10. Let's keep it classy shall we?

AN/ Glad you've all liked it, guys. Slow update is better than no update, right? Tbh who doesn't love these gals in sweet love sigh sigh. You've probs realised by now this fic is an exclusively self-indulgent vauseman love affair ;)

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The slam of our apartment door closing tears my attention away from the television programme I'd been engrossed in. I watch Alex indiscriminately dump the house keys, kicking her shoes off at the same time as she walked into the apartment.

"Hey, I didn't realise you'd be home." She asks when she spots me, her eyes automatically brightening.

Something I loved about Alex was no matter how tired or run down she was, she always looked visibly revived when she saw me, like I was some kind of mirage in the middle of a barren desert. The lingering anxiety broiling through me since Polly's conversation had all but ebbed away with every second of Alex's presence.

"Just a half day today."

"I'm glad you're here. Now I can have you shoot me in the head right about now. I want it to be quick and clean, do you think you can manage?"

"Bad day at the office?" I climb off the sofa and walk up to her, sliding my arms around her waist while still holding onto my bag of chips I'd been wolfing down. I pull her in for a habitual welcome home kiss, immediately feeling myself relax as I took in Alex's familiar scent.

God, we're so domestic now. I love it truly. "But Alex, if I murder you who's going to be kissing me goodnight every evening?"

Alex smiles into my neck, "Is that all you're going to miss about me? She steals a chip and pops it in her mouth, "Of my so many highly rated qualities you could've chosen from."

"Oh! You're right. Shower sex. Strike the goodnight kisses, shower sex definitely trumps everything."

"I do not understand your obsession with shower sex, honestly."

"It's a real thing, look it up."

"Your obsession with it or the existence of it?"

"Okay, smartass."

Alex rolls her eyes, "Sorry for not supporting your fantasies, sweetheart."

I twirl around, amused smile on my face, "Sweetheart?"

Alex runs a hand through her hair, totally oblivious, What?"

"You called me sweetheart."

Alex shrugs her shoulders in a what's the big deal gesture. As though she used this term of endearment on a regular basis which for the record she did not. Not ever. I mean babe, or babes or some variant of that and sometimes my name in strangled cries during nights of passion but sweetheart?

I can't help but smirk, "Since when did you become so domestic?"

"As opposed to being an untamed wild animal?"

"Jesus!" I throw my hands into the air, "You're changing right before my eyes. Just what is happening? It's an absolute mockery to your formidable image."

Alex laughs, playing along, "I know, I know. I scared myself when I caught myself pre-recording How it's made episodes. That's when I realised I'm truly done for."

"What a fucking travesty. Just cut to the chase and sub your motorcycle for a Prius. You're already on the road of no return."

"Woah, that's too far." Alex finally shrugs out of her coat causing me to smile into infinity when I spot the navy blazer she's sporting with the rolled sleeves, complimented by the black t-shirt underneath. Alex has certainly upped her sartorial game not that it wasn't already upped but she looked even more marvellously marvelous than usual.

She catches me staring and cocks her head all amused, "What's with the death stare?"

I purse my lips and purposefully run my fingers over the fabric, "You know Al, you honestly couldn't have looked any more gay even if you tried."

"What this?" She laughs and grabs hold of the lapels and holds it open with casual nonchalance.

"You've set another record on the gay scale today. I should start giving you prizes, really." I take an educated guess, "Alexander McQueen?"

Alex swats my hands away, "Prada, actually. It's my new and improved look. Yay or nay?"

Like that's even a needed question, "A thousand yays." I sling my bag of chips away, suddenly way too starstruck by the tousled hair and that blazer with the casually rolled sleeves contrasting with the decidedly renegade tattoo peeking underneath. I can't help myself, it's as though I've been pre-programmed to react a certain way whenever I was in close proximity to her. "So… so many yays. But come to think of it, I like you in your birthday suit even better."

Before she has a chance to object I place an open-mouthed kiss over her lips sliding my hands beneath her blazer. I'd grown accustomed to all of Alex's landmarks. Often I liked to start my journey up north, starting with my fingers resting along the soft curve of her nape, taking pleasure in feeling her heart flicker to new speeds. And the swell of her breasts there as I veered to more southerly travels. The fabric of her tee was replaced with warm skin, my fingers traversing the contours of toned abdomen and the dips of her pelvis. I was like a blind person reading a book in Braille ( a more carnal version that is )

I could hear her sharp intake of of breath, "Y'know as much as I want this, Pipes...I really would like to at least..."

I glance up, cutting her off with a kiss and mustering up all the innocence I still had left in me, but damn it, Alex must have spotted the I want to eat you right now face I was projecting, because she adds, "Before you get yourself all riled up. Can I at least pour myself a glass of wine?"

I let my hands drop to the side, "Talk about hosing down the fire with that sexy lingo. Jesus, Al."

"Hey, it's not my fault when you've got yourself turned on because of my haute couture dress sense."

"Gay sense." I correct her, holding back a smile when she responds by flicking me the middle finger over her shoulder.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Alex is made up of 99% charming asshole, the other 1% is that je ne sais quoi that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.

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It's a few weeks later when Alex puts her book down and announces from the kitchen island, "God, I'm starving. I'm feeling the European in me tonight, Italian?"

I glance away from the television, disconnecting my earbuds just as my mood immediately perked up, "Sure."

"I'm sure the inspiration must have come from Bella the Italian stakeholder, we had in our meeting this morning." She's nonchalantly flicking through sheafs of paper, before casually adding "There was something so dark and wholesome about her."

Thankfully we've reached a far enough stage in our relationship where we can openly admire other attractive human beings and even voice this without crying ourselves to sleep sick with jealousy. This would be my general modus operandi. Alex, not so much hot on the crying.

I'm rolling my eyes infinitesimally when I sarcastically throw back, "Really. And her 'dark and wholesome' thing somehow reminded you of lasagna and ravioli? Nice."

"Nope." Alex looks up, expression deliberately serious, "It was more her verbal suggestion we should try that new place in Williamsburg. Fully authentic according to her." Alex shrugs her shoulders, "Well, she is Italian, so she would fucking know."

I'm forced to unroll my eyes - which is not even a thing but I'm doing it.

Alex had an uncanny super skill of knowing what I would be concluding, thus lead me on with that conclusion and at the very last second veer a full ninety degrees off course and then smugly acknowledge my sheepish expression when she called me out for it.

She piles up the papers into a corner and lights a cigarette, the beginnings of a thoughtful smile simmering through the smoke. "Wear something nice. Maybe that Gucci number you wore to the Canaries."

"Provided you wear that LBD by Chanel. It's only fair."

"It's a done deal."

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Curse Bella the 'dark and wholesome' Italian, because Madre Piccola was heads and shoulders above any foreign restaurant I've ever visited and I consider myself relatively well cultured. Even the valet man who had taken ownership of our car was dressed to the nines, wearing a classy white and black tux and oozing that world renowned Italian charm.

The place gently overlooked the Hudson, while the tetris highrises of Manhattan formed a dramatic backdrop. The crisp and heady scent of the river filled the air. No sooner had we stepped through the spacious foyer, a young, sharply dressed waiter showed us to our seats and smoothly presented us with an exorbitantly long wine list. Alex had reserved the table beside the floor to ceiling aquarium, permitting us a stunning view of vibrantly coloured fish swimming amongst breathtakingly pretty coral.

"Wow, babe. I must say...I gotta give it to Bella." I say concedingly.

Alex squeezes my hand, "You do that reluctantly-trying-to-be-nice face so well." She steals a quick kiss on my cheek, without a doubt knowing I was about to launch into a well-versed argument of how I don't have that face. "Also I scoured the reviews online instead of just blindly booking a table." She palms her hands out, "Five stars across the board."

"I guess I really do have to thank Bella." I jest, secretly smiling to myself at Alex's frankly adorable enthusiasm. "Actually remind me later so we can pit-stop at her house for a proper thank you."

"You wear sarcasm so well. But what about your evening plans later on?"

"I don't recall any evening plans."

"Well I sure do." She says with a tilt of her eyebrow. If I met this girl in high school I wouldn't have survived these subtle not so subtle come ons she liked to tease me with.

"Alex Vause, I can't tell if you're seducing me or trying to remind me of an important business event I've forgotten about."

Alex's eyes are twinkling, the light in her pupils burning with intensity when she watches me slide my coat off. I've got a pretty good idea of the answer already.

"Is something wrong?" I ask innocently, my enunciation all prim and proper. I take my seat with unnecessary slowness aware of how maddeningly exasperated that makes Alex. After a few minutes of pretend-skimming the wine list I steal a glance over the menu, catching my annoyingly patient girlfriend regarding me with obvious amusement.

Alex's smile is a cross between I know I'm too-smart-for-my-own-good and something a little more lustful. "I'm sorry, but you don't get to look like that and expect me to just sit there and watch, you fucking tease."

"You like it?" I stand back up again, beyond pleased. The nearest table from us was a good ten or so metres away and the ambient light was much less bright here in our little alcove. I'm realising that the specific location of our reserved table was not just selected for the pretty fish. Alex, as always the forward thinking extraordinaire.

"Like it?" She scoffs, clearly conveying how much of an understatement that is.

I do a little twirl for good measure, knowing full well my ultra-tight dress was accentuating all my worldly assets in the best possible way. As they say: if you've got it, flaunt it.

Alex pushes her chair closer to mine, the candle light burning twin flames into her green eyes, and declares in a low voice, "You know how much I like that dress, considering I'm the one who bought it for you."

I lose my teasing streak, instead feeling myself fall into her rousing trance. I'm hungry all of a sudden. Not for the mean lasagna this place was renowned for but the hands and mouth of this glass-wearing babe. "You like the dress or the body in the dress?"

Alex tilts her head, taking full advantage of our secluded location, when her hand slides under the table and strokes my bare thigh. "Is that a trick question? Because you know very well I'm not very good at formulating answers to these sorts of trick questions."

"You're not? How about your alter ego Alex Atwood? Is she a little better at answering these kinds of questions" I deliberately lean forwards, "Because I'm dying to know the answers."

Beside the flirting and Alex's general motto in life of can she make me wet with just her otherworldly charmer skills (she can) we do actually eat some of the food as well. Unsurprisingly, every course was creme de la creme luxury and every mouthful an explosion of titillating the senses.

Mind you, there had been a few touch and go moments during the main when said foodgasm experiences were interrupted by higher ranking stimuli...namely in the form of a certain person who may or not go by the moniker; Asshole with a capital A.

"Good lord." I clench my teeth together as Alex transforms into Talented with her Hands Asshole, and takes full advantage of the near-darkness, her fingers stroking my inner thigh underneath the table. My mouth is about to emit a strictly 15 rated moan, scratch that - said fingers have now moved precariously higher - I'm certain it's going to be an R-rated one.

Obviously...Obviously the waiter has to make the obligatory 'how is the food round' to our table when this unfortunate set of events happens to be taking place.

"Everything good with the food, madams?" He asks in a thick Italian accent while I'm busy holding back the world's longest breath-hold. (I knew I should have taken up more swimming in college)

"Thank you, sir. The food is delicious. The garlic prawns especially were a delight." Alex answers painfully slowly as she side eyes me. The absolute cheek.

"You're welcome." He turns to me, "And you madam?"

I can feel my face rearranging itself into an awkward grimace, clearly my brain cannot handle more than one thing at once, because all it can hone in on are the nothing short of destructive hands ruining me right about Now. I can already foresee myself following into the steps of that infamous When Harry met Sally scene.

Alex answers on my behalf, "I think her expression tells me she particularly enjoyed the mushroom risotto although...what was that, honey?" Alex narrows her eyes, before looking back up at the waiter, "Although the cinching of the eyes tell me the bruschetta with that pesto was a very close second.'

"Very well." The waiter glances at me, his expression brimming with scrutiny. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Alex squeezes my thigh and winks at me. It's a pity all of that devil's work was concealed by the overhanging table cloth. "Thank you, that's all."

Mr Waiter eventually leaves, leaving me to hiss out a half-formed moan, together with about four lungful breaths of air, "You absolute fucking jerk of an asshole."

Alex tuts, "I would have thought a high-class lady like yourself would have some finesse with her words."

"I could have watched the entire Titanic movie in the period you had to decide whether the food was good or not. Seriously?"

"What? I was giving it some serious thought."

Asshole with a capital A's eyes were so full of haughty naughty, I'm pretty sure that even Satan himself would be blushing his hot fiery ass off.

The cheesecake was nice. And so was the fountain of ultra-expensive wine I was drinking by the gallon. Liquified gold was the best term for it, and my stomach seemed to agree. The evening was so deliciously hazy, the alcohol giving everything an ethereal tint.

There were so many unheeded moments where I found myself lost into Alex's gaze as she talked which made me realise just how much I've missed this. Missed sitting opposite one another, giving full attention to each other. Nothing but our words, looks and touches keeping us company.

Together with my promotion and Alex's job - time for these kind of things had shrunk, there were times I could swear the hours in the day had been halved or it had been put into fast-forward mode.

I'm almost inclined to carve such moments into stone, letting myself never forget them. Imagining myself in years to come, in our ripe old ages, stroking my fingers into the carvings and happily reminiscing.

"Hello?" Alex enters my thoughts. "You there?"

"Hmmm?"

"You've got that getting sentimental face on again."

I glance up, "I was just thinking of how you'd look like when you're super old."

Alex laughs, "I like to think of myself as keeping most if not all of my super good looks."

"Looks aren't everything."

"Hmmm, I should know. It was your inner personality that attracted me to you in the first place. Nothing to do with those wholesome all American looks."

"And there goes my self-esteem." I chuckle jokily.

We finish off the last of our desserts, and tip into a easy conversation, just a stream of consciousness of nothing in particular. Through the course of the evening, I feel myself become deluged with an affable warmth that seemed to reach the entire periphery of my body. It was during an innocuous moment of mid-jokes that I watched Alex's smile, and it was like a strange coming to moment where I felt the whole damn world finally aligning itself into its rightful place. There's an unheeded instant where Alex reaches out for my hand, gently skimming her thumb over my fingers as she regaled a childhood story and it shouldn't by now, but her touch still made me my insides feel the way rain comes down hard.

It's a few minutes later, when I quietly announce, "Hey, I'm just going to head off to the ladies. I'll be right back."

I'm pushing my chair back when I'm stopped by Alex grabbing my wrist and locks eyes with me, "Hold up, I'll come with."

Nearly three years and counting and there's that distinct look that always arrest me in my tracks and somehow makes me drop any plans I have made for the foreseeable future. Somewhat problematic in most instances but always worthwhile in the end. "You are?"

"Yeah." She responds in a low voice, her eyes almost twinkling, cheeks flushed from the wine.

I watched a documentary once where they featured these African birds that have a hidden patch of green-coloured feathers but they only reveal it when they're trying to attract a mate. Because that bit of green said in no uncertain terms, I want you, and I want you now. Well the green eyes currently locked with mine also implied of such pending activity.

"But what about your bag?" I blurt out, forever the practical one.

Alex shrugs. I can tell she's barely holding back an eyeroll. "The shoulders are remarkable things and can hold up pieces of clothing without problem. Bags also I think."

Jesus.

The bathroom it turns out, is marbled and antiquated glass galore. The giant mirror over the sinks even had a goddamn self-cleaning wipers, and the taps - artisanal things with sensor-operated controls. And don't even get me started on the hand-dryers with all their obnoxiously shiny and unnecessary dials. I'm almost afraid to step on the gleaming marble floor tiles for fear of staining them with my common feet.

Alex whistles in approval as I set my purse on the counter and fix my hair up. Ugh, I look so washed out and my mascara was all smudged. I was heading toward the cursed panda look.

"God, Alex. You could have told me I looked like an Addams Family extra."

She stands behind me and places her chin over my shoulders, both of us looking at my reflection. "I was too busy being distracted by your supple rose lips to have even noticed." She punctuates this by placing kisses over my neck. "You look gorgeous babe, relax."

Alex turns me around and thumbs away the mascara stains, inspecting my face for any more mishaps. "There," She looks up and smiles endearingly, "Such a babe, didn't I tell you."

I find my eyes closing without me really knowing but they do and I also feel my head move toward her and I kinda kiss her. Alex's hands cup my face and she kisses me back, her lips hot against mine. She pushes me back against the edge of the counter, pulling my body against her. It's a bomb of a kiss evidenced by the fact I've even forgotten of our very public surroundings.

"C'mere." Alex doesn't wait for an answer and all but drags me into the nearest cubicle. I had a split second opportunity to admire the ostentatious decoration before my attention was skewed elsewhere.

"God, Alex. Here really?"

My mind is already reeling through all the reasons why we shouldn't do this. Imagining all sorts of scenarios where we'd be caught. Then again, a little bit of danger didn't hurt anyone, and also no one really liked being told what they can and can't do. My ministrations are left hanging when a hot mouth clamps over mine and does it's usual job of shooting my senses right up into the stratosphere. NASA rockets had nothing on Alex's legendary lips.

Her hands roamed unabashedly over my bare thighs when she suddenly whispered into my ear, "Public toilet fantasy, tick."

"I thought we already had?" I murmur back.

"No." She strokes my hair back, "That's when we joined the mile high club. Completely different trope, Pipes."

"You know you're just splitting hairs now."

"C'mon Piper English Major Chapman, we all know you're good with your words, now let's see what those cute hands can do."

I can't help but giggle. I still can't believe we managed to make out in an airplane toilet. To be fair, it's much more believable when I tell you it was in a private chartered jet and there had been literally three people on board, one of whom was the pilot, the two others being us.

Oh yes, the many perks of being with Alex - exotic holidays were part and parcel of the relationship. I still vividly remember the logistically challenging make out we had in the heart of the Java jungle but it was the Serengeti one that had proved to be much more difficult, (for future reference, sandy surfaces are a big no no.)

I should really get myself a punch card.

Suddenly my ears pluck up to the change in music playing through the overhead speakers. We both catch the lyrics of Nelly's it's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes...and look at each other in amusement.

"You heard the man." Alex cockily declares.

I'm too visibly gobsmacked that such an inappropriate song is making its rounds in a supposedly high-end restaurant, but then inappropriate hands seek and hold inappropriate places and I've already happily climbed off my moral high horse. Hot pleasure engulfs me as Alex continues to grind against me, causing my hands to involuntarily hike up her dress and grab hold of her ass.

Without warning she slides down the straps of my dress, expertly undoes my bra and cups my breasts. She deliberately pauses over my nipples, before sliding her mouth down from my nape down to them.

I writhe against the partition. "Oh shit. Alex. Fuck."

"You like that, huh?"

I'm too focused on the dropped off a building sensation cascading through my entirety to respond, and instead of the usual tame butterflies in stomach feeling, it was more like an army of elephants trying to ram their way out of my insides.

Her cheeks are grazing against mine o that I can feel the heat pulsating from her. Alex's eyes flickered up to mine. "How about we move onto the next base?"

Fuck that's hot. The herd of elephants had now gone full throttle. Alex had my full undivided attention now and I was so fucking ready I didn't care about anything apart from her fingers pushed deep inside me.

"What are you waiting for?" I manage to release through a series of throaty gasps.

Alex showered me with kisses that tasted faintly of white wine and strawberry cheesecake. She hikes up my dress and almost rips my panties off. I'm gasping hard and fast when well-seasoned hands tickle and tease my centre. Lightning like want bursts through me. My hands are dangling usefully by my sides as Alex continues to wreak havoc down there. I feel as though I'm being flung off the face of the earth, which sounds so dramatic, but there's only a handful of English remaining in my sex-filled mind, so that description will have to do.

"Jesus Christ!"

"I'd have preferred my name but that's okay."

She's honestly such a smug jerk. "Fuck, Alex. Don't stop."

Smug Asshole responds by shoving me hard against the partition, my back scraping against it as she brackets herself between my legs, one hand steadied against the wall. "I wasn't planning on stopping, babe." She drawls out in a dark voice that could stop entire armies.

One of my knees inadvertently pushes between Alex's legs. "Woah." She lets out a surprised groan her kisses momentarily paused. "Oh shit, that was good."

Happily flustered, I nod at her, Yeah?"

"You're quite the minx aren't you, Piper Chapman?"

I pull her glasses off and rest my forehead against hers, gazing into those greens, "As are you, Alex Vause."

I barely hear the door to the bathroom opening and only register we had company when a loud bang on our door halts my journey to orgasmic paradise.

"Hello! Is someone in there?"

"Shit! I think they heard us!" I whisper yell into Alex's ear completely forgetting I had every right to be using a toilet cubicle.

Alex strands away the hair half-covering my face, letting me catch sight of her flushed cheeks, the tan lines from our recent vacation to the islands of the French Polynesia still visible around her eyes. Alex puts a palm over my mouth, barely able to stop her own laughter from bubbling up when she reminds me that actually toilets are for one, or two purposes only depending on how you looked at it, but neither of them was this. "I think we're in a shit load of trouble if they catch wind of our tryst."

"Tryst?" My voice all muffled against her fingers, "That's the best you've got on the matter?"

Another bang, "Anyone in here or what?" One thing was for sure, this person was persistent.

"Don't say anything." Alex whispers the most obvious instruction ever. She's still pressed against me, breaths coming out in short, warm bursts. "They'll go away soon enough."

"And what if they don't?" I add with my usual none too cheery pessimism.

"Well I guess we'll just have to stay here for the foreseeable future." She squeezes my ass and smirks, "Nothing bad about that."

Another loud bang tears through my retort, and it makes me yelp out loud. "Alex, do something!"

She grabs her glasses out of my hair and turns to me, stare zeroing into my eyes, "I'll just be a minute."

I've changed my mind already, "Alex, don't."

"Shhh, don't worry. I'll handle it."

I watch her calmly unlatch the door, wrenching it open just far enough to poke her head through. "Can I help you?"

I catch a glimpse of a woman, maybe in her thirties and was dressed like she was in the 1930s. I quickly pull my head back when I watched her trying to peer over Alex's shoulders.

I hear her mutter, "I need to use the toilet."

"Really, and did the other four cubicles not work out for you?"

"This one has the bidet."

"Well, this particular evening you're going to have to go without the bidet, pal."

"You've been in there an awfully long time."

"You're going to have to wait an awfully long time longer...sorry."

Alex cuts the conversation short and shuts the door. I would like to point out we're not some low class couple who make out in toilets because this place technically left the realms of simple bathroom. I mean I've seen mansion parlours with less plush than this place. Plus in 1950's vernacular it'd be a powder room, and powder rooms equalled class and sophistication, so ergo we're classy.

Alex turns to me like nothing happened and continues kissing me like the self-certified professional kisser she is.

"I know there's someone in there with you!" The lady calls out in a last ditch attempt to reclaim her bidet containing toilet.

Alex sighs, lazily twirling my hair around her finger, "Piper, can you tell her she's kind of killing the mood here."

"Okay." I'm about to push myself back from Alex's hold but she pulls me back in, and boldly declares, "Right after I've finished with you first, of course."

Of course

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