Adagio
Chapter 1: Wine
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd and WB
"Oh, V. That looks beautiful." Evey extended her hand to receive the delicate wineglass from V's gloved fingers. He had given her a glass for red. The stem seemed rather short but only because the bowl was so large. She turned the crystal, admiring the shape and the glitter the candlelight reflected in the curves. She had to stop moving the glass, as he was now bringing the mouth of the wine bottle towards her. She held the glass still as he poured the ruby liquid. She watched as the wine swirled in the bowl, the most delightful scent of berries and roses wafted to her face. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the perfume. "Ah…it has been years since I tasted any good wine, and I think I have never experienced anything like this, ever. What is this?" she asked him as she took a tiny sip.
"It's a Cabernet. Almost ten years old. If I had paid for it, it would have cost more than ₤90. It is very fine. It suits you." He stood there by her elbow, watching her taste it.
Her mouth burst with the flavor of ripe, sun-washed berries. After the silky sweetness slid down her throat she breathed in the aftertaste of oak and fresh grass. "Oh God," she closed her eyes and leaned back against the softness of the sofa, tucking her feet under her, "this is the most blissful glass of wine I have ever tasted." She opened her eyes to look at him. She could tell he was pleased. He bounced up just a tiny fraction on the balls of his feet and turned his head. His hair swayed against his shoulders. Evey extended her glass for more and he poured. "Aren't you going to have any?" she asked, frowning, for he made no move to sit beside her. She shifted position to look behind him to see the wine bottles he had set out on the table near the sofa. He had brought out at least ten, all shapes, sizes, colors, and a little army of glasses for red, white, champagne flutes and even a brandy snifter. "These can't all be for me."
"No, no, not all at once," he laughed softly, "I'm just showing off my little hoard. This is what I was able to secure last night while you were sleeping."
"So sit down and pour yourself a glass. I can't wait to hear what you think of this Cabernet. You are so much more knowledgeable than I am." She patted the cushion beside her. "Taste it and tell me how the vintner could make such a magical transformation from a common grape."
"No, I can't. Please drink that one. I have a Chardonnay chilling in the bucket I want you to taste, and if you like the Cabernet, there is a ₤300 Champagne that will amaze you."
"No." Evey set her glass down on the coaster. "I can't drink this fabulous stuff by myself. It's obscene. Wine like this is meant to be drunk with friends. You know that. I won't take another sip until you have tasted it too."
She heard him sigh. His arms dropped to his sides. His chin dipped to his collar. "You know I can't, Eve. Don't tease me. I so want to share this with you."
"But you're not sharing, are you. This isn't sharing. You are not sharing until you have taken a sip." She touched the sofa beside her leg. "Sit down, V."
He stood there, unmoving. Evey waited. She knew him well enough by now. He would sit. He would taste the wine. She just had to be patient, let him think. Sure enough, after a pause he moved past her knees and gracefully sank into the cushions beside her. She offered him her glass, now half-full, but he made no move to take it from her.
"No. Evey. Take another taste and tell me what you experience. Does it glide over your tongue? Is the bouquet heady? When you taste it, how long is the finish? Do you feel a thrill?"
Evey felt a twinge of pain in her heart as she heard the longing in his voice, the eagerness, the sadness. This cannot continue. He has to have some. "V. I insist. Take the glass." She moved the glass under his nose, swirling the wine, forcing the bouquet into the mask. The stemware, with its brilliant red contents, was like a rose offered to him. I offer it to him. Again, she waited, taking her cue from the way he sat motionless there, their knees almost touching. He's thinking again. He will take it. He must..
Evey's arm began to ache from holding her wine glass stretched out in front of her. Take it, V, she willed him. I can hold it here forever if I have to. She watched him think. She watched him want the wine. The mask tilted. He is looking from the glass to my face. He's watching me, too. Evey smiled a slow smile, a loving smile. She shook the glass gently, sending a fresh wave of fragrance into his mask. I know you can smell this. Take it. Slowly a black glove rose from his lap. Two long fingers touched the wineglass, stroked the bowl before pinching the delicate stem. Victory! He will take it.
"Thank you, Evey," he murmured.
"Shall I get you a…a straw?" she wondered. The wine is affecting me already. It is heady stuff.
"No, Heavens no. It would be a travesty to put this wine through a straw." He held the glass up to the candles that burned on the table. So many candles, dozens of them, each tiny flame reflected off the curved surface of the crystal.
Evey watched him admire the color, swirl and tip the glass. She watched him bring the glass to the mask and listened as he inhaled the fragrance. Evey watched him love the wine with a growing warmth in her heart that had nothing to do with alcohol. He is the most wonderful man I have ever known.
"Are you going to taste it?" She had to ask, since it appeared he had no intention of touching it to his mouth. She would not let him get away with merely admiring the wine. In order to share it properly, he must drink. She slid closer, allowing their knees to touch.
He looked at her, then at the wine. He bowed his head. "I will, if you want me to."
"I insist. Please. I want to share this with you, V. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever put in my mouth." She smiled wickedly. The wine is making me feel a little naughty. She thought about kissing him. What would he taste like after sipping that wine?
He dipped his head, bowing to her again, then turned around completely. Evey found herself looking at his back. This was not such an unpleasant sight. His broad shoulders were at her eye level, so she let her eyes wander from the point of his shoulder to his waist, delighting in that graceful taper, imagining what was beneath the black silk. His hair glimmered in the candlelight, the edges curled just enough to make her want to touch them. She reached a finger out, but drew it back as he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. Can't fool him. "Drink," she said. I'm waiting.
He turned away again, Evey watched as his elbow came up smoothly. Then the white mask appeared on the top of his head, its nose pointing up at the ceiling, the glove over its mouth. His head tipped back. The mask looked at her upside down. He did it. He did take a drink. The wineglass came down to his side, empty.
Evey quickly reached for the bottle. There was enough of the red for one more half glass. She refilled the glass from behind him before he could object. When he saw what she was doing, he laughed.
"What are you trying to do?" he asked her. His voice sounded so clear. For the first time Evey heard the baritone without a muffle. A shiver ran through her. It is like hearing him naked.
"I'm sharing this wine with my friend," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Take another drink." He did, this time the glass was only half empty as he brought it down. Evey stared at the back of his shoulders. "Well?" What do you think?"
"It is remarkable, as I expected. I'm glad I took two bottles." He handed the glass back to her.
Evey giggled. "Let's open the other one now!"
He laughed again. She would never tire of hearing him laugh. "No. Let me get the Chardonnay. It will be cold now." The glove came up, the mask came down and he rose and went to the kitchen. Evey looked at the glass in her hand. She moved to raise it to her lips and drain the last bit, to drink the wine he had drunk, the wine that had touched his mouth. She brought the glass up to her face, and stopped. There, on the opposite side of her own tiny lip mark, was a larger lip print. His lip print. She touched it with her finger. There was something stimulating about touching that print. She brought the rim to her mouth, touched his mark with her tongue. Put both her lips on it. I've just now kissed him. It felt good. Even an imaginary kiss felt good. What would the real thing feel like? Her body responded to that thought. She wriggled on the sofa. She looked back over the edge of the sofa, waiting for him. Hurry. Come back.
He appeared around the doorway, moving quickly, a dripping bottle in one hand, the corkscrew in the other. He brought her the wine. "Hold this while I get the glasses." Evey held the cold bottle until he produced the white wine stemware. Two glasses this time, she noticed with triumph. I will not be drinking the Chardonnay alone.
He poured. Evey raised her glass to toast, he brought his up to meet hers and they clinked prettily together. "Amore," Evey said. His hand shook and precious drops of Chardonnay landed on her knee. No. I am not a subtle woman. Evey smiled and took a drink. He just stared at her. "Drink, V."
He turned around again, the mask slid up over his head. Again he drank the wine slowly, raising the glass several times before it was gone. He was truly enjoying himself. She could tell by the sounds he made. Evey closed her eyes to better enjoy her own. This wine was sweeter, drier. The bouquet was floral with a slightly spicy finish, and so cold. She opened her eyes again. A rush of happiness flowed through her. Is it the wine? Can people really bottle happiness? V sighed next to her. Yes. This little wine-tasting party has made him happy. She finished her glass, reached out and put her hand on his back, between his shoulders. He is always warm when I touch him. I don't touch him enough. She moved that hand, feeling the muscles under the silk, the bones of his shoulder blades, the muscles over his ribs. Now two hands. One wasn't enough. She snaked her arms around his waist. He stiffened, reached for the mask and brought it down so he could turn around and face her. He was taking his strong back away from her, but now was making the front accessible. She put both hands on his chest instead.
"What are you doing?" he whispered.
"Enjoying the wine," she whispered back. "Pour some more." He did. Offered her the sunny Chardonnay again. She took it with one hand, left the other on his chest, then moved it to his arm, feeling the strength in his bicep, in his shoulder, touched his neck. She sipped her wine looking at him. Does he like me touching him? He wasn't making her stop. He hadn't moved away. She listened to him breathing. It is the only way to tell. He had dipped his head. Is he thinking, or just looking at my camisole? She looked down at her chest. Yes, that is what he is doing. She was not wearing a bra and her nipples were holding the fine ivory silk of the little camisole out like tiny tent stakes. The imagery made her giggle. She crossed her legs to tame a shiver that emanated from between them. Not yet. It's not time for that yet. But her body wanted to argue with her. "V? Drink your wine."
She heard him laugh low and soft as he turned around again, lifted the mask. His hair was getting quite messy now; every pass of the mask over his head ruffled the hair a little more. Evey combed a few of the worst snarls through her fingers while he was drinking. His elbow paused when he felt her touch his head, but he didn't tell her to stop. She combed him between sips, laying the locks here and there, playing with them. She had wanted to touch them for so long. She leaned closer to the back of his neck and smelled him, leather and silk and the scent of a warm man. Evey squeezed her legs together, sighed with happiness. She set the empty glass down. He set his next to hers, touched the mask back into place and turned around again to face her.
"Eve."
"Hmm?" He had taken his hair away when he turned, she moved her hands to his thighs instead, running a finger over the muscle there. She was so close to him now, her head beneath his chin, her legs against his, she was practically on his lap. Yes, that is what's next. She thought about the best way to crawl into his lap.
"Eve. Please stop."
"Dun wanna," she answered. She heard him sigh. It would serve no purpose to look up at him. His expression never changed. She took all her cues from the sounds emanating from his chest just inches from her ear, and those sounds told her that his voice was lying. If he touches my nipples…his glove was dangerously close to her breasts…I will know for sure that he fancies me. Sure enough, she watched his hand twitch, then one finger of the glove moved the few inches to lightly touch one nipple through the silk. Evey leaned closer to tell him she liked it. Then the finger was joined by the other three. She leaned in closer to let him get a better grip and fell off the sofa.
She landed on the Isfahan all in a tangle of arms and legs, laughing. She banged her head against the table and laughed harder. She could hardly see from laughing. V joined her on his hands and knees down on the floor. His deeper laugh mingled with her own high giggle.
"Evey, are you hurt? I heard you hit the table."
"Nuh!" Evey couldn't stop giggling, she felt him put a glove on the back of her head. "Ow, " she laughed, "Ow." She watched with a disconnected astonishment as an empty black leather glove hit the carpet just beneath her eyes. She felt his bare hand on the back of her head through the short curls.
"You have a lump. I feel it. No more wine for you. It is getting dangerous."
"No!" she cried, "I want some more! Don't take it away!" This was too funny and she rolled on her back laughing. He laughed with her, tried to pick her up, but became unbalanced too and fell beside her. She heard him giggle. "Open the Pinot Noir!" she ordered him.
"I can't. I'm laughing too hard," he answered. "Besides, I can't find the corkscrew. It's around here somewhere."
Evey crawled around on the carpet looking for the corkscrew. The two empty bottles, the three empty glasses admonished her for being so silly. "Shut up" she said to them, "and tell me where the corkscrew is." The Chardonnay bottle had tipped over when she bumped the table. The neck of the bottle landed on the corkscrew. "Thank you," she said to it, handing the instrument to V. He was fumbling with the Pinot, trying to get the seal off the neck.
"This is not the way to have a wine tasting," he said using both arms on the bottle. Even with one glove off he was having trouble holding it still. Evey laughed again, crawled over to him. "Let me hold the bottle, you ram in the screw." This sounded funny to her and she rolled laughing some more. He laughed so hard he fell over, and the unopened Pinot rolled under the sofa.
"You know you are not supposed to swallow the wine," Evey giggled. "You should know that, V. You are supposed to spit it out."
"No, no," he laughed, "Never! Wine is not made to be spit, damn it. How insulting to the wine to spit it out. Wine is to be savored and drunk. Always," he reached for her arm and pulled her towards him.
"Then you must have gotten smashed at all the wine tastings you went to!" Evey imagined V drunk at some posh party and laughed even harder, gasping as tears ran down her face.
"I did! At every one! And my mates had to carry me back to the flat and dump me. They used to call me…" Evey waited for the punch line. What did they use to call him? It was going to be too funny, she knew. But silence. She blinked and tried to focus her eyes.
"V? What did they…" she allowed the question to fade away. He wasn't laughing any more. He had raised himself to his hands and knees and was still as death. "Are you hurt?" she asked with alarm. The giddiness was gone. Something was wrong. "V?" He did not answer. Evey crawled over to him, lifted his shoulders, pushed him back and sat him there on the floor against the sofa. He let her position him limply like a doll. "V?" She peered into the dark eyeholes of the mask, trying to see him in there, lifted his chin. Where did you go? Her answer was heavy breathing. He is trying to regain control. She climbed into his lap, put her hands on either side of the mask and touched her forehead to his. "What's wrong?"
He would not answer, but he put his arms around her and hugged her close. Evey made her mind slow down and behave. It was difficult through the fog of wine. We were talking about wine tastings, he said he never spit wine, he said he always got drunk at wine tastings, very bad form at posh parties, then his friends had to carry him home…that's it. She frowned. He had had a memory. For a few moments he had forgotten he was 'V' and forgetting V allowed the other man to surface. Now the other was gone again. What a shock after so many years. He was probably struggling to remember the rest and it is all gone. All gone. Tears fell on her cheeks. He needs a kiss, now. He needs a kiss. She put her thumbs under the chin of the mask and pushed it up, feeling for his mouth with her own. Her lips touched his chin briefly, before she found herself on the floor, the mask and wig in her hands. Empty. He was gone.
She heard his boots pounding away from her. She shook her head, tried to clear it. She stared at the mask. It was warm in her hands but she could feel it cooling as she held it. A surge of anger and frustration. She hated the mask. She stood unsteadily, leaned against the sofa. She drew back her arm and threw the mask down the hall, listened to it bounce on the flagstones and slide into the opposite wall. She took a wobbly step. Now I have to go find him.
