The checkout line at Nordstrom’s cosmetics counter stretched four customers deep when Taehyung felt the first pulse of the remote-controlled vibrator nestled inside her.

Not a gentle hum. Not a tease.

A full-throated buzz that made her grip the edge of the marble counter and press her thighs together so hard the seam of her white linen trousers bit into her clit. The sales associate was mid-swipe of a Dior lip oil sample across the back of her hand, saying something about hyaluronic acid and plumping peptides, and all Taehyung could do was nod and breathe through her mouth and hope to God her knees didn’t buckle.

“Ma’am? Would you like to try the shade?”

Taehyung blinked. Her reflection in the counter mirror showed a woman whose pupils had swallowed her irises. “Yes,” she managed. “The—yes. That one.”

The vibrator shifted. Not the pattern—the depth. Someone had cranked the intensity dial. Someone standing approximately fifteen feet away near the men’s fragrance section, pretending to sample Acqua di Gio while his thumb worked the discreet little remote in his jacket pocket.