Arena Ch. 04

Giselle begins to giggle, thinking of Charlie in Italy. "Todd would have his hands full with Charlie over there," she says. "It would be worth bringing them along just to watch all those Italian stallion's reaction to Charlie when she turns on the sex."

Rick begins to chuckle as well. "Yes it would." He drums his fingers on the table for a moment. "You know, that would be a perfect time to capture an immersion of them, if they'll do it." He hums thoughtfully. "I wonder if they'd consider it?"

"All you can do is ask. If she wants to be romanced into doing one, I can't think of a better place than the wine country of Italy," she says, pausing to think. "Charlie likes fast cars. Rent a Ferrari, a gas-powered one, no, a gas-powered convertible one... wait, I have it. Before we go, get Charlie some driving lessons. Then rent the Ferrari, let Charlie drive through the mountains to a villa."

"Sounds good. Where's Todd during all of this?"

"What? Oh... uh... waiting on her in the villa?" she asks sheepishly. She'd forgotten that Todd needs to be doing something other than just waiting on Charlie to arrive, or the male side of the immersion will be pretty dull. "Okay, maybe that isn't such a good idea after all."

"No, I think it is a fantastic idea, but let's give Todd the same driving lessons, then put Todd in a Lamborghini and let them chase each other through the mountains to the villa. You remember what I told you about arousal transference? They are going to be pumped up after the drive, the excitement of driving those cars, the competition of the chase, so they should be all over each other by the time they get in the door."

"Forget Charlie and Todd," Giselle says playfully. "Can we do that?"

Rick laughs. "I suppose we could, but we don't want to be greedy now, do we? Maybe we could rent the cars and villa for two days and do it ourselves the next day. Just for us."

She stares at him for a long time. "Do you think we could? It sounds so romantic."

"I don't see why we couldn't," he says before standing up and beginning to clear the table, thinking out loud. "Someone will need to be there before they arrive, have everything in the villa set, food in the fridge, fire in the fireplace, things like that. It would be better if they hadn't seen the place before." He pauses again, thinking while he and Giselle tidy up after dinner. "I'm not sure how to transition the capture from the cars to the house without a break. That's something I never want to do in any of our immersions, break the continuity of the immersion."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she says. "It sounds wonderful. I think that should be our next immersion, or two immersions if the wine tasting one comes out well."

"Yeah, I do too. I've been trying to think of the next project. and I haven't made much progress. But that does sound wonderfully romantic. I'll mention it to Charlie and Todd when I see them on Friday."

"Don't mention it to them until I'm around! I want to be there to see their reaction."

He laughs. "Okay, I won't mention it until you're around. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. If Arena bombs I'm not sure I want to pour that kind of money into another project. Immersion Playground might be a one-hit wonder and I'd hate to spend everything we made off The Proposal and get nothing back."

"Okay, before we buy the plane tickets we'll wait and see how Arena does. But we probably should start thinking about the next project soon so we can release more than one immersion a year," she points out.

He nods in agreement. "You're right. I guess I'm still surprised that we've come as far as we have. I keep expecting it all to come crashing down."

She turns him to face her and pulls him into her embrace, his arms going around her at the same time. "I know how you feel. But after last night, I have no doubt that Arena is going to be huge, maybe bigger than our immersion. We need to be ready for it."

"Speaking of last night," he says casually, "Since you had another run in with Hittle today, are we going to have another fight tonight?"

"I don't think so. Why, do you want one?"

"No, not really. Getting my ass kicked once a week is plenty for me, thank you very much."

She giggles. "What happened to the promise that I could come to you anytime I needed to?"

"I didn't say you couldn't kick my ass, I just said I didn't want you to kick my ass."

"Oh. A subtle but important difference. No, while he pissed me off again today, for some reason I can let it go. He's just a prick making petty threats, so I—"

"He threatened you?" Rick asks, cutting her off, his voice hard.

"Not like that. He's threatening to have the partners issue me an official reprimand. A year ago I'd have been mortified to have an official reprimand in my files. Two weeks ago it would have upset me. Now I'm not sure I even give a shit. But even a year ago I wouldn't give that sleazy bastard what he wants to avoid it. The only sexual contact he's ever going to get from me is a swift kick to the balls."

He chuckles, relieved that she hasn't been physically threatened. "Hittle doesn't know who he is messing with, and I have the bruises to prove it."

She giggles. "No he doesn't." She looks at his lip. The swelling had gone down a lot, but it still looked puffy and sore. She kisses him gently on the left side to avoid the tender-looking spot on the right. "Maybe I should take you to work tomorrow and show everyone what happens if I get angry," she teases.

"And have my ego bruised too? No thanks," he answers, his eyes playful.

"Well... okay then. You never let me have any fun," she says with a dramatic sigh.

"Maybe next time."

She pulls him tighter into their embrace. "I hope there isn't a next time," she says softly.

He says nothing, pulling her tight before leading her into the family room for some therapeutic cuddling.

They settle on the couch where she picks up her book from where he'd put it the afternoon before, and snuggles in close. While she reads, he scans the net, looking at rental property in the Tuscan wine country around the Strada Chiantigiana, working on the logistics of producing the immersion he and Giselle described. The more research he does, the more excited he becomes about making the trip. The breathtaking scenery, fantastic Italian food, and of course, Giselle's companionship, makes the trip a vacation of a lifetime. If they happened to produce another hit immersion out of the trip, so much the better, but it would be worth the trip with her for the memories alone. If they're going to try to make an immersion, they're probably going to need at least two cars, one for people and one for equipment. They'll also need a power source for—

"Rick?" she calls again, drawing his name out, breaking into his plans.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asks, pulling his attention back to reality and Giselle.

"I asked if you were ready for bed. You were in deep, I called your name twice before you came back."

"Sorry. I was working."

"Working?" she says in surprise. "What's so important that you're working at ten-thirty at night?"

He smiles, "Nothing dear. If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise."

She smiles back, "I know what it is, so there."

"Oh really? What then?"

"You're planning a trip to Italy to make an immersion, aren't you?"

He is impressed that she figured it out so effortlessly. "How did you know?"

She looks at him in exasperation. "It's not that hard, Rick. I mentioned that I wanted to go to Italy to taste wines. Then we talk about making an immersion in Italy with Charlie and Todd. Then you disappear for three hours, but you won't tell me what you were doing, only that it's work and a surprise. Now you tell me, what is the most likely scenario that fits all these facts?"

"Allow me to introduce Mrs. Sherlock Holmes," he says with a laugh. "That's very good. You make it sound so easy."

"Not all women are addle brained airheads, Rick," she says, but there is no heat in her tone.

He chuckles again, "Thank God for that. Women like that make me want to hit myself in the head with a hammer."

She laughs as she stands up. "I feel the same way about men. I've met a few that had the IQ of a doorknob. It is like trying to hold a conversation with a houseplant."

He chuckles as he rises to follow her to their bedroom. "Yeah, I've known a few of those myself, both male and female. I always wondered how they managed to live as long as they have when they're so stupid."

As they prepare for bed they prattle on about the various stupid things they have seen in their lifetimes, each story more outrageous than the one before, until they were both in tears from their laughter, Giselle hanging onto Rick for support as she laughs.

As they settle into the bed, she is still giggling occasionally as she recalls his stories. He uses the net to extinguish the lights, leaving only the dim safety lights burning. She snuggles in close to him, enjoying the feeling of his closeness as they spoon, Rick's legs tucked in behind hers as they lay on their right sides, holding her gently to him as he strokes her thigh through her pajamas. After all the laughter, she can feel her eyes almost instantly becoming heavy as sleep begins to take her. How can he get up so early every morning and still have so much energy at night?

As she relaxes in his embrace she knows that with only a tiny bit of encouragement his soft tender strokes on her thigh and gentle loving kisses on her shoulder and neck would turn into more. He always seems to have an endless well of energy he can call upon, energy he expends liberally making passionate love to her. In that time between sleep and wakefulness, when everything seems so clear, she wonders how many times a day he can make love to her before he can't get it up anymore. Smiling to herself, planning to find out some day, she slips peacefully into sleep.

She relaxes in his arms as she tumbles into the darkness of sleep. She's given him no indication that she's interested in anything more than their normal nightly cuddle, so he contents himself with kissing her neck and stroking her thigh. Sometimes, if he's feeling particularly randy, he might be a little more aggressive, knowing she'll give herself to him if he asks, but tonight he's content to hold her, enjoying her closeness and her scent of soap and baby powder. When her breathing becomes deep and rhythmic, signaling her passage into sleep, he whispers into her ear.

"I love you, Giselle."

It's a ritual he does each night when she falls asleep before he does. He doesn't know if she is aware of him saying it. She's never mentioned it, even though sometimes she will answer him with a mumbled 'I love you too.' Saying it is enough. As he lies still, Giselle peacefully sleeping in his arms, he thinks of the Italian countryside, with her at his side, as sleep slowly embraces him.