A/N: Welcome. This is the first time I'm publishing a Sound of Music fanfiction. I've had this idea rolling around in my head for a while now. Before reading, I would like to warn you of a few things.
This first chapter is kind of trashy, kind of cringey, kind of spicy, but it sets up the rest of the story.
There aren't a lot of modern SOM fics out there, so this has been a bit of a challenge. It's a struggle to write these characters in a modern world while trying to keep them in character.
I'd also like to mention that this chapter leads to more questions than anything else. Characters may seem off or you may find yourself asking why they do what they do, but I promise I will explain everything later. Please give it a try. I promise that it will (hopefully) be worth it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even my sanity at this point.
"I cannot believe I let you drag me into this," Georg von Trapp muttered as the limousine pulled up to a well-lit street where people were lined up to get into one of Vienna's less popular nightclubs. He sighed as he watched the flashing neon sign light up the crowded street. This was certainly not a place he found himself often, or at all, for that matter.
"Oh, stop your complaining Georg. You could be dress shopping with Elsa right now. You should be thanking me," Max said from Georg's side. Georg made a noncommittal grunt and inwardly shuddered at the thought of sitting on an uncomfortable sofa in a boutique, scrolling through his phone while Elsa showed him a dozen new dresses she was deciding between. Perhaps Max had done him a favour. Dress shopping with Elsa would not have been an enjoyable evening. "Besides, I have a meeting with a potential prospect."
"Why anyone would want to meet here to do business is beyond me," Georg grumbled as he watched a group of young men shove at each other outside of the entrance to the club. It all seemed rather barbaric to Georg; waiting in line only to walk into a dingy building full of sweaty bodies gyrating against each other to ear splitting music. No, that image did not appeal to Georg in the slightest.
"Mixing business with pleasure is the best way to a successful business deal, my dear friend," Max said with a chuckle as he watched Georg's unamused eyes scan the crowds outside. He had hoped an outing would cheer his old friend up, as he had been sulking around Elsa's flat for days. However, Max noted that Georg's anxiety only increased the closer they had gotten to the club.
"Hm. I can see why you don't often have success with your business deals, Max," Georg said dryly, eyes still scanning the crowd. He heard Max scoff.
"I'll forgive you for that, as you are buying the first round," Max quipped, pulling open his door and stepping outside. Georg rolled his eyes. He had reluctantly agreed to this outing with his best friend after much begging on Max's part. Max had told him they would go somewhere with a semblance of class, just the two of them to chat over drinks. It would seem that his dear friend had stretched the truth a little.
Hesitating for a brief moment, Georg moved to open his door. He took a reluctant step into the dark night. It was quite a pleasant night for February. The air was brisk, but not uncomfortably so. For that, Georg was thankful.
"Tom, could you come back for us in about three hours?" Georg heard Max ask Elsa's driver. Georg huffed to himself. Three hours? What the hell was he going to do here for three hours? Georg shut the car door with a little more force than necessary, causing Max to shoot him a glare over the top of the vehicle.
"Thank you, Tom," Max said, tapping the top of the limousine with his hand. He stepped around the front of the car to stand with Georg.
"Stop moping. Just enjoy yourself," Max muttered, giving Georg a pat on his shoulder before beginning to cross the street. Georg shook his head and sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time since they had left Elsa's flat. I suppose there's no going back now, he thought bitterly.
He walked after Max, catching up in a few long strides as they made it to the entryway of the club. The pair walked through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke before assembling in the short line of bodies waiting to enter the club. The bouncer barely gave them a second look, only nodded to allow them inside.
If Georg thought the outside of the club looked undignified with its flashing signs and worn-down brick exterior, he was even more disappointed by the inside. The music, while not as loud as Georg feared it would be, vibrated through the floor. Neon strobe lights flashed all around the club in random patterns as sweaty bodies danced all around.
Georg felt severely overdressed in his suit and tie. He had not wished to change earlier, not quite knowing what to expect. He hadn't been to a club in nearly twenty years, and even then, his memories of clubs were rather dim. As he eyed the young men around him, he noticed they seemed to be dressed rather casually. It seemed that most of them were wearing a simple t shirt and jeans, while the women in the clubs were wearing, well, very little. Georg felt his eyes locating the nearest wall as he nearly witnessed a woman's breast pop out of her low-cut shirt.
"Shall we go to the bar?" Georg barely heard Max as he shouted in his ear. Georg nodded in reply. He would certainly need a drink to get through the next three hours.
Georg followed Max to the bar that was shaped as a giant circle in the middle of the club. They made their way to the section that was furthest away from the dace floor and Georg felt a bit of relief as he realized the music was a little quieter there. People were stuffing themselves along the counter to try and get an order in. Georg inwardly groaned. It seemed almost impossible to even get near the bar. Max, however, began to push through the crowds. He came upon a couple who were sitting on two stools at the bar, whispered something in their ear, and handed the man a bill. He motioned for Georg to come over.
"What the hell was that?" Georg asked, sitting upon one of the stools as Max sat on his right.
"Sometimes if you ask nicely, people will give you what you want," Max shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, "well, and, perhaps, some cash incentive."
Georg had to chuckle at that. Max was a rather extroverted personality, sometimes annoyingly so, but Georg did have to appreciate it at times.
"What can I get you gentlemen?" A burly man with a beard came up to the pair from behind the counter.
"He will have a whiskey, and I will take a martini please, dry. He will also take the bill," Max told the man, smirking in Georg's direction at the last bit. Georg shot him a glare but nodded at the gentleman behind the bar.
"Oh, I think I see Daniel over there! He's a brilliant cellist, Georg. I'm hoping to sign him tonight," Max exclaimed before hopping off his stool and walking into the crowd. He barely got ten feet before Georg lost him in the mass of people. He sighed. Here he was in a dark club all alone. He had to chuckle inwardly at the irony; surrounded by hundreds, Georg only felt completely isolated. Although, he pondered, it didn't matter where he was or who he was with, after Agathe's passing, he never felt anything but alone.
"Here's the whiskey," the bearded man said, pulling Georg from his increasingly dark thoughts. He smiled half heartedly as he took the whiskey and pulled out his wallet. He fingered out a few bills, enough to cover the drinks with a handsome tip included and handed them to the man. What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion for Georg.
As the bearded man handed Georg Max's martini, the man on Georg's left slammed Georg in the ribs with his elbow. Georg fumbled with the glass in his hand but his attempts to catch it were futile as it slipped from his hand and drenched a girl who had taken Max's spot to order a drink.
Georg looked at the woman, an apology ready on his lips, but was struck silent by her appearance. She stood staring at him, her mouth hung open in shock. Her white blouse, quite modest compared to what most of the women were wearing in the club, he thought, was now drenched through with the contents of the martini. She was quite pretty, in his opinion, pretty in a natural way. Her golden hair was short, her big eyes as blue as the sky, and she seemed to have a natural pink glow to her cheeks that he could just barely see in the dim lights.
Realizing that he was just blatantly staring at the woman he had just poured a drink on, he reached for some napkins on the bar and handed them to her.
"I'm very sorry. I, uh, did not mean to ruin your top," he stammered out like a young school boy getting reprimanded by a teacher. In truth, he did feel quite awful about the incident; however, there was something about the way this young woman was looking at him that made him feel almost shy.
"It was an accident, no reason to fret over it," her voice had a musical element to it that made Georg's ears perk up just by the sound of it. He watched the woman dab at the front of her blouse. It was a modest top with long sleeves and buttons on the top half. She had it buttoned so that it wasn't revealing but showed just enough skin to be tantalizing. However, upon watching her dab at the stain, Georg's mouth went dry. The martini had soaked enough of her shirt to make it practically see through. He glanced away quickly, feeling his face become warm. He had just drenched the girl in a martini, the last thing he should be doing is ogling her chest.
"Here, why don't you take this," he spoke as he shrugged out of his navy-blue suit jacket. He held it out for her to take, carefully keeping his eyes on her face. She quirked an eyebrow in confusion as she looked up to meet his eyes. "Uh, your shirt. I'm afraid it's, well, uh…"
He was saved from having to say the words as she glanced down at her chest and let out a gasp. She took the jacket from his hand and clutched it to her front. He noticed her cheeks turn a deeper hue of pink and found himself rather charmed by it.
"Thank you…" she trailed off realizing she didn't know what to call the man in front of her. Georg mentally slapped himself. He had forgotten his manners in the chaos of the incident.
"I'm Georg. And you are?" he asked. He watched a smile spread across her face as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Her smile was breathtaking, he noted.
"Maria," she replied. He smiled and extended his hand to her.
"It's nice to meet you Maria," he said. She took his hand with a gentle grasp and shook it, her eyes never leaving his. The small bit of contact sparked something deep in Georg's chest. He wasn't sure what it was or why a simple handshake gave him a tingling feeling, but he found himself curious to find out.
"I thought you might need another," Georg pulled his hand away and glanced over to the bartender who held out a fresh martini for him. Georg chuckled and muttered a thanks as he took the glass, taking extra caution as he set it down. He noticed Maria tugging at the sleeves of his jacket absentmindedly.
"Would you like this?" Georg asked, nodding toward the martini that sat between the two of them.
"Oh, that's very kind of you, but you really don't have to do that," she told him, bowing her head slightly in what seemed to be an act of shyness. Georg chuckled in a genuine way he hadn't found himself doing in a very long time.
"I spilt the first one on you, you might as well drink this one," he said, watching as her cheeks darkened, "besides, it seems my friend has abandoned me, and I could use the company."
"I don't drink very often," she said so quietly that Georg could barely hear her over the pounding music. He offered her a small smile, hoping that he wasn't scaring the poor girl.
"You don't have to," he said as he took a sip of his whiskey, "I just thought that it would be the least I could do."
"Thank you," she said, eyeing the martini. She looked rather unsure, but curious as she looked at it. Georg's eyes scanned her face. She did look rather young, perhaps not too much older than his eldest daughter. Early twenties maybe? Likely half his own age, Georg mentally chastised himself.
"I don't do this often," she spoke after a moment, catching his eyes with her own. He took another sip of his drink as he contemplated what this was. Having drinks thrown on her by old men at bars?
"What's that?" he asked.
"I don't often come to these sorts of places. My friend, Jane, insisted that I come out with her tonight, but I seem to have lost her in the crowd," she muttered, looking at the mass of dancing bodies as if trying to pick her friend out.
"I don't often come out to these sorts of places either. My friend, Max, dragged me out, against my will I must add. And now he's abandoned me, likely for the rest of the night," he told her, a polite smile poised on his face. She returned his smile, her fingers reaching out to touch the stem of the glass.
"Was this martini for Max?" she asked. He saw a spark of mischief in her eyes. He nodded his confirmation and watched as she lifted the glass to her lips, taking a healthy sip. Georg's smile fell as her face twisted and she began to cough violently. He reached his arm around her back and patted between her shoulder blades gently before rubbing small circles. She really must not drink often, he thought to himself.
"It takes some getting used to," Georg said once her coughing had subsided. She looked up at him with a weak smile as he continued his ministrations on her back. She brought the drink back to her lips, taking a much smaller sip.
"I don't mind it," she said after a moment of contemplating on the taste. He smiled at her before picking up his whiskey with his free hand and finishing the drink. He signaled the bartender for another. Realizing his arm was still around Maria, he slipped it slowly from around her, placing it awkwardly on the counter in from of him.
"So, what do you do?" he asked her, trying to distract himself from the odd sense of loss he felt in his chest after removing his arm from around her.
"I'm finishing up my teaching degree right now," she told him, not quite meeting his eyes but looking at his tie.
"So, you want to teach in Vienna?" he asked.
"I'd like to teach wherever I can really. I'd certainly like to travel a bit if I'm able to. I'd love to teach in France, but my French is not what you could call fluent." She giggled as she took another small sip of the drink and Georg was sure it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.
"Well, France is quite beautiful. Paris especially," he said, nodding to the bartender as another whiskey was placed in front of him.
"You've been to Paris?" she asked, eyes full of wonder. He chuckled at her unbridled sense of wonder.
"Why, yes. I've been quite a few times. I've done a lot of travelling," he replied, taking a sip of his beverage.
"Where else have you been?" Georg smiled as he began listing off the many cities had had found himself in over the years, adoring the way Maria's eyes would light up. It truly was endearing. She asked several questions about the different cities and countries, inquired about landmarks and the cultures. Georg found himself wanting to impress the young woman with his tales of adventure, and impressed she was.
Georg had lost track of the time. A couple hours, along with a few more drinks for each of them, had gone by quite quickly. He found that he was quite enjoying himself talking to this young lady. She was quite easy to talk to, and she certainly didn't hold back with her opinions and thoughts. She asked questions and inserted her own pieces. Though she had never left Austria, as he quickly found out, she was full of knowledge about places all around the world. More and more, Georg was finding himself charmed by Maria.
He also found himself noticing more things about her as the night went on – and as he drank more whiskey. The way her head tilted back slightly when she laughed. The ways her fingers would tap the stem of her glass when she was listening to him. The way she bit her bottom lip while she was thinking. It was all quickly driving him to madness. He found himself wanting to do nothing more that take this young woman in his arms and whisk her away, out of the dim club and, he thought with the more whiskey he drank, into his bed.
He tried to shake the thought from his head. That was not something he did. He did not meet young women at clubs and take them to his bed. He had always, except perhaps in his youth, found the idea repulsing. But Maria was just so damn radiant, even in the dim lights and loud music. He couldn't help but feel in awe of her beauty and natural grace. It certainly did not help his traitorous mind that she was still wrapped up in his jacket.
"Georg?" he heard her voice call him out of his reverie. He smiled and looked at her.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I think I'm going to take a walk outside. It's getting much too stuffy in here." Georg looked from her to the growing crowd of people on the dance floor. He knew that he should just find Max and get the hell away from the club. He knew that he should not follow her outside, lest his whiskey clouded mind allow him to do something he would later regret. He knew he should just tell her that it was nice to meet her and be done with it, but Georg did none of those things.
"Let me get the bill and then I'll come out with you, if that's okay," he offered. He reached into his pants pocket to pull out his wallet.
"Yes, it's okay. But you really don't have to pay for my drinks," she said, standing to reach into her purse. He put a hand out to stop her. While she hadn't kept up with his number of drinks, she had consumed more than a couple of martinis. Not that Georg was upset at all with buying her drinks. Her company was payment enough.
"Nonsense. I practically drowned you in martini earlier, it's the least I can do." He was rewarded by a brilliant smile from Maria. He motioned to one of the bartenders and handed him wad of bills before turning back to Maria.
"Shall we?" he asked. She flashed another quick smile at him before leading the way back towards the entrance of the club. Since his arrival, Georg noticed that more people had stuffed themselves into the club, making getting around rather difficult. Intoxicated people everywhere were stumbling around. The several whiskeys that he had consumed were not helping Georg in that regard either. The room felt as if it were spinning and he suddenly felt quite warm. Maria looked back and held her hand out. He took it gladly, letting himself revel in how soft her hand felt in his own.
They managed to get through the crowd and to the door. Upon stepping outside, Georg sighed in relief. The air was brisk and exactly what he needed to cool down. There were quite a few people standing around the front of the club. Most of them were smoking, some were just speaking, rather loudly, in small groups. Georg was rather surprised when Maria led him around the corner of the building.
"It's a nice night," she said looking up at the sky. He followed her gaze and looked up. It was a clear sky and he could faintly see the stars past the city lights.
"I agree with you there," he replied as they stopped walking. They stood in the middle of the sidewalk, facing each other, but both looking upwards at the sky. Georg smiled at the stars as he felt her hand still in his own.
"I've always loved looking at the stars. It reminds me that there's a whole universe out there to be explored," she said in a quiet voice. Georg removed his attention from the sky above to the woman in front of him. She really was a breath of fresh air, Georg thought. The street lights gave him a better look at Maria, and he took her distraction of the stars to really look at her.
She was infinitely more beautiful than the dim light had credited her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her smile was positively radiant, and her hair absolutely glowed. Her cheeks were quite flushed – he imagined it was a mix of the heat and alcohol, but part of him, the part infused in a whiskey haze, hoped some of the colour was due to him.
"What is it?" she asked as her eyes fell on his. He had been caught, but he couldn't find himself caring. He felt even more intoxicated just looking at her and breathing her in. In the club, all he could smell was sweat and alcohol. Outside, he could catch the scent of her perfume. It smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla, and Georg found himself captivated by the scent. He slowly brought the hand he was holding up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He noticed the hue of her cheeks darken ever so slightly and felt pride swell through his body.
"You're very beautiful," he said earnestly, lowering her hand to rest between them but not letting go.
"Thank you," she muttered, looking down at her feet. Georg suddenly wondered if she got complimented very often. She ought to, she was very beautiful. However, the way she shied away when he complimented her made him believe otherwise.
Feeling a sudden need to prove his words true – and feeling rather encouraged to do so by the whiskey – he raised his other hand to lift her chin so he could see her eyes. Her eyes widened at the action, but she made no move to pull away. He smiled to himself before leaning his face closer to hers, very slowly as though not to scare her. He felt her tense for a brief second before he came just within an inch of her lips. He could feel her breath from her parted lips graze his face. He watched her eyes flutter closed as she seemed to dreamily lean forward and close the remaining gap between them.
It was a tender sort of kiss at first, a kiss that Georg had not experienced in years. It made his heart swell in equal measures of joy and pain. He tried to repress his emotions, wanting solely to focus on the feel of Maria's lips. They were soft and warm against his own. It was a wonderful feeling. His hand dropped from her chin and wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He needed more contact. He moved his lips against hers, deepening the kiss at an excruciatingly slow pace. He had the feeling that Maria did not do this sort of thing often, and he would be damned if he was going to scare her away.
She responded hesitantly at first, barely moving her own lips against his. But as a couple moments passed, he felt her moving more firmly against him. He smiled against her lips, feeling almost dizzy off the mere taste of her. He turned her slowly and backed her against the brick wall of the building, letting go of her hand so he could place it next to her head on the cool brick, holding himself up. She had gasped against him as her back hit the wall, allowing him to gently inch his tongue into her mouth. He could detect the taste of alcohol and a subtle hint of something sweet like honey. He felt her stiffen at the contact and immediately backed off.
"I, uh, I'm sorry," he stammered, much like he did when he had spilt the drink on her. He cursed himself for letting his desire get away from him. What was he thinking? He just met her, at a nightclub of all places. He barely knew the girl and yet, he had her pushed up against the wall of a building like some sort of barbarian.
"It's fine, I just don't do this very often," she said shyly. She kept her gaze on his tie. Of course she didn't do this often. He should have known he was being too forward. Though he felt guilty, he couldn't bring himself to put more space between them, nor did she push him away.
"I don't either," he admitted, hoping to put her at ease. She looked back up ad his face, an eyebrow quirked. "I swear. In fact, this is the first time in several years I have done anything like this."
"It's quite nice," she spoke so softly he barely heard her, but his heart soared all the same. He contemplated his net move. Every logical neuron in his body told him to move away and tell her he needed to get going. However, a part of his mind that was hazy with alcohol and clouded with some sort of magnetic attraction to her kept him in place. One more kiss, he thought to himself. He brought his body closer, trapping her between himself and the wall.
"May I?" he asked, glancing down at her rosy lips. He saw a small smile spread across her face before she nodded gently. He moved slowly again, not wanting to rush her in any way. He brought his head down and placed his lips on hers. He felt her respond immediately this time, moving her lips firmly against his. It was clumsy, Georg noted, but he couldn't bring himself to care. She was warm and soft, and she made his head spin in a delightful way.
He realized that one more kiss was not going to be enough for him. She was too delicious on his lips, too warm against his chest. Every nerve in his body stood to attention as he held her. His hand slid off the wall and against the back of her neck, holding her more firmly to him. His fingers felt at the short strands at the nape of her neck. Her hair was incredibly soft.
Georg could think of nothing else than the woman against him. He couldn't feel the guilt he ought to at making out with a young woman he just met against the wall of a nightclub. He couldn't feel any sort of curiosity of where Max had been the last few hours. He couldn't feel anything but the soft lips and curves that moved against him.
Georg shuddered as he felt her hands slide up his chest and shoulders to move into his hair. His own hands moved to rest on her hips. Feeling the material of his jacket still snugly wrapped around her shot a new wave of desire through him. He licked at her bottom lip, asking silently for entrance. When she parted her lips for him, he slid his tongue between them, but this time, she did not stiffen. Her tongue met his and Georg could feel goosebumps prickling on his skin that had nothing to do with the cool air around them. In fact, he was feeling rather warm.
He backed off only when they both needed air, but he did not stop. His lips moved across her cheek, along her jaw, down her neck. He could not get enough of the taste of her skin. He could feel rather than hear her panting against him and he smiled against her neck. He hadn't felt this alive in years. He was met with a brief feeling of guilt deep in his chest at the desire that was flowing freely through him, but he quickly pushed it away. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember why that guilt was there.
His lips continued their path down her neck to where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down gently at the soft flesh that lay there and heard her gasp in his ear. He soothed the area with small strokes of his tongue. Her fingers tightened their grip in his hair and it only made Georg's head spin more. She just felt so damn good.
Needing to taste her lips against, he brought his face back to her own, kissing her more deeply than he had before. His fingers moved in a lazy pattern against her hips drawing out the sweetest little moans from Maria.
Her hands slid from his hair to grip his shoulders. He could feel her nails biting into his skin through his shirt and he couldn't help the groan that left his body. He wanted more, he needed more. He was burning up now, his body hot with need. In the back of his mind, a voice told him he needed to stop, but he couldn't. He hadn't burned so hot with desire for anyone in years.
He pushed further against her and felt her gasp into his mouth as he knew she could feel exactly what she was doing to him against her lower abdomen, yet she made no move to push him away or stop the dance of their tongues. His mind started reeling at the possibilities. Could he take her back to a hotel? Would she invite him back to her place? Or could he, and this was becoming more likely with the way her hands were gripping at his shirt, take her right there? He quickly dismissed that last thought, feeling guilty, although much less guilty that he ought to feel, that the idea even crossed his mind.
One of his hands tentatively moved from her hip to stroke her side under the jacket she still wore. Slowly his fingers moved up her waist, trailing a path against her ribs, until he grazed the side of her breast with the tips of his fingers. She shuddered against his body, her lips moving harder against his own. As slowly as he had moved up her side, he trailed his fingers across the front of her breast as she moaned at his touch. Just as his thumb grazing across her nipple, he heard a voice that made his blood run cold.
"Georg?!" Georg pulled his lips and hand away from Maria upon hearing Max's exclamation. Immediately, Georg felt the guilt settle in at the bottom of his stomach. He felt as is a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. What the hell had he been doing? What the hell had he been about to do?
"Uh, hello," he said sheepishly in Max's direction, his body still not making any moves to pull away from Maria's. Georg glanced back at the young woman who look absolutely horrified; whether the look was for Max's interruption, Georg's completely rakish behaviour, or her own abandon, Georg couldn't bring himself to ask.
"We need to leave," Max stated with a tone of authority Georg had never heard from him before. It was almost as if the roles were suddenly reversed, Georg thought. Usually he was the one taking on the authority role whenever Max would get himself into trouble.
"Erm, yes. Would you, uh, give me a moment, Max?" he asked as he glanced at Maria who looked utterly embarrassed. He watched Max take a deep breath. The man looked furious with rage clear in his eyes and Georg struggled to think of a time he had ever seen Max look so utterly enraged.
"Tom is across the street with the car. You have one minute before I come back here and drag you into that car," Max told him, staring daggers at Georg. He sighed before shooting an apologetic look at Maria, and with that he walked back around the corner of the building. Georg's chest was tight. He was embarrassed, horrified, ashamed of his actions. How had he lost his control so badly? He had been in the Navy for God's sake, he prided himself on his control.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to Maria, looking down at her small frame that was hunched against the wall. She couldn't meet his eyes, escalating the guilt that lay heavy in Georg's chest. The last thing he had wanted to do was scare her or put her at unease, but with his reckless actions, he had done just that. Gently, Maria pushed his chest and Georg forced his feet to move backwards. He put a good two feet between them and watched as she shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to him. He took it, holding it strategically in front of his midsection as he willed his body to calm down.
"It's fine," she said so quietly, he hadn't been sure she had actually spoke. Georg was unsure what to do next. He wanted to put the girl at ease, to tell her she was not in the wrong and that the fault fell solely on him, but his lips couldn't form the words. He was frozen in place. "You should probably go."
"Maria," he started, and his heart fell as she flinched when he spoke her name. He scrambled for words to help the situation in any possible way, but he came up short. "I meant what I said, I don't do this."
He watched her nod, but she still didn't meet his eyes.
"It doesn't matter now," she said, "I doubt we will ever meet again. By tomorrow, it will all be forgotten."
She spoke with a maturity he was sure was beyond her years. A part of him knew that he would never be able to forget this night for as long as he lived, but he just nodded, unable to do anything else. He could feel a pounding headache coming on. He knew part of it was due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed. The other part of it was the number of thoughts and feelings flowing through him that made his head spin.
He watched as she gave him, or rather his tie, one last look before walking away from him and disappearing into the night. He stood frozen for a moment as he tried to work through what had just happened. His actions appalled him. He had not acted in such a way in a very long time. It was not like him at all. He had to wonder, why had he acted that way? Was it purely that his mind had been fogged with whiskey? That had to be the only explanation, he reasoned with himself.
"Georg!" He heard Max's voice boom from across the street and his feet moved on their own accord, rather unsteadily, while his mind began to shut down, as it often did when he couldn't bring himself to think about something anymore.
Georg's body took him to the car and got in, waiting for what he assumed would be snide comments from Max.
"Tom, please drive us back to Elsa's flat. But take the long way if you could. I think the drive will do Georg some good," Max said politely to the driver. Georg vaguely heard the man respond before Max rolled the screen up between the front of the car and the back. For several moments, the ride was silent. Georg stared out the window and watched the buildings pass as he awaited Max's fury.
"Now would you like to tell me," he heard his friend's voice, "exactly what in the hell you think you were doing?"
Georg sighed, not bothering to turn and look at his friend. He didn't have an answer, he doubted that he ever would have an answer for his abominable behaviour that night.
"Well?" Max prodded impatiently. Georg finally turned to look at the man beside him. Max looked as if he had calmed himself down considerably. His eyes were no longer filled with rage, but rather increasing concern.
"I don't know, Max. I really don't know," Georg confessed, looking down to his suit jacket he held in his hands. He could still faintly smell Maria's perfume coming off it, which made his head throb even more.
"Well let me tell you how I saw it," Max began, "You were miserable to even come to this nightclub with me tonight. I thought it might be do you some good to get out of Elsa's flat, considering that you've done nothing but brood for the past week. I left you at the bar to meet with a potential business prospect, which was obviously a mistake on my part. I hoped that perhaps you might have a few drinks, maybe socialize a little, and maybe, just maybe, you would find yourself having a good time. Imagine my surprise when I come back to the bar, and the bartender tells me you left nearly half an hour ago with a young woman you had been fawning over for the entire evening."
"What do you want me to say, Max?" Georg snapped, looking the man straight in the eye. "I don't know what I was doing or how it happened."
"I'll tell you what happened. You drowned whatever internal crisis you've been having the last few days, or should I say the last five years, with alcohol and you found the closest woman you could find to sleep with. The least you could have done is go to a hotel or something. You were basically taking that girl against the wall for all to see." Max's voice was harsh as he reprimanded Georg, and he was glad to see the guilt clear in Georg's eyes. It served him right. "Really, Georg, I thought we were past this."
"It wasn't like that," Georg whispered, looking back down at his hand that gripped his jacket so hard, his knuckles were white.
"Really? Because I seem to remember you doing this very same thing not too long after Agathe died." Max's words struck Georg right in the chest and he let the pain wash over him like a scab that had been ripped off before the wound had healed.
Max continued, "You drink too much, pick up a pretty girl and take her to bed. And in the morning, you are so consumed with grief and guilt that you repeat it all over again the next night."
"I haven't done that in years," Georg murmured.
"Two years. And I had thought that it was because you had found Elsa. I wonder what she would have to say about all of this." Georg's head snapped up as he realized he hadn't thought of Elsa the entire night. The guilt in his chest kept increasing to the point that Georg was sure it would burst open.
"We aren't exactly official, Max," he said half heartedly, hoping it would make him feel better. It didn't.
"Well then, what would you call it? You've been seeing each other for two years, and I know for a fact that Elsa wants there to be more."
"You're right. I don't know why I left myself lose control like that," Georg said quietly, feeling remorse for the entire night. He let his head hang low as he looked at his shoes, not quite wanting to meet his friend's eyes. He felt Max's eyes on him and could sense the pity.
"Well," Max sighed, "I suppose we should just forget about it. You had a slip up. It happens. I see no need to tell Elsa, as long as it doesn't happen again."
Georg felt as if he were six years old again, getting reprimanded by his father for stealing cookies from the cookie jar before supper.
"Although I would check your phone if I were you. I asked Elsa if she had heard from you when I couldn't find you. She seemed rather concerned." With that, Max turned away to look out of the window, ending the conversation.
Georg dug into the pockets of his jacket, searching for his phone. He pulled out to find seven texts and two missed calls from Elsa, two texts from Max, and a text from his housekeeper back in Salzburg. He immediately opened up Elsa's messages.
Elsa: I hope you boys are having fun tonight. [Sent at 9:48 p.m.]
Elsa: I picked up the most beautiful dress. I can't wait for you to see it. [Sent at 10:32 p.m.]
Elsa: Max said you went missing. Are you alright? [Sent at 11:49 p.m.]
Elsa: Georg, I'm worried about you. [Sent at 12:02 a.m.]
Elsa: Please let me know you're okay. [Sent at 12:08 a.m.]
Elsa: Your phone is going straight to voicemail. You're scaring me. [Sent at 12:11 a.m.]
Elsa: Max says he's found you. I'm glad, but please don't scare me like that. The door is unlocked for you two. I'm off to bed, Goodnight. [Sent at 12:45 a.m.]
Georg felt his heart sink. He felt awful that he had worried Elsa, and he felt even worse that he hadn't even given a thought about her while he was with Maria. Georg and Elsa did not have an official title, both of them had believed it was easier that way when they had begun seeing each other. But still, he felt a sense of guilt for being with another woman, even if nothing had truly happened.
His head pounded and he closed his eyes, willing it to stop. He was sure he was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. He leaned his forehead against the window of the car door, letting it cool him down. Both Max and Maria had said the night was better off forgotten. He agreed wholeheartedly.
He had lost control in a moment of weakness, he was sure of it. He vowed to put it behind him. He vowed to forget the blue eyes and soft lips that had made him lose his resolve. He vowed to focus on his work and being better to Elsa. He vowed to keep himself in check from this night forward. He vowed to forget Maria and the desires that had taken over him. As he looked over at Max, who was staring out his own window, Georg vowed that he would never let himself get into a mess like this again. He would fall behind the mask that he put on so often, it had become a part of him. He would keep his resolve and his wit about him. He would forget it ever happened.
As he closed his eyes and breathed softly against the cool glass of the window, he pushed his brain to expel any thought of Maria. He would never see her again, like she said. If he never saw her again, it wouldn't be too hard to forget about the incident, right?
As Georg began to feel sleep take over his body, he was unaware that he was very wrong about two things:
Somethings are not that easy to forget; and
He had not seen the last of the girl who had broken his resolve.
A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter of my trash baby. It was pretty Georg heavy, but I felt that this scene through his perspective would be important to upcoming chapters. I have the next few chapters pretty well planned out so I should update it soon.
If you feel up to it, let me know if you loved it or hated it. I'm honestly not too sure how people are going to feel about this. I'm sorry if I've caused any offense.