Power Play | PJM 🔞

6| Takeoff

The NDA is unilateral, which means I can't talk about my encounter with Jimin to anyone, but he can talk to anyone about me. The terms themselves are pretty simple; if I tell someone that I met him in the next 60 years, he can sue me for 5 million dollars. The lawyer explained all of this to me inside the restaurant and I signed, knowing very well there was no way I would tell anyone about this.

Jimin wouldn't let me see his face until I signed the paperwork, and I'm now on my way out of the restaurant and to his car, where I will finally see what he looks like. He possesses one of those outrageously shiny white sports cars with tinted windows so no one can see inside, and I quickly cross the street to get to him.

The night is clear with a few clouds and the stars reflect in the puddles on the asphalt as I make my way to the other side of the road. A wave of crippling nervousness overwhelms me when I realize two things; I'm going to see Jimin for the first time.... but he is going to see me for the first time too, and I'm going to be perfectly alone with him.

I open the door and get in, feeling goosebumps line up my arms as I meet a pair of dark eyes, so deep they seem completely black. A flurry of butterflies implodes in my stomach as I take-in the rest of his god-like face, from his thick doll lips to his narrow, expressive eyes. He's very angular, with a sharp jawline and straight nose, the glow of his skin in the semi-darkness making me gape like a deer caught in headlights.

He's gorgeous. I don't even have the words to describe how beautiful he is.

I suddenly realize two things; firstly, I've seen him before on TV, but I can't remember where. I know he's famous for something, but he isn't an actor, or a pop star like I initially thought. Secondly, I would never have done the things I did to him if I had seen what he looked like. His visual is so perfect it intimidates me to the point I can't even look at him without blushing. Now, I'm embarrassed to think I kissed those lips and rode his thighs with such inhibited enthusiasm.

"Woah," I gasp, eyeing him up and down, "You're pretty."

Please shut up. You're making a fool of yourself.

"Thank you," he says with the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen, which reveals his perfect white teeth and makes his eyes narrow into crescents, "You look very good as well. I like the dress."

"Thank you," I let out, fisting the light material of my skirt.

Jimin is wearing a black t-shirt, ripped black skinny jeans with a belt and leather boots. Silver earrings dangle from his ears and I can see he has some more tattoos on the inside of his wrists. His hair is black and silky, parted in the middle and long enough to fall over his cheekbones. He starts the car, turning the key in the ignition and grabs the steering wheel with one veiny hand while the other rests on his thigh.

I'm suddenly proud of myself when I realize he changed his pants, as the previous pair didn't feel like jeans when I touched them inside the restaurants.

He turns on the music and some low beat with lots of bass takes over the cockpit, making the speakers vibrate. It's my first time in such an expensive car and I'm afraid to touch anything, stiffly sitting in my leather seat while Jimin is casually spread in his.

"So... you like doughnuts?" he asks.

"Huh? Doughnuts?"

He turns to me with a smirk.

"You know... the dessert?"

"Yes, yes! Of course I like doughnuts!"

"Good."

He drives fast and confident, laid-back as he skirts around the traffic to get to the highway.

"You're nervous," he suddenly says, matter-of-factly, "Don't be."

Of course I am. Ballerina or not, beside him, I look like a potato. He's way out of my league.

"Easier said than done..." I simply state with a giggle.

He shakes his head, eyes focused on the road before us.

"This is supposed to be fun for the both of us. You won't like it if you're anxious the whole time..."

"Don't worry, I thrive in stressful situations."

After all, being a dancer is all about being under the spotlight.

Jimin checks me out sideways, eyebrows furrowed.

"I know people like you."

"What?"

"I was a dancer, remember, I know how hard things can get, and how sucky it feels to have to be in tune with your body 24/7. You're a perfectionist, which means you know by heart every inch of your body: what you're capable of and what you know you can achieve in the future. You're the kind of girl who counts her calories and stays behind in the studio stretching for another thirty minutes afterwards just to get better extensions."

"Every dancer is a perfectionist where I'm from," I tell him.

"I also know where that leaves you; always unsatisfied, always so restrained and burdened, confined inside your own self and depriving your mind of the simple pleasures of life. You don't oversleep or skip training, you don't party, sleep around, get drunk or eat meat... am I wrong?"

Of course he's right. He can read me like an open book.

"I don't eat meat because it's better for the planet."

He looks at me, smiling and rolling his eyes.

"Of course."

The highway is one long path of black asphalt before us. He picks up the pace, and the acceleration pushes me in my seat. He's going too fast and my heart descends in my stomach. However, I don't say a word.

"And... what's your solution to my supposed state of suppression?" I ask.

He looks back at me with a shark-like smile as he picks up the pace once more.

"Me."

I stifle a laugh.

"You? Why you, specifically?"

His smile only widens as he stares down the road before us, eyes narrowed and focused. I gaze at his profile, incapable of tearing my eyes away from the artwork that is his face.

"Surrender to me," he says, "And you will be free. I'm talking here trusting me entirely, no inhibition, no holding back, you react how you want to, when you want to without thinking of the consequences or without being self-conscious for one second. After all, we're going to spend one night together, then you will never see me again. Might as well be yourself for once and take advantage of the situation."

The knot of excitement forming in my stomach is on the verge of bursting. This is it. He's right! This is what I needed.

"Listen to your body," he continues, "And not your mind, stop conditioning yourself and controlling every thought and movement. You will feel liberated, I can promise that! I will help you, make you feel desired and protected, but also pull you out of your comfort zone."

I nod. Once again enthusiastic.

"Yes! Yes, I want that, let's do it!"

He slows down, puts the blinkers on to take the next exit.

He turns to me and his eyes are wide and shiny as he stares into my soul, holding all the secrets of the universe. I see dark desires and bravery, mental strength but also a deep craving for my consent and I realize he needs this just as much as I do.

"Alright, do you trust me?"

"Sure..."

He turns to me, devious.

"Then take off your panties."