Disclaimer: the characters and all recognisable situations belong to Stephenie Meyer or Charlaine Harris - this is a work of fan fiction, except for the legends and histories of the Quileute that, of course, belong to them. I pay my respects to their Gods.
It was a ten minute car journey from the hotel to the restaurant.
She watched him drive the car. He did it well, as he seemed to do everything.
"There's a touch of grey in that beard," she noted.
"I'm not a pup, Leah. I'm 30." He glanced at her.
"So is that what this is about?"
"What?"
"Settling down, you looking for a mate?"
"Everyone is. Who wants to die alone? Aren't you looking for a mate, chere?"
She grunted. She didn't answer him. She stared out the window, avoiding looking at him.
8888888
They pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. The gate was lit and had tall shrubs all around it. The garden was full of roses and other flowering plants and smelt amazing.
"Stay," he told her. She sat patiently in the front seat and he walked around the car to open the door for her. He held out a hand to her and helped her get out of the car. She noticed that he watched her legs when she did it. He didn't take a step back; he pulled her in against him and ran his hands down her ass to her thighs. He made a humming noise in the back of his throat.
"No panties," he whispered.
"You told me… and you didn't buy me panties." The ones she had been wearing would not go under this dress anyway.
"Jesus Leah…" He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. He pressed his forehead against hers.
"I'm nervous," she admitted.
"You'll be fine… no, you'll be better than fine. You'll cause a scene when you walk into the dining room. I just know it."
His hands slid down her bare arms and he held her hands. He looked oddly serious for a second, as if he was thinking and then he nodded to himself. She felt like she had passed some invisible test.
He held her hand and accompanied her to the door. They confirmed their booking with the maitre d., they refused a drink in the bar and he escorted them to their table. As they walked into the dining room, Leah halted. Alcide stopped and looked back at her; he was still holding her hand.
It was completely over the top. Rococo? She thought she remembered that term from somewhere. It looked like how she thought the Palace of Versailles looked in miniature. The carpet was thick and deep and the palest shade of blue, the walls were a deep pink and covered in ornate paintings with heavy gold frames. The ceiling height was double storey. One whole wall of the room was covered in mirrors that literally doubled the effect. Even the chairs were something she had barely seen before, let alone sat on. They were intricately carved with high backs and plush blue velvet seats. The tables were a long way apart; as if they wanted to grant people privacy more than they wanted to squeeze another table in.
Alcide gave her a tiny tug on her hand and a fortifying smile.
The maitre d gestured to a table between glass partitions. It looked out over another huge semi-outdoor room tiled with reddish coloured floor tiles and filled with more tables. The outdoor chairs all sported white linen covers down to the floor. "The solarium," he explained when he noticed Leah's gaze. The ceiling was glass and stretched up to second storey height on the original building, forming a huge room that curved around the outside of the main building. The glass had white material pieces like sails that could be pulled up to provide shade protection during the day.
Alcide stood by the table and waited for her to be seated. The maitre d spoke to Alcide but she didn't even hear what he said, she was still staring fascinated around the room.
"I can't compete with this," she told him in a whisper.
"But you did," he assured her. "Every man in the restaurant watched you walk over her. Didn't you see that?"
She glanced around the room. People were watching them. She noticed a few were female though. "The women are watching you," she pointed out to him.
"Not just me. We make a spectacular couple," he stated.
A couple. She didn't want to think about that. She had this weekend. Maybe that was all she had.
The food was nothing like she had tasted before. It was delicious. They shared their meals, feeding each other across the table. The portions, surprisingly, were not tiny and decorative. She was so glad; she was concerned she would leave hungry.
They talked about anything and everything; movies, books, funny things they had seen. Their packs and any personal questions seemed off limits by mutual unspoken agreement. It was too easy to be overheard.
They ate all their desserts. And then they had coffee. He didn't seem to be in a hurry.
"I thought you wanted to rush me back to the hotel?" she asked tentatively.
He gave her a heated look. "I'll do it; but I won't be rushing… I'll be taking my time."
She shivered.
The owner approached to ask them how their meal had been. He was so outrageously French. He offered to take them on a tour of the restaurant and they gratefully accepted. He chatted away about how long they had been here, thirty years, how his wife Michele did all the cooking, how he used to play the violin for the movie scene in Hollywood. He was an extraordinary character.
He offered to take a photo of them together. They used Alcide's Smartphone.
They posed for the first shot, smiling into the camera. But unbeknownst to them, he took a second shot as Alcide pressed his lips against her temple, and Leah's spectacular lashes lowered across her eyes.
88888888888
He kissed her hard in the restaurant car park; pressing her up against the side of the car and grinding himself into her. His urgency started to get to her.
She squirmed in the front seat; rubbing her thighs together and regretting the lack of underwear as he drove back to the hotel.
"Christ," she swore.
"What's the matter?" he glanced at her as he drove back to the hotel.
She squirmed some more.
He glanced at her again when she didn't answer. And then he took a long inhale through his nose and laughed. "Awww chere, you getting excited over there?"
"Drive faster," she urged.
"Tell me what you'll do for me."
"I owe you… don't I?"
"Oh yes. An oral apology I believe."
"I didn't think you'd forgotten."
"I hadn't." He leered at her.
"What about me?"
"We can do both at the same time."
"What?"
"A sixty-nine." He glanced at her again. "Oh honey, you've never done a sixty nine?"
"No."
He chuckled. "Well tonight's the night, then. Seeing as how you are so good with your mouth and it also allows me to thank you at the same time."
"You're pretty good with your mouth too," she told him.
"So I've been told," he said carelessly; he was concentrating on driving.
She wondered how many women he had slept with. She knew it was really bad form to ask and what was she going to say if he asked her? 'One'. Ugh. She was positively archaic. And he was thirty. He was ten years older than her. That made a difference too, she supposed. A girl a month, times ten years was one hundred and twenty girls. No, that couldn't be right. He'd had girlfriends. And that wasn't counting anyone he was with before he turned twenty. She shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts out.
He glanced at her again. He had stopped at a traffic light.
"Whassup?"
"Nothing…"
"Uh-huh." He frowned at her.
"Experience," she suddenly blurted out.
"Oh, I see." He gave her a particularly penetrating look. "So not many then. Two?"
She didn't answer him.
"Ahhh," he breathed. "So just the one then?" he asked perceptively.
She rolled her eyes, folded her arms and tried not to think about it.
"Experience isn't everything," he argued.
"Easy for you to say, if you have it," she snarked at him. She felt weird. She wasn't sure if it was because she was trying so hard to be grumpy or if she was genuinely upset at the thought of him being with other women. She shut that thought down before it got away on her.
"So how many for you, then?" she asked; choosing to be really snarky.
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"What? You lost count?"
He lifted one eyebrow at her.
"Oh God, I'm sorry… I don't know what's got into me," she apologised. What had got into her? She never apologised. "You don't owe me an explanation."
They were pulling into the hotel car park. She thought about doing a Charlie's Angels roll out of the car door and making a run for it. She'd wreck the outfit and she had left the other dress in the room. And she wanted that dress.
She did leap out of the car pretty quickly but he caught her before she got up the stairs. "Stupid fucking shoes," she grumbled as he grabbed her.
He slid his fingers inside the gaps in her dress; he wanted contact with her skin. "Tell me what's wrong?" he asked.
She shook her head mutely.
"Are you going to cry again?" he asked.
She whacked him in the shoulder.
He chuckled. "There she is."
She rolled her eyes again.
"You're not leaving… you owe me," he breathed at her in a silky voice. And then he kissed her.
They had to stop when another couple needed to get up the stairs. The woman sighed dramatically and Leah snorted with laughter after they had left; it was the same couple that had caught him smacking her on the ass and telling her to get all her clothes off that very morning.
"What's so funny?" he hissed at her.
"It's the same couple… what are the odds?" she snorted.
He frowned.
"After breakfast?" she prompted.
"Oh lawd… is it? I didn't notice them. Too busy checking out your ass."
She chuckled. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her up to the room. Whatever had made her want to run was past and she felt better now. She played with the hair at the back of his neck. She stroked his ear with a finger.
"What happens when I bite you on the ear?" she asked.
He grinned at her. "You'll have to try it and see."
FF_2154210_ - 22/08/2011 04:03:00 AM
