The Soprano Ch. 02

Inside, a dim orange glow lit the dozen or so tables crowded together in the tiny room. Pots and pans clanged together in the kitchen, and a teenaged waiter was bringing out large bowls and platters of steaming food to tables of old men and college students. Sebastien took her hand and led her to the only empty table, on the far left wall. She looked at the laminated menu, the glossy photographs.

"I didn't know you ate Vietnamese food," she said in surprise.

"There is a lot you do not know about me. You cannot think I only eat at expensive restaurants."

"I never thought about it. It's just always where you seem to take me."

"That is what I do when I am trying to impress a lady," he teased.

"Oh, I see. You're done impressing me, is that it?"

He looked into her eyes steadily as he replied, "Never."

At that moment the waiter appeared, but a few words from Sebastien sent him off again. Before they could start talking again he had returned, bringing two small frosted glasses of amber liquid. Claire picked up the one closest to her, sipped tentatively. Beer. She watched as Sebastien leaned back comfortably, taking a swig from his glass. After a year -- more -- of knowing him, she'd foolishly thought she knew all there was to know about him.

But then, she reflected, it's not like he knew everything about her, either. He didn't know the more embarrassing things, the unsexy things, the unladylike things. He probably would eventually, but she didn't see any reason to let him in on it now. She shook her head, clearing them of her thoughts, and noticed Sebastien was looking at her.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I have said nothing."

"Mmmkay, well, what should we talk about?" Before Sebastien could answer the waiter appeared again, waiting wordlessly for their order. Feeling flustered and indecisive, Claire waved toward Sebastien. He ordered smoothly, and the waiter dashed off toward the kitchen again. Claire blew out a little sigh. She felt...strange. Sebastien reached over and took her hand.

"Mon abeille, why are you so anxious?"

"I...anxious? I don't know. I guess because I don't know what to talk about, and I...I don't know. We should have a lot to talk about." She picked up her glass, drained it. Her head started to buzz a little and she tried to shake it off, but it didn't help. Sebastien smiled patiently and pulled his chair over toward her side of the table, until his chair bumped against hers. He slid his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly to him.

"Claire, listen to me a moment. How long did it take before we began really talking to each other over the dinner table, or anywhere else?"

"I don't know, a few months?"

"We have been dating -- really dating -- for less than a year. We have the whole world, and everything in it, to talk about. My parents have been married forty years. I assure you they have eaten plenty a meal in companionable silence, but they are still as much in love today as they were when they met. Perhaps even more. Besides," he said in a low voice, shifting aside to give the waiter room to set down a platter stacked high with small banana-leaf-wrapped packages, "you should know as well as I that we communicate plenty without using words."

He leaned in to brush his lips across her cheek and over her earlobe. She shivered, turning her face away. He was right; she knew he was right. Her parents were still married, too, and they never seemed to run out of things to say to each other. If it was meant to be -- and eeek, what was she doing thinking about the future right now anyway?!

She looked curiously at the table, where she saw Sebastien picking up one of the packages and unwrapping it. As he peeled the banana leaves away from it, she saw that it was a sticky rice cake. She loved sticky rice! Sometimes she'd get a bowl of phở and couldn't resist ordering sticky rice on the side. In fact, there was a little Vietnamese place down the street from the symphony hall, and once in a while Claire ducked in there just to order a sticky rice cake. She'd eat it on the way back to the symphony hall or, if she was in a real hurry, she'd tuck it into her pocket to keep it warm. Then she'd sit in an empty corner of the auditorium, peel back the banana leaves to release the steam, and take tiny, sticky bites of the rice cake.

At once she realized -- Sebastien must have noticed. How could it be that she paid him so much attention at the symphony hall, and yet never noticed when he was watching her?

She suddenly smiled at him, and his face lit up in return. He broke a small piece of the rice cake off and held it out to her. She leaned in and ate it out of his hand, running her tongue over his fingertips. His smile faded a little, his eyes glittering with a dark look. She knew that look.

Another glass of beer appeared in front of her, and then another. Before she knew it she was feeling lighter than air, tingling from the alcohol and the romance of feeding each other sticky rice cakes filled with spiced pork and bean paste. When at last Sebastien set down his glass and leaned in to give her a kiss, she felt the heat bloom over her body. All of a sudden, she wanted to get out of there. Like now.

Claire nudged Sebastien with her knee, and he took the hint. He laid several bills on the table and whisked her out of the restaurant and into the street. It was even quieter than it had been when they arrived, and the streams of fog were scudding overhead. Claire shivered, and Sebastien drew her close with his free arm. With his other hand, he tapped something out on his phone. He pulled her in against the building and kissed her for a long moment.

When he finally pulled back and she opened her eyes again, she saw a cab waiting at the curb. She looked questioningly at Sebastien, and he held up his phone. Clever. She slid into the cab, wondering where Sebastien was planning to take her. Then, on an impulse, she leaned up to the driver and gave him her own address. She went to sit back down and found Sebastien's lap where she had been sitting.

He held her tightly against him, and she turned to kiss him softly.

"No sex in the cab," she whispered.

"Please, mon abeille, what kind of man do you think I am?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that."

"Oh, I think I do. But perhaps not here. Any particular reason you are taking us to your flat?"

"Well...it's closer."

"Impatient?"

"Very."

-----

Claire bounced on the balls of her feet as the elevator in her building took them to her floor. The buzz was beginning to wear off from the beer she'd had, but the periodic caresses from Sebastien on her back and sides were keeping her amped up. As soon as she'd unlocked the door she was tugging him inside by the lapels of his jacket. She had turned to head off down the hallway to her bedroom when she felt his hand encircle her wrist and tug her back to him.

"Claire. As amused as I am by your enthusiasm and your attempts to take charge of things lately, I believe you may be forgetting which one of us is in control here." He stepped close to her, looking down at her seriously. She stepped back away from him, suddenly feeling both meeker and more aroused than before. Sometimes she actually forgot how much she loved it when he was like this.

"Yes, Maestro, of course. I'm sorry."

"That is a start. Perhaps you should show me how sorry you are," he said suggestively. At first she wasn't quite sure what to do. She knew what he liked, but she couldn't very well tie herself up, could she? Of course, he was a man. What do men like?

"Well," she began slowly, "if you'd like to take a seat and make yourself comfortable, I should go change out of this dress. Can I make you a drink?"

Sebastien opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. He regarded her thoughtfully, and finally said, "Brandy would be nice, if you have it."

"Yes, Maestro, of course." She went into the kitchen and poured him a drink, bringing it to the living room where he had taken a seat in one of her armchairs. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, finally heading toward her bedroom. She unzipped her dress and shimmied out of it, tossing it onto her dresser. Her lingerie drawer had expanded into an entire chest of lingerie drawers, and she knew just what she wanted tonight. She slipped off her heels and into the lemon-yellow babydoll nightgown -- a satin and lace top with layers of chiffon below the empire waist.

Claire dashed out of her bedroom and into the bathroom before Sebastien could catch a glimpse of her in the hallway. Looking in the mirror, she noticed that the makeup she wore just didn't go with her nightie. She scrubbed her face clean and thought she looked so young, almost innocent. If it wasn't for what she knew about herself...

She went back into the living room and saw Sebastien, his head tilted back slightly and his eyes closed. She frowned; she hadn't taken that long to get ready. It had been a long day, though. She sat on his lap, cuddling up to him and pressing soft kisses into his skin. He shifted in the chair, opening his eyes and looking at her -- her lace-covered breasts and her long, bare legs.

"You can look as innocent as you please, but you are not fooling me," he murmured. "Now what are you up to?"

"Nothing," she pouted. "I just want to...make you feel good." She shifted in his lap, pressing her ass directly between her legs and throwing her head backward onto his shoulder. She saw him looking down at her breasts again and she wiggled her shoulders to make them move. He reached down to squeeze them gently and she felt him starting to harden beneath her. It sent a chill through her and she pressed her ass back into him.

Claire slid onto the floor between Sebastien's legs and looked up at him as she unzipped his pants. She slid her hand in and found his cock, already so hard, so hot. It twitched and pulsed in her hand and she moved her mouth slowly down the length of it. She teased the tip of it with her tongue and felt Sebastien's fingers sliding through her hair. He tugged on it gently and she sped up, loving the feel of him between her lips.

She twisted her tongue around him, sucking firmly as he groaned softly above her. All too soon, though, he was pulling her off of him. She stood, pulling her nightgown up to show him what she wasn't wearing underneath. He tugged her over to him, grasping her hips tightly and digging his fingers into her buttocks almost painfully. She straddled his lap, sinking down onto him and closing her eyes in pleasure.

While she rode him, Sebastien's hands roamed her body, sliding over her bare skin beneath her nightgown. She leaned into him. Without warning, he gave her a firm smack on the ass, quickly followed by another...and another...and another. She whimpered, feeling the pleasure building in her so fast, faster than she thought possible. Sebastien slid one hand between them, teasing her and running his fingers over her rapidly.

"Come on, mon abeille, come for me," he whispered into her ear. "I want to feel you come."

Claire blushed, pressing her forehead down into his shoulder. She felt it building and she moved faster, feeling him slamming into her over and over. His fingers were driving her up and over, and she dug her fingernails into his upper arms, crying out as she came.

Sebastien picked her up then, tumbling them both to the floor and fucking her harder than she could have done. The sound of their sex filled the room along with Sebastien's heavy breathing in her ear. He grabbed her hips, picking them up and driving into her with even more intensity when at last he came, spilling his come into her.

Silence descended on them as their breathing slowed down. Claire wondered if she might have rug burn on her backside where her nightie had ridden up.

"We can just sleep here, right?" she asked him.

"I think not. We will go to bed. As soon as I can walk again."

"I'll be asleep before that happens," she murmured, nuzzling his shoulder.

"Then I shall just leave you here, I suppose."

"That's mean," she said, but she was smiling.