Rating: R (for occasional strong language, mild sexual references)
Fandom: Pokemon
Pairings: Multishipping
Genre: AU/Romance/Comedy/Drama
Status: On-going
Author's Notes: This collection aims to take the games of Pokemon X and Y and turn them upside down and then sideways. Bare in mind, I wrote a majority of this BEFORE the games were officially released and most of which remains unchanged. Don't expect it to be canon --- this is an AU (Alternative Universe) fanfiction. Characters will have DIFFERENT personalities and are older than their game personas. They live in the real world, where Pokemon is nothing more than a fictional creation. However, whenever possible, I will use the "Pokemon" names for things rather than the real world equivalent (e.g. Kalos in place of France). It may not follow chronological order. Be warned, much of this collection is rather naughty. Don't read if that kind of thing bothers you.
Index:
Calem
Picture this. A young man of 22 years, dark black hair and eyes to match, average height and build, dressed in a blue zipped jacket with a white t-shirt underneath. A two-tone messenger bag, with black and blue being the two tones, hung diagonally across his upper body. On his feet, he wore short black boots with black ankle socks. Finally, his hair was perfectly refined with the use of styling gel and it was suitably contained in a dark red cap, on which rested a set of black wide-frame glasses. By these standards, he was easily a finer groomed man compared to all the previous incarnations before him. And yet, everywhere he turned, he was being turned away for lacking "style". It was not the trip he had envisioned at all. Who was he? He was a nobody. At least, in Lumiose City, where the only thing that got recognised was style.
This nobody was a travel journalist from The New Unova, a weekly magazine that focused on the cultural life of Unovians, named Calem Xavier. He was not from Unova as it turns out, but from a place called London. It was an old city in the region known as the United Kingdom, famous for its monarches, hence the name. He had moved to Unova as a teenager for college and lived there ever since, but he maintained that British accent, as it was called, making him very popular with the ladies. Fast forward a mere three years later and he was already the youngest feature columnist for one of Unova's most popular and intellectual reads.
His latest assignment was Lumiose City. And although the New Unova was typically about life in Unova, as one could guess from its name, it occasionally lent its eyes and ears to other regions and, in particular, big cities. He did not come to Kalos for pleasure, but strictly business or so he thought...
Alexandra Paris, known to most as Alexa, always had two things going for her. One was her career, the other was her looks.
From her very first internship at Vogue Magazine and her later endeavors at Tatler Magzine, she always captured the glitz and glamour in all her stories. She spent a good deal of her twenties working for women's lifestyle magazine, so it was not quite surprising when she left to pursue a wider range of "lifestyle" publications. Her time at The New Unova, writing and modelling for the fashion columns, were all well and good, but Alexa was a woman with greater ambitions.
Managing Editor! Of Lumiose Press! Yes, of course, I'll accept!! - That was her answer when her boss offered her a promotion to work at Kalos' largest and most lucrative daily newspapers. It was quite the step up from Editorial Assistant at her previous role. Although it meant she had to move back to her home country, it was the easiest decision Alexa ever had to make. It was the best job opportunity, but more importantly, it brought her back to someone special.
One might be curious as to how Alexa made such a impact in the publishing world for someone quite young. She was obviously a woman with intelligence and drive, however that alone did not give her the upperhand over the thousands of other twenty-somethings vying for the same goals. No, there was one extra element that gave her the ultra edge: her beauty.
She had that classic look that many of those old movies stars from times past had. Big hair, prominant cheekbones and full lips painted in rouge. Not to mention, the body of a goddess. She was quite the Brigitte Bardot of Kalos. Definitely a woman that exuded a tremendious amount of sensuality; the type that men could never resist. She always got her story and she always got her man. That is not to say she ever slept with a man for anything but love or pleasure. Her beauty was simply a bonus in her profession. For who else could better represent the appeal of women's lifestyle than a beauitful woman who lead a full and enriching life with equal amounts of passion and fashion.
"Every moment must be captured on film" says the Santalune City's gym leader, Viola.
Her full name was Violetta Paris and she was Alexa's younger sister. More importantly, she was the deciding factor for Alexa's move to Kalos. Both girls were very close growing up despite the differences between them. Alexa was the social butterfly. There was not a single moment when she was not the center of attention. Viola, on the other hand, was not too fond of people. She much prefered the company of her bugs - they couldn't talk and she liked that.
Her speciality was photography and she never went anywhere without her camera. She prefered life behind the lens. It was odd that she wanted to capture real life at all considering her desire to detach herself from it, but she enjoyed capturing life's moments if only to make a mockery of it. With each photo, she gave it a new story of her own creation. She liked photos because, like bugs, they were something she could capture and control - whether it be on paper or in a bottle - unlike people, who are complicated and not easy to keep a hold of.
Look at me, she said with her body.
....
It was his first day in Kalos, specifically in Lumiose City, and good first impressions were not looking too bright. After being turned away from the Boutique Couture and the Hi Sushi Roller restaurant, he wandered around aimlessly until he found the Prism Tower at the very center of the city. It was breathtaking sight to behold. He had seen postcards and pictures on the internet of the structure many times over, but seeing it up close and in the flesh, so to speak, was something else entirely. No photograph could do it justice, not even the best photographer could capture it in all its metallic glory. Then there was the shiny interior, which was quite a sight in itself.
He was impressed. For the first time since he had stepped foot onto Kalos soil, Calem was genuinely glad to have came. So, it was quite unfortunate that he was then unceremoniously thrown out of Prism Tower by the way of a machine-operated trapdoor. It appeared that a lack of badges was as equally unacceptable as a lack of style. He could not comprehend why either of those two things should warrant such harsh and painful rejection. And if that was not bad enough, it had started on rain. Tiny drops at first, but then it quickly escalated into a full-blown shower in a matter of seconds.
Then she appeared...
A girl with golden locks, beaming with volume and life, and bright blue eyes that gleamed like they were made of sapphires. She was petite in form and stature. Her feet were like a ballerina's, but only in size. If someone was to hazard a guess by merely looking at them, one might say they were size 34 by European standards - 36 at most. Such delicate feet would need the appropriate shoes to fit, and this was not a girl who would overlook comfort over fashion. She had to have both and in this partcular instance, her extremities were adorned with a pretty pair of kitten pumps. Its full body of white emphasized the presenatation of simiplicity, while the shiny pink bow made of PVC was for that added feminine charm.
She wore a floral dress, which had a mixture of colours - with white, pink and green being the most prominent - composed of the finest and purest silk around. It was made from the kind of fabric that would cling and mold itself to anything that it touched. The dress itself was mildly translucent that one could easily see her lightly-coloured flesh through it and, in turn, her fine womanly figure. It was long in length, made for a tall woman, quite like dresses worn by models who have come straight off a catwalk at Kalos Fashion Week. The thin straps allowed her shoulders to be seen, while the top half of the dress worked as bustier. It was not painfully obvious, but a trained eye could tell she was otherwise quite lacking in that department. But regardless of clothing, she was beauitful with or without enhancements.
With great haste, she skipped underneath the red canopy of Lysandre Cafe to seek shelter from the pouring rain. She was drenched, much like Calem, from head to toe. However, unlike the male of this story, she still looked radiant as if she had just stepped out of the shower or the glorious ocean - much like those models in fashion advertisments. Adding on from the "just got out of the shower" look, she grabbed the majority of her beautiful golden locks, as one would when forming a singular ponytail. She then squeezed the clump of strands hard with both hands, in an attempt to rid it of the rain water, and finally bringing it to the left side over her shoulder. She tilted her head, only ever so slightly, in accordance to the movement of her hands. She finished by running her fingers through her damp hair, starting with the left hand and then the right, one after another. She must have done it, at least, half a dozen times, but every moment she did was just as captivating as the last.
F*** I'm wet. It finally occurred to him.
He was so immersed in looking at her that he had forgotten it was still raining heavily. As he walked over slowly to join her under the canopy, he found this simple act to be incredibly breathtaking, so much so that he could not take his eyes away from her nor did he want to. He did not care so much for shelter as much as he wished to be close to the girl. Standing a mere foot away underneath the same red umbrella, the girl had noticed him watching her from the corner of her eye at one point or another. Yet, it did not seem to faze her in the slightest that she was been ogled by a random male stranger in the middle of a public place. She cared even less for that fact that she had ruined what was clearly an expensive dress. Neither was of any consequence to her.
Another minute passed and Calem could not quite bring himself to speak to the pretty lady beside him. Instead, he would awkwardly peer at her and occassionally smile whenever he was caught eyeing her. After she was done drying herself the best she could, the girl had two options on her mind. The first was to run through the rain and escape this alone time with the somewhat creepy male at her side, which would have wasted her time drying off in the first place. Second, she could stay under the red canopy and wait out the rain. She chose the latter. After all, it was not the first time she had to deal with guys leering at her. If she ran everytime someone looked at her funny, she would have nowhere left to run anymore. Besides, creepy or not, she could not help but think he was kind of cute and, to be fair, she liked being looked at.
...
With nothing else to do but wait, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her bag and was about to place one in her mouth until she realised she was missing a vital item.
She turned to Calem, but she did not look him in the eye. "Bonjour monsieur, avez-vous une lumière?", she addressed him in a strong French accent, which he thought sounded a tad forced. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, unaware of what she had asked of him. "Ah. You don't speak French, do you, monsieur?"
"Umm.. Non," was all he could muster.
"My English is not so good. Hmm, what if I show you?"
Well, that sounds suggestive.
She made a gesture with her fist and thumb using her right hand in the same manner as one would if they were to use a lighter. She used her other hand to hold the cigarette over it. He understood her perfectly, fumbling his hands over his clothing paying particular attention to his pockets. He knew he had no lighter on him, as he was not a smoker, but he continued to pretend to rummage through this belongings as if to appear he had what she needed.
But she was rather impatient, so she did not wait for him to conjure up what would have been an imaginary lighter. She searched her purse again until she had found the piece of equipment she was looking; a plain silver lighter, which had the engraving of a bird and the letter Y on one side, and presumably her name, Serena, on the other. The item had fallen into her pocketbook without her notice. She then placed it in her right hand and flickered the metal coil on the top, in order to ignite it. A small burst of flame shot up from the steel hole and it crackled as it made contact with the coloured end of the nicotine stick. She took a drag from the other end and then exhaled a few puffs of the mildly intoxicating smoke from her mouth. Having satisfied her bodily urges, she finally drew her attention to Calem. Her eyes were on him, but she said nothing for her lips remained loyal to the cigarette.
"That won't do much to warm you up," he told her, trying to come off as either funny or wise, in a slightly more noticable British accent than his own. Being an Englishman, he realised that he could play up to the allure of his nationality by intensifyng the variant parts of his usual accent to be more attuned with "the Queen's English". It was a way to not only appear and sound more articulate, but a seductive lure for those who found British accents to be sexy. He figured a foreigner would be the most likely to fall for it, although he was not sure how well it would work if neither of the two understood each other very well. Aside from one or two instances of her conversing in English, he could not been certain if the girl could say much that was not in her native language. And he could not speak French outside of the basics found in a French phrasebook.
When his comment failed to make its mark, he laughed awkwardly to himself, as he was met by a silent and icy stare from the smoking lady. If Alexa was Brigitte Bardot, then this girl was certainly Catherine Deneuve. And if he was attempting to channel the same persona as Hugh Grant in all those sappy romantic comedies, then he was doing a fine job of it. All he was missing was the floppy hair.
Nevertheless, his intentions to impress her seemed to have worked. She removed the cigarette from her mouth and kept it between her fore and third fingers. "I can tell you're trying your hardest to impress me," she said in a serious tone, "but if you really wish to do this, you must say something interesting in Français".
Calem was surprised by the challenge she had laid down for him. Was she flirting with him or was she making fun of him? Who knew, but he was certainly not going to let this opportunity pass him by. He took a second to gather his thoughts. All those years of French classes were coming back to him and so he began to say, "Je m'appelle..." until he was cut off before he could finished his sentence and introduction.
"Oh please, nothing so dull," she sighed, "Excite me with something, er, exciting".
"Errr.... Voulez...vous... coucher avec moi, ce soir?" he said unconvincingly.
She gave out a stifled laugh, as she struggled to tell him without bursting into laughter, "I am flattée, but you didn't really mean to say, you wanted to have the sex with me".
Calem's heart stopped a beat. He could not believe what he had uttered. That was definitely not the thing to say to a stranger, and certainly not when the stranger is a girl and one that you wish to woo. He did his best to recover from that unfortunate slip of the tongue. Freudian slip or not, he certainly would not want the girl to think he was a sleaze even if all his actions in the last couple of minutes would imply just that.
"I am so sorry. Umm.... je suis désolé. I'm so embarrased," he tried desperately to explain, "T-T-That was from a song. It was the first thing in French that came into my head, I swear. I didn't mean anything by it".
It is true that he did not intend to state such a bold request or imply that she was easy to the point where such a question could be asked, especially upon their first meeting as strangers, but now that the thought had been brought to mind (not that he wasn't thinking it before), he could not deny, at least not to himself and that innate male-driven urge within him, that the thought of sleeping with a beauitful woman, particularly one as ravishing as the one stood next to him, was a delight he would partake in if the opportunity ever presented itself.
"You are so haha. It is too funny. I know the song you speak of," she informed him, as she coldheartly laughed at his embarassment. His faux pas would not be forgotten anytime soon as far as she was concerned. She couldn't have hoped for a more 'exciting' phrase in French. It would appear that Calem had passed the challenge with flying colours. Could it be that she was impressed by his lack of boundaries also as much as his failure in speaking her language. Or perhaps, she was just amused.
"Oh, you do," he said softly, as he did not quite believe it. He paused, looking to her face for any sign of sincerity, before adding with a little more confidence in his words, "Thank heavens. I wouldn't want you to think I was coming on too strong".
In her my most seductive French accent yet, she said, "and you don't think I like my men strong?" Although it was closer to a statement than a question.
"No, that's not quite what I meant," he assured her, "Strong as in... implusive".
"I... don't understand".
Fandom: Pokemon
Pairings: Multishipping
Genre: AU/Romance/Comedy/Drama
Status: On-going
Author's Notes: This collection aims to take the games of Pokemon X and Y and turn them upside down and then sideways. Bare in mind, I wrote a majority of this BEFORE the games were officially released and most of which remains unchanged. Don't expect it to be canon --- this is an AU (Alternative Universe) fanfiction. Characters will have DIFFERENT personalities and are older than their game personas. They live in the real world, where Pokemon is nothing more than a fictional creation. However, whenever possible, I will use the "Pokemon" names for things rather than the real world equivalent (e.g. Kalos in place of France). It may not follow chronological order. Be warned, much of this collection is rather naughty. Don't read if that kind of thing bothers you.
Index:
1. Can't Speak French (Calem x Serena)
2. Up All Night - Part One (Calem x Alexa)
3. Non-Mover (Calem x Professor Sycamore)
4. College (Calem x Trevor x Tierno)
5. The Girl on the Bridge (Calem x Viola)
6. Up All Night - Part 2 (Calem x Alexa)
7. Tell Me Y (Calem x Serena)
8. College Girls (Serena x Shauna)
9. Delusional Sunset (Calem x Serena)
10. You Like Your Girls Insane (Calem x Viola)
11. X Marks the Spot (Calem x Serena x Viola)
12. Up All Night - Part 3 (Calem x Alexa)
13. In Your Gallery (Calem x Viola)
14. Joysitck (Clemont x Serena)
15. No Hard Feelings
16. Melody Lane
17. In His DNA
18. Toxic
19. In My Imagination... Anything Goes
20. Up All Night - Part 5 (Calem x Alexa)
2. Up All Night - Part One (Calem x Alexa)
3. Non-Mover (Calem x Professor Sycamore)
4. College (Calem x Trevor x Tierno)
5. The Girl on the Bridge (Calem x Viola)
6. Up All Night - Part 2 (Calem x Alexa)
7. Tell Me Y (Calem x Serena)
8. College Girls (Serena x Shauna)
9. Delusional Sunset (Calem x Serena)
10. You Like Your Girls Insane (Calem x Viola)
11. X Marks the Spot (Calem x Serena x Viola)
12. Up All Night - Part 3 (Calem x Alexa)
13. In Your Gallery (Calem x Viola)
14. Joysitck (Clemont x Serena)
15. No Hard Feelings
16. Melody Lane
17. In His DNA
18. Toxic
19. In My Imagination... Anything Goes
20. Up All Night - Part 5 (Calem x Alexa)
Calem
Picture this. A young man of 22 years, dark black hair and eyes to match, average height and build, dressed in a blue zipped jacket with a white t-shirt underneath. A two-tone messenger bag, with black and blue being the two tones, hung diagonally across his upper body. On his feet, he wore short black boots with black ankle socks. Finally, his hair was perfectly refined with the use of styling gel and it was suitably contained in a dark red cap, on which rested a set of black wide-frame glasses. By these standards, he was easily a finer groomed man compared to all the previous incarnations before him. And yet, everywhere he turned, he was being turned away for lacking "style". It was not the trip he had envisioned at all. Who was he? He was a nobody. At least, in Lumiose City, where the only thing that got recognised was style.
This nobody was a travel journalist from The New Unova, a weekly magazine that focused on the cultural life of Unovians, named Calem Xavier. He was not from Unova as it turns out, but from a place called London. It was an old city in the region known as the United Kingdom, famous for its monarches, hence the name. He had moved to Unova as a teenager for college and lived there ever since, but he maintained that British accent, as it was called, making him very popular with the ladies. Fast forward a mere three years later and he was already the youngest feature columnist for one of Unova's most popular and intellectual reads.
His latest assignment was Lumiose City. And although the New Unova was typically about life in Unova, as one could guess from its name, it occasionally lent its eyes and ears to other regions and, in particular, big cities. He did not come to Kalos for pleasure, but strictly business or so he thought...
Alexa
Alexandra Paris, known to most as Alexa, always had two things going for her. One was her career, the other was her looks.
From her very first internship at Vogue Magazine and her later endeavors at Tatler Magzine, she always captured the glitz and glamour in all her stories. She spent a good deal of her twenties working for women's lifestyle magazine, so it was not quite surprising when she left to pursue a wider range of "lifestyle" publications. Her time at The New Unova, writing and modelling for the fashion columns, were all well and good, but Alexa was a woman with greater ambitions.
Managing Editor! Of Lumiose Press! Yes, of course, I'll accept!! - That was her answer when her boss offered her a promotion to work at Kalos' largest and most lucrative daily newspapers. It was quite the step up from Editorial Assistant at her previous role. Although it meant she had to move back to her home country, it was the easiest decision Alexa ever had to make. It was the best job opportunity, but more importantly, it brought her back to someone special.
One might be curious as to how Alexa made such a impact in the publishing world for someone quite young. She was obviously a woman with intelligence and drive, however that alone did not give her the upperhand over the thousands of other twenty-somethings vying for the same goals. No, there was one extra element that gave her the ultra edge: her beauty.
She had that classic look that many of those old movies stars from times past had. Big hair, prominant cheekbones and full lips painted in rouge. Not to mention, the body of a goddess. She was quite the Brigitte Bardot of Kalos. Definitely a woman that exuded a tremendious amount of sensuality; the type that men could never resist. She always got her story and she always got her man. That is not to say she ever slept with a man for anything but love or pleasure. Her beauty was simply a bonus in her profession. For who else could better represent the appeal of women's lifestyle than a beauitful woman who lead a full and enriching life with equal amounts of passion and fashion.
Viola
"Every moment must be captured on film" says the Santalune City's gym leader, Viola.
Her full name was Violetta Paris and she was Alexa's younger sister. More importantly, she was the deciding factor for Alexa's move to Kalos. Both girls were very close growing up despite the differences between them. Alexa was the social butterfly. There was not a single moment when she was not the center of attention. Viola, on the other hand, was not too fond of people. She much prefered the company of her bugs - they couldn't talk and she liked that.
Her speciality was photography and she never went anywhere without her camera. She prefered life behind the lens. It was odd that she wanted to capture real life at all considering her desire to detach herself from it, but she enjoyed capturing life's moments if only to make a mockery of it. With each photo, she gave it a new story of her own creation. She liked photos because, like bugs, they were something she could capture and control - whether it be on paper or in a bottle - unlike people, who are complicated and not easy to keep a hold of.
The Mystery Girl
Look at me, she said with her body.
....
It was his first day in Kalos, specifically in Lumiose City, and good first impressions were not looking too bright. After being turned away from the Boutique Couture and the Hi Sushi Roller restaurant, he wandered around aimlessly until he found the Prism Tower at the very center of the city. It was breathtaking sight to behold. He had seen postcards and pictures on the internet of the structure many times over, but seeing it up close and in the flesh, so to speak, was something else entirely. No photograph could do it justice, not even the best photographer could capture it in all its metallic glory. Then there was the shiny interior, which was quite a sight in itself.
He was impressed. For the first time since he had stepped foot onto Kalos soil, Calem was genuinely glad to have came. So, it was quite unfortunate that he was then unceremoniously thrown out of Prism Tower by the way of a machine-operated trapdoor. It appeared that a lack of badges was as equally unacceptable as a lack of style. He could not comprehend why either of those two things should warrant such harsh and painful rejection. And if that was not bad enough, it had started on rain. Tiny drops at first, but then it quickly escalated into a full-blown shower in a matter of seconds.
Then she appeared...
A girl with golden locks, beaming with volume and life, and bright blue eyes that gleamed like they were made of sapphires. She was petite in form and stature. Her feet were like a ballerina's, but only in size. If someone was to hazard a guess by merely looking at them, one might say they were size 34 by European standards - 36 at most. Such delicate feet would need the appropriate shoes to fit, and this was not a girl who would overlook comfort over fashion. She had to have both and in this partcular instance, her extremities were adorned with a pretty pair of kitten pumps. Its full body of white emphasized the presenatation of simiplicity, while the shiny pink bow made of PVC was for that added feminine charm.
She wore a floral dress, which had a mixture of colours - with white, pink and green being the most prominent - composed of the finest and purest silk around. It was made from the kind of fabric that would cling and mold itself to anything that it touched. The dress itself was mildly translucent that one could easily see her lightly-coloured flesh through it and, in turn, her fine womanly figure. It was long in length, made for a tall woman, quite like dresses worn by models who have come straight off a catwalk at Kalos Fashion Week. The thin straps allowed her shoulders to be seen, while the top half of the dress worked as bustier. It was not painfully obvious, but a trained eye could tell she was otherwise quite lacking in that department. But regardless of clothing, she was beauitful with or without enhancements.
With great haste, she skipped underneath the red canopy of Lysandre Cafe to seek shelter from the pouring rain. She was drenched, much like Calem, from head to toe. However, unlike the male of this story, she still looked radiant as if she had just stepped out of the shower or the glorious ocean - much like those models in fashion advertisments. Adding on from the "just got out of the shower" look, she grabbed the majority of her beautiful golden locks, as one would when forming a singular ponytail. She then squeezed the clump of strands hard with both hands, in an attempt to rid it of the rain water, and finally bringing it to the left side over her shoulder. She tilted her head, only ever so slightly, in accordance to the movement of her hands. She finished by running her fingers through her damp hair, starting with the left hand and then the right, one after another. She must have done it, at least, half a dozen times, but every moment she did was just as captivating as the last.
F*** I'm wet. It finally occurred to him.
He was so immersed in looking at her that he had forgotten it was still raining heavily. As he walked over slowly to join her under the canopy, he found this simple act to be incredibly breathtaking, so much so that he could not take his eyes away from her nor did he want to. He did not care so much for shelter as much as he wished to be close to the girl. Standing a mere foot away underneath the same red umbrella, the girl had noticed him watching her from the corner of her eye at one point or another. Yet, it did not seem to faze her in the slightest that she was been ogled by a random male stranger in the middle of a public place. She cared even less for that fact that she had ruined what was clearly an expensive dress. Neither was of any consequence to her.
Another minute passed and Calem could not quite bring himself to speak to the pretty lady beside him. Instead, he would awkwardly peer at her and occassionally smile whenever he was caught eyeing her. After she was done drying herself the best she could, the girl had two options on her mind. The first was to run through the rain and escape this alone time with the somewhat creepy male at her side, which would have wasted her time drying off in the first place. Second, she could stay under the red canopy and wait out the rain. She chose the latter. After all, it was not the first time she had to deal with guys leering at her. If she ran everytime someone looked at her funny, she would have nowhere left to run anymore. Besides, creepy or not, she could not help but think he was kind of cute and, to be fair, she liked being looked at.
...
With nothing else to do but wait, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her bag and was about to place one in her mouth until she realised she was missing a vital item.
She turned to Calem, but she did not look him in the eye. "Bonjour monsieur, avez-vous une lumière?", she addressed him in a strong French accent, which he thought sounded a tad forced. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, unaware of what she had asked of him. "Ah. You don't speak French, do you, monsieur?"
"Umm.. Non," was all he could muster.
"My English is not so good. Hmm, what if I show you?"
Well, that sounds suggestive.
She made a gesture with her fist and thumb using her right hand in the same manner as one would if they were to use a lighter. She used her other hand to hold the cigarette over it. He understood her perfectly, fumbling his hands over his clothing paying particular attention to his pockets. He knew he had no lighter on him, as he was not a smoker, but he continued to pretend to rummage through this belongings as if to appear he had what she needed.
But she was rather impatient, so she did not wait for him to conjure up what would have been an imaginary lighter. She searched her purse again until she had found the piece of equipment she was looking; a plain silver lighter, which had the engraving of a bird and the letter Y on one side, and presumably her name, Serena, on the other. The item had fallen into her pocketbook without her notice. She then placed it in her right hand and flickered the metal coil on the top, in order to ignite it. A small burst of flame shot up from the steel hole and it crackled as it made contact with the coloured end of the nicotine stick. She took a drag from the other end and then exhaled a few puffs of the mildly intoxicating smoke from her mouth. Having satisfied her bodily urges, she finally drew her attention to Calem. Her eyes were on him, but she said nothing for her lips remained loyal to the cigarette.
"That won't do much to warm you up," he told her, trying to come off as either funny or wise, in a slightly more noticable British accent than his own. Being an Englishman, he realised that he could play up to the allure of his nationality by intensifyng the variant parts of his usual accent to be more attuned with "the Queen's English". It was a way to not only appear and sound more articulate, but a seductive lure for those who found British accents to be sexy. He figured a foreigner would be the most likely to fall for it, although he was not sure how well it would work if neither of the two understood each other very well. Aside from one or two instances of her conversing in English, he could not been certain if the girl could say much that was not in her native language. And he could not speak French outside of the basics found in a French phrasebook.
When his comment failed to make its mark, he laughed awkwardly to himself, as he was met by a silent and icy stare from the smoking lady. If Alexa was Brigitte Bardot, then this girl was certainly Catherine Deneuve. And if he was attempting to channel the same persona as Hugh Grant in all those sappy romantic comedies, then he was doing a fine job of it. All he was missing was the floppy hair.
Nevertheless, his intentions to impress her seemed to have worked. She removed the cigarette from her mouth and kept it between her fore and third fingers. "I can tell you're trying your hardest to impress me," she said in a serious tone, "but if you really wish to do this, you must say something interesting in Français".
Calem was surprised by the challenge she had laid down for him. Was she flirting with him or was she making fun of him? Who knew, but he was certainly not going to let this opportunity pass him by. He took a second to gather his thoughts. All those years of French classes were coming back to him and so he began to say, "Je m'appelle..." until he was cut off before he could finished his sentence and introduction.
"Oh please, nothing so dull," she sighed, "Excite me with something, er, exciting".
"Errr.... Voulez...vous... coucher avec moi, ce soir?" he said unconvincingly.
She gave out a stifled laugh, as she struggled to tell him without bursting into laughter, "I am flattée, but you didn't really mean to say, you wanted to have the sex with me".
Calem's heart stopped a beat. He could not believe what he had uttered. That was definitely not the thing to say to a stranger, and certainly not when the stranger is a girl and one that you wish to woo. He did his best to recover from that unfortunate slip of the tongue. Freudian slip or not, he certainly would not want the girl to think he was a sleaze even if all his actions in the last couple of minutes would imply just that.
"I am so sorry. Umm.... je suis désolé. I'm so embarrased," he tried desperately to explain, "T-T-That was from a song. It was the first thing in French that came into my head, I swear. I didn't mean anything by it".
It is true that he did not intend to state such a bold request or imply that she was easy to the point where such a question could be asked, especially upon their first meeting as strangers, but now that the thought had been brought to mind (not that he wasn't thinking it before), he could not deny, at least not to himself and that innate male-driven urge within him, that the thought of sleeping with a beauitful woman, particularly one as ravishing as the one stood next to him, was a delight he would partake in if the opportunity ever presented itself.
"You are so haha. It is too funny. I know the song you speak of," she informed him, as she coldheartly laughed at his embarassment. His faux pas would not be forgotten anytime soon as far as she was concerned. She couldn't have hoped for a more 'exciting' phrase in French. It would appear that Calem had passed the challenge with flying colours. Could it be that she was impressed by his lack of boundaries also as much as his failure in speaking her language. Or perhaps, she was just amused.
"Oh, you do," he said softly, as he did not quite believe it. He paused, looking to her face for any sign of sincerity, before adding with a little more confidence in his words, "Thank heavens. I wouldn't want you to think I was coming on too strong".
In her my most seductive French accent yet, she said, "and you don't think I like my men strong?" Although it was closer to a statement than a question.
"No, that's not quite what I meant," he assured her, "Strong as in... implusive".
"I... don't understand".
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