by Olivia Jake
CHAPTER 10
Sam got up before Laurent and quietly made her way downstairs to make a pot of coffee and some breakfast. The last thing she wanted to do was talk, but she knew that they had to. They couldn’t resolve issues the way they did the previous night. And, Sam couldn’t handle scotch, nothing to discuss there though.
What she really needed to do was leave soon to get home to feed her boys, but she knew that if Laurent woke and found her gone… well, she wasn’t sure what Laurent she would find, but she just knew that wasn’t an option. Again she was reminded of how different her life was now, with him. Nothing used to get between her and her dogs, and now she let a man do just that. She felt guilty. She knew that most people would never understand putting animals before a lover, and prior to Laurent coming into her life, she never had to make the choice. But she couldn’t argue with the fact that, while she had always considered herself happy, she had never felt as full, as complete, as she did with him in her world. She was smart enough to know that it couldn’t all be sunshine and roses, but there had to be a better way for them to discuss their differences than what they did last night.
When Laurent came down, he found Sam with coffee, the paper and some toast with jam. She was in a robe he had given her, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest. After everything, what she felt when she saw him was love. Ugh. She knew she had it bad. He smiled warmly at her, came over and planted a kiss on her head, then knelt down beside her, lifting his eyes to hers and said, “Do you have any idea how adorable you are, Cheri? Or how happy it makes me to see you here when I wake up?”
“Do you have any idea how many sarcastic responses I have to that?” she grinned.
“You’re a very creative woman, Samantha. I’m sure there’s a whole range.” He took a sip of his coffee, “And creative is good, but fighting like a girl…” he just shook his head, “I am enrolling you in self defense classes.” Sam laughed, but she realized he was dead serious.
“I’m not kidding, Samantha. You need to be able to fight better than that pathetic attempt last night.” Well this sure wasn’t going where she thought it would.
“Huh? I had two scotches on an empty stomach and I was play-fighting with you. I wasn’t ever really worried that you’d hurt me or that I’d really need to defend myself.”
“It doesn’t matter how much you had to drink. Do you think, Cheri, that a man is only going to attack you when you’re sober?”
“Are we seriously discussing self-defense and not the reason why we were fighting?” God this man ran her emotions around the board.
“Yes, we really are. You’re strong for a woman, Samantha. But you need to know how to fight back. We live in Los Angeles.”
Sam was back to being pissed off. Her head still hurt. She didn’t sleep well. And she didn’t need Laurent or any man telling her what she needed, especially after last night. “I know where the fuck we live, Laurent. I have two pit bulls for god’s sake. They’d rip any man who tried to harm me limb from limb.” She pushed her chair back and said, “and speaking of them, I need to get home to feed them.”
She took a deep breath to calm herself, and then in a more measured voice said, “I waited here this morning so that we could talk. We need to be able to discuss things when you get upset or when something happens that’s, uh, unpleasant. I love you, Laurent, but I’m afraid this roller coaster that we’re on is going to end up making me crazy. I know neither of us is good at this, but we’ve got to get better.”
He watched her as she walked over to him to place a kiss on the top of his head and said, “I’ll call you later so we can talk… and so you can tell me when my personal Krav Magra trainer will be arriving at my house.” She knew better than to leave on a bad note, so she tried to add a little levity. But she knew she had to leave. Laurent watched her walk out, and a few minutes later he heard the front door close.
It really was exhausting Samantha. She worried that a fire that burned so bright would eventually burn out. She had never felt so intensely, good or bad, for another person. Not that there was much bad at all, not after the initial phases.
She felt like she was losing a part of herself to him. And it wasn’t what they did in the bedroom, she was surprisingly comfortable giving up control there. Actually, it was a relief and it was so damn good that she was happy to be whomever he wanted or needed her to be sexually. She had never felt so much pleasure as she did with him. So it wasn’t the dominance during sex. No, that wasn’t an issue at all. And, for the most part, everything else was amazing. He was smart and charming and caring and interesting and interested in her and sexy and, and, and, the list went on. But when he was bad, it wasn’t that he was awful. What scared Sam were the accommodations she was making for his moods. She knew she couldn’t control him. He was going to be who he was. But she was changing. That’s what worried her. Was this just part of being in a relationship? Or more specifically, part of what two control freaks had to deal with when in a relationship together? Sam had no one to ask. Correction. The one person she could discuss this with was the problem.
As Sam pondered this, her phone buzzed.
Dinner?
Yes, please. No scotch.
Done. I’ll pick you up at 7.
He picked her up in his new Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet. It was a present he bought himself after the launch. Sam looked online to see what the base price was out of curiosity. Naturally, it was the top of the line, and many houses across the country sold for far less.
Sam had previously always hated Porshe drivers because she found they were often small men with, she imagined, small penises who had chips on their shoulders and were incredibly rude drivers. But after taking a few spins in this, she could see the allure of the car. Sam had always loved driving fast, and when she was younger, she had the speeding tickets to prove it. She actually once cried her way out of a ticket. She wasn’t proud, but she was young and broke at the time, and the tears were real…
In yet another way that Sam wasn’t like many women, her first true love was a car. Specifically, a used red Alfa Romeo Spider. Talk about a love-hate relationship. She had so much fun in that car. And being blonde and 21 in it didn’t hurt either. But lord, the amount of time and hard-earned waitressing tips spent on that car in the shop. She chuckled thinking back to it wondering if that’s what her relationship with Laurent was. Exhilarating, fun and great when it worked. But the repairs started adding up. Eventually, she had to get rid of her Alfa, and had never since felt the same about a piece of machinery… which was probably due to maturity more than anything else. But still, the parallels were there.
As punishment to herself, since she had been acting like such a girl, in her mind at least, she decided that she would dress like one, for once. Sam rarely wore dresses. But it was Saturday night and she was going out with her hot boyfriend and the night before had been so colossally weird, so she pulled her only LBD out of the closet, put on a garter belt and sheer black stockings, and a very sheer black bra that revealed everything it held. She wore the pumps Laurent had given her a while back. No underwear. And a little more makeup than usual. Most notably, red lipstick. Sam being Sam was having a hard time with this relationship. Perhaps Sam being Samantha could help work things out. She also put on the short black trench coat that he bought her to cover up the surprise.
She had heard him pull up, so before he could come up to the door, she was on her way out. He looked at her as she came strutting up to the car and he actually whistled. Sam grinned and blushed. He walked around to the passenger side taking her in as much as he could in the dark, looking her up and down, and said with appreciation, “Cheri, I don’t know what has gotten into you, mais j’adore.” As he kissed her on both cheeks, careful not to ruin her red lips. Laurent helped her into the low car, holding her hand as she got situated, then took one more appreciative look before he closed the door.
“Samantha Davis? C’est toi?” he asked when he got in. He couldn’t help but s
mile as he grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips.
“Mais bien sur, c’est moi!” she flirted back. It was nice to be light and easy for a change. It was only 24 hours before that he was such a different person.
He chuckled and then said, “You know, Cheri, among the many things I love about you is your fluency in French, because you are so damn sexy when you speak it, and your ability to, uh, how shall I say, roll with the punches?”
“Interesting choice of words.” She smiled at him, “Et, tu sais que j’adore parler francais.”
“I suppose I’m lucky I found you then. How many perfect, sexy, smart, interesting women in LA speak French?”
“Oh, Laurent, is that what a dress and heels do to you? Makes you flirt with me like we’re on a first date?”
“Is that so bad, Cheri?” he asked and lifted her hand again to his lips.
“No, Laurent. It’s nice. Very nice.”
“Good. And if I didn’t say so before, you are beautiful.”
“Merci, Laurent.” Sam couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. And it was this, this exact thing that scared the crap out of her. He had said a while back that she wanted to please. She was realizing that he was right. She did want to please him. She didn’t want to get too caught up in the feminist implications of that, but was it so wrong to want to please the man you’re in love with? Could a woman do that without losing herself? Intellectually, Sam felt like she was balancing the two, but she also felt like she was on a tight rope and one strong wind one way or the other might just push her over.
They drove the rest of the way in blissful silence, Laurent’s hand never leaving hold of Sam’s.
When they got to the small Italian restaurant, Laurent gave the valet guys what she imagined was a large bill to make sure they took care of his car, but he also glared at the one who helped Sam out, holding her hand to do so. Sam smiled and shook her head at Laurent.
They were greeted by the owner, Georgio, who embraced Laurent, hugging him and then kissing each other on both cheeks before they fell into rapid Italian. Sam had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes as she thought, of course he speaks perfect Italian too. But truthfully, she loved seeing European men together. They weren’t afraid to show their emotion. They hugged and kissed without any fear that someone would think they were anything less than a man. Again, Sam had to stifle a chuckle when she thought, there weren’t too many men more straight than her Laurent. So seeing him kiss another man on his cheeks was charming. Damn him.
Laurent introduced Georgio to Sam, “Samantha, bella.” He said as he kissed the back of her hand. Not that it mattered, but Sam was glad she wore a dress. As much as she didn’t like being on Laurent’s arm when it came to movie premieres and events, she truly enjoyed it on nights like this. She actually liked that he was proud to show her off.
“Grazie.” Was all Sam could say. She didn’t know much Italian.
The place was perfection. It was intimate and charming, the smells permeating the restaurant made Sam’s mouth water and stomach rumble. She was looking forward to a nice long dinner. More than that, she was looking forward to a nice, normal, romantic date. Of the many things Laurent was, he was a wonderful date and dinner companion. The conversation always flowed, never any awkward silences, and he was always a gentleman. True, sometimes a naughty gentleman, but in so far as she could relax and not need to steer the evening, she came to genuinely enjoy these evenings.
Georgio led them to a table in the back. Before they sat, Laurent helped Sam out of her coat, and once again smiled at her with appreciation. Sam smiled and said, “Laurent, this is perfect.”
“As you are, Cheri.” Sam actually rolled her eyes and laughed because all she could think about was the night before. But she didn’t want to go there just yet.
“So you were talking wine with him? Is that how you know him?” As they were walking to the table, Sam heard enough to surmise this.
“You speak Italian too?” Laurent was genuinely surprised.
She shook her head and smiled, “No, but between Spanish and French, it’s easy enough to pick up words to get the gist.”
Laurent nodded, “We were talking wine, but I was just ordering a bottle. No, I know Georgio from playing soccer here when I first moved to the states. A bunch of mostly European guys get together every Sunday at the high school and play. I used to be a regular, but work and uh, life got in the way.” Sam nodded, understanding that, wondering if she was part of the ‘life’ that got in the way.
“So, Cheri, do not take this the wrong way, but why the dress?” Sam’s change in wardrobe was clearly not lost on him.
“You’re the only one who gets to switch personalities?” Sam said playfully, but it landed harder than she intended.
“I’m sorry, Samantha, I know that it seems I’m, hmm, unpredictable?” it was almost a question, like he was waiting for her to validate it.
“That’s a safe word for it. But let’s not go there just yet, Laurent,” she didn’t finish her sentence when the waiter came with a bottle of Barolo. Laurent tasted and nodded his head, then the waiter poured Sam’s,
“Grazie.”
“Prego, Signoria” the waiter said as his eyes lingered on Sam’s cleavage. He was Italian, after all.
And in a moment, Laurent was jealous. Sam waited till the waiter left but she had to tease him, “That, right there! Oh mon dieu, Laurent, you just switched from charming and adorable to jealous in an instant!”
He laughed shaking his head and said, “You know, Samantha, it doesn’t help my cause that you’re so damn perceptive.” Realizing Sam was right, getting jealous at a waiter who was just being a man. “And, I’m not used to anyone pointing out my less than positive qualities.”
“It’s not one of my many qualities that you love?” she batted her eyes.
“I’ll consider adding it to the list, but so far, it’s not in the top 10. It might not even make it to the top 20.” And, proving her point, flirty Frenchman was back. Merde.
It wasn’t until the glass of grappa, after their meal, that they finally started to talk. Laurent took Sam’s hands, “So, Samantha, about yesterday, last night,” but before he could continue, she broke in,
“Wait, before we go down that road, I just want to say that this evening so far has been perfect. All of it. So let’s remember that,” she leaned in and motioned for him to lean closer, “as well as the fact that I’m not wearing any panties. Let’s remember all of that when the conversation turns heavy.” She winked, scooted her chair back and excused herself to the restroom. When she got there, she looked in the mirror and thought, what the hell are you doing? He was about to discuss what on earth happened yesterday. But she already knew what happened. They didn’t need to discuss it. She talked about another client in his presence. She pulled away from their kiss, in his mind, to go work on the other client’s account. He wanted to let her know that wasn’t acceptable. What was there really to discuss? Great, she had just argued both sides, effectively acquitting him.
She returned to the table to find him very relaxed, leaning back with his grappa glass dangling from his hands. He watched her the entire way from the bathroom to their table, never once taking his eyes off her. She knew she was blushing just from that. When she sat down, he leaned in and asked, “No panties, Cheri?” She bit her bottom lip, looked down briefly and then back at him, knowing she was still flushed and just shook her head no.
“I see.” He said as he leaned back again, taking a slow sip of his grappa. “And why is that, Samantha?” his voice turned to that low, sexy growl. All Sam could do was shrug. “You don’t know, Cheri? Come now, try. Try to tell me.” Sam took a sip of her grappa, looked around and then cleared her throat,
“I, I wanted to feel sexy.” Her voice was just above a whisper, so they both leaned closer “I wanted to be sexy. For you.” That made him smile.
“And I am the only chameleon in this relationship?” he arched one eyebrow. Sam couldn�
��t help but laugh.
“Let’s not ruin a lovely evening talking about last night, ok, Laurent?”
He reached across the table to take hold of her hands, nodded and agreed, “Ok, Cheri.”
Once in the car, Laurent drove in the opposite direction of his house and parked in front of a non-descript block of stores. There was one door that had a burly man in a black suit standing outside. Laurent shook his hand, and Sam was pretty sure he slipped him some money as he told the doorman his name. The linebacker nodded, said Laurent’s name into his shoulder and then opened the door for them. Sam stifled her laugh as it seemed the Laurent Román name literally opened doors.
Inside it took a moment for their eyes to adjust, it was so dark. It was an intimate lounge, and being that it was a Saturday night, it was pretty full. Most of the couches and tables were taken, so Laurent led them, with his hand on Sam’s back, to the bar. They squeezed in, but it was standing room only. Sam was pressed up against the bar and Laurent was directly behind her. He had his hands on her hips and pulled her tight to him so that she could feel his erection pressing against her ass.
“No panties, Cheri?” he whispered rhetorically into her ear as his hands groped her backside and he subtly rubbed himself against her.
“No panties, Laurent.” She whispered breathlessly back to him. She wasn’t sure if the guy to her right heard her, but that was part of the thrill.
“It would be a shame not to take advantage of that, non? He growled and then kissed the side of her neck.
Sam felt shivers go through her body. “Take advantage of it?” she asked meekly.
“Mais, oui. Such easy access.” She could hear the smile in his voice, all the while he was rubbing her, pressing against her.
“But, Laurent, we’re in public.” She said, apparently a bit too loud because the guy next to them definitely heard that and looked appreciatively at where Laurent’s hands were on Sam. Laurent paid him no mind.
