Paradise Lake: A Love Story
A/N: A while back I suggested to 'littlepie' that she do a oneshot on a scene from "Back Stage Rage". She did a wonderful job of it. If you haven't read it, I urge you to do so. She did her story from Shaggy's POV, this is the same scene and the aftermath from Velma's POV.
Chapter Four: No Strings Attached
"We had no luck at the first flower shop," Daphne whispered. Daphne and Velma were seated at one table, the guys at the next. Close enough to 'whisper talk' but far enough away not to be taken as being together. This had been Fred's idea and Velma thought it was stretching things but his paranoid ideas had proven helpful in the past.
They stopped talking to give their orders to the pretty waitress, an order of scones, with real butter, fruit preserves with little seeds that stuck between your teeth and coffee so rich and flavorful you were tempted to bite off a chunk and chew.
"We had better luck at the second flower shop..." Daphne continued. Velma would normally jump in and add her commentary but settled back, letting Daphne tell her story. What she really wanted to do was to reach over to hold Shaggy's hand; to let him comfort her as he had that day in the past.
It had started when they were on a case, the case later known as the "Back Stage Rage". A case involving counterfeit twenty dollar bills and, Pietro, a mad master puppeteer. First had been the Viking puppet, then the pirate, so real looking, the strings so fine you wouldn't know they were there if you didn't know where to look. They had scared her so badly that she'd jumped through the air into Shaggy's arms.
"When we asked about who had ordered flowers for the Peerson graves, the clerk would only say a man had and asked if I was Daphne Blake. When I said I was, he said he had something for me from the same man. Velma and I could only stare at him and wonder who and what this was all about."
"I don't like looking for clues anymore," she had whispered; a whisper that brushed his cheek.
"I know you've wanted to jump my bones, I guess it was only a matter of time." He had sounded so smug but her sweater had seemed to shrink, hugging her breasts, concealing yet proclaiming the firm, provocative tent pressed against his chest.
She had tried to keep her voice casual and controlled but failed, "you can put me down now," her voice cracked with a lustful desire so strong it frightened her, "not in your wildest dreams will I 'jump your bones'...ever."
But he must have felt her body shiver with excitement when she realized just how high his hand rested on her exposed thigh and her thought that she was in no hurry for him to remove said hand from said thigh.
"If you say so." He'd planted her on the floor but she had clung to him, looking into his eyes for a long time.
"Fred, would you believe it was a box of flowers?" An astonished Daphne stated.
"Not just flowers but a box of Iris," Velma interjected, drawing stunned looks from her three friends since this was the first she had spoken. "What? Each month has a birth stone and a birth flower. Iris is the flower for February. And since it can be considered a birth flower for February, it could be taken to mean "New Beginnings".
"And don't forget the cute heart-shaped marshmallows that came with those pretty purple flowers, Velma," Daphne sighed.
"It's the card that came with the flowers that I don't understand. Why send romantic flowers, heart-shaped marshmallows, then include a card that reads, "Don't come looking for me!"?"
She hadn't understood the nightmare that began later that night either. They had solved the mystery, put Pietro the mad puppet master and his fake twenties out of circulation and every thing should have been fine. But in the night she had come awake in a cold sweat, heart beating like a run away locomotive. 'And screaming, don't forget the screams, Velma.' Yeah, how could she forget the screams?
In the nightmare she was running, running as fast a she could but she couldn't outrun the puppets or that laugh that turned her blood to ice. The puppets caught her, their strings caught in her hair, pulling, hurting, wrapping themselves around her neck, lifting her up! She was choking, kicking out but still the puppets pulled her higher! Everything was turning black, she couldn't breathe! The next breath would be her last! And then she was falling. The strings were gone and she was falling faster, faster! She took a deep breath and screamed!
"SHAGGY!"
She woke, shivering, her nightgown drenched in sweat. With the fear of hyperventilating, she had thrown the covers back and made her way to the bathroom. Stripping out of the disgustingly damp nightgown and throwing it in the hamper, she adjusted the water as hot as possible before stepping into the refreshing water.
She had stood there, simply glad of the steaming water and letting the shampoo cleanse her hair and soak into her flesh, washing away the residue of the nightmare. Unfortunately, all the shampoo couldn't rid her mind of the feeling of those horrible strings.
She could hear Daphne talking, saying something but it sounded miles away. Velma laughed to herself, she always closed and locked the bathroom door when she was in the shower. Why had she not done so on that night...
She heard the tap...tap on the door and felt the draft of cool air as the door opened, "Velma? I heard you scream and saw the light on...are you okay?" It was Shaggy sticking his head in the room and his voice was filled with concern.
"Yes, I'm fine.," She'd answered. She could see him through the steam. He would go away if she didn't say anything more. She needed to rinse off the bubbles and return to bed; that was what she told herself but "No...I'm not," had come unbidden from her throat.
He had entered the steam filled room as she had stepped from the shower. Going to him, she had wrapped her arms around his neck. He had wrapped his arms around her midriff, holding her form tightly as the dying bubbles soaked his pajamas.
"You've been in here a long time, I thought you might be drowning."
"No strings. I just don't want to be along tonight." That's what she'd said before he kissed her lips. They had broken the kiss long enough to turn the water off and dump his wet pajamas in the shower stall. Quietly she had taken his hand and led him to her bedroom.
She didn't recognize the man approaching their table or what he carried. What she did know was, whatever had triggered this rush of memories, it had overloaded her ability to deal with the issue of intimacy. But the memories kept coming as the man drew closer.
Covers were thrown completly off the bed, a passionate embrace, her whispering, "we both knew this would happen one day...or night." He had picked her up, depositing her on the bed, kissing her lips. Butterfly kisses from neck to breast; the delightful feel of an inner fire being kindled, building into a raging inferno with each touch, each kiss. She cried out, stunned, reeling at the ecstasy his touch produced, never wanting it to end but knowing it must.
She trembled, barely aware of her surroundings. She lay in his arms, hot, damp and need of another shower. The pulse of her heart that thundered earlier, now lay quietly in her chest. Their eyes met, conveying an excitement shared, a joint seduction of loving whispers, continued kisses , caresses and desire. She gave herself to his painstakingly slow lovemaking that drove her to sweet distraction.
The next morning she was gone. Gone from bed and from any intimate contact and denial that their night together had ever happened; she poured herself into mystery after mystery with a renewed urgency. She effectively pushed Shaggy away each time he attempted any level of intimacy with barbed remarks of satire and sharp come backs.
The scones were quite good and the jams delicious but the table was too far away. Velma tried to reach for a scone but it remained teasingly just out of reach. She leaned over the table to capture the elusive scone and on sensory overload, just kept going. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. She rolled off the table.
Shaggy was alert enough to catch her limp form before she hit the floor.
TBC