OK, friends. I don't know WHAT is going on with FF . net. It seems there have been a slew of technical issues these last few days. But if you are reading, I hope you're enjoying, and I will do my best to stay on track as far as posting goes-as long as the powers that be let me!

Ch 8

"Come on…" Meg muttered, as she rummaged through the box of clothing that had been left by hapless guests of the hotel, who probably were so eager to leave the hellhole that they had not even bothered to pack. "There has to be something here I can wear." Twice now Chris had seen her in her bluish gray maid uniform. She was determined not to accompany him to dinner tonight looking like a servant. She may not have any money, but she did have some pride. It seemed, however, that the patrons of this hotel had similar tastes in attire as they did in lodging. Piece after piece of clothing was ratty and threadbare—better suited for use as a cleaning rag than worn as apparel.

She was just about ready to give up when she finally found a cute denim skirt that looked as if it would fit, and a pink t-shirt that she thought might work with it nicely. Snatching the items out of the box, she rose to close the doors to the closet, and bumped straight back into her mother.

"Whatever are you up to, Meg?" Antoinette asked curiously.

"Oh, just looking through the lost box to see if there was anything in there that I might be able to wear," she answered with a little giggle. "I'm getting a little tired of wearing the uniform all the time."

"I can certainly understand that," Antoinette nodded, looking down at her own drab garb that matched what her daughter was wearing. "Did you find anything?"

"Well," Meg nervously gestured to the outfit she had chosen, "there wasn't much, but I did manage to find this."

Antoinette reached out and took the skirt in her hand, holding it out before her. "Oh, Meg, it's so short," she shook her head disapprovingly. "Perhaps you should keep looking—for something a little longer, maybe."

"Mother," Meg reached out and took the skirt back. "This is the style of this era. Plus, I think this was the only salvageable thing in the box." She sighed heavily, "If we weren't stuck in this hotel, working our fingers to the bone without earning any real money, I might be able to purchase my own clothes."

"Meg," her mother scolded, her hands on her hips, "This hotel provides us a place to stay and food on our plates."

"So that's it?" Meg challenged. "Is there to be nothing else in our lives? Working, eating, sleeping—is that all we're worth?"

"For now, Meg," Antoinette answered, "it will have to do."

"It doesn't do, Mother," Meg countered. "It doesn't do at all. I want to live. I want to dance. I want music."

"In time, Meg, we will return to some normalcy," her mother promised her without looking her in the eye. Truth be told, she could not be sure if there would ever come a time when things would seem more normal. "Until then, you must be grateful for the fact that we are not living on the streets."
"For that I am grateful, Mother," Meg conceded, then added, "But I'm not going to stop hoping for—and looking for—more." Her mother didn't seem to have anything else to say to that, so Meg asked, "What about you?"

With narrowed eyes, her mother answered, "Me? What do you mean?"

"Are you really satisfied living here?"

Antoinette looked at her daughter and carefully considered what she said next. "I've been blessed, Meg. I have you and now, I have Nadir. I never thought I would find romantic love again after your father passed. I have no need for anything more than my family beside me."

"But what about you and Nadir?" Meg pressed. "You just got married. And look what happened. You've barely had any time alone together—well except for…"

"Yes!" Antoinette interrupted her sharply, wanting very much to forget the moment that Meg discovered her engaged in marital relations with her husband. "I know."

"Mother, why don't you and Nadir go out tonight?"

Antoinette sighed. "Meg, as you pointed out, we have no money."

Meg sighed too, because, truth be told, that was a major barrier to them doing anything outside of the hotel. Then she had a thought. "I've got it!" she exclaimed, with excitement. "We go through this hotel cleaning every day. We know which rooms are in use! What if you and Nadir spend tonight in one of the vacant rooms? That way you can spend the night alone together, without any worries about interruptions. You can have your dinner together there, and enjoy some quiet time afterwards."

Meg could tell her mother was considering this idea, knowing full well that the manager would never know. "What about you, darling?"

"Oh," Meg giggled, knowing that her mother being out on a date of her own would make keeping her own date with Chris much easier. "I'll be just fine. I'll probably have the room all to myself, since Erik is almost never home at night. I'll just watch a little television and probably fall asleep with Ayesha to keep me company. We have a long day of cleaning tomorrow, so I'll want to get some rest."

Antoinette smiled at her daughter. "Thank you, Meg. I have to go find Nadir and tell him we have … plans." At that, Antoinette raced off to find her husband.

Meg smiled to herself. "And I have to go wash my new outfit, because I have plans tonight too!"


"Good evening, Meg," Chris said with a warm grin, as she emerged from the building. She looked adorable, wearing a pink t-shirt tucked into a short denim skirt. Her blonde curls were cascading down her back, her rosebud lips curved up into a sweet smile. "You look lovely," he reached out and took her hand, holding it and caressing it gently with his thumb as they began to walk.

"Thank you, Chris," she answered, feeling color rise to her cheeks. He looked so handsome, dressed in a pair of crisp blue jeans, and a button down white and blue pinstriped shirt, topped by a camel colored blazer. "I hope I'm fancy enough…"

"Meg, you are perfect," he assured her. "All eyes in the restaurant will be stuck on you. I will have to fight off the other men with a stick.

Meg giggled sweetly, as they made their way to dinner.

The restaurant was lively, with dark wooden tables and green cushions on varnished mahogany chairs. Lights were low, music was playing, and all around them, people were laughing and having a good time. Just being in the space made Meg smile.

After they placed their orders, Chris reached across the table and took Meg's hand once again as they made small talk. He told her that he was a neurologist at the local hospital, but since he was still a resident, he often wound up working rotation in the ER—which he was finding he really enjoyed. That was how he'd grown close to his best friend, Jenna, he explained.

She'd been a coworker, but he didn't really know her well, until she had a very bad car accident and wound up in a coma. He saw her through that, and when she woke up they remained friends. Now, she was just about to have a baby and he couldn't wait to meet his little nephew for the first time. "Of course, I know I will be his absolute favorite person in the world! Jenna knows it too!"
"She's your friend?" Meg had a flash back to the fiery haired woman she had seen Chris with at the hospital on the first day they had arrived in the 21st century. She had assumed she was his wife!

"Yes, a very close friend. Why?"

Meg laughed sheepishly, "I told you that I'd noticed you one day when I was at the hospital. I think I may have seen you with her. Red hair? Very pregnant?"

"Yes," Chris nodded, "Jenna has reddish blond hair. And like I said, she's going to pop my little nephew out any day now."

"When I saw you with her, I had assumed she was your wife."

A strange expression came over Chris's face just for a moment. "No, definitely not my wife. She's not interested in me that way at all. She's still in love with the baby's father—even though he left her before he even knew she was pregnant."

"Oh no!" Meg exclaimed. "That's awful."

"Yeah. He was an awful person—left her for another woman. But Jenna's strong and independent. She'll be fine on her own. Plus I'll be there to help teach the kid how to play baseball."

Meg smiled, beginning to wonder if maybe there was a little more than friendship between Chris and this Jenna, until he said, "She's the one who told me to go ask you out, you know."

Meg cocked her head at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"When I told her about you …"

"You told her about me?" Meg asked, once again feeling a blush stretch out across her cheeks.

"Well," Chris answered sheepishly, "Yes, I did."

"What did you say?"

"I told her about the radiant beauty who fainted into my arms, but then had to quickly run home before it got dark. She was like Cinderella running away from the ball—perhaps not actually royalty, but pretty enough to be a princess anyway."

Meg stared at Chris wide-eyed and speechless. She could barely squeak out a quiet "oh," in response to his flattering words. He thought her beautiful? He thought her radiant? She could hardly believe it, but she could tell he was telling her the truth by the sincere way his blue eyes were staring into hers.

After a moment of Meg not making more than a minimal response, Chris asked, "So what about you, Meg? You've been listening to me prattle on about my life all night long. Tell me about yourself."

That question brought Meg down to earth quickly, because really, what was there to tell him that would not make her sound crazy? "Oh, um, I'm never very good at talking about myself," she began awkwardly. "What would you like to know, Chris?"

"Well…how long have you been living in New York?"

"Oh, we've only recently arrived, actually." Meg felt confident that she could answer this question honestly, at least. "We've been here about two weeks, I guess."

"Where are you from originally?"

And the questions were starting to get a bit harder to answer. "Paris," Meg answered, taking a sip from the coke Chris had ordered for her. It was very sweet, and a good diversion from the panic that was beginning to build in her heart. How was she going to talk about herself without ruining everything? Didn't he know he was so much more interesting anyway?

"Oh, Paris!" he said, excitedly. "I've never been there, but my great-great-great grandparents were from Paris. I hear it's lovely!"

"It is," she nodded and smiled a bit sadly.

"So what brings you to America? Are you visiting family? Going to university?"

"No, I…" it was hard to answer his question, since she herself did not really know why she was here or how she got here. But she answered him by saying, "Currently I live with my mother and step father—and his friend Erik—over at the Hotel. I…" she took a deep breath, "I work as a cleaning lady." She was a little embarrassed to admit it, even though he already knew, since he had seen her in her uniform and had spoken with the manager.

"Oh, well. . ." he began.

Before Chris could make any further comment, Meg hurriedly added, "I used to be a dancer."

Chris's eyes lit up at that revelation. "Really?"

"Yes," she nodded vigorously. "I was a part of the Corps du Ballet at the Palais Garnier in Paris."

His eyes squinted, "I didn't realize they called it that anymore—after it burned to the ground back in the 1800s."

Burned to the ground. The Palais Garnier burned to the ground. Her home—her whole world—destroyed. Meg felt her throat go completely dry and swallowed before she spoke. Still her voice was quiet and hollow when she said, "It's a nickname for the building some of the performers still occasionally use."

"Ah…" Chris said, apparently satisfied with her answer. "Well, have you done any dancing since you arrived in New York?"

"No." Meg shook her head, sadly.

Chris looked at his date, and saw her demeanor deteriorating quickly. She seemed somehow homesick, because he noticed that the sadness in her eyes had appeared as soon as they had started talking about Paris, and the Opera House, and dancing.

Dancing!

"I have a wonderful idea of where to go next, Meg!" Chris announced, flagging down their waitress to ask for the check.

"Oh, Chris," Meg answered, her melancholy mood making her feel a little disinterested in continuing the date. "Maybe I should just go home. It's getting a bit dark out, and …"

"You're going to turn into a pumpkin again?" he interrupted quickly, once again alluding to her as Cinderella. Meg laughed despite herself, and he continued, "Please, Meg. You seem to be a bit homesick. Allow me the chance to make you feel better."

"Alright," she agreed, and once they paid the check, he took her again by the hand and led her to yet another part of NY.

The building they stopped in front of had loud thumping music spilling out of it. People who were dressed far more lavishly than she was were crowding around the entrance, which was being guarded by a large man in a suit and dark glasses. Chris pulled her gently toward the door, but Meg stopped him, her anxiety getting the better of her. "I … I can't go in there."

"Why ever not, Meg?" Chris asked, surprised.

"W…w…well…" she stuttered. "Just look at how they're dressed! They're so fancy. I'm not …"

"Meg," Chris said, looking directly into her eyes and smiling. "I'm not planning on taking your clothes dancing. I want to go dancing with you. And I think you're perfect, just the way you are."

"Dancing?" Meg asked, intrigued.

"Yes, Meg," Chris giggled. "This is a dance club, and I thought, since you are a dancer, that it might be a nice thing to do together."

"I would love that. It's been too long."

"Then, let's go, Cinderella." He turned them toward the building again, pulling her close to him. "We don't want to be too late for the ball."

Chris led them to the door and nodded politely at the doorman, before ushering Meg inside. The atmosphere within the walls of the club was dark—even though Meg felt as if she were being assaulted by brightly colored lights, flashing from just about everywhere. There were people—so many people—and they were moving and flailing about in the middle of the floor. The music was so loud that Meg could hardly discern anything distinct about it, except a low, insistent thumping sound—like the sound she had heard outside, but much, much stronger.

Chris was saying something, but she couldn't hear him above the driving sounds of the music.

"What?" She practically shouted in order to be heard.

"I said," he shouted back with a laugh, "Let's dance."

"What? To this?" Meg asked horrified, not sure how one would go about dancing to this type of music. "I … I don't know how."

Chris laughed, "What do you mean, you don't know how? You said you were a dancer."

"A ballerina, Chris." She said to clarify. "I know arabesques and pirouettes. Nothing like this!"

"You know how to do the hard stuff," he waved his hand to dismiss her worries. "Dancing to this stuff is easy."

"Easy?"

"Yeah! There are no real moves. You just kind of toss your body about into a barely controlled chaos, and accept the fact that you're going to look ridiculous. But it's alright, because that everyone else looks just as ridiculous. See?" Chris immediately started bopping up and down, bending at his knees, and moving his shoulders and head in beat to the music. Meg couldn't help but laugh at loud at the sight. "See, I told you, Meg. Utterly ridiculous! But it's still so much fun." He extended a hand out to her. "Come on. Why don't you give it a try?"

Meg felt incredibly self-conscious, but she started to sway a bit with the music. "That's it, Meg," Chris said, his smile growing brighter, "Just let yourself feel the music."

Drawn in by Chris's infectious joy, Meg felt tension begin to melt from her body. She found herself following Chris's example, and began to bop away.

"Wonderful Meg!" Chris cheered her on. "That's the way. Keep it up, now."

Meg threw her head back and laughed, as her body moved more and more to the rhythm. "This is absurd!" she giggled.

"It's ludicrous!" Chris agreed, giggling himself now, as he saw joy lighting up Meg's eyes.

"Outrageous!"

"Preposterous!"

"But soooo much fun!" Meg laughed out loud now, as she twirled herself around on the dance floor, and Chris could not help but laugh with her, as she took his breath away.

Later, much later, Chris and Meg walked home, arm in arm along the riverfront.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked her, as her smile lit up the night sky.

"Oh Chris," Meg gushed, still so elated from the evening dancing. "It was a wonderful night—such good food, such wonderful company…"

"Such ridiculous dancing!" Chris added in, suddenly taking her hand and whirling her around in a spin, causing her to laugh even harder.

"Yes," she agreed, moving a little closer when she was done spinning. "The dancing was quite bizarre. But it was exhilarating."

Chris looked down at their hands that were still joined, and whispered. "I did miss one thing tonight at the club."

"Oh yes?" Meg asked, surprised, since he had looked like he was having such a good time. "What was that?"

"I missed slow dancing with you," he said softly, his blue eyes gazing directly into hers. All the music was so fast."

Meg felt the color once again rising to her cheeks, but still managed to place her free hand on Chris's shoulder and say, "Well, I can hum slowly. Shall we dance?"

Chris smiled at her and placed his hand on the small of her back. Holding their joined hands to his chest, they began to sway, as Meg hummed a sweet, soft melody that was downright intoxicating to Chris's ears. Swept away by the wonderful evening, Chris leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Meg's lips. It lingered just long enough to be more than a peck, but there was nothing forward, nothing threatening—simply sweetness, and Meg felt her insides flutter.

When Chris pulled away, his eyes were soft, and his voice was tender. "I've really enjoyed spending time with you tonight, Meg. I'd love to see you again."

"I'd really love that too, Chris."

"Tomorrow night? We can do whatever you'd like. We can eat, we can dance, take a walk, see a movie—whatever you wish."

"All of that sounds wonderful. As long as we're spending time together, I know it will be a wonderful evening."

Smiling warmly, Chris could not help placing one more soft kiss on her lovely lips. "Come on, Cinderella," he whispered to her huskily. "Let's get you home."

Meg rested her head against Chris's chest as he put an arm around her shoulder and cuddled her close. Neither of them noticed the man in the shadows watching their display of affection, but Erik certainly noticed them. He took a deep breath to try to control the anger that was bubbling up inside him. He remembered the night he saw Jenna crying by the river, and all the nights since then, when she would stand out here alone. Was this why? Was her new man the type to step out on her with the first attractive young woman he stumbled upon? And how was it that he had stumbled upon Meg?

He could tell that the two young lovebirds had not seen him, but he had seen everything, and he would be dealing with Meg. He knew Madame Khan would be very interested in knowing what mischief her daughter was up to when she went out into the night.

OH, Meg. Meg, Meg, Meg. We're being a bit deceptive, aren't we?

BUT, Chris is a wonderful date. How fun was he? I want to dance with Prince Charming! And he KISSED her! Swoon . . . thud.

Unfortunately, Erik saw! A little heads up-for those of you who have been wanting to kick him up to this point, you MAY want to get your steel toed boots on for tomorrow's chapter. Just sayin'!

Please review (IF you can, ha ha!) and let me know what you think!