Bill had brought his wicked silver tipped cowboy boots along, and in his mind, found them appropriate for the evening. But, much to Beatrix's immense relief, his flashiness stopped there, as he wore black slacks and a jacket over a plain tan button up shirt.
The Spanish quarter wasn't too far away and it didn't take them long to become immersed in a world that was strikingly different from the parts of Paris they had seen so far. Bill, instantly felt a little more "at home" so to speak. Being that France was so close to Spain, there was a very genuine air about everything. Spanish music was everywhere, shops and restaurants were open, all in a very Spanish style. Even the architecture was more Spanish. Most of the inhabitants of this area of Paris where migrants from nearby Spain. They took their time finding a restaurant, mainly due to the fact, that there was so much to look at and listen to. Now that he was a "native speaker", Bill spoke with a number of the musicians and shopkeepers. He asked a few about restaurant recommendations.
Finally, well past dusk, the two killers ducked into one of the highly recommended restaurants. It was fairly large, and decorated in full Spanish style. It seemed to be a fairly popular place, and most of the clientele appeared to be Spanish. Bill and Beatrix were easily the whitest people there. Little, if any English was spoken...which suited Bill just fine as he rambled on with the host for a few minutes in an insanely fast exchange of Spanish. There was a large dance floor in the middle of the restaurant, which obviously seemed to be the focus of attention. A large band was situated up front, and the dance floor was quite crowded with flamboyantly dancing couples. Flamingo music filled the air.
Bill and Beatrix were seated at a well located table, most likely because Bill had gotten along so well with the host. It was midway between the side of the restaurant, which was lined with booths, and the dance floor itself. It was also far enough away from the band, that you didn't go deaf. The table settings were equally as festive, draped with bright Spanish cloths. There were native candle holders in the center of the table, the small flame giving a little more light to the slightly dark atmosphere. Only the dance floor appeared to be well lit, and even it was lit with strung up bulb lights that cast a festive reddish/pink glow on everything. Bill was jubilant, "This place is great..." he said enthusiastically, as they were seated. Already in the spirit of things, he went ahead and ordered himself a bottomless tequila. He then began scanning the menu like a child in a candy store.
Beatrix ordered herself a complimentary iced tea as she was still letting the wine from the other day pass through her system. Also she knew if she didn't with-hold her alcohol intake she'd be much easier to persuade. So she sufficed on stealing occasional sips from Bill's tequila which in the end she found too strong anyway.
They decided on two well recommended dishes to share and an appetizer of nachos drenched in cheese. The music grew more a live as the night progressed. More couples were going up to dance and Spanish men in black attire were grabbing random people from their tables to get up and dance. Whenever one of these so called 'dancers' approached Beatrix and Bill's table Beatrix gave them a nasty glare and they immediately averted to another table. She wasn't allowing Bill to get up and dance any time soon and neither was she.
Her reasons for not dancing? It wasn't necessarily embarrassment although there were clear signs of it. Beatrix was never ashamed of anything. She could flash someone and not give a damn. This type of characteristic was derived from having to do the most outrageous and embarrassing things during an assignment just to get the target killed. If she had to dance during an assignment she could fake it but if she were to dance now she wouldn't be faking it. Perhaps that being the reason she denied to try. But, she knew if Bill was set on an idea he wasn't going to give up on it.
So, as they were finishing off the last of the nacho chips the tall blonde began slowly but loud enough over the music, "If you plan on using your methods of persuasion on me I suggest you try now because I do not plan to dance on a full stomach." She narrowed slender brows on him, her expression coy. "And, keep in mind I've always been the hardest shell to crack when it comes to persuasion because I don't fall for much of your bullshit."
Bill gave her a smile that could be classified as deviously wicked, "It sounds to me," he said coyly, "...that you're asking me to ask you to dance." He put up a hand, "Fine...very well..," the sarcasm was obvious in his tone, even with the loud music, "....I can hardly blame you for wanting to. You can barely stand to just sit there and watch. I can see the anticipation on your face." He chuckled with amusement, as this only got him a nasty glare from the tall blonde; he stood up and set down his napkin. He then slowly removed his jacket and then with equal deliverance, he rounded the short distance of the table...an amused but intense look focused on Beatrix.
He bent down, and tenderly brushed strands of blonde hair away from her ear, which he then bent further down to whisper into, "My first point...you're in Paris...who knows when you'll get another opportunity to dance in Paris. My second point...there are so many other people on that floor, nobody is going to give a damn...or even know who you are. My third point...life's far too short to sit and do nothing. My forth point...I know what I'm doing...and I think you know that you're in safe hands when I know what I'm doing. My fifth point....."...he then said a long string of heavily accented Spanish words that were impossible to translate, but had the ring of something suggestive, "..My sixth point...I think it would be fun...and how often do we get to really have fun?"
He pulled away, attempting to give her the most imploring face he could manage. When he was younger, he used to be able to pull it off pretty well.....but it wasn't as easy nowadays. But, hell...it was worth a try. "Come on Kiddo....," he held his hand out to her, "...if not, you'll eventually end up getting pulled out and have to dance with one of those black suited, hyperactive, mariachi's...and I assure you.....you'll be much happier with me."
Beatrix stared at his extended hand as if contemplating her next move. She had two choices; take it or not take it. He made six liable reasons to get up and dance. She especially agreed with the last two. Well, if she didn't take his hand she'd end up with one of the mariachis and if they laid a hand on her she'd likely break it. There was less likely a chance she'd end up breaking Bill's hand.
Blue eyes did a quick sweep of the surrounding area and back to Bill's hand. She pursed her lips. "Fine," she placed her hand in his and rose to her full height. The tall blonde didn't look ultimately pleased into being dragged out on to the crowded dance floor. It was rather large considering the amount of people bouncing around to the upbeat music. She was use to the loud string of music that could make a person's teeth vibrate and leaned in close to Bill when they found a vacant spot to reside.
She put of a sly smirk to cover up her real facade. "The last time," she began loud enough for Bill to hear and the rest of the crowd oblivious. "I danced, I was on assignment and in the process numerous limbs were...lost."
Bill looked extremely pleased that he had gotten Beatrix out onto the floor...but he didn't gloat, that would just piss her off. It was perfect timing, as an appropriately upbeat flamingo style song started. He returned her sly smile, "I would prefer...." he grabbed her by the waist, bringing her into a close dancing position in one swift movement, so close her nose nearly touching his, "....that I kept all of my limbs," he raised an eyebrow, "But...I'll keep that warning in mind." And with that he spun her out at arm's length, only to rein her back in. "Don't think about it, just follow my lead and for Christ's sake, try to have fun."
Indeed, Bill quickly proved that he was something of a very adept Spanish dancer, especially for a white man. He kept a close reign on Beatrix, and spun her through a series of seemingly complicated but fluid movements. "When I was a boy," he spoke into her ear, when they were at close proximity again, "Estiban used to make me dance with some of the smaller of his whores. They thought I was cute and Estiban insisted that any man who wishes to be a cultured gentleman, not only learn how to read and write well...but learn how to dance well," He spun the tall blonde out again, twisting around behind her, he spoke again, "He told me...," he once again dropped into a thick accent that Beatrix would find out years later was a fairly good impression of Estiban, "...Bill..you must learn the salsa...the tango, the rumba," a dramatic roll of the "r" on this one, "...and even the lambada...the forbidden dance." He chuckled, "It was years later until, I realized that dancing..rather...suggestively with prostitutes was not what most ten year old boys did." He spun her out again. His talking to her was mainly to keep her mind off of what she was doing and in fact, the less attention she paid the better.
Most important with Spanish dancing, was not necessarily the moves, but the passion involved. It was about the way one moved. There was no denying the amount of dignified sexuality that prevailed.
Bill dropped Beatrix into a plummeting dip, her head inches from the floor, freezing there momentarily with his face close to hers. He gave her a wicked grin, "So far....I still have all my limbs..."
Beatrix laughed lightly and raised her own brows at him. "Yes, you do but that doesn't mean I haven't been tempted." She delivered her own wicked smile as Bill pulled her back up and she came in close again. To be honest she was having fun and a lot of it. Bill's recollection of past events in his life always kept her fascinated which was a great tactic to keep her mind off what they were really doing. She was never a fan of dancing but she never disliked it.
The whole prospect of dancing with Bill on a lively Spanish derived dance floor in the midst of Paris was a bit unfathomable. But it was happening and this was reality and better yet it was a reality away from the reality she was use too. Bill was turning out to be quite the dancer and it was impervious.
As he twirled her around and met her half way she suggestively canted her head to her chest and spoke calmly, "You know, Bill, I find this side of you quite sexy." It was partial truth as well as it was hilarious. The entire concept of two killers dancing and enjoying themselves said a lot in many different ways.
Bill flashed her a wide grin, quite pleased to hear those words out of her mouth, "You will find...Kiddo, that I have many more pleasurable sides than perceived," there was a suggestive raise of an eyebrow, as he once again spun her out. While somewhat dramatically delivered, there was truth to that. Bill had an almost dizzying variety of sides to his personality. It was one of the best and yet more frustrating things about his persona. He was a cold blooded killer...yes, but he wasn't called the Snake Charmer for no reason. Just when you thought you had him figured out, he'd suddenly unveil some hidden side to himself. Sometimes that side was quite freighting, others....surprisingly pleasant.
"You really should dance more," he murmured in Beatrix's ear, as he spun around behind her. "You have the right figure for it," with that, he smoothly unwrapped her wound arm so she came to halting stop face to face and chest to chest with him right as the music stopped.
He smiled, slightly sweaty and out of breath, "Now, that wasn't too torturous was it?"
"I'm not screaming or bleeding to death on the dance floor," she remarked with added sarcasm and the fact she was being a plain smart ass. Beatrix leaned in, which wasn't that much considering how close they were and kissed him. It was a short but passionate one to finish off the sensuality of their Spanish dancing.
She slowly broke it and turned her head. "Just in time," she said and took his hand to lead him back to the table were the food had been delivered moments before. Everything looked delicious and considering the fact she had worked up an appetite. The entrees were just as good as they looked and the two had fun sharing.
In time the platters were more or less licked clean and the tall blonde was slouched back in the chair obviously gaining the effects of eating too much. Blue eyes were half lidded as she viewed Bill from across the table. The music in the background had gone low key due to the fact the band was taking a break and many other couples were enjoying their meals.
Bill had had a little too much tequila at this point. He wasn't sloshed...he generally left such self embarrassment to his brother, but he was feeling a little fuzzy, which was only intensified with the general spiciness of the whole evening. Like Beatrix, he was slouched back in his chair, arm draped over the back, as he watched her watch him under equally halfway hooded eyes.
He gave her a lopsided smile, "Were you really serious those months ago...," he began in a soft lazy tone of voice, "...at that bar, when you said that in high school you were looking for...what was it....a charming, sophisticated.....masochistic man?" Bill rarely forgot much, even random conversations. "Or...was that simply for my benefit?" He wasn't try to pick her apart, in fact, he was merely curious....in perhaps a slightly intoxicated sort of way.
Beatrix stared at him for five seconds rerunning what he said in her head. She knew he had a tad too much to drink which could have been what brought on the question. She was hardly sloshed. She was physically exhausted which only brought on the characteristics of intoxication and being casually laid back. Even so she was surprised he remembered that far back, to her it seemed like ages ago.
"Yes…and no," she replied flatly. "I wanted someone charming and sophisticated…but in high school I'm not sure I even knew what masochistic 'really' meant…until I met you." She flashed a timid smirk. She wanted to be careful on this subject because if she said something wrong it could back fire and the last thing she wanted was to ruin a perfect night.
"Wanting a masochistic man was for your benefit…" She trailed off and waved a dismissive hand. "Well, that and I was still pissed at you for the airport incident." Wait, was that even around that time period? Maybe she had had too many 'stolen' sips of Bill's tequila. She shifted in her seat. "Or maybe I was cooling off from that spree in the back yard…" An innocent shrug of her shoulders.
Bill gave her a lazy smile, not in the least surprised at her confession. "Hrm...I figured that masochistic thing was for my benefit," he gave a slight roll of his shoulders, which could be called a shrug, "Although, I'm very glad I could give you a clear definition for the word," he chuckled. His look became briefly dark at the mention of the airport thing. He hadn't quite forgiven himself entirely for that whole episode. He gave a small tipsy shake of the head, as if refusing to talk about that. But the look quickly dissolved into something far warmer and amused as she brought up, the aptly titled, 'spree in the back yard.' "Hrm...yes...," he leaned into his resting elbow, "I don't think I've ever fully cooled off from that...." there was an unmistakable glint in his eye as he said that. He reached out and finished off the small amount of tequila in his glass, and then pushed the empty glass away from him towards Beatrix, as if to make her the permanent guardian of it.
He waved his hand, as if summoning up some thought he'd just had and desperately was trying to cling on to, "I can't....really remember what kind of woman I wanted when I was high school aged....I think my only qualification was she had to be uncommonly beautiful," he laughed, seemingly more at himself, "...pompous kid that I was...." then again..had he really changed all that much? ".....especially since the first woman...if she could even have been qualified as one....I was ever with was some...." he again searched for some appropriate adjective, "....sucio barato mujerzuela....a whore..," another chuckle,"....it was horrible...." He glanced up at Beatrix, with a smirk, noting her expression. Perhaps that had been a bit too much. "No more tequila for me...I'm done...."
Beatrix was holding the tequila glass firmly between long white fingers as if taking on her responsibilities as guardian seriously. Her lips curved in half a smile mixed with a smirk that read 'oh my God'. When Beatrix became drunk, as was exampled months back with the wine, she became more bubbly and fun, taking on traits that she showed in her younger years. These type of reactions brought on by liquor were hard to catch just as Bill's reactions brought on by liquor were reactions that only Beatrix saw as being way over the top.
"Shit, no more tequila for you ever," she set the glass back on the table with a dramatic thud. Blue eyes narrowed on him and she sat up, folding her arms on the table top and leaning forward. "But, this so called sucio barato mujerzuela has caught my attention. Enlighten me."
Bill chuckled a little longer than normal. He hadn't meant to say that....not really, but her wanting to hear about it only amused him further. He draped his head over the back of his chair, in a moment of thought. He had to dig deep for that information, and in his current state it took a few moments longer.
Finally, he leaned forward against the table, a thin sheen of sweat glinting off his forehead, "Well..." he began, obviously relishing in this, "....I think I was thirteen, fourteen...I can't remember...anyways, my friend Julio...not the recently departed bear, but the not so recently departed friend of mine...he shows up at my place..telling me that he's find some girls that will fuck us for free." Bill wasn't about to weaken any words, especially with Beatrix, "..I thought he was full of shit...like I usually did. Well, somehow he convinced me...I don't really remember...probably didn't take much....he was like that. Anyways, we show up....somewhere...I think it was a park of some sort. I don't remembering being all too classy..." a smirk, "So..there's these two girls there...they said they were nineteen..but I'd say they weren't a day over sixteen. And Julio was right...they said they'd fuck us for nothing..," he paused, recollecting his thoughts, "Now...keep in mind, I'd grown up around whores....I knew how it all worked..even at that point...but..I was also thirteen..and getting some was more important. Worst of all, Julio had told them that we'd fucked all sorts of girls....and that we were good. Bad move.
So...this....mujerzuela...she had dark hair...I thought she was pretty at first...but, the closer I got to her..I realized she had just caked on some cheap corner store makeup over a not so pretty face." He shrugged, "But hell...I wasn't going to turn it down. She said she thought I was cute for 'En Americano muchacho'...or some bullshit." He paused for a few long seconds, again...attempting to piece together the old memory, "She made me take my pants off.....and when I tried to take my shirt off, she told me to leave it on. I tried to kiss her, and she pushed me away. She kept telling me to hurry up and stop trying to kiss her...'just the fuck' she said." He chuckled, "Now...keep in mind..I was trying to be cool about it...ya know...trying to think about what I'd seen in smutty movies. She didn't want any of that...and she quickly realized I was just some cherry kid. When I finally did manage to fumble my way through the whole thing...which lasted all of fifty seconds...tops, she just shoved me off of her. She laughed at me and said it was so awful she should have charged me." His smile became slightly brittle, "It's a little hazy. What I do remember vividly...was afterwards....hating the way she smelled, the way she looked.
I swore to myself that, from that moment on..the only women I'd sleep with would be beautiful...and not just commonly beautiful...but...exceptional." He stopped, a bemused smile on his face. He was leaning heavily on his elbow now, and he raised his eyebrows at Beatrix, "And...that's that...nothing groundbreaking......thankfully, I never saw that mujerzuela again.."
Beatrix had listened to Bill's story of the mujerzuela whore intently. She always listened to his stories. This surely wasn't one of his more logical and meaningful stories. The idea of little Bill trying to fuck some whore for free and apparently having done a horrendous job was fascinating. This was especially humorous considering how 'good' Bill was now.
She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest casually. Blue eyes watched in almost a stoic manner as the waiter came over and cleared away their plates. Once the waiter left she spoke up, "I think we should track down that whore and you should fuck her again." She quickly added on to this, "Because then it would only prove to her what a mistake she made by telling you that you were awful." This was a discrete compliment as Bill's saying that he only wanted exceptionally beautiful women was a compliment to Beatrix. Blue eyes then narrowed questionably on him. "Didn't living with a pimp for an ungodly amount of years teach you anything?" Well, it taught him dancing, a somewhat bizarre perception of being wise, and how to fuck. But, the fucking part only seemed to have caught on in his later years which she was not, not thankful for.
She wove a hand around dismissively. She was tired and her words were running. "Nevermind, don't tell me…" Beatrix sat up in her chair and put her shoulders back to a better posture. Her laid back and sloshed persona switched effortlessly back to something more put together and placid. "Come my sophisticated, charming, masochistic, lover let's get you back to the hotel before we both drop dead."
Bill had opened his mouth to give a reply to her question, which most likely was very informative yet highly off color and vulgar...but he shut it with a chuckle. What she had just said....all of it....every single word, was highly amusing, flattering and strangely sexy. He watched her with intense fondness as she stood up, not finding anything worthy of a reply in his hazy mind. After a moment he stood up as well, and took his time steadying himself before wrapping his arm around Beatrix's shoulders as they headed out of the restaurant. The crowd was thinning and they were one of the last couples to leave. The host gave them a polite nod and smile as they left, which Bill returned with equal enthusiasm.
He practically leaned on Beatrix the entire walk back to the hotel, this was probably only partially due to his alcohol intake. By the time they got to the hotel, he was feeling far more clear headed, but the effects of the exceptionally pleasant night were only stronger. It might have been slightly due to the alcohol, but that was not really it....it had been everything: the atmosphere, the dancing, the whole conversation, her as her always irresistible self, Paris... Well, whatever it was, Bill was having a hard time keeping his hands off of her.
On the elevator ride up to their floor, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "You've now danced in Paris...." he murmured, "....but you've yet to make love in Paris....." Thankfully, nobody else was in the elevator at the time.
After what seemed like an eternity to Bill, they finally reached their room. He let Beatrix go in first and then shut and locked the door behind them. He turned around; his back leaned up against the door and stared across the expanse of the room at her with a look that would make Arizona in July look cold in comparison.
Now Beatrix was officially burned out. She was drenched in a glistening sheet of sweat, blonde bangs and loose strands were plastered against her face, and her chest was heaving up and down with quick breathes in a manner of hyperventilating but she was getting plenty of oxygen. Her exhausted body lay a good ten to twelve inches away from Bill on the enormous bed as she was far too hot for after-sex cuddling.
When they first arrived back in the hotel room Beatrix knew she couldn't deny that lustful and highly passionate look she had been receiving from the man across the room. She couldn't tell him no because she was tired and wanted to go to bed. If she had she had her worries he'd do something drastic, which she wouldn't count against his capability of doing so. So, she gave in but not unwillingly and it was intense.
She blamed that on the tequila.
Finally she caught her breath or parts of it and idly turned her head to gaze on Bill. A weary smile crossed her tired features.
Bill returned the smile with equal contentment and weariness through a curtain of hair. He'd yet to really catch his breath, and couldn't quite find the needed oxygen to speak at the moment. He was lying on his chest, back upturned....it's surface dominated by two long scars that made a slightly off center X and the distinctive pinched dot of a bullet exit scar near his shoulder blade. Not exactly the typical sight that most young women caught their breath in bed next to.
Bill knew Beatrix probably would have rather just gone to sleep right away and he appreciated her not entire unwillingness to indulge him. He only could hope to return the favor at some point. He was quickly figuring out, that no matter how much effort to not turn sex between the two of them into a ragingly intense act of passion, it never failed to happen....this was as exhausting as it was amazing. They couldn't just have some pleasant, quiet little row......oh no...instead, he felt as if he'd just died in the most exquisitely pleasurable way possible, and then slowly crawled back into the world deprived of oxygen and devoid of energy. It was amazing.
"I drank too much," he finally mumbled, a more than obvious statement. "I can't believe...I told you the whole thing about that whore.....," he brushed strands of hair out of his face, "...hrm....sorry about that..." a weak smile.
Beatrix was going to laugh but laughing required too much breath so a smirk surfaced on her sweaty features. She extended an arm and wove it over her head and said, "I can't believe you got drunk." She was…shocked, to say the least. Bill never got drunk. He always left the antics to Budd and when comparing the affects of alcohol on each brother it was entirely different.
"I was not drunk," Bill replied sternly, but still with a smile, "I.....," he searched for the right word, taking long enough that it was only funnier, "....was a little tipsy." He laughed suddenly, giving it all away, "I haven't had that much tequila in years....Jesus...." Budd would never let him live it down if he found out.
Beatrix's hand came down and landed lightly against Bill's back and rested there nonchalantly. She used her other hand to grab the side of the bed sheet and wiped the cloth over her face. "You'll be pleased to know you weren't…awful," Beatrix's muffled voice said under the sheet that was now sticking to her forehead and covering her face.
His smile turned sly after her second comment, "That's good to hear..." he chuckled. Many men didn't do so well when under the influence of alcohol, apparently he was an exception. Of course, he already knew that.....he wouldn't have put himself in a situation to fail. Bill was more than aware of what he was capable of....in a variety of categories. He wiped a hand across his face, in an attempt to clear away some sweat, "I'm also not exactly thirteen anymore..," he smirked, "...thankfully. Although, I could deal with twenty five or thirty..." He fell silent in a moment of nostalgia, his hand reaching out and casually running through Beatrix's extremely tussled locks of hair.
"You don't want to be twenty five. It's boring," she replied coming out from under the sheet. She was a little less sweaty but that was only her face that she had wiped off. Of course she was joking. She was twenty five and she found her life far from boring.
Beatrix casually rolled onto her side to face him and propped a single hand beneath her cheek and the other at her side. Blue eyes stared passed him to view the digital alarm clock on the end table. Her slender brows narrowed as she turned her fond gaze back to him. "We have three hours to sleep and then I drag you out to catch some early morning tourism." She smiled, a pinch of playfulness mixed in.
Bill's sleepy gaze widened momentarily, "Three hours? You're fucking kidding....," she wasn't, at least not entirely, he could tell, "Oh god......," he groaned and rolled onto his side to look at the clock. "Alright..." If anybody could handle getting up early, it was Bill. And even if he couldn't, he wasn't going to show it....she'd just have a heyday with that. He reached up and turned off the dim bedside light, the only one that had been on, and laid back down. He gave Beatrix a brief kiss before quickly fading off into sleep.