Fifty Shades Of Park Jimin

THE HELICOPTER RIDE

Park Jimin was waiting for me when I leave. He climbs out of the back of the Audi to open the door and smiles warmly at me.

"Good evening, Miss Roseanne," he says.

"Mr. Park." I nod politely to him as I climb into the backseat of the car. Suga is sitting in the driver's seat.

"Hello, Suga," I say.

"Good evening, Miss Roseanne," his voice is polite and professional. Park Jimin climbs in the other side and clasps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that I feel all the way though my body.

"How was work?" he asks.

"Very long," I reply, and my voice is husky, too low, and full of need.
______

The drive to the heliport is short and, before I know it, we arrive. I wonder where the fabled helicopter might be. We're in a built-up area of the city and even I know helicopters need space to take off and land. Suga parks, climbs out, and opens my car door. Park Jimin is beside me in an instant and takes my hand again.

"Ready?" he asks. I nod and want to say for anything, but I can't articulate the words as I'm too nervous, too excited.

"Suga." He nods curtly at his driver, and we head into the building, straight to a set of elevators. Elevator! The memory of our kiss this morning comes back to haunt me.

Park Jimin glances down at me, a slight smile on his lips. He's thinking about it too.

"It's only three floors," he says dryly, his gray eyes dancing with amusement. He's telepathic surely. It's spooky.

I try to keep my face impassive as we enter the elevator. The doors close, and it's there, the weird electrical attraction crackling between us, enslaving me. I close my eyes in a vain attempt to ignore it. He tightens his grip on my hand, and five seconds later the doors open on to the roof of the building. And there it is, a white helicopter with the name Park Enterprises Holdings Inc. written in blue with the company logo on the side. Surely this is misuse of Company property.

He leads me to a small office where an old timer sits behind the desk.

"Here's your flight plan, Mr. Park. All external checks are done. It's ready and waiting sir. You're free to go."

"Thank you." Park Jimin smiles warmly at him.

Someone deserving of the polite treatment from him, perhaps he's not an employee. I stare at the old guy in awe.

"Let's go," Park Jimin says, and we make our way toward the helicopter. When we're up close, it's much bigger than I thought. I expected it to be a roadster version for two, but it has at least seven seats. Park Jimin opens the door and directs me to one of the seats at the very front.

"Sit - don't touch anything," he orders as he clambers in behind me.

He shuts the door with a slam. I'm glad that the area is floodlit, otherwise I'd find it difficult to see inside the small cockpit. I sit down in my allotted seat, and he crouches beside me to strap me into the harness. It's a four-point harness with all the straps connecting to one central buckle. He tightens both of the upper straps, so I can hardly move.

He's so close and intent on what he's doing. If I could only lean forward, my nose would be in his hair. He smells, clean, fresh, heavenly, but I'm fastened securely into my seat and effectively immobile. He glances up and smiles, like he's enjoying his usual private joke, his gray eyes heated. He's so tantalizingly close. I hold my breath as he pulls at one of the upper straps.

"You're secure, no escaping," he whispers, his eyes are scorching. "Breathe, Roseanne," he adds softly. Reaching up, he caresses my cheek, running his long fingers down to my chin which he grasps between his thumb and forefinger. He leans forward and plants a brief, chaste kiss on my lips, leaving me reeling, my insides clenching at the thrilling, unexpected touch of his lips.

"I like this harness," he whispers.

What?

Park Jimin sits down beside me and buckles himself into his seat, then begins a protracted procedure of checking gauges and flipping switches and buttons from the mind-boggling array of dials and lights and switches in front of me. Little lights wink and flash from various dials, and the whole of the instrument panel lights up.

"Put your cans on," he says, pointing to a set of headphones in front of me. I pop them on, and the rotor blades start. They are deafening. He puts his headphones on and continues flipping various switches.

"I'm just going through all the pre-flight checks." His disembodied voice is in my ears through the headphones. I turn and grin at him.

"Do you know what you are doing?" I ask. He turns and smiles at me.

"I've been a fully qualified pilot for four years, Roseanne, you're safe with me." He gives me a wolfish grin. "Well, while we're flying," he adds and winks at me.

"Are you ready?"

I nod wide eyed.

The helicopter rises slowly and smoothly into the air.

Whoa! All the bright lights shrink until they are twinkling sweetly below us. It's like looking out from inside a fish bowl. Once we're higher, there really is nothing to see. It's pitch black, not even the moon to shed any light on our journey. How can he see where we're going?

I am so out of my league here. His face is softly illuminated by the lights on the instrument panel. He's concentrating hard, and he's continually glancing at the various dials in front of him. I drink in his features from beneath my lashes. He has a beautiful profile. Straight nose, square jawed - I'd like to run my tongue along his jaw.

I have a serious case of butterflies. They are flourishing in my stomach. What has he got in store for me?

"You okay, Roseanne?"

"Yes." My answer is short, clipped, squeezed out through my nerves.

I think he smiles, but it's difficult to tell in the darkness.

"Do you always impress women this way? Come and fly in my helicopter?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"I've never bought a girl up here, Roseanne. It's another first for me." His voice is quiet, serious.

Oh, that was an unexpected answer. Another first? Oh the sleeping thing, perhaps?

"Are you impressed?"

"I'm awed, Mr. Park."

He smiles.

"Awed?" And for a brief moment, he's his age again.

I nod.

"You're just so... competent."

"Why, thank you, Miss Roseanne," he says politely. I think he's pleased, but I'm not sure.

We ride into the dark night in silence for a while. The bright spot that is Seoul is slowly getting bigger.

The helicopter slows and hovers, and Park Jimin sets it down on the helipad on top of the building. My heart is in my mouth. I can't decide if it's from nervous anticipation, relief that we've arrived alive, or fear that I will fail in some way. He switches the ignition off and the rotor blades slow and quiet until all I hear is the sound of my own erratic breathing.

Park Jimin takes his headphones off, and reaches across and pulls mine off too.

"We're here," he says softly.

His look is so intense, half in shadow and half in the bright white light from the landing lights. Dark knight and white knight, it's a fitting metaphor for Park Jimin. He looks strained. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are tight. He unfastens his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle mine. His face is inches from mine.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You know that don't you?" His tone is so earnest, desperate even, his gray eyes impassioned. He takes me by surprise.

"I'd never do anything I didn't want to do, Park Jimin." And as I say the words, I don't quite feel their conviction because at this moment in time - I'd probably do anything for this man seated beside me.