SUMMARY: David finds Charisma by the light of the moon.
POSTED: 25 Nov 2006
CATEGORY: REAL PERSON FANFICTION
WARNINGS: This is a work of fiction. I have no knowledge of the personal lives of David or Charisma and make no claim that any of what I write is true. Fantasy what-ifs are for fun and entertainment, not to be taken as truth.
FICPIC CREDIT: N/A
To Damnskippy for her amazing artwork, one of which was the inspiration for this, and to Lysa for creating the RPF section so it had a home.
She’s magic in the moonlight, bits of stars tangling in her dress, skin, and hair as she kicks her legs, showering herself with water.
Her hair is glitters with the sparkling drops, skin shining with silver light and the glow of health. She bends her head and the fine, thick waves fall forward, hiding parts of her face from his gaze.
He sits on the edge of the fountain and watches her, the nymph who’s enthralled him.
The noise and lights of the party are far away and he thinks it’s perfect out here, next to the topiary, with the gardens giving off sweet smells of roses and orchids.
She belongs out here, he thinks, perfectly natural, wonderfully original.
It’s not until she looks up that he realizes he’s said her name out loud.
Her eyes widen in the tangle of her hair and she smiles at him, teeth white against the blue darkness.
“David,” she greets him, coy and shy and knowing all at once. It’s not as though he’s bothered to hide the desire he feels for her. “Nice suit.”
He looks down at the plaid design and winces.
“My stylist,” he concedes with a shrug. She laughs softly and wades over to him, holding the bottom of her skirt up so that it doesn’t drag in the water. The halter is cut deep enough to showcase her breasts, and he watches as they sway gently with her careful steps.
“Why aren’t you inside making connections?” She asks softly, water gleaming like diamonds across her bare skin.
“Made them. Saw you come out here.”
He explains absently, eyes steady on her. She nods once and bites her lip.
“What about…” she trails off, afraid to finish her question.
He knows though.
“Ingrid isn’t with me.”
“We’re getting divorced,” he finishes.
She looks up, surprised, eyes wide in her face.
“When did this happen?” She asks, her voice betraying nothing. But he swears he sees her pulse beating faster.
Or maybe that’s just his wishful thinking.
“It’s been happening, Chari. She and I…we’re just going in different directions.”
And he’s in love with another woman. That didn’t help either. But he respected Ingrid too much to keep lying to her, and in the end, it had been a relief to finally admit it.
He’s an asshole for falling in love with another woman while he was married, but at least he can say he’s an honest one.
“I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes and winces. “Shit. No. I’m not.” She looks up at him again, eyes bright in the moonlight. “I’m not sorry. I want to be, but I’m not.”
She leans forward, water lapping gently along her legs, and touches her mouth to his. He leans into the kiss eagerly, closing his eyes, and she moans a little, the tip of her tongue brushing the seam of his mouth.
“I’m not sorry at all,” she whispers against his skin and he shivers from the sensation.
She pulls away and he nearly falls into the fountain trying to maintain the contact with her. Giggling, she turns and walks half the distance, arms reaching up behind her.
Turning back slowly around, she undoes the straps of her halter top and lets them drop down. Gravity does the rest, pulling the top of her velvet gown down around her waist.
His chest quakes with sudden emotion, and he struggles to breathe, desire consuming him like a fire.
She’s perfect. She’s Diana and Aphrodite and every other mythic woman he remembers reading about in college. Her breasts are more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen before, her waist small and tapering and her skin glowing by the light of the moon.
“Come here a second David,” she whispers, the promise in her voice like a benediction for him.
He swivels and plunges his five hundred dollars shoes into the water of the fountain, straightening up to his full height, feeling a thrill at doing this under the noses of the rich and famous.
His pants are immediately soaked to the knees and he cares even less about them than the shoes. Small price to pay for being allowed into the Garden of Eden.
Chari is holding out her slim-fingered hand to him and he reaches out, takes it in his own and pulls her to him, through the water, and embraces her with both arms and all his heart.
Laughing, she looks up into his face, her breasts crushed against his chest. He cups the back of her head with one hand and leans down to kiss her. She meets him with her own desire, hot and soft and all consuming.
He gets lost in the touch and smell and taste of her, body hard against hers, and straightens. Lifting her up, unwilling to break the contact, he turns around and plunges them both under the spray of the fountain water.
She breaks the kiss to gasp as the cold water cascades down her head, wetting her in her dress.
“David,” she gasps against his mouth. “Why did you do that?”
He looks down into her face and falls deeper into love.
“I love the way you say my name,” he replies before kissing her again, sliding his hand down her neck to her bared back, the pearls of her spine under his fingertips.
He’s going to ask her to marry him.
In the morning.