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The Streets Of Paris Tell Their Stories
Feb. 23rd, 2003 03:11 amTakes place after David and Cate's night out together...
David and Cate's late night dinner was all that he'd hoped it would be. The pretty dancer turned out to be a bright and lovely dinner companion, and he swore the food was the best he'd tasted since his arrival in Paris, a fact that no doubt was enhanced by his happy mood. The hours following the dessert and walk back to his hotel were spent indulging in the pleasures that so easily follow a night of laughter, food, wine and flirtation. Tentative touches grew more insistent, until somehow he found himself holding her in his arms, then in his bed, neither one making any effort to resist each others charms.
And then the hour grew late. Cate pulled herself from the slumber they had fallen into, and with hasty kisses and apologizing eyes, she stumbled from the bed to dress and find her way homeward. David tried to follow, but she pushed him back at the doorway, a hand warm against his chest, insistent. She would return home alone, these were her streets, she knew the way well.
David moved quietly in the dark room to the south window, not bothering to find a light along the way. Sinking down into the pillows of the window seat, he let his elbows rest on the ledge, and watched as Cate stepped onto the sidewalk. Her light feet moved her quickly up the boulevard, and she looked for all the world like a bit of sunlight out past it's bedtime purely to spite the moon. And then she was gone. He tilted his head back, let his eyes fall closed, and breathed deeply of the night air. When he opened them again, the street was quiet, empty. He stared at the cobblestones, lost in thought, for a long time.
And then, faint footsteps and low murmuring voices were heard. A couple paused directly below his window, bathed in the low light of a lamp post. Not aware of anything beyond their own little world of two, they paused to pull each other close into a long, lingering kiss.
David watched quietly, not moving a muscle, careful not to alert them to his presence. He was as lost in the moment as they were... and he wondered what it was like from their perspective. What the kiss felt like, tasted like, how his hands would feel slipping around a waist, just as the hand he watched intently was doing right then. To slide his fingers through tousled hair, slowly tightening them into a fist, clutching that hair, holding another so close, so insistently, deepening the kiss... his mind wandered, exploring all the possibilities.
And as David watched the two men, he began to wonder why it was that he wondered so much, and was so utterly fascinated...
David and Cate's late night dinner was all that he'd hoped it would be. The pretty dancer turned out to be a bright and lovely dinner companion, and he swore the food was the best he'd tasted since his arrival in Paris, a fact that no doubt was enhanced by his happy mood. The hours following the dessert and walk back to his hotel were spent indulging in the pleasures that so easily follow a night of laughter, food, wine and flirtation. Tentative touches grew more insistent, until somehow he found himself holding her in his arms, then in his bed, neither one making any effort to resist each others charms.
And then the hour grew late. Cate pulled herself from the slumber they had fallen into, and with hasty kisses and apologizing eyes, she stumbled from the bed to dress and find her way homeward. David tried to follow, but she pushed him back at the doorway, a hand warm against his chest, insistent. She would return home alone, these were her streets, she knew the way well.
David moved quietly in the dark room to the south window, not bothering to find a light along the way. Sinking down into the pillows of the window seat, he let his elbows rest on the ledge, and watched as Cate stepped onto the sidewalk. Her light feet moved her quickly up the boulevard, and she looked for all the world like a bit of sunlight out past it's bedtime purely to spite the moon. And then she was gone. He tilted his head back, let his eyes fall closed, and breathed deeply of the night air. When he opened them again, the street was quiet, empty. He stared at the cobblestones, lost in thought, for a long time.
And then, faint footsteps and low murmuring voices were heard. A couple paused directly below his window, bathed in the low light of a lamp post. Not aware of anything beyond their own little world of two, they paused to pull each other close into a long, lingering kiss.
David watched quietly, not moving a muscle, careful not to alert them to his presence. He was as lost in the moment as they were... and he wondered what it was like from their perspective. What the kiss felt like, tasted like, how his hands would feel slipping around a waist, just as the hand he watched intently was doing right then. To slide his fingers through tousled hair, slowly tightening them into a fist, clutching that hair, holding another so close, so insistently, deepening the kiss... his mind wandered, exploring all the possibilities.
And as David watched the two men, he began to wonder why it was that he wondered so much, and was so utterly fascinated...
