Sorry for the long wait! But I had a hard time thinking if the next chapter. I do have chapter 4 written, but not chapter 3… that one could take a while yet. I'm not quite sure of how I want it to go. Any way, I think I like this chapter more than the last one, I had no real idea of what I was going to write, so I just sat down and began. I think my writing is better that way. If that makes any sense. When I know exactly what I want to write, and exactly how I want it to happen I become less descriptive. Because the whole scene is playing out in my head I see every thing clearly. But it gets lost in translation, so to speak, and no one else sees what I'm trying to get across, at least not as nicely as I see it. But when I don't really know how things are going to play out, and I sit down to write it's like I'm trying to see the scene on paper and not in my head… well enough of that, here's the next chapter, hope you like,
and please, PLEASE review, I have none, and would really like to know what you guys are thinking. I would like suggestions on things and feed back!!!!
The air felt thick, and the dry sent of stale whisky and tobacco cloaked the room like a dense fog. The lights where dim and the room was smoky, the sound of clinking glass and idle chatter could be heard echoing throughout the room. Dollar bills hit the table and a bored looking Remy Lebeu put down another winning hand. Now Remy had always been good at poker, a natural who could beat the pants off anybody, but this was just ridicules. He'd been playing for about an hour now and his competition –If you could call them that- were hardly worth the effort, didn't anyone know how to play a good game any more? It almost felt like steeling. Not that Remy felt that there was anything particularly wrong with steeling, he was, after all a thief by trade. And a damn good one too.
But the grand and a half that he had won in the hour he had been at the table just seemed too easy to be worth his time. Because nothing worth doing was ever easy, as Jean- Luke would say, it was a general rule of life that Remy had adopted many years ago. That was not to say that he was not going to take the money, he wasn't an idiot, just a board man looking for something to do, or some one.
Looking around the darkened hole-in-the-wall bar Remy decided that there where definitely no true challenges in here, but just like the easy money from the poker game, some things could be made exceptional, for one night at least. Taking one last swig from his glace of bourbon and biding his table mates good night Remy collected his earnings and made his way to the bar in serch of a conquest for the night.
And there she is, a tall leggy Femme with black hair cascading down her back. She sat at the bar, legs crossed and just screaming for trouble. 'If it be trouble she wants, then it be Remy she gets.' A slow smile made its way onto his handsome face was he slid onto the stool next to her.
"Now what can I do fo' you cher?" his thick Cajun accent drifted through the room and girl looked over to Remy, coy smile in place darkening her sultry features. She had a touch to much makeup on, and her tiny black dress was rumpled in a way that told Remy he would not be her first partner tonight. And right now, Remy didn't care too much. It was late, he had more energy than was he needed, and if nothing else those long legs of hers looked like they where made to be rapped around his waist.
The dark haired girl gave him a quick once over, assessing his chances of getting into her bed, most likely, and her smile brightened. "Well you could start by getting me a drink." Her crass northern accent was only slightly off putting to Remy, but not enough to stop him from signaling the bar keep for another round.
"An' afft'a dat?"
"We'll see."
'We'll see' turned into Remy pressing her into the cold wall of the dingy bathroom stall as she rapped her legs around him in a vice like grip as he pounded himself into her with a reckless abandon that left them both breathless. Her arms clinging tightly to his shoulders and the sting of her nails as they dug into the skin of his neck made him push harder, faster. As did the breathless moans and half uttered fraises' she muttered between chanting his name like holy prayer. 'Huh, at least one of us remembered a name' vaguely he wondered if it was bad that he didn't remember her name, he wasn't even sure he asked. But those thoughts where ripped from his mind as she let out a particularly high pitched cry and her inner walls started to contract tightly. She was close, and Remy could feel it too. That delicious tingle that radiated heat throughout his body, so close, he could feel the glorious numbness starting to over take his mind. The girl was a mindless withering heap, clinging to him desperately as her release overcame her body. And with one final savage thrust Remy grunted his release, and sank fully into that mindless oblivion for just a few seconds, letting him forget every thing for just a while.
He forgot all the death, and the lying, and the cheating, and the loneliness, all the things he had to give up, or would never have, and for just a second or two he felt safe, he felt calm, he felt peace. But the reprieve was broken as the nameless dark haired beauty untangled her legs from around his waist and slid down to place her feet to the floor and straiten out her rumpled dress. The last vestiges of Remy's happy illusion were finally shattered as she gave a shaky laugh, and said "Hell, that was unexpected, you ever come back this way just give me a call and I'll come running." She withdrew a small peace of white paper with her name and number on it from her clutch and handed it to Remy. With out much care he took the paper and slipped it into his pocket. He wouldn't use the number; he thought, he had been right, no challenge.
As she left on shaky legs to reenter the smoky bar Remy looked after her until the door closed and he was once again left to his thoughts. He caught his reflection in the mirror and stared at himself for a moment. He was not yet 40, but too damn close for his tastes. At 36 he still had all the boyish charm he had at 20, the hard lines of his face adding a roguish element to his charming smile. As he tipped his head forward to slide his ever present sunglasses down, his auburn hair cast a shadow over his red and black eyes, his most captivating feature. Hardly a wrinkle in sight, nothing to show the hardships of life, or the never ending struggles that Remy had gone through.
Suddenly Remy felt tired, tired like a man his age had no right to feel. That hallow feeling had sunk back into the pit of his stomach, 'what now,' he thought, 'what do I do now?' it was a question he couldn't quite answer, though he knew there was one. Buzzing at the back of his mind, he knew that he had a reason for coming this far north. Pennsylvania was not a place he frequented.
Finally he was able to push himself away from the fogy mirror and pull himself together. He hated these moods he sunk into. Nothing good ever came out of self pity and sadness. He ran the cool water from the faucets and rubbed his face vigorously. The cool biting sting was just what he needed to push the shadows from his mind. As he dried his hands off on the sides of his jacket –no way was he touching the towels in this place- and righted himself, his phone gave a short, loud beep, signaling that he had missed a call. Well he had been occupied, he thought.
As he looked at the number Remy was suddenly reminded why he was in this shit hole bar in Pennsylvania, and he quickly punched in his pass code to listen to the message, his heart feeling just a bit lighter.
Sure enough it was Storm's voice that greeted him, reminding him of his promise. Like he needed reminding, he thought with amusement. He was already on his way to see her. He closed his phone and made his way out to pay his tab and hit the road again.
The Cajun's thoughts drifted to his long time friend, Storm. Ororo Monroe, a beautiful woman with kindest heart he knew of. She had been just a tiny thing on the streets of Cairo when he found her, abused and steeling to stay alive. She had reminded him so much of him self, that he had done more than just take her to the nearest orphanage. He took her with him, and gave her a home and a family with himself. They stayed together for a few years, until her powers had manifested and he took her Xavier's. A place he had heard might be able to help her. It was good for her that place, better than he was. He thought. So he left her there, in the kind hands of the professor to watch over her. He had thought about staying, the professor had even offered his a spot on the teem, but that wasn't for him, to stable. He needed to move and be free. But he did miss her company, and for some reason she seemed to miss him too. So they stayed in contact over the years, and she made him promise to come and see her every two years which he did, happily, like clock-work (a promise was thing that Remy never took lightly). Much to the chargen of visor clad leader of X men Remy thought with a smile. Scott did not approve of their friend ship or of Remy in general. And Remy just loved to annoy the hell out of Scott with every visit, and if that meant showcasing his worst habits (drinking, gambling, partying, ect.) and large amounts of flirting with both the older students and Jean, than Remy was more than happy to flaunt his faults and do so with a wide grin as Storm looked on with badly concealed amusement.
"Hurricane Remy" she had called him once, after one of his infamous visits in which he had managed to convince the older students that a massive party was a good idea, and that if they worked hard enough, through the use of there powers, hiding it would be no problem. It would have worked too, if Scott hadn't come crashing though the front doors of the mansion two hours early with the rest of the staff in tow catching Remy heading a Poker game.
Boy was Scott mad, mind you none of the other teachers where exactly happy with Remy either, but the fact that he had kept any alcohol and other illegal substances bard from the party, helped to ease some of the hard feelings. And when the professor had said to Scott that perhaps he was being a bit too harsh with Remy the dubious, sputtering, fish-out-of-water look on Scotts face was enough to keep Remy chuckling for the next few months. As was the fact that the augment had almost come to blows when Scott had pointed out that he had been teaching the kids how to gamble, and was that really the kind of thing they wanted to promote. But when Gambits only reply had been that most of the kids already knew the game, and it wasn't like they where using money (candy bars and cookies where about as high as the stakes at the table had gotten) Scott had gotten up and just about lunged at him before the professor had intervened.
Yes Remy had promised the professor that no more unannounced parties would take place with his visits and gotten off relatively scot free he still chose to serve the extra cleaning duties with the kids for the rest of his visit, and watch as the kids thru heated glances at Scott, and sang Remy's praises.
It wasn't that he disliked Scott, no; he thought he was an all right guy, just a bit to up tight, but the man just made it far too easy to get under his skin. And Remy found it far too amusing to get him riled up.
Feeling significantly lighter as a result of his reminiscing, Remy jumped the kick start to his bike and sped off into the knight, sharp winds hitting his helmet, and headed off in the direction of New York to keep his promise to an old friend.