Title: Aperitif
Author: Forever Fan
Rating: T
Spoilers: A few
Category: Romance/Supernatural
Disclaimer: This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and FOX Television.
I make no profit and intend no infringement.
Summary: Sharing intoxications increases appetites before dinner. Part two of the journal series of stories.
Feedback: Yes, please
Journal: His
Recalling that dinner date I remember thinking I knew the restaurant would be a hit. I'd never been there before; it was secluded and upscale but understated – just the sort of place I thought Phoebe would enjoy. The quiet atmosphere allowed us to speak in hushed tones, and I loved hearing her charming accent in a soft, low voice just for me. When she said my name it sounded like an endearment, and it gave me a thrill to hear the tiny but noticeable intake of her breath when I murmured her name into her ear when we were dancing.
Dancing with Phoebe was a more sensual experience than any night I'd spent in any other woman's bed. She was unbearably soft and feminine and fit in my arms as if she belonged there forever. I didn't want to let her go and she was in no hurry to finish our dance. So I danced with her song after song; gently moving together while our surroundings slowly faded away. I would have held her like that all night if she would have allowed it. I certainly had no appetite for dinner. All of my hunger was for the beautiful woman in my arms. Her warm curves and gentle fragrance went a long way to satisfy my cravings – well, many of my cravings anyway.
The entire experience threatened to overwhelm me. I am usually very self-possessed with women, a very "take charge" sort of guy who enjoys treating a woman with respect and attentiveness. And I think I'd shown that to her that night. However, inside I felt like an insecure teenager who can't believe he's on a date with the Homecoming Queen. And it didn't take my higher mathematics skills to add up the properties of the dress she wore that night: short plus silky plus slinky equals sexy. I hardly knew what to say to her. Luckily, words didn't seem very necessary and we were communicating very well without much conversation. I enjoyed just being able to look at her and see the woman she really is without having to share her attention. There is so much more to Phoebe than her bubbly, domestic persona. I also liked the way she was gazing at me. Her tender smiles and the mysteries of her deep blue eyes kept me entranced.
After the band stopped playing I reluctantly released her from my embrace and we returned to our table. I felt chilled without her close and once seated immediately reached for her hand. I needed to continue to touch her. For years I had never ventured even the most innocent physical contact with her, but after a short time on the dance floor I suddenly found I couldn't go even a moment without feeling her skin. Phoebe's hand is so small and delicate I was afraid I would unintentionally hurt her, so I kept my touch light. But when stroking her palm I saw desire flare in the depths of her eyes and wondered if she was aware of what she is telling me without a word. I felt my own response to her and instinctively tightened my hold on her fingers. Then I touched her wrist and realized her heart was pounding in a rhythm that matched mine. I tried to smile as I released her hand.
She pulled away a bit. I didn't want to frighten her although at the moment I was badly frightened myself. Where was all of this leading? I knew I desperately wanted to be alone with her, but that's hardly anything new. What was new was the knowledge she wanted to be alone with me too and that the admiration and affection we have been feeling for so long had ripened into love and very strong sexual desire. I was so elated that the part of me that should be able to think clearly about consequences had drowned in happiness. I wanted to be with her, and I wanted to be with her now.
I saw the conflict in her eyes and smiled at her. Phoebe's unique intuition must have been telling her what I was thinking and in that moment I felt just as intuitive. How can we be alone? Where can we be alone? I saw her blush and my own skin flushed in response. I wanted to take her away from this crowded restaurant to be alone anywhere…even the Starlight Motel if she would consent… The band started playing again and I took hold of her hand to lead her to the dance floor once more. If we couldn't be alone, maybe we could relieve some of this tension just by holding one another. Although I was clearly guiding Phoebe to the floor, I couldn't help feeling that perhaps she was the one directing us to take this time to pause before we made any further moves forward that night. I certainly didn't want to make any false steps that could jeopardize what may be the best relationship of my life.
Holding her too closely again, we moved to the rhythms of the music and each other. I touched my lips to her forehead feeling silky blond hair caress my cheek. Her eyes were closed and I resisted the urge to kiss those lowered lids. I felt so weak it was all I could do to keep us standing upright. She nestled into my chest; my hand on her lower back pulled her closer and my fingers pressed into her flesh. Slowly Phoebe began making rocking motions with her hips that forced me to groan. Did she realize what she was doing to me? Again that sensual move and again I involuntarily moaned. One of us had to stop this, but I didn't think it could be me. She felt too exquisite so close, but I knew one more torturous movement like that and I would lose control.
I think I surprised her when I abruptly pulled away. She was maddening in my arms, but if I didn't let her go I would have embarrassed us both. I hadn't so much as kissed her, but my desires were leading to actions that would have had me devouring her right there on the dance floor. No. I had too much respect for both of us to do that. So I led her back to the table, hoping a glass of wine would steady me.
After sharing a glass, I finally looked at her and saw those wise, honest eyes gazing back at me. I knew then that she understood my hunger – and that it wasn't just for her flesh. Phoebe knew I loved her, and that my conflict was from not knowing if she loved me enough to want more than simple passion. Our gaze held for a long time. I knew she was a woman full of love, a giving and generous soul. And I also knew she was not a woman who had given herself in this way before. Although she may be an engaged woman, she was in love with me, she wanted me. Silently she told me that. And I tell her without words that she is the only woman I wanted, maybe the only woman I have ever wanted. And I needed her to know that I was in love with her. That wasn't an evening of mere seduction: I wanted much, much more from Phoebe than where that night was headed.
Journal: Hers
Sitting down now and thinking about that dinner date I remember it was wonderful. The restaurant was intimate with its tasteful décor, cosmopolitan menu, raised dance floor and golden candlelight. Hal's one proposed slow dance melted into several more - he didn't seem to want to release me, and I had no desire to leave his arms. The quiet restaurant was so dimly lit that our too-close embrace went unnoticed by the other patrons as we swayed to rhythms unrelated to the music. Returning to our table, I felt as sultry as a hot summer night; all I wanted to do was to sink into the booth's deep velvet cushions and indulge in just watching his eyes.
Sometimes anticipatory imaginings fall far short of the actual experience and that night was one of those nights. I had expected Hal to be different, to turn on his most charming behavior, to smile and to compliment and to listen attentively to me. I knew he'd be solicitous and kind, a real gentleman who would treat me like a real lady. And all of that proved true. What I didn't expect were the silences; the silences where he held my gaze and watched my expressions as if he could tease out all of my secrets only in the quiet shadows. The intense scrutiny unnerved me at first, until I discovered this was a new way for us to learn about each other. We had certainly talked enough, what would be revealed unspoken?
When Hal reached for my hand his larger one covered my fingers. His hand is strong and warm and surprisingly smooth; the hand of a man whose work keeps him at a desk and not outdoors. He touched me as if I were something fragile and easily crushed. At first his caress was so light I could barely feel his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm. Then he squeezed my fingers and held them with tender possessiveness. As his touch became sure his eyes began to glitter and he paused as he searched my gaze. I could feel his heated touch moving across my palm as if erasing the tiny lines of fate and rewriting my destiny. My pulse began to race and Hal wrapped long fingers around my wrist feeling thin, blue veins throbbing against his fingertips. His lips twitched as if he were hiding a smile and when he slowly released my hand it fell limp on the table between us. For the moment it seemed as if his scientific curiosity was satisfied.
I felt as if he'd seen too much so I lowered my eyes. My hand tingled and I pulled it onto my lap as if I were injured. I needed to regain my self control and I needed him to reveal something more to me. Seeing desire in his eyes wasn't enough; I knew he wanted me. I needed to know I was the only woman he wanted. I had surprised him by wearing a dress that night that exposed more about me than was shown by a less modest cut of material. And although Hal isn't a man who can be controlled by his appetites, he could be led to show me what I want to see if I can find a way to manipulate him as easily as his holding my hand manipulates me.
He needed to be sure I desired him so he was testing me. Well, it should have been obvious to him that I was an easy experimental subject. Holding me on the dance floor should have been proof enough to satisfy his searching mind. I became quicksilver lust in his arms; he could tell that by the way I let him hold me too closely and by the way I couldn't control the tiny shivers of want that arced through my body when he touched me. I wasn't hiding my responses from him - I couldn't if I'd wanted to. I'd never felt
as I did when he held me and didn't have the slightest idea how to control myself with him. No other man had ever made me feel this way - as if I were dissolving under his hands, melting into his flesh, losing what separates us. If this was what happened on a crowded dance floor or when he held my hand in a restaurant, I was slowly becoming fearful of what would happen when we were alone and he kissed me.
I then saw the wisdom of living together with a strict, if unspoken, "hands off" policy.
Hal smiled a gentle smile at my flushed face. I knew he could tell what I was thinking. Unfortunately, when it came to our feelings for one another I found him difficult to read. My own emotions clouded the easy way I could usually interpret his feelings; all I ever connect with at times like these are his hunger. And that strong, primal urgency flooded me with its masculine strength and completely overwhelmed any ability for me to think clearly. I doubted he was even aware of how dangerous those feelings were or on what a tight but frail rein he held them. In the past, I have felt those tidal waves of emotions from other men but could interpret and deflect them easily. They never frightened me because I'd never felt my own unbridled response to their need. But I felt fear that night because my feelings were just as powerful and primitive as his – and I was afraid my control over myself was even more fragile.
I knew being alone with him would be my undoing. It would be easy enough to ensure that didn't happen – but I was in conflict over whether I wanted it to happen or not. Of course we couldn't be alone at home; but we could be alone on the solitary drive home – a flat tire or a dry gas tank or a sudden storm that made the roads too dangerous to navigate…
I even remembered a cozy, little motel between here and home that would be a perfect place to be alone. When I glanced up at him I saw a predatory light flash in Hal's eyes and wondered if he wasn't thinking of the exact same thing. The dark pink color across my cheekbones deepened and I saw a flush cross his face when he reached for my other hand.
I attempted to pull my hand back, but I wasn't quick enough. He caught it and rose from the table gently drawing me to my feet.
The band had begun to play again. Hal led me to the dance floor and I followed as if I had no will of my own. And maybe I didn't have a will separate from his any longer. He wanted to hold me in his arms again and I desperately wanted to be there pressed close to him. This was a safer place than a dark, deserted road with the friendly twinkling lights of a tidy motel beckoning. Perhaps here I could think of a strategy that wouldn't have me giving into these new and not-entirely-unwelcome yearnings. Here I could decide I would not give into desires that could be obstacles to what promised to be the most fulfilling relationship of my life.
As the music continued I felt surrounded by him. I closed my eyes against the handsome face just inches from mine to avoid seeing his irresistible eyes or the parted lips so near to my own I could almost taste them. But I could still smell the spicy, inviting scent of his aftershave and realized the tight hold he had on my hand was sending electric sparks along my spine. My cheek brushed his shirt front; his heart beat close to my ear and his moist lips grazed my brow. I felt his breath stirring my hair and heard him sigh as the hand low on my back pressed me closer. The heat from his wide palm caused me to melt from the inside. My hips made the tiniest movement against him, a small rocking motion I was shocked to find I could not control. The groan I heard in his throat sounds low and tortured and my pulse began to race once more. Enthralled, I continued those untamed motions just to hear that sound from him again and again and again.
Suddenly Hal pulled away and looked down at my startled expression. The sky blue color of his eyes seemed stormy now and he was not able to fully catch his breath. He released me from our embrace, but his engrained social training allowed him to escort me to our table with light fingertips on my back to guide me.
Seated across from one another he poured wine into both of our glasses with a slightly unsteady hand. He took a deep breath and a long drink before looking at me again. His eyes were dark and slightly pained: he looked confused and I realized he was fighting with himself. He wanted to continue our dance, wanted to seduce me into going somewhere to be alone with him, and wanted to give in to his hunger and his lust. He looked steadily into my eyes and I knew he was aware I would have followed him anywhere. I refused to look away from him and in silence told him I needed him as much as he needed me. He had to understand I loved him and that I knew he loved me. As I watched the conflict clear from his eyes I finally saw what I had wanted him to show me: I was the only woman he wanted and the only woman he loved. And I wanted more from Hal than where that night was headed.