Chapter 2: Faces In The Crowd
i.
He can't remember the last time he slept with a woman. The fire, the rush, the desire, the slowly unfolding of the coil in his stomach, the release; he misses them all.
Hence his being undressed by her tonight.
Her name is Monique; she answered him with the little singing voice. Her face is carefully done with little make-up; the sheer, white blouse does little to hide the voluptuous body of hers. He watches her kneel in front of him, dark eyes looking up at him under long eyelashes, skilled fingers unbuttoning his shirt and jeans. He stops her hands for a moment, pulls her up to look into her eyes. She seems to be surprised by his action, but then she touches him there and he lets her control him.
When they're finished, she stands up and puts her clothes back on with an incredible speed. He asks to meet her again; he wants to know her this time, at a coffee shop, tomorrow night. She takes his money and she swears that she has never stood someone up throughout her young lifetime.19 years old, she told him.
He says she is kind for agreeing to meet him again; she just shrugs and lets him know that prostitutes like her would do anything for good money. Her face is still wearing a smile, but sadness is dripping from her voice.
The second time they have sex, she asks him if he likes her to leave her heels on, and whether or not he wants her to give him a blow-job.
Later, when they are walking on the wet and dirty pavements, her heels making these feminine "clacking" noises, she runs in front of a shop's glass window, and says enthusiastically, "Je vais m'acheter un chapeau mignon(I'm going to buy myself a cute hat)!" She turns to him and her cheeks are turning pink, she apologizes for her sudden slip of words. She loops her arm around his and leans her head on his shoulder, and with a solid French accent, she tells him she misses home. "Paris", she says. He tells her he loves Paris. She kisses his cheek.
When she's almost naked, with her white cottons panties still on, he stops her. He tells her that she should go, and he still pays her. She looks at him with her wide, almost innocent brown eyes and huffs, "Américain."
He puts his jeans on, no shirt, and lights up a cigarette. He takes out a pen and begins to write, but meaningless words float onto the papers, nothing more. He burns them with the tip of his cigarette, and watches the ashes flying away, like fairy dust.
ii.
He sees Rachel again in the month of June.
He rarely takes a walk in June. He doesn't like the warm weather, he doesn't like the sunlight painting everything with this glorious shade of gold, the busy streets with crowds of exciting young students, the smiles and satisfied looks on people's faces. He doesn't like them, no; he doesn't like summer at all.
Anyhow, he spots her face among the crowd.
He almost trips as he realizes her. She looks so grown up, her hair is much longer now, and it's beautiful – long, flowing flocks with a fringe. White blouse tied in front of her belly, and knee-length plaid skirt, with penny loafers and socks, pink backpack.
He holds in a breath as she passes by.
She never looks back.
iii.
He's reading Vladimir Nabokov when his doorbell rings (he likes the sound of the bell, a lot).
He opens the door and she squeals, "Mr. Finn! Oh my God, I'm so glad you're still here!"
She jumps up and wraps her arms around his neck, suffocates him with her sweet smell and her giggles.
He can't even say a simple "Hello."
iv.
"How do you know that I'm still here?"
"I don't, most of the people I know have moved out of this building, actually. I just hope that you still live here."
"You look different."
"You haven't seen me in 6 years, Mr. Finn. Of course I look different. You don't, actually."
"I don't what?"
"Look different. Still as handsome as I remember."
She tilts her head aside and laughs.
"You moved back to New York?"
"Yep, my old man's getting married to a New Yorker!"
"Your daddy's getting married? Who's the lucky guy?"
"Leroy, he's an old friend of my Dad's. Rich and powerful."
He cocks an eyebrow at her and stands up to make them some tea.
"Rich and powerful? That's all you can say about your soon-to-be stepdad?" – He says without looking up, pouring hot water into the cups. She follows him into the small kitchen, stretches on her tip toes to reach for the box of Harney and Sons.
He chuckles as he stands behind her, watches her struggle to get to the top shelf, her skirt hikes up and her olive skin glowing, the joint at her knees flexing.
He looks away almost immediately, then he comes closer to her, easily takes the box and hands it to her. She looks up at him and furrows her eyebrows, her lips pouting.
"What?"
"You're so tall."
"And?"
"I'm short. Really short."
"And?"
"What do you mean and? I'm vertically challenged!"
"Did that ever stop you from being amazing? I don't think so."
She gives him a smile and he feels great.
v.
It's become a routine for both of them.
Classes finish at 4pm, she rides her bike to his building, parks somewhere nearby and takes the stairs to his apartment. He wants to ask her why she doesn't use the elevator, but on second thought, that won't be very safe since the elevator is not as good as before. She comes in, he stops his writing or reading and makes them some tea, or coffee, sometimes. She puts both her legs on his couch, and makes a mess out of his scattering papers. She pulls of her penny loafers and he sits down next to her, continues to read with his glasses (she tells him he looks so old with glasses). She scoots closer to him after a few times, and he gives her a pillow to rest her back on. She does her homework, he reads or writes, she interrupts him by using her feet to poke his book or paper, and he furrows his eyebrows in annoyance and he tells her to stop. She sticks her tongue out at him and focuses on her homework again, but this time it's his turn to disturb her. He throws a pillow at her and she gasps, next thing he knows his papers are all over the place and she's laughing so hard, her chest heaving when she lets out a deep sigh. He finds himself staring at her sometimes, when she suddenly changes position, her skirt will let him see a bit of skin – the expanse of the most magical color of skin he has ever seen. He bets it's smooth and soft, too. She has this habit of biting the end of her pencil when she's thinking; her white teeth plunging into the soft wood, her eyebrows furrow, a drop of swear forming on her forehead, shining as the light shines upon them. She throws her head back, her eyes at the ceiling and the movements of the veins on her neck mesmerize him.
She catches him staring once.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"I'm not."
"Really?" – She puts her book and pencil aside, stretches her legs just a little bit, her feet barely touches his arm.
"I'm staring into an infinite space and you happen to be in it."
She laughs and moves closer to him, her hair falling around his shoulder.
"What are you reading? Something dirty?"
She yanks the book from his hand and furrows her eyebrows in concentration; he tries to get it back. He leans over her, his chin touches the top of her head.
"Hey, give it back!"
She pushes him with one hand, still reading from the book.
"It's in French." – She turns around, their faces so close together, he feels her breath hot on his skin.
"Yeah, well…" – He yanks it back successfully and moves away from her, his heart strangely beating faster in his chest – " I know French."
He puts his glasses on and tries to focus again.
She takes one of her socks of and rests her feet near his lap, pokes him with her bare foot.
"I'm bored."
"Do your homework."
"Gee, Mr. Finn, you're not my dad, remember?"
"Well, I'm 13-year older than you, so…"
Silence.
He looks at her and her eyes are so dark.
She shifts a little bit; he sees the expanse of the sweet color of olive skin again.
He looks back at her and he knows she sees him looking at her thighs. She bites her lips just a little and stands up, gathering her stuff around them. She brushes past him a few times by doing so, and she hums a melody he can't recall, then skips out of the apartment.
She doesn't drop by the next day.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
A week.
Two weeks.
She never comes back.
Tbc
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A/N:
Oh my Glee, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I feel pretty and happy! ヾ（＠＾▽＾＠）ノ
Lolita, okay, that is one hell of a book, a very controversial one, too. But I love the writing and the characters so much. I will not portray Finn as a pedophile, never, but I will only approach the moral base of age difference(arghhh,sounds so serious) ( ≧Д≦)
It will get "hotter" in the next few chapters, our Rachel is quite a rebellious soul.
Reviews, please please! Tell me what you guys think! Thank you so much!