With a Pinch of Salt ✓

III

Bamboo stick up your ass

•

JIMIN opened the newspaper yet again and looked up at the building that he hoped to move into.

It was enormous, almost a skyscraper and he scarcely could believe his luck at having scored a steal of a price. He did wonder who his landlord or landlady was, as tucked a bit of his fake hair behind his ears. Would it be a salacious old man like Jungkook predicted, or would it be an angelic grandmother who needed a young girl to chatter away to?

Only time would tell.

And time really needed to make a move, because Jimin was one impatient bitch.

*

Apprehensive, Jimin waited for the landlord, or lady, to open the door after he rang the pristine door bell. It looked so polished that Jimin could see his reflection in it. And no, it wasn't made of metal but of humble plastic.

Whoever lived behind that door was definitely someone who liked his house clean and that was a great pity, since Jimin wasn't exactly the ambassador of WHO. Oh well, at least he wasn't Namjoon.

Oh well, it was still early days to make assumptions, especially when the mystery person hadn't made an appearance yet.

Just then, the door swung open and Jimin could swear he almost dropped his panties down for a second. He couldn't thank Hoseok enough for dolling him up to look like a pretty maid (even if it diminished his proud masculinity by a bit).

Before him stood a man that defied that all men are equal before the Almighty. Even if he was going to hell for being gay, Jimin couldn't thank his stars enough for making him live to see this day.

His landlord (a win for the gays) was a masterpiece molded in flesh by the most delicate hands in the world. The little mole adorning the tip of his nose was the cherry on top and Jimin most definitely wouldn't mind liking cream off his beautiful, long arms.

Oh, dear. He was already immersed in unholy thoughts.

"Yes?" The exquisitely crafted man asked, looking exactly like an exquisitely crafted Godiva chocolate and oh Jungkook's thighs, Jimin wouldn't mind letting him melt in his mouth.

Oh for the love of rainbows and the holy unicorn, snap out of it.

"I, uh, came here because of the ad in the newspaper? I am Park Jimin, we spoke on the phone?"

Jimin couldn't fathom how much he hated his disguise squeaky voice. The last thing any gay man needed, was to be treated as a woman (except perhaps on Twitter). And this felt like suicide to the teashop owner, as he shivered uncomfortably in his heels, dress (which reached his ankles) and wig.

"Oh yeah, I remember. Come on in," said the Greek God and oh mother's womb, how deep was his voice. Jimin wouldn't mind throating him as deep-

Now there was a line to even gay-dreaming. And you, you dirty, insolent mind, you've crossed that too.

"I said, come in," repeated his (hopefully) landlord.

Oh, he's a top alright. So far, so good.
Okay that's it, shut up pervert brain, Jimin thought.

"Is something wrong? Are you feeling well?"

"I'm feeling top-notch, I assure you! Show me around, your highness!"

And in that minute, Jimin wished he could kick his own bubbly butt.

And so did his landlord, but in his case it was the whole body and not just the ass.