Disclaimer: None of the characters from Hey Arnold are mine. Only the originals characters I have created to expand the story. Cover art is by Wickfield. It's called 'I was just wondering...' I saw it years ago and fell in love with it. Please check the artist out. As always, reviews will be appreciated.


L'AFFAIRE

Paris, December 2014

She applied her lipstick. It'll do, she thought, looking into her gold mirror. As the car approached the intersection, she dropped the lipstick into her purse.

"Arrêtez-vous ici, s'il vous plait," she murmured in fluent French.

The black taxi halted. Its door swung open revealing a set of red patent stilettos. The expensive shoes clacked against the road. There, stood a woman, dressed in a red coat and a white beret, her raven hair blowing in the wind.

Slam.

The car door sealed shut.

There was a low purr as the taxi drove away.

Lowering her sunglasses, the woman eyed the building across the street. Hotel Panache.

What am I doing?

She sighed and smacked her lips. An odd habit she had formed before making important decisions. She was already here anyway. With determined steps, she crossed the street, trying her best not to make eye contact with anyone. It pays well to be careful. Someone might recognise her.

She entered the lobby. There was nobody inside except a man dressed in a white uniform. Professional-looking, probably in his mid forties. He was slightly tanned, dark-haired, and had pleasant eyes. He must be the concierge. With a wide smile, she approached him.

"Bonjour, madame!" the man behind the counter greeted. Jaques, it said on his shiny metal name tag.

"Bonjour," she greeted politely, placing her purse on the marble counter.

"Comment puis-je vous aider?" he asked.

"Um… Monsieur Garner m'attend," she said softly, looking around to see if anybody heard. The concierge's reassuring smile reminded her she was being paranoid. There are only the two of them around.

Get it together.

The man tilted his head, as if trying to remember. "Monsieur GarnerUn moment. Laissez-moi vérifier."

He flipped the pages of the big blue note book in front of him.

"Ah, oui. Voila! Monsieur Garner… Hmm, Monsieur Garner attend Madame Smith."

"Je suis Madame Smith." she replied.

"Avez-vous des ID?"

She gave him her credit card.

He looked at it and shook his head before returning it to her. "Non, madame. Un ID avec votre photo?"

She sighed and handed him her passport. He studied the photo intensely before focusing his narrowed eyes on her face. She felt slightly uncomfortable being scrutinised by this man.

Then, he smiled.

"D'accord. Il vous attend," he opened a drawer and pulled out a card key. He handed her both the passport and the key. She glanced at it. The numbers 6004 was stamped in gold.

"Voici la carte clé, madame."

There was an awkward silence as he watched her place her things back in her purse.

She gave him a tight smile before saying, "Merci beaucoup."

"De rien. Bonne journée!" he gestured to his right, the elevator opened just in time. She stepped in.

"Vous aussi," she said under her breath before the silver doors closed.

Good day indeed.

Her hand hovered on the door for the longest time. Should she knock? Or should she just enter? Is he even inside? She forgot to ask.

Damn it.

Taking a deep breath, she slotted the card key in the tiny slit. With a soft beep and a flash of green light, the door was open. She pushed it aside. It lead to a small receiving room. There was a tiny flat screen on the wall and two plush black sofa chairs. Thick interwoven gold and beige carpeting covered the floor. A tall lamp sat in the corner next to the pulled white curtains. Outside, it continued to snow and Parisians went about their Christmas shopping.

However, there was nobody inside. She closed the door behind her.

Maybe she missed him.

Just as she was about to walk to the door that could only be the bedroom, she saw it. A pair of shiny black shoes.

He's here.

She stared at it. She remembered that she gave him those. College. Senior year. They were Italian, custom-made.

Suddenly, she thought of how this may not have been such a good idea after all. She turned and just as she grasped the door handle, she heard his voice.

"Rhonda?"

She froze. Plastering a smile on her face before she faced him.

Oh God. Breath, woman.

He's wearing nothing but a hotel towel around his waist. And his chest… his chest was wet. Glistening. His damp dark hair were hanging in thick strands. It had gotten long, almost touching his wide shoulders.

She gulped. Definitely a bad idea to be here.

"You called so…"

"Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. He walked towards her. She put up both of her hands.

"W-wait!" she yelled.

He quirked a brow, obviously confused.

"Uh, I mean. Aren't you cold? Why not get dressed first?" she suggested. "I'll make both of us coffee while you do."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "First, there's nothing here but shitty 3 in 1 and we both know you don't drink that. Second, doesn't this usually end up with us naked, why bother getting dressed?"

She paused in thought before proceeding to remove her high heels and sitting down on one of the sofas. She didn't look at him but she could feel him watching her, maintaining his distance.

Rhonda looked up at him. "I figured we could talk first."

He shrugged. "Okay."

"Uh, do you mind taking a seat?"

"Not at all."

Thaddeus sat across her, readjusting his towel. Her heart beat just a little quickly as he did that.

He spoke first. "Listen, if you want to end–"

She stopped him. "No, this isn't about that."

Only by sitting down did she notice the painting on the wall. It was a bunch of yellow flowers in a red vase. The only pop of colour in an otherwise dull room. She smiled at the parallels and averted her attention to the person across her. The only pop of colour in her dull life.

"He has another one. In Barbados," she admitted.

He frowned. He was quiet but she knew he's upset. He leaned back in his chair before closing his eyes, his wet hair dripping on the seat.

"So what are you planning to do?" he said.

With a soft breath, she whispered, "Get even."

Gaining courage, she stood up and plopped herself on his lap. His eyes immediately popped open. She looped her arms around his neck. He smelled fresh. Of citrusy shampoo and Dove. She also detected a hint of mint. She leaned in for a kiss that he readily received.

Under her fingers, she felt his skin warm up. And then, burn blazing hot as if he was lit on fire. He bit her lower lip before pulling back. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes. His caramel eyes were dilated with desire. She continued to rub her hands on his smooth shoulders. He gave her a tiny smile and a peck on her left cheek.

She had always found overtly emotional gestures and moments unbearable.

It was easier when the sex was more aggressive, purely for pleasure.

So she trailed kisses down his jaw.

"Rhonda," he groaned while she nibbled on his neck. She ground her hips against him and felt him harden under the measly towel.

He tugged on the sash of her red coat and then started unwrapping her from it. Slowly. Giving kisses on her collar bone then her shoulder, savouring her smooth, delectable skin. He gave an unexpected laugh after seeing what's under her coat.

"What?"

"You couldn't wait to get here, could you?" he whispered, his hot breath blowing on the delicate shell of her ear.

She gave him a saucy smile. "No."

"This is the best Christmas present I have ever received."

Wearing nothing but a black corset and black panties may not have been the smartest thing to do in winter but right then she just couldn't care. It was worth it just seeing that look in his eyes.

A hunger that only she could satiate.

He lead her to the bedroom before he devoured her. It was incredibly satisfying to pull the white hotel towel off him. Her cries of pleasure could be heard from the hallway.

The melancholy and the guilt comes after the act. It was always accompanied by silence. The air-conditioning unit sings a soft tune and the sheets rustle. He runs his fingers through her hair. Hers are on his chest. No words are needed.

He knew that she'd be gone in the morning. He's fine with it. What he doesn't like is the thought of her going back home to her big empty mansion waiting for a man who never comes home. She was once in love. He'd seen it. That was why he ached for her when she talked about him.

What he doesn't know is that she only felt whole when she was with him. A sense of belonging and acceptance she's never felt anywhere else. Only with him. It was why no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stay away. It was wrong. It was dirty. What they're doing was everything against she believed in but that's what made it all the more fun.

As she laid on her childhood nemesis' chest, she thought about why this wasn't how her life turned out. She could have have had this with him every night for the rest of her life. She gave him another kiss. There's no use pondering about it now.

She'll cry about it on the taxi later.

There was a note on the side table.

Thanks for being there for me always. - R

He crumpled it up and threw it in the trash before packing up. This business trip affected him more than he imagined.