Deiu*
Spring Nicht
Joined: 06 May 2006
Posts: 2591
Location: Konstantenburg... cu Tom peaicea, chinuim ciutanii =)) |
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 ..``Never Knew The Meaning``.. one'chater'fiqqy gigant (+16) |
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So... cum sa va spun eu.. asta vroia sa fie un one'chapter'fiqqy... dar e imposibil. E gigant. Asha k l'am impartit. Il am deja pe tot scris, dar decat sa'l pun pe tot, mai bine il impart in vreo 3 4 capitole... e mai ushor de citit...
Sper sa va placa... cand ma apuca sa scriu one'chapter'fiqqy's ma apuca in engleza, deci succes.
A si ink ceva. ComponentÄ asta e super clean. Partea urmatoare o sa fie... heavy. Deci... explicit content. Very explicit content. Si sfatuiesc pe cine shtie k sta prost cu inima sa nu citeasca. P bune. Eh da' asta e valabil la porÈiunea 2..
Enjoy si.. nha... sper sa va placa la fel de mult ca celalalt... 
Never Knew The Meaning
Paris sure was different during Christmas. Still very, very beautiful (if you don’t count the horrendous snowstorm), but different. The only times Tom Kaulitz ever came there was during summer, when he did a Promo Photoshooting with the band, or by himself, like now, and there was none of the usual sunshine or heat right now. Christmas was just a few days away. Christmas songs, sang in both English and French, were playing over the radio, lights were blinking in and out of existence on the streets below him. People who dared to walk the streets had their heads bowed against the harsh winds and snow falling down from the sky. Tom was safely and sanely tucked away in his warm hotel room, waiting for the storm to pass.
With a smile gracing his lips he turned away from the window and walked over to the sitting area of his suite. He sat down in the plush chair and picked up the remote control from the table next to it. One click on the remote and the TV flickered on. The weather forecast was on and he just caught the last bit of what the lady was saying. With a grunt and a motion of his hand, he clicked the TV off again.
His plane was supposed to leave tonight, but someone high above had other plans. The snowstorm would increase today, stay the same tomorrow and wouldn’t calm down until the day after tomorrow. He was stuck in Paris until then, with no one to keep him company. He would be lucky to even get home on Christmas Eve.
Twisting his face into a grimace, he picked up his cell phone and speed dialed his mum’s number. After three rings, she picked up. “Hello?”
“Mum, it’s me,” he said.
“Tom, dear, I saw it on the news. Is it really that bad?” she asked.
With a sigh, scratching his eyes, Tom answered, “Yes, mum. It’s a blizzard out there. They’re advising people not to go out at all, and the planes won’t fly until the day after tomorrow.” He sighed again. “I won’t be on time to see Paul and Terry.”
He heard his mum sigh on the other end. “Aw, dear. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind staying until you’re here.”
“No, mum. They need to be with their families on Christmas. I’m not even sure I can make it to be out there by Christmas Eve.”
“Well, that is sad news. I hope you will be here by then.”
“Me too, mum. Me too.” On the other end of the line, Tom heard the doorbell ring. “You go get that, mum. I’ll call you again when I know more.”
“Alright, dear. Now you keep warm, you hear? Don’t venture out into that snow.”
Tom chuckled. “Alright, mum. Say hi to Bill, will you?”
“I will. Bye, dear.”
He hung up with a smile around his lips. He could always count on his mum to make him feel better. As he set the phone down on the arm of the chair, silence settled in around him and he realized that he would be spending two days in this hotel room, all alone and confined. Normally he could go out and explore the city, but with this kind of weather that seemed very stupid.
The more he thought about it, the more claustrophobic he started to feel. He could almost see the walls closing in on him. “Fuck this..” he mumbled and got up out of the chair. On his way to the door, he grabbed the keycard out of the lightslot and shot out of the room.
He already felt better when he walked through the hallway. His breathing returned to natural and his heartbeat started to slow down to its normal pace. When he reached the elevator, he was feeling a lot calmer. Now, usually he didn’t freak out like this. There were times that he would love to just spend entire days in his room, do nothing but read, watch TV or do something else that did not relate to work. Today though, he needed to do something. He needed to be around people. Maybe it was the prospect of not being able to step outside and admire the snow, hear it crunching underneath his feet as he stepped on it.
He shivered in excited anticipation and a goofy grin formed on his face. His face lit up with the idea of walking through the snow, feeling it land on his bare skin, tickling and cold, but so good. He really couldn’t wait now and bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for the elevator to arrive. Not a second later the elevator arrived on his floor with a ding.
Stepping into the elevator, he only glanced at the other people inside and waited impatiently for the ride down to the lobby. He was on the tenth floor so it would take a while, which was too long for him. When they stopped on the sixth floor and the doors slid open, he wanted to run out of the small cubicle and use the stairs, but a voice stopped him.
The young girl that entered the elevator spoke in a hushed voice in a foreign language, but the impatience in it was evident to him. As the doors slid closed again and they continued their descent, he tried not to eavesdrop, but as she stood next to him, he couldn’t help but hear what she was saying. Of course he couldn’t understand it, but still. He also tried not to stare to much at her veeery low-waisted broked jeans, and her delicate negru shirt, and her thin white neck most of it covered in a verry big and fluffy scarf, also black, that worked wonderfully with her medium just-a-little curly dark brunette hair. He finally turned his head the other way, while bending on his shoulder and putting his hands into his extra'large jens.
After a long pause on her end, the girl made an exasperated sound low in her throat and said louder than before, “Oh shit, fuck it!” She then continued on in her language, but that tiny sentence in English made him chuckle. He couldn’t help himself.
When the elevator finally reached the lobby, he let everyone get out before him and then slowly made his way toward the doors leading to the street. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t brought a coat. He was not going to risk getting sick, so he had to stay inside. But the snow looked so tempting. The snow on the ground, that is. The snow falling from the sky made the appeal less beautiful.
With a roll of his eyes he turned back around, grabed his cap like he always does, and started toward the elevator when his eye fell on the doors leading into the bar. He glanced from the doors to the elevator, contemplating what he wanted to do most. Like you don't know him... OFF COURSE he decided that, since he was already down here anyway, he’d go to the bar. He turned a sharp left mere feet away from the elevator and walked towards the doors.
He used both hands to open both doors at the same time, making a big entrance, and quickly scanned the darkened room for an empty seat somewhere. He only spotted one at the bar, opposite the entrance, next to the girl from the elevator. The place was surely packed. Almost every person that was checked in at the hotel had sought their refuge in the darkened yet festive bar.
On every corner of the actual bar stood miniature Christmas trees and a large one, completely decked out in reds and golds, stood in the far right corner. He smiled as his eye fell on a mistletoe right above the entrance that led to the bathrooms. Whoever had come up with that had a twisted sense of humour.
He slid onto the stool next to the woman and noticed that she was now writing fervently in a notebook. She had a glass of what looked like Pepsi sitting in front of her and a cigarette burning in the ashtray. The bartender sidled over to him and nodded his head. Tom smiled back at him.
“Monsieur?” the bartender asked him.
“Remy Martin, s’il vous plait,” he answered and with another nod of his head, the bartender got the drink. Two seconds later his cognac was placed in front of him and Tom told the man to put it on his room.
He took a sip and let the warmth of the drink slide down his throat and into his abdomen. It warmed him immediately from head to toe, even better than hot chocolate could do. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and when he turned his head, he saw the girl almost knocking over her glass; she was engrossed into what she was writing. Reflex took over and he held the glass up before it could fall over and spill out all over the bar.
The woman looked up and her eyes grew big. “Oh, merde. Merci, monsieur.”
“C’est rien, mademoiselle,” he smiled at her.
She nodded her head at him and focused her attention back on the pad of paper on the bar. He smiled and returned his attention to the room around him. People were filling up the booths, tables and bar, all smiling and talking to each other. Older couples at the tables chatted merrily while they drank wine, newer couples sat holding hands in the booths. Suddenly, he felt very alone.
Feeling bold, he leaned a bit closer to the girl next to him and asked in fluent French, “What are you writing?”
The girl looked up from the paper and blinked at him. “Pardon?” she asked in French. He repeated his question, thinking she hadn’t heard him right. When she blinked at him again, he could see a blush rising on her cheeks. She bit her lower lip and shrugged. In fluent French, she told him, “I don’t speak French.”
Tom laughed. She had said it perfectly, in Ăźmplinit French with a magistral accent, yet what she was telling him was that she didn’t. He calmed himself down when he saw her watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Eh..Entschuldigung..” he said in german. Now she looked even more puzzeled. He sighted “Never mind..”.
“Ah, English. Now that’s a language I can manage,” she smiled at him. “So what did you ask me?”
Now it was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. She sounded very American. “I asked what you were writing,” he told her.
She looked down at the paper she was writing on. “Oh, this?” she asked and waved the pad above the bar. He nodded. “Work administrations. Or something like that, anyway. Boring stuff, really.”
He glanced around him and then looked at her. “And you do this in a bar?”
She chuckled. “I needed people around me. The room was becoming to be a prison. I needed out.”
He took a sip of his cognac and nodded. “I can relate to that. It’s the same reason why I’m down here as well.”
“Stuck in Paris because of a snowstorm. Can you believe it?” she smiled at him.
“Honestly, no. I knew it could snow here, but an actual snowstorm? No.”
“I know. And to top it all of I’m all alone here. This was supposed to be a business trip of two days yet I’ll have to stay here for two more. My boss isn’t too happy.”
“Plus, Christmas is only a few days away. I want to be home by then. Preferably before then,” he said as he watched her close the notepad and put it back in her bag.
She didn’t look at him when she said, crossing her fragille hair over her little ears“Yeah, well, if you have something to look forward to I can understand that.” She looked up at him and he could see her face twisting from a sad expression to an almost honest smile. “So,” she said and extended her hand. “I’m Sophie Forester.”
He took hold of her hand and smiled. “Tom Kaulitz.”
She bit her lower lip and tilted her head at him. “Can I make a confession?” she asked.
“As long as it’s not about the murder you just commited,” he joked.
She laughed. “I know who you are,” she spilled. “Tom Kaulitz, the chitarist from the famous Tokio Hotel band..” She looked down shyly and grinned at him. “I just thought I’d be nice, which is a change for me, and introduce myself.”
Tom chuckled. “So you probably know more about me than I do about you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself so we can be even?”
Sophie’s grin widened. “You want my life story?” she snorted. “Trust me, boring as hell.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” he returned with a grin.
She raised a perfecly shaped eyebrow at him. “I don’t know if I can trust your judgment. For all I know you get your kicks out of disecting frogs which, hey, gross.” She made a face.
Tom laughed loudly. “Alright, twenty questions then? Is that alright with you?”
Sophie seemed to think about it, raising a manicured fingernail to her bottom lip. Then a spark appeared in her eyes and she grinned. “Only if I can return the favor.”
He bowed his head. “Of course. It would be only fair. First question.”
She raised a hand. “Wait. Before you do and before we start playing, what can I get you?”
“Sorry?”
She snickered. “A drink. What can I get you?”
“Oh, that’s alright,” he said as he glanced at his empty glass. He hadn’t even realized that he had finished it already.
“No, no. Please. You saved me from knocking over my drink. Instead of the knight getting the girl, the knight gets a drink to warm him after his treck through the cold streets.”
“Who says I won’t get the girl?” he teased her with a warm look in his eyes. He could see the blush again creeping over her cheeks and laughed. “I’m just teasing, love.” he said as he placed a hand on her knee.
“Right,” she breathed and turned to the bartender. She motioned him over and ordered a Remy Martin for him and a rum and coke for her. Extra rum. He had to chuckle again.
“What’s funny?” she asked when she saw him stifle a laugh.
“Extra rum?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Stress reliever and liquid sleeping pill. Which is exactly what I need.” She smiled at the bartender as he set their drinks down. She gave the man 15 euros, giving him a tip of 4. Quite a generous tip when you compared it to the other people in the bar.
“Now we can play,” she said as she took a sip of her drink. She grimaced slightly then took another sip.
“Alright. Question number one. Where are you from?”
Sophie gulped down the brown liquid as he took a sip of his. “Queenstown. New Zeeland.” Upon seeing his shocked look, she laughed. “I know, I know. I sound American. That’s what you get from hanging around Americans all the time.”
“The Zeeland people I’ve met so far all had these accents that gave them away. You don’t have an accent at all,” he said, kind of in awe.
She shrugged. “My American is better than yours was in RTL.” Her tongue slipped out from between her lips and his eyes grew wide.
“Are you mocking me?” he asked with a smile playing around his lips.
“That’s question two and the answer is yes,” she grinned.
“Damn,” he mumbled, thinking this could be an interesting night. “Okay, third question. How old are you?”
“17.”
“What do you do when you’re not talking to strange men in Parisian bars?”
She laughed and set down her already half empty glass. “During the day I’m a student and I’ll save you a question by saying that I’m studying to be an archeologist. At night I work as a club manager.”
“Really? That’s fascinating. Why archeologist?” he inquired.
She shrugged. “I love the ancient myths and stories. If I can go to a dig and find some relic from God knows when, that’s when I can learn more. About then, about now and about the future. I’m all about the learning.”
“And a club manager?”
She nodded. “It started out as a favor for my uncle who owns the club. That was 4 years ago. I’ve only been the manager officially for two years. But I love it. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes. When don’t you like it?”
“When I’m stuck in Paris because of a freak snowstorm. I swear, the world is going crazy. Next thing you know winter will become summer, summer will become winter and I won’t be able to celebrate my birthday on the beach again.” She pouted which made him laugh.
“So you’re a summer child?”
“Born in August, actually. Starsign Leo, crossed with Aquarius. Lethal combination.”
“Interested in astrology, are you?”
“Yeah. You’re really wasting your questions, you know. I mean, for the first question you could’ve asked me to come up to your room and I would’ve said yes.” She looked at him from over the rim of her glass and smirked at him.
Tom licked his lips as he watched her swallow the last bit of her drink. “Maybe I’d like to take things slow,” he said as he beckoned the bartender over and motioned to him to refill their drinks. “So, Sophie,” he breathed as he moved his stool closer to hers. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
He could almost feel the heat radiating off her body. And now that he was sitting closer, he could smell the scent of her perfume. He couldn’t exactly put a name to it, but it smelled good.
“No, I don’t. Don’t want one either.”
“Uh huh,” he said, distracted by her smell. “What’s that perfume you’re wearing?”
Sophie giggled into her new glass of rum and coke. “Angel. Liv Tyler.”
Intentionally he moved off the stool and almost buried his face in her medium cropped dark brown hair. He took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of her. It was either that or the alcohol that made him feel woozy. He quickly sat down on his stool again.
“Why don’t you want a boyfriend?”
Sophie shrugged. “What are men good for, really?”
“If you find the right guy, very good sex.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I can spot those guys miles away,” she hiccuped.
“I’m sitting mere inches away,” he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.
She made a sound that sounded very much like a buzzer. “Sorry pal, that’s not a question. Try rephrasing it.”
He rolled his eyes, took a long sip of his cognac and thought about how to make it a question. When he had swallowed, he spotted an empty booth just a few feet away. He grabbed Sophie’s hand, dragged her off her stool and to the booth. He plopped down and made Kelley fall down on top of him. She giggled and tried to get off of him. He held her where she was and looked up into her eyes. They were, as he could now see clearly, hazel.
“I’m holding you in my arms right now. Is that close enough for you to see how good I would be in bed?”
Sophie gulped. She stared into his eyes, but his eyes strayed to her mouth. She bit her lower lip and then her tongue snuck out to lick the nicked skin. He suddenly had the very intense urge to do that same thing himself.
“Um,” she stammered, “I’m kind of uncomfortable here. Can you let me up?”
He let her go, even though reluctantly. She’d felt good in his arms. Very good. Or maybe that were just his hormones acting up. He hadn’t had sex since he and Annabel had broken up a month ago. It had been mutual, their relationship had become a drag and he was glad to be a free man again. Luckily, the press hadn’t gotten ahold of it yet. For now he could still pretend that he had someone to be faithful to. Right now, though, as he looked at Sophie moving opposite him, he was starting to wonder if he really wanted that image.
Sophie downed the last half of her drink in record time and set it down with a bang. She looked into his eyes. “If you want me to be coherent for me to answer your questions, you won’t do that again. Very bad for my health.”
Tom chuckled as he raised his own glass to his lips. “Whatever you want, love.”
Even in the dark he could see her skin getting darker. He loved teasing her just to see that blush. It made her less hard than she seemed. She had a tough exterior, something he’d love to break down just so he could see what was underneath. The same went for the tight black shirt she was wearing.
He placed his empty glass on the table and motioned the waitress over. “What’s your favorite movie?” he continued playing the game.
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They're playing love songs on the radio. I can't relate to that right now.. See, my life has it's ups and downs, it's high points and low points.
And right now I need some excitement.
...I might even [need you]... |
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