DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

CHAPTER 4

I had put the kettle on the fire a few minutes ago and it was already half way to a full boil. Al materialized his French press – the one he always used to make his coffee – and sat it on the slate table in front of the hearth, alongside the bag of coffee and creamers I brought with me from home. Al looked at the coffee press and then at me, and cocked his head to the side, a smile beginning to form at the corner of his mouth. It was a look of sheer amusement as I'm sure he wondered silently how I was going to manage with the funny-looking contraption.

Meeting his challenge, I raised my eyebrows and smirked. "I know it will surprise you, Al, but I actually do know how to use one of those."

Al chuckled. "We'll see, my itchy witch."

He sank back into his chair and watched my movements as I opened the vacuum-sealed bag. The heady aroma of Kona filled the air between us, the pure, earthy scent of fresh ground coffee as yet untouched by the reek of burnt amber.

"Pre-ground, Rachel? Really, now? How passé," Al remarked, sarcasm dripping from his words like condensation on a glass of ice water on a hot summer afternoon.

And I thought only elves could be snarky.

I grinned. "Oh, ye of little faith, Al. I told you this place was the best. Ivy only buys the best – hell, she can afford it. Worry not. The beans are as fresh as if we picked them off the bush and roasted them this morning, " I cajoled, and I looked up at him to see his red eyes glowing with delight.

As I looked around for something to scoop with, a tablespoon appeared in my hand. I reach into the bag and ladled two heaping tablespoons of coffee into the press, resealing the bag quickly to hopefully preserve some of the freshness, though I was certain some of the ever-after stench had already creeped its way into the grounds. Ah, well. This was still going to be a damn fine pot of coffee, regardless.

I sighed, more for effect than out of frustration, "You should be playing the role of the proud teacher, you know. The grounds are all uniform, large particles. Perfect for your coffee press. It's all very scientific. I did my research," I informed him, with perhaps a wee bit of flirtation thrown in for good measure.

Al laughed. "Oh, I have no doubt. No offense, but this little tete a tete is much more enjoyable than the coffee will be."

Gee, I think he just paid me a compliment... kinda. Sorta. Okay, not really. But I actually am enjoying this. Here. With him. Huh.

In my enjoyment of our banter back and forth, I forgot to check the kettle so I turned to the fireplace to see the water had by now been boiling for at least a good two minutes. I bit the corner of my lip in concentration and took the kettle off the fire. Al's kettle was made of cast iron and I had almost forgotten how heavy it was. If I spilled any hot water on Al that would definitely not be a good thing. As I carefully began filling the press with water, the coffee grounds danced in the column of hot water and a nice, light froth started forming on the top of the mixture. Snapping my fingers, I searched around again. Stir, stir, stir… need to stir… hmmm, what to stir with… As if he was reading my thoughts, Al cleared his throat to get my attention and when I looked he extended his hand, offering an exquisitely-painted, red chopstick as a stirring implement.

"Thank you," I said, pushing a stray strand of runaway hair back behind my ear.

I took the chopstick from Al's hand and made my way to the other side of the table. Facing the fire, I knelt down before the slate table to continue my work on the whole coffee situation. Al was to my left, his knees almost touching my side as he kept a watchful eye from his comfortable seat of observation.

"So, Al," I said, stirring the coffee slurry a few times to assist the steeping process. "Are you going to fill me in on what just happened? Or are you going to make me beg?"

Al sat in his chair with his arms clasped in front of him, playfulness in his eyes as he watched the machinations of my coffee-making. "Mmmm… now that would be nice," he mused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Phenomenal, actually," he added, humming with more than a hint of satisfaction.

"What would?" I asked, gently fitting the filter assembly to the top of the press.

There was a marked pause in the conversation and I looked over at Al to see him staring at me in a sort of sinister reverie.

His voice deep with darkness and desire, he said "Rachel Mariana Morgan, I quite like the idea of you begging at my feet."

Yeahhhhh…

"Not gonna happen," I vowed, and I hauled my ass up off the floor after realizing that I was, in fact, sitting at his feet. Oh, boy…

"Pity. But a man can dream," Al answered, sounding more determined than disappointed.

I sat down on the edge of the table instead of remaining on the floor at Al's feet, and began gently plunging the filter down through the coffee slurry. Mmmm… this is going to be perfect!

Two black cups with saucers appeared between us, along with two, silver teaspoons and a couple of dark red, cloth napkins.

Al had apparently decided to continue on with the more substantive issue at hand, explaining, "What we just experienced in that lovely moment of intimacy was an enrapture curse. Quite a powerful one, at that."

I held the lid of the press as I poured coffee into the two black cups. Looking between Al and the cups, I said, "I don't get it. Love charms typically aren't that powerful."

Indicating his annoyance, Al sighed and leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his knees. "No, they're not, my itchy witch," he replied. "And how cute of you to continue comparing powerful demon curses with the paltry excuse for sorcery that is earth magic," he added, patronizing me.

Al watched as I stood and moved the other wing chair to the side of the table facing the fire – the side closer to him. The coffee table was quite large and I felt a bit awkward sitting so far away from him.

I sat down on the edge of the chair and said, "Look, it's the only thing I have to compare it to."

Al huffed and helped himself to one of the cups of hot liquid. I reached over to grab a few raspberry creamers and put them next to Al's cup along with one of the teaspoons. I opened two creamers and added them to my cup before stirring them in and taking a sip. There was a negligible tinge of burnt amber after-taste, but all in all I was quite pleased with how this little experiment turned out. "Mmm… not bad," I commented.

Al closed his eyes as he held the cup to his mouth and savored the smell of the coffee before taking a sip himself. From the smile it brought to his face I'd say he was pleased. Or impressed. Or maybe both.

"Love charms," I said, wincing a bit as Al opened his eyes and frowned at me. "Love curses, sorry..." I corrected and continued, "… are notoriously unpredictable..."

A cold chill went down my spine and I took a ragged breath, "Oh my God!" I exclaimed.

I set down my cup before my hands started to shake and turned to look at a very smug Al. Raising both hands in disgust, I pointed a finger at him and shouted, "Whoaaa! Wait a minute. It was one of yours? What the hell are you trying to do, Al? Bespell me into sleeping with you?"

"Mine?" he snickered. "No, dove. I don't do love charms," Al chided. "And I told you, Rachel. One night you will come to me," he said, placing his cup back down on the table. He reached out and grabbed my wrist before I had the chance to sit back in my chair.

Though my not-so-subtle attempt to remain out of Al's reach proved unsuccessful, I did nothing to avoid his touch. Al's hands were slightly callused but that didn't detract from the enticing feel of energy flowing from his hand into mine. It was comforting and pleasurable and it surprised me to admit I was in no hurry to break the connection.

With my free hand, I set my cup back down on the table and reached up to stroke the base of my neck - a bit of a nervous habit I hadn't quite learned to break. As I continued to look at Al, my hand traveled up to rest at the corner of my mouth, my fingers cool against the warmth that had crept into my face. I looked down at my other wrist, encircled in Al's grasp. His touch was warm and tender even though he was holding my wrist firmly between his fingers, and I didn't shirk away when he brought his other hand to rest on top of mine, sandwiching my much smaller hand between his two large ones.

"Keep up that dreaming, Al…" I replied, with a total lack of conviction, my voice more sultry and breathless than I would have liked.

"Oh, Rachel, honey, it's much more than a dream," he said, as he brought my arm towards him and tilted his head down to kiss the back of my hand before turning it over and tracing the lines of my palm with one of his large fingers.

My eyes fluttered shut as I focused on the exhilarating feel of his touch. When I opened my eyes, he smiled and released my hand before reaching for his cup and saucer and taking another large swallow of coffee.

In a more authoritative tone, he explained, "You see, an enrapture curse would not have bound us like that had there not been an attraction on your part, Rachel."

I opened my mouth to contradict him, but reconsidered and decided to go with confrontation instead. "Yours too, then," I accused, not really thinking about the things I left unspoken, and where that might lead the conversation.

"Mine too, yes, itchy witch," he admitted, his voice a bit ragged and his unblinking eyes filled with yearning as their focus shifted to my lips.

In response to the shock that must have registered on my face, he chortled, "What? That surprises you? I'm a man, Rachel. And you are a very attractive woman, high maintenance and incorrigible though you may be. What should surprise you is that the enrapture curse bound you as tightly as it did me," he said, grinning like the godamned Cheshire Cat.

Redness crept into my cheeks as I blushed from head to toe.

"So it's like… a possession curse?" I asked in my naiveté.

"No. It's more of an amplification curse," he said, leaving me to fill in the blanks, his tone and demeanor saying much more than his words.

God, he's so cryptic. What the hell is he saying? That I'm attracted to him? Damn me back to the Turn if I'd ever admit that to his face. Okay, breathe… get it together, Rachel…dodge and deflect.

"So whose curse was it?" I asked. "And how did they know I'd be wearing your coat?"