floor-length curtains from the ceiling to cover up the foam and create additional damping.

When I'd asked him why so much soundproofing was necessary, he'd laughed.

"What if some young couple comes to stay with us?" he chuckled. "Do you want to hear what they get up to in here?"

"Isn't this kind of excessive?" I replied, looking at all the foam he'd bought.

"Oh, so you want to hear them having sex?" he grinned. "I didn't know my wife was such a perv."

"Ohmygod, fine," I laughed, shaking my head. "Hang the damn foam, then. Let these nonexistent newlyweds fuck as loud as they want for all I care."

Nobody in the main house would be able to see or hear what went on inside the in-law unit, so I knew I needed to avoid it as long as Johan was at home.

The day before he was scheduled to arrive, I went over the list of rules in my head one last time.

No unnecessary communication. No extra encouragement. No being alone with him. No visits to the in-law unit.

These were simple rules. They were easy to remember, easy to follow. These were all things that I could control. And if I did them, then that should be enough to keep me safe. That should be enough to keep Johan at bay.

I'm prepared this time, I thought, willing myself to feel confident in my plan. I won't be caught off-guard.

I won't let it happen again.

...

Johan arrived in Los Angeles early on a Sunday morning. Steve and Danny drove down to pick him up while I stayed home with Riley. I was a nervous wreck, but I was determined not to show it.

When Steve and Danny got home, Riley ran outside to greet them, excited to have an older boy coming to stay with us for the week. I followed him outside, walking a few steps behind, intent on projecting an air of benign courtesy but nothing more.

As Johan climbed out of the car, I kept my expression impassive, but I felt my heartbeat jump.

He was here, in the flesh, this younger man who had debased and despoiled me, the source of my guilt and shame. This teenage boy who haunted my thoughts and kept me awake through long, sleepless nights.

I hadn't seen Johan since Sydney, but just in the last few months, his appearance seemed to have changed. He had continued to fill out his tall, lean frame, adding bulk to his shoulders and torso. His blonde hair was still close-cropped, but his angular face was paved with stubble, giving him a scruffy ruggedness that suited him better than I cared to admit.

Pulling his backpack out of the trunk of our car, he cut a rather rakish figure, looking fully the part of a young bohemian, traveling the world in search of excitement and adventure.

"Hi Riley," he said, giving my younger son a hug. "Damn, you've gotten big, bud!"

"So have you!" Riley said. "How tall are you now?"

"About 190 centimeters," he grinned.

"Mom, how many inches is that?" Riley said, turning to me.

"I don't know, honey," I said, expressionless.

"Dad, how many centimeters are you?" Riley said, turning to Steve.

"Not that many," Steve laughed, pulling out his phone. "Hey Siri--what's 190 centimeters in feet and inches?"

"190 centimeters is about 6 feet, 3 inches," Siri responded.

"Whoa," Riley said, his mouth hanging open. "Man, I hope I can be that tall when I grow up!"

"With your parents?" Steve chuckled, rubbing Riley's head. "Keep dreaming, Riles."

Then, Johan walked up to greet me, his 190 centimeters towering above me.

"Hi Nikki," he said, grinning.

I felt a shiver go down my spine. The way he said my name--the way he pronounced it, each syllable dipped in the honey of his German-South African accent--felt somehow too intimate, too freighted with meaning.

"Hello Johan," I said, smiling politely. "Welcome to our home."

He opened his arms expectantly, waiting for a hug. It would be awkward to refuse him in front of everyone, so I opened my arms to receive him. He leaned forward, wrapping me up, pulling me against his chest.

"It's good to see you, Nikki," he whispered, squeezing me gently. "I missed you."

"Mmm," I said, noncommittal, my arms hovering around his back.

I began to pull my arms back, disengaging from the hug, but Johan held me there for an extra second. As he did, he leaned down, putting his nose lightly against my soft, silky hair. Then, he inhaled deeply, taking a long, slow breath in through his nose.

I felt a prickle of panic. Johan had been here for less than a minute, and already he was smelling my hair, taking in the scent of my body in full view of both my husband and my children.

I pulled away from him, glancing out of the corner of my eye at Steve, trying to see whether he'd notice what Johan had done. But Steve had already started walking down towards the in-law unit.

"God, I love the way California smells," Johan grinned.

"C'mon," Steve called. "Let me show you where you'll be staying."

...

That day, we'd planned to welcome Johan by taking him along on a family trip to the beach. We piled everyone into our minivan, with Steve driving and Johan sitting next to him while I climbed into the back with Danny and Riley.

We drove to Santa Monica beach, which we would usually avoid due to crowds, but Steve thought that it was the best beach to bring a first-time visitor to LA. Fortunately, it was January, so the beach was lively but not completely packed.

I'd chosen what I was going to wear very carefully. In Sydney, I'd been wearing a tiny bikini that really wasn't big enough for my 34D breasts, and I'd wondered after the fact if that hadn't played some role in stirring Johan's aggressiveness towards me. So for this trip to the beach, I'd chosen a modest black one-piece suit, worn beneath an oversized beach shirt to keep me warm and protect me from the sun.

When we arrived, Steve and I set up an umbrella and some beach chairs while Johan and Riley played in the surf. Danny doesn't really like the water, so he crouched nearby, examining seashells that had washed up on the shore.

Once our spot was set up, Steve took off his shirt and began applying some sunscreen.

"I'm gonna hop in the water with the boys," he said. "Aren't you going to join us?"

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," I said, patting my sunglasses, my wide-brimmed hat, and the magazine I'd brought with me. "You go have fun."

The truth was that although I was wearing a bathing suit, I had no plans of entering the water. Back in Sydney, in Johan's hotel room, he had described in graphic detail his memories of seeing me emerge from a Las Vegas hotel pool when we'd all been together for a Rubik's Cube tournament six years earlier.

"I remember you going into the water with Danny," he'd recalled. "And when you came out, I could see your nipples poking straight through. Your tits were so fucking big, like in porn."

Knowing how cold the water would be in January, I had no intention giving Johan another show like that one. That would be a violation of Rule #2: No extra encouragement.

So I sat on the beach and read my magazine, keeping an eye on my boys, trying not to admire the way the water ran down Johan's broad, rippling torso.