Ma Soleil
Chapter Seven: How to fit Come-ons and Philosophy into a Single Conversation
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
I'm sorry about Kurt's accent. I'm really bad with German accents. But I'm really good at Remy's!
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
XXX
Rebecca swerved sharply to the right, taking the curve in the freeway at twenty miles above the speed limit. Her caramel-blonde hair streamed back in tangled waves, her blue eyes shielded from the wind by miniscule telekinetic shields. Rhapsody in Blue blared from the stereo, but she wasn't listening to it. Instead, she was reliving a moment in her far-gone past when she had thought she was coming to terms with her unwanted marriage.
But she hadn't ever come to terms with it. Being married to Victor Creed was at one time the worst and best thing that had ever happened to her. It gave her protection from all the psychos out there who wouldn't touch a woman who "belonged" to Creed, but then again, it was a prison. Binding. Restrictive.
Rebecca hated restrictions.
Grounding the accelerator, she sped on, noting that she had just left Westchester County and was getting on for New York City. She honestly wanted to stop running, but she couldn't. She'd run for her entire life. And it was only now that she was realizing that the only thing she'd ever run from was Victor Creed.
Just like she was running from him now.
Easing her speed down to 70, she changed the station from classical to her favorite 60s Motown Station. Her eyelids slid down to half-mast as she listened to an eight-year-old Michael Jackson sing "I'll be There," her lips moving subconsciously to the words.
". . .if you should ever find someone new, I know he'd better be good to you, ohh. . .'cause if he doesn't, then I'll be there. . ."
*BAMF!*
"Ah, liebshen! I have found you at last! Where are you headed?"
"Airport." She replied. "And how DID you find me, anyhow?"
"Kept teleporting."
"And. . .?"
"And Jean ran a telepathic scan on Cerebro for you. And she contacted me on your approximate whereabouts. It was mostly luck that I landed so perfectly in your passenger seat, eh?" Kurt grinned, kicking his feet up on the dashboard and pushing a hand through his long hair.
"Are you going to stop me?"
"Nein. I was hoping I could try some gentle persuasion, though."
"It won't work. Give it up."
"If you knew anything about me, liebshen, you would remember that I never give up."
"So you're trying to take me back to the mansion?"
"Yes, I am."
"Well, you can't."
"No one wants you disappearing for another sixteen years. I might be old and bent by that time." He bared shiny white fangs.
"I didn't disappear on YOU for that long."
"But you disappeared on your frater, mein liebling. How much worse is that?"
"I didn't have any connection with him! I had to-"
"And what will you do now, if I allow you to leave?"
"I just want to visit in Spain for a little while. Is that such a crime?"
"Nein. But you've had years to visit Sinister."
"I'm not going to visit Sinister."
"Ja, you are. Don't try lying to me, Soleil," he reached over and stroked her cheek, his calluses scraping gently against his fur, and then her skin. She slowed further and screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the highway. "What are you doing?"
"Something I should have done a long time ago, Kurt." She grasped him by the ears and planted her lips on his, fury clouding her vision when he pulled back abruptly. "What the fucking HELL are you doing? You aren't a priest, Kurt!"
"This is not right. I am too old for you."
"You WERE too old for me. Years ago. Not anymore." She traced her index finger down his nose, skittered her thumb across his lips, then pressed her palm full up against his neck, just behind his ear. "Hey, what's wrong, Kurt? Is there someone else? Don't you want me?"
"No, there's no one else."
"But you aren't attracted to me, are you?"
"No, I just don't feel expressly like incurring Herr Creed's anger at the moment."
"You won't. He has a woman, and I'm lonely. Please. No strings attached, unless you want them to be."
Kurt seemed to cringe. "When a woman says that, it can only mean something bad."
"I'm not a woman. Not an ordinary one, anyhow. You should know that by now."
"I know. That's another thing that frightens me, liebshen."
"Don't let it."
"I must. I think my life depends on it."
"You're a fraidy cat, aren't you? Deep down, under that tough indigo fur, you're just a poor sap, aren't you?"
Kurt sighed. "You ALSO should know by now that taunting my manhood will not constrain me to do as you wish."
Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I just want to jump your bones. Is that really so bad?"
"Right now it is."
"Damn." She shrugged. "All right, I suppose I COULD find some poor, unassuming country lout just arriving in the Big Apple and jump HIM."
"You do that." He passed a hand over his brow, and she pulled back out onto the highway with a squeal of tires. After twenty minutes or so of driving, she glanced over at him, her expression contrite.
"Kurt?"
"Ja?"
"I'm sorry. I really need to get out more."
"Out of where?"
"The merc world. Where everyone's fucking everyone, and it doesn't matter whom you've slept with or how."
"Just remember that I'm an X-Man."
"I will. I promise."
"Good."
"It was nothing personal, you know. I just need to get screwed silly."
"Then get it with someone else," he replied, a little testily.
"I SAID I was sorry."
"And I forgive you."
"Then why are you still pissy?'
"Because. I'm a man. No matter what my brain says to my body, my libido will not always respond."
"Do you mean that if I'd pushed a little more, you'd be in bed with me?"
"I don't know about a bed, I thought the back seat looked pretty good."
Rebecca's lips teased into a smile. "Did you know that that's part of the reason I bought this machine?"
"Because the engine is powerful AND it's pretty enough to cruise in?"
"No. Because it was the only convertible with a back seat big enough for sex."
"Ah." Kurt blushed beneath his fur.
"Are you sure you don't want to. . .test that theory?"
"I'm sure."
"Is your-body-sure?"
"No. But my mind is. And I have a lot of self-control."
"Practiced in the Order, eh?"
"Ja."
"So when did you leave?"
"The Church?"
"Yes."
"I never left the Church, I merely went back on my calling."
"Why?"
"Because it wasn't MY calling anymore. It wasn't what God wanted me to do."
"And God wanted you to be a member of a violent crime fighting organization?"
"Ja."
"This God sounds pretty cool."
"He is, liebshen."
"I was kidding. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"That's all right. Wolverine is agnostic, you know? I get plenty of worse jokes from him."
"I'm sorry."
"Do you believe?"
"In my own way, I suppose. I think I see God in everything. I'm surprised Logan doesn't. It's difficult to see nature in the raw, powerful way he perceives it and not believe, or KNOW that Someone was there to create it."
"You do not believe that one must go to Church to enter Heaven?"
"Hell, I don't believe you've got to PRAY every day to get into Heaven. But it's a good thing to do. Gets you closer, you know? Closer to God."
"And do you believe in the Holy Trinity?"
"I believe that God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one. Jesus said so, didn't He?"
"Do you believe in the divinity of the Holy Mother?"
"Mary? I believe that she was a beautiful representative of God's love to the world. But I don't think she's an icon to pray to. I think simple belief is enough."
"So, you are Protestant."
"Not exactly. I've been booted out on my backside from several Protestant homes, and there have been people who've told me that I was going to hell because I hadn't been baptized and all that unnecessary rot."
"You are beginning to sound like your brother."
"Why?"
"He hates it when we stand on ceremony."
"No, he just hates authority figures."
"That's probably true, too. But he doesn't like it when, for example, Ororo refers to Scott over a mission when SHE'S the leader of Gold Team, not HIM. Just because he was THE leader for so many years."
"That DOES sound like Jono." She smiled, a little wistfully. "So, how do YOU know when God wants you to do something?"
"He tells me."
"Oh. He TELLS you?" she smirked.
"I'm serious."
"What does He sound like?"
"Like my conscience."
"Ah. And how do you know that it was God, and not your conscience? Or for that matter, your libido?"
"You just know. God did not want me to be a priest, because He has other things in store for me. I assume that you have never heard God's voice?"
"No, I don't think so." There was a long silence. "Are you sure you're not just schizo? Perhaps you should see a psychiatrist?"
"Ha, ha, liebling. I am not crazy."
"Famous last words." She shook her head.
"I'll put it this way. I had a dog, some years ago, and she gave birth to a litter of three. Two days later, she died. So I found another female dog whose pups had died. She was of the same breed as my dog, and completely willing to take the pups as her own, and feed them. But they would not accept her, because she was not their mother. Their eyes were closed. But they could smell her. They knew she was not her mother. When God speaks to me, it is as if my spiritual eyes are closed, but I can. . .smell him."
"Oh. I think I get it."
"NOW do you believe me?"
"Maybe. But it will take more than a good analogy to convince me entirely."
"Perhaps you will be further convinced someday. But for now, why don't you turn around and head back to the Mansion?"
"Because I want to go to Europe."
"You said. . ."
"I never said anything about going back to Salem Center. I don't want to be around all the X-Types. They-they intimidate me."
"We WHAT?"
"Not you, Kurt. Not you. The older X-Men. Worthington and Jean, the all-American perfection we-don't-kill, holier-than-thou Xavier freaks."
"You know, Jean may be listening to this conversation."
"No, she isn't. I put my shields up tight as soon as you mentioned her the first time."
"Oh? And who else intimidates you?"
"I think that's it. Just Warren and Jean. They don't like me very much, you know?"
"What about Scott?"
"Scott's had a harder time than he's let on. He understands. He doesn't judge too harshly, too quickly. But his wife does."
"But if it's only them. . ."
"Kitty, too."
"Katchzen?!"
"Yes. She doesn't like me. Then there's Monet, of course. And Sarah always saw me as a rival when it came to Sammy. Forge doesn't like me, much, either. Neither does Lorna."
"That's a short list, compared to who DOES like you. And even if more don't, I know Logan's warmed up to you a lot more since you've come back. Maybe it's because he found out just how much you hated being married to Herr Creed, maybe it's because you showed him such a good time on your date last night-"
"It WASN'T a date, Kurt. It was dinner with a friend."
"And romantic dancing, and candlelight, and getting drunk, and kissing-"
"Hey! I didn't kiss him!"
"He kissed you?"
"No!"
"Then you just slipped and your tongue just happened to fall into his mouth?"
"I swear, Kurt! Nothing of the SORT happened. I already informed Victor that I wouldn't date Logan, if not only because he was my brother-in-law (however uninformed), but because I did not have any intention of falling into another feral trap. If THAT does not convince you that. . ."
"All right," the indigo-furred German put his fingertips over his friend's lips. "That is quite enough. I believe you. It's only that Miss Lee seemed to think otherwise."
"What?"
"Last night, she asked her 'Wolvie' how his date went, and he snarled and avoided her."
"He's his own man. He doesn't need taking care of."
"Yes, but he always, ALWAYS tells her how his dates go, unless they went too badly or too well. Of course, in the latter instance, he does not usually return home until the following morning or afternoon, but you see how close the two are?"
Rebecca grunted noncommittally. Then, she murmured, "It wasn't a date, and it was great. It wasn't too bad OR too good. It was fine. Eating, music, dancing, drinking. That's all it was."
"Was it?" Kurt grinned. "Or maybe you should crawl into Logan's pants instead of trying to get into mine."
"I don't WANT into Logan's pants."
"Why not? He's rather handsome, don't you think?"
"What are you, gay?"
"No. What are YOU, homophobic?"
"No, I'm not. In fact, this fellow I'm working with is gay. Chris Warden. That's why all the ladies want him."
"If I were a woman, I would say, 'what a horrible loss to the breeding pool.'"
"Then you ARE gay."
"No. Not all Catholic priests are, you know."
"Whatever."
"I'm not! Really."
"Will you prove it to me?"
"I've turned you down twice in the past twenty minutes. Are you REALLY asking for another?"
"I haven't been turned down once in my life before you. I'm just reveling in the new sensation."
"Well, revel while you can, because if you ask again, I might give in."
"I'm shaking. Will you?"
"No! I want to go home. You're going to drive me! WITHOUT coming on to me again." The tone of his voice was frantic, and his yellow eyes were wide.
"Very well. You're no fun at all." She pouted.
"Stop that."
"No. It's your punishment for turning me down."
"I thought you were reveling."
"I was joking. I don't like being turned down."
"I thought you'd only been turned down twice, and only by me."
"Yes, but I've decided that I don't like it, because it makes me-hot!" she turned to him with a naughty smile.
"Stop that. Ach, I'm getting too old for the ladies to be chasing me like I'm some kind of sex vending machine."
"No strings attached, I'm saying. And both of us win."
"Somehow I doubt that's possible with you."
"Are you insulting my sexual prowess? Want to try me? Or shall I just kick your behind to South Carolina?"
"No, no, and no. I'm not insulting your skill. I just want to go home before this insane (but undeniably hot) woman I'm in this car with starts hitting on me again."
"Again?"
"Yes, again. I came out here to get you to come home."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Now if you will just stop the car, I will leave."
"I don't want you to leave." She sighed. "All right, I'll take you back home, and I'll stay until I can see my brother. Whatever." She rolled her eyes, took an illegal U-turn, and pretended to be surprised when sirens filled the air.
XXX
Chapter Seven: How to fit Come-ons and Philosophy into a Single Conversation
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
I'm sorry about Kurt's accent. I'm really bad with German accents. But I'm really good at Remy's!
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
XXX
Rebecca swerved sharply to the right, taking the curve in the freeway at twenty miles above the speed limit. Her caramel-blonde hair streamed back in tangled waves, her blue eyes shielded from the wind by miniscule telekinetic shields. Rhapsody in Blue blared from the stereo, but she wasn't listening to it. Instead, she was reliving a moment in her far-gone past when she had thought she was coming to terms with her unwanted marriage.
But she hadn't ever come to terms with it. Being married to Victor Creed was at one time the worst and best thing that had ever happened to her. It gave her protection from all the psychos out there who wouldn't touch a woman who "belonged" to Creed, but then again, it was a prison. Binding. Restrictive.
Rebecca hated restrictions.
Grounding the accelerator, she sped on, noting that she had just left Westchester County and was getting on for New York City. She honestly wanted to stop running, but she couldn't. She'd run for her entire life. And it was only now that she was realizing that the only thing she'd ever run from was Victor Creed.
Just like she was running from him now.
Easing her speed down to 70, she changed the station from classical to her favorite 60s Motown Station. Her eyelids slid down to half-mast as she listened to an eight-year-old Michael Jackson sing "I'll be There," her lips moving subconsciously to the words.
". . .if you should ever find someone new, I know he'd better be good to you, ohh. . .'cause if he doesn't, then I'll be there. . ."
*BAMF!*
"Ah, liebshen! I have found you at last! Where are you headed?"
"Airport." She replied. "And how DID you find me, anyhow?"
"Kept teleporting."
"And. . .?"
"And Jean ran a telepathic scan on Cerebro for you. And she contacted me on your approximate whereabouts. It was mostly luck that I landed so perfectly in your passenger seat, eh?" Kurt grinned, kicking his feet up on the dashboard and pushing a hand through his long hair.
"Are you going to stop me?"
"Nein. I was hoping I could try some gentle persuasion, though."
"It won't work. Give it up."
"If you knew anything about me, liebshen, you would remember that I never give up."
"So you're trying to take me back to the mansion?"
"Yes, I am."
"Well, you can't."
"No one wants you disappearing for another sixteen years. I might be old and bent by that time." He bared shiny white fangs.
"I didn't disappear on YOU for that long."
"But you disappeared on your frater, mein liebling. How much worse is that?"
"I didn't have any connection with him! I had to-"
"And what will you do now, if I allow you to leave?"
"I just want to visit in Spain for a little while. Is that such a crime?"
"Nein. But you've had years to visit Sinister."
"I'm not going to visit Sinister."
"Ja, you are. Don't try lying to me, Soleil," he reached over and stroked her cheek, his calluses scraping gently against his fur, and then her skin. She slowed further and screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the highway. "What are you doing?"
"Something I should have done a long time ago, Kurt." She grasped him by the ears and planted her lips on his, fury clouding her vision when he pulled back abruptly. "What the fucking HELL are you doing? You aren't a priest, Kurt!"
"This is not right. I am too old for you."
"You WERE too old for me. Years ago. Not anymore." She traced her index finger down his nose, skittered her thumb across his lips, then pressed her palm full up against his neck, just behind his ear. "Hey, what's wrong, Kurt? Is there someone else? Don't you want me?"
"No, there's no one else."
"But you aren't attracted to me, are you?"
"No, I just don't feel expressly like incurring Herr Creed's anger at the moment."
"You won't. He has a woman, and I'm lonely. Please. No strings attached, unless you want them to be."
Kurt seemed to cringe. "When a woman says that, it can only mean something bad."
"I'm not a woman. Not an ordinary one, anyhow. You should know that by now."
"I know. That's another thing that frightens me, liebshen."
"Don't let it."
"I must. I think my life depends on it."
"You're a fraidy cat, aren't you? Deep down, under that tough indigo fur, you're just a poor sap, aren't you?"
Kurt sighed. "You ALSO should know by now that taunting my manhood will not constrain me to do as you wish."
Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I just want to jump your bones. Is that really so bad?"
"Right now it is."
"Damn." She shrugged. "All right, I suppose I COULD find some poor, unassuming country lout just arriving in the Big Apple and jump HIM."
"You do that." He passed a hand over his brow, and she pulled back out onto the highway with a squeal of tires. After twenty minutes or so of driving, she glanced over at him, her expression contrite.
"Kurt?"
"Ja?"
"I'm sorry. I really need to get out more."
"Out of where?"
"The merc world. Where everyone's fucking everyone, and it doesn't matter whom you've slept with or how."
"Just remember that I'm an X-Man."
"I will. I promise."
"Good."
"It was nothing personal, you know. I just need to get screwed silly."
"Then get it with someone else," he replied, a little testily.
"I SAID I was sorry."
"And I forgive you."
"Then why are you still pissy?'
"Because. I'm a man. No matter what my brain says to my body, my libido will not always respond."
"Do you mean that if I'd pushed a little more, you'd be in bed with me?"
"I don't know about a bed, I thought the back seat looked pretty good."
Rebecca's lips teased into a smile. "Did you know that that's part of the reason I bought this machine?"
"Because the engine is powerful AND it's pretty enough to cruise in?"
"No. Because it was the only convertible with a back seat big enough for sex."
"Ah." Kurt blushed beneath his fur.
"Are you sure you don't want to. . .test that theory?"
"I'm sure."
"Is your-body-sure?"
"No. But my mind is. And I have a lot of self-control."
"Practiced in the Order, eh?"
"Ja."
"So when did you leave?"
"The Church?"
"Yes."
"I never left the Church, I merely went back on my calling."
"Why?"
"Because it wasn't MY calling anymore. It wasn't what God wanted me to do."
"And God wanted you to be a member of a violent crime fighting organization?"
"Ja."
"This God sounds pretty cool."
"He is, liebshen."
"I was kidding. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"That's all right. Wolverine is agnostic, you know? I get plenty of worse jokes from him."
"I'm sorry."
"Do you believe?"
"In my own way, I suppose. I think I see God in everything. I'm surprised Logan doesn't. It's difficult to see nature in the raw, powerful way he perceives it and not believe, or KNOW that Someone was there to create it."
"You do not believe that one must go to Church to enter Heaven?"
"Hell, I don't believe you've got to PRAY every day to get into Heaven. But it's a good thing to do. Gets you closer, you know? Closer to God."
"And do you believe in the Holy Trinity?"
"I believe that God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one. Jesus said so, didn't He?"
"Do you believe in the divinity of the Holy Mother?"
"Mary? I believe that she was a beautiful representative of God's love to the world. But I don't think she's an icon to pray to. I think simple belief is enough."
"So, you are Protestant."
"Not exactly. I've been booted out on my backside from several Protestant homes, and there have been people who've told me that I was going to hell because I hadn't been baptized and all that unnecessary rot."
"You are beginning to sound like your brother."
"Why?"
"He hates it when we stand on ceremony."
"No, he just hates authority figures."
"That's probably true, too. But he doesn't like it when, for example, Ororo refers to Scott over a mission when SHE'S the leader of Gold Team, not HIM. Just because he was THE leader for so many years."
"That DOES sound like Jono." She smiled, a little wistfully. "So, how do YOU know when God wants you to do something?"
"He tells me."
"Oh. He TELLS you?" she smirked.
"I'm serious."
"What does He sound like?"
"Like my conscience."
"Ah. And how do you know that it was God, and not your conscience? Or for that matter, your libido?"
"You just know. God did not want me to be a priest, because He has other things in store for me. I assume that you have never heard God's voice?"
"No, I don't think so." There was a long silence. "Are you sure you're not just schizo? Perhaps you should see a psychiatrist?"
"Ha, ha, liebling. I am not crazy."
"Famous last words." She shook her head.
"I'll put it this way. I had a dog, some years ago, and she gave birth to a litter of three. Two days later, she died. So I found another female dog whose pups had died. She was of the same breed as my dog, and completely willing to take the pups as her own, and feed them. But they would not accept her, because she was not their mother. Their eyes were closed. But they could smell her. They knew she was not her mother. When God speaks to me, it is as if my spiritual eyes are closed, but I can. . .smell him."
"Oh. I think I get it."
"NOW do you believe me?"
"Maybe. But it will take more than a good analogy to convince me entirely."
"Perhaps you will be further convinced someday. But for now, why don't you turn around and head back to the Mansion?"
"Because I want to go to Europe."
"You said. . ."
"I never said anything about going back to Salem Center. I don't want to be around all the X-Types. They-they intimidate me."
"We WHAT?"
"Not you, Kurt. Not you. The older X-Men. Worthington and Jean, the all-American perfection we-don't-kill, holier-than-thou Xavier freaks."
"You know, Jean may be listening to this conversation."
"No, she isn't. I put my shields up tight as soon as you mentioned her the first time."
"Oh? And who else intimidates you?"
"I think that's it. Just Warren and Jean. They don't like me very much, you know?"
"What about Scott?"
"Scott's had a harder time than he's let on. He understands. He doesn't judge too harshly, too quickly. But his wife does."
"But if it's only them. . ."
"Kitty, too."
"Katchzen?!"
"Yes. She doesn't like me. Then there's Monet, of course. And Sarah always saw me as a rival when it came to Sammy. Forge doesn't like me, much, either. Neither does Lorna."
"That's a short list, compared to who DOES like you. And even if more don't, I know Logan's warmed up to you a lot more since you've come back. Maybe it's because he found out just how much you hated being married to Herr Creed, maybe it's because you showed him such a good time on your date last night-"
"It WASN'T a date, Kurt. It was dinner with a friend."
"And romantic dancing, and candlelight, and getting drunk, and kissing-"
"Hey! I didn't kiss him!"
"He kissed you?"
"No!"
"Then you just slipped and your tongue just happened to fall into his mouth?"
"I swear, Kurt! Nothing of the SORT happened. I already informed Victor that I wouldn't date Logan, if not only because he was my brother-in-law (however uninformed), but because I did not have any intention of falling into another feral trap. If THAT does not convince you that. . ."
"All right," the indigo-furred German put his fingertips over his friend's lips. "That is quite enough. I believe you. It's only that Miss Lee seemed to think otherwise."
"What?"
"Last night, she asked her 'Wolvie' how his date went, and he snarled and avoided her."
"He's his own man. He doesn't need taking care of."
"Yes, but he always, ALWAYS tells her how his dates go, unless they went too badly or too well. Of course, in the latter instance, he does not usually return home until the following morning or afternoon, but you see how close the two are?"
Rebecca grunted noncommittally. Then, she murmured, "It wasn't a date, and it was great. It wasn't too bad OR too good. It was fine. Eating, music, dancing, drinking. That's all it was."
"Was it?" Kurt grinned. "Or maybe you should crawl into Logan's pants instead of trying to get into mine."
"I don't WANT into Logan's pants."
"Why not? He's rather handsome, don't you think?"
"What are you, gay?"
"No. What are YOU, homophobic?"
"No, I'm not. In fact, this fellow I'm working with is gay. Chris Warden. That's why all the ladies want him."
"If I were a woman, I would say, 'what a horrible loss to the breeding pool.'"
"Then you ARE gay."
"No. Not all Catholic priests are, you know."
"Whatever."
"I'm not! Really."
"Will you prove it to me?"
"I've turned you down twice in the past twenty minutes. Are you REALLY asking for another?"
"I haven't been turned down once in my life before you. I'm just reveling in the new sensation."
"Well, revel while you can, because if you ask again, I might give in."
"I'm shaking. Will you?"
"No! I want to go home. You're going to drive me! WITHOUT coming on to me again." The tone of his voice was frantic, and his yellow eyes were wide.
"Very well. You're no fun at all." She pouted.
"Stop that."
"No. It's your punishment for turning me down."
"I thought you were reveling."
"I was joking. I don't like being turned down."
"I thought you'd only been turned down twice, and only by me."
"Yes, but I've decided that I don't like it, because it makes me-hot!" she turned to him with a naughty smile.
"Stop that. Ach, I'm getting too old for the ladies to be chasing me like I'm some kind of sex vending machine."
"No strings attached, I'm saying. And both of us win."
"Somehow I doubt that's possible with you."
"Are you insulting my sexual prowess? Want to try me? Or shall I just kick your behind to South Carolina?"
"No, no, and no. I'm not insulting your skill. I just want to go home before this insane (but undeniably hot) woman I'm in this car with starts hitting on me again."
"Again?"
"Yes, again. I came out here to get you to come home."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Now if you will just stop the car, I will leave."
"I don't want you to leave." She sighed. "All right, I'll take you back home, and I'll stay until I can see my brother. Whatever." She rolled her eyes, took an illegal U-turn, and pretended to be surprised when sirens filled the air.
XXX