Sweet Distractions (2):
It was early in the evening
and most Parisians – at least the wealthy – prepared themselves for rendezvous
at various opera houses, theaters or high class establishments for a night of
decadence and pleasure. Of course, the city was still relatively high from the
mysterious Russian princess who had graced them with her presence at the ball two
weeks ago. The media had had a frenzy covering the story and it seemed like no
news network or newspaper was free from the dazzling picture of the blond
female. Everyone wanted to know who she was, where she slept, how she ate, her
favorite nightspots, but most importantly, her heritage and lineage. Parisians
are always particular about such things.
Unfortunately for the trio responsible
for this debacle – in this case Albert de Morcerf who had been the ringleader –
had been completely unprepared for the onslaught of invitations and telephone
calls from other high-ranking members of society who all sought to have the
Princess Francine as a guest to their fantastic or ostentatious mansions or
chateaus. But we shall leave young Albert and his helper, Eugenie Danglars, as
they try to make sense of the piles of letters, bouquets of flowers and
marriage offers to turn our attention to the aforementioned princess.
Franz d’Epinay was dressed – thankfully-
in his evening wear which consisted of a casual silk print dress shirt and dark
pants that fit his lean body perfectly. As he stepped out of the taxi, making
sure he tipped the driver generously, he ran fingers through his blond hair and
eyed the building before him warily. He was definitely not looking forward to
spending an evening with a group of older men all talking about matters
regarding politics, money and power. But Beauchamp had invited him and he
couldn’t say no – besides, a part of him was still upset at his decision to
dress up in a ball gown for his best friend and perhaps he felt that coming out
tonight would help to ease his mind.
“Baron d’Epinay,” he announced
quietly as he allowed the door man to usher him into the exclusive building. Although
it had been dark outside, it was even gloomier once they stepped into the
lobby. The thick red carpet beneath him silenced his footsteps as the rich
smell of expensive cigars and perfume assailed his senses. Soft, soothing music
from a piano was being played in the lounge and as Franz was led deeper into
the large room, he allowed himself to steal quick glances at the rather large
portraits of the founding fathers and current members of the club. He swallowed
tightly as he saw the image of his father. General Flavien de Quesnel looked resplendent
and regal in his portrait and although Franz would have loved to spend another
minute staring at it, he was quickly hailed by his friend, the journalist.
“Franz! Welcome,” Beauchamp
greeted with a warm smile. As expected, his camera was hung around his neck
always at the ready to take a picture for the latest scoop or story for his
paper. “I was beginning to think you were going to chicken out on me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Franz
replied with a matching smile as he accepted the firm handshake. He blinked as
he noticed the undeniable shock of orange hair and then found himself flushing
at the memory of Lucien Debray’s whispered but candid words in his ear on the
night of the dance. That perverted creep! “What’s he doing here?”
If Beauchamp noticed the sharpness
of the question, he made no sign of it; instead, he gave the blond a passing
flute of wine and a cigar. “Lucien? He’s a member, didn’t I tell you?”
“No…but then again, I
shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Lucien does know how to get into all the
secret clubs in
“That he does…oh, let’s go, I
think the meeting is about to start.”
They waved lightly at the private
secretary who had spotted them as they made their way into the rather cozy
banquet hall. There must have been about fifty men, all in their late forties
or older, talking amongst themselves in hushed or confidential whispers. Franz,
being the only heir to the great General, was recognized by a few of his
father’s friends and soon found himself engaged in conversation with them. This
was of course, a welcome reprieve and distraction from any thoughts or concerns
about being recognized by anyone.
*
The meeting was over much
quicker than they had expected and now the three young men found themselves
sitting in the coffee room, feeling rather lazy after such a sumptuous dinner
featuring a combination of French and Oriental cuisine. Franz idly watched the
tendrils of smoke from his cigar, barely listening to the conversation between
his two friends. He could feel himself getting sleepy and wondered briefly if
the rumors about the club dealing with illegal drugs were actually true – not
that he would be surprised by that. However, it still didn’t stop him from
feeling incredibly languid and lethargic. He was sure that at some point, he had
hallucinations of girls dressed in the skimpiest of outfits suddenly appearing
from nowhere to entertain him.
They were pretty…but a part
of him felt that he had even been prettier as the princess. Dear gods, what a
silly thought. The smoke must really be getting to his head.
And Albert had liked it very much, he thought again, feeling a smile come to his lips as
the memory of dancing with his best friend on the portico came to mind. He
could still feel Albert’s strong body against his – could still inhale that
heady combination of Albert’s vanilla scented shampoo and the exotic smell of
his perfume. He could still feel Albert’s arm around his waist…his hand upon
his hip and at one point; the cheeky bastard had even dared to caress Franz’s
rear! But oh to feel Albert’s heartbeat against his…to feel those lips whisper
softly into his hair, the warm breath along the delicate skin of his neck and…
“Keep drooling like that and
you’ll scare away the women, Franz,” Lucien teased as he stared at his friend’s
dazed countenance. “What’s with you? You look like you’re in love.”
“Wha…what?” Franz sat upright
– the accusation doing more to clear his befuddled mind than any douse of cold
water could have done. “What on earth do you mean?”
“Aah, no need to hide it, my
dear Franz,” the Debray continued mercilessly. He moved closer to the blond and
nudged him with a wink. “So who’s the lucky girl?”
“Girl…?”
“Or dare I say woman! We all
know you go for the older ones, you lucky bastard you!”
Franz suffered the ruffling
of his hair, trying desperately to stop his cheeks from becoming too red. “I am
not in love with anyone…”
But Lucien was not listening.
“As for me,” the man continued with a dramatic sigh. “I am unlucky in love, my
friend.”
“How so?” Beauchamp asked in
amusement.
“How so indeed, why I do
believe a young princess has stolen my heart and has taken it to
Franz, who had reached for
his cup of coffee, choked into it and had to pound his chest repeatedly for a
few seconds. Unfortunately, it seemed like Lucien wasn’t quite done lamenting
his woes to the world.
“Her hair like flaxen locks
of gold, her eyes! So beautiful in the moonlight! Her skin…oh, to touch her…her
lips…if I could steal just one kiss from those dainty pink lips, I would die a
happy man.”
Franz tried to control his
shudder, while finding interest in the group of men playing poker a few tables
away. Heavens, he had thought Lucien was joking on that night, but it really
seemed like his friend had actually…well…fallen for Franz himself! So agitated
was he in this new found development that he failed to notice the sharp look
given to him by the ever observant Beauchamp.
“Come now, Lucien,” the
journalist said with a laugh. “I’m sure the Princess was left with a favorable
opinion of you. Who can resist your…charm and wit?”
“Do you really think so, Beauchamp?
You are not giving me false hope now, are you? I have tried to contact Albert
many times, but he either glares at me or ignores me and I swear at one time he
almost challenged me to a duel when I vowed to hunt the princess down and make
her mine! What a hot-headed young man he is. He acts like a jealous husband!”
Franz’s cheeks flared with
color and he squirmed in his seat, wondering if he was ever going to get out of
this situation.
“You should have a talk with
your friend, Franz,” Lucien chided with a snort. “I do have a good mind to take
up his challenge…”
“You won’t!” Franz cried out
in surprise as he spun around quickly.
Beauchamp and Debray eyed his
flushed countenance with slight concern. The young blond looked…feverish for
some reason.
“Is…everything okay, Franz?
You do know that I was only kidding…”
“You look pale, Franz…”
“I think I should be going
now,” came the hurried reply as Franz rose to his feet quickly. “I think I do
need to get some rest. It has been a rather long day.”
“Of…of course,” Lucien agreed
with a warm smile. “I will escort you home…”
“No!” He cleared his throat
and appeased their surprised looks by lowering his tone. “No, you don’t have to
do that. I will make it home on my own.”
He barely gave his friends a
chance to say their proper goodbyes before making his way out of the club at a
brisk pace. Once outside, he groaned and held his pounding head between his
hands. Albert had never told him about any of that. Of course he knew about the
mails and invitations he had been receiving but his supposed good friend had
never once mentioned Lucien’s adamant advances or the fact that things had
gotten this far between them.
To think that two men would
duel over him!
He lowered his hands and bit
his lower lip, a sudden thought occurring to him. If he didn’t know any better,
he was sure that Albert had begun to act a bit different towards him. Oh, the changes weren’t that drastic, but
Franz had noticed that Albert didn’t stay in his presence for too long and had
not come to their hideout since the ball itself. Of course it wasn’t unusual
for Albert to be away for such a long time, but there had always been a reasonable
explanation for his absence. So what was Albert’s excuse now?
Despite the current
situation, however, Franz knew for a fact that something had happened between them that night and to his growing
confusion, he had no idea of what to do now.
How could he ask Albert about
his feelings when he himself was still afraid to admit his?
He groaned again in misery,
ignoring the taxi that had pulled up to the curb as he began to walk along the
sidewalk with hands buried deep within his pockets. He knew he had urges of the
sexual kind – after all being around older women who wished to sleep with him
on more than one occasion had accustomed him to the workings of the opposite
sex. He had bragged to Albert about his experiences with women before. He could
talk about the various places on her body that could make her feel good enough
to scream with utter pleasure. He felt comfortable in knowing that he could do
those sorts of things to a female and was proud of that. So how then was one to
explain these same urges for a member of his sex and not just any male…but for
a friend he has known for almost ten years! It was nothing short of
humiliating!
Of course getting dressed in
a ball gown was on a whole other level of humiliation.
So why had he done it? He had
assumed it was only to make Albert happy but a part of Franz knew that he had
done it for much more personal reasons. If he hadn’t become Francine, he would
never have danced with Albert like that. If he hadn’t been Francine, he would
have never felt Albert’s jealousy or possessiveness. Did this mean that even Albert
had fallen in love with the persona he had helped create? It was more than
likely and that knowledge only did more to send Franz into a melancholy mood.
He had hoped that maybe Albert would have gotten an inkling of his real
feelings for him – to perhaps show that these nervous flutter in his stomach at
the sight of his best friend weren’t just a trick of nature or that the rapid
beating of his heart whenever Albert was near was no longer a thing to be
denied.
Maybe…maybe I am in love with him. How bloody ironic.
____
Albert de Morcerf sighed
softly to himself as he passed beneath yet another electronic screen featuring
a discussion about the princess of
He growled as he remembered
Lucien’s phone call earlier in the day, his hand tightening upon the strap of
the bag he carried. That perverted secretary just didn’t know when to give it
up, did he? He had thought that Lucien was interested in older women. Why in
the world would he want to be with Francine?!
Are you sure you don’t know why, Albert? A voice teased within him, causing his cheeks to
darken with color.
He was almost ashamed to
admit that he did indeed have a reason for his ‘strange’ behavior. Why just
remembering the way Franz had looked and felt in his arms was enough to have
Albert’s stomach doing a series of nervous flip flops. They had danced on that
portico, hardly stopping even when the music had faded away. They hadn’t cared
much – just content to remain in each other’s embrace as they moved slowly to
an unheard tune.
He could distinctly remember
wishing that Franz could really be a girl so he could…
“Ah! What am I thinking?!” He
ignored the few curious looks he received as he wailed in disbelief. He
quickened his steps, flushing darkly at his wandering thoughts. But no matter
how many times he tried to stop himself from imagining it, he could stop the
images from coming to his mind! He would lean closer and then…and then he would
steal a little kiss. That’s all. There was no harm in it and if he was lucky,
Franz would laugh it off and they would both consider it just a joke.
Just a joke,
he thought with a heavy heart as he began to walk up the stairs. So why am I not laughing?
__
Franz stopped and blinked at
the building before him, wondering how he had managed to walk all the way to
the hideout instead of his home. He glanced at his watch and winced. There was
no point going that way now. He might as well sleep here for the night. He
walked up the stairs with slow and steady steps, his mind already beginning to
shut down for the day as he dreamt of his futon and warm blanket. How he wished
Albert would stop by…at least for a few minutes…
“Huh?”
Bewildered brown eyes met
surprised blue ones and they stared at each other almost comically for a long
minute. As if on cue, they both cried out at the same time,
“What are you doing here?!”
Franz was the first to
recover as he walked up the last stair to stare at his kneeling friend. It
looked like Albert had been packing up a few things. “Shouldn’t I be asking you
that? You haven’t been here in almost two weeks and all of a sudden you come
here to…is that my shirt?”
He made a move to grab it out
of his thieving friend’s hand, but Albert snatched it away just as quickly.
“For your information, I was just dropping off your fan mail.” He pointed
towards the desk, while stuffing the shirt into a bag. “I can’t get them to
stop writing you.”
“You mean Francine,” Franz
muttered with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His look was
almost accusing and Albert tightened his jaw before turning away with a slight
huff. He could feel the butterflies within his stomach again and he cursed
softly.
“What difference does it make
now? You are obviously popular…”
“So why do you sound so
angry?”
“Angry? Me, angry? Why should
I be angry?” Albert replied, his voice sounding much louder than he would have
wanted, hardly aware of the dark pink stain on his cheeks. “I don’t care if you
have a fan club…!”
“Then you wouldn’t care if I
dressed up again as Francine and go court all the many men who want me…or maybe
I should take up Lucien’s offer.”
Albert’s eyes flashed with
something akin to pain for a moment but he could only open and shut his mouth
for a few seconds as he met the daring look in the blond’s eyes. Finally, he
took a deep breath and replied tightly. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Franz
replied with a smirk. “Do you know where I was tonight?”
“The Club…”
“Yes, The Club and do you
know who was there?”
Albert’s jaw worked for a
minute and his hands tightened on the strap of the bag. “Beauchamp…and…and…”
Franz nodded at the unspoken
name, his smirk widening as he realized he was finally getting under his
friend’s skin. A part of him warned him to stop with the deliberate goading,
but yet, he wanted to know just how much Albert felt for him…not Francine, but
for him.
“Lucien,” he said out loud.
He walked up to the desk and lifted the bouquet of roses, inhaling it with a
small smile. He noticed it was from some other Baron. “He was quite adamant and
fervent about his feelings for me, Albert. Goodness, it was taking all of my
strength not to confess that I was Francine! He really must be in love with
me.”
He stole a glance over his
shoulder wondering about the silence that greeted his statement. He wasn’t sure
of what he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the obvious look of
barely concealed anger on Albert’s visage.
Maybe he was taking this a
bit too far.
“I’ll duel him,” Albert
finally muttered tightly. “I swear I’ll fight with him if he dares lay a hand
on you.”
Franz could feel his heartbeat
quickening again and was grateful that the flowers were hiding his flushed
cheeks from view.
“And why should you care?
After all, you are only fighting for the princess and not…”
“I don’t care!” Albert cried
out as he took two long strides towards his friend and placed his hands upon
Franz’s shoulders to force their gazes to meet. Neither was aware of how
shallow their breathing had become but they were quite aware of how close they
were and how utterly fascinating their mouths had suddenly become.
“You…you don’t?” Franz
managed to squeak out breathlessly while staring as if hypnotized at Albert’s full
lips. “But you will be fighting for Francine…won’t you?”
“No, you dolt,” Albert
replied thickly as he closed the distance between them by resting his heated
forehead against Franz’s. The hands on Franz’s shoulders seemed to tremble a
little and they soon clutched the soft cloth tightly as if afraid to let go.
“Do…do you know what you are
doing?” Franz whispered, almost afraid to breathe as he felt Albert’s warm
breath upon his nose, cheeks and mouth. “Albert…I’m…I’m not…”
“I know,” came the words which
almost sounded like a groan. “I know you aren’t a girl, Franz, why do you think
I’m still going to do this anyway?”
“Al…Albert…have you even
kiss…?” But any words he might have said were soon lost in the soft pressure of
his friend’s lips against his. Franz’s eyes widened in disbelief, his entire
being trembling at the contact he had only imagined in his wildest dreams. His
heart pounded so painfully within his chest, he was afraid it would burst right
through and fall to the ground. His knees shook with the enormity of his
emotions – gratitude, happiness and downright pleasure at how ‘sweet’ Albert
tasted. He could feel the undeniable tightness in his pants and he arched
closer to press himself against Albert – perhaps hoping it would ease the ache.
With a soft moan, Franz allowed his lashes to drift shut as he parted his lips
and darted out a tongue to tease…
“Ooh…!” Albert pulled away so
quickly that Franz almost lost his footing. He blinked in disbelief at his
friend, who was a bright beet red with a hand slapped over his mouth. Their
bodies still heaved with their rapid intake of breath both trying desperately
to stop the heady rush of heat that had flowed through them in that all too
brief moment.
Finally, Albert found his
voice and shrieked out almost childishly. “I…I…why did you have to use your
tongue?! That…that wasn’t a part of it!”
Franz stared at the flustered
teen for a moment longer. He stared at the wide blue eyes which looked oh so
innocent and wide with shock, looked at the swollen lips which were still
moving as the boy continued to complain and it became simply too much for the
blond to take. He slapped a hand over his mouth and tried to stop the giggles
that were beginning to rise to the surface. Albert tried to pout and ended up
looking even more adorable – at least to Franz – and no longer able to hold it
in, the blond fell into a chair and laughed out long and hard.
“Al…Albert…you idiot!” he
gasped helplessly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Ah, I love you.”
Funny how natural those three
words had come out despite his earlier trepidations and worry. Yes, he did love this adorable fool, who was now
trying to grab him in a headlock and as he willingly joined in the mock
wrestling match, he smiled softly to himself while listening to Albert
reciprocate the sentiment in a breathless whisper.