Restraints or a Blindfold

Chapter 21

With Rumple's support and by throwing herself into her school work, Belle has managed the first difficult weeks following her father's death. It is now early April. It's Spring Break for Belle and the Gallery opening for Rumple. Belle makes an unscheduled trip to New York and surprises Rumple at the Gallery where she is readily recognized as Rumple's model. After an exhaustive evening, he takes her to a little coffee and wine bar where she has ordered water.

"If any photographers see you in a coffee and wine bar drinking water, they'll assume you're pregnant." He abruptly realized what he'd said. "You aren't pregnant, are you?" he asked in a whisper. Now that was an enticing thought. This beautiful woman – his child.

"Oh lord, no," she answered quickly. "I just wanted water because, well, I'm not like you. Caffeine keeps me awake and wine can make me too sleepy."

Rumple squelched what he recognized was a twinge of disappoint.

"De-caf?" Tony suggested.

Belle nodded, "I guess."

And they were left alone for a moment.

"You coming here, at this moment, is such a terrific surprise," Rumple told her. "I was figuring it would be at least a week before I would be able to see you again. I've got so much to show you, places I want you to see, things to do."

Belle smiled, "And here I just wanted to spend time with you in the hotel room."

Rumple looked at her a moment and then gave her his slow smile, "That too."

The List

He'd made a list. He was proud of making a list. He didn't normally make lists, so it was monumentally out of character. It was a Belle-thing to make lists, but he so wanted Belle to have some idea of what there was to do.

She looked it over during breakfast which they shared in the hotel room.

"Well, definitely, your play. That is possible, isn't it? I mean, I heard it was sold out for months and months and scalpers were asking two thousand for a single ticket," she told him.

"Three thousand," he corrected her. "It's possible, I have some connections, you know. How would you feel about sitting in the orchestra pit? - if that's a problem we can sit up in the booth," he told her.

"Wow, either would be fine."

"Oh yeah, do you know who any of these people are?" he tossed a sheet in front of her with a couple of names on it – names of current female recording artists. He went on, "They both called wanting permission to cover some of the songs."

Belle gasped, "These ladies are very well known singers. If they want to cover your songs, you'll want to run it through Regina, so you can get your best deal."

"That's what I thought. I'd already passed it on to Regina and her head exploded. I didn't know what the big deal was."

"Ohh," Belle told him. "It's a pretty big deal. Now, let's see what else is on this list." It was a long list. "You know I only have seven days and have to get back to the airport by six to catch a flight back."

"So, we'll get started on the list. It's everything I could think of to do in New York. . . well, it's stuff I like to do."

"There seem to be a lot of walking food tours," Belle noted.

"I like to eat, and each area has its own special cuisine," he told her. "You'll want to sample them all."

"East Side, West Side, Soho, Harlem, Greenwich, wow, this list goes on and on," Belle told him. "And there are no end of horse and carriage rides we could go on – that sounds nice. But, of course, I want to go to the Metropolitan and the Guggenheim museums."

"Thought you might," Rumple told her. "And I'll arrange for a couple of those food tours and a carriage ride." He had something else in mind for the carriage ride. He was still trying to muster up his courage.

Before Belle was Born

Belle realized almost immediately that she would never get used to the photographers. They would wait outside of the hotel room and follow them everywhere. Belle assumed they were following Rumple, but he had laughed when she said this and he'd assured her that she was the one the photographers were following.

"You are so much more photogenic than I am," he told her as they stepped away from the hotel in the early evening. "They are very interested in the woman who has taken down the Beast of Broadway, the Monster of Media or whatever nom du jour they've taken to calling me this week."

"Taken down?" she repeated his words with some confusion.

He very nearly chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you didn't know my reputation when I was working here years ago. I was quite the demon, very demanding of musicians, disrespectful of the actors and actresses, outright ugly to the choreographers."

"Rude to crew?" she asked him.

"Oh, now that? My lord, no, never. The first lesson you learn in theater is never be rude to crew. Bring your stage manager candy, or crack, or women or whatever he's into, but don't piss him off. You won't find your props, your dressing room will be boiling hot or Siberia . . . or flea-infested, your costume will be smelly. You don't mess with crew."

"Well, at least you learned that," she told him with a smile.

"The hard way," he admitted. He grew silent. "I was drunk or high . . . or both, most of the time and only vaguely remember things. I do think that there might have been . . . some different woman. I didn't pursue them, you know. Women just seem to show up in my bed."

Belle shrugged. "Probably before I was born."

He scowled at her, "Probably," he reluctantly agreed.

"Was Milah one of those women, one of the ones who showed up in your bed?"

"Yeah, sorta," he admitted. "She had musical theater aspirations in those days. Met her in the light booth very late one evening. She was just wearing an overcoat."

"What made her different?" she asked him, curious about how this woman had gotten him to marry her.

"She got pregnant," he said shortly. "We had a type of closeness, but I don't think either one of us thought we were in love with the other. When she met Killian, she moved in with him and I guess I got meaner . . . and drunker."

"You felt betrayed?"

"And lonely. I was successful, very successful, but the men and women I met only seemed interested in me if they thought I might could help their careers along. That seemed to be the only reason that they were . . . uh . . . nice to me."

"And then, suddenly, you got tired of it all?"

This woman did seem to understand him. "It was all so meaningless. I never got time with my son and I did . . . do . . . love my son. After I pulled down the EGOT, I figured I'd done it all and I was tired of the big city. So, I traveled around a bit and just ended up in Asheville."

"Are you glad you came back here, to New York?" she had to ask.

He smiled at her, "Yes, I think. If nothing else, it's reminded me of why I left in the first place."

"So, you will, eventually, be coming back to Asheville?"

"Of course, my life is there," he said softly looking at her with such intensity that she blushed.

"So . . . when?" she asked him.

"Well, there are a couple of more things that I want to do while I was in New York."

"All right," she answered him.

"Let's have a nice meal and let's do something romantic," he said to her.

Carriage Ride

It was a nice meal. Three-star restaurants did tend to present diners with very nice meals. Much to Belle's delight, there was a horse and carriage waiting for them when they walked outside.

"A carriage ride!" She was excited – definitely one of the things she had wanted to do. But then her breath caught in her throat. It had gotten incredibly cold.

"Are we sure it's April?" she asked him. She found herself shivering in her thin coat as she was rocked with a blast of cold air, very cold air, very cold, wet air.

"This is New York, my dear. It can still be cold in April," he told her. He helped her into the carriage and wrapped a blanket across her and then put an arm around her, pulling her close so that she was able to share his body heat.

"This is so beautiful," she told him, nestled in next to him.

"I'm so glad. I guess it's my Romantic Soul, I always liked the idea of the occasional carriage ride, but Milah hated them – too slow, too stupid, messed up her hair, the seat was too hard . . ."

She laughed. "It is a little different in real life – the horse is a little," she hesitated, "farm-like."

"Yes, and some of the carriages aren't very comfy, but this one has cushioned seats," he agreed.

Belle looked up. She wasn't quite sure if she was seeing things correctly.

"Is it snowing?" she asked.

He looked up, "I guess. They had forecast a bit of a late season snow. Unusual, but not unheard of. It'll probably just drop a couple of inches on us."

Belle snuggled in next to Rumple, enjoying herself, leaning into Rumple, feeding off the heat of his body. The carriage ride in the snow, tucked in next to Rumple was just. . . was just perfect.

"You know I love you," he said quietly.

"I do, but I like to hear you say it. Just, as I'm sure, you like to hear me tell you how much I love you," she answered him, her head was on his chest, his arms around her.

He sighed.

"What's wrong?" she asked pulling away from him. He was antsy, almost nervous even. She knew him well enough that he was worried about something.

"Nothing's wrong," he reassured her. "But the music is off a bit," he struggled to put into words the complexity of his sensory input. "We aren't quite in harmony, almost, but not quite."

"Oh?"

"When I'm with you, you are a lilting tune that plays in and out of my own music."

"Like in the play when Jurgen is with the Lady of the Lake?" she asked.

"Yes, very much like that, the low warm brown tones of the cello mixed with the blue and silver of the celesta," he explained. "I still hear those bell-like sounds when you are in the room, when you move, when you speak. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

"And you put that into the music for the show," she whispered.

"You put that music into my head. You put music in my head every day. You put visions in my head. Nice ones. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you in my life. You are my inspiration, the best that I aspire to. Belle," he stopped for a moment and reached into his pocket. "I've been carrying this for a while waiting for the right moment, not sure if you would want to take this step."

Belle was looking at the little box.Tiffany's.

He looked directly in her eyes, "Would you do me the honor, Miss French? Marry me . . . please?"

She didn't bother to look in the box, instead throwing her arms around him. "Yes, yes, yes, of course."

"Oh good," he muttered, planting kisses on her face.

"What?!" she had to ask. "Did you think I would say no?"

"I wasn't sure," he admitted. "I can be a bit of . . . an arse."

"I would have been happy for us to continue as we've been going along, but this . . . this makes it even better."

He breathed out slowly, clearly relieved and the two rode along in silence for a while.

Then he asked, "What would you say to a honeymoon in Niagara Falls? Too hokey?"

Belle was laughing. "No, not at all. We can ride The Maid of the Mist," she told him. "But I've got school."

"So, we postpone the official honeymoon," he was amenable to this. "Now," he sat up, "things are about to get worse," he warned her. "Understand, all of this is subject to your approval. I'm willing to do whatever you want, but I'd like for us to go ahead and get the marriage license tomorrow morning and get married before you have to go back for your classes."

Belle was quick to respond, "Sounds good. I'm okay with not waiting. But I might like to see if I can find a nice dress."

"Of course. Milah told me there are several vintage shops that she thinks would suit your style."

Belle was silent a moment before she spoke, "Wait. Milah knew about this?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Since she'd just done it, I asked her how one went about getting married in New York and she . . . well, I guess, she just figured things out about us."

"Like it was hard," Belle said flatly.

He considered, "I guess, I guess it would have been pretty easy for her to figure out what I was up to. Did I mess up?" he asked.

"No, I understand a teensy bit about how your brain works."

They rode a while watching the snow as it began to accumulate.

"Do you have place for the ceremony picked out?" she asked.

"Uh . . . I don't know if you'll go for this, but I've always thought that one of the most romantic spots to be married is . . ."

She finished with him, "the top of the Empire State Building."

"Yes," he was surprised. "another one of my ideas that Milah always thought was stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid. I think it's wonderful, but," Belle was bewildered. "I didn't think you could get married there unless you were one of a handful of lucky couples on Valentine's Day."

"Well," he hedged, "I know enough people that I'm sure I can get us a little dispensation – there are some people who would like some free tickets to Broadway's latest smash hit – and I'm in a position to arrange such tickets. We will have to make the ceremony quick and have the reception somewhere else."

"Where?" she asked.

"Would that little deli be all right with you?" he asked.

"Fat Angels! I love that place. It's perfect," she told him.

The Women Talk

It was a whirlwind. Rumple had flown up Neal and Emma, along with Ruby and Jefferson. He'd arranged for them all to stay in the same hotel, after Ruby and Jefferson both promised to be on their best behavior which wasn't particularly reassuring with those two.

The couple decided to spend their last few nights as singles apart.

"It's probably silly, I know," Belle had told her friends. She was spending her last evening as a single woman at Fat Angels, drinking wine.

"Not at all. You want the wedding night to stand out," Ruby told her.

"Speaking of wedding nights?" Belle asked Ruby.

"Yeah, how about you and Archie?" Emma pursued the matter.

"Maybe, someday, maybe soon. We'll see. We're not in a hurry. It's not like one of us is really old and could just up and die any time – like half of some couples we know," Ruby said, pulling a face at Belle.

"Yeah, you know, we are concerned about that, Belle. I know Rumple is super-hot and all, but is he, well, is he everything a girl could hope for . . . sack-wise?" Emma asked.

Belle considered her answer. How much should she share about her private life with Rumple? These were her friends, but he was to be her husband. But then, she genuinely had no complaints. It wasn't like she would be revealing anything embarrassing.

"I can't say that he's ever failed to satisfy," Belle finally told her friends.

"But you won't say how frequently he's not failed to satisfy," Ruby pursued.

"Enough frequently," Belle told her. Belle looked at both her friends before continuing. "It may just be that I'm not very demanding, but two or three orgasms a night and I'm good to go."

Emma nodded, "That sounds about right."

Ruby also nodded soberly, "Yeah, that sounds good. Do you have a favorite place?"

"You mean - like Weaverville?"

"No, I mean like position, place, that kind of stuff. Like I like hot and hurried office desk sex," Ruby elaborated.

"I get off, pun intended, on car sex," Emma added.

"Oh," Belle understood now. "Well, he has this amazing bathtub, and then there's up against the wall and on . . . or against . . . the table . . . in a chair . . . uh . . . floor . . . oh, the bed, I almost forgot the bed."

Emma sighed, "So he's pretty mundane."

"I don't think so!" Belle protested. "Where else do you two do it?"

"Well, I've never done it with Emma, but I don't think that's what you're asking," Ruby answered mischievously. "But my strangest place has been in a satellite dish – ended up with little grid marks all over my ass."

Emma nodded sagely. "Yeah, I get that. For me, it was on one of the roller coasters at Carowinds."

"That doesn't sound comfortable," Belle observed. "Wasn't it kinda rushed?"

"It was after hours and the ride was set on automatic. It took us a couple of go-rounds. Nothing like going down a steep drop while you're catching your own wave."

Belle shook her head. "I just don't want to do it anywhere that I'm risking a trip to the ER . . . or getting arrested." She paused. "All right . . . once we did it standing in the window of his apartment building. He was in back of me . . ."

"I get it and I've heard enough," Emma spoke up. "To be sure, ladies, I'm not entirely comfortable talking about the details of the sexual prowess of the man who's likely to be my father-in-law. There's a definite euuh factor here."

"Well, it doesn't bother me. I want to know this stuff," Ruby protested. "I have to look out for my best friend."

"You're looking out for me?!" Belle was stunned. "This from the woman who used to tip the busker at the Wicked Weed with a condom and her phone number on the wrapper," Belle was shaking her head.

"Well, he was really hot," Ruby defended herself. "Hey, you would've been content to live your life working in a branch library with only a ten-inch vibrator as a companion. I just want to be sure you're trading up."

Belle couldn't resist, "Ten-inch vibrator? That sounds bladder-infection inducing. Let's say I'm trading . . . close to even," and she smiled at her friends.

Emma nodded. "Sounds about right, if there's any father-son similarity," she agreed.

Ruby looked at both women who were smiling smugly. "Well da-amn. Now, I might have to see if they have a cousin somewhere or something."

"Have you talked about babies?" Emma asked.

Belle paused. No, they hadn't.

And the Men Talk

In the back room of Per Se, a bar on the floor of the hotel, Rumple, Neal, and Jefferson were sharing some whiskey. All three were well into their cups.

"You are one lucky guy," Jefferson told him.

"I think so," Rumple agreed. "Every day I'm with the woman, it just seems to be getting better."

"Well, I've got to say, you seem so much happier since she's been a part of your life." Jefferson took a sip. "You keeping up with her?" he asked, seriously.

Rumple nodded. "'Fraid I'm going to stroke out before it's over, but my body responds every damn time she walks into the room. And once, never seems to be enough. Fortunately, she's pretty opened to weird so I've been able to keep things exciting for her."

"You don't know weird," his friend scoffed. "You think doing it on the dining room table is weird."

"It's not?" Rumple asked.

"Nah, weird is like doing it in a satellite dish, or the roller coaster at Carowinds, or during Schindler's List, or at somebody's funeral . . . or while skydiving."

"Those aren't weird – they just sound uncomfortable – and maybe disrespectful," Rumple told him. "I think of places other than the bed in the bedroom as weird."

"Oh come on, dad. No kinky experimentation? I mean, this woman's best friend is Ruby Lucas," Neil asked him.

"We've done whipped cream a few times . . . and I used one of my silk ties once."

"Restraints or a blindfold?" Jefferson promptly asked.

"Uhmmm . . . " Rumple hesitated. "Blindfold."

Jefferson shook his head. "You are sooo vanilla, but, what can I say, it seems to be working for you. Let me know if you ever feel a need to spice it up. I could see your Belle in tight restraints, even suspended."

Rumple looked at his friend, slightly askance. "I can't," he told him.

Neal had been laughing at this exchange. He spoke up, "She's been good for you, Dad. I thoroughly approve."

"Glad you like her, Neal. She's really helped me make some changes without . . . well, without seeming to do anything. She's just . . . there."

"And she's easy on the eyes," Jefferson joined in the toast, missing the raised glasses of the other two men.

"Here's to me," Rumple kept his own glass raised, "the luckiest guy in the world."

"You moving back to Asheville soon, I take it?" Neal asked him.

"Absolutely. I know Belle wants to finish her degree and then, there'll be your wedding to Emma and then . . . well, we'll see. Whatever Belle wants," Rumple answered. "I can work anywhere."

"Spoken like a man destined for wedded bliss," Jefferson observed.

"What is next for you, Dad? Will you keep painting, writing music . . . what?"

Rumple sat back. "Haven't given it much thought. I'll certainly continue painting – Belle just inspires me every moment. Maybe write. I haven't written in a while. I have a lot of ideas. You think I could write a novel?"

"Dad, you can do anything you put your mind to," Neal assured him.

"Except run a four-minute mile," Jefferson spoke looking at the bottom of his glass.

Rumple had to agree, "I'll never been known as 'Flash,' but I don't think that's a bad thing."

The men laughed shortly and then Neal asked, "Have you talked about babies?"

Rumple paused. No, they hadn't.

A.N. Thanks to all of you who bore with the Great Fanfiction Failure to Notify People of Updates of 2017, and especially to those of you who got back to me so quickly with your nice reviews: arynwy, Wondermorena, Grace 5231975, and Erik'sTrueAngel.

NEXT: The Fluffy Ending

I do have another story ready to be shoved out of the nest when this one is completed. It's a movie re-mix, a bit different than the usual Audrey Hepburn, Gene Tierney movies I've favored in the past but one I hope people will enjoy. -twyla