Hello my faithful readers and new readers alike. Sorry for the long delay in updating. I have been working on chapter 2 and 3 simultaneously. So 3 should be up with much quicker speed than two. I'm glad you enjoyed my first chapter. Now here is chapter 2 for your enjoyment. I myself love long chapters and I'm sure you guys do too.
Enjoy
Chapter 2
Bad ideas
The odd couple managed to make it back to their home in one piece. Still half naked and hairy, Booker decided to head over to the couch. Elizabeth was still slightly confused from the whole fiasco. She couldn't understand how he had grown it so quickly. With every glace at Booker, she would immediately see Comstock instead of her beloved. She couldn't bear to look at him due to memories of Comstock's horrible actions. Not just his horrible actions but every part of him she loathed. With a noticeable frown on her face, she paced over to the mess that she had created to tidy things. Booker had noticed the mess before her and had already gotten up from the couch to attend to the scattered possessions. She took a deep breath and bent over to pick up her favorite vase. She was glad that Booker caught it. She wanted to thank him for saving her prized vase and turned to him to speak. "Booker, I..." As soon as she laid eyes on him, she saw Comstock again and her feelings of toward the dead prophet became apparent. Her face was filled with disgust when the beard invaded her vision. She let out a frustrated groan and with a grimace she spoke, "Okay, you have got to get rid of that beard this instant." Booker picked up the books and placed them neatly into the bookcase and responded in agreement. He turned to Elizabeth to comfort her and to apologize for his shenanigans. Elizabeth observed her vase to inspect for any damage. It was her favorite not because it was expensive. It was actually inexpensive. It was her favorite because it came with a set of beautiful flowers; Booker's first gift of flowers to her. It had deep sentimental value and she was glad it did not break. She was so fueled with adrenaline that she hadn't realized her actions at the time. The warm touch of Booker's hand on her back comforted her. With a slight smile, she looked over to him but instantly lost any and all types of affection at that moment and groaned again with frustration. She swiftly spun and walked toward the kitchen, almost stomping her way there. "Argh! I can't even look at you. Your beard. Make it go away." Booker chuckled at her comment and made his way to the dining room mirror. It was large enough to reflect his entire body. Elizabeth had exquisite taste and it was quite expensive.
"Elizabeth. C'mon it's not that bad," he said as he approached the mirror.
"Booker!"
"Yeah darling?"
"I'm frustrated!"
"No, you're pregnant," he wittily replied
"Argh!"
With a quick look, he was startled to see the man in the mirror. "Woah! Jeeze I look exactly like the guy." He leaned in closer to observe his beard. I can't believe that damn thing actually worked. I don't even recognize me anymore. I'm the spitting image of Comstock! Well, his beard was grey but still. I suppose I am the ol' coot, just younger. Booker decided to have a little fun with his new disguise. Well, I can get a kick out this. I think this plan is working perfectly. With a smirk, he stiffened his body, cleared his throat, and started to pet his bushy beard. He began to mimic the prophet in posture and stance. Mockingly, he spoke out loudly, "The seed of the prophet! Shall sit the throne! And…"
"Booker! Don't even think about finishing that sentence!" Elizabeth's rebuttal could be heard from the kitchen. Booker laughed and decided to play along just a bit more. He was enjoying provoking the angry Elizabeth. He announced again with the same tone as Comstock, "Oh but my sweet child, that is where you're wrong." Booker smiled at his reflection. He couldn't believe the fun he was having while looking like his past enemy. He could hear Elizabeth storming out of the kitchen to go upstairs. He chuckled at her response. She's probably trying to get away from me. He spoke even louder this time around for he knew she was on her way upstairs. He wanted to make sure she heard Comstock's voice from up there. "The prophecy has been foretold! That you Elizabeth, shall be my heir. That you shall take over this house and lead all of Paris into prosperity!" Well, I think I'll just keep this up. She'll be where I want her soon enough. "The Lord shaves! But I'm just a prophet… So I don't have to. Amen!" Just as he finished his speech he heard Elizabeth's oddly sweetened voice from behind him. He was too occupied with being silly that he hadn't realized her presence or heard her approach him.
"Mon chéri amour…" Elizabeth called with a sly tone. Booker laughed as he turned around to Elizabeth only to be greeted with her blowing him a bewitched kiss. It wasn't unusual for her to be seductive but quite unusual during this time of day. What was even more strange was how he instantly started to feel and think differently. He had noticed a green cloud that exuded for her hand when she blew him a kiss but seemed to stop caring seconds after. Woah, everything's green… he thought as she stared at her. His vision started slowly fuzz and haze with a green cloud. His peripherals were murky with green. Booker started to smile and talk politely to her. This is… strange…
"Yes my sweet?" He asked in a very polite tone.
"Darling, would you please go and shave off your beard?" Elizabeth asked sensually.
"Of course. Anything for you sweetie," he said as he happily made his way upstairs. What the hell am I doing? Why am I doing what I don't want to do?
Booker entered into his bedroom's bathroom and cheerfully reached for the razor to begin shaving his beard. I can't move my body. Damn it, I reached for the wrong razor. That's the one I use for… Scrape after scrape, his dark colored beard tumbled off his jaw. He unwillingly finished shaving and started to groom himself along with trimming his hair with scissors. His hair was long; it was past his ear. He had truly looked homeless. It was definitely true love since Elizabeth still kissed that mountain man face. I don't understand how I'm doing this. This doesn't make sense. Why is my body glowing green? With some snips and cuts, his hair started to look very proper and sexy, almost futuristic similar to someone by the name of Macklemore.
After several minutes had passed Booker's prophet appearance transformed into a dashing young gentleman. Freshly shaved and trimmed, he looked very attractive and much younger. He parted his short dark hair and smiled. I don't look half bad. I never knew I could cut my own hair. It must be whatever Elizabeth did to me. It had been a very long time since he had put forth effort to his appearance. Somehow any strand of grey hair he remembered seeing had returned to its original color. With no wrinkles visible either, he looked 10 years younger. Luteces mentioned something about tears messing with the body. Comstock somehow aged but I suppose jumping through that last tear knocked me back 10 years. Good for me. 38 looking 28. I can live with that. Either that or I'm going crazy. Neither had Elizabeth noticed the effect the tear had on Booker, even after a month has passed. His crusty lack of care for his looks masked his 28 year old charming face. Booker's green glow slowly dissipated as he regained control of his body again. Hm, I'm me again. What the hell was that all about? He shook off the thought and washed his face while Elizabeth was downstairs preparing Le Petit Déjeuner.
She couldn't overcome laying eyes on someone that looked exactly like Comstock again. She had forgotten that Booker was Comstock, just younger. The first events of the weekend were too much for her preference. She'd had hope it'd be more peaceful and quieter. Unpleasant images of Columbia's Comstock returned to her mind, causing her to lose focus. She laid down the knife that she was cutting fruit with and shut her eyes. She never surpassed the pain and misery he caused her, never fully healed from it. Having the love of her life around sure did help but she needed more time before she can look at him with a beard. Comstock… I'm glad he's gone for good. I just… I just can't believe Booker will eventually look like him. He's 38 and will soon turn 39. She dreaded that truth and feared the day when Booker will finally reach his counterpart's appearance. Elizabeth managed her emotions and returned to preparing food. With a sigh and a saddened frown, she started washing her hands. Afterward, she placed the plates and food on the fancy dining room table. It was beautifully decorated with flowers and doilies. She had made sure that everything was in place, readying them for a small meal.
Booker's footsteps could be heard as he approached the kitchen. "Hey there," she said as she turned to look at Booker. The second her eyes caught Booker's incredibly attractive appearance, she gasped and widened her eyes. It startled her as she couldn't believe how handsome he looked. She stood in silence with her mouth opened but no words exited. "Hi Liz," he said as he smiled, approaching her. Elizabeth's eyes studied his sharp appearance as he drew near. He looks… so young and incredibly handsome. How did he… The memory of when they first met replayed in her mind. The emotions she felt when she first saw him flushed through her body as she began to inhale deeply. "You okay?" he asked. "Y-Yes, I'm okay," she answered nervously. Booker lovingly placed his hand on her chin and asked, "So does this look better?" The light beaming from the window highlighted his wild green eyes. She couldn't shift her gaze from his emerald magnificence no matter how matter how much she tried. She managed a weak smile as she nodded in his presence. He had effortlessly swept her off her feet. Booker was so breathtaking that her heart started to race, pumping her body full of blood. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and exhaled. It felt good to her, good and pleasurable. She felt love and care overshadow her. It was a welcoming feeling and was received well. He gave her a warm smile and walked to the table. Elizabeth laid her hand on her heart as she stood there staring at her lover. She excused herself and headed upstairs to change.
He is so alluring... my god… She thought as she slipped off her night gown. Jumping back and forth from tears must have altered his body. He looks so much younger. I suppose I never noticed it until today. So many odd events occurred this weekend. I don't know what to make of it all. I hope this is the last of it. I'm glad I kept that Possession vigor. I knew it would be handy in a pinch. As she pulled her panties off, she realized she was slightly damp. Elizabeth paused and reached her hand down to feel just how much. I-I didn't even know I was… Well I suppose it's been a while since he's made love to me. It's a little odd now that I think of it. My body wants him. I'm attracted to my father but I don't mind at all. I actually really like it. Hmm, I wonder… Out of curiosity, she slowly led her finger to down past her belly. The moment she felt her finger glide along her clitoris, a moaned quietly seeped from her mouth. Her body curved from the quick but intense feeling. Oh my… Maybe I should… Her lips opened to withdraw air and with strong desire, she nibbled her bottom lip as she started to fantasize about Booker. She closed her eyes and decided food could wait a little longer. Her finger started to slowly circulate her clit, increasing her delight. She was beginning to get carried away with her self-pleasuring actions and had forgotten Booker has been waiting for her downstairs. Elizabeth was completely wet now. She had always been the type of woman to moisten at any hint of Booker's love. She felt a small pulsating rhythm from below as she realized she was beginning to throb. Another moan escaped her lips as she swayed her finger. Right then and there, she wanted him. She wanted him to make passionate love to her. The craving of his powerful love grew with each heartbeat.
"Elizabeth?" Booker faintly called from downstairs. He had been waiting to eat and never ate without her.
His voice abruptly reminded her that he was waiting for her. I'm being a little naughty, she thought as she deviously smiled. "I'm coming," she shouted back. She looked at the bottle of Possession and wondered if she should use it again but this time for sex. With a tiny bit of pondering she tossed her thought out and decided not to. She wanted him to love her himself. Elizabeth wanted it to be real, not fake. Henceforth, she continued getting dressed and headed downstairs and saved her needs for a later time.
Booker glanced over at his well dressed lady and smiled in delight. She always managed to stay beautiful now matter what. A proper gal with proper mannerism and upkeep, something he also appreciated in her. Elizabeth's emotions however were quite more exotic than Booker's at the moment. She was still hot and wanted eroticism rather than fruits and a croissant. Her body still carried desire for his love but she disregarded her fantasies and wants and proceeded to the table. As they enjoyed their food, Elizabeth could not help but sexualize Booker in her mind as she watched him eat. Her mind flooded with lustful thoughts. She remembered how much of a sexual deviant she was. Seeing Booker's tongue brought fantasized visions of her lying on the bed while he swirled his tongue, exciting her in ways long forgotten. The hot flashes of images caused a half choke as she drank her tea. She quietly coughed as she tried not to spill her drink. "You alright there?" He asked.
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied as she feministically coughed. He is at times dull but not when it came to his daughter. He picked up on her thoughts quickly. He knew of her gaze but kept his comments buried.
"Liz, I know what you're thinking."
Caught by surprise, she played innocence, "I'm sorry, the tea was too hot for me." Their tea was lukewarm; a blatant and obvious lie. Booker raised a brow and looked a different direction slightly shaking his head from her fibbing. She was never a good liar and her silliness made Booker chuckle. It was adorable to him how much of a terrible liar she was.
She offered to go out on a peaceful tour around Paris. Remaining in the house was too much for her. Elizabeth would eventually molest Booker if they stayed there any longer. Possession slowly became a good idea to her despite her disregard for it minutes ago. Her sex kettle was steaming and she needed out immediately before she pounced him. He agreed, knowing too what would happen if they stayed. He finished his croissant and stood up to find his trench coat. There wasn't much to eat so he finished quickly. She followed suit soon after she finished.
Paris magnificently promoted beauty regardless of time and place. Noontime was particularly bright and livelier than the rest of the remaining hours. The sun casted no shadows since it was directly overhead. As they walked hand in hand enjoying the view of Paris, children ran about laughing and giggling. Fond thoughts of having a family together with Booker peacefully brought a warm smile to Elizabeth. She was ready to settle down and start new beginnings. The joyous and cheerfulness of children reminded her of their child. With one hand in Booker's and the other hand on her belly, she glanced at the love of her life and gleamed. She couldn't be any happier. They made their way over a bridge and alongside the Siene River. Their attention turned to Taillevent: an upscale restaurant for lunch and dinner. It was a perfect spot for a couple. It so happened that day Taillevent was hosting an all-day ball. They'd passed by just in time. Elizabeth happily leaned on Booker's arm as they walked. "Booker look. I think I see dancing." There were plenty of people inside as the windows revealed. As they passed the patio/entrance, there sat one of Booker's colleagues; a nice young gentleman around the age of Elizabeth whom was also a private detective and an artist. He worked with Booker on one or more occasions. He hadn't noticed Booker or Elizabeth walking by. He was writing on his notepad. They planned on walking a longer distance but Booker instead made a sudden choice to greet him. A new plan was seeded the moment Booker saw him.
"Well I'll be. Charles Trénet," Booker smirked mischievously as he greeted him. The young gentleman looked up to see Booker with Elizabeth. Instantly he rose to his feet to shake hands. He was an enthusiastic gentleman that was glad to see Booker. He looked up to him for Booker was the best private detective in all of France.
"Booker DeWitt! We meet again. It's good seeing a familiar face around. What brings you to this side of the Siene River? And to a Taillevent no less?"
"Just on a walk. Charles I want you to meet someone," Booker proudly announced. "This here's Elizabeth."
"Hi there!" Elizabeth cheerfully greeted. "My name's Elizabeth. I'm his…"
Booker caught wind of the direction she was taking her introduction and quickly interrupted, "Daughter! Yeah, she's my daughter… yes…"
Elizabeth furrowed her brows and slowly turned her gaze toward him. Booker kept his focus forward and didn't bother to look at her. It had caught her off completely off guard since they had always introduced themselves as an engaged couple. Her expression mimicked that of hearing something outrageous. She squinted and hung her jaw in awkward disbelief.
The moment Charles laid eyes on Elizabeth, he was in awe. She was breathtaking to young lad. He couldn't believe how gorgeously stunning she was. Her dress flowed beautifully in the wind along with her long dark brown hair. Her crystal blue eyes lit a light in his heart. He was a sucker for blue eyes. Her petite frame matched his definition of a perfect woman. Elizabeth was indeed the most beautiful woman in all of Paris. Charles's face brightened when he heard "daughter" rather than fiancé or wife. This meant an opportunity to court the young woman and maybe one day betroth her. He wanted to meet her and was excited for this new opportunity. Being that it was Booker's daughter rather than a significant other as he presumed meant he could finally meet a lady through a trusted friend, and whom better yet than Booker's daughter.
"Excuse me, where are my manners. My name is Charles, Charles Trénet," he charmingly greeted. Elizabeth's eyes were still fixated on Booker. She had given him the death stare. If lasers shot from her eyes, Booker would have two seared holes in skull. Booker knew what she was thinking. The smirk he wore remained.
"Madam?" Charles said as he tried her attention. Elizabeth reluctantly turned her head to the gentlemen. Her mood shifted to a mixture of confusion and annoyance. She lifted her hand for a shake. Her eyes weren't very welcoming to Charles and her pursed lips also hinted an unsolicited greeting. Charles hadn't noticed her unwelcoming expression. Instead of a shake, he bent down and kissed her hand like a smooth criminal. Elizabeth almost winced from the action as her eyes squinted with skepticism. She might as well scolded him for Booker could hardly tell the difference from what she expressed and a glare.
"Tis a pleasure to meet you," he said as he smiled through his words.
"…Likewise," Elizabeth unfavorably replied.
Booker pulled out a lighter to light his cigarette, not paying any mind to Elizabeth. She started to pull her chair but the dashing young man quickly rushed over to pull her chair for her. He was quite smooth and charming; more than Booker was. With empty gratitude, she replied, "thank you." Booker shifted his stare from the fire that he cupped with his hand to Charles. He hopped his brows in acknowledgement of his nobleness. Elizabeth sat down and crossed her legs with slight attitude.
Booker and Charles finally sat down at the fancy decorated table. It was a good day. An odd day for the DeWitts but a good day nonetheless. Charles broke the silence and complimented his partner, "Booker, you look younger. I almost didn't recognize you. How did ya do it?"
"Science," he uttered as he nodded his head.
"Science? Well matters have surely progress far. I'm just a junior investigator and an artist, but of course only for spare time. Science however has never been my forte. I must have overlooked our advances in that field."
"Hm," he mumbled as he flicked his cigarette. It was the only reply Booker could utter; his signature grunt whenever he didn't feel like talking. He actually didn't want to have a chat with anyone and preferred to just hold his beloved. But he had a plan; a plan born out of mischievousness. Elizabeth was a little too troubled to hold any conversations, just like Booker. She wanted to ask Booker why he said what he said. She wanted to ask him about everything for that matter; why has he been acting strange and unusual. Obviously the scene did not fit the proper scenario. She decided to ask him everything later that night.
A waiter approached with questions of their order. Booker generously paid for Charles and ordered wine for Elizabeth, Charles, and himself. His choice of fancy wine was Constantino's Colheita 1904 imported from Portugul. It was his offer for Charles. It was a very nice gesture for the wine was extremely expensive. That moment made him feel proud since he was no longer in debt but a well-off man. Trénet sincerely thanked him for his great kindness and Booker nodded his head. "Think nothing of it," Booker said.
"So how are things on your end DeWitt? I hear you're getting requests left and right. You must be doing fantastic."
"Speak for yourself. I heard you're doing well Trénet."
"I've got my hands full here. Don't know how you seem manage with so many jobs lined up."
"Practice," Booker grunted.
"We're the only two American investigators here in Paris," chuckled Charles as he looked over to the Elizabeth.
"A little competition never hurt nobody," Booker added.
"So, miss Elizabeth. I did not know that you are Booker's daughter. I must say, you are quite beautiful. Someone of your stature and simply gorgeous appearance must be married to a lucky man. If I may ask, who is this fine gentleman?" He asked, advancing on Elizabeth.
"I'm not married," Elizabeth responded coldly. She had absolutely no interest in Charles. Many men approached her at during her six year stay in Paris. They all received the same due: cold rejection. To his surprise, he decided to lay his question on the table. "I don't mean to pry but… do you have a significant other?"
Both Booker and Elizabeth spoke out simultaneously.
"No", "Yes"
"No" came from Booker and "yes" from Elizabeth. They glanced at each other for a second while Booker turned away to chuckle and inhale his cigarette. Elizabeth stared at him, confused. The situation immediately became awkward.
"I… beg your pardon?" Charles asked through his confusion.
"No, she doesn't have one," Booker reiterated as he flicked his cigarette again. Elizabeth couldn't process what she had just heard. She didn't know whether to be sad or not but she was certainly confused. She wanted to correct him but remembered that he was also her father and respected what he said.
A beautiful love song echoed throughout and Charles had taken notice. "This is certainly a wondrous song. One of the best in our lifetime." Being forward and outgoing, he decided this would be a great opportunity to dance with Elizabeth. He was respectful and always hesitated impeding. With delight and enthusiasm he looked over to Booker to ask for permission. "Mr. DeWitt, if I may…" However Booker already knew what he was going to ask and nodded before the young gentleman finished his question. Elizabeth swung her eyes toward Booker, wondering why he would let anyone else dance with her. She never desired to dance with anyone other than her lover and hasn't ever. Booker was literally her first in everything. She wanted him to say no and wished that he would quickly retract his answer. Dancing with another man aside from Booker made her stomach turn. Charles stood to his feet and offered his hand to the beautiful young lady. "Miss, would you kindly share a dance with me?" He asked sincerely.
"It'd probably be best if we don't. It's a little odd to dance at this time of day," she rejected apathetically. Without looking at either one of them, Booker spoke with fatherly tone, "Elizabeth. You should dance with the young man. Doesn't hurt to give it a try." He exhaled and stared forward into the distance. Why is he being so unusual to me? I don't understand what's going on, Elizabeth thought. Confused she whispered his name but he didn't offer an answer, only a quick glance from the corner of his eye. She respected his wish and agreed to dance. Booker rarely ever assumed his fatherly role but she heeded his words when he did. This was the only other occasion. Elizabeth was a good daughter and listened. She hesitantly took his hand and stood to her feet. Skeptical and concerned, she walked away only turning her gaze from Booker when it was necessary. Charles led her inside where people danced and offered to lead. Elizabeth however was displeased and decided to take the lead instead, which was unusual to Charles. They began their slow dance to the love song alongside everyone else. She couldn't bear to look Charles in the eyes but forced her gaze for the sake of decency and mannerism. She didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were. Charles smiled and couldn't believe he was dancing with such a beautiful woman. He had never laid eyes on someone as gorgeous as her, let alone dance with her. "Elizabeth, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he said as they danced. "Thank you" she replied emptily as she looked away to Booker. She wished it was him that was leading her in a dance. Elizabeth saw that he was staring off into the sky and wondered what was going on that mind of his.
Booker sat there, thinking. With a last puff of his cigarette he crushed the cherry beneath this shoe and exhaled. This might actually work. If I could just get Elizabeth to take liking of him then I can make things go far. Liz… You need your own family and it's time to start. It doesn't sit right with me being our child's father and your father. I love you but I want to do by what's right. 20 years ago, I sold you. I don't want to make any more mistakes or regrets in my life. You've grown. I'm proud of you. Now it's your time to find a good man. I can see he's already interested. I know you love me Elizabeth but maybe it's best that we do things right.
The thought of Charles becoming her lover made him cringe. Images of Charles loving her instead of him dripped anger to his fists as he balled them. He didn't know what's worse, letting his daughter and lover go to another man or living with the burden of right and wrong. Thinking of it brought a complete and utter frown of contempt. The waiter returned with the wine and placed them on the table. With disdain Booker reached for his glass and immediately drank the spirit, hoping to drown the awful thoughts. It was unbelievably smooth and well worth the price. Its flavor tinged his taste buds and cooled his throat as he swallowed. His train of thought was broken by the exquisite wine. It was so exceptionally delicious; Booker called to the waiter as he walked away and requested the price of the bottle and a refill. The waiter gladly returned to refill his drink.
Suddenly loud gasps and murmuring was heard from inside. Seconds later Elizabeth stormed through the entrance wearing a disgusted and angry expression. Charles urgently followed directly behind her, apologizing for something. Booker watched curiously as she stopped beside him and turned to apprehend Charles. The angry young lady scorned him without discretion.
"Don't touch me like that! And I am not interested."
"Elizabeth, wait. I…"
"Just stay away," she said as she spun around to walk away.
It became entertainment to Booker as he watched and began drinking his second glass. Oh this was even better second time around. Booker exhaled from the exotic burn of the wine. Hm, watching this is great with a drink, he thought as he chuckled. Charles reached out his hand to her shoulder to try to improve the situation. It horribly backfired as the notion angered her further. "Get away from me!" she hissed as she slapped him across his face. The crowd from inside gasped again from the unexpected crudeness as they watched. Booker's brows raised in shock as he had just witnessed his colleague get smacked. Well I didn't see that coming, Booker thought as he sipped his wine.
"Book-Father, we're leaving," Elizabeth demanded as she grabbed his hand, almost causing him to spill his expensive wine.
"Elizabeth wait. You still have your glass to drink. This is great wine."
"Ugh! Wine can wait another day!" She groaned.
"Sorry pal. Whatever you did, looks like you deserved it."
Elizabeth sped with Booker toward home.
"Liz, slow down. What did he do back there?"
"That man is a creep. He kept insisting that I go out on a date with him even after I told him I wasn't interested. Then he touched waist, so I shoved him."
"And so you slapped him for trying to apologize…"
"Booker, I'm not interested in any man or will I ever be. I haven't been when I lived here and I won't now." Elizabeth turned to hug Booker and sighed. "There's only one person for me and he's right here in my arms." Booker couldn't help but hold her and smile. The precious love he felt warmed his heart and gladdened his soul, a reminder that she loved him and only him. "No one could ever take your spot," she breathed as she closed her eyes. Her love was of great value to him but so was his morality. Could it be his own selfishness? He couldn't tell.
Elizabeth held his hand as they walked along the glimmering river. There were plenty of things to see and places to walk but it was about nap time for Elizabeth. Her pregnancy symptoms began to take effect and were more and more noticeable with each passing week. She expressed her drowsiness during their walk and asked if they could head home. One high strung event after another caused her to lose her zen. With a nod of agreement, they changed course for home. Interestingly enough they passed by Lonnie's Confections and Souvenirs. The store instantly reminded him of the same he took home. He had a bone to pick with the shopkeeper. Booker instructed her to go home before him because of work related business he had to attend to. She reluctantly agreed. With a quick kiss on the lips and a soft gesture, "I love you," she parted ways with him.
Booker stepped into the shop but nobody was in sight. "Hey, anybody here?" Booker asked with a firm voice. Then the familiar stature of the mysterious man appeared from the back of the shop to greet Booker.
"I've been expecting you," the shopkeeper began.
"Hey that bottle of whatever you gave me last night; turned me into Comstock!"
"And who might that be?"
"Forget it. It made me… hairy."
"It did its job did it not?"
With annoyance, Booker tried to rebuttal, "Yeah but I didn't like the results."
The shopkeeper warmly smiled at Booker and walked over to one of his cabinets.
"My friend, sometimes in life we have what we want but we don't always want what we have."
"…what?" Booker retorted. His statement came as a riddle to him.
"You will know what I am talking about soon enough," the clerk replied. "I see that you have the same problem and is in need of another solution. This one will do the trick."
"Here try this sample; much more powerful. It can make anyone fall head over heels in love. Just a drop in a drink, and Voila! Nobody can resist the charms."
Booker rolled his eyes "Look, I don't want another sample and I told you. We're not friends."
The shopkeeper placed a minuscule vial on the counter and walked to the doorway of the backroom. "Something tells me you will," he said with a sly tone as he disappeared into the darkness.
"Hey I wasn't done talking to you," Booker announced but there was no answer from the backroom. Suspiciously, he walked over to the conspicuous vial and grabbed it with intention of keen observation. Again like the previous bottle, this one was clear with no labels and was boring to look at. Booker pursed his lips and furrowed his brows with distrust in the gentleman. Nevertheless, he pocketed the vial and headed back home.
As he opened the door to the house Elizabeth greeted him as she laid on the couch reading her book. She had slipped into very suggestive lingerie. A beautifully sheer short black gown adorned with lace around its edges. She had a plan. She was going to make him love her that day. With little acknowledgement of her, he walked into the restroom and stared at the man in the mirror: handsome, strong, gritty, loving, caring, and sinful. The last word was muttered with contempt as he looked into his reflection. He inspected his wild green eyes but couldn't figure out what she saw in him, why she loved him so much. His last definition: sinful, brought him a tinge of shame. The thoughts of morality returned full circle and there he was, contemplating again. I'm losing my mind. He thought as he pulled out the vial. Maybe it's because I don't love her enough.
"Are you okay in there?" Elizabeth said right on cue
"I'm fine," he replied.
He popped open the cork to catch a whiff of its fragrance. To his surprise, odorless yet again. One drop in a drink huh? Don't know how that will work. Maybe if I just drink it instead. Shouldn't hurt. He wondered if he should ingest the entire vile. It was no longer than a pack of cigarettes. And no thicker than a cigar.
"Booker?"
"Just a minute," he called out. Every time I'm in the restroom she does this.
"What are you doing in there?"
Booker groaned and stuck the cork back in the vial and shoved it back into his pocket and exited the restroom. "Elizabeth, there are no tears in there. I'm not going to go to another universe," Booker retorted as he walked to the dining room table and tossed the vial on it. She quietly giggled as she closed her book, "If you did, I'd find you again." Booker just then noticed her outfit and appeal. It was very alluring. He watched as she placed her book down then slowly approached him seductively. With a devious smile and a sultry walk she crept closer. "Elizabeth, I thought you were tired," Booker said softly. He was not in the mood for anything sexual. Still, a half smile of appreciation appeared regardless as he watched her hips sway in a womanly fashion. Her thighs rhythmically swinging one in front of another, drawing Booker's attention. With her hand she slowly slid her hand up her waist to cup her breast. His eyes locked on her hand as she gently squeezed. Sensually, she leaned on his chest as she traced the edge of his lips with her finger. Booker wasn't expecting this amazing surprise and smiled since it had been a while. He chauvinistically grabbed her waist and squeezed, inching his way down to curvaceous her hips. A squeal of delight escaped her parted lips as he leaned in to kiss neck.
"Mr. DeWitt?" A distant voice called, startling the couple. They looked at the front door and realized Booker had left it wide open when he entered. "Mr. DeWitt? Are ya home?" The voice grew louder, approaching the house. Booker ran to the door and slammed it shut making sure nothing inappropriate was seen. He was perfectly on cue as seconds later, it was a very familiar voice called from behind the door. "Uh Mr. DeWitt? You shut the door on me."
"Just a minute," Booker announced from the other side of the door.
"Who is it?" Elizabeth inquisitively asked.
"The guy you slapped" Booker replied as he motioned for her to head upstairs to change.
With rejection she whispered, "What? No! I'm not going upstairs to… Tell him we're busy. Booker, we were busy!" She hinted at their delayed sex by slowly lifting up her gown. Booker's eyes immediately flew toward her freshly cleaned shaven area. His eyes widened at the incredibly enticing spot. It's been a while he's seen it. He shook his head, grinned, and again repeated his notion for her to switch to more appropriate attire. They were participating in completely inappropriate acts and if commoners caught knowledge of their relationship, they'd be ridiculed; the laughing stock of Paris.
"Mr. DeWitt? I would like to offer my sincerest apologies to your daughter, Elizabeth."
"Ugh, he can't be serious!" She whispered.
Booker shooed her upstairs to change. He chuckled when she wined on the way up.
"Argh! Fine, but I want him out in less than 15."
Booker slowly opened the door to greet Charles Trénet. With acknowledgement of each other, the young detective asked for entrance. Booker was surprised to see a bushel of bright red roses and wondered why it was necessary. He invited him into his home and closed the door behind him.
"What exactly did you do to my daughter that you had to bring flowers?"
"Well, I wanted to accompany your daughter out on a nice night around town and… she didn't appreciate the idea. Therefore she shoved me." Charles replied sheepishly.
Booker narrowed his eyes and grittily repeated, "You should know better than to lie to a detective… Detective Trénet."
With a sigh, he responded truthfully "I tried for a hug her after our dance. I just wanted to let her know that I loved it. She dances incredibly well."
"Courting without my permission?"
"I am deeply sorry Mr. DeWitt. I didn't know what came over me."
Booker shook his head and walked to the kitchen to pour Charles a cup of tea and invited him to have a seat at the dining room table. The gentleman agreed and sat down placing the flowers on the table. Booker brought tea over to Charles and walked to his wine rack for a bottle. Wine was always a preference over tea for him.
"What kind of tea is this?"
"Imported from Spain. Try it," Booker, voiced as he read picked up a wine bottle to read it.
Trénet took a sip and found that it was very bitter; it was too strong for him.
"Quite, potent this is. Do you happen to have any sugar?
"Hm" Booker grunted as he selected another bottle to read, not paying Charles any mind.
"Ah here it is. And in liquid form no doubt. My… has science has progressed far," Charles spoke as he took the vial, popped its cork and poured all of its contents into his tea.
Sugar... What? I never gave him any... Just then he had remembered that he placed the vial on the table. What? No, no. Did he just… Booker snapped around to see that Charles had already started drinking. The vial was completely empty. Shit! Eyes widened and jaw dropped he uttered, "Charles wait! That's not…" The empty tea cup clanked on to the table as Charles smiled at him and spoke, "Is not what?" With a several licks to his lips, he grinned.
"That was splendid! It tasted oddly like… happiness of children and… flowers of Paris.
God damn it Charles! Shit… what now? Alright Booker think. Booker spoke cautiously to Trénet as he carefully stepped forward. "Charles… Tell me. Do you feel any different?" I don't see a beard growing so that's good…
With a widened and goofy smiled he replied, "Mr. DeWitt. Oh my. When have you taken your shirt off? You're expediently quicker than an eagle snatching fish at noontime." Booker's eyes drifted off as he analyzed Charles's strange analogy. "What?... Charles, I never took my shirt off. You're seeing things."
"Ah! Yes. I agree with you. It is quite warm in here. I shall proceed to follow suit in your lead," Charles said as he ripped off his shirt. "Detective Charles! Don't do that! Put your shirt back on. There's no need to…" Just as he finished removing his garment, he tossed it to his left which happened to hit Elizabeth as she came from upstairs.
"! (gasp) Oh my God!" She yelped as his shirt blanketed her head. "Elizabeth!" Booker respond with alarm as he realized she'd just came from upstairs. Shit! Booker's jaw dropped as he couldn't believe the outrageous scene that was unfolding before his eyes.
"What the hell?!" Elizabeth hissed as she yanked the clothing off her head to see what had hit her. She then realized that it was Charles's shirt and revoltingly tossed it to the floor as she looked up to be slapped with the madness that was developing.
"Oh my god! Charles! Son of a bitch! Why did you throw your shirt at me? Booker why is his shirt off?!" Speechless and incredibly confused, Booker could do nothing but gape his mouth, shake his head and shrug.
"Mr. Trénet! Out of courtesy and kindness we allowed you into our house despite what happened earlier. You've got the nerve to undress in my house and then toss me your shirt like I'm some coat rack?!"
Booker tried to calm the angry young lady but Elizabeth rejected any notions of tranquility. Peacefulness is the last thing that was on her mind. "Elizabeth, just relax there darling."
"No, Booker. I want him out of the house."
Charles was completely separated from reality and his strange reactions proved so. With eyes brightened and mouth wide open, Charles surprisingly spoke with a French accent. "Madam! Oh Madam! You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!" He generously licked his palms and proceeded to slick his hair back and quickly approached Elizabeth. With grimace of disgust she turned to Booker, confused. "Booker what is going on? Why is he acting like a freak?"
"Liz, he's not… he's under a lot of pressure from work. Detective work is hard." Booker quickly explained. She raised a brow and squinted with confusion. Charles then grabbed her hand as he bent down on his knees. She yanked her hand from his grasp and hissed, "Ugh! You just licked your hands. Get away from me!"
Christ this is getting out of hand! He thought as he rubbed his head as he searched for a way to fix the problem he created.
"Oh Elizabeth, Elizabeth! Please would you kindly marry me? I am desperate for your forbidden love! Like a lonely blue songbird without its pink lover, so as I kneel before you. Take my hand my lady. Come with me to a land lost forever."
"That has got to be the most pathetic proposal I've ever heard! Mr. Trénet. Please leave this house before I am forced to make you leave." With her finger pointed to the door she scowled at the kneeling half naked Charles.
Is that what was going to happen to me if I drank it? Booker thought as cautiously approached him. "Charles, look. You're not feeling well. Let's get you some fresh air, alright?" Booker suggested as he drew closer.
"No! No! Why must you reject me so?! Elizabeth No!" Charles hysterically reacted as he instantly slid off his pants.
"No! God damn it Charles," Booker shouted.
Elizabeth covered her mouth and gasped as she witnessed him completely strip down to bare nudity. What is he doing?! Oh my god!
"Okay! Getting some fresh air is a bad idea. Charles put your clothes back on… now!" Booker ordered.
"Fresh air! Fresh air! I must be free like a songbird! Elizabeth why must you hurt me. I must go and be free," said the crazed young man as he quickly dashed toward the door. "I must go to a high place and fly away from my sadness!"
"Jesus Christ not again! Hey! Where do you think you're going?! Get back here!" Booker shouted as he chased after the nude man.
Oh this is going to be so humiliating! All of Paris will mock us and we'll be ridiculed. Argh! We'll be known as the craziest people in Paris. My weekend keeps getting worse… Elizabeth thought as she stood there with palm to face. "Argh, Booker wait!" she said as she ran after Booker whom ran after Charles.
"Free like an eagle! Free like a songbird!" Trénet shouted as he ran through the streets, hopping over children, chairs, and plants.
Elizabeth darted out of the door to see that Booker had just made a turn around the corner. She ran in that direction.
"Hey! Get back here Charles! You're naked damn it!" Booker yelled as he weaved through the crowd of people. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanna…" He yelled until he tripped over Charles's shoe and unto a woman's bosom, knocking her down. "Sorry miss. In a rush here!" Elizabeth caught up and turned around the corner to see Booker laying on top of a random lady.
"Booker?!" she panted confusingly.
"It's not what you think Liz! Come on we're going to lose him if we don't catch up," he retorted loudly.
Elizabeth looked to see the naked madman running loose on the streets. She inched her eyes up to realize that he was making his way to the Eiffel Tower.
"My god Booker! He's going to the Eiffel tower!" she urgently spoke. Booker looked to the top of the tower and added, "The hell is he going to do there? Jump?" Immediately they glanced at each other and realized the severity of the situation and bolted after Charles.
"He shouted something about being free as a bird," Elizabeth panted as she ran alongside Booker.
"He's out of his damn mind. We gotta stop him!" Booker agreed as they chased after Charles.
..
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