Fifty shades of Kim

Chapter two

Behind the leather chairs, is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it.

Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seoul skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It's a stunning vista, I sit down, fish the questions from my backpack, and go through them, inwardly cursing Jimin for not providing me with a brief biography.

I know nothing about this man I'm about to interview. I've never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room.

To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in colossal glass-and-stone a edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Jin. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern. I guess Kim is in his forties: fit. tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes?

Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

"Mr. Kim?" the latest blonde asks.

"Yes," I croak and clear my throat.

"Yes." There, that sounded more confident.

"Mr. Kim will see you in a moment. Everyone here will address you as Mr. Seokjin, coz you know our boss is also Kim so"

"Yeah it's perfectly fine" I offered her a smile that she gladly returned.

"May I take your jacket?"

"Oh, please. "I struggle out of the jacket.

"Have you been offered any refreshment?"

"Um no." Oh dear, is Blonde Number One - in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

"Would you like tea, coffee, water?" she asks, turning her attention back to me.

"A glass of water. Thank you," I murmur.

"Sunmi, please fetch Mr. Seokjin a glass of water" Her voice is stern. Sunmi scoots up and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

"My apologies, Mr. Seokjin, Sunmi is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Kim will be another five minutes.

Sunmi returns with a glass of iced water.

"Here you go. Mr. Seokjin."

"Thank you."

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.

I guess Mr. Kim insists on all of the employees being blonde.

When the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, man with short dreads exits. I have worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. "Golf this week. Kim?"

I don't hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, I was too confused to return. Sunmi jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She's more nervous than me!

"Good afternoon," he says as he departs through the sliding door.

"Mr. Kim will see you now. Mr Seok-jin. Do go through." Blonde Number Two says. stand rather shakily, trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my backpack, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

"You don't need to knock - just go in." She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet and falling headfirst into the office.

Double crap - me and my two feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Kim's office.

A gentle hands came in my view, to help me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow - young. he's so young.

"Mr park." He extends a long-fingered, veiny hand to me once I'm upright. "I'm Kim Taehyung. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?"

So young - and attractive, very attractive. He's tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper-colored hair and intense, dark brown eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

"Um. Actually- " I mutter. If this guy is over thirty, then I'm a monkey's uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me.

I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. It must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

"Park Jimin is indisposed, so he sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Kim."

"And you are?" His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He is interested but, above all, polite. looks mildly interested but, above all, polite.

"Kim seokjin. I'm studying English literature with Chim, um ... Jimin um... Mr park,"

"I see," he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I'm not sure.

"Would you like to sit?" He waves me toward an L-shaped white leather couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a modern dark wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch.

Everything else is a white ceiling, floors, and walls, except for the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square.

They are exquisite a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

"A local artist. Trouton," says Taehyung when he catches my gaze.

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary." I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

"I couldn't agree more. Mr. Seokjin." he replies, his voice deep yet soft. and for some inexplicable reason, I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical.

I took out Jimin's questions from my backpack. Next, I set up the digital recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Kim says nothing, waiting patiently - I hope - as he becomes increasingly embarrassed and flustered.

When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile.

"S-sorry, "I stutter. "I'm not used to this." "Take all the time you need. Mr. Seokjin," he says.

"Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder, you ask me now?"

[EDITED]