Meet me at midnight
Santana's POV
New Years Eve is perhaps the most exciting night of the year. For most people it's the exhilaration of greeting the dawn of a new year, getting a fresh start, writing a new list of promises. It used to be all those things for me, but not anymore.
The telephone rings as I zip up my travel bag. I mentally check that I have everything, ignoring the persistent jingle. I spy my plane ticket on my vanity next to my Mohican, embroidered satchel a present from her. I pick up the phone knowing it won't be the person I want to hear from the most.
It's my mother. I nearly forgot that I had called her earlier.
"I just wanted to catch you before you left," She says it like she has a million times, "I got your note about the kids, it seems to get longer every year. You shouldn't worry so much."
I want to scoff. She should know I take after her.
"I know you can handle them ma," I glance at the clock on my wall, "But Jorgie is going through that big boy phase and can be a little rebel sometimes. I hope that it's not too much…"
"Don't be silly," My mother blows hot air, I can imagine her face wrinkled from experiences great and humbling but always optimistic "you can't miss your important rendezvous."
She doesn't know much about it, I don't tell her because the memories are always sacred. But she knows; every year on New Year's Eve for the past ten years there was somewhere I needed to go, there was somebody I needed to meet. I don't know who it is, but that's the magic of it all, I'll know when I get there. I just need to be there, which means I need to leave now or I'll miss my plane.
"I love you mom," I say, hurriedly slinging my lone bag over my shoulder and picking up the rest of my essentials. "I'll call you when I get back and thanks for taking the kids, give my love to Janice and Jorgie…and tell them I expect their Christmas presents to last at least three months…"
"You better hang up now if you don't want me hanging up on you mid-sentence young…"
"Alright mom, Love you and thanks again." I stuff the phone in my pocket and put on my boots, checking for the last time my ticket to Paris is safe in my jacket.
It had been a long day. To sell fashion you have to wear it and she'd been tolerating her new stilettos all day. It only meant one thing; it had to be remodeled even if its aesthetics had been praise by fashion critics and industrial icons alike.
Her phone buzzed in the center of Hollywood Boulevard. It buzzed once meaning it was a notification, something she had scheduled. She smiled though the ache in her feet increased. She didn't bother going through her bag and checking which one of her five phones had gone off, she knew exactly what the reminder would say. In 24 hours, it would be New Year's Eve after all.
I sit in my seat, preparing for take-off. Energy buzzes in every part of my body.
A flight attendant stops by and asks if there is anything she can do for me. I say no thanks and settle into my first class seat. After all, the only thing I want right now is a secret, something that hasn't happened yet; something that nobody can tell me. I shut my eyes just as the captain announces for everyone to fasten themselves in. Ten hours and I will be where the magic will unfold.
She had a satisfied smirk on her face. All five of her phones lay bare on her bed stripped of power pack and sim card. No one would be able to contact her now or find her. She was completely shut out from the rest of the world and it felt good.
Before taking everything apart, she made sure to send out two important text messages and made one call of confirmation. Throwing all the pieces in a shoe-box and stuffing it in her closet, she finally felt ready.
She locked up her penthouse suit, and rolled her single bag into the elevator. She travelled down to the ground floor from floor 32, never had an elevator ride felt so long. She exited and made sure to wish the ladies at the front desk of Hyatt Regency Century Plaza a fond farewell and Happy New Year. Out on the street, a taxi was waiting to take her to LAX just as she had expected.
Paris is cold, but I have come prepared. With only one bag it's easy for me to push through the thick crowd of tourists here for the holidays. Exiting Charles De Gaulle, I get a cab to take me to a specific address, 35 Rue Benjamin Franklin.
On the way, I make a proposition. I ask the driver if he will chauffer me around town.
On New Year's Eve, the demand for taxis will be great he tells me; I know this, so I offered to pay him a lump sum worth more than what he would get on a busy night. He agrees.
Our first stop is Hotel Eiffel Trocadero.
The first thing she thinks about when she sets foot on the snowy streets is that she's glad she brought her 'sensible' boots rather than the catwalk ones. Even with her athleticism and hard core training at the gym, she's finding it difficult to drag her bag along the street filled with people.
She looks at her watch, worried. It's nearly mid-afternoon and she hasn't found a place to stay. That was one thing she overlooked, something her mother would have called her stupid for. She booked a ticket but not a room. She realized this as she walked into the airport, but she figured it couldn't be that hard to find a room, it was Paris, a tourist city with many doors eager to welcome wealthy travelers.
Except, things were not as easy as she thought they would be. Standing on the streets, she took a moment to rest and look around her at all the commercial messages and welcome signs. She thought perhaps this was how Mary and Joseph felt when they were turned away at the inn. She had tried three hotels, they were all booked out. Maybe another street, she tells herself and tries to hail a taxi for her heavy load. It seems they are all called out as well. That's when she decides to walk.
On 17 Rue de l'Exposition, she stops at a small hotel, Hôtel de la Tour Eiffel. It's not very fancy but that isn't what matters at this point. She will settle for any sort of roof over her head. To her delight there are a few rooms available, and even one with a view of the famous tower. It's a deal maker.
She thought she'd feel claustrophobic in the small room. After all, she lives in a penthouse and this room barely has enough space for her to stretch her legs, but she finds the décor and bedding suit her taste.
Looking out the window at the giant phallic structure, she begins to feel the chill creep up her spine. She doesn't know what will happen but she needs to be prepared which means her dress needs to be freed from the confines of her suitcase.
I would have been lost without my chauffer. Thankfully, he knew the right places to take me – a suit store, florist and a restaurant overlooking the river Seine.
This is the first time I've been here, really. I always dreamed of travelling after graduating from NYU. Me and her, we had plans to travel the world together, leave our footprints, make our mark, - that sort of thing.
"Your order is here, Caesar salad, Lobster Thermidor, Tartiflette and a glass of Vin rouge."
I thank the waiter and carefully handle my silverware. It's shiny; I can see my reflection in the hollowed spoon. My thoughts go back to her. What did she see in me that day she got on her knee and asked the question I always thought I would ask her when I was ready? I didn't want to turn her down that day but I had to. I smile remembering the way she almost broke down into tears. Only after I told her I loved her too much to break a promise I wasn't in any position to keep did she understand. I was a broke college graduate, I couldn't say my vows to love and protect and provide for her when I had nothing. Two years of getting coffee and making copies at Cleary Gottlieb Steen & Hamilton LLP later, I was given my first real case on the Eve of 2002. That was when I asked her to marry me.
The city lights slowly came alive, one by one, but she didn't see the transition from solar to electric power overtaking the city. She put the final touch on her lips, a glossy cherry blossom color. It was nearly the time.
She ordered a simple meal from room service and took it on her bed as she watched the sparkling landmark from her window. That was where she must go, and she must not be too late. It was important. She put down her empty plate now holding only a French toothpick flag and used a napkin to dab at the edges of her mouth. In the mirror, she did a final check of her overall appearance, she was sure to be recognized no matter who it was she was meeting tonight. With a spray of mint flavored breath freshener she was coasting out.
Every few minutes I swipe down the back of my hair. It's a lovely Paris evening and I'm in no hurry to be anywhere. At 11 o'clock, people are out on the streets getting ready for the countdown. The unfortunate long line of visitors to the Eiffel tower amuses me.
I have no interest of being on top of the tower tonight.
Once more, I bring my hand to the back of my head. I don't know why I'm nervous or if this is going to grow into a habit. I've never worn a wig before. It's not uncomfortable but it makes me feel self-conscious. At least I'm glad I'm wearing a tuxedo and a thick jacket over it. A group of teenagers walk by; they don't notice me or give me any strange stares. It's comforting in this bustling city to feel a part of it.
Its a quarter past and I think I should start heading for the tower. I stroll easily, slipping in and out of groups of people, family, friends, and lovers – there's only me and someone else alone on New Year's Eve. Not for long though.
I smile at a young couple as they take pictures with the pride of Paris. They must have seen me stop to watch them because the man is calling me over.
"Will you take a picture of us please sir?" He asks hesitantly as if wondering if I understand his language of communication.
"Only because you called me Sir," I wink and take the camera out of his hands. I've never been called 'Sir' before.
He throws me a wondering look but readies himself alongside his girlfriend for the camera. I count to three and see the flash go off on their beaming smiles.
"Thank you Sir," The boy retrieves the camera from my hand, "Sorry about the cold."
The girl nods and I wave them off. I don't really have a cold but that's irrelevant.
My destination looms ahead. Its a quarter till, and I have perfect timing. I put my hands in my pockets and take a moment to admire the beautifully lit, steel structure. One day, I tell myself, I'll bring my kids here. They'll love being so high, especially Janice, she told me yesterday how she read in a book that people get a new life after they die and that she wants to be a bird.
My kids always make me smile. They are the best damn things that have happened to me, even if it meant I had to put off some of my plans and my dreams.
The people near me are getting anxious; I can feel the energy and the excitement. It's nearly the time.
Its five minutes to 2013. It's this moment I've been waiting for.
Every time it's different but it happens in pretty much the same way. I'm waiting, not holding my breath but there are prickles in my stomach. I look around; everyone is looking to the sky, preparing to shout the 10 digits that will send them into the New Year. That is everyone but one. Like every time it happens in slow motion. There's a girl in a white dress, her hair curls around her slender face, and she's tall – taller than me with those shoes at least 4 inches on the heel. She hasn't seen me yet and maybe she won't know it's me she's looking for but she's too dazzling not to look at. I tell myself I'll indulge in this cup of heaven until she notices me.
Slowly I walk towards her, hands behind my back concealing my message to her.
She's a picture of grace even as she's shoved aside by some careless rouge boys in Sherlock caps. My hand catches hers before her knees can scrape the ground.
"Why thank you Mr." She says looking at me for the first time. A smile slowly spreads across her face.
"Lewis, Edward Lewis." I say. She seems to be thinking of something, her eyes sparkle as if she's landed on the answer.
"Thank you kindly Mr. Lewis," She uses my hand to set herself up right. "I'm afraid I would have had a nasty fall if you hadn't come to my rescue."
"Then I must be in the right place at the right time Ms…."
"Lisa Fremont," It's my turn to smile. I feel like I'm in a whole other era, her clear blue eyes melt reality like its butter on a hot pan.
Behind me the chanting has begun.
Slowly I lean in, whispering as I approach her angelic face, "Would it be improper if I kissed you?"
I bring my hidden hand forward and present to her a single red rose. She takes it, her cheeks color up to nearly the same shade.
I can hear the jubilant voices surrounding me now more clear than ever… 5, 4 …3
"…Only if you didn't mean to come here and kiss me," She says in answer to my question.
She tilts her head so I see the first explosion of light in her crystal eyes before I close mine and kiss her.
It feels like a lifetime since I've had lips so soft against mine. When she breaths out, I breathe in; it's as if we share the same heart beat.
"Let's get out of here," I take her hand and wait for her to agree.
Far away from the maddening crowd, she sits beside me on a roadside bench.
"Paris is wonderful isn't it?" She says. I cannot agree more, I nod and my cheek brushes the top of her head. "What brings a handsome man like you alone to Paris on New Year's Eve?"
I chuckle because I could ask the same thing.
"Are you married?" She asks playfully, lifting her head off my bosom.
"No" I reply, "I'm here on business."
"What sort of business?"
"You are inquisitive, aren't you Ms. Fremont?"
"It's what I do…" she shrugs. Her hands slide up my coat to the shoulder. She brushes off hints of snow almost teasingly as her finger tips hover near my exposed neck.
"And what exactly is that?"
"Now you are the one with many questions Mr. Lewis,"
"Perhaps you will give me more answers over a glass of champagne?" I lift my eyebrow, helping her to understand.
"It is awfully cold,"
I hadn't taken note of that. Instantly, I slip out of my coat and cover her body with it. Her fur scarf is no match for the freezing temperature.
"Then I will call a taxi. There is a place where we will be warm."
"Is it not difficult to find a taxi at this hour?"
"I have my ways," I wink as I tell my driver where to pick us up.
"Champagne for the lady," the bartender smoothly slides a glass across to the woman on my right. The soft artificial light only makes her more enticing.
"Do you know it is not polite to stare Mr. Lewis?"
"Pardon me; I have never seen a woman so beautiful." She blushes yet again. I have lost track of how many times I have made her react this way to my words.
"I am more than beautiful,"
"Is that so?" I know now she is anything but modest.
"I know many things, ask me." She sets her glass down daintily and throws me a challenging smirk.
"Tell me then, why is it that cuisine is the only thing the French have gotten right so far?"
"That Mr. Lewis is simple; there are many laissez-faire mouths to feed in this fair country. The woman here are beautiful and the men must afterwards take to satisfying their hunger. The culinary arts are of utmost importance for the nation's survival."
"Not only a brilliant smile but a brilliant mind," I say, impressed with her answer.
"You have not told me what you are doing here Mr. Lewis."
"As I said, I am on business but that has not been well so far. Someone like you could be very helpful." This perks her interest.
"How so?"
"You seem quite knowledgeable. I can assume you are well known in many social circles and have access to many powerful people. There are some people I should like to be acquainted with."
"That is very presumptuous of you." She gives a hearty laugh, displaying perfect rows of pearly whites.
"Of course your services would be compensated for. You would finally be a woman with an actual job."
"If you think insulting me will win me over, then I am sorry to tell you that I am not interested. I do have a job."
"Do tell me what employment you have found, if not that of making rounds at esteemed men's guestrooms." I string her along knowing she is playing into the palm of my hand.
"How dare you," She grits her teeth hotly in my face. "I am a respectable woman, a columnist and you are asking me to be an escort."
"Not in those exact words my dear," I sooth her with a hand on her thigh. "A columnist, I imagine you do not write the economics page?"
"If you must know, I write the gossip column although I know I am better than that."
"And I think the very same," I pat her leg lightly and draw my hand higher only to remove it. "That is why I propose to hire you to counsel me on important matters. How does a 5 digit sum look to you?"
"What if it is not enough?" She challenges. "What if I need more?"
"Then let me show you something upstairs in my room." I put my glass down and stand up. I extend my hand expectantly. I give her a satisfied smile when her hand joins mine.
I draw the curtains, letting the city lights illuminate the bedroom. She's waiting at the table, legs crossed beneath. She tightens the fold and looks directly at me, daring me to unseal them.
It's a cold Paris night but the tuxedo feels stuffy, the tie around my neck is suffocating.
"Uhum, do you mind if I…?" I pull the collar of my shirt lightly.
"Not at all," She says easily and rolls her head, her eyes still trained on me. She's watching me as if I was a revealing show.
I fumble with my tie, eventually getting it off. It slips through my sweaty fingers and rests on the floor, forgotten.
I don't know what she's doing, I hadn't seen her coming but there she was a hairs breadth away from me.
"Better yet, let me help you…" She's confident, sliding her hands up and down my chest along the line of buttons. I'm only capable of stuttering a permissive response as she slips the first button out of its slot. I was doing so well, but now I can barely keep from shaking, how does she do this to me?
The final button falls away, her hand is ready to weave through the newly created slit.
"Wait," I grab her wrist. "I haven't shown you what I meant to."
"Oh," Her eyes twinkle in the moonlight, "I thought you wanted to show me…"
Embarrassed, I move away from her. At the bedside table, I pick out something long and heavy.
"This. If money is not enough, will this convince you?" I let the metal slip through my fingers till only the tip is held. She looks at it and I know it's having the desired effect. I was hypnotized by the stone the first time I saw it and knew I had to have it.
She shakes her head, crumpling my spirit. "It is too precious, and I cannot be bought with jewels."
I open my mouth to speak.
"Do you not know?" She moves forward till her face hovers inches above mine, "a handsome, influential man like you, what more could a girl want?"
I know she's seducing me, and by the end of the night she could be gone with all my secrets and leave me with nothing. But my want is too strong, and if I am all she needs to be convinced then I will give myself to her. I am weak and too easily overpowered by her prowess.
"Then," I grip her shoulders and gently turn her around. The aroma on her neck is summer sweet, "accept this as a promise, you will get all you desire if you help me."
The deal is complete with the fastening of the chain around her. My lips are drawn to her long, elegant neck. I drag them up to her ear where I place a contained kiss.
"Will you let me help you now?" She asks and I say yes.
She turns and for the first time I am struck with how much more stunning the stone is when compared with her orbs. "You will have all the time to look at me, I am not going anywhere. But as for you…" she trails, there is no need to complete what we both know will become of me.
I lend her full authority to remove my upper layers; she does so carefully, admiring my dark skin. I am nearly bare from torso up, save for the cloth wrapped taut across my chest.
"Mr. Lewis, this is highly unnecessary. There is no need to hide from me tonight." I shiver as she touches me over the cloth. Her hands reside soft and warm, caressing until she needs more. Her hands unravel the unnatural skin colored band. Only when it is discarded does she replace her hands where they were. This time I jump with excitement. It occurred without my command.
"Ms. Fremont, I'm afraid that if you do not hurry, I will not be able to contain my desires for you." I speak in a broken whisper.
"Whoever told you to hold back?" That was the last straw for me. I turned her around lay purchase on the metal holding her dress together.
"Do not taunt me." I reveal the vast expanse of her back. My fingers glide upward to the pads on her stately shoulders and move them off. The maiden white dress heaps on the floor but I take no notice.
"Have I told you that you are the most exquisite creature I have seen in all my life?"
"Words only go so far…" She says and I play into her game.
I hold her in my arms to shield her from the cold. I did not expect heat from the embrace but my body burned against her nonetheless.
I begin in fervor to taste her silk skin. She shivers, not from the cold.
"Bed," she says. As I release her she shoves me back with the tips of her fingers against the peaks of my bosom.
She grabs at my pants and makes quick work of them. We are nearly equals now.
"This needs to go," She pulls at my hair; it falls off with a clump and with one quick movement I send it off the bed.
"This as well, Ms. Fremont, "I unhook her upper lingerie.
"Call me Lisa," I nod.
"To you, I am Edward my love,"
Her barren breasts stare back at me. I have only one thought in my mind. I must have them in my mouth.
There is no need to tell her or meekly ask. There are no more boundaries between us that exist.
My body follows my brain and she moans in satisfaction. I have the burning desire to do more than just taste the fruit of her breast.
She's one step ahead of me, pulling down my drawers gliding away from me. I am rewarded with a wet trail approaching my lips for behaving.
My lips find hers; the exchange is slow and long. It goes on till my lungs feel like they have been consumed by fire.
"You say I am beautiful, Edward." She runs her hands across my excited peaks and down my stomach, "yet you are a prize the gods would valiantly slay for. You take my breath away."
She was wrong, I couldn't breathe when she looked at me that way.
Without another word she lays her lips on me once more. Her wandering hands find the source of my pain and she soothes it.
I feel only pleasure once she is a part of me.
We make love to the joyous celebrations of the New Year like we have in so many past lives. In every life she sings like a nightingale.
I open my eyes at the break of dawn not sure why I am awake so early. It's the cold, even with the heater on; it's the feeling of missing somebody. I roll out from under the sheets when she comes out of the bathroom, uncovered all except for a prominent blue pendent hanging around her neck.
"Hey darling," I hold her against me as she settles in my lap. She takes the cold away so easily. My hands slide up her body. With a touch, the pendant sways.
"You still didn't tell me how you got this necklace honey."
"And I told you I have my ways, but if you have to know I got it at an auction back in September. It used to belong to some duchess."
"It's so pretty," she plays with the dark blue rock, "It must have cost you a fortune."
"It's our ten year anniversary darling, it costs me nothing compared to having you for all this time."
She smiles and kisses me. This time it isn't Lisa and Edward, it's me and her.
"Thank you, for making every New Year special. I love you. And I loved your wig."
I laugh. "I almost got a permanent straightening, but I know you like it just the way it is."
"You made a very handsome Richard Gere," She playfully rakes my hair back. It's a failed attempt.
"And to me you are more beautiful than Grace Kelly."
Waking up for the second time, I'm relieved to find her sitting beside me on the bed. I scoot myself closer so I can wrap my arms around her waist.
"Good morning," She chirps.
"Morning, what are you doing?"
"I couldn't resist," I can see she's holding my phone in her lap.
"You called the kids,"
"They're wondering why we're never around for New Year's Eve."
"Did my mom tell them the same thing?"
We both know what my mom tells our kids when we're off on our rendezvous around the world.
"Yep, who needs the boring adults to spoil the New Year's fun?"
"Well, every new year is fun with you." I say thinking of next year and where we'll be celebrating New Year's Eve.
"It's not over yet, we haven't seen the town and I think I'd like to invite you to lunch at my place." She winks.
The new year has certainly started in the best way.
AN: For those who don't know, the character of Edward Lewis is from the movie 'Pretty Woman,' and is played by Richard Gere. Lisa Fremont is from 'Rear Window' and is played by Grace Kelly.
I had a really strong urge to write this so I did, if there's anything in the story you don't understand don't hesitate to PM me.
To all my followers, have a Happy New Year!