Chapter Twenty-Seven
"What is THIS?"
Mark sighed wearily, although he was smiling inside. Roger had just walked into their loft, and halted when he looked up. He was giving Mark an appalled look.
"I redecorated- just for tonight!" said Mark quickly, as Roger slowly stepped into their living room. His jaw was open as his eyes gazed from wall to wall.
Mark had spent all day adorning the living room with new accessories, and furnishing their run-of-the-mill sofas and tables with more color and jazz. He was able to get all these things from previous independent films and projects when he was just getting familiar with film and cinematography, so he was lucky he kept them. He had cloaked three enormous violet drapes over the windows, but he tied the ends so the afternoon sunlight streamed through. The couch was cloaked with an Arabian carpet, and on each end were two huge pillows embroidered with beads and fine traditional stitching. There were vanilla scented candles perched everywhere, not many, but enough to light a gentle dim. Right in the middle of the living room was their small dining table with a simple white table cloth hanging a third from the floor. There was a rose set in the middle, and plates set for two.
"What's that smell?" asked Roger, sniffing the air.
"Oh, I've got something on the stove that I want you to try," said Mark.
Roger shook his head viciously. "No mas! No mas!" He grinned as Mark gave him a weird look. "I've been learning a few words from Mimi."
"One more dish. Shrimp." Mark went into the kitchen to check on his food.
"I've been eating your cooking for the past two weeks for this stupid dinner, and frankly Mark, I'm sick of it," he said plainly. He was looking over their loft again, this time with a huge grin on his face. "I've never seen this place look so... nice. You have to take a shot of this."
"What?" asked Mark, turning the knob on the stove, reducing the flame.
"Get your camera!" said Roger. Mark went over to him, a bit confused and saw Roger sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed on top of the cushions. "Look... high-classed."
Mark shook his head, laughing. He took his camera rested upon its tripod into the living room, and panned across. "May 13, 6:30PM give or take a minute. We screen, Roger sitting on a Middle Eastern culture and arts theme couch specially recreated for Miss Johnson's birthday. Cut." He turned it off.
"If you're not going to taste my cooking, then you have to get out," said Mark.
"I'll go, I'll go," said Roger getting up, "I'd rather not die tonight anyway. When can I get home?" Mark gave him a look and Roger smiled. "I'll come back in the morning."
"Good idea," replied Mark as he shooed his friend away. He closed the door, and wondered what else he had to do. Think Mark, he told himself. Okay finish cooking, get dressed, wrap her gift. He still had plenty to do and about three and a half hours to do it. He had mailed Maureen flowers that day telling her to come at exactly 11PM for a surprise dinner. He hoped he could do everything on time.
Three hours. Three hours left, and Mark was already panicking. He couldn't figure out what he wanted to cook, so he cooked New York styled steak, cinnamon dipped shrimp, Alfredo fettuccini, and dessert. Okay so the themes didn't match, but Mark was too excited, too nervous, to care. He tried to remember everything Maureen liked, and well... she liked being diverse. Of course, he figured that out instantly. For all he knew, she could be in the mood for anything, so it was better to be safe than sorry. He wanted everything to be perfect, and it wasn't helping that he was sweating like a pig.
Two hours. Two hours left and he finally finished wrapping the present. It took him a while to wrestle with the scotch tape and the gift wrapper, which seemed to have a mind of its own. He had just taken a shower and gotten dressed. He was wearing a suit, black pants with a white long-sleeved dress shirt. He didn't want to wear a tie, since they weren't going anywhere, and just threw on his black suit jacket quickly. He gelled his hair for the first time ever, not counting the time Collins had put on that godforsaken grease on him. Now it actually looked alright. It was a bit messy and parts of his hair veiled over his face which gave him a dorky rock look, since he still had his glasses on. This was the best he could do, and he hoped that it was enough for Maureen. He was so nervous, he was nearly shaking.
One hour. One hour left, and the steak wasn't even ready. He had taken off his jacket, and threw it hastily on his chair at the table. The heat and smoke from the kitchen made him feel a bit hot, so he undid the top three buttons on his shirt, which bore a bit of his skin. He also rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and opened a window for a bit more breeze. The drapes were still tied, and the moonlight replaced the sun. When the steaks began to sizzle, he threw on a red apron that read "Kiss the Cook" to keep from getting dirty. At that moment he came to realize something shocking. To do all this, thought Mark hopelessly, I really must love the girl...
Five minutes. Five minutes left and his noodles were still on the stove! Gah! He had taken off his glasses because it kept steaming up, so he was half blind when a knock came at the door. He stumbled over the chair, and quickly put on his eyeglasses. He ran to the windows and shut the one that was open. He untied the drapes so it would cover the moonlight, and it became a bit more dim. The candles were lit, and soft music played in the background. He threw his apron off and tossed it near the counter. Please, please, begged Mark silently, let me not make a fool of myself.
He made his way to the door and opened it. His heart lifted, then froze into place. There in the doorway stood of what he considered was the most gorgeous creature on Earth. A lump got stuck in his throat as he admired Maureen's beauty. It almost felt like the first time they met. He thought she was stunning, and he couldn't get two words out. And now, it felt the same way, but he tried all his might to be strong.
"Wow... Maureen..." That was all he could say. No good evening, or hello.
Maureen stood there with a slight curve upon her gentle red lips. Her dress was of a dark ruby hugging her in all the right places, revealing her slender curves, as her collar wrapped around her swan-like neck. Her hair showered down her shoulders, straight and shiny, illuminating her beautiful hazel-colored eyes.
"Come in," said Mark dully, and let her enter. She walked in, and Mark's eyes sparkled. Her back was totally bare, her dark hair streaming along her milky light skin like silk. A nice crease ran long her back that made Mark feel almost faint. He gulped.
"So I got these flowers this morning with a note..." she started, turning to him as he closed the door. "... from one Mark Cohen who invited me here for an early birthday surprise... do you know anything about it?" She looked at him closely, holding up a small note, and smiled.
"No not at all," he said, quickly snatching the piece of paper, crumpling it, and throwing it over his shoulder. "I hope you're surprised." He leaned over to kiss her. "You couldn't possibly look any more beautiful."
"Thanks," she said. She tugged on his shirt a bit, straightening it out fondly. "You look good too."
He smiled meekly. "Thanks."
She looked around, her eyes dancing around the new living room. "What the hell happened here? It actually looks good for a change." Her eyes met his, and she smiled. "You did all this?"
He returned her smile. "Yeah... well... I wanted it to be romantic enough."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him. "I love it. I love you." Mark held her tight, not wanting to let go, and responded, "I love you too." He pulled away slowly, and steadily traced his hand on her shoulder, and down her arm. He held her hand, and kissed the back of it. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to finish cooking."
This took her by surprised. "Excuse me?" He merely grinned, and went into the kitchen. He stirred the noodles a bit, and it seemed that she followed him in.
"What are you doing?" she asked, still in shock.
"Cooking. Is there something wrong?"
"Marky... you cooked? I... I don't know what to say! I didn't even know you knew how to cook!"
"I don't!" he grinned proudly. "But I think I did well. I practiced on Roger a few times. He got food poisoning once or twice, but by the fifth try, he didn't throw up." All jesting aside, he kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, you'll love it."
"I know I will," she responded smiling. "And now that I know that you're handy in the kitchen, I think I'll keep you!"
A bit of water splattered from the pot, and he moved back a bit. He grabbed the red apron, and threw it on him, trying to avoid Maureen's sexy stares. He started to feel a bit nervous again inside, but he focused on cooking... haha, right... cooking...
"Pasta," he answered her thoughts. "It's the only thing left. Everything else is ready, see." He pointed to the counter, which laid a dish of steaks, shrimp, and a bowl covered with a white and blue handkerchief. "Just need to finish the noodles. Sauce is all ready."
"Well leave it for a second, and come here," she said, as she took the tong away, and set it down. She interlaced her fingers with his, and pulled him close for a lingering kiss. Mark liked that, her strawberry fragrance spoiling the air redolently.
Once they pulled away Mark asked, "What was that for?"
"Your apron told me to do it," she said huskily, "so I did."
"You are so vulnerable to advertisements." He kissed her once more. "Now go sit down, and I'll be done in a minute." He grabbed the shrimp dish from the counter, hoping to distract her. He picked a shrimp. "Here. It's good."
"No I wanna wait for you. You want me to take it there?"
He pulled it out of reach, away from her. "No!" He didn't want her to lift a finger. This was her birthday dinner, and he just wanted her to enjoy. He pouted. "Take one. Please? They're appetizers."
"Okay," she said reluctantly, and he fed her a shrimp. She chewed and swallowed thoughtfully and smiled. "Hey that's pretty good! I'm definitely keeping you now!"
"Hey, I'm not your slave!" he said teasingly, and walked over to the dinner table to lay the dish down. He pulled out a chair for her. "M'lady? I can't do the accent. Not like Roger."
"That's okay, I don't like the accent anyway," she said walking to him. She poked him gently. "And yes you are my slave, at least for my birthday." She giggled. "My birthday slave!"
"Okay..." he said slowly, as she sat on the chair. "But only because it's your birthday."
He walked back into the kitchen, and finished the noodles. He added the Alfredo sauce, and placed it with the rest of the dishes. He wiped his hands on a small towel, and checked up on Maureen. Her eyes beamed.
"It's good that you placed your camera at a high spot this time, so in case something happens we can actually SEE what goes on," she said nodding over to the camera.
CRAP! He totally forgot it was there. "Shit." He ran to it and took it off from its tripod. "Wouldn't want Roger to find anything like that lying around."
"Yeah, that or anything that follows..." she was smiling seductively. He smirked and brought the plate of juicy steaks besprent with light sauce and gravy.
"Sorry," he said biting his lip. "Steak's not very romantic."
"Will you stop worrying? Everything looks great." She laughed softly. "I can't believe you did all this for me."
He sat down across from her and gazed at her honestly. "I'd do anything for you." He placed the napkin on his lap. "Bon appetite." Mark devoured the steak, but Maureen only managed to eat half. It wasn't huge; it was quite small in fear that it would clash with the other dish. They sipped a bit of red wine, and engaged in a hearty conversation. It was strange because it was the most normal, yet amazing date ever. And he and Maureen hardly had any "normal" dates. She acted sweet and kind, and more quiet then usual while he did most of the talking, and made her laugh. It was almost as if they switched roles. Mark looked at her lovingly as she replied to him. They changed each other. They brought out the best out of one another. The eyes of the world would have never believed the scene that was taking place. And he felt good about that- that there was a secret of only his and Maureen's knowledge. Their own little secret.
After the main dish, Mark stood up and sighed. He glanced at the clock nonchalantly. Few minutes until twelve. Perfect. Okay, don't mess this up, Cohen, he thought. Maureen looked at him thoughtfully.
"I would like to make a toast to the stunning Maureen Johnson," he started cornily, but tried to go on with some dignity. "She's made my life worth living."
"Don't you want to turn your camera on?" she asked sweetly, yet facetiously.
"Do you want to hear me talk about you or not?" he asked grinning. Maureen pursed her lips and watched attentively. Mark continued. "I never thought that I would find someone that would make me feel so... alive inside. You've unraveled a part of me that expresses my more open side, and gives me the most wonderful feeling I believe I would never have received from anyone else. I've always loved you Maureen, from day one. The worst possible thing that could ever happen is, or was...when you left me. I never thought I would feel this way ever again. And it's true. I can never feel the same way about anyone. You're everything I've hoped for, you're very special to me. And I only hope that you'd return my love, and that you'll have a great birthday tomorrow. So I raise my glass... and you bet your ass to la vie de amour."
Maureen stared at him for the longest time, taking in everything he said. He hoped that he didn't frighten her away, but she looked as if she was about to cry. Her eyes glistered, and she stood up, putting her napkin on the table. She approached him slowly.
"It's already the best birthday ever," she said quietly, looking at Mark in a way he's never seen before. "You're everything I've ever hoped for too... I was just stupid not to realize it at first." She took the glass away from his hand and set it on the table. She moved closer to him and Mark couldn't help but sink into her eyes. "I love you and I'll always remember this birthday because of you." She slowly leaned closer. "I'll love you forever," and she drew close to kiss him.
Mark held her face with the palm of his hand. "Not yet," he said lowly, and leaned his forehead against hers. He looked out of the corner of his eyes to look at the clock. Five, four, three... He kissed her gently then more sweetly, and pulled away.
"Happy birthday," he whispered softly and looked over at the clock. Her gaze followed his, and she looked at the clock for a second. She then smiled.
"Thank you Mark. I love you," and she kissed him.
They talked for a bit more before moving over to the couch to be more comfortable. Maureen took her wine glass with her, but Mark left his on the table. He didn't drink much of it. Ever since that night, he became very wary about drinking any type of alcohol for any type of occasion.
"Collins is leaving in two days," she said sorrowfully. "We're going to finish packing his stuff tomorrow. Is it okay if you help move out everything?"
"Sure, of course," he replied sitting next to her. "He's going to Jersey huh?"
"Yeah I can't believe this." She was clearly upset, but Mark would fix that in a bit. "I'm trying to convince myself that he deserves this job because he does, but God, I'll miss him so much. But then again, I have YOU to help me recover." She tossed her hair a bit, and Mark adored the way she carried herself. "Dinner was really great Mark, thanks."
"I hope you have room for dessert," he said, with a hint of roguery.
She raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Well, my dress is about to explode, but... what do you have in mind?"
He stood up and walked over to the counter, removed the handkerchief and revealed a bowl of ripe peaches. "A bit of fruit. Peaches?"
"Sure," she said smiling. He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door. He hoped that the damn thing was working. Luckily it was, and he took out a carton of vanilla ice-cream, which thankfully didn't melt in that old refrigerator. He closed the door, and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, and a spoon from the drawer. He stayed quiet, and grinned at her slyly.
Maureen watched him carefully, a devilish smile curling on her lips. "Marky, what are you up to?"
"Nothing..." He grinned wider and tried to look away from her. He feared that he would give too much away if he looked directly at her. The least he could do is act cool about it. Somewhat embarrassed about his intentions, yet excited at the same time, he opened the carton of ice-cream and began to take up a few scoops into the bowl. Afterwards, he calmly walked to the pantry and took out a tiny glass bottle of honey, and a jar of caramel. Trying to suppress naughty thoughts, he grinned at her again, stifling a chuckle.
Maureen took a sip of her wine. "You are Mr. Mystery tonight, huh?"
He brought over the bowl of ice-cream, and bowl of peaches and set it in front of her on the small coffee table. He winked at her then went back into the kitchen to get the honey and caramel. "No touching," he advised her strongly.
"Oooh, is that a warning?" Her fingers touched the tip on the bowl of ice-cream. "What will you do if I will?"
He brought the bottles over and placed it next to the dessert. He got close to her and whispered, "You don't want to know." He simpered, and walked away to fetch his wine glass.
"Hmm... now I'm kinda curious..." she said delicately.
He blushed slightly, thanking God that everything was going so well. He was trying to take up every bit of courage he had left in him. Taking up his glass, he swished it gently, bobbing his head a bit like a wealthy businessman. He thought that would make her laugh, but unfortunately it didn't. Man, I blew it, he thought desperately. "I looked really stupid doing that, didn't I?"
"No, actually you look kinda cute."
He smiled humbly. "Thanks." He sat next to her, and raised his glass. "To us."
"To love," she replied. They traded smiles, clanked their glasses together, and took a sip. Her eyebrows scrunched slightly, and she rubbed the back of her heel.
"My feet are killing me," she said biting her lips, trying to adjust the straps.
"Here, take them off," he said, patting his lap. She brought leg up and set her foot on his lap. He slowly removed the straps of her high heels, and slipped them off. He did the same with the other foot. She smiled gratefully, and he slipped out of his shoes as well. He brought the bowl of ice-cream closer to the edge of the table.
"Caramel or honey?" he asked.
She flashed him a devilish smile, and took off his glasses, laying them aside. She looked at him wickedly. "You choose."
"Hmm..." He thought for a moment, then took the spoon from the bowl and poured a teaspoon of honey. He raised both eyebrows indicating her to taste it. He slipped it into her mouth, her lips sucking of the nectarous flavor.
She smiled, licking her lips. "That's not bad. Wanna try it?" She gently poured another teaspoon and fed it to him, her eyes leering at him, a curl at the corner of her lips. The honey was pure, sweet, and warm as it melted down his mouth.
"I prefer caramel," he said, and scooped of thick caramel with the spoon. He brought it to her lips, and she opened her mouth slightly to endure the liquid. She seemed to have liked the caramel as she suckled on the spoon, but he quickly pulled it away, teasing her. A drip of caramel began to trail down her chin, so he placed his lips on her mouths, licking the trickles, then kissing her gently. She tasted so good.
"Sorry," he said abashed. She shook her head gently and took the spoon from him. She placed it near the counter, then gave him a passionate kiss. When she pulled away, she smiled. Mark felt his own lips forming into a happy grin. Wait, what was he doing? Oh yeah... "So caramel or honey?" He suddenly remembered the ice cream.
"The caramel does taste better... but I don't know how that would go with the peaches..."
"You wanna find out?" he asked grinning. He took a peach from the bowl, and dug a nail into the fruit. Okay, gotta remember how this is done, he thought for a minute. He peeled it carefully, removing the skin perfectly as a whole, revealing a voluptuous fruit. He tore a piece and dipped a small amount with caramel. It became a bit messy though, and the liquid dripped onto his fingers, but he knew that beforehand. He placed the peach on her lips, but pulled it away as she opened her mouth slightly. He chuckled.
"Hey not fair," she said, taking the wrist of the hand which held the fruit. She brought it to her mouth with a seductive smile, and ate the peach off his hand, sucking on his fingers sleekly. He tried to stay calm, trying not to let that arousing feeling get control of him. He let his fingers touch her chin, and brought her over for another kiss, a bit more urgent this time. She tasted so sweet, so delicious... He pulled away quickly, his mind everywhere.
"Let's finish the ice-cream before it melts," he said quickly. She gave him an evil glare, and took the bowl of ice-cream. She took a spoonful, and moved closer to him, whispering, "Open up."
He obeyed, and let her feed him most of the vanilla ice-cream. He bit on the spoon a few times so she would have difficulty getting it back. He took off his shirt, afraid of getting it stained, and she seemed to like it as well. She observed him watchfully as he threw it aside. Before he let her finish, he couldn't help but kiss her gently. She carefully placed the bowl on the table as she went deeper into the kiss. He slid his hand on her back, and drew her in closer. She pressed up against him, straddling him so she was on top. "Don't wanna ruin the dress... kinda expensive..." she murmured in between.
He took the hint, and slowly pulled away from her kiss. He felt the bow from the back of her neck and pulled the strand of the bow. It untied, and the straps laid in front of her, baring her shoulders. He kissed and caressed the naked skin on her neck and shoulders, and slowly pulled the front of her dress down to reveal black satin lingerie. He trailed his mouth downward to her chest as his hands found their way down her waist. He felt a zipper and tried to pull it down intensely, but with no luck.
She huffed a bit, which sounded like a satisfied chuckle, and brought her hand to his to help him pull the zipper down. He slowly slid the dress down, and it sunk onto the floor. Mark had to take a minute to look at how beautiful she was. The lingerie fitted so well, a single string wrapped around her neck, and outlining down her breasts, and loosening toward her waist. He pushed her gently so she would lie on her back, and that he would be on top. He kissed her some more, biting her bottom lip gently, and caressing her with his tongue. Her hands moved to the side of his upper body, and kneaded them up and down, then made their way to his chest. God, he liked how that felt, her soft hands gently rubbing against his. She snaked her hands to his pants and unbuttoned the two buttons, and pulled the zipper down. Slowly, she pulled his pants down, pushing him slightly, avoiding direct skin-to-skin contact. She was teasing him, he knew it. Her slender leg curved up, and rubbed against his pants, and she pulled it off by sweeping it down.
Mark was now in his midnight blue boxers. He continued to brush his lips against hers, trailing his mouth along her neck and earlobe. He stopped for a minute, and his eyes caught the bowl of ice-cream left on the table. He reached for it without getting up and pulled himself up a little. He looked at Maureen, who was waiting.
"Sit up a bit," he said. She had this roguish spark in her eyes as if she knew what he wanted, and she did as she was told.
He took a spoonful of what was left of the ice-cream, which was slowly melting in a thin moat of vanilla water. A few driblets fell and he inserted it through her lips, the icy cold liquid dripping, contacting nude skin on her body. She gasped as the cold ice-cream trickled down her flesh.
She smiled sexily. "Shit Mark, that's cold... couldn't you have started with the caramel?"
He shook his head no. "Uh-uh." This was exactly what he wanted. He led his mouth down her body, laying her down again. He began to lick the spots of vanilla on her skin, sucking it softly. He then started to trail a soft line of vanilla liquid up her body to her mouth, where he sprinkled it gently over her lips. He followed the trail, sipping every bit of the sweet vanilla up her chest, until he reached her lips to where he kissed her fiercely, dropping the bowl of ice-cream without regret. He moaned softly, and began exploring every bit of her.
"You are evil, evil, evil," she uttered, as she groped his body to come closer. Her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, urging him forward. Mark knew she wanted more, and he tried his best to give her all she wanted.
"Not that evil, am I?" he asked softly, and he stretched his arm for another bowl on the table. He found it but struggled in getting a hold of it. He grabbed it and left it on the floor beside them, and reached for a piece of a peach. He traced the fruit on her skin, her chest, leaving the juice behind. He traced it all the way to the tip of her mouth, and she bit into it passionately. She put her arms around his neck, and suddenly flipped him over, so that she was on top. This took Mark by surprise because he was so much in control. The tips of her hair tickled along his skin, and Mark couldn't help but smile. She smiled at him seductively.
"My turn..." Her hand snatched the caramel from the table, and stuck two of her fingers in it and swooped some up. She laid it on his lips, and he sucked it softly. She pressed herself against him even more, her warm flesh against his. More, he wanted to say. Her hands stroked his hair, and her lips wanted to bite his neck, he could feel it. His fingers tried not to grip her skin, but the urgency was becoming unbearable. He traced his finger down to her black panty. He wanted to slip them down. He wanted her. He held his finger in place.
"Maureen... I don't want to hurt you."
Her voice was husky, her eyes dark with desire. "You will never be able to hurt me, no matter how hard you tried."
He smiled, looking into her deeply, in love, in lust. "Maureen, I love you."
"I love you too." She lightly placed her lips on his affectionately. "Do you wanna play some more with these or do you wanna move to your bed...?"
He smiled at her quite mischievously, and turned her over, kissing her once more, down her chest, biting the breast line of her lingerie a bit. He tugged it with his teeth, taking control. He got up slowly and slipped his arms under her. She looked at him lovingly, and Mark couldn't have asked for anything more. He carried her into his bedroom, the flame of the candles still burning in the night.