**fore note: gets a bit rude, sorry.**
Part 2 of 5
He whirls so quickly that he fears his head will fly off his shoulders! He whirls so quickly that he feels certain parts of his anatomy moving in a frightfully unfettered manner! He whirls so quickly that he almost loses his stomach contents… but his eyes are open now and he sees the source of the voice in crystal clear clarity… and almost screams in horror!
Camille stands on the other side of the bed… wrapped in a towel… his towel… hair damp and hanging in tantalizing tendrils that his hand twitches to brush away from her face… skin glowing with sleek readiness… a sure sign of health and vigor… and… dare he think it?... satisfaction? Is THAT what he sees on her face? It IS! Oh, heaven forfend and please kill me now! Sat-tis-FAC-tion!
His almost dream-like reverie is jerked away, rather like that magic trick where the magician whisks the tablecloth out from under a setting of fine china. Everything is left in place but slightly altered and maybe even wobbling a bit. That's how he feels… like that fine china… altered… wobbly… his foundation vanished… with maybe a few cracks beginning to crick out in all directions!
His vision of tables and china and cracks clears to pin-point awareness when he sees her eyes refocus.
His nerveless hands dive down to cover himself, his mouth drops open, and he begins to babble, "Oh! OH! I'm SO sorry! I didn't mean for this to happen! I can't be-GIN to apologize for my actions!" As he continues to vent wild apologies, equally wild images are running rampant through his head! Him! And HER! Here! And over THERE! And then in the bed! Oh, Christ, in the BED! His brain shuts down in self defense and he can only stare at her as his words taper off and finally dry up.
All he can think is, Oh, Richard! You've finally ruined everything!
She just stands there, rubbing a small towel through her hair, so silky and soft (how he longs to touch it) and frowns, "You're sorry? Sorry for what?"
His silent admiration of her skin… her limbs… her… her EVERYTHING… is kicked to the curb as his gentlemanly nature roars to the fore, "Why… why… for what happened here last night, of course!"
She smiles a secret smile and lilts, "Just last night? Or this morning too?" She folds the little towel up and lays it on the bed's foot-rail as she slowly comes around towards him for all the world as if he isn't a beast and a cad!
Her words conjure up images that he can't accept… WON'T accept… not in the cold hard light of day! He takes a shuddery breath, "For everything! Everything that should NEVER have happened! I… I'm… please, don't press charges! You won't, will you? I'll resign… I'll leave the island… just don't ruin me… PLEASE!" He is very close to tears and well on his way to self-loathing and/or throwing up.
She pauses in her slow approach, her eyes beginning to snap, "Press charges? Ruin you? Richard, what on earth are you talking about?"
He gestures helplessly with one hand before remembering his state of undress. He glances desperately about and grabs up his boxers. "Turn your back!" he begs her.
She folds her arms, "Now, why would I want to do that?"
"So I can… I can…" He holds up the boxers to show her. She reaches, plucks them out of his hand and throws them out the window behind him. He turns his head and watches them sail away. He turns back to goggle at her. She is watching him like a cat watches something very small and defenseless. He doesn't like it much. His flesh is itching and his pulse is speeding up. Oh, dear lord, I need to cover myself! NOW! Before she notices!
He shudders uncontrollably, "Camille, give me something to wear! I'm begging you!"
She glances down at herself, frowns again, looks back up at him, sees his abject humiliation, and hands him her towel. His hand shoots out to take it but stops and hovers as his mental defenses crash in a major collision of hormones, morals, manners, and a lifetime of polite veneer. A great howling noise fills his ears as her absolute loveliness fills his eyes.
For the briefest of moments, they face each other in mutual admiration then his hand swoops to snatch the towel from her and he hastily wraps it around his hips and turns his back to hide what is blindingly obvious but what he cannot admit to. As he struggles with his emotions and biology, he hears a low chuckle and feels a fingertip run up his spine light as a feather, "Oh, chéri, I've already seen it! Seen it and kissed it and rode it and…"
At his low moan, she pauses, uncertain, "There's no need to be shy. Not now, not after last night…"
"Stop!" he shouts, flinching wildly, hands pressed to his temples to hold his brains in. "Stop it! For pity sake! I can't… I simply CAN'T…" He can't think of anything else to do so he reaches out and silently closes the window. He looks about. All the windows and doors are open! Anyone could see in! Anyone outside could see inside. See him almost naked. See HER naked!
He staggers away from her, makes the rounds, closes his house up in a futile effort to calm himself with the false sense of privacy. Privacy, he scoffs! As if! She's seen everything! How am I to work with her now? I can't! I CAN'T! I'm going to have to leave… to resign. I'll have to go back to England with my tail between my legs and hope like hell that she doesn't take her pound of flesh as punishment!
That nasty little voice just won't shut up. Your tail? That's not what you had between your legs most of the night OR this morning! You remember, right? As for her pound of flesh, don't worry about that either. She took it already, over and over again, and you didn't complain at all! Not once! In fact, you liked it. You liked it a lot! You liked it SO much that you…
He claps his hands over his ears in shock and looks down at himself in sick dread. I didn't! Please tell me I DIDN'T! Oh, how will I ever make her forgive me?
While all this plays out in his head, she stands quietly, watching him. Now, she meets his wide horrified gaze with stoic Gallic reserve (which is to say with rising anger and regal disdain). When she is sure she has his attention, she intones, "Are you trying to tell me you regret last night? AND this morning? Are you actually saying you wish it had never happened? Are you SAYING…"
She has to pause to catch her breath then resumes in a tiny voice, "Are you saying this is all a big mistake and you want me to leave?"
END – part 2