I thought of this when scrolling down story descriptions for "Inception" and thinking, damn, Ariadne's always paired off with one of the guys, well, mainly any one or more of Arthur, Eames, or Cobb, and yes, I'm kind of guilty of that, too, but since it's now given me the image of Arthur, Eames and Cobb sitting around a table with a tri-colored spinner. It lands on red and Eames gets up and says, "Well, looks like tonight it's my turn to sleep with Ariadne!" I just wanted to poke fun at the assumption.
Oh, and I do not own "Inception." It belongs to Christopher Nolan.
Not This
Arthur would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't interested in the new architect. She was far more creative, diligent, and intelligent than Nash. It also came to mind fairly early on that she was far easier on the eyes. He liked her tiny frame, the wide brown eyes, the mixture of idealism and healthy cynicism, the wit, candor, and doe-eyed beauty…oh fuck listen to him. He groaned inwardly. This is not good, he thought. It's always supposed to be about the job. It wasn't supposed to be about whether or not they shared a kind of chemistry that he thought they did; if she felt something, or if any tension between the two of them that had started from day one was all in his head.
And tonight, stopping by a local watering hole and seeing her in something entirely different from the androgynous, baggy clothes to which he was long accustomed, he knew his thoughts were trailing where they shouldn't be going.
She was stunning, hair swept up in a gentle bun that allowed a few waves to trail along her slender neck. She had on a violet dress that took her petite, waifish body and accentuated all that she had, which turned out to be a little more than he had originally thought, in all the right places. She looked happy, relaxed, confident; she wasn't a girl. She was a woman. And he walked up to this woman who was almost unrecognizable and entirely adult as she sipped at her wineglass and sat at the stool beside her. But she seemed right, somehow. Because he'd always imagined there was this part to her. This sophistication and adult sex appeal.
"Hi, Ariadne," he said, and knew beyond any doubt that had he been fifteen years younger, his voice would've cracked. Her eyes widened when she turned to see him and he basked in the warmth of the genuine smile with which she graced him.
"Well, hi, Arthur! How are you?" she asked, shifting in her stool to turn fully towards him. Yep. She had a nice shape that showed quite well in that dress. For a moment he wondered what she would look like without it.
"I'm all right. The job's going more smoothly than I ever would've thought." He ordered a glass of red wine to bolster his nerves. He was never very good in these situations. What would he give to have Eames's James Bond-esque flirtation skills right now. He was certain the man had already used them on Ariadne, and the thought made him want to order a second glass as soon as he got his first. He managed a small smile. "How are you?" He added, because it sounded innocent enough coming from him, "You look radiant, by the way."
Ariadne blushed. Arthur just hoped it would work in his favor. "Thank you. I'm doing well. Tonight is my one-year anniversary—"
Arthur's heart stopped. He swallowed hard. He couldn't have heard right. Not on this.
"—with my girlfriend, Aimée. We met first year of college, but didn't start dating until last year. No idea what took us so long." She shook her head, smiling that sweet, goofy smile he found so endearing.
A striking, lithe young woman with long dark hair, bright blue eyes and an olive complexion sidled up to the bar on Ariadne's other side and planted a quick kiss on Ariadne's neck. Arthur didn't miss the way Ariadne closed for a moment as the smile turned sultry, the way she tilted into the woman's lips.
"Aimée?" she said, "Remember when you said you never got to meet any of my co-workers?" she nodded towards Arthur, whose mouth had gone dry. "Well, now you finally get to meet one of them. This is Arthur."
The woman smiled, leaned forward and shook his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Arthur," she said in a sensual voice tinged with a pure Parisian accent. "Ariadne says she's not allowed to share work information, but that it's the best job she could ever have."
Arthur somehow mustered up a smile that strained the muscles in his face. "Well, Ariadne's the best co-worker anyone could have. She's a truly gifted architect."
Ariadne laughed at them both. "Okay, you two. Stop talking about me as though I'm not here," she tells them. "We need to head back, don't we, Aimée?" There was pure adoration in her expression. Adoration and lust that was only slightly fueled by wine. She slid her hand along the bar and twined it in Aimée's, and led the way towards the exit of the bar. "Have a good night, Arthur. I'll see you tomorrow," she said before the two of them left. Both women slid an arm each low around the other's waist without fear of judgment and with all the confidence of two people who know each other's bodies well. Everyone in the bar seeing them could tell what they were planning to do, and fairly soon.
And Arthur could think of nothing else to do but finish his glass within three gulps.
