The next morning Bill woke up early, before sunrise, much like he did back home, and making sure not to disturb Beatrix, went out onto the balcony. He missed his backyard with its Asian inspired courtyard and garden. The balcony was nice, but it just wasn't the same. He sat cross legged on the cool deck tiles, still in his silk pajamas and sat quietly as the sun slowly rose. The concept of a cold blooded killer meditating may have seemed a little strange. But, if one really thought out it, a multi murderer needed to clear his mind just as much or more than a priest, or a yoga instructor, a banker, a CEO..or...whomever was meditating in today's "Eastern Philosophy is Chic" world. Bill had been meditating on basically a daily basis for over half his life, the fact that he killed people for a living wasn't going to change his habits.
After meditating for well over half an hour, he slowly opened his eyes and picked up his flute at his side, which he'd brought out with him. He began to play softly. He didn't have any real idea of what to play and ended up settling on a song he'd written a long time ago. It wasn't very good, rather repetitive really.....but he still liked it and amazingly so, could remember all of it.
The sun was well over the horizon when, over his flute playing, Bill heard the sounds of Beatrix moving about in the room. He paused for a moment to listen and then went back to playing.
Beatrix soon came out onto the balcony with a placid smile on her formidably groggy features. She was already washed up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a pale blue blouse. Long white fingers were secularly tightened around a steaming cup of coffee loaded with sweetener to wash away the remaining lingering of being tired. She slept very well, considering the fact that she fallen asleep in Bill's arms and remained that way for a good portion of the night until her slumbering body rolled away. When she awoke the following morning she was disappointed to find Bill absent from the bed and the room for that matter, but upon hearing the soft melody of the flute coming through the partially shut balcony doors, she was far from disappointed.
She leaned up against the far wall, coffee in hand, and just listened. She loved listening to Bill play and it was always remain one of her favorite things. There was always something about that flute that made her feel calm in the most not-so-calming situations. Beatrix was never sure if Bill took on to learning the flute because it screamed 'Snake Charmer' or if it was just because he was taught and continued to learn. She was sure he told her once, not the complete reason but snippets and perhaps her slowly working mind just wasn't fully awake to dig that deep.
The song soon ended and she would have clapped had her hands not been occupied. Blue eyes, half lidded, came down to stare at him affectionately. She couldn't have been more then happy to know they were back on 'good' terms. The last thing she wanted was their last full day in Paris to be shitty. "Hello," she said gently and straightened her posture against the wall. "There's a cup of coffee on the table inside for you."
Bill slowly lowered the flute, taking his time to savor those first moments of silence, as well as the feel of the instrument in his hands. He liked holding flutes nearly as much as he did guns but not nearly as much as women. That order of tactile preferences obviously said a thing or two about his persona. Finally, he lowered the flute to the tiles next to him and turned to look up at Beatrix with a soft affectionate look. "You look very beautiful," he said quietly. And she did, which...was somewhat redundant when it came to Beatrix. But, there was something extra special about the way she looked in the early sun, her hair blowing slightly in the mild wind and her eyes seeming to match perfectly with the pale blue blouse she was wearing. He offered her a small smile after that comment and then slowly stood up. It was best to move gradually out of a meditative state.
He brushed by her on his way inside, "Thank you," he replied with equal gentility and went inside to claim his coffee, which thankfully was as black as a moonless midnight. Beatrix knew him all too well. He returned to her side on the balcony, hot coffee now in hand. He squinted across the slowly brightening Paris cityscape, his own hair blowing across his face.
"Our last day here Kiddo...." he murmured, "We'd best make it memorable..." He turned to look at her with a warm smile.
Beatrix returned the smile and took another sip of her coffee. The two killers stood out on the balcony over looking the bustling beauty below that was Paris for ten minutes, drinking coffee, before heading inside. Beatrix set down her half empty coffee mug and retired back to the bed side. One long leg crossed over the other and hands were palms down on the comforter.
Blue hues watched absentmindedly as Bill traversed about the room for clothes. She wanted their last full day in Paris to be as memorable and as special as the past days had been but she wasn't sure how. Neither of them were the typical tourist type and going to tour the Notre Dame or the Musée du Louvre was a big no-no.
"Once you've finished becoming…pretty," a coy smile flashed in her man's direction as well as a raised brow.
Bill chuckled at Beatrix's "pretty comment" and flashed her a broad smile as he buttoned up his dark grey shirt. "Don't you know it baby," he smirked.
She gave him a look and suggested. "Why don't we just walk?" Last time they walked they found that street fair where she found her baguette. The second time around could be just as pleasant or surprising.
They were down on the street within five minutes, and without any argument headed off to their new favorite coffee place by the canal waterfront. It didn't matter that they'd already had one cup of coffee, Bill wanted more. He already could tell he was going to go through withdrawals from it when he got home.
As they were standing in line to get coffee, Bill sifted through a wall of tourist pamphlets and after a few minutes, returned to Beatrix's side with a frown. "It seems the Bastille, or at least...where it was, is now covered with a fancy new opera house." Apparently Bill wasn't as adept at his French history as he was at other things. He continued to frown down at the fancy opera brochure, "Well...shit.." he drawled, "so much for that," he shrugged, tossing it into a nearby trashcan just as they reached the counter to order.
Minutes later, more coffee in hand, the two killers stood out in the shining mid morning sun. Bill looked at Beatrix with a calm façade, "Let's just keep walking...see where that takes us," he took her hand and they headed in a direction they had yet to transverse thus far.
They didn't transverse far when Bill spotted a tourist booth were numerous pamphlets were stacked up. Beatrix decided to wait outside, as she had given over her tourist responsibilities to Bill. She stood outside staring through the dark shades of her sunglasses when she was bombarded by mimes. There were two of them and they looked exactly the same. Tight black stretch pants, a white and black pin stripped shirt, black shoes, red hat, and white and black face paint.
The two mimes must have thought the tall blonde was bored as she was just standing there in a city that was known for its fast pace. They began to entertain her; performing the classic 'box' and 'rope climb'. Beatrix stood there with a stoic expression as she leaned up against a pillar. She could tolerate a bunch of mimes trying to entertain her, but what she couldn't tolerate was a bunch of mimes trying to get her to join in.
They began playing with her hair, taking chunks and putting it in mismatched directions. The hair she could almost tolerate and the tightening in her features showed her increasing but controlled irritation. But what she couldn't stand was when the fucking mime took her sunglasses and put them on pretending to prance around in a very un-Beatrix manner. The tall blonde pushed off the pillar and walked up to the prancing mimes and snatched her sunglasses back. Before she could put them on the other mime snatched them away and began to point a finger at her as if disciplining her for taking the sunglasses away. They were her fucking sunglasses! She began to get fed up and took threatening steps towards the mime that had her sunglasses, when the first mime blocked her path. The mime crossed arms over his chest and wasn't going to budge. So, Beatrix pushed him out of the way.
The mime with the sunglasses began to display a pathetic 'uh oh' expression. Beatrix closed in. She could play mime too. Long white fingers folded into the shape of a gun and she nonchalantly pretended to shoot the mime. The mime stopped, stared with mouth agape, and then began a very over dramatic death before falling to the ground. With a smug grin Beatrix walked over, knelt down, and snatched up her sunglasses. She then rose to her full height and began to walk back to her pillar. The first mime was now at his counterpart's side pretending to cry.
When Bill came out to the scene with a classic 'what the fuck' expression, Beatrix casually looked over to him and clarified, "They tried to take my sunglasses."
Bill stood taking in this whole tableaux for a few seconds. The image of the "dead" mime being comforted by his miming compatriot was just too damn funny in that sort of dark humor way, that could be truly appreciated by Bill.
He sauntered over to the tall blonde, a couple of pamphlets in his hand, "Well, now you've gone and done it Kiddo....you've killed a mime." He was smiling with the utmost sarcasm.
The mime that had "survived" Beatrix's sunglasses encounter stood up with a dramatically put on angry frown and came stomping towards the two killers. His painted face emphasized the frown in a clown like fashion. He came up to Bill, falling somewhat shorter, and threw his shoulders back in a "manly fashion", puffing out his chest, clenching his fists at his sides, and sticking out his chin. Obviously he was trying to mock Bill. Then he spun and fell into a "damsel in distress" character, flailing his arm across his forehead and dramatically performing a silent scream. Then, he jumped back up and did the "Bill impression" again, bumping right up into Bill's chest with his own much skinnier one.
Bill was chuckling at this, if not a little sadistically. "That's pretty good," he said to the mime now in his face. The mime continued to posture. Then Bill's smile dropped, and thinking much along the same lines as Beatrix, mocked pulling out a gun from his side and "pointed" it right at the mime's forehead, his pointer finger pressed up against the mime's white painted skin.
The mime played it up, looking terrified and throwing his hands up into the air. With a smirk, Bill "pulled the trigger" and the mime "died" just as dramatically as his cohort had. Although, his act was a little inaccurate and Bill and Beatrix both knew well enough, when shot in the head a person generally did nothing but fall flat out dead.
Bill clapped a few times with exaggerated sarcastic enthusiasm, and then with a slightly irritated look turned his back on the two "dead" mines to look at Beatrix. It seemed the two killers couldn't help but "kill" somebody while they were off duty, so to speak.
Bill was now sifting through the pamphlets, "Well...it was a little difficult deterring the yapping asshole away from the usual tourist stuff, but I found a couple things." He started handing Beatrix a pamphlet at a time, as he read them off to her, "There's this tour of the sewers of Paris. I thought it sounded interesting until I realized that they are still the sewers that are currently being used...." he continued on, "The Paris Plage...the beach, supposed to be nice. The Boulangerie Pioline, which according to the experts is the best bakery in Paris, the Paris zoo...., and I found a couple cemeteries. There's the Montmartre Cemetery, the St. Vincent Cemetery and even...the Cemetery des Chiens....a huge pet cemetery." He paused, left with the last pamphlet, "And then there's the Deyrolle...," he raised an eyebrow and began reading from he pamphlet, "Paris has many unusual shops, but one of the most unusual has to be Deyrolle, a 170-year old establishment on Rue du Bac, not far from the Musee d'Orsay on the Left Bank. To describe it as a taxidermy shop hardly does it justice. The ground floor looks like a fairly ordinary small home and garden shop (apart from a couple of stuffed gazelles standing on their hind legs and dressed to look like humans). But walking up the stairs is like passing through a time warp. The second story (which in France is considered the first) appears to have changed little since the store moved to its current location in 1881. It's dusty, chaotic, and crammed with stuffed animals of all shapes, sizes, and poses, as well as ancient wooden cases full of insects, shells, botanical prints and a variety of curiosities. As the pictures here suggest, it's really a museum masquerading as a store." Bill then handed the pamphlet to the tall blonde, "Weird as hell..."
In the meantime, the two "dead" mimes had resurrected themselves and scampered away, looking not entirely pleased...most likely because they hadn't been tipped.
Bill watched Beatrix, as he crossed his arms over his chest, "There's quite a bit to do beyond that, but none of it seemed like...our thing..." Indeed, the tour guide had tried to dump all sorts of pamphlets on Bill, everything from museums to gay bars, perfume shops to art walks. This was the best Bill could come up with after sorting through the stack of brochures.
"Anything catch your eye?" He asked with a small smile.
Beatrix was browsing over the content on the brochure that Bill had handed her. Slender brows were narrowed and her lips were tight as she ran over the information. She looked up from the brochures to return a fond smile.
"I'd like to see the Musee d'Orsay," she said picking out the brochure from the stack. The actual place didn't catch her fancy but what did was how fucked up it sounded. A museum with big stuffed animals? It sounded pretty cool. "Afterwards we should stop by The Boulangerie Pioline." She didn't suggest any of the cemeteries even though the pet cemetery sounded interesting because they had already seen the ultimate cemetery; the catacombs. Nothing could top that in the means of things that are dead.
She handed the brochures back to Bill to handle. "It's not that far from here. If we hop the bus we should be there before the crowds start."
"Ah, you mean the Deyrolle," Bill replied, taking back the brochures, "It's near the Musee d'Orsay...that's just a droll boring art museum I'm sure." He stuffed the brochures in his back pocket, "I'd rather go for the creepy animals as well." He wasn't all that surprised that she'd chosen the Deyrolle..that's why he'd decided to read a little more about that one. The Boulangerie sounded like a good idea as well. "Alight," he nodded, easily content with the choice.
They headed for the nearest bus stop and within thirty minutes were standing in front of a bizarre looking old wooden building with a number of quite dead animals, that now eerily brought back to stuffed life, were sitting around the front of the store. Which...really wasn't a store anymore, but served more as a museum of oddities.
Holding Beatrix's hand, Bill stood there for a few moments staring at the front of the store...which Beatrix was having a similar reaction to. A pair of gazelles flanked the door, modified to stand on their hind legs and standing dressed in very human attire.
Bill's eyebrow seemed momentarily frozen in an arched position. "For some reason...I think Budd would love this..."
Beatrix smirked wide. "My thoughts exactly."
The couple stood in front of the store agog for a few more minutes before making their way inside. The inside of the store was just as weird as the outside. There were stuffed animals in every crevice of the room. It was quite amusing and Beatrix had a strange sensation to go and hug one of the over stuffed lions with bared teeth but she didn't and only informed Bill that she thought it was cool.
Indeed, the "store" did prove just as weird or weirder than the outside. It was dusty, cluttered, poorly organized...there were all sorts of animals packed into a not very large space. Just about every animal imaginable really. It was a taxidermists dream come true. There was even a second story filled with an even larger assortment of strange and exotic creatures. You name it, it was there. There was even glass cases full of insects pinned down and seemingly just as dead as the rest of the store's animal occupants.
A small amount of people were milling around, but it didn't seem like much of a tourist hot spot. An older woman, who seemed to be the only person working there, shuffled around, lovingly straightening up the animals. She didn't seem to feel the need to dust or do much other cleaning though. Bill found this rather bothersome...he hated messy places. But, it was creepy and amusing enough to let that pet peeve go.
He and Beatrix took their time wandering around both floors, making snide remarks and admiring the amount of time it must have taken to stuff some of the animals so well. They quickly realized the older woman who worked there wasn't paying much attention to the living people...as she seemed far more interested in the dead non-human types. The two killers soon took advantage of this negligence of supervision.
"How do I look?" Bill said to Beatrix with a wicked grin, a massive dead python wrapped around his shoulders.
Beatrix looked over with a raised brow and her head canted to the side. "You look charming," she replied with a grin. She took a step over to Bill and his 'snake', wishing she had remembered to bring the camera. Bill with the dead python wrapped around his shoulders was a classic Kodak moment. She stopped a few feet away from him and her head canted further to the side.
"This goes to show that the Snake Charmer can charm not just his Vipers but a dead stuffed Viper." She crossed arms over her chest idly and pointed out quietly, "If that thing comes alive and tries to kill you I'm going to laugh then…maybe I'll save you."
Bill chuckled, "I appreciate your willingness to perhaps save my life Kiddo," he replied with a smirk as he took a few more moments to posture around with the snake. Reluctantly, he put it back in its spot, which was in between a stuffed hedgehog and an equally dead and stuffed iguana.
The two killers moved onto another grouping of animals and as they mingled around, Bill couldn't help but bring up the morbid discussion of the handful of notorious serial killers who had skinned their victims and in some cases making things such as lamps, furniture and clothing out of them. Bill leaned towards Beatrix, around the large form of a stuffed baby elephant, "Now, that's sadistic," he murmured, thus ending his serial killer monologue.
After an hour or so, they seemed to have made the rounds in the eerie menagerie and found themselves at the back exit, where a small souvenir table booth was placed. An older man, perhaps the husband of the woman they'd seen earlier, was sitting behind the booth, looking as if he was dozing off. Bill stared at the horrid display of souvenirs behind the slumped form of the sleeping man. "Perhaps I should get something for Budd....," Bill grumbled, eyeing the small stuffed rodents and other such bizarre items.
"Or perhaps a stuffed squirrel for Elle?" He laughed, "No...no...forget that..."
The workings of a tentative smirk creased the tall blonde's facial features but it was short lived. She casually sauntered over to the opposite side of the desk and leaned over to examine the small array of souvenirs to choose from. Soon enough she plucked up a miniature dead-bear look a like. It was a miniature grizzly bear; of course, it wasn't a real life one, only a sculpture covered in real grizzly fur.
She inspected the sculpture with a scrutinizing eye and a single white digit traced over the silky coat. Beatrix turned to Bill with the bear in hand. "You should get this for your brother." She raised the bear sculpture to his eye level. She recalled once referring to Budd as a big teddy bear. This wasn't a teddy bear, but it was pretty close.
She then set it on the counter. Her features didn't seem as bright as before but a tad more docile. "You shouldn't buy anything for the others," she stated bluntly with a distant tone level. If she was on better terms with Vernita, she may have brought her this cheetah fur lined leather jacket she saw but she was far from good terms. Beatrix soon came to realize that this was their last day in Paris and they'd have to go home. She felt a strong surge of reluctance to do so. Home meant reality and she didn't want that, not really.
Bill gave the teddy bear a reluctant look. But, in some odd way...it did seem rather Budd-like. He nodded silently at Beatrix, agreeing with her that he should buy nothing for the others. While Bill was hardly as angry at the rest of the Viper's as Beatrix was, he certainly was not happy with their recent behavior and thus felt they did not need any rewards, even cheesy souvenirs.
After rousing the rather cranky sleepy old man behind the counter, Bill paid for the small bear, which thankfully the man put in a bag, and they left the Deyrolle and headed for the The Boulangerie Pioline, which was just a few blocks away. As they walked there, Bill wrapped an arm around Beatrix's shoulders, realizing just as she was, that their time in Paris was quickly coming to a close. Bill was a workaholic, and he was looking forward to getting back to work. But, the urge to stay here, with Beatrix was far stronger. He could have stayed here with her for eternity....well...maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. But, either way, he didn't want to have to sacrifice the time he could be spending with her for other things....and that's exactly what returning home meant.
They easily found the Boulangerie, which was quite a bit more crowded than the Deyrolle. They ended up having to stand in line for almost twenty minutes, but this time was well spent between the two of them as they talked amongst themselves. Finally, they reached the counter, and after ordering a few choice pastry items, found a small table for two in the corner of the crowded restaurant.
Bill picked moodily at the filled croissant on his plate, it wasn't that it wasn't good...it was superb actually, but the reality of leaving had dawned on him and he didn't like it. He gave Beatrix a tight smile across the table, his facial expression speaking his mind instead of spoken words.
And Beatrix had gotten much better at reading his facial expressions. She picked up the half eaten portion of one of her pastries and took a small bite. It was very good, the best pastry she had had, but she wasn't enjoying it as much. They were supposed to make this last day in Paris memorable and it had been, until they both began dawning on home.
Beatrix shifted in her chair and rubbed her pastry stained fingers on the napkin. Intense blue eyes turned to the man across the table. She didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon in sour moods. They needed something to brighten the mood. A light went off in the tall blonde's pretty blonde head. "The next assignment you send me on better be an easy one. I haven't killed anything in a week," her voice was low enough and the crowd was loud enough that no one gave a shit what they were talking about.
Deep down Beatrix wanted to go home and deep down she did want to kill something again. It was a natural drive, a drug that you could withdraw from, but going through that withdrawal would be hard but it wouldn't be impossible to do. As she had been through a withdrawal during their time in Paris, she had easily forgotten about her alternate life but at the same time she couldn't store it all away.
She raised a mocking finger at him adding, "And, the mime does not count."
Fucking mimes. Bill chuckled, his dour expression momentarily fading away. "I promise, I'll send you on an easy assignment...something that involves a large number of hapless morons that you can easily dispose of in whatever bloody methods you feel inclined to."
If anybody could understand how Beatrix felt when it came to missing the act of killing, it was Bill. It was in comments like that, that Bill truly knew that Beatrix was a natural born killer. Weird thing was, he didn't miss killing all that much right now. Maybe it was because he'd done it so much throughout his lifetime, the high had begun to sear off, or maybe it was because he didn't kill as frequently as the rest of the Vipers on a regular basis. Bill loved killing, adored it really....but he'd reached a point, where he could momentarily let it go for stronger drives.
Now, that being said, he really wanted to shoot something.
Instead, he picked up his half eaten croissant and examined its filled innards. "Things will be....hectic....when we return." In fact, Bill had some plans that he'd been processing for sometime, that he would put into action once they returned. It would only make things crazier for everybody. But, he didn't want to discuss that here...not now. It was best to savor those moments away from business for a long as possible.
He gave Beatrix a genuine smile, "You'll be back to killing soon Kiddo...I assure you..." It made him happy to know that Beatrix missed killing, again...it only confirmed his beliefs in her.
They finished eating in a lighter mood and agreed to walk that incredibly good but rich meal off as they discussed how to spend their last afternoon and evening in Paris.
"I ate too much," Beatrix confessed as the couple stepped back into the hotel room. They had just gotten back from a lovely dinner at an even lovelier restaurant. The restaurant was a typical restaurant one would find in Paris but it was ranked as one of the more exquisite ones. Beatrix and Bill had an incentive to enjoy themselves and thus doing this they ordered a great deal of food. They wouldn't be able to dine or eat like this back in Mexico, so it was best to indulge while they had the chance. The dinner conversation was pleasant and light making the end of the afternoon a worthy memorable experience.
Before heading back to the hotel they enjoyed the numerous fountains that were lit up at night. Bill tried to coax Beatrix into throwing a coin into one of the wishing fountains that were surrounded by other couples doing so. She finally complied after Bill threatened her most seriously that he would throw 'her' in if she didn't throw the fucking dime in.
And then they ended up back at the hotel. Beatrix was worn, but she wasn't tired. It had been a long and enjoyable day and she planned to make the rest of it just as enjoyable. She wasn't going to sleep any time soon. "I'm going to go wash up and then pack," she stated as if Bill really needed to know this itinerary and closed the bathroom door.
"Hrm," was Bill's mellow response as he watched Beatrix with a warm gaze as she disappeared into the bathroom. Always one to be prepared to leave, he turned to his own task of packing.
The rest of the afternoon and evening had transpired wonderfully. They had seen a few more sights as they walked around between meals. Dinner had been amazing, some of the best food Bill had ever had, and the fountains had proved to be both pleasant and amusing. While this day had perhaps been less eventful than some of their others in Paris, it would remain one of the most memorable in his mind. Likewise, he would never forget this trip.
Slowly and methodically folding his clothing, he packed up his suitcase, leaving the things he would need for the next day aside. He meticulously packed up his camera and film, not wanting anything to happen to the pictures he'd taken.
Bill went all about this in a calm, resolved and good mood. Sure, the thought of getting back to their "normal" lives was a little depressing, after the overall great week they'd spent away, but there was nothing quite like going home. Bill loved what he did for a living, it was a good life and he wouldn't have traded it for anything. Beatrix had been right when she'd called his bluff earlier in the week, on "giving it all up." Bill knew deep down, he'd grow to loathe a life away from what he was born to do. He'd created the life he lived now with a great amount of toil, and these were the best years...when it was all really paying off. Besides, it wasn't as if he wouldn't see Beatrix again. She would still be with him. They wouldn't have as much time together as they'd had this week.....but they'd still have each other. This trip had strengthened their still growing intimate relationship and Bill couldn't see it ending anytime soon. In fact, he was more than optimistic about how things would transpire once they got home.
Carefully folding one last shirt, he set it on top of the clothing in the open suitcase. Then, retrieving his flute from the small table by the patio, he gently packed it in-between his clothing. Then, he removed his watch, two rings, necklace and laid them onto of his already removed wallet, pocket knife, money clip and sunglasses. Bill always laid out his personal items in the same order and in the same configuration. Right now, he just had the bare minimum, but even with more items, there was always a particular way he arranged them. It was one of those personality quarks that took some observation to pick up on.
He turned to see Beatrix packing as well, and offered her a contented smile. Like him, she had learned how to pack for speed and utmost spatial capacity....well he'd been the one to show her that, years ago, as her teacher and mentor. Strange, how some things never changed, while others did.
It didn't take Beatrix long to stack up her belongings into her duffle bag and put aside the necessities for the coming day. As taught she could have all her belongings packed away in two minutes tops. But that was when being proper with folding wasn't necessary. That type of packing caused a shit load of wrinkles and even if Bea wasn't a stickler for neat clothes that got her a tad irritated. Well, this time she took her time packing which was a total of ten minutes. In those ten minutes she didn't do as much thinking as Bill seemed to have done. She let her mind wander briefly to the idea of going back home earlier in the day and she had no plans to 'distress' herself any more. She didn't want to deal with reality just yet.
Once finished she joined Bill's side. He had long since finished packing and was now sitting on the floor, Indian-style, beside his closed suitcase. She sat down and mocked his posture. This didn't last long as she nonchalantly as well as affectionately let her head fall to his shoulder. She wanted to say something but nothing came to mind to fill the moment adequately, so she stayed silent and docile.
Bill had been catching a few moments of meditation, when Beatrix sat down beside him and in turn rested her head on his shoulder. He loved that, he always had...and she knew he did. He kept his eyes closed for a few more moments, a small smile touching his lips. It was almost funny how calm, clear and docile they could be together and then....be so cruel, passionate and ferocious with each other. But, if one really thought about it, it made perfect sense.
Finally, opening his eyes, Bill turned his head down slightly to rest against Beatrix's. His hand, that had been resting on his knee, lifted and he pulled her closer to his side. His arm remained wrapped around her waist, holding her securely. His kissed the side of her head, blonde hair soft against his rough cheek. He went through all of these motions slowly, not wanting to break the calm moment. Bill wanted to speak, that was probably not a big surprise. He wanted to tell her how much he'd enjoyed the week and how much it had meant to him. But, he also knew that his talking...with sometimes a tendency to ramble, might just get in the way. So, he resigned to be quiet and just held her like that. She knew how he felt....he knew...that she knew....well, either way....he was sure he didn't need to really speak those words, not right now at least. Beatrix always responded better with actions anyways.
Beatrix and Bill remained in their blissful calm for an eternity when it was actually only five minutes. The tall blonde hadn't been tired before, but now settled in Bill's arms, where she felt strangely protected and safe she felt her body growing weary as the day caught up on her. As fucking scary as Bill could be, he could be just as sweet. Not nice, Bill was never nice, but he was sweet. There was that sweetness that emerged when he put his arm around her and they sat there together feeding off a forbidden and dangerous love for one another.
These were the happier memories she'd never completely lock away, just as she'd never lock away the memories of Paris. It would always be prominent in the deep recesses of her mind and no matter how unhappy she would be feeling, looking back on those memories would always make her happier.
She finally lifted her head up from Bill's shoulder and instead leaned in to give him a soft and loving kiss.
Bill returned the kiss with an equal amount of tenderness, eyes once again shutting with this contact. Without really even consciously thinking about it, his free arm rose up from his knee and his hand traced a soft line down her jaw line.
He had never and would never quite get over the reality of how beautiful Beatrix was, how....amazingly sexy she was. He'd been with allot of beautiful and sexy women...but there was something more to Beatrix, that was just almost too good to be true. Maybe it was, that underneath all of that beauty and sex appeal she was as deadly as he was. He had to admit that was something of a turn on....something....heh no…..it was hot as hell. But more than that, underneath all of that beauty....he loved her. He realized that loving her had really nothing to do with her looks. It certainly was one of the keys to his attraction to her, but he'd been attracted to her from day one. Yet, he hadn't of loved her because of that. Love and attraction were too different topics as he'd mentioned to her the day before....but Bill didn't want to think back to that.
Instead...he thought of this moment...and kissed her again, his hand falling from her jaw line to the scoop of her long neck. This kiss was a little less sentimental than the first, but it still remained on the softer side of things.
When it came down to intimate physical attraction Beatrix loved it to be on the softer side. Some would think that a woman such as her, a killer, would like it rough and dominating but she was far from that. Sure, maybe she had acted that way with other men, who she had fucked for the hell of it but with Bill she felt no need to. Perhaps this was due to the fact she was 'rough' with him in other means of the word that she saw no need to project that during these 'moments'.
So she leaned into the progressing kisses and savored them. Her hands came up to nonchalantly cup against his face before running into his hair. In the process of further kisses and contact she shifted onto her knees and turned towards him, face to face, this made it easier.
Her hands shifted to his shoulders as she inched in closer to his body as body heat began to exchange and heighten between them. Of course she couldn't have come up with a better way to finish off their trip to Paris then romantic sexual interaction and beyond.
There had been a few moments there, where things had been on the "casual contact" side of the fence, but much to Bill's delight, things had just crossed that line. She was getting good at figuring out those little things that he loved. He loved it when she touched his face like that and he also loved it when she ran her fingers through his hair. Bill had had long hair ever since he'd been sixteen or so. It had gone through various phases of lengths throughout his life, but it had always been long enough for women to do just what Beatrix was doing. He had to admit it was one of the motives to having it, besides it being "cool" of course.
He was still sitting cross legged and Beatrix had just moved around to face him, which certainly was more comfortable. As things quickly heated up between the two of them, which always seemed to happen rather quickly, he pulled her completely against him, closing the small amount of distance that had been left between them. Now, in an even more intimate posture, things progressed at a doubled rate. Bill didn't even attempt to intellectualize things, as he had a tendency to do. He turned things over to pure instinct and wanting. He couldn't think of a better way to spend their last night in Paris, and he was going to make sure that there was no amount of dissatisfaction involved.
With Beatrix how she was, he was now leaned up against the side of the bed for back support. He didn't want to not be kissing her for one second, and had thus far kept pretty true to this. His hands were everywhere, he'd lost track....and didn't care to even bother to keep it. He did manage to mumble, "I love you....so much," in her ear, before going back to kissing her.
Beatrix smiled against his lips before connecting with something more passionate. She loved him too, and she knew that he knew that she did. She wouldn't be doing this if she didn't love him. She had made that clear months back. But now she loved, and once you loved someone it was smooth from there on out…well, usually.
The heat was rising at a smoldering rate and Beatrix only intensified it by removing her top. This usually indicated that her other 'body parts' were lacking attention. Bill knew how to make everything satisfied. Her long neck craned to the side for easier kissing access and blue hues came half lidded as she melted in.
She loved him, and this, and how perfect it was. But she began to feel too stoic and too content, so that her body was sending out signals to get the pace moving again. She had been given enough attention when it came to kisses and thus they had to move on. Beatrix insisted this by helping Bill remove excess clothing.
It didn't take much for Bill to get the message that Beatrix was through with pure making out....she wanted to get down to business. Well, that was not exactly a difficult sell. Bill was as willing to comply to that as he was if given a chrome Magnum and a living target to shoot. Ok, perhaps not the most tasteful comparison, but needless to say Bill was more than happy to grant her wish.
He watched her with a blisteringly hot look, as she unbuttoned his shirt and he easily shrugged it off. He once again, pulled her towards him and starting with her neck worked his way down...giving attention to every exposed surface that was available. During his, he smoothly removed her bra without even a moment of struggle or hesitation, in other words, like a man who'd undid many bras in his lifetime. He incorporated this new exposure of flesh to his rather....intense attentions. In Bill's mind, there wasn't a woman alive, who didn't like that and he was probably right.
Thankfully, this time Beatrix was not wearing a pair of tight jeans, but instead she was wearing....or....had been wearing, before Bill tossed them aside, a pair of loose sweatpants. She had had to move back a bit to get them off and once they were removed, he pulled her back into his lap. He then set out to give attention to every inch of her that he'd neglected previously.
Bill was amazing when it came to delivering attention to those deprived places. Whoever said older men had more experience was more then correct, but Beatrix wasn't one to gloat upon the fact that her man knew exactly how to please, but it was a nice bonus. Bill knew she was enjoying this due to the muttered jumble of words, or was it sounds, that were escaping from her half way parted lips.
Well, Beatrix was certainly getting her dose of pleasure, but it wasn't nice to be greedy. Although she was sure Bill was getting his own from it, she wanted to be fair. She knew just how to play fair at least when it came to pleasing one's partner, on other occasions she played far from fair. Her body shifted a little to gain a better position upon his lap before she moved on to the next step.
Somewhere along the road of their numerous 'sexual encounters' they had gained a routine. It wasn't a typical routine of things that had to be done in a particular order, at a certain time, but more of a round of actions that were given throughout the process. Bill kissing her in places she loved was part of the routine, when her long white digits began to idly, gingerly, and affectionately trace along his chest, that was part of the routine.
She loved tracing the scars that adorned his body. This was very odd if one was to look at it in a different perspective. To Beatrix it was completely normal. By now she knew were each raised bump, jagged line, and faded line was placed without having to look (this came in handy when Bill was kissing her neck and she couldn't look down). When her fingers came to the raised surface of skin along his side she knew exactly what that was from as she knew were the line on his collar bone came from. Some of the scars she wasn't sure but she kept a note in the back of her mind to ask him later. For now she just let her mind and thoughts melt away.
Like Beatrix, Bill was very aware of the "routine" of their lovemaking. Some might think that this concept sounded boring, but for them it was far, far from it. It was simply a matter of them having picked up on what the other liked and capitalizing on that to the fullest. Bill looked forward to Beatrix tracing his numerous scars, he always found it a major turn on. Every other woman he'd been with had tended to shy away from touching those scars, which was really something of a bummer to him, since as he'd gotten older they had doubled and even tripled in number. But Beatrix took to them quite nicely and he couldn't be happier about that.
From her body language and the sounds she was making he knew he was doing everything quite right, as if he even had a shadow of a doubt in his mind about that anyways, Bill was as confident when it came to sex as he was when it came to hand to hand combat, swordplay, firearms and so on.....and that was pretty goddamn confident.
His reactions became a little more heated as Beatrix continued her tactile run of his scars, and it wasn't long before he felt a definite need to continue to move things along. With a few shifting movements, and thankfully no mood breaking maneuvers, both of them managed to remove what little clothing they had left on.
Back to the position where they'd started, things only got more intense and very quickly Bill's lust laden mind began racing. Like most men, he was always trying to figure out how to "make things work" and how they were, like this, could work. But, in the end, Bill was still rather "old school" when it came to sex. Clasping onto Beatrix's lower back, he leaned forward and gently let her down onto her back. This movement put him just about where he wanted to be, and taking a moment to grasp onto her knees for leverage, he got down to the business he felt he was even better at.
This time around their love making was more casual and gentle. For being the deadliest people in the world, they sure as hell could act like the sweetest and most genial sexual partners. Some would find this boring but for them it was perfect and thus, ended their last night in Paris more then perfectly.
It was completely 'old school' except for the minor factor that they did it on the floor. Hell, there was a plush carpet and it felt nice against bare skin, so there were no complaints. Besides, it added to the fun and bizarre factor.
Once the 'task' was concluded the disheveled blonde reached up a hand, fingers curled around the sheet on the bed, and pulled it down. The white sheet gracefully draped over the two naked and sweat glistening bodies that were now cuddled beside one another. Both were not as hot as last time, and after sex cuddling was a happily taken next step. Beatrix was still on her back but, Bill was beside her on his own back and she tilted her head to settle in the crook of his shoulder quite comfortably. She was quiet for the time being, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to 'chat' a little later on she needed to catch her breath first.
Bill casually wrapped his arm under her shoulders, as she rested her head against him. Once again....it had been great, it always was. Some people just had bad sex now and then, but that had yet to happen with them thus far.
There was a wonderful sense of finality to their whole trip with that completed. The floor had not exactly been the intended place, it had just sorta happened that way. But then again....Bill found it rather amusing that they'd neglected to use the massive luxurious bed that had been supplied for them, and opted for the almost equally as luxurious carpet. Bill, like most typical warm blooded men, didn't have much preference in location, as long as he was having sex.
Like Beatrix, he was more than a little out of breath, and he didn't speak for a few minutes as he gently stroked the mass of tousled blonde hair falling over his shoulder. He stared up a the ceiling, which he realized for the first time, was inlayed with intricate swirling patterns of white and burgundy. He then spent a few moments, wiping the sheen of sweat off of his face with his free hand, as he continued to catch his breath.
He then glanced down at her. She looked completely docile, eyes heavily hooded, but not shut. He squeezed her shoulders a little tighter to him, as he brushed some stray bangs off of her forehead, "This is a damn comfortable floor," he quipped in a somewhat hoarse tone of voice. But he quickly grew a little more serious and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
Beatrix let out a light laugh of amusement, but it was short lived as she wasn't putting much energy into it. "That it is," she breathed and slipped her arms out from under the covers to settle on top. She was gradually beginning to cool down and she knew Bill was as well. The body heat exchanging between the two bodies wasn't nearly as intense as before and was tapering off to a pleasant temperature.
It took another five minutes before both killers had recovered, and even then Beatrix felt weary. She effortlessly rolled over to her side, bent an elbow, and propped her chin up with an open palm. Blue eyes gazed down fondly at the man beside her. She kept that docile façade with a warm smile plastered across her face. Even a complete moron could see that she had greatly enjoyed what had just transpired.
Beatrix stared at him for a time before she methodically used her free hand to retrace a scar on Bill's halfway exposed chest, the rest was covered by the sheet. She traced along a rigged line of raised skin that was on the right and just below his rib cage. That pretty blonde head canted to the side. "Where's this from?"
Bill looked at her for a long moment, he had been zoning out, just looking at her with blatant affection, and he was a little taken by the randomness of the question, but being rather random himself, he quickly got on track. He glanced down at where she was exactly pointing at, obviously having to jar his memory somewhat. "Ah, that one...." he said slowly, propping himself on an elbow, mirroring Beatrix's position. "I got that in Japan." In fact, a majority of Bill's scars had been accumulated while in Japan. Those were his most violent years afterall. There were rumors that Bill had spent a good amount of years with the yakuza. But he seemed to remain rather vague on the whole thing and simply let people decide for themselves. Of course, Beatrix, having seen his small sentimental office, could probably confirm that rumor, after viewing a number of the pictures on the walls.
Knowing this, Bill decided to elaborate, after all, he did enjoy talking about these sorts of things, "I was on an assignment...there was a rival gang, younger...less experienced. I had clear orders to make a full sweep of this particular group of individuals. I was in charge of a small group myself...," he paused, trying to reorganize his thoughts, "Anyways...we were ambushed...it was nighttime I believe, I was attacked from behind, chock hold," he made a dramatic chocking gesture on himself to emphasize, "This fucker had a knife, it wasn't big...but, as I soon found out...quite sharp. I tried to get out of the hold, and he brought the knife around...I think he was trying to get me right in the heart. That was a stupid idea, there was no way his knife was big enough to manage that...either way, I moved just in time and he got me right there.." he prodded at the scar, "..right under my floating rib...I was lucky nothing vital got punctured. The knife got stuck there though, and that gave me just enough time to turn around and break his neck..." He stared down at the scar for a moment, "...I remember I was wearing a white jacket..." His gaze rose back up to Beatrix, "I went through a white jacket phase...it was the late 70's," a chuckle, "By the time we got back to headquarters...I had bled everywhere....funny thing was...it didn't hurt all that much, at that time. But I do remember waking up the next day in agony..." He shrugged, "But, that's just the way things were back then.....I'm sure you can relate," he smiled, tugging playfully at her ear.
"Of course," she tilted her head more to the side to try and evade his ear tugging, but the contented smile on her face showed she didn't mind all that much. Beatrix could more then relate to walking around with a crucial wound as if it were a mere paper cut and then be in agony the following day. She didn't have as many prominent wounds as Bill, but she had some pretty nice ones.
She nonchalantly lifted up her unoccupied arm and held it in front of Bill, in a diagonal position to where they lay. "See that," she nodded her chin to the very faint etched line of discolored pigment on the back of her arm, just below the bend in her elbow. "I was fifteen and playing around," she didn't indicate what playing around entailed as she wasn't going to be too specific on this story. "Somehow, can't rightly remember how, I smashed a window and shattered glass was all over. I slipped and fell in the pile. It wasn't till two days later that I noticed the shard of glass embedded right there." She made a small grimace as slender brows narrowed. Her lips tightened. "The second I took that fucker out it was the worst pain I'd felt. Or so that was what I thought."
She shifted to settle back onto her back and blue eyes stared up at him somewhat distantly, but she was there. "But, sometimes I compare being shot and stabbed to a shard of glass and…I still believe that glass was the worst."
Bill looked impressed by this. Of course, he wasn't so surprised to know that even at fifteen, Beatrix had an amazingly high pain tolerance. But still, walking around for two days, with a massive shard of glass in one's arm was pretty goddman hardcore. It only confirmed what he'd known about her the first time he'd met her.
"Jesus.." he chuckled, shaking his head a little, eyes focused on the scar she'd just explained. He could only imagine what sort of "playing around" a fifteen year old could be doing that would result in a smashed window....actually he didn't need to imagine, he no doubt could recall.
He nodded after a moment, "Getting stabbed...glass..whatever...is far worse than gunshot wounds See this," he rolled over briefly to show her that gunshot wound on his right shoulder, "Got that when I was twenty....just went clean through," he searched for the entrance wound scar on the front side of the shoulder, but it was harder to find and he gave up after a moment. "I just kept right on going....I was probably high and so pumped up it was easy to ignore. But," he gave her a serious tilt of the head, "As you know, that's not always the case...but still...I find bullets easier to contend with than sharp edges myself."
This wasn't exactly the typical "pillow talk" conversation that most couples shared, but the two killers never gave a second thought to the strangeness of it.
Beatrix enjoyed this type of pillow talk even if they weren't even on pillows. They were both more then mellow, and the events from earlier left them equally exhausted, which left the limits of conversation in a safe territory. She tilted her head up and hues searched his shoulder. She had no luck finding the entrance wound and thus gave up as Bill had. She leveled eyes back on him.
"Agreed. Unless the bullet is dug in deep and pressing on an artery they are much easier to brush aside. A stab wound tears a larger portion of flesh and the blood escapes no matter where you manage to get cut. Not to mention a stab wound can often assure a slow and painful death," she stated this all matter-of-factly, but with an ounce of amusement.
The tall blonde then turned more serious as arms crossed over her stomach region. "But…" a trail off to gather her words. "If I had to choose… I'd want it quick. Nothing shitty like bleeding to death. Someone could bust a cap in my crown…That or a poison and I'd be content." A timid smirk played across her face as she brought up a finger to idly trace over his jaw line.
Bill smiled slightly under her tracing finger. He looked quite fascinated by Beatrix's choice to bring up her preferred "way to go", mainly because he was morbid like that...and it was a subject he'd thought a bit about himself over the years/
He pressed her fingers to his face with his own, as he fell into deep thought for a moment. "I don't want to die...some old....," he smirked at her,"...older man...sad and weak...in my sleep like so many people seem to find so comforting. No....I don't even want to get close to reaching that point." His gaze became slightly unfocused as his thoughts turned inward, "I would prefer....," he spoke slowly, obviously putting a lot of thought into this, "...to die with honor....," Bill was a killer, but he still believed in honor, "A big battle...an old school swordfight...on a beach, or maybe a picturesque mountain....somewhere beautiful...,peaceful," he got dramatic, the voice was a dead giveaway, "Bloody...brutal....with just a touch of humor and irony thrown in. I would have to be killed by somebody worthy of killing me..." He seemed very sure on this idea; even if it was something he had really no control over. "No guns...it has to be swords." He nodded, as if that was indeed his 'final answer', but then paused, giving Beatrix a coy look, "If not that...well, than I want to die having the fuck of my life...," he flashed a wicked smile, "I'd take that as a very close second.."
Beatrix laughed. Yes, that sounded very much like a Bill way to die. She stored this in the back of her mind. She lingered on his past words a moment before blinking out of her reverie and coming to a quick conclusion. She rolled onto her stomach this time and propped her upper body up with bent elbows. Her head craned in his direction as locks of now unruly blonde hair fell in mismatched directions.
She turned cross and serious in that flicker of a second. "Wait," she began slowly. "You aren't dead." She poked a single digit against his chest playfully to reassure that he was indeed still alive. She dropped her fingers back down and her chin tilted down, brows arched. Blue eyes flickered with a tint of damage as if he had really just killed her ego. "Are you telling me that all of the fucks you've had with me have not been the 'fuck of your life'?"
Bill laughed, quite heartily, brown eyes dancing with amusement. He knew she was going to play that card the moment the words had left his mouth.
He placed his hands on the sides of her face, drawing her in closer and looking at her intensely, "Baby....," he began with deliverance, "I've had to check my pulse every single time." He seemed quite serious about this. Indeed, they had all been the 'fucks of his life', but if that was to be his way to go, then apparently he was still holding out, out of sheer will...and the utmost desire to live onto the next 'fuck of his life.' He continued to hold her face like this, intensely speaking to her, "And you know what, if that ever happens...I will count myself the most goddamn lucky murdering bastard that has ever lived, or will ever live." He was smiling but it was with a serious genuine sincerity, "I can only hope.....your face is the last thing I ever see Kiddo.....that....that is what I would want more than anything."
Beatrix smiled from ear to ear, a real rare smile that showed off pearly whites. This soon washed over into a straight faced serious smile. Bright blue eyes locked with his. "I'll try my hardest to make sure you do." She wasn't going to promise it out loud, but she did silently in her head. One way or another she'd be the last one there, even if it wasn't in the manner in which she had originally perceived she'd be there.
Her forehead dipped down to rest affectionately against Bill's. She wasn't one to take things to heart, but what he had just said she took in full stride. She didn't need to tell him it was sweet as the sparkling in her eyes was a dead give away. But the moment passed and she settled back down on the floor.
Slender brows furrowed. "Goddamnit, I don't think I will be able to will my limbs to move." She turned her head to him. "Suppose we're sleeping on the floor tonight."
Bill raised his eyebrows, "Hrm, I suppose we are," he gave her a small smile and then sitting up, he reached over her and with one vicious yank, pulled one of the silk covers off of the already messed up bed coverings. Once the cover had been arranged on them, he reached back over to the bed and pulled down two pillows. There were about twenty on the bed, and it was rather easy to find some close enough to grab.
If Beatrix had been joking about the whole idea, Bill seemed to think it was a rather good one, and made sure it was going to be even more comfortable. He'd slept on many floors in his lifetime, and this carpet was practically a mattress anyways. But, most of all...he didn't want to move, he liked he and Beatrix just like this. It seemed like an odd but appropriate way to sleep on their last night there.
Once everything was settled, he laid back down, nestling up against.....his woman. Her skin, to him, seemed far softer then the silk blanket. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and wrapped his arm around her torso, holding her close against him. Again, he wanted to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, he just watched her adoringly as they both began to drift off to sleep, tired from not only from their recent activities, but from their entire week in Paris.