30. Roman/Isabel
Roman: My sweet.
Isabel: Mon coeur.
Roman: There’s a big void next to me in bed where you should be.
Isabel: You were sound asleep. Didn’t want to wake you.
Roman: Well, I’m extremely glad you found your way out of the south wing.
Isabel: There were a few dodgy moments where I was flying blind, but yes, once I reached the library I was fine. I used the front door to your apartment because God knows what security alarms I might have set off trying to go downstairs through your office with the medieval gate.
Roman: Now that’s where the notorious medieval troll would have come in handy. No way would he have allowed you to leave.
Isabel: I wish you could hear me laugh. And now the new driver is giving me funny looks.
Roman: What happened to George?
Isabel: Three-day trip to a family thing with his wife. So now I have a guy who looks like The Terminator, taking his job very seriously.
Roman: As he should. You are extremely valuable. By the way, you left your panties here.
Isabel: I know. I couldn’t find a pen and paper to leave you a note. Thus I decided to leave my most sacred French underwear on the pillow. You know, like a calling card.
Roman: Are you telling me you’re currently sitting in the back seat of the Navigator sans any unmentionables?
Isabel: I so am. Where are they? I don’t want Gladys to find them.
Roman: They are currently in a very very safe place.
Isabel: Are you violating my panties?
Roman: You say violate, I say fondle and kiss.
Isabel: And you are still in bed.
Roman: Yes. Wish you were here. I can still smell you on the sheets.
Isabel: Oh God, Roman. Please don’t.
Roman: Please don’t what, my sweet?
Isabel: Please don’t make me all hot and bothered with The Terminator watching me.
Roman: You’re getting all hot and bothered. I can fix that. Tell him to turn around.
Isabel: You know I can’t. Dance rehearsal. Although if it gives you any perverse satisfaction, it will hurt when I dance tonight. I don’t even want to know what it”s going to feel like tomorrow.
Roman: Perverse satisfaction? As if I’m this cruel monster who wants my honey badger to hurt. If you hurt, I hurt. But I do hope, at the very least, the tenderness reminds you of me.
Isabel: Who else am I going to be reminded of? Tsk.
Roman: Did you have a good time today?
Isabel: I mean, as far as first dates go…
Roman: Technically it wasn’t our first date.
Isabel: Okay then, as far as second dates go… Not too bad.
Roman: Says the woman who had four earth-shattering orgasms.
Isabel: I know, right. So much for my plan to play hard-to-get.
Roman: I’ll give you that. Playing hard-to-get isn’t your strong suit.
Isabel: At least I try. You don’t even try. There were a few times when the future of the cheeses was hanging by a thread.
Roman: To be honest, it was worth ignoring my carnal urges and granting those cheeses clemency. Your ravioli was incredible.
Isabel: Maybe it was perhaps because I was feeding you said ravioli while sitting naked on your lap.
Roman: You were naked? See, I forgot about that. It was all about the pretty and very tasty ravioli for me.
Isabel: Well well well. If you forgot about me being naked, at least I know now to file that under things not to do next time.
Roman: Thanks for understanding. If I wasn’t a man of such strong moral principles, your state of undress might have been very distracting. Let’s talk about that cake though.
Isabel: Did you love it?
Roman: Did I love my cake, she asks. I’m eating the remnants as we speak. While reminiscing about the fingerpainting you did with the buttercream.
Isabel: Hmm. Creating memories, one lick at a time.
Roman: You’re making me hard again. And in case you were wondering, it’s not terribly comfortable getting hard at this point. I’m battling some sensitivity here.
Isabel: Poor baby. And I’m not even there to kiss it better.
Roman: All you have to do is demand The Terminator turn around so you can remedy my predicament.
Isabel: I would if I could, believe me.
Roman: So, “not too bad” is your final answer on how the date went.
Isabel: Roman.
Roman: Isabel.
Isabel: Today was one of the most amazing days of my life.
Roman: Then my Google search for how to pull off the perfect romantic date was not in vain.
Isabel: You Googled how to pull off the perfect romantic date.
Roman: I did.
Isabel: Be still my beating heart. So why did you have to ask Google what to do on a date?”
Roman: Loaded question, but fine. It’s because, before your lovely self, romantic dates were not exactly the aim. Today was all about romancing you and stealing your heart.
Isabel: And you were terribly successful, in case you were wondering.
Roman: So, it takes me to admit doing a Google search to win your affections.
Isabel: Not only that. You’re also a pretty good kisser. Among other things.
Roman: But none of the other things are worth turning around for.
Isabel: You know I can’t.
Roman: Are you dancing with the Russian tonight?
Isabel: Leave Sergei out of this, please. I don’t give you shit about Cassandra.
Roman: Before that night at the auction, I hadn’t seen Cassie in months.
Isabel: Sergei and I dance together. That’s all. Please don’t start.
Roman: Okay, I apologize. Jealousy is a new thing for me. It’s interesting the places it takes you in your mind.
Isabel: There’s nothing to be jealous about. N-O-T-H-I-N-G.
Roman: Well, if you say it like that and in all caps no less, then this is me slaying the green-eyed monster. Consider it slaughtered. Never to emerge from whatever depraved place it came from again.