“What do you know about my sister?” Darcy turned again to Fletcher.
“I know that I’ve had a mad crush on her for over six months,” Fletcher said around a pretzel stick.
“That’s what you know about yourself; what do you know about her?” Darcy countered.
“She has an overprotective brother. She grew up in England. She plays beautifully but she’s not much of a cook,” Fletcher looked briefly to Georgiana, “sorry, sweetie.” Darcy began an interrogation of Fletcher.
“When is her birthday?”
“Ummm”
“What’s her middle name?”
“Francesca?”
“Wrong. What color are her eyes?” Georgiana quickly put her hands over her eyes, laughing.
“Green?”
“Wrong again.”
“Let’s see you pass that test!” Fletcher exclaimed. Darcy rose to the challenge and said, confidently and without looking at Elizabeth,
“Elizabeth’s eyes are brown, her birthday is November 12, and her middle name is Claire.”
“Wrong!” Elizabeth laughed. “Claire is Jane’s middle name. Mine is Anne.”
“Your middle name is Anne?” he frowned, looking at her. She nodded. His shoulders slumped a little. Fletcher and Georgiana burst out laughing.
“Do I have permission to date your sister?” Fletcher asked teasingly. “I am the father of her puppy, you know.” Darcy gave a dramatic sigh and put his drink down.
“Well, I guess I don’t have much choice, the scandal will ruin her,” Darcy replied. “Is Moopy a family name or is he the first?”
“His real name is Sir Moopford of Rothingham. We come from a noble line, sadly ruined by gambling and drink,” Fletcher said, shaking his head in sorrow. Darcy and Elizabeth laughed. The conversation turned to next week’s show until Fletcher excused himself to the restroom. Darcy immediately turned to Georgiana.
“How much does he know about you?” he said quietly. Georgiana looked at Elizabeth, who studied her menu as if preparing for a test. Not trusting Elizabeth, Georgiana replied in perfect French,
“He knows a lot about me but nothing about our money. He thinks I rely on you for extra money.”
Darcy continued in French,
“Does he know about your trust fund?”
“No.”
“Does he know about George?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Why would I tell him about George? No. About the money? We’ll see. Do you approve otherwise?”
“Georgie, you don’t need my approval,” he said, taken aback. “You can see whomever you want; I just want you to be careful, that’s all.”
“All the same, I’d like it,” Georgie replied.
Darcy shrugged. “Fletch is a good guy, I like him. I see no reason you shouldn’t date him.”
“Thanks,” she said, reverting to English. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.
Elizabeth did not understand much French and she felt her exclusion acutely. Georgiana obviously didn’t trust her. It made her both ashamed and angry. She would be agreeable but she would not pander for Georgiana’s approval, no matter what. The only approval she sought was Darcy’s. She resolved to be polite to Georgiana but not go out of her way to impress her.
The dinner conversation stayed on safe topics such as the weather, recent popular science articles and the like. Georgiana felt herself warm up to Elizabeth slightly despite her solid reservations about her. Will was clearly - clearly - taken with Elizabeth. She did have a talent for teasing him and making him laugh, which relieved Georgiana. She was tired of seeing him miserable. He certainly hadn’t looked miserable when they arrived, in any event. But she would reserve judgment until she got to know her better.
After they had finished their meals, Darcy sat back and looked at Elizabeth, satisfied in his chest and his belly. The last six hours had been complete chaos, with her call, the rush to the airport, the tryst at his place, the concert, and now dinner. He wanted to go home and savor her. He put his hand on the back of the booth and played with a lock of her hair. It took a good deal of self-control not to pull her to him and shower her with kisses. She leaned forward for something and he dropped his hand to her low back. She leaned her head on her fist and looked at him.
“Ready?” he asked. She nodded. “Fletcher, Georgie, it’s been a pleasure,” he said as he stood. He dropped some bills on the table to pay for dinner.
“Shall I call you tomorrow?” Georgie asked.
“No! Er, no. Elizabeth is only in town until Sunday, I’ll be busy.” He slipped his hand into Elizabeth’s and twined their fingers together and they said goodnight.
“I like your brother,” Fletcher said as he savored a sip of wine. “He’s a good guy.”
“He’s an exceptional man,” Georgiana corrected him as she watched Darcy and Elizabeth exit.
“He’s got it bad,” Fletcher commented, watching Georgiana closely.
She continued to watch Elizabeth’s retreating figure when she replied, “If she hurts him, I will kill her myself.”
***
They walked back to Darcy’s place hand-in-hand.
“I don’t think Georgiana likes me much,” Elizabeth ventured. Darcy sighed.
“Georgiana and I are very, very close. We went through some very trying times together. We tend to be overprotective of each other, although this is the first time she has ever taken an interest in who I’m involved with.” He looked over at Elizabeth. “But then, I’ve never been really serious about anyone before, so it’s natural that she’d take an interest in you.”
They walked on in silence until they reached his building. The doorman nodded pleasantly as they entered.
“I didn’t know you could speak French,” she said as they got into in the elevator. Darcy punched the button.
“Eight solid years of French in school, and many summer vacations spent at least in part in Paris,” he sighed. “At my father’s insistence. We’re British but we have French roots. Very important to remember that we were originally the D’Arcy’s with an apostrophe,” he mused.
Elizabeth pushed the stop button and the elevator ground to a halt.
“What are you doing!?” he exclaimed.
“Monsieur D’Arcy, I do not think I can wait to get to the bedroom. I insist that you say something in an outrageous French accent right now,” she said turning to him with a naughty smile.
He laughed at her.
“Vous portez un beau chemisier bleu.”
“What did you say?” she asked, putting her arms around his waist.
“I said that you are wearing a lovely blue blouse,” he grinned.
“Oh, Monsieur, not good enough. Try again.” She pulled his t-shirt from his waistband and slipped one hand under it, caressing his low back.
“Vous avez de beaux yeux.”
She looked at him expectantly.
“I said you have beautiful eyes.”
“Better,” she said, running her fingertips over his nipple. She felt his groin stir. “But not quite good enough.”
He tried again. “Vous me taquinez si vous jouez avec mon mamelon.”
She waited for the translation.
“You are teasing me by playing with my nipple.” She pushed his t-shirt up and put her tongue on his nipple and licked it, then took it in her mouth and sucked. She heard him exhale with a little groan.
“Votre bouche a le goût du caramel chaud. Your mouth tastes like warm caramel,” was rewarded with a deep kiss.
“J'aime quand vous me touchez. I like it when you touch me,” gained him a hot kiss on the stomach and an intimate, seductive caress of his butt.
A breathy “Vous aimez ma saveur? Do you like the way I taste?” resulted in her unzipping his pants and briefly, much too briefly, tasting him.
A hungry “J'aime comme vos seins épousent mes mains. I love how your titties fit in my hands,” caused her to pull her tank top
up over her breasts and put his hands on her. He squeezed them and stroked her nipples while kissing her for some time before he spoke again.
“Votre slip me bloque la main. Your panties are in my way,” he said hoarsely. She pulled up her skirt and turned her back to him, showing him her thong underwear. She slipped them down, bending over for him as she pushed them to the floor. Then she turned back to him with an inviting look.
He kissed her and pulled up her skirt, slipping his fingers inside of her and then pulling them out. He put his fingers to her lips.
“Your pussy is hot and tastes like pears,” he whispered in English.
“Ah-ah-ah, en français, s'il te plaît,” she said mischievously, exhausting her knowledge of the Gallic language.
He struggled for a moment to remember the French equivalent for “pussy.” “Votre chatte est brulante et a un goût des poires juteuses”
She rewarded him by taking his fingers into her mouth, tasting herself. She closed her eyes as she sucked his fingers, then, still massaging his fingers with her tongue, opened her eyes to stare boldly at him.
He was overcome with a savage lust for her.
“Je veux vous baiser. I want to fuck you.” She lifted herself onto the railing and spread her legs. He pushed her skirt up, thumbs tracing her folds.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked in English.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“En français!” he said roughly.
“Oui,” she replied breathlessly.
He pushed into her and she leaned her head back against the wall, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“En français!” he barked, slapping her thigh.
“Oui!” she yelped. She smiled and let out a little laugh. “Oui.”
“Harder?”
“Oui.”
“Deeper?”
“Oui.”
He pushed into her and she squirmed against him.
“Fuck me,” she said against his neck.
“En français,” he rasped.
“I don’t...” she began,
“Baise-moi,” he said against her lips.
“Baise-moi,” she repeated against his.
“Baise-moi,” they repeated it together as he thrust into her.
In an act defying gravity, he fucked her against the elevator wall. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, drawing him in as far as she could. He smashed his face against hers in fierce kisses, biting her lip and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He held onto the railing and used it to leverage himself further into her. He felt an instinctive need to possess her, to be possessed by her. He made feral grunts as he thrust into her; she made no attempt to stifle her own wild, hoarse moans and groans as she ground herself against him. She dug her nails into his back as she reached orgasm with a throaty growl. He spilled into her with an animalistic snarl and the satisfaction of a conqueror, her lower lip caught between his teeth.
They stood, shaking from their exertions, she clinging to him. After long moments, he lifted her from the rail and let her skirt fall around her.
“Jesus Christ,” he laughed shakily. “Jesus Christ.” He thought his knees might give out.
Elizabeth laughed and put her head against his chest.
“Je t'aime,” she said.
He put his arms around her. “Je t'aime,” he replied, putting a lingering kiss on the top of her head. After a moment, he zipped up his pants and released the stop button on the elevator. She picked up her panties and balled them in her hand. The elevator shuddered back to life and in a moment they were at his floor. He followed her to his door, both smiling in wicked satisfaction.
Chapter 27
“Don’t you have to work?” Lou laughed as Elizabeth met him at the San Diego airport Wednesday morning.
“I run the office, I do what I want,” she said haughtily. “And I wanted you to come visit for the day,” she added firmly.
“All that power has gone to your head,” Lou replied, rolling his eyes. “Lucky for you I didn’t have any appointments scheduled today... once I cancelled them,” he added slyly.
Elizabeth laughed and tucked her arm into his elbow and they went to a late breakfast. They chatted amiably over pancakes and eggs, then strolled to a shopping center.
“Help me pick out a new shirt,” Lou said as they entered the men’s section of Macy’s. “I have a date this weekend.”
“Is this the Denny I keep hearing about?” she asked nonchalantly.
Lou nodded, trying to suppress a smile.
Lou spent the next half hour talking about Denny: he was a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman living in Vancouver. He was a friend of a friend of Charlotte’s. He had sandy blond hair and hazel eyes and liked to play hockey. Lou was obviously smitten.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you,” Elizabeth said sadly.
Lou put an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t be. We’ve all got our paths to walk. Yours veered off to San Diego for a few months. You’ll be back soon.” He gave her a little squeeze.
Elizabeth put her arm around his waist. “Thanks for sticking with me with the whole Darcy drama. I know it’s a bad soap opera.”
“It is. Hopefully it’s over, but I’m here for you, sweet pea, no matter what. I’ve got your back.”
Elizabeth smiled and pulled him into a lingerie shop.
“So how was your big reunion this weekend?” Lou asked. He might still have his reservations about Darcy, but he still loved some good sexy gossip. Elizabeth was delighted to oblige. She described to him her long-distance strip tease, much to his amusement, while they looked over bras. Then she told him about the coffee shop show, and finally, “And then we did it in the elevator.” She gave him a mischievous grin and held a red lacy teddy up to her chest.
“In the elevator?” Lou exclaimed, shocked. He shook his head at the teddy and she hung it back up.
“In the elevator,” she confirmed.
“Lizzy, you little tramp! I’m very proud of you,” he laughed. “Remind me to start carrying wet wipes everywhere!”
He picked up a pair of garters and showed them to her. She wrinkled her nose. He put them back.
He nodded in approval as she picked up a yellow gauzy confection. “Try that on,” he said. He followed her to the dressing room.
“What do you think?” she asked as she opened the door for him.
Lou smiled. “Very pretty. I think he’ll like it.”
Elizabeth smiled and closed the door. It really was a relief to have Lou as her best friend; he had impeccable taste and never let her go out looking awful in order to make himself look better. In his opinion, a good looking companion was the best accessory.
She came out and they rifled through panties. He picked up a pair of panties comprised of a small mesh triangle and three strings. He frowned.
“Really, what is the point?” he said. He held them to his waist. “No support, doesn’t conceal anything. Why not just go without?”
“I believe those are more of a hair net,” Elizabeth commented. Lou laughed.
***
As expected, on the following Friday there were a number of familiar faces from the courthouse at the coffee shop. They were mostly younger lawyers, fresh out of school; most older attorneys were either not interested or respected Darcy’s private pursuits. But the young attorneys were too curious to stay away.
Elizabeth sat in the rear and heard several conversations about Darcy. A couple of young men were commenting on a case they had recently tried before him and laughing; another set were remarking on his musical talent. Two young women were standing beside her, and one was saying, “Did I tell you he auctioned himself at this year’s Pediatric Aids Foundation bachelor auction?”
“No!” exclaimed the other attorney. The first one nodded.
“My sister-in-law was on the organizational committee and I went to the auc
tion with her and a couple of friends. I almost died when I saw him in the catalogue! Let me just tell you, he was hot. I got them to all give me their money to bid on him but we only had $5,000 and he was bid beyond that after about four bids.”
“Get out! How much did he go for?”
“Sixty-one thousand!” the first laughed.
“What?” the second exclaimed.
“Yes, there was a bidding war and it escalated way out of control, it was hysterical. My sister told me that he had actually promised to match the winning bid, so he wound up donating another $61,000 to the Foundation. I’m sure he didn’t think he’d get bid that high but she said he paid it that night.” Elizabeth was surprised at this; she thought he had also paid for the bid. He had paid $122,000 to avoid her spending her savings?!
“He must have some other source of income then because he certainly couldn’t spare that on a judge’s salary.”
“Uh, yeah. Have you ever looked at his suits? You don’t buy Dolce & Gabbana on a judge’s salary. He’s got some serious cash somewhere.”
“Is he married?” asked the second.
“No ring. He suddenly looks very tasty, doesn’t he?” the first laughed and the second nodded, laughing as they moved away.
Elizabeth felt a mixture of satisfaction and indignation. They were after talking about her Darcy, so she was pleased that they found him attractive but she didn’t like the discussion of his money. She scowled into her tea for a minute until she heard her name.
“Lizzy?”
“Charlotte! It’s so good to see you!” Elizabeth exclaimed as she stood and hugged her. Charlotte gave her a squeeze and sat down across from her.
“Are you back now?” Charlotte asked. Elizabeth shook her head.
“No, not for a few more weeks. I’m back visiting my sister.”
“You look great! Nice suntan.” Charlotte looked around. “I see you heard the rumors too? Last week this rumor spread that Judge Darcy was playing guitar in a coffee shop and nobody would ask him about it but everyone seems to have shown up. And there he is!” she exclaimed as she looked over toward the stage area. “Who would have thought!”
Elizabeth said nothing. She was confident that Lou would not have revealed her secret to Charlotte despite their friendship. Should she say anything about her relationship with Darcy? Was it too soon? She decided not to do it; she would discuss it with Darcy first.
The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy Page 30