Twinkle, twinkle my little star
I don't own WC.
French Riviera. A summer night. Deserted beach. Two shadows, shyly outlined by moon -beams…
Whiter than an iceberg shirt captivated the moon. Carelessly thrown on the shoulder and a fedora finished the quickly scratched with black lead figure of a young man.
A bouquet of scarlet flowers variegated a simple dress. Black hair was a shawl of a slim back. Hesitant gait revealed the number of wine glasses.
I'm a mermaid. – The girl shouted. Trim shoes were lying alone in the sand. Grit tickled her barefoot legs. By every step cool water slid upwards, hardly soaking up a sheer woven. Has the ocean seen more cheerful mermaid than Kate Moreau?
A mermaid that would never turn into foam. – His voice was too near to her ear. His hands turned her. The left was around the slender waist, the right interlaced fingers with hers. It was Neal Caffrey, hugging his beloved and frozen in anticipation for music beginning to play. Their violinists were the soft ripples. Their public were the stars. The moon was shimmering as a luster in a ballroom.
The hum of a popular dance melody spread out as an endless trail on the beach. Waltz on the sand, near the ocean. Waltz of two butterflies. Waltz deserving the applause of the English royal court.
Kate was relaxing in his hands. Dance steps didn't matter. The legs interweaved, the world spanned and in a moment they were on the ground.
Her hands felt the grit in his wavy hair.
A fallin' star … right here – Neal whispered.
Kate unwittingly raised eyes to the sky – a canvas where someone had emptied a tubule of paint with the darkest shade of blue and had powdered with star dust. A touch of warm lips on the neck made her look down. She dived into radically different blue – crystal, bright, live as a flamenco dancer and catchy as Aurora Borealis.
Neal's eyes met hers – slightly blear by the wine, sapphire blue, laughing…
Warm breeze was going to tell in long time to the sailors about the following sweet as a liqueur kiss.
Neal was talking about constellations, mythical gods and centaurs. Kate was listening while Dionysius helpfully drew stars nearer, changing them into fireballs…
The next tide was going to tuck away a pair of red high-heel shoes and a fedora.
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