Hey, I'm back with another chapter. Thank you for the reviews and love, I owe it to ya'll to make this the best. It's coming along slowly, but almost to the end. Hope you like it, I don't know what else to say, but here it is in it's pathetic glory. Recap of last ch. : the final confrontation between tristan and maggie, rory's fight, then flight to Orleans, leaving Jess and Maggie...in the DuGrey mansion. The story continues.....Enjoy.
luce
disclaimer:1st ch.
They drove over the slick roads until the edge of dawn began hungrily clawing at the darkness, spreading over the sky like a pink, golden stain; Tristan hummed to keep himself awake. Pulling into the airplane terminal, he left the car with a valet, and nudged Rory.
Sleepily, she opened her eyes, and looked up.
The parking lot was cold, fresh, wet and black; she saw his face above it, behind him, the sky unfolding in pale, brilliant colors.
"Where am I?' she whispered, and it all rushed back. She groaned and closed her eyes again.
"C'mon," he urged, gently helping her towards the glass building.
She fell asleep again on the plane, her head on his chest, her hair splaying out over it like the rays of the sun as it steadily rose over the sleeping world.
"Oh, thanks Jess," grumbled Lorelai, rolling over in bed.
Nausea hit her; all she could recall was the long drive, then a glass of Chablis, then.......
Hanging up the cell phone, she crawled back under the covers. Worry nudged lines into her forehead. She knew she trusted them.
But she knew she had trusted herself.
Restlessly tossing, she got up, and examined the sunrise; debating whether to call or not to call, debating whether to yell or not to yell......her headache kicked in again viciously, and she grabbed her head. Snatching a towel, she headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would help.
In the DuGrey home, Jess threw the phone back on the floor, and fell back under the covers. He pushed a stray strand of gold hair behind the sleeping girl's ear, a slow smirk stretching across his face.
She opened her eyes slowly, and scrutinized him coolly; standing up, she let the gorgeously messy tendrils and damp strands of blonde hair fall luxuriantly over her back and face. The covers fell away from her, but she did not notice, or perhaps not care. Unashamed and un-phased, she licked her lips and looked at him. Jess cocked an eyebrow.
She shook her hair out, her long delicate fingers tangling it into a loose knot at the top of her head; a few clumps of the precious golden stuff trailed down her neck, over her bare shoulders. She covered her chest with the down comforter, tucking it under her arms, pulling up the long legs under the cover.
"Morning," he offered, and she took it carelessly. Nodding, she checked her watch.
"Oh God, I'm so fuckin' late! Did it ever occur to you this all took place in someone else's bed and that they'd eventually return?" she fumed, standing up, letting the covers fall off her frame like foam back into the sea.
"I don't recall that persistently being on my mind last night," he said with a small smile. She stopped for a second and looked at him.
"I don't either," she whispered, and leaned over, her sleep warm swollen mouth engulfing his with a deep, hungry severity.
"Mmmm...." he replied from between her lips, his hand slowly wandering across the bare skin, tracing maps and continents, traveling, caressing.
She pulled away, looking almost regretful. Standing up, with a disconcerting casualty she began strapping on her panties and bra. He lit a cigarette.
"Share," she ordered, and he tossed her the pack and the lighter.
In the cool, pearly grayness of the morning, she stood there against the breaking light, her fingers holding the glowing embers; her tall, graceful frame slouched in it's decrepit black lace glory, graceful like a heron's. She was so sensual, so terribly casual and sad.......he felt her inside him over and over again, grinding in the marrow of his bones, grating him with her carelessness. She shook her hair out over her proud back and slim shoulders, the hardened lines of her delicate, beautiful face glowing softly in the pale luminescence of dawn. It washed into the room slowly but surely, illuminating last night's terrible memories that lay scattered across the floor like the broken lamp.
He filled his eyes with the immortal, unforgettable picture before him, filled them with the black lines of her slim form, filled them with the ghostly clouds of smoke that encircled her like the mystery she was. He took in every detail, painting it in his memory forever. He knew he'd never forget this, that this moment would be alive in his mind for the rest of his life. It was the careless, hopeless, tragic sensuality of her hands, her fingers; it was the one night stand that would plague him for the rest of his life. It was the affair that would never die, or be forgotten.
She slipped on her coat, zipping it up and arranged her hair with a toss of her hands. Gathering her purse and shoes, she hopped a little, wobbling, slipping one on, and then the other. Re-applying lipstick, she pursed her lips in the mirror; she turned to look at him.
"I've got a flight to catch back to London," she said, unnecessarily. Neither of them really wanted an explanation.
He was watching her, smoking in bed, sitting up. He'd slipped on the boxer shorts, the covers lazily half thrown across his middle. She studied the powerful, lean outlines that flowed and rippled under the gold skin; breathed in the curious shape of his mouth, the dark smoldering eyes and hair with the cigarette smoke.
Striding over to the bed as he sat up, she met his mouth in one last kiss as he wrapped his arms around her back, holding her body close to hers. He placed a few lazy, experienced kisses along the base of his neck, as she ran her hands through the dark, tousled hair. She kissed his forehead one last time, and backed away, walking out the door, not looking back.
He watched her departing frame thoughtfully, stubbing out his cigarette into the sideboard.
"What a woman," he said to no one, almost laughing it out loud. "God, what a hell of a woman."
She had slept most of the day. He had not dared to awake her. In her tired, childish sleep she looked so innocent, so beautiful, so sweet that he hadn't had the heart. Closing the door softly he'd left her.
His phone rang. He fumbled with it, finally pressing talk.
"Hello?"
"Well, hello there, KIDNAPPER!"
He sighed deeply.
"Lorelai, please let me explain."
"Did you possibly think to do that before you crossed a few dozen state lines?" he heard the other voice dryly comment.
"I thought I'd call and tell you a couple of days after we returned," he responded lightly.
"Funny. Now listen, and listen up good. If what you do while you are there affects my daughter in any kind of negative way, I will find you, I will punish you, and you will regret it with all of your heart. I'm notifying your next of kin as we speak. Get it?"
"Hey, instead of making death threats, don't you have a few body bags to take care of, a little money to launder, a little booze to peddle and a show on HBO to be in?"
"Wow, you're a regular Seinfeld this morning. While we're at it, don't you have a YM special you should be doing?"
"Try Forbes," chuckled Tristan.
"Try the obituary section of the New Orleans Gazette." muttered Lorelai.
"Lorelai, here are my intentions. I want to cater to your daughter's every whim for a few days, comply to her every wish and fulfill her every desire for a few days, whatever it may be. Than I shall return her to you insufferably spoiled and you'll be begging to take her off your hands, but she will be back safe and sound nevertheless. How's that sound?"
"I didn't like the fulfilling desires part. I'll give it a 5.0." said Lorelai skeptically.
"Okay, blank that out; replace- take care of her every need." joked Tristan.
"I still sense an innuendo."
"Alright, remove it completely." he said.
"7.0, no more."
"Good enough."
"Thus we conclude our bargaining. Tristan, I could command you to come home right now, but I've known you for a nice year and a half now, and I think Rory likes you." began Lorelai.
"You think?" he said wryly.
"And what's more important, I think I like you. Don't screw it up, ok? End of sermon, and end of call."
"All noted, all taken to heart. A pleasure chatting with you."
"No it wasn't. You should be quaking, terrified." growled Lorelai playfully.
"I'm biting my fingernails...."
"It'll have to do," sighed Lorelai. "Take care, kid. Give Rory my love."
"Will do, bye."
"Bye."
He slowly hung up, shook his head, and smiled widely.
Creeping into her room, he felt a cold chill. Her bed was empty. Memories raced through his head at an infuriating pace; he turned around dizzily, and there she was.
"Morning," she said, almost shy as she looked at him through wide, warm clear eyes.
He took a deep breath.
"Morning, love," he said, softly wrapping his arms around her, holding her. He had come so close to losing this; so close to losing everything. He felt the warm contours of her body against his, so clean, so pure, so right.
"Your mommy sends her love, and tells you not to be long," he said in her ear, kissing the top of it playfully, and the earlobe softly. She giggled, squirming away.
Bouncing back into the bed, she snuggled up under the covers, motioning for him to join her. He kicked off his shoes and crawled in, sinking into the warmth she'd created.
They talked softly all morning while the fresh, clean rays of the sparkling golden morning sun poured through the window, bathing the whole room in bright, pure light. Sunbeams fluttered in and out from between the curtains playfully as they fluttered in the wind like huge, white butterfly wings. Through the open window, fresh breezes blew bringing in the scent of the flowers that dangled on the wrought iron balconies around them. From below on the street, sporadic notes of a sweet corner jazz tune danced up on the wind and filtered through the white lace.
"I knew you would. I didn't worry," she said, snuggling into his chest with a reassured look.
"I wish I could say I was as sure as you," he sighed. "But all that's well ends well."
Rory turned her brilliant eyes towards him.
"She was crying, ........do you think........" she said quietly, and stopped, catching the pain on his face.
"I don't know whether she really loved me or not. But I know it's my punishment and the past had to be resolved. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, and she was one of them; I didn't wanna mess up again. I was sick of being me."
"But I like you," she murmured.
"I was sick of the old me."
"I didn't like that you," she giggled, her arms tracing little patterns across his chest, dancing.
"It's all over. Think we can start fresh, slate wiped, no skeletons in the closets?" he asked, his hand slipping in her hair.
She paused, considering it.
"Yes," she said seriously, gazing at him.
His mouth sought out hers for a tiny, gentle kiss.
The breeze from the window softly blew a tiny strand of brown hair over her face; her eyes watched him, wide and innocent and blue as the midday sky. In the silence he could hear his own heart desperately beat all of a sudden. She said nothing, but held his eyes steady, making a promise, asking a question.
Unsure, nervous, she reached up a small hand and placed it on his cheek like a little child. Her eyes brimmed and glistened, full of unspoken things. He lowered his head slowly, holding her eyes, making sure; his lips came into soft contact with her lazy, warm ones with a gentle pressure.
Shocked, he felt the urgency in her response. She slowly deepened the kiss, pulling him in, and he felt himself sinking inside her. He ached to touch her. He breathed in between her lips, leaving a soft trail down to her neck. She closed her eyes and allowed him to cover the sensitive skin with damp touch after touch, his lips worshipping every centimeter.
"Tristan," she whispered, and he looked up attentively, wondering if he'd pushed too far. But the shy smile that adorned her lips were only a question, a disguised question that he was afraid to translate.
"Hmm?" he answered, not even bothering with words. She understood him too well.
She turned her face towards him, pulling him into a kiss that burned like a slowly building forest fire on his mouth, a deep, slow kiss that tensed his spine and made his fingers hurt, a kiss that was like a weight slowly crushing him. He could feel her lips, unsure but wanting, between his. His tongue slowly quested, not forced, exploring, caressing. She was soft, warm and yielding against him as his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight to him. She felt the hard angles of his body slowly meld into her soft curves in perfect harmony, leaving her will weak. Her hands wandered innocently over the well-formed muscles of his back, the contours of the steel under velvet. They slid down to his waist, to the small of his back.
He gasped , closing his eyes, suddenly pulling back from her lips. Her eyes were a question mark.
"I can't, I mean I can, but.......I don't think I should, uh," he said painfully, running his hand over his face for a second, trying to regain control. When he dared to look at her, the look on her face shocked him.
Maybe Rory Gilmore hadn't been schooled in passion, and maybe she didn't know exactly what the consequences of her actions would be. But the piercing want in her eyes glazed and brimmed, her lips pure and pink and full, her fingertips curious and unsure. At that moment, she looked like a little girl, as she stared with wide blue eyes.
"Could you if I wanted you to?" she asked shyly, and he crumbled under her innocent seduction.
"I'll do anything if you want me to," he said hoarsely, his power of speech gone. One hand slowly pulled off the covers that engulfed them. They slid to the floor, unnoticed. She shivered slightly, and he slowly got up and shut the wide glass French doors to the balcony outside. He turned around, and his eyes landed on her from across the room. She looked so small and vulnerable in the middle of the huge bed, sitting against the headboard with her long legs curled up. The room was dim and muted, the sunlight beating against the cream curtains on the outside, blocked from the room, and glowing with a dull luminescence from behind the windows. He was paralyzed for a second, watching her, his mouth dry, the immensity of the moment breaking over him like giant waves.
He'd never been in love before, but looking at the slender figure that watched him tensely on the bed, he knew he was gone for good now. His mind feverishly imprinted the date in his memory with a red hot iron. He approached her hesitantly, and she came towards him, sliding off the edge of the bed to meet him. Her arms crept around his neck slowly, as his mouth sought hers out. She breathed in broken interludes.
"Nothing you ever did matters, only what you do now," she whispered, and he took the words from her lips with his mouth.
"I don't want this to just be some validation. Know that I love you, alright?" he said hesitantly, breaking off for a second, the thought haunting him. She shook her head and smiled shyly.
"I love you too," she said, her words small and lost in the creamy dimness of the room, and he breathed him the moment for a second.
The kisses rained down on her mouth like fire; fighting restraint, his lips pressed against hers hard, and she jumped a little, nervously.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and she nodded. Hesitantly he approached again, gentler this time, and she responded slowly, pulling him to her and letting him melt to fit her contours. His hands slid up the back of her shirt, carefully, and traced the proud arch of her spine with long, sensitive fingers.
"Tell me to stop," he said, sensing her nervousness. But she shook her head and kissed his ear, then his neck, unknowingly hitting a spot behind his earlobe. His muscles stiffened for a second, and a fiery surge coursed through his veins. He fought against instinct, trying not to scare her.
A weakness hit her knees as his hands gently explored her; they crept up her sides, and hesitated, as though waiting for some permission before continuing. She pulled his hips in to match hers, just wanting to feel him closer. A new rush of emotion, of want, of need submerged her, and she struggled to stay in control, to stay in command. But the battle was already lost. Falling backwards slowly onto the bed, they crawled backwards a few inches, and she was pinned underneath him. She let his heaviness sink into her, let his body crush hers with it's weight. She made herself transparent, wishing she could break him, and rearrange him inside her. His mouth poured heavy, sweet kisses that intoxicated her on her lips. She wanted him like a little child, and she wanted him like a woman; she could not seem to compromise.
He took a moment to carefully observe her.
"You alright?" he asked softly, his hand stroking her cheek. She smiled, lost and dazed, her tongue unable to form words. Her hands slowly ran over his back, lifting his shirt. He swallowed hard when he realized she was serious. Slowly rolling off her, he sat up, and pulled the shirt over his head. Rory's mouth danced in a smile as she watched the movements of his muscles as he raised his arms. She propped herself up on her elbows with a delicious shiver. He ran a hand through the tousled hair, and smiled mischievously at her..
"I think I had a dream about this once," he grinned, and she giggled a little, relaxing. Her mouth was dry with want, her eyes huge and glimmering in the dimness. He pushed her hair away from her face with his hand, as he engulfed her again, his hands expertly and quickly running up the inside of the thin, white shirt she wore. He slid his hands inside the bottom of the sleeves, and she pulled her arms in, freeing herself. He lifted her neck and slid the shirt off, as she turned her eyes away. She quickly closed her eyes, too afraid of his reaction; but the firm kiss that followed reassured her. He was shaken, nervous for the first time ever, feeling the immense difference of what he was doing. She just let it wash over her slowly, savoring each second of intimacy. She'd never been this close to anyone, and her body screamed out for more. But she was long gone; the ship was sinking without it's captain.
Tristan felt a shock as her hands alighted on his belt buckle, her fingers delicately undoing it, and then letting it slide off. He complied, her he deftly slid off her jeans, and his, leaving them both vulnerable. They paused for a second, unsure. She could hear the irregular beating of her heart; she wondered if he could tell she was nervous. He only looked at her, letting a slow smile spread over his face. She crossed her arms over her stomach.
"What?" she asked, a little unsure, as his smile broke into a grin. He shrugged boyishly.
"If you only knew how long I've wanted to do this," he replied, and she felt the words rattle through her bones.
A flame burst inside her, and then dimmed to a roaring fire; a slight blush arose on her cheeks.
He approached her slowly, and for some unknown reason, she backed away from him, until she was with her back to the headboard. There was nowhere to go. He advanced, his eyes gleaming, his smile fading into a tentative, almost reverent look, and planted an arm on both sides of her, boxing her in. He leaned over as she looked up, catching her off guard with a kiss that made her legs weak. She slowly slid under him, as he sweetly attacked her mouth with kisses that throbbed with a desire her body couldn't even comprehend. His hand spread her legs slowly, as she went mad with the sensations that ran through her. She felt hollow inside, desperate to be filled. His hands ran up further and further, and her will broke completely as her fingers hesitated. He took her hands gently and placed them on his hips, at the waistband. Their eyes searched trustingly for a second. He took a moment to unclasp her, slipping the thin white lace bra off; her fingers slowly pulled down the fabric, and there was nothing left in the way. They were silent, only the beat of their hearts pounding through the stillness.
"It's not too late to tell me to stop," he said heavily, his eyes begging hers not to. She shook her head, and her whisper was small and fragile.
"No." she answered, licking her dry lips, her hands sliding around his back. "It was too late the first time we came here, when I kissed you in the water by the docks..."
His frame trembled for a second, the touch of skin to skin pure electricity, shocking them both. She kissed his shoulder blades, and explored the scent and the taste of him. He remembered what he was doing, and tried to organize his thoughts. It was impossible.
"I'll try not to hurt you," he whispered, as his fingers spread in an arc on her firm hip bones. A small moan escaped Rory's mouth that sent shivers through him. She buried her face in his chest, aware that he knew what he was doing and she didn't. His assured hands told her not to worry. She was fragile, yet strong underneath him, her slender frame flexible and strong like balsa wood. Her muscles contracted under his fingertips, and she took a deep breath.
"Do anything you want to," she replied shyly, and he felt himself break into a million pieces at her words. He struggled to breathe, his eyes holding hers in the creamy dimness, begging her , wanting her.
"Don't say that unless you mean it," he gasped, unable to hold back much longer. He stood to his knees.
Her only response was a kiss.
They lay dazed in the aftermath that followed; Rory limp, tangled into a sheet with Tristan, her hands still firmly dug into the heaving muscles of his back, as they slowly relaxed. He watched her hand as her fingers still trembled, and they silently held each other's gaze as they committed every detail, every feature to memory. His fingers lovingly traced her cheekbones, her lips, her skin that gleamed with the same sheer, glistening dampness as his. Her eyes were full and brimming, unsure, dripping with emotion. He struggled to regulate his breathing.
Pulling her close to him, he cradled her inside his arms, letting the beauty and pain wash over them as it receded, leaving them tired and full.
He rose up, and she looked away, with a new found shyness. Slipping on his shorts, he padded over to the windows, throwing them wide open, letting the sun and air fill the dim, damp room, freshening it with dry, sunny breezes. Rory felt empty somehow, as though she'd left part of her inside him; sitting up, she wrapped the sheet around her and slid off the bed, wincing at the sharp pain between her legs. Gliding over to him, she rested against his chest as they looked out the window.
"Think people can see us from their balconies?" she grinned, not really caring. He kissed her neck softly.
"Nope. Too busy doing their own thing," he answered, and she giggled, as he tickled her neck with his lips.
"Shower?"
"You read my mind." he smiled, stretching, testing his muscles.
"One of my many gifts," Rory said wryly, closing the curtains.
They grabbed towels, heading into the huge, sparkling master suite bathroom. Opening the cabinet to look for fresh soap, Rory observed a bottle. Reading the label, she suddenly blanched. Turning around to see her face, he felt his blood freeze.
"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly scared. She tossed him the bottle. Reading the label, he groaned, and then, let out a sigh of relief.
"My mom's morning after pills, on special prescription. God, I can't believe we didn't remember to use something. We got lucky this time. Sad, isn't it" he said darkly, sitting down on the edge of the jacuzzi.
"What is?" she asked softly, sensing.
"My parents haven't been down here in a year; but this prescription's fresh. This is where she was having her affair. I can't believe life would be so ironic that I'd be benefiting from my mother's promiscuity." he said thinly, his features hardened. Sadness filling her, she sat next to him and wrapped his arms around him. He cradled his head into her shoulder, his eyes full of pain.
They said nothing for a little while, until he sighed, and got up. Handing her a glass, he opened the bottle, and poured out one pill.
"Here, swallow this. And say a little prayer of thanks." he said grimly, and she did, relief washing over her.
They showered and dressed, and went downstairs; they spent the rest of the day roaming over the city, remembering their last visit, remembering and merging everything together again, shyly rearranging their love, their friendship to meet the new dynamics. They bought a bottle of rough, strong red wine that sent sadness seeping through their veins; night found them on the rocks by the bay shore again, watching the lights on the boats as they silently traveled over the dark, deep waters of the mighty river.
"Do you think what we did was wrong?" asked Rory quietly, as the cool breeze fluttered through her hair. He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled into the safe confines of his arms.
"No," he said truthfully, simply. "I'm in love with you. Nothing that involves you can be wrong."
She grinned, and watched as a tugboat slid through the darkness like a firefly over the black-as-oil water.
The insistent ring of the phone startled them both, and Rory frantically searched her pockets and bag, producing the little cellular.
"Yes?" she answered breathlessly, struggling to keep the note of guilt out of her voice.
"Rory?" said the heavy voice on the other end quietly, a voice she recognized well.
"Jess?" she said, concerned. "What's up?"
"Are you back in town by any chance?" the voice replied wistfully.
"No, why?" she answered quickly, suspicious.
"Just wanted to talk, that's all," he sighed, and she recognized the strange tone. A wave of concern hit her as her mind flashed back to ....the night.....and maggie! oh God.....
"Jess, Jess, listen to me," she said frantically. "When we left, Maggie was there, right? She was, so, what happened to her? Did she leave? Jess? No........."
"Yeah," replied the voice, chuckling a little. Rory breathed out a sigh of relief. She had a good guess as to what had happened, but she was relieved as she heard the small laugh.
"You're a horrible boy. A bad, naughty,-"
"Yeah, alright. I don't think it was a good idea, it's not turning out the way I thought."
Startled, Rory turned at the groan beside her; surprised, she watched Tristan run his hand over his face, rubbing his temples in frustration. He had been listening; she raised one eyebrow quizzically, and he shook his head.
"What's the matter?" she mouthed.
"God, he should've stayed the fuck away from her! I can't believe I didn't warn him, I'm such a fuckin' idiot....Christ! Why the hell didn't I say anything...."
"Tristan, it can't be that serious..."
"Rory?" said Jess, waiting on the line.
"Oh you have no idea," grimaced the blond boy.
"Jess, it's late. Sleep on it. I'll be home soon; don't worry. Ok?"
"No problem," said Jess carelessly, but with a tender note. "Take care, sis. G'night."
"Good night," said Rory softly, hanging up. She turned to Tristan.
"We should go home. We have school...and....Jess...." she said apologetically, and she saw by his face that he understood.
"I got to talk to him when I get there," said Tristan determinedly, getting up. She took his hand, and they walked back to the house, taking a carriage part of the way.
"Pack quick. We need to be there by morning." said Rory.
They stepped out, shutting the massive iron gates behind them once again; he held her hand, and they hailed a taxi, departing into the darkness of the foggy night.
OOh, I sense another conflict emerging. Anyway, that was a little more....fluffy than my other chapters, and less intellectual. Hope you liked it anyway, and what now? What consequences will Jess suffer? How will this story end? It's all in the Epilogue, coming next week. It'll be the last chapter of the story, tying up all those pesky loose ends......then, due to popular demand, Escaping the Inescapable will be united with this story as it should have rightfully been from the beginning, first with a foreword (intro, a little teaser from before the actual story to explain the first chapter of Escaping the Inescapable) and then, A last and final added chapter which will be a flash into the future, or something of that sort. So prepare for it all to come to an end, pretty soon. It's been a pleasure. If you have the time or if you feel this piece of crap deserves it, I'd love it if you dropped me a line.......or review.....