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Jun. 12th, 2010 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pitythetrumperFreddie still didn't know what was going on, but at least he had a bed and a beautiful woman in the other room and when she was there, he could forget who she looked like. He could forget that there was another man here with his face. He could forget that Sergievsky was here. Curled up in the dark, he could even forget that he was on this island and could pretend that he'd never quit the game.
His dreams were troubled and he slept restlessly, but he did sleep. Through the night, his shirt came off in the face of the oppressive heat and by morning, he was only wearing his boxers.
In the face of his sleepless night, he should have woken up at the first hint of light, but he was still asleep, a hand strewn over his face, when the first signs of people awake in the hut began.
Prior had been spending most of his nights with Scotty these days, to the point where he was wondering if he shouldn't just 'officially' move in - but then, if Scotty wasn't going to bring it up, then he sure wasn't going to. In any case, it wasn't as if it was exactly inconvenient to go across the street when he needed to, and this morning he thought he'd grab some more clothes. And say hi to Maureen, since he was starting to feel like one of Those Friends, the ones that disappeared after getting a boyfriend.
Of course, he wasn't surprised when she was still asleep when he got there; he peeked into her room and saw her sprawled out in tangled sheets in some sort of lacy number, though at least she was alone. He padded across the hall to his own room then...
... and saw Roger naked in his bed.
"Fuck me!" he blurted, staring.
The voice woke him and he already knew that it wasn't Maureen's. Hadn't she mentioned having a roommate? The one whose bed he was in? "Maybe after another hour of sleep," he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. Not bothering to actually see who he was addressing. His mouth opened in a jaw-cracking yawn. "Or maybe two."
Speaking of not seeing who he was addressing... Prior's eyesight was not great. Even his glasses didn't help a whole hell of a lot, since part of the problem were the cotton woolly patches that just floated there in the field of his vision. The smart-ass response wasn't exactly doing anything to disavow him of the assumption that this was Roger, either.
Setting his mouth in a thin, straight line, he marched up to the bed and threw the blanket off of him. "Out," he snapped. "I don't know why you're trying to fuck with me now, but it's not going to work. You made it perfectly clear how you felt when you were a complete asshole to me, and what, now that I'm finally happy with someone else you've suddenly remembered that I give great blowjobs and you want back in my bed? No way. You had your chance, you fucked it up, and these lips are off-limits."
Freddie blinked blearily up at the man. "What in the hell are you talking about? I don't know you from Adam." He liked the idea of great blowjobs, but now probably wasn't the best time to mention it. Not when he was being kicked out of bed. "Maureen said I could stay here. You're the roommate, right? She said you wouldn't mind if I spent the night."
He wasn't sure he needed this first thing in the morning.
Now that Prior was closer to him, he got a better look at the man in his bed. He blinked, and took a step backward. "You're... not Roger," he said. For one thing, he wasn't as thin. He looked a hell of a lot like Roger, but that wasn't the body Prior had come to know so well.
Freddie groaned. "No, I'm not Roger." He should have listened to Maureen when she'd said that people would mistake him for another man. He just hadn't really...paid attention. "I'm Freddie. Freddie Trumper. New to the island."
Prior went a little pink. He ran a hand through his hair and blurted, "Maureen has the tact of a gnat sometimes." He cleared his throat. "Sorry for waking you. I just wasn't expecting someone with my ex's face to be in my bed. And it's not that I mind you using it... just would have been nice to have some warning. I'm Prior... Prior Walter. I just came to get some clothes..." He moved to a chest of drawers on the other side of the bed.
Freddie watched him through slitted eyes. "I really look that much like him, then?" And his doppleganger's ex? Was definitely a looker. "And of course Maureen would have known. I can see why you said gnat." He yawned slowly and stretched. "It's good to meet you, even if you weren't expecting me."
"Yeah..." Prior turned and looked at him. "Yeah, you really fucking do. Well, your hair's different. And he's thinner. And - " He quirked a smile. "He sure as hell wouldn't be in my bed. I suppose I should give Maureen credit for her self restraint in the fact that you're in here and not in there - " He blinked. "Oh, unless you're gay? Though I'm starting to think my boyfriend and I are the only queers on the island that aren't more toward the middle of the Kinsey scale."
Freddie laughed and rolled onto his stomach, not caring about the fact that he was almost naked. "Well, I would sleep with you and soon as I would her." He considered that and, with a wave of his hand, amended, "Actually, I'd sleep with you first, but only because she looks like someone I know back home." His memories of Florence were still too raw to really consider sleeping with Maureen. "But I'm more opportunistic than anything else."
Oh, he would just have to say that, wouldn't he. Prior very purposely brought an image of Scotty to his mind. And instantly felt a little calmer. He looked back at Freddie and smiled. "Well, you might not say that if you knew more about me. And from what I understand Maureen can be very persuasive." On the other hand, he wasn't sure how she'd feel about sleeping with someone who looked like Roger... oh, who was he kidding. She'd probably do it just to fuck with everyone.
He cleared his throat. "Well. Got my clothes. I should be going, leave you to your..." His eyes traveled almost involuntarily over Freddie's body. "Morning."
"Oh, I believe she is. I'm sleeping here, after all." Freddie spread his hand along his body, meaning the bed, but not voicing what, exactly, he meant. "If you ever need the bed, let me know. It is yours, after all, and I'm sure we can arrange something." Arrange what, he didn't say. He couldn't help liking the eyes on his body.
Prior wondered how long it would take Freddie to hear that he had AIDS. Might change that pretty quickly. He shifted his eyes away very purposely. "Well, my boyfriend lives across the street, so I'm not here much anymore. You're welcome to sleep here. I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." His voice dropped into a playful drawl at that last bit.
"How kind are we talking about here?" Freddie asked. "And which stranger?" This Prior was an interesting contradiction. From modest to flirting in two or three sentences. Definitely an interesting combination.
Prior lifted an eyebrow. "It's a line from a play," he said. "And I'm pretty sure I'm the kind stranger in this scenario." He offered Freddie a little smile and shifted the folded clothes under his arm.
"And any way I can repay that kindness," Freddie teased, "just let me know." He wasn't really planning on doing anything, but a little harmless flirting couldn't hurt anything. Especially when he didn't have anyone to argue with him. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that sounded particularly Russian that asked how what he was doing was any different than what Florence had done before he'd interrupted her little meeting with Sergievsky. It was different. Very different.
Luckily Prior didn't have much time to dwell on the completely weirdness of someone with Roger's face flirting with him - because Maureen chose that moment to appear in the open door. She was wearing the red silk robe that Prior had made for her (one of three, the other two going to Scotty and Jack), and her hair was pleasantly mussed from sleep. He imagined she was, what, fuckable, if he were into that sort of thing.
"Look who's sleeping in my bed, Mama Bear," he said dryly.
Maureen, who had rolled out of bed at the sound of voices, yawned a little, looking nonplussed. Her eyes drifted to Freddie then and there was a sudden obvious keen interest in them as they raked over his body in a way much more deliberate than Prior's gaze earlier.
"I see you've met," she said, looking back at Prior. "Um. Sorry for not... well, I was going to track you down today. What is it you always say about the kindness of strangers?"
"I was just asking about that." Freddie's eyes went back to Prior. "About how I can repay his kindness for taking his bed." He shifted his eyes to Maureen, eyes sliding slowly over her body. "Or yours. I don't suppose you have any ideas about how I can repay you, do you?" He knew that she did. Knew that she knew exactly what he was talking about.
Again, lucky for Prior, Freddie's shift in focus to something involving heterosexual sex was enough to kill anything on his end. "And on that note, I think I'll be going," he said. "Next time leave a note, okay?" he added to Maureen. "And if anyone shows up who looks like Louis, he's sleeping in your bed." Over his shoulder - "Nice meeting you." - to Freddie, and then he swept through the door and out of the hut.
Maureen took a step in then. "Sorry about that," she said. "He's right, I should have left a note. Though on the bright side, at least he and Roger are on bad terms. Otherwise he might have just crawled into bed with you."
"You make that sound like a bad thing," Freddie teased. "Were your ears burning? You missed our conversation about you." Not much of a conversation, but now that she was here, the conversation was definitely about her. His attention was definitely on her and you couldn't have pulled it away from her if you'd tried. Well, maybe one person could have, but he wasn't here.
"Sugar, someone's always talking about me," Maureen teased, and slid onto the edge of the bed. She swung one leg over the other so that the robe fell around it, revealing bare leg from mid-thigh down.
"Did you sleep well? I see you made yourself comfortable."
"Very. It's warm in here." Not that he planned on getting dressed just because she was here. "And I see you're making yourself comfortable. Are you staying if I decide to go back to sleep?"
"It's a tropical island," Maureen laughed, "it's always warm. And no, I suppose if you decide to go back to sleep, I'll just be on my merry way. Though it isn't exactly early."
"Sun, sand, and beautiful women." His lips twitched. "And you definitely know that you're beautiful." He couldn't help what happened next. He leaned over to her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Maybe he shouldn't have. No, he definitely shouldn't have, but he did anyway.
Maureen smiled at him and leaned a little closer. "And you're very charming. I don't think I've ever met a champion chess player who's quite so smooth."
"I can be very charming when I want to," Freddie murmured. "And how many champion chess players have you known in your life?"
"None," said Maureen easily. "Though in New York I knew a drag queen that liked to challenge old men to games in Central Park."
"Well, if she comes here, be sure to send her my way. Otherwise, I'll just have to settle for that...that..." Oh. Hell. "What did the person you were talking about, the one who played chess, look like?" It couldn't be.
Maureen shrugged. "I don't know... young, dark hair, fairly unremarkable." She snapped her fingers. "You know, I remember Jack carving a chess set for someone ages ago. He lives a couple of houses over, you could ask him who it was for."
Except there was one way to be pretty sure. He moved his hand to his neck. "Curly hair? About to hear? Russian accent if you heard him speak?"
Maureen wrinkled her nose, vaguely annoyed that the conversation had shifted so abruptly from better things, like for example, how beautiful she was. "Curly hair... I think so. I haven't spoken to him. I suppose this is someone you know?" She paused and then added, "So if you know he's here, why does it matter? There are a lot of people here, Freddie, I'm sure you can find someone to play chess with."
"It doesn't matter," Freddie answered, shaking his head. "I just wanted to be sure we were talking about the same person." And it didn't matter. Sergievsky being here didn't matter. They could ignore each other. They could keep away from each other. He knew that. If Maureen didn't know him, then her friend Roger didn't know him and Prior didn't know him and he would have his own circle of friends that had nothing to do with the Russian.
"Anything else you want to know about the island?" Maureen asked, edging a touch closer to him on the bed. "I'm quite the gossip, really."
"Whether you meant anything by putting me in your friend's ex's bed." He knew - no, he was almost sure - that she hadn't meant anything by it. "Or whether you meant anything by not suggesting yours."
Maureen lifted an eyebrow. Then finally she shrugged. "Maybe I wanted you close," she said, and then smiled. "But not too close. Can't a girl play hard to get?"
"Is that what we're playing? Hard to get?" Freddie grinned and leaned in and kissed her ever so lightly on her lips and then rolled away slowly. "I suppose I should get dressed, then."
Maureen wet her lips where he'd just kissed her. "Maybe how hard to get I'm really playing is dependent on what I'm wearing underneath this robe," she said.
Freddie froze. "And just how much are you wearing?"
"Now that's the question, isn't it?" Maureen played idly with the sash on her robe, twirling it around her finger and then holding it out to him. "Because whether you're playing hard to get depends on whether you want to find out, hmm?"
"Kindness of strangers," Freddie murmured to himself. He tugged her sash, pulling her closer. "Doesn't bother you that I look like your friend?"
"Roger isn't interested," Maureen said matter-of-factly. "And you apparently are. So no, it doesn't bother me. But then, I've had a lot of time to get used to it." She moved closer, happy to let him pull the robe open. She wasn't even naked underneath, though close. "Shouldn't the real question be whether it bothers you that I look like someone?"
"Of course it doesn't bother me," Freddie said, although he wasn't entirely sure that was true. He could still hear the whisper of the things Florence had said to him. He could still see the ghost of her standing with Sergievsky. Of course it didn't bother him. Why should it?
Maureen couldn't help but be curious about what his relationship was with this woman. Was he going to end up with some sort of 'I want to do to you all the things she wouldn't let me do to her?' moment... though thinking about it, that could actually be really fucking hot.
She suddenly hoped the woman had been a total prude.
The robe gaped open, revealing the black lace bra and panties underneath - certainly not sleepwear, and she thought more provocative than simply being naked. "Well if you're sure," she said innocently.
"Even if I weren't, I'm not sure that would stop you." He slid his hand along the outside of her thigh. "Tell me something." He tucked his finger into the waistline of her panties. "Did you come in here because you heard your roommate or because you were coming in to see me?" His fingers moved up to her stomach, stroking softly. This was easy. There were things that were different. A little more here, a little less there, but the same enough.
Maureen smiled and then let out a little sigh at his fingers against her skin. "I did hear you talking," she murmured. "Maybe I wanted to make sure you hadn't brought someone else home. I mean, I hear you chess masters move fast..."
"Very fast," Freddie agreed. "But I wouldn't sleep with someone else on your roommate's bed and, like you said, he's not fond enough of his ex to crawl in with me." His fingers moved up, teasing. "Which leaves us with you."
"In that case do we need to move to my bed?" Maureen teased, and reached out to drag one finger down his chest. The longer she spent with him the less he reminded her of Roger. Which when it came down to it was probably a good thing.
"Do we?" Freddie felt like he was in a game of chess and he was the king. Advance. Retreat. Capture. He just wasn't sure what 'winning' was in this metaphor. Sleeping with her with the memories of Florence still fresh in his mind or not and risk letting her know that he was uneasy? It was a delicate game he was playing.
A flash of inspiration hit and he pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. "Shame. If you already have foreknowledge of what chess masters are like, I wouldn't want to fall right into your expectations. I'll have to come up with a new gambit." His eyebrows lifted briefly in challenge and he held out a hand. "Breakfast?"
Maureen looked genuinely surprised for a moment, but then she covered it with a smile. She took his hand, making no move to cinch her robe back together. May as well give him something to ruminate over.
"Mmmm well who am I to tell a man what he's hungry for?" she said, and slid off of the bed, still holding his hand. "I can introduce you to the kitchen."
Freddie winked at her when she looked surprised. He knew exactly what he was doing - or he thought he did - and he wanted her to know it, too. Not that he was rejecting her, that he was teasing her. "Good. And if I can recognize anything in there, I'll cook you breakfast."
"Excellent," said Maureen. "I don't cook." She dropped his hand then and did cinch up her robe this time. "Best get dressed, then - bit of a walk to the compound. Oh, and I'll show you where you can get clothes, too."
"And a shower?" Freddie replied hopefully.
"And a shower," Maureen promised. "In fact, you have moved into one of the best neighborhoods on the island - we have our very own bathhouse." She smiled. "And all the prettiest people are here."
"Oh, Maureen. I think I might be in love." He hesitated just long enough to leave her wondering whether he meant her. "The bathhouse, of course."
Maureen snorted. "Just give it a couple of days before this all sinks in, and then you'll be missing the real luxuries of home. I hope you like mangos." She swept toward the door and added over her shoulder, "I'll just give you a minute to get dressed."
"Only a minute? I'd better take my time, then," he shot back. He turned his back on her and reached down for his clothes.
His dreams were troubled and he slept restlessly, but he did sleep. Through the night, his shirt came off in the face of the oppressive heat and by morning, he was only wearing his boxers.
In the face of his sleepless night, he should have woken up at the first hint of light, but he was still asleep, a hand strewn over his face, when the first signs of people awake in the hut began.
Prior had been spending most of his nights with Scotty these days, to the point where he was wondering if he shouldn't just 'officially' move in - but then, if Scotty wasn't going to bring it up, then he sure wasn't going to. In any case, it wasn't as if it was exactly inconvenient to go across the street when he needed to, and this morning he thought he'd grab some more clothes. And say hi to Maureen, since he was starting to feel like one of Those Friends, the ones that disappeared after getting a boyfriend.
Of course, he wasn't surprised when she was still asleep when he got there; he peeked into her room and saw her sprawled out in tangled sheets in some sort of lacy number, though at least she was alone. He padded across the hall to his own room then...
... and saw Roger naked in his bed.
"Fuck me!" he blurted, staring.
The voice woke him and he already knew that it wasn't Maureen's. Hadn't she mentioned having a roommate? The one whose bed he was in? "Maybe after another hour of sleep," he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. Not bothering to actually see who he was addressing. His mouth opened in a jaw-cracking yawn. "Or maybe two."
Speaking of not seeing who he was addressing... Prior's eyesight was not great. Even his glasses didn't help a whole hell of a lot, since part of the problem were the cotton woolly patches that just floated there in the field of his vision. The smart-ass response wasn't exactly doing anything to disavow him of the assumption that this was Roger, either.
Setting his mouth in a thin, straight line, he marched up to the bed and threw the blanket off of him. "Out," he snapped. "I don't know why you're trying to fuck with me now, but it's not going to work. You made it perfectly clear how you felt when you were a complete asshole to me, and what, now that I'm finally happy with someone else you've suddenly remembered that I give great blowjobs and you want back in my bed? No way. You had your chance, you fucked it up, and these lips are off-limits."
Freddie blinked blearily up at the man. "What in the hell are you talking about? I don't know you from Adam." He liked the idea of great blowjobs, but now probably wasn't the best time to mention it. Not when he was being kicked out of bed. "Maureen said I could stay here. You're the roommate, right? She said you wouldn't mind if I spent the night."
He wasn't sure he needed this first thing in the morning.
Now that Prior was closer to him, he got a better look at the man in his bed. He blinked, and took a step backward. "You're... not Roger," he said. For one thing, he wasn't as thin. He looked a hell of a lot like Roger, but that wasn't the body Prior had come to know so well.
Freddie groaned. "No, I'm not Roger." He should have listened to Maureen when she'd said that people would mistake him for another man. He just hadn't really...paid attention. "I'm Freddie. Freddie Trumper. New to the island."
Prior went a little pink. He ran a hand through his hair and blurted, "Maureen has the tact of a gnat sometimes." He cleared his throat. "Sorry for waking you. I just wasn't expecting someone with my ex's face to be in my bed. And it's not that I mind you using it... just would have been nice to have some warning. I'm Prior... Prior Walter. I just came to get some clothes..." He moved to a chest of drawers on the other side of the bed.
Freddie watched him through slitted eyes. "I really look that much like him, then?" And his doppleganger's ex? Was definitely a looker. "And of course Maureen would have known. I can see why you said gnat." He yawned slowly and stretched. "It's good to meet you, even if you weren't expecting me."
"Yeah..." Prior turned and looked at him. "Yeah, you really fucking do. Well, your hair's different. And he's thinner. And - " He quirked a smile. "He sure as hell wouldn't be in my bed. I suppose I should give Maureen credit for her self restraint in the fact that you're in here and not in there - " He blinked. "Oh, unless you're gay? Though I'm starting to think my boyfriend and I are the only queers on the island that aren't more toward the middle of the Kinsey scale."
Freddie laughed and rolled onto his stomach, not caring about the fact that he was almost naked. "Well, I would sleep with you and soon as I would her." He considered that and, with a wave of his hand, amended, "Actually, I'd sleep with you first, but only because she looks like someone I know back home." His memories of Florence were still too raw to really consider sleeping with Maureen. "But I'm more opportunistic than anything else."
Oh, he would just have to say that, wouldn't he. Prior very purposely brought an image of Scotty to his mind. And instantly felt a little calmer. He looked back at Freddie and smiled. "Well, you might not say that if you knew more about me. And from what I understand Maureen can be very persuasive." On the other hand, he wasn't sure how she'd feel about sleeping with someone who looked like Roger... oh, who was he kidding. She'd probably do it just to fuck with everyone.
He cleared his throat. "Well. Got my clothes. I should be going, leave you to your..." His eyes traveled almost involuntarily over Freddie's body. "Morning."
"Oh, I believe she is. I'm sleeping here, after all." Freddie spread his hand along his body, meaning the bed, but not voicing what, exactly, he meant. "If you ever need the bed, let me know. It is yours, after all, and I'm sure we can arrange something." Arrange what, he didn't say. He couldn't help liking the eyes on his body.
Prior wondered how long it would take Freddie to hear that he had AIDS. Might change that pretty quickly. He shifted his eyes away very purposely. "Well, my boyfriend lives across the street, so I'm not here much anymore. You're welcome to sleep here. I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." His voice dropped into a playful drawl at that last bit.
"How kind are we talking about here?" Freddie asked. "And which stranger?" This Prior was an interesting contradiction. From modest to flirting in two or three sentences. Definitely an interesting combination.
Prior lifted an eyebrow. "It's a line from a play," he said. "And I'm pretty sure I'm the kind stranger in this scenario." He offered Freddie a little smile and shifted the folded clothes under his arm.
"And any way I can repay that kindness," Freddie teased, "just let me know." He wasn't really planning on doing anything, but a little harmless flirting couldn't hurt anything. Especially when he didn't have anyone to argue with him. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that sounded particularly Russian that asked how what he was doing was any different than what Florence had done before he'd interrupted her little meeting with Sergievsky. It was different. Very different.
Luckily Prior didn't have much time to dwell on the completely weirdness of someone with Roger's face flirting with him - because Maureen chose that moment to appear in the open door. She was wearing the red silk robe that Prior had made for her (one of three, the other two going to Scotty and Jack), and her hair was pleasantly mussed from sleep. He imagined she was, what, fuckable, if he were into that sort of thing.
"Look who's sleeping in my bed, Mama Bear," he said dryly.
Maureen, who had rolled out of bed at the sound of voices, yawned a little, looking nonplussed. Her eyes drifted to Freddie then and there was a sudden obvious keen interest in them as they raked over his body in a way much more deliberate than Prior's gaze earlier.
"I see you've met," she said, looking back at Prior. "Um. Sorry for not... well, I was going to track you down today. What is it you always say about the kindness of strangers?"
"I was just asking about that." Freddie's eyes went back to Prior. "About how I can repay his kindness for taking his bed." He shifted his eyes to Maureen, eyes sliding slowly over her body. "Or yours. I don't suppose you have any ideas about how I can repay you, do you?" He knew that she did. Knew that she knew exactly what he was talking about.
Again, lucky for Prior, Freddie's shift in focus to something involving heterosexual sex was enough to kill anything on his end. "And on that note, I think I'll be going," he said. "Next time leave a note, okay?" he added to Maureen. "And if anyone shows up who looks like Louis, he's sleeping in your bed." Over his shoulder - "Nice meeting you." - to Freddie, and then he swept through the door and out of the hut.
Maureen took a step in then. "Sorry about that," she said. "He's right, I should have left a note. Though on the bright side, at least he and Roger are on bad terms. Otherwise he might have just crawled into bed with you."
"You make that sound like a bad thing," Freddie teased. "Were your ears burning? You missed our conversation about you." Not much of a conversation, but now that she was here, the conversation was definitely about her. His attention was definitely on her and you couldn't have pulled it away from her if you'd tried. Well, maybe one person could have, but he wasn't here.
"Sugar, someone's always talking about me," Maureen teased, and slid onto the edge of the bed. She swung one leg over the other so that the robe fell around it, revealing bare leg from mid-thigh down.
"Did you sleep well? I see you made yourself comfortable."
"Very. It's warm in here." Not that he planned on getting dressed just because she was here. "And I see you're making yourself comfortable. Are you staying if I decide to go back to sleep?"
"It's a tropical island," Maureen laughed, "it's always warm. And no, I suppose if you decide to go back to sleep, I'll just be on my merry way. Though it isn't exactly early."
"Sun, sand, and beautiful women." His lips twitched. "And you definitely know that you're beautiful." He couldn't help what happened next. He leaned over to her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Maybe he shouldn't have. No, he definitely shouldn't have, but he did anyway.
Maureen smiled at him and leaned a little closer. "And you're very charming. I don't think I've ever met a champion chess player who's quite so smooth."
"I can be very charming when I want to," Freddie murmured. "And how many champion chess players have you known in your life?"
"None," said Maureen easily. "Though in New York I knew a drag queen that liked to challenge old men to games in Central Park."
"Well, if she comes here, be sure to send her my way. Otherwise, I'll just have to settle for that...that..." Oh. Hell. "What did the person you were talking about, the one who played chess, look like?" It couldn't be.
Maureen shrugged. "I don't know... young, dark hair, fairly unremarkable." She snapped her fingers. "You know, I remember Jack carving a chess set for someone ages ago. He lives a couple of houses over, you could ask him who it was for."
Except there was one way to be pretty sure. He moved his hand to his neck. "Curly hair? About to hear? Russian accent if you heard him speak?"
Maureen wrinkled her nose, vaguely annoyed that the conversation had shifted so abruptly from better things, like for example, how beautiful she was. "Curly hair... I think so. I haven't spoken to him. I suppose this is someone you know?" She paused and then added, "So if you know he's here, why does it matter? There are a lot of people here, Freddie, I'm sure you can find someone to play chess with."
"It doesn't matter," Freddie answered, shaking his head. "I just wanted to be sure we were talking about the same person." And it didn't matter. Sergievsky being here didn't matter. They could ignore each other. They could keep away from each other. He knew that. If Maureen didn't know him, then her friend Roger didn't know him and Prior didn't know him and he would have his own circle of friends that had nothing to do with the Russian.
"Anything else you want to know about the island?" Maureen asked, edging a touch closer to him on the bed. "I'm quite the gossip, really."
"Whether you meant anything by putting me in your friend's ex's bed." He knew - no, he was almost sure - that she hadn't meant anything by it. "Or whether you meant anything by not suggesting yours."
Maureen lifted an eyebrow. Then finally she shrugged. "Maybe I wanted you close," she said, and then smiled. "But not too close. Can't a girl play hard to get?"
"Is that what we're playing? Hard to get?" Freddie grinned and leaned in and kissed her ever so lightly on her lips and then rolled away slowly. "I suppose I should get dressed, then."
Maureen wet her lips where he'd just kissed her. "Maybe how hard to get I'm really playing is dependent on what I'm wearing underneath this robe," she said.
Freddie froze. "And just how much are you wearing?"
"Now that's the question, isn't it?" Maureen played idly with the sash on her robe, twirling it around her finger and then holding it out to him. "Because whether you're playing hard to get depends on whether you want to find out, hmm?"
"Kindness of strangers," Freddie murmured to himself. He tugged her sash, pulling her closer. "Doesn't bother you that I look like your friend?"
"Roger isn't interested," Maureen said matter-of-factly. "And you apparently are. So no, it doesn't bother me. But then, I've had a lot of time to get used to it." She moved closer, happy to let him pull the robe open. She wasn't even naked underneath, though close. "Shouldn't the real question be whether it bothers you that I look like someone?"
"Of course it doesn't bother me," Freddie said, although he wasn't entirely sure that was true. He could still hear the whisper of the things Florence had said to him. He could still see the ghost of her standing with Sergievsky. Of course it didn't bother him. Why should it?
Maureen couldn't help but be curious about what his relationship was with this woman. Was he going to end up with some sort of 'I want to do to you all the things she wouldn't let me do to her?' moment... though thinking about it, that could actually be really fucking hot.
She suddenly hoped the woman had been a total prude.
The robe gaped open, revealing the black lace bra and panties underneath - certainly not sleepwear, and she thought more provocative than simply being naked. "Well if you're sure," she said innocently.
"Even if I weren't, I'm not sure that would stop you." He slid his hand along the outside of her thigh. "Tell me something." He tucked his finger into the waistline of her panties. "Did you come in here because you heard your roommate or because you were coming in to see me?" His fingers moved up to her stomach, stroking softly. This was easy. There were things that were different. A little more here, a little less there, but the same enough.
Maureen smiled and then let out a little sigh at his fingers against her skin. "I did hear you talking," she murmured. "Maybe I wanted to make sure you hadn't brought someone else home. I mean, I hear you chess masters move fast..."
"Very fast," Freddie agreed. "But I wouldn't sleep with someone else on your roommate's bed and, like you said, he's not fond enough of his ex to crawl in with me." His fingers moved up, teasing. "Which leaves us with you."
"In that case do we need to move to my bed?" Maureen teased, and reached out to drag one finger down his chest. The longer she spent with him the less he reminded her of Roger. Which when it came down to it was probably a good thing.
"Do we?" Freddie felt like he was in a game of chess and he was the king. Advance. Retreat. Capture. He just wasn't sure what 'winning' was in this metaphor. Sleeping with her with the memories of Florence still fresh in his mind or not and risk letting her know that he was uneasy? It was a delicate game he was playing.
A flash of inspiration hit and he pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. "Shame. If you already have foreknowledge of what chess masters are like, I wouldn't want to fall right into your expectations. I'll have to come up with a new gambit." His eyebrows lifted briefly in challenge and he held out a hand. "Breakfast?"
Maureen looked genuinely surprised for a moment, but then she covered it with a smile. She took his hand, making no move to cinch her robe back together. May as well give him something to ruminate over.
"Mmmm well who am I to tell a man what he's hungry for?" she said, and slid off of the bed, still holding his hand. "I can introduce you to the kitchen."
Freddie winked at her when she looked surprised. He knew exactly what he was doing - or he thought he did - and he wanted her to know it, too. Not that he was rejecting her, that he was teasing her. "Good. And if I can recognize anything in there, I'll cook you breakfast."
"Excellent," said Maureen. "I don't cook." She dropped his hand then and did cinch up her robe this time. "Best get dressed, then - bit of a walk to the compound. Oh, and I'll show you where you can get clothes, too."
"And a shower?" Freddie replied hopefully.
"And a shower," Maureen promised. "In fact, you have moved into one of the best neighborhoods on the island - we have our very own bathhouse." She smiled. "And all the prettiest people are here."
"Oh, Maureen. I think I might be in love." He hesitated just long enough to leave her wondering whether he meant her. "The bathhouse, of course."
Maureen snorted. "Just give it a couple of days before this all sinks in, and then you'll be missing the real luxuries of home. I hope you like mangos." She swept toward the door and added over her shoulder, "I'll just give you a minute to get dressed."
"Only a minute? I'd better take my time, then," he shot back. He turned his back on her and reached down for his clothes.
