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Luceh / Penneh
42nd Street Blues
Sun Aug 28, 2005 13:47
69.105.80.41

Moira was … intriguing.

Matteo watched her wander through the Medici compound's gardens from his balcony, admiring the curvy figure resplendent in Parisian silk. The ivory hue complemented her peaches-and-cream complexion, and set off the blazing hair to perfection - just as he had wished.

The woman had been gracious enough when they landed in Naples almost two weeks before, met by his associates. Indeed, her manner had remained pleasant during the long drive up to the family seat of power, and into the fortified compound that his wife had once held complete sway over. Assuredly, this was the first time Don Matteo had brought home a woman since Olivia's death. The staff reacted without comment; a guest suite was cleaned for the American while she was ferreted away to a café in Florence that had served her host since he was a mere child.

Two promises he had extracted from her. One, to never go outside his estate by herself. It was for her own protection - if she preferred a female bodyguard, one would be secured for her. Two, if Moira wished to return to her home at any time, all she had to do was speak up and preparations would be made immediately to grant that wish. Despite his ancient name, and ruthless reputation, Matteo was just a man.

A man who intended to woo the woman of his choice.

And, as he had learned over the years, honey worked far better than demands. Venice for three days, Paris for a weekend (including a trip to the garment district and Moulin Rouge), and up to the Emerald Isle for almost a week. Just watching Moira stride across a flower strewn hill, in naught but a silk shirt and shorts had been worth every penny.

But there was something missing, an event that the crime lord had sworn would not be rushed. His hunger for her rose steadily as each evening wound down into the darkness. Both retreated to empty beds, Matteo's sleep patterns growing more restless as the presence of his American angel was denied. But he was a man cut from diner cloth than many of his comrades, and a lord did not simply toss a woman into bed and ravish her.

No, he stalked. Set traps. Fanned her own passions until a joining was mutually desired.

Dancing after dinner led to kissing which, in turn, led to another lonely night. But not this night. Moira would be returning to New York in just two days. With the beauty would go an old man's affections. So Matteo withdrew from the balcony, and gave himself a brief glance in the full mirror that his wife had installed in their chambers long ago.

Old. Slim. Hair the color of iron. He had once been considered handsome, though lines caressed the flesh around his mouth and eyes. It would have to do. Dressed simply in a white shirt and dark slacks, his shoes tapped faintly against the stairs during his descent to the private gardens. Tonight they would dine outside, plied with aged wine and the celtic music Moira seemed to favor.

She was waiting for him at the table, curvy and smiling. Matteo was hard pressed not to throw her down and have his way with her, but somehow he managed to get her tucked into a seat with little effort before claiming the other.

Spoiled. Beautiful. His. "You look absolutely radiant tonight, cara mia." Vegetarian pasta. Red Wine. A man could only take so much. Right? Halfway through another meal of intelligent conversation about politics (Matteo adored women with sharp minds), he rose unceremoniously and stalked around the table. Leaning down, he gathered her into his arms, and guided one of her hands down his chest and past his belt to the source of his affliction.

"I am simply a man, Moira. Come. Let me make love to you." Let me make you mine.

The unspoken words glittered in dark, Italian eyes.




Younger than springtime are you.

Joe's voice spoke to her across the decades, conjuring images of a young Navy officer and the foreign girl he fell in love with, despite himself. Penny twirled idly, absently dipping into long practiced routines while she let the music and lyrics guide her. Simple versus elegant. How to evoke the right mood with this piece?

Arms stretched above her head, the dancer performed a series of jeté, leaping from leg to leg across the stage to see if the movement mirrored the rising passion of a young couple. Or maybe--

The shriek of the cell phone froze her in a mockery of arabesque, one toe en pointe while the other leg rose behind her. Music all but forgotten, she stepped forward fluidly, watching Andrea saunter towards the stage in muted anger. Or, at least, that is what the sparks of irritation leaping from her gaze said.

And then, “Penelope, Luciana wishes to speak with you.”

SQUEE!

Penny practically yanked the phone out of the Italian's hand, absently mumuring an apology just seconds before wandering away to jabber into the reciever. Phone theft 101. Hi, Penny! We're coming home in a couple days. "You'd better, girl. I miss you." Miss you too. I think Caleb is going to take up shucking clams when we get home. It's his new favorite food. "Ha! You couldn't drag him into a fast food restaurant, could you." Well, no? Anyway, he's taking me out for some fresh air before the next round of shagging commences. Love you, Pen. "Love you too, Lucy." ~click~.

Sigh.

Flipping the phone closed, Penny wandered off into the maze of backstage, and tapdanced her way down the stairs to the dressing rooms. Only the principle cast members had private rooms on the ground floor, everyone else used the ones in the basement. The costumes and props were down there as well. It was where the brunette felt most at home when she wasn't putting the cast through their paces before real rehearsal began.

Wandering into the nearest gypsy enclave, also known as Dressing Room #1, she set the phone down on the long vanity and closed the door. Mind completely tied up in plotting the possibility of a surprise 'welcome home' party, she stripped down to her panties just as … well, as Andrea strode in demanding his phone back.

"Hey! Naked person in here! OUT!"

Even imports from Europe were allowed to occasionally bellow. Especially when trying to cover lithe, nearly naked bodies.






  • Glimpses of ScenesCaleb Holmes, Fri Aug 26 21:51
    Frankly, Moira was downright pleased with herself. Everything for the wedding had turned out marvelously, even the silver lanterns that hung in bunches above every table – which she hadn’t been... more
    • 42nd Street Blues — Luceh / Penneh, Sun Aug 28 13:47
      • Preparations!An Assembled Cast, Sun Aug 28 23:23
        She absolutely loved it here! Moira’s gaze slid longingly through the same gardens she had traipsed about nearly every evening since they had remained at Matteo’s home. Well, homestead. Plantation.... more
        • Many Happy ReturnsCaleb Holmes, Mon Aug 29 01:19
          “We just had to come back home during rush hour, didn’t we hon?” Caleb sighed, staring ahead at the line of cars that blocked his path home. Move you bastards, move! Absently, he reached over and... more
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