CHAPTER THREE- DINNER AND A SHOW
Hannibal parked his BMW a short distance from the restaurant, walked around the car and opened the door for Clarice. As she exited, wearing a deeply cut, knee length blue-violet dress, collective heads turned. Her copper hair cascaded down the open back of the garment finishing just above the area Hannibal was accustomed to resting his hand; the curve of her bare back just as it reached her bottom.
Clarice took his hand and exited the car, brushing a kiss across his lips as she stepped on the curb. She straightened his tie, smiling when she realized that it exactly matched the hue of her dress; obviously his discreet way of publicly claiming her as his own.
"You are a goddess, my Love. With you on my arm, I am the envy of every man."
She rested her hand on his chest enjoying the strong thump of his heartbeat increase ever so slightly at the contact. She leaned into him, her body the full length of his and whispered in his ear, "H… there are no other men."
He took her hand, kissed it spoke lovingly in return, "There never has been, nor will there will never be a woman equal to you in my eyes."
As they walked together to the restaurant Hannibal placed his hand again on the small of her back and stroked his thumb back and forth like a metronome enjoying the sensual shift of her muscles as her hips swayed to match his pace.
The host welcomed the couple and escorted them to the small round table Hannibal reserved. It was situated in an exceptionally quiet corner of the restaurant beneath a colorful painting Clarice favored of indigenous people wearing hats.
The area was secluded but afforded a panoramic view of the restaurant and a very clear view of the window and front door. Hannibal helped Clarice to her seat, leaving her back to the door but allowing full view of her favorite painting. Ever vigilant he took the seat in full view of everything else.
The waiter approached. "Doctor Dante. Would you like to begin your meal with a glass of wine or a cocktail? I can provide you with our wine list." He offered the list of libations.
Hannibal lifted a hand in refusal paused as he called to mind the exact image of the wine list he had seen on their last visit. "Yes, wine… a Malbec…Catena Zapeta."
"Certainly, do you have a preferred vintage?"
"I believe I recall the two thousand-five on the menu, the full bottle and two glasses, please."
"Yes, of course."
The waiter handed returned with the menus and withdrew discreetly, sporting the smile of a man who realized that if the service was exceptional and the couple enjoyed their meal in privacy, the tip would be large.
Clarice understood the waiter's smile meant this was probably not a ten dollar bottle of wine. She tapped Hannibal's hand to get his attention. Her voice had a hint of playfulness, "Okay, fess up, Handsome…how much for the Malbec, whatever that is?"
Hannibal reviewed the menu as he spoke, "It is an Argentinian wine, listed at one hundred thirty five dollars per bottle. It is not what I am accustomed to, more a compromise for your sake as I am doing my best to be mindful of your feelings."
Clarice smiled at his presumed thoughtfulness, "I'm curious, H. What feelings are you being mindful of?"
Hannibal set the menu down, folded his hands and calmly addressed Clarice's question, "You abhor frivolous spending, thus I'm attempting to be more conservative in that vein. Understand however that while I'm willing to make adjustments, I patently refuse to drink wine dispensed from a plastic bladder tucked within a cardboard box!"
Nodding in appreciation of his efforts Clarice responded, "It's much more reasonable than the seven hundred dollar a bottle Montrachet you had served at the wedding."
"The wine of which you speak of had been served exclusively to our private guests at the head table. The local guests were served a respectable but far less discerning 2009 Bzikot Puligny Montrachet Folatieres costing just below one hundred dollars a bottle. Do keep in mind it was our wedding day Clarice, marking the beginning of our lives together. In future, out of respect for your wishes I'll not repeat that level of ostentation."
Clarice covered his folded hands with hers. She squeezed his hands gently, "Well, I just want you to know that I recognize and appreciate that you're making an effort."
Hannibal turned his hands over to hold hers. "One tries, my Love."
The waiter returned with the bottle and poured a sample for Hannibal's approval.
Hannibal reluctantly released his wife's hand, took the glass by the stem and swirled the wine very quickly, coating the sides of the glass and releasing the aroma. He bowed his elegant head until his nose dipped within the glass, closed his eyes and took several quick and successively deeper inhalations. Satisfied, Hannibal drew the wine into his mouth and worked it over his tongue, allowing it to seep to the back of his throat so the aromas would ascend to his nasal passages.
The waiter did not speak until Hannibal opened his eyes and looked in his direction. Understanding that Hannibal's eye contact gave him permission to speak the waiter questioned, "Does it meet with your satisfaction, Sir?"
Hannibal nodded and added his affirmation, "Yes, thank you. If you would do me the favor, please, first serve my lovely wife."
The waiter bowed slightly at the waist, "Of course, Doctor, as you wish."
The waiter poured for Clarice, filled Hannibal's glass and placed the bottle on the table. "Are you prepared to place your order?"
"Yes, thank you, if you would excuse me." Hannibal turned from the waiter and leaned to Clarice. "Would you enjoy beef, lamb, fish, deer or boar tonight, Clarice?"
"I've been as close to any boar as I will ever want to be so let's just settle on beef tonight."
He smiled at her reference to Verger's pen. "What of soup, my Love?"
"You're the culinary expert, H. Order for me…I trust you."
"Thank you for your confidence, Clarice."
Hannibal turned to the waiter, prepared.
"We will begin our meal with sopa crema de papa y puerro, followed by insalata…patagonian. For the main course, the lady will have bife de chorizo con pure' de batata, I will also have the pure' de batata though I would prefer the arrollado de cordero con hongos y salsa de miel to the chorizo."
Pleased with his choices, Hannibal handed the menus to the waiter who quickly removed himself.
"So, what am I eating?" Clarice asked excitedly.
"You are having a creamy potato and leek soup, followed by an arugula salad with bleu cheese and walnuts. Your entrée is freshly made beef sausage with mashed sweet potatoes."
"That sounds wonderful! What are you having?"
"Exactly the same, however my entrée is not beef. I have chosen coiled lamb with mushrooms."
"Really? Lamb, H?
"It isn't as if it's your lamb, Clarice."
"Very funny!"
The couple's playful exchange was interrupted as a large and obviously inebriated man blasted through the front door and loudly announced his presence.
"Table for one and make it good…not near the crapper or the kitchen door or anything!"
Clarice made no effort to hide her disgust when she heard the man's southern drawl. "Jesus, the uncouth bastard would have to be an American! No wonder half the world hates us."
Hannibal didn't speak. He glared at the man as if willing him to silence.
The portly man saw Hannibal staring and boomed at Lecter. "What are you looking at, Nancy?"
"Nancy?" Hannibal was confused and checked with Clarice for understanding. She translated.
"He just made a reference to your sexuality but he was way off!"
Hannibal's red eyes flashed through his blue contacts, giving the masked irises an eerie purple glow.
Clarice steadied his hand, now drawn into a fist. She pried opened his tightly balled hand and laced her fingers between his, gently holding his hand. Her loving contact relaxed him immediately.
"Come on, H. We don't want our dinner ruined by the likes of Fat Bastard."
Hannibal often watched movies of her choosing and laughed heartily at the Austin Powers reference.
"Get in my belly!" Hannibal mimicked in the character's brogue.
Clarice laughed so hard she almost spit a mouthful of wine across the table. "That's why I love you, H. If anyone knew how silly you are…"
"I love and treasure you as well, Clarice."
The waiter delivered the soup to their table. Hannibal dipped his spoon and ladled it away from his body. As he placed the spoon in his mouth, he concentrated on the warm, smooth texture and taste. The Doctor placed his thoughts far away from the oaf now seated two tables away from their own.
Clarice and Hannibal settled into their meal as the loud man in near proximity reviewed the menu.
The waiter, a very articulate young man proficient in several languages, was attempting to pacify Fat Bastard by patiently translating the menu. Though his English was quite good and his accent not at all detracting from the translation, the man insisted that the waiter repeat himself several times.
Hannibal's patience was growing thin. Other patrons in the restaurant whispered, obviously disturbed by the man's presence as well. Hannibal shifted his focus to pouring himself his third, or was it his fourth full glass of wine?
"Jesus Christ, don't any of y'all speak any goddamned English? I don't do Mexican." The boor boomed causing the waiter to retreat.
"Mexican?" Hannibal's patience was now at an end. He gulped back the wine, set down the glass, forcefully shoved his chair backward along the floor and stood.
Clarice reached for him, realizing he had a lot to drink and not knowing how he would react to the alcohol in his system. Terrified, she whispered. "H…Where's your Harpy?"
Although he heard her very clearly, Hannibal was shocked that it was even a thought. "Pardon me?"
"Stop..." She whispered her plea.
"Clarice, there is no need to be afraid. You must know that I would never endanger you."
He reached for her cheek and stroked the back of his hand against her soft skin. It pained him to see the worry in her eyes and he sought to console her. "You have nothing to worry about, my Love. I was merely going to assist in the translation."
"He's obviously Southern, H. I speak his language, you don't. I'll assist him. You go on ahead and enjoy your soup."
Clarice walked over to the table in a friendly manner. Hannibal could not hear the exact exchange, but noticed that Clarice amped up her accent and it was obvious that the large man was quite taken with her. She waved the waiter over and helped him order his meal. He chose the beef sausage, fried potatoes, no vegetables and a cheap red wine. Moments later, she returned to Hannibal's side, smiling widely.
"It's a good thing they had sausage. He wasn't too thrilled to hear about their trout ravioli."
Hannibal and Clarice enjoyed the rest of their meal in relative peace. If the man became loud, Clarice would smile at him and tamp her hand downward, a friendly signal for him to lower his tone. The man blushed each and every time she looked in his direction. Seeing the oaf's obvious physical interest in Clarice, fueled by an excess of wine and being exceedingly territorial by nature, Hannibal was seething.
The waiter delivered the bill and Clarice watched intently as Hannibal paid the tab. He was very discreet as he handled the financial exchange, frustrating Clarice. She was trying to figure out how much he tipped because in the past, as soon as any waiter checked his payment, they would invariably return to the table and practically genuflect. This waiter was no different, returning to Hannibal, shaking his hand and bowing graciously.
As the waiter retreated, Clarice teased. "Hey, Don Corleone… I thought he was going to kiss your ring."
"I tip well, Clarice. A gratuity is not only a recognition of fine food and service on the night, but to insure that one will be well attended to on future visits. The young man was merely showing his appreciation."
Hannibal stood, moved Clarice's chair back and extended his hand, leading her to stand. He then placed his free hand on her lower back and guided her gently in the direction of the door.
As Clarice and Hannibal passed Fat Bastard's table, the fool reached out and grasped Clarice by the wrist. "Hey pretty lady, you sure you don't want to stay a while. I could buy you a couple of drinks and maybe offer you a little dessert. I'm sure Nancy here won't mind."
Hannibal attempted to move forward but Clarice stepped in front of him and placed her hand on the center of his chest, symbolically holding him back. She yanked her other hand from the man's grasp.
"Sorry to disappoint but my husband and I have plans this evening. Enjoy your meal and your vacation and have a safe trip back to the States." She reached for Hannibal. "Come on H. Let's go."
"Husband… Nancy? Y'all are pullin' my leg! Fancy boy here ain't into women."
Hannibal reached for Clarice, grasped her by the wrist and elbow controlling her movement and very gently, but with conviction, moved her to his right side. He extended his hand to the man.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Doctor Marco Aurelio Dante, and may I present my wife, Clarice Dante."
The portly man ignored the gesture. Hannibal withdrew his hand.
"If Marco's your name, why does she call you H? Can't y'all spell?"
"The use of the initial 'H' does not represent my name, but rather an affectionate appellation to denote our familial connection. It is my wife's recognition of my loving and devoted status as Husband."
Clarice was thankful Hannibal was quick on his feet and had been able to cover her mistake so quickly.
The man craned his neck to look past Hannibal and address Clarice directly. "Hey, Gorgeous… It's cuz he's rich, right? Don't tell me you actually want to sleep with him!"
Clarice moved forward, leaving Hannibal's side and poked the oaf in the chest.
"I more than want him…and believe me, in his bed, I get very little sleep. If you could provide a woman one tenth the satisfaction my husband gives me you wouldn't be sitting in a foreign country all by your lonesome stuffing your fat face with sausages."
Still enraged at the indignity with which the man addressed her husband, Clarice stepped behind Hannibal, her assent that he could now handle the situation as he saw fit.
"I'm through protecting this idiot…He's all yours, H."
The fat man stood. "Yeah…I'm all yours H."
Hannibal removed his jacket and pushed his shirt sleeves up. He moved in an intensely threatening manner and squared off with the much larger man. Instead of the expected physical confrontation, Hannibal again extended his hand and winked a challenge.
The larger man hesitated, but soon understood Hannibal's defiant invitation and grasped his hand using what he believed represented a firm and impressive grip.
Hannibal was amused by the man's confidence and smiled knowingly. Lecter's hand was quite large for a man his size and unusually strong- a virtual vise forged from decades of intense training on the piano. He continually applied pressure and soon the smooth tension escalated to a crushing assault.
The wait staff had gathered, forming a wall of sorts, separating the conflict from the rest of the guests but content to let Hannibal handle the unruly guest. Clarice and Hannibal's waiter watched and listened intently, excitedly translating for the other workers.
Hannibal spoke softly so as not to disturb the other diners, as he continued to collapse the man's hand. "I assure you, my corpulent friend, that while I am indeed heterosexual, the only person to whom I feel the need to demonstrate that fact is my wife, and I promise you, I make it a point to prove it to her several times a day- every day. Now, if you continue with your rudeness in her company, I will take great offense. I would appreciate if you would extend to her, an apology for your graceless behavior. Be assured I will not make this request a second time."
By now, the man's hand turned white, his fingers grinding into each other as Hannibal rolled his grip to manipulate the metacarpal bones, exacerbating the man's agony. Bone now crunched against bone and forced almost to his knees and sweating profusely the fat man folded into his chair, his body and spirit crushed under Hannibal's merciless grip.
"Sir…My wife awaits your apology and my patience is growing thin."
The man spoke contritely. "I'm sorry, Ma'am…I meant no disrespect to you or your husband."
"Thanks, apology accepted." Clarice nodded to Hannibal. He released his grip.
The staff quietly clapped their hands in obvious appreciation for Hannibal's show of force.
Seeing he had an audience, Hannibal waved to the amused waiter who quickly shoved something in his pocket. Lecter turned his attention to his foe.
"If you will, allow me the honor of providing for your dinner this evening." He reached into his breast pocket, opened his wallet and handed the waiter a one hundred peso note, knowing from the dinner and the cheap wine Fat Bastard ordered that it would more than cover the check and a large gratuity. The waiter accepted and smiled graciously. When he returned to his friends, the waiter again reached into his pocket.
Hannibal placed his arm around Clarice. "Come, I promised you chocolates."
"You promised me more than that, Husband."
"Pardon, my Love?"
Clarice, still fuming at the insinuations directed at Hannibal's sexuality, believed it her role to defend him. She glared at the offender then shifted her attention to her husband. Seeking shock value, Clarice seductively grasped Hannibal's hips, pulled him against her and leaned provocatively into his body.
"You promised, H…remember…until dawn!"
Though not a man normally given to public displays of affection, Hannibal's legendary self-control had been drowned by copious amounts of alcohol, thus Nature firmly overruled Reason. He crushed his body against hers as animalistic urges and primal instincts took control. He growled his pleasure, his lips taking hers as he passionately, rather indiscreetly and very, very publically claimed his wife as his own.
Moments later an unabashed Hannibal released his wife, kissed her softly on the cheek, and smoothed an errant curl away from her flushed face. He then took a deep breath, straightened his tie, put his jacket on and allowed himself a moment to regain his composure.
"Give me the keys, H. You've had a bit to drink tonight so I'll drive the Beemer."
"Anything you wish, my Love." He handed her the car keys and smiled.
Before leaving, Hannibal Lecter addressed the boorish man, his hand in pain and his mouth still agape.
"If you will please excuse me, as you can see, my wife desires my attention. Being forever the dutiful husband, her needs must be fulfilled before my own…anything less would be ungentlemanly."
Satisfied as any male animal would be when his territory had been successfully marked, Hannibal put his arms around his Clarice, waved a goodbye to the staff and excused himself. The pair left the restaurant aware of the pleasantly bemused smiles on the faces of everyone inside, save one less than amused and rather impolite Southerner.
Neither Hannibal, nor Clarice noticed the waiter had captured most of the incident on his cell phone.
LOGAN'S BUDDY
Logan Marley and Ardelia Mapp had been seeing each other for three months. He was fun and Ardelia had gotten tired of aggressive idiot juice heads like Gym Boy. Plus, he was pretty and Ardelia loved pretty boys. The pair met up after their shifts to work out at Quantico's gym.
"Hey, Dee, heard from your girl recently?" Logan asked as he trotted on a treadmill beside her.
"Logan, not here- and no, but I wasn't expecting to, not for at least another month. I swear you are worse than any woman I know. How many times do I have to tell you…we only discuss this at home! It's a good thing you're so damn good in bed cuz you got no kind of sense in that pretty head of yours."
"Sorry I was just wondering what they're up to. It's been a while."
"They are living their life, Logan…quietly… so let's try to help them out with that, huh?"
"Yeah, okay just keep me posted if you hear anything. I'd love to know how my buddy's doing."
"Your buddy is doing fine so let it go."
Bowman caught the last part of their exchange as he entered the gym. Smiling, he hopped on a bike. "So, who's your buddy, Logan?"
Until the next chapter my friends!
LH