Don't adjust your computer screens. This really is an update. An update that went through hell and high water. Or finals, graduating from college, a crashed computer, the holidays, the Music City Bowl (fire the refs!) and writer's block. I lost the entire update when my computer died as well as another fic I had planned on starting. I had to recreate this (working on the other fic now) and I have to say, I'm MUCH happier with it. Writer's block was nasty before Christmas. I'm interested to see what you all have to say about it – assuming anyone is even reading it now!
With the crashed computer, I didn't get to reply to reviews. Please accept my apologies and love for you all. I promise to respond to all reviews for this chapter!
THINGS I OWN: A crock pot. What a grown up Christmas gift. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl
"What's Victrola?" Blair wanted to know as she and Chuck entered the elevator.
"You'll find out when we get there," Chuck told her. Blair narrowed her eyes.
"Bass," she warned.
"Trust me, Waldorf," he drawled, leaning against the back of the elevator.
"I'd just as soon eat dirt. It's probably better for my health than trusting you."
"You could do with some nourishment," Chuck retorted. "Though may I suggest using a bib? We wouldn't want you to ruin that lovely Chanel you're wearing, now would we?" Blair sniffed and turned her nose up in the air. The gesture made Chuck smirk. They didn't speak the rest of the elevator ride, nor as they made their way through the lobby. Ever the gentlemen though, Chuck held the door for Blair and then the limo door, even as Arthur stood by. He gave Arthur his orders before sliding in beside Blair.
"Where are we going?" Blair tried again.
"You don't trust me, pretend to loathe being around me, and yet you're following me to an unknown location. Interesting," Chuck mused. Because it was.
"Everyone has their momentary lapses in judgment," Blair mused. "Besides, I've just been through a traumatic event. Clearly I'm not thinking straight."
"What exactly happened with you and Nathaniel anyway?" Chuck asked. He had set up the chain of events with his covert photo sent to Gossip Girl and was curious as to how things had fallen.
"I told you I didn't want to talk about it."
"That's fine. The news of you and Nathaniel's apparent demise will be on Gossip Girl by morning anyway. I'll sift through the rumors then. Or I'll just question Nathaniel. We're friends, remember?" Blair sighed.
"I went to talk to him about how he met up with Serena behind my back..."
"Talk? Or yell?" Chuck interrupted. Blair glared at him but continued.
"He didn't see where he was wrong. As I was about to explain it to him, Serena showed up with some sob story about how she'd been to visit Eric and needed someone to talk to. Clearly Nate hadn't told her he could no longer see her. And if he won't do this for me, I can't be with him anymore."
Chuck smiled to himself. His plan had gone perfectly, down to the letter. He was playing on Blair's weaknesses, her fear of being alone and of losing her position as queen and her boyfriend to Serena, but if he got her into his bed, it would be worth it. He was certain that one time with her would settle whatever weird fluttering he felt in his stomach when she was around. He just needed to get her out of his system. Then he could carry on with his usual debauchery with a clear conscious, free of the nagging voice in his head that whispered 'Blair' every time he was with another woman.
"You said you thought you broke up. So technically, you could still be together," Chuck said.
"Well, yes," Blair admitted. "But Nate has to make a choice. Me or her. And if he chooses her, we're done." Chuck had no doubt that Nate would choose Serena. Maybe not at first but definitely in the end.
"Waldorf, did you ever stop to think that maybe you'd be better off if Archibald chose the blond?" he asked her. She made him no answer. He wasn't looking for one. He could see the wheels in her head turning, the intent of his question. She remained in deep thought as the limo bended through the streets of New York and came to a stop outside of Victrola.
"Arthur, if I go missing, you're the last person who has seen me," Blair told the chauffeur as she exited the limo behind Chuck.
"Sure thing, Miss Waldorf," Arthur agreed with a gleam in his eye. He liked the Waldorf girl. He also liked his young boss more when the young Waldorf was with him.
"Ladies first," Chuck drawled, opening the door of Victrola for Blair. She cast a wary eye at him before entering the relatively unassuming building.
The sight took her breath. She had entered what looked like a strip club, but classier. Comfortable chairs and sofas scattered the room, some pulled up to expensive tables, others grouped together around poles or to form intimate seating areas. The room was empty, save for several women who danced in time to the music bounding from the loudspeakers. Blair stood entranced by them. They moved with a freedom she longed for, a confidence in their bodies that eluded her.
Chuck stood nervously nearby, watching Blair for her reaction. He hadn't realized until he had walked through the door just how much her opinion mattered to him. He wanted her to approve of his venture. He reasoned that it was because they shared similar relationships with their parents, but deep down, he knew he wanted to impress her, show her there was more to him than just the Upper East Side's resident bad boy. He watched as her eyes sparkled with a certain curiosity, desire even, as she watched his hired dancers.
"So, think big, bad Bart will go for it?" he finally asked, unable to wait any longer for her response.
"You want your dad to invest in a strip joint," she replied, turning to face him. "How midtown." But there was a small smirk on his face. It encouraged him.
"A burlesque club," he corrected, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her further into the venue. "A respectable place where people can be transported to another time. Where they can feel free to let loose. No judgment. Pure escape. What happens at Victrola, stays at Victrola." He waved his free hand over the stage to accentuate his point.
"Well, it does have franchise potential," Blair agreed, turning to face him again. She noticed the lack of contact the moment his hand dropped from her back. "Chuck Bass, I do believe all your years of underage boozing and womanizing have finally paid off. Truly, I am proud." Her praise made Chuck's lips turn into a genuine smile.
"And you are my toughest critic. Well, second toughest." It was then that Blair noticed he was still carrying the newspaper he had had in his hand when she arrived at his suite. It was the Wall Street Journal with no other than Bart Bass's photo on the front page, the phrase 'Bad Bart's Big Deal' as the headline. She understood what Chuck was up to then.
"So, you think your father will go for it?" she asked. Chuck held up the newspaper.
"It is exactly the kind of innovative thinking on which the Bass empire was built," he stated, letting some of his excitement slip through. "It is the perfect thing. I've been waiting for this." Blair smiled at his eagerness. She had known from almost their first encounter that there was more to Chuck Bass than met the eye. Now she had another piece of the puzzle.
"He'll love it," Blair assured him. Blair's confidence in him boosted his own. He felt surer now that he could do this. He could pitch this plan to Bart and win his approval.
"Victory party, tomorrow," he announced. "Tell everyone. And I'll send a car for you."
"I'd better be on the VIP list if I'm promoting this shindig for you, Bass," she teased.
"Where else would you be?" Chuck asked. They traded a smile. Both of them knew neither of them would ever be anywhere else. That was simply the way of the world when you were a Bass or a Waldorf.
Blair lounged comfortably on the sofa in the living room, her sketch pad resting on her knees as Dorota flitted around her with a feather duster. Her pencil worked furiously yet carefully over the design unfolding before her, a design that would likely go unseen with the exception of Dorota who would stop to peer over her mistress' shoulder every once and a while and offer her unwanted opinion.
No one, not even Serena or Nate, knew Blair spent time with a sketch pad. She was careful to hide her drawings, not wanting to risk her mother's eyes falling on them and ridiculing them when she was often so proud of them. Her sketches were usually of gowns and day dresses though sometimes children's clothing and baby apparel made their way into her work as did the occasional interior, usually a living room or bedroom.
"You should put bow on shoulder," Dorota advised, once more peering over Blair's shoulder.
"You should get back to dusting," Blair retorted, never taking her eyes or pencil off the paper before her.
"What bothering Miss Blair?" Dorota questioned. "You sketch when sad or need to think."
"I'm fine," Blair replied automatically. "Just fine." Truthfully, all she could think about was Nate. Serena. Nate. Serena. Even Chuck floated in sometimes though she chose to ignore those particular thoughts.
"You not," Dorota muttered under her breath, returning to dusting. Blair ignored her and focused on her drawing. She frowned. Dorota was actually right. A bow on the shoulder would be the finishing touch the dress needed. She set to adding one and had nearly finished it when the elevator dinged.
"Blair?" came Nate's voice. Dorota and Blair looked at each other.
"Stall him," Blair hissed. Uttering her agreement, Dorota hurried out of the room. Blair quickly stuffed her sketchpad and pencils into a nearby drawer and checked her appearance in a mirror. Satisfied with how she looked, she stepped out into the foyer where Dorota was pestering Nate with small talk he clearly wasn't interested in.
"Nate," she greeted in a neutral voice.
"Blair," he replied in an equally controlled voice. "Can we talk?"
"In my room," Blair agreed. She led the way up the stairs. Nate closed the bedroom door behind her. "Well?" Nate sighed.
"Blair, I can't do this anymore," he said. It looked like it took all the courage in the world for him to admit that. "Neither of us are happy and that's not fair to either of us." Blair studied Nate for several long moments, thinking about how she wanted to respond. Then, she took a deep breath and nodded. She could tell by the look on Nate's face that he was surprised at her so far calm reaction.
"I can't do this either," she agreed. "You love Serena. You always have."
"Love might be too strong of word, at least right now, but yeah, there are definitely feelings there." Nate shifted from foot to foot nervously, his hand stuffed deep in his khakis. "But Blair, you have to know, I do love you. I'm just not - in love with you." Blair nodded again.
"I think it was the idea of us that I was in love with," she admitted. "I've thought a lot about this recently. I love you too, but like you said, I'm not in love with you. I guess you're more of a - best friend." At this, Nate smiled cautiously.
"I was always second fiddle to Serena," he said. "At least until she took off."
"I'm not going to forgive her for that," Blair stated. "At least not anytime soon."
"You really should talk to her," Nate said carefully. "She misses you. And she had reasons for leaving."
"Nate, don't defend her. Not to me. You don't understand."
"Fair enough," Nate agreed. He removed a hand from his pocket. "I figured you'd want this back." He held his hand out to Blair. She gingerly took the gold heart pin from him, the same one she had sewn into the sleeve of his sweater on a romantic whim.
"Thank you doesn't seem like the appropriate thing to say," she said, closing her hand around it.
"No, it doesn't," Nate agreed. "I should probably get going." Blair nodded in agreement. The former couple stared at one another for a long moment. Finally, Nate stepped forward and wrapped Blair in a hug. Blair buried her face in his shoulder, tears springing to her eyes as she realized this really was the end of her and Nate, of her perfect fairytale romance.
"Bye, Blair," Nate said, pulling away. With a final half-hearted smile, he left. Blair sank onto her bed, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
It didn't feel how she thought it would feel. She had always pictured break ups as being loud and dramatic, much the way her parents had been in the days leading up to and immediately after their divorce. She had pictured photos of the couple being thrown by the scorned woman, the glass shattering as it connected with the wall. The woman was supposed to storm out, taking a suitcase of her things with her and promising to be back for more or else she was supposed to lock the man out of their home and toss his things from their bedroom window while he stood on the sidewalk below. It wasn't supposed to be a quiet mutual agreement and a bittersweet hug before parting ways.
She had allowed herself, once or twice before, to think about how things would be if she and Nate broke up. She had always seen herself as devastated, broken hearted. She didn't expect to feel like a weight had been removed from her shoulders. It felt like a world of possibilities had suddenly opened to her. An unbidden image of Chuck Bass passed through her mind and she dismissed it just as quick. As though on cue, her phone chimed with a text message.
Party is on. Car will b there at 10. - C
Blair smiled even as another tear rolled down her cheek. She would go to Victrola tonight. She would have fun. And tomorrow, she would take on whatever was next.
True to his word, a limo pulled up to Blair's building just before 10pm. Reminding Dorota that it was Friday night when she questioned where she was heading, Blair slipped into the limo, pleased to see that it was Arthur who was driving her. She had expected one of the Bass Industry cars, not Chuck's personal chauffer.
As the car carried her towards Victrola, she heard Chuck's voice repeating that Victrola was a place to escape, to be transported to another place and time. Escaping was exactly what she needed. She had allowed herself to be concerned over whether Nate was going to be there while she had dressed, only to read a Gossip Girl blast, complete with picture, that showed Nate and Serena in Brooklyn of all places, far away from Victrola. She hoped they stayed there. The car stopped and Arthur opening her door signaled that she had arrived. She'd barely stepped out of the limo when Chuck appeared.
"Waldorf," he stated. Blair could practically feel his eyes rake over her. "You look stunning."
Blair felt self-conscious as she always did when complemented. "It's a Waldorf Original," she explained, indicating the dress. It was habit to deflect, to refer to her outfit or a pair of shoes when someone told her she looked nice. In her mind, she could never look good enough. Chuck shook his head, his eyes on her as he closed the space between them.
"It's not the dress that's stunning. It's the Waldorf wearing it that I was referring to," he whispered in her ear. Blair shivered involuntarily at how close he was, his cologne filling up her nostrils.
"Thank you," she nearly stuttered. Chuck just smirked and led her past the line of people waiting to get in.
"It's early, but I'm going to take a chance and call opening night a success," Blair said, observing both the line of people outside and the packed club once she was through the doors.
"I'm Chuck Bass," was Chuck's reply. Blair rolled her eyes, but this time, it was out of fondness instead of disgust.
"Well, Bass, I'm counting on you to show me a good time tonight. You said that this was a place where people could escape. And I need to escape." Chuck sat down on a sofa directly in front of the main stage and motioned for Blair to join him. He signaled for drinks to be brought to them.
"Ah yes. You and Nathaniel are done. He told me as much when he declined my invitation to come celebrate with me tonight."
"I don't want to talk about it," Blair said determinedly. She took the drink that was being offered to her and leaned back on the sofa. Chuck took his as well, smirking. Blair was right where he wanted her.
A couple of hours passed and Blair found herself more relaxed than she had been in a while. She knew part of it was the martinis she had been sipping on. Nowhere near intoxicated, the alcohol had loosened her normally tightly wound body and she found she was actually enjoying herself. Chuck, who kept disappearing to mingle with his party goers, or, as Blair suspected, recruit whomever he chose to sleep with that night, returned to her side.
"Escaped yet, Waldorf?" he asked over the pounding music. She made him no reply. She was entranced by the dancers on stage, marveling more now than she had the day before at how free they were, how utterly uninhibited they danced around their poles, revealing more and more of their bodies but never too much. Chuck sat back and took another drink from a passing waitress, content to watch Blair.
"You know, I've got moves," she said. She kept her eye trained on the stage, her head bobbing ever so slightly to the music.
"Really?" Chuck asked, his signature smirk prominent. He tilted his head toward the stage. "Then why don't you get up there?" Blair laughed and shook her head.
"I'm just saying, I've got moves." Chuck raised an eyebrow and took a swig of his drink. Blair eyed him suddenly. "You don't think I'll get up there." Chuck shrugged casually.
"I know you won't."
Blair stared him down. She had wanted to escape, to be someone else if only for a while. What better way than doing the last thing anyone, least of all her, expected? Her mind made up, she pushed her drink toward Chuck.
"Guard my drink," she stated as she stood. Chuck motioned toward the stage and sat back to enjoy the show, certain Blair would back out just before her feet hit the stage. He was floored, however, when she stepped onto center stage, claiming the spotlight as her own.
Chuck was entranced. He couldn't look away. The room and it's occupants had fell away, leaving just him and Blair and the distant sound of music. He watched as Blair, the prim and proper queen of the Upper East Side, started to dance, timidly at first then with growing confidence as the crowd around her cheered her on. He felt his mouth go dry as she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She twirled around a pole almost expertly, a small smile on her face. There was no other word for it. She was amazing.
"Who is that girl?" came a voice from behind him. He didn't even look to see who it belonged to, unwilling to take his attention away from Blair for even a moment.
"I have no idea," he answered. 'But she's mine,' he though possessively as the song finished. She picked up her dress to the cheers that surrounded her. Chuck was by the stage to meet her as she left it.
"That was amazing!" she gushed, throwing herself into Chuck's arms, still half undressed. Chuck, aware of how close to naked she was, pulled her to him. Instead of trying to feel her up as he would have done to any other girl, he merely held her to him and buried his nose in her hair.
"You were incredible," he confirmed. He unwillingly let her go when she pulled away to put her dress back on. Around him, men – and even some women – were ogling her. He had suddenly had enough burlesque for the night. "You were right about opening night being a success," he told her. "I think I'm going to call it a night. Care for a lift home?" Blair nodded as she zipped up her dress.
"That would be great," she said. Chuck took her hand, the usual spark of electricity passing between them, and lead her to his limo.
A comfortable silence filled the back of the limo. Chuck, tired from two busy days of business proposals and grand openings, leaned against the seat, somewhere between sleep and awake, the liquor in his system keeping him warm. Exhaustion was catching up with Blair as well as she let her head rest against the back seat, her guard down as her eyes fluttered shut and she fought sleep.
Chuck kept sneaking peeks at Blair, his mind full of her. She had amazed him earlier, had shown him a side of her he was more than certain no one else had seen before. He knew she would probably regret her dance tomorrow, but he would remind her, he decided. He'd remind her of how free she had been, how beautiful. He was watching her, observing how her eyelashes rested on her cheekbones, when her eyes fluttered open and she looked over at him.
"Thanks for the lift home," she told him. He couldn't stop the smile his lips turned into.
"You were amazing up there," he told her.
It was in the moments that followed that their paths would change. Blair didn't see Chuck Bass as she looked at him then. She saw Chuck, the guy who remembered her favorite flower was a peony and followed her into the ladies' room to tell her she was beautiful and didn't need to hurt herself. In that moment, he wasn't the guy who had become notorious for his womanizing and drinking and who had been tabloid fodder in Australia since he was 12. He was a boy who desperately wanted his father's approval and who seemed to know her better than she knew herself. She slid across the seat so their legs were touching.
Chuck wanted her. If she were any other girl, he would have just taken her. But she wasn't just a girl. She was Blair. She was the one woman who had had his attention since the moment she had walked up to him and Nate on his first day of school. He had told her more about himself than he had ever revealed to anyone. She knew him and he was eager to know her. He leaned in but waited for Blair to make the next move. She did.
Their lips met briefly, but the fireworks were there, just as they had been the night he had pushed her against the wall at the Kiss On The Lips party. He somehow knew what she was thinking as he leaned closer.
"Are you sure?" he whispered. Blair's answer was to kiss him again as she slipped into his lap.
It was everything Chuck had wanted since day one. As he ran his hands over her soft curves and kissed her fiercely, he felt her reacting, pulling him closer to her, her hands in his hair and on his chest. He was intoxicated by her. He wanted her. As his hands slipped under the skirt of her dress, he realized he was going to take Blair Waldorf's virginity.
He stopped.
"Blair," he breathed.
"Don't stop," she whispered, moving to kiss along his neck.
"Blair," he tried again, this time reaching for her hands which were working on his shirt buttons.
"What?" she asked, remaining in his lap but sitting back. She looked confused.
"This isn't right," he told her. He was as surprised as anyone to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He had taken plenty of willing girls' virginity and been gone by morning, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to Blair.
"I said I was sure, remember?" Blair asked. She leaned forward to kiss him again, but Chuck stopped her.
"I won't do this," he told her, gently removing her from his lap. "I won't let you lose your virginity to me, in the back of a limo. You deserve better than that." He felt his stomach – or maybe that was his heart – clench as her eyes filled up with tears.
"You don't want me," she stated. She moved as far away as she could in the limo, righting her dress and recoiling away from Chuck.
"Blair," Chuck tried, "that's not it at all."
"You're Chuck Bass. You're supposed to do anything in high heels."
"Blair." Chuck wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her she was more to him, that he was interested in her as more than a one night stand. But he was Chuck Bass and he didn't get close to anyone, let alone a girl. He was battling with his own demons, just as he could tell Blair was battling with hers.
"Arthur, you can drop me off here," Blair ordered. The limo slowed, but Chuck wasn't having it.
"No, Arthur, you will drop Miss Waldorf off at her penthouse." Blair opened her mouth to argue. "I won't have you walking around the streets of New York in the dead of night by yourself." His tone was stern, serious. Blair didn't argue, but looked away from him, trying to determine where they were and how soon they would be at the Waldorfs.
"Blair, please, you'll thank me for this in the morning," Chuck tried. She had to, he reasoned. He knew she was one of those girls who envisioned their first time a lot differently than the back seat of the limo. She had to realize he was right. She didn't speak to him again and ignored him completely as he escorted her to her door. The late night doorman gave him a pitying smile as he held the door for Blair. Chuck, feeling terrible despite being certain he had made the right decision, returned to his limo and ordered Arthur to take him home.
Blair held back her tears as the elevator ascended to the penthouse. She felt worthless. She had never been a match for Serena van der Woodsen, her proof being that Nate had chosen the leggy blond over her again and again, whether it was to lose his virginity to or when it came down to whether he was going to remain her boyfriend or be Serena's friend. Even Chuck Bass who slept with anything that moved had rejected her.
Once the elevator opened, she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom, not bothering to turn on lights. She crashed into the bathroom and yanked her dress off. She expertly turned on both the sink and the shower before kneeling over her porcelain friend.
Waits with bated breath to find out if people are actually still reading... :)