Taehyung arrived mid-morning to The Devil's Garden the next day. The establishment wasn't open to the public yet – it usually wasn't until near noon – but a lot of the staff were there already, hustling around the property tending to crops, the distillery and preparing the guest services. He was guided down a long corridor by the hostess until she eventually released him in front of your office. You weren't there yet. You were somewhere else on the property and would be there "momentarily" or so he was told. At first, Taehyung sat patiently in the winged chair across from your desk – smoothing out his tie and straitening the lapels and pleats of his freshly pressed suit.
But patience was never Taehyung's strong suit and soon his eyes began to wander towards the nooks and crannies of the room. The space smelled clean – clean in the way a woman would keep it. Like fresh laundry, or a citrus cleaner, perhaps a vanilla incense was placed somewhere in the room. He gazed over the bookshelves to his right, looking for the source and spotting the jar of oil and reeds. He stood up before he realized that he had, then strolled across the room.
"Yup," he said out loud as the scent intensified, confirming the diffuser was the source. His gaze then wandered beyond it, to the books and the knickknacks strewn over the shelves. Organized chaos is what he would call your system. Clean and tidy, but without direction. Files related to business were stored between novels, which were propped against trinkets and photo frames. This office, this shelf, each piece was telling a story - although he didn't quite know yet how to read it.
The first thing that really caught his attention was a short, silver, decorative dagger, propped up on a simple plexiglass stand. It was the kind you'd find in a games shop. The kind people, of a certain taste, would splay throughout their homes and hang from walls. It seemed massively out of place compared to the contemporary, bright décor of the room. Perhaps it was a gift, or an artifact from a phase you went through in your younger years. He then noticed a box, wood carved and antique looking. He couldn't stop his internal private eye from flicking the latch to peer inside.
Cigarettes. Taehyung smiled. So, you weren't as squeaky clean and polished as you first appeared. You too had a dirty little habit the way he did. Except, unlike him, you hid yours. Probably only had one every once in a while, when the world became just a little too stressful.
He closed the lid, then moved a little further down the shelves, ghosting his fingers over the books until he reached one that intrigued him. It was a romance novel – he could tell from the spine. He recognized it as the drugstore type that his mother liked to read. He reached for it, taking it from its place on the shelf and flipping it over in his hand to read the summary.
This one was about a woman at the turn of the century. Young, pretty, wealthy and from "good breeding." But all she had ever wanted was to rough it with the lads at the tavern: drink beer; gamble over poker; wear pants. A woman who would soon meet a strapping but primitive type man, who would offer her what she wanted at a cost of one wild night together.
Taehyung's sniffed in amusement as he read the ridiculous description, but it had his curiosity regardless. He wondered... was this simple fantasy, or did this type of scenario titillate you? Was this something you dreamt about late at night - something you secretly wanted? One night of passion with a man who would debase you... use you... ruin you... before you returned to your pretty little life and the boring fucker you meant to live it out with?
He knew these thoughts were biased and self serving, but, oh god, did he enjoy the idea that they could be true; the idea that he could be your Sir What's-His-Face, owed one night of making you come over and over again.
Maybe it would happen here, at the winery, under the cover of darkness so that sucker of a husband of yours would never find out. After hours, so that no one would be around to hear the sounds he'd make you make...
