Enraptured

Chapter 14

Belle and Rumple awaken in bed together but are completely clothed and realize that nothing beyond several deeply heated kisses happened between them. Rumple offers to fund Belle's last year of college (an offer she will think about). Regina shares with Rumple that some mildly salacious pictures of Rumple and Belle that have surfaced on the Internet. She also discovers some of his drawings of Belle and wants to have a gallery show. Belle answers the phone and it's Rumple's son Neal, who wants to meet with her (to thank her for taking care of his father). They discover they have a mutual friend in Emma Swan, one of Belle's best friends and Neal's girlfriend.

It was again Friday night and Belle let him know she was going out with her friends.

"This isn't going to result in another Ice Cream Episode, is it?" he asked warily.

"No," she smiled at him. "I don't get down very often. I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself, but I think . . . I'm sure . . . I'm doing better now."

"So where are you going, so I don't run into you?"

"Where we usually go – The Green Dragon," she told him.

"I solemnly swear, I will not go The Green Dragon bar tonight," he raised his right hand while he made his pledge. "Have fun with your friends."

She hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

He looked over at her. "Anything on my social calendar?"

"No sir, but Regina wanted you to give her a call," she told him.

She just wants to know if I talked with you about showing the pictures I've done of you. "Then I guess I will call her and if it's not anything, I may connect with Jefferson or, maybe just stay here. I've learned recently that I don't have to go out and get drunk every single night."

Belle smiled at him, a beaming, genuine smile. "No sir. You don't."

"Maybe I'll stay here and do a little work. I've got this idea for some music."

"Music? You used to write a lot of music, didn't you?"

"I still have it all in my head but I haven't gotten any of it written down in a while. Maybe I'll work on that."

He didn't tell her that since she'd come into his life, he'd gotten a myriad of ideas for music – most of them about love and smaltzy stuff, not his usual acerbic style at all. He'd been writing some of them down, but they weren't quite going anywhere When she was in the room, there was always a tune in his head, different ones depending on what she was doing, what she was wearing, if she smiled at him, if she breathed the same air that he breathed.

"Well, don't work too hard," Belle told him as she went out the door.

He had gotten better, she thought. He was still intruding into her life, but most recently, his efforts had worked out well for her. She still wasn't comfortable sharing him with her friends. He was still – too much.

Oh, but now he was making guest appearances in her dreams. That kiss the other evening kept replaying in her head and remembering that moment she woke up and they were cuddled together and it was warm and sweet and, now, in her dreams, it would dissolve into him rolling on top of her and kissing her and removing her clothing and touching her and, more than once, she had awakened with the most delicious orgasm washing over her.

Well, damn.

Early

She had called Ruby to connect with her before their other friends showed up. She wanted to talk something over with her very best friend.

"'Sup?" Ruby had asked, sliding into the barstool next to her, signaling for her usual.

"I've got to talk to someone," Belle began. She looked over at her best friend who was struggling to contain herself. "I'm in trouble."

"Mr. Stiltskin?" Ruby asked, soberly.

"You're good. Yes."

"Well, he's rich enough to take care of you and he seems like he'd be a stand-up guy. You know you can count on your friends."

The bartender brought over two beers for the women.

Ruby reached over and pulled away Belle's beer. "Oh darling, you know you shouldn't be drinking."

Belle paused and then laughed, suddenly realizing how she had misled Ruby. "Oh no. It's not that kind of trouble. I'm just confused and . . . I don't know what to do." She retrieved her beer.

"All right," Ruby looked relieved. "So, you're not pregnant. For a moment there . . . I thought I'd lost my super power – the one where I can tell if people are doing the nasty. So, that is good news . . . all right . . . so . . . Stiltskin, huh? What's the bastard done?"

"Nothing. He's been wonderful and that's the problem. It was so much easier when he was a drunken reprobate, but he's been so supportive with all this stuff with my dad. I . . ." she struggled to finish.

"You are falling for him," Ruby quickly surmised. "So, what's the problem, Belles? Jump him in the shower. It's not like he can run faster than you can."

Belle just looked at her best friend. "I . . . I . . ."

"Belle, for Pete's sake, you're a grown-up woman. You really like this guy and he seems to really like you. So why not have some fun? If something bigger and better comes out of it, that's great. If not, well, at least you had fun."

"That doesn't seem kinda . . . cheap to you?" Belle asked in a small voice.

"It seems kinda like taking life and all that it can offer instead of sitting on the sidelines watching it go by." Ruby got serious. "Belle, Archie is like totally different from anyone else I have ever dated. If I hadn't taken a chance and jumped into the deep end of the pool, I don't know that I would have ever really gotten to know him and . . . well, he's been the best thing, besides you, that's ever happened to me."

"What if I find out that he's just using me . . . you know, for sex?"

Ruby took a big swig of her beer. "He strikes me at the kind of man that's gonna make it pretty good for you. Older guy – experience – multiple orgasms – maybe you'd be the one using him . . . you know, for sex."

Belle had to smile. Her best friend was incorrigible . . . but probably right. They were finishing up their beers when Mary Margaret and Emma came in.

"I really want to try the new bar, Pieces," Emma told them all.

"But . . ." Belle began.

"That sounds great," Ruby spoke up. "I've been wanting to go there." And the gaggle of young women set off. Belle considered calling Rumple, to let him know the change of plans. but thought, what are the odds? She doubted he would leave the apartment tonight.

So, she didn't.

Mary Margaret had brought her new friends Ariel and Ashley and introduced them to the group. After catching up all around, Ruby turned to Belle, "You have got to tell them about your job and your hot boss," she told her. Ruby announced to the new girls, "Her boss is Rumson Stiltskin."

The other women gushed. "What's he like?" "That's got to be interesting work." "Is he as hot in person?"

"My job is boring. It's cleaning toilets and vacuuming and cooking the occasional meal – not exciting. And my boss is not hot," Belle tried to get them onto another topic.

"Are you kidding?" Ariel spoke up. "I've seen pictures. The guy is sooo hot."

"Testify," Ruby was in complete agreement. "I got to see him, close up and in person. The guy is a volcano, just oozing hotness."

"Well, maybe familiarity breeds blasé-ness," Belle told them. "He's not so hot when you get to know him."

"No, no," Mary Margaret disagreed. "We've got to know. Has he made any moves on you?"

Beyond a hot kiss in the hallway? "No, the man lives like a monk," Belle glanced at Ruby and then explained to her friends. "I don't care what his reputation is, he rarely brings women to the apartment."

"Really?" Ashley was disappointed.

"Isn't that him?" Emma asked slowly. She was looking over Belle's shoulder.

"What?!" Belle had a sinking feeling. She glanced around and . . . yes, there he was. He was dressed nicely, really nicely – one of his suits with a dark silk shirt. No vest, no tie . . . and the shirt was open at the neck. Crap, one of his nicer looks.

What should she do? She had told him she would be somewhere else. She really couldn't get angry at him from showing up in a public place. But what were the odds?

"Mr. Stiltskin! Mr. Stiltskin!" Ruby had stood up and was waving at him, actually summoning the guy over to them. He looked over at the group of young women, puzzled. "We're here with Belle," Ruby was pointing to her friend. "Come join us," she invited him over.

He hesitated. He had promised Miss French that he wouldn't intrude . . . but he didn't want to be rude to her friends.

He went over to the group.

"You've got to sit with us," Ruby told him, laying a hand on his arm. He glanced at Belle who gave him a weak smile.

"For just a moment," he said, catching Belle's eye and shrugging. "Ladies, can I buy you a round?"

"You betcha." "Shore 'nuff." "No problem." "Absolutely." came the replies.

"Belle's been telling us what a nice guy you are," Ariel began.

He glanced at Belle. "Miss French is being very kind," he replied. "I'm often quite difficult to be around. She is a saint for putting up with me."

"Have you done any drawings of her?" Emma asked.

"I have. A few." And he began to make some sketches on a bar napkin.

"Are you seeing anyone special now?" Mary Margaret boldly asked him.

"If you ask me, no. But there are some women who would answer that differently," he replied honestly.

"Are you ever going to write any more music? Lost in Oz and The Price of Magic have some of my most favorite songs in them," Ariel told him referring to his older Broadway successes.

"I have some ideas in mind, but nothing concrete," he told her. He looked around. "I've met Miss Ruby. You others must tell me who you are." And he smiled at the group and they all just giggled like middle school girls. Belle was thoroughly disgusted with her friends. Her sophisticated, experienced, involved-with-other-guys, urbane friends were all just melting for the man.

Mary Margaret led things off, then Ariel and then Ashley, each of them telling him their names and their day jobs. The group was surprised when Emma, solid, pragmatic Emma who worked for the sheriff's department as a deputy, revealed that she was a wanna-be artist.

She blushed when this came out. "Well, it's really personal and I just never have shared. But I was told I was pretty good in high school and in a couple of college classes I took. I just didn't think I could make a living with my art."

"It is a leap of faith," Rumple agreed with her. "Why don't you bring me some of your work. I'll take a look at it," he encouraged her. And Emma, hard-nosed, Miss Self-Sufficient Emma gushed. She actually gushed.

Belle suspected that Neal had not yet told Emma about his connection with Mr. Stiltskin and she wasn't going to be the one to spill the beans. It was odd, sitting in the group, knowing there was this important connection between her employer and her friend.

He kept her friends laughing and ended up giving them each a quick drawing of themselves – on bar napkins to be sure, but nonetheless, a signed and dated work.

It was probably the longest time she'd ever been around the man that he wasn't a jerk at any point. He was gracious, friendly, a thorough gentleman. Belle couldn't figure out why she was feeling so much anger. It couldn't be that she didn't want to share him – that would mean she was jealous and if she was jealous that would be further confirmation that she had real feelings for him.

At the end of the evening, Rumple graciously offered to take them all home but they had rides except for Belle, so he ended up walking her back to his place.

"I didn't intrude," he told her. "When I called Regina, she asked me to address the Arts Commission and she was mean and made me put on a suit. I did stay away from The Green Dragon as I promised."

"You're right," Belle had to admit."Our plans were changed at the last moment."

"And I was on my best behavior, my most charming and delightful," he told her.

She sighed. "You were. And all my friends think you're marvelous."

"Would they sleep with me?" he asked, grinning at her.

"A year ago, they all would have," Belle told him. "But now, they're all involved."

"But a year ago . . .?" he prompted.

"You would have been fair game. They're all kinda slutty."

"That's nice to know," he assured her.

Belle stopped and turned to him. "Please tell me, you're not going to try to hook up with any of my friends."

"That could get awkward – and I wasn't trying to hook up with the pretty blonde – I really am willing to look over her art work," he told her, recognizing that she really didn't want him intruding any more into her personal life than he already had.

"Emma," she told him her pretty, blonde friend's name. "And you should definitely not be trying to hook up with her," she told him sternly.

He caught something, but wasn't sure what it was. "Why is that? Does she have a disease? A scary boyfriend? Tons of unpaid debt?"

Belle bit her lip – it wasn't her place to share. "She's a wonderful person, but relationships have been hard for her. She's in one right now that seems to be working and I wouldn't want to do anything that would mess it up."

"I'll be on my best behavior then," he promised. They walked a little longer in quiet before Rumple shared, "Your friends are nice. You're lucky to have them."

She thought a moment, "I am. I really am. They've been like a second family to me . . . after my mother died and my dad began to have some problems. They've been there for me."

They were almost back to his apartment when she asked, "I saw you drawing on the napkins. Did you do a picture of the group?"

"I did. Just an ink drawing." He fished in his pocket and pulled out the art piece.

Belle looked at it in the light from one of the streetlamps. She looked up at him. "This is amazing. You are so incredibly gifted. This captures not just how they look, but who they are."

Up the stairs, they stepped into the dark apartment and Rumple turned to her. "Miss French, you know I'd been in a slump as an artist. Most of what I'd been producing is nice but not inspired. But I've done a series of little pictures of you which I think may be some of the best things I've produced. You somehow . . . you inspire me. You make me a better . . . artist." He placed his hand on her arm.

"I don't know what to say." She didn't move.

His voice was quiet and low and slow, almost a whisper. "Say, you'll pose for me. Say you'll let me do a series of pictures with you in them, different places, doing different things. Please," he asked her, leaning in closer, closer.

She felt enveloped by his presence, almost suffocated. He was taking the air out of the room and she was beginning to feel as if she was under a spell, dizzy, with no will of her own. She hadn't expected this.

And now, now that she was beginning to recognize that she was well and truly attracted to man, she had little choice but to acknowledge that there was real desire, not just a passing fancy, between them. She was torn, wanting to comply, to please him and, yet, wanting to save herself from a romance that had nowhere to go.

"I . . . I . . . how can I be your maid and pose . . . ?" she stammered.

"We'll work something out," he moved in just a little more. "Modeling pays more than maiding. I know you want to finish up college and I offered you a loan, but I know you – you'd rather be able to pay your own way without my help." He was standing too closely, in her space, she could feel the heat from his body.

"Well yeah, you know I do. I'm working on it but . . . " she didn't finish. This was unexpected. This was confusing.

"Then, agree to pose for me. My mother is taking care of your father's expenses. That loan offer is still on the table. But modeling could really help you out with the college finances."

"I don't know."

"We would have until the end of the year and we can work out something so you can go off after the new year to wherever you want to go."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he promised her.

Belle considered. She blinked against the darkness, just able to make out his face in dim light coming in from the street into the apartment. "Would you . . . would you want to do . . . ones like the one you're doing with Miss DeVries?"

"A nude?' he asked. "You'd have to tell me if you were comfortable doing that," he gave her a gentle smile. "I'm perfectly fine with you remaining attired."

She considered some more. "All right." And so, that had line had much easier to cross than she'd thought it would be.

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Yes. Let's do it."

"Then . . . let's begin now," he led her into his studio, flipped on the lights and set her on the sofa.

"What should I do? I'm not a model. I don't know how to pose or what to do."

"I'll help you. Take your hair down," he directed her.

She complied, running her fingers through her waves and unruly curls.

"Here," he poured them two glasses of whiskey. He kept one for himself and handed one to her.

She looked up at him. "Do you want me to drink this?"

"A little – it will help you relax."

She sipped some of the potent alcohol.

"Now," he said, "take off your little jacket, so you're just in your pretty party dress."

She followed his directions, setting the drink down and slipping out of her jacket. She shivered in the skimpy sundress with its little spaghetti straps. She hadn't bothered with a bra and was suddenly very aware that there was only a thin layer of cotton separating her bosom from his soft sight.

"Here," he handed her a pamphlet took her drink from her. He then dipped his finger in his own drink and gently brushed his finger across her lips, wetting them. "Act like you're reading it, intently reading it. It's the most bloody interesting thing you've ever read. Now drop your shoes off, pull one leg up under yourself." He smiled as she complied with all his instructions. He took her drink from her and set it aside. "Now, pull your skirt up a bit so we can see your lovely leg there and . . . and lean forward."

Belle followed all his instructions and he began work.

It was an amazingly erotic experience. Her lips were still tingling from his touch and the potent alcohol. As he painted her, Belle could feel the man's eyes on her. It was as if he was running his fingertips over her, touching her, caressing her. He would look at her and then work on the canvas and then look back at her again. Slowly, carefully, he worked his way around her body. He seemed dispassionate, but she found that she was breathing shallowly, feeling, feeling, feeling interested . . . feeling aroused. His eyes were bright, infused with the energies of his genius, his talent. He had captured her and was now embracing her very soul. The longer he worked, the more she felt as if she was enraptured, consumed and devoured by his magic.

It was after two in the morning before he allowed her to get up and come around to see the piece. She was trembling when she stood and took a moment to get her balance. She walked around to look at the canvas.

"My god!" she said reverently.

"Pretty good, huh?" he asked her.

"It doesn't even look like me."

"It's what I see when I look at you," he told her.

Belle realized she was holding her breath. He had managed to paint an ethereal version of her best self – a young woman absorbed in her reading

"I've got some other ideas of how I'd like to paint you," he told her, infused with creative energies. "Tomorrow, I'd like to paint you down in the city, perhaps at a coffee shop or in a book store. And I'd like to get you on the overlook to the French Broad. And, I think, in the botanical gardens and perhaps, well, there are some places along the Blue Ridge that I think would make splendid backdrops. I want to paint you in the sunshine, in the rain, in the morning, the evening. I have so many ideas."

"Lovely, I'm sure they're all lovely, but . . ." Belle looked out the window of his studio. "It's very late. I'm not used to being up past midnight."

"Oh, you need to rest," he suddenly realized. "Of course. Tomorrow we can begin again." And he reached for her, pulling her to him and kissing her on the mouth. It was a short, hard kiss and he released her as soon as it was over.

Both of them stood stunned. The kiss had been spontaneous, not romantic, but it was more than simple affection.

"Miss French," he said and he slowly placed his hand on her cheek. "I'd like to kiss you again."

A.N. Thanks so much to those folks who continue to read (follow and favorite) this story and especially to those who found the time to review: Grace 5231973, Wondermorena, arynwy, Erik'sTrueAngel, and jewel415.

NEXT: The heat builds (all right, the next chapter degrades into mostly smut – including some inappropriate use of an artist's brush).