Date 7: Paris Adventures Day 1

“Damn it, Dr. Kwon!” Dara let out an exasperated grunt as she swatted Jiyong's mauling hands away from her s.



“I know that your ual appetite has been quite insatiable since our discovery of strawberries and honey, but I refuse to be in Paris, being bedded by you in a hotel room when the city itself beckons us to come out and play!”



She squealed in delight as she jumped away just as he lunged towards her in an attempt to tackle her onto the king size bed.



“I mean it, Jiyong! I want to show you the city. These treasures you've already seen,” she gestured at her body in general. “Let me show you the treasures out there!”



Jiyong sighed in frustration. Even after their extended and torrid lovemaking session on the private jet, or perhaps because of said session, he was having an extremely difficult time getting his fill of her. He didn't know where the drive was coming from. It was as if a flood gate of teen ual drive had been let loose within him on the flight to Paris. If a pharmaceutical company could tap into the hormone that was driving him right now, he was sure that would be quickly replaced on the market.



“I'm sorry, D. I'll try my very best to behave. But you have to at least allow the occasional flagrant display of public affection.”



“As long as it remains within the confines of romance and not lust, I invite you to do your worst, Dr. Kwon.”



“Is that a challenge, Miss Park?”



“It is, good sir,” her eyes betrayed a fleeting flicker of desire. “For the both of us. You're not the only one that seems to be a addict these days.”



“One last round before we make it official? We are, after all in the city of love. And how can you not make love in the city of love?”



“Ji, you're incorrigible,” she pouted. “Had we not just had the extended tryst on the jet, I may have conceded your point, but I think we're fully stocked on the quota for this trip.”



“Okay, D. You win. My best Boy Scout behavior while in Paris. What's on the agenda for today?” he asked, ruffling his hair to rid his mind of his ersion.



“Well, we do the touristy stuff tomorrow, Jagi. It's already almost 4pm, Paris time. Thank God for that post- siesta we took on the jet. We dine at this little place my friend told me about. Then later tonight, we hit a club.”



“Dinner sounds great,” he started but was quickly interrupted by Dara's passion for food.



“I love dinner in Paris. At some places, dinner can last for hours!” she spoke with a childlike excitement that brought out a chuckle from Jiyong.



“Looks like a match made in heaven,” he teased as they headed out the door, hand in hand.



They took a leisurely stroll along the Seine River, just outside their hotel, fingers intertwined in a lovers' knot. She leaned against him, drawing his hand closer to her bosom, and he felt his chest puff with pride as the men passing by gazed longingly at her. They walked this way until they reached a tiny restaurant housed right above a cellar where the most exquisite jazz music Jiyong had ever heard floated up to greet them. He looked down at Dara, eyes confirming the answer he already suspected.



“Oh. Did I forget to tell you that our restaurant is right above one of the most famous jazz clubs in Paris?” she looked up innocently at him.



“How did...I didn't...you like jazz?”



“It's grown on me. I listened to a lot of it when I was kinda stuck somewhere for three months.”



And again, Jiyong stood dumbfounded, amazed by how Dara was able to remember so many details from her coma. He squeezed her hand as she led them to their table just outside the club door.



“One of the first things I remember during my coma was the day you came to bring me a jazz CD. Do you remember?”



Jiyong remembered. He washed her arms and legs for the first time that day, telling her about his day, his frustrations, the pressures he felt. It had been such a therapeutic day for him; confiding in her, tending to her body with the warm melodies of a saxophone as the musical backdrop. That warmth, echoed through time and the current jazz music playing around him, brought a smile to his lips.



“I didn't think you could hear me. I must have sounded so needy...” he trailed off, unsure of how to explain himself.



“Jagi,” she squeezed his hand gently, leaning towards him across the table. “I felt so intimate with you that day. What I remember is a peaceful feeling....and a thankful feeling....for your trust. Isn't that weird?”



His heart tightened at that familiar feeling that overcame him when Dara took his breath away.



“What else do you remember?”



“I remember you bringing me lilies. And they are my favorite flower, by the way. I can't believe you were so good at reading my body even back then,” she teased.



His cheeks flushed as he tried desperately to remember if he had inadvertently confessed any embarrassing secrets or bad habits to her.



They sat at the table for hours, comparing the moments that she remembered during her coma to the serenade of the soothing jazz music as the delicious food came in seemingly endless courses of mouth-watering cuisine. They stared from time to time deep into each others' eyes, as only lovers can do, forgetting the world around them. And with the final strain of the saxophone, marking the end of the band's set, Dara and Jiyong finally left their little piece of French heaven and headed back to their hotel.



* * *



“Hope you're not too tired to check out this club. I haven't been dancing in ages,” she called from the bathroom.



Jiyong, already dressed in one of the casual suits Dara had bought him, sat on the bed, studying his little French phrases book.



“What do you think? Too much?”



He looked up and his jaw fell to the floor. There before him stood Dara in a black cocktail dress, sequined in just the right places to accentuate every luscious curve of her body. The length was obscenely short, at least in his opinion. The front of the dress was appropriately cut, showing a hint of cleavage but otherwise remaining tastefully demure, but the back of the dress more than made up in the sizzle factor as it plunged dangerously low towards her waist.



“Where's your bra,” he whispered huskily.



“This thing has a built-in one,” noticing the hunger in Jiyong's eyes. “Maybe I'll try the other one on.”



Moments later she emerged in a deep rose, flirty little number, the skirt of which billowed softly around her knees, swirling and hugging her legs with her every turn. Jiyong gulped, remembering his promise to behave, and thought of cold mountaintops, his mother, Dara's mother, and anything else that could keep his arousal at bay.



“You look stunning in both, Dara. But I'd go with this one if you want to avoid unwanted advances from erted gentlemen such as myself. I just need to check one thing.”



He took her hand and held her close to his chest before suddenly twirling her out. She laughed as her dress flared around her.



“You're still covered even at maximum twirl. We're good to go,” he smiled.



She grinned.





* * *





“I should have worn the black one,” she murmured to Jiyong as they waited in line to enter one of the most popular night clubs in Paris, Le Showcase.



“Patience, D. We're almost there. And even without that black number, we're in as soon as the guard gets a look at that gorgeous face of yours.”



“Jagi, you're too sweet,” she giggled, nuzzling her forehead into his chest.



She looked up just as they reached the beginning of the line, her eyes sparkling from the immense love she felt for this man. The man at the door looked up from his list and, dumbfounded by her beauty and the lovers' glow on her face, stepped aside in a daze to usher them in. Jiyong smirked, knowing too well the thoughts running through the bouncer's mind.



The club was a sight to behold. Uniquely situated under the Alexander III bridge, the shifting colors of neon bounced off of the series of archways lining the dance floor. The table that they were able to snatch up from a couple that had suddenly left in a mass of limbs and lust was actually an antique arcade machine. The place was packed with people, dressed to the nines, writhing to the music that pulsed like a massive heartbeat. Dara motioned for a waitress and gave her order, an apple martini. She looked to Jiyong for his order.



“Patron on ice, please!” he yelled through the noise.



The waitress nodded and sauntered off to fetch their drinks.



“I'm gonna go to the bathroom!”



“We just got here!”



“I know....I had too much coffee at the jazz place!”



“Okay! Want me to come with you!”



“No! Just wait for our drinks! I'll be back!” she kissed him lightly on the lips and scampered off to find the restroom.



After fighting the long line of women struggling for some time in front of the small sliver of a mirror in the women's restroom, Dara came back to find Jiyong politely conversing with a scantily clad brunette.



Well what do you expect to happen when you leave a man like that by himself in a place like this, Park!



She closed the distance between them in fury, mentally throwing poisoned daggers at the woman who was obviously making her most avid attempt to join Jiyong at the table.



“Here she is,....Dara!” he stood up, giving her a look that cried help.



“Sorry I took so long, baby. The line was atrocious,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that lingered intentionally for longer than needed. “Did you miss me?”



He looked into her eyes, lost to the rest of the world.



“More than you could imagine,” he murmured, finally looking at the girl who was fuming beside him, “Gidget was kind enough to keep me company while you were gone. She speaks a little Korean.”



“The name eez Bridjeeet,” she seethed, not willing to give up so easily.



“Thank you for watching over my Jiyong, Digit,” Dara said, her voice monotonous, her glare clearly conveying her thoughts.



Bridget faltered momentarily at the weight of Dara's glare before composing herself and making a final attempt at Jiyong's hand.



“Mistar Kwon, let mee know eef you tire of zis waif of a woman and desire something more, how you say, voluptuous to dance weeth.” She pouted her chest at him slightly and gave him her most seasoned 'I'm easy' look.



Jiyong nodded politely and looked away. Dara picked up her martini and downed the contents in a single gulp then moved herself between Jiyong and Bridget. She turned to Jiyong, running her hand up from to his chin.



“Wanna dance, Jagi?” she breathed into his ear. He wrapped his arms around her, visibly suppressing a wolf-like instinct to pull her into a passionate kiss.



“Sure, D. Nice to meet you, Midget,” finishing his Patron and leaving a tip at the table.



They left Bridget seething behind them.



As they found a spot on the dance floor, Dara whirled towards Jiyong, who was facing the table they had just left.



“Is she still watching us?” she asked, her voice tinged with jealousy, her body poised to use him as a pole for one of those dance routines.



“I'd love to say no, simply to know what you're planning next, but I'll stay true to our romance only contract, Miss Park. Midget is no longer interested.”



Dara glanced to confirm that the brunette had indeed stalked off, in search of her next victim. But as she looked around the dance floor, she was met with a familiar sensation....like the night she'd first met Jason. Countless pairs of lust-filled eyes were using Jiyong to fuel some scenario in their minds, and Jiyong, completely clueless, was feeding their desire with some surprisingly adept dance moves.



She shouldn't have been surprised. The fluidity of his movement during their lovemaking was the biggest tell that Jiyong really knew how to move his body. Nonetheless, Dara was mesmerized along with the rest of the women gaping at him as he moved his body with a carefree grace that contradicted the precise dance movements. He popped and locked his limbs and torso with ease, gyrated his hips in just the right moments, and his facial expressions. She almost squealed. This Adonis....her Adonis...could dance like nobody's damn business. Catching her eye, he danced his way closer and pulled her into an gyration of their hips, moving in sync to the music.



“I hereby release you from your romance only contract, Dr. Kwon.” she said, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of control over her voice.



“Why, Dara. Are you so easily seduced by a few simple dance moves?”



“Simple? You call that simple? You could go out for So You Think You Can Dance with that, Mister!”



“If it's all the same to you, I'll keep these moves between me and you.”



“Yeah, and about a billion other y eyes,” she grumbled looking around them.



“Well, D. There's an easy fix to that. And it doesn't even have to break our contract,” he said and tucked her chin up with his forefinger.



He gazed deep into her eyes, fancy footwork forgotten, and tried to convey through them the immeasurable amount of love her felt for this woman. The world, as it always did, faded away, the dance music dulled, and there was only her.....his butterfly. They stood motionless in this embrace, ignoring the pulsating bodies around them. Then, finally, he drew his face closer and placed his lips gently on hers.



He hadn't kissed her like this since the first night, when he'd seen her for the first time, in his bathroom back in Seoul, before the whirlwind of events that had brought them to this moment. No lips crashing together in lust. No urgency to taste each other in every possible way, just a simple joining of the lips. But this kiss, this beautiful, sweet, loving, and gentle kiss took her heart to heights she'd never thought were possible. She felt his love coursing through her, the overwhelmingly deep love that engulfed her from the moment he'd whispered his love for her. Time stopped, the world disappeared, and there was just Jiyong and his lips on hers and his love penetrating deep into her soul.



He pulled away and looked into her eyes again, searching, confirming that his message got through, yearning to know that she felt the same. She gazed back and smiled softly, a single tear falling from her eye. Without breaking his gaze, she took his hands into hers, raising them to her chest. He felt her heartbeat racing and smiled. She did feel the same.



“You did this. You always do this. Only you. I love you.”



He closed his eyes and let the rush of those words course through him.



“Let's get out of here, D.”



She nodded and they headed out, oblivious to the eyes that followed them in envy, in longing, in desire. It didn't matter.



They walked back to the hotel, the night air cooling them from the heat of the club, holding hands and marveling at the power of this city of love.



“So, touristy stuff tomorrow, Miss Park.”



“Yes, Ji. Touristy stuff....and a surprise.”



“Another surprise, D?”



“More like a reward for good behavior,” she smirked handing him an index card.



“Bathe together,” he read and chuckled, remembering the desperation he felt on that first date.



“If you're still interested, that is, Ji,” she teased.



“Wild elephants could not keep me from it, D.” he smiled and held her close as they walked on into the night.