It was well after seven. I had already showered and dressed, taking great care not to awaken Claude. Poor baby! He usually doesn't sleep long past sun-up; he really needed the rest. There was no need to prepare breakfast until he got up. So I tip-toed downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. Hmmm...Maybe I should start some of the morning meal. I thought again, as I rifled through the fridge. That's it! I'll fix him one of those down-home Saturday morning breakfasts. Country ham, grits, fried apples, hot biscuits...Yummy!


The first time I fixed Claude such a breakfast was after that first night...I still reel from the memory. Well...I DID promise him I'd cook for him and when he sat down to that feast he said, "My dear, I usually don't eat this much in the morning. It all looks wonderfully delicious, but...oh well, since you went to all this trouble, I simply CAN'T refuse."
"You better not refuse, Claude Frollo. I got up extra early to cook all this food. Besides, you'll need re-fueling after last night...," I playfully scolded him.
He just smiled and replied teasingly, "...last night's 'activities'? Yes, all and...umm...singing so many love songs can be somewhat...draining."
With that, Claude and I burst into laughter and shared a hearty meal. It was to be the beginning of a very special relationship.


My mind was jarred back to the present when I heard Claude come downstairs. Our breakfast was nearly ready as I poured coffee when he entered the kitchen. He was fully dressed, not in his casual medieval attire, but a modern ensemble of tight black jeans, a black and purple silk shirt, and black boots. He looked fantastic! Oh yes, I thought, black is definitely his color, really highlights his coloring and form, so tall and slender, graceful and elegant. Claude took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly.
"Good Morning, my darling Nisha."
"Morning, baby. I thought you'd sleep later. Glad I fixed breakfast early." I returned the kiss and finished preparing our meal.
Claude sat at the table, sipped his coffee, and gazed at me. "Actually, I hadn't intended to sleep this late. But if my body needed the extra rest..." He stopped himself as he continued to stare at me. "Oh dear, you look exceedingly becoming this morning. I like the outfit, the way it fits, the colors."
He was commenting on my casual attire of purple jeans, black and purple sweater, and black suede shoes. My hair was loosely tied back with a purple ribbon and my ears sported over-sized silver hoops. I hadn't planned on us being near-twins today, but how was I to know we were going to wear the same colors? Pure coincidence...
Claude smiled at me as I set his breakfast before him. "Your hair was longer, full of waves and curls. Not that I don't find your current straight style more attractive. You were wearing a long dress", he began, "a riotous mix of colors. It followed your curves and I do believe there was a looked utterly delicious."
He began eating as I responded, grinning, "Slit on the side clean past the knee. I saw you trying to get a better look. Too bad we didn't click right away."
Smiling broadly as he buttered a biscuit, Claude said, "Oh Danisha, I fell for you the moment I saw you. Your beauty charmed my eye, my sweetness, but the beast within was a bit hard to take."
Immersed in memories, Claude Frollo and I enjoyed our breakfast, and engaged in a lively conversation of how it all began.


My initial arrival in Paris was a blast. Literally.
My old friend and mentor, Fern, had asked me to accompany her on a 'special' summer trip. I had nothing special planned that summer, and since Fern had hit the lottery and won all that lovely money, I felt, hey, maybe she's taking me some place really classy AND expensive. My bubble almost burst when I found myself riding in a 1959 Chevy Impala, jet black, all fully restored and equipped with a curious device that Fern said was a 'surprise'. So, we're driving down this deserted country road. I thought we were lost, but Fern said she needed the room and, besides, "I don't need no audience."
Room? No audience? "What in talking about, Fern?"
My questions were soon answered as Fern floored the accelerator and shouted, "Hold on and shield your peepers!"
The last thing I remember was a bright, white light and a weird, whirring sound. When I opened my eyes, we were traveling down a narrow dirt road.
"Where are we?" I asked, now confused and bewildered. "Welcome to Paris, er, make that medieval Paris", Fern announced proudly, adding, "I'll explain later."


I finished clearing away the remains of breakfast as Claude refilled our coffee cups. I continued to reminisce as we moved to the backyard deck. Claude admired my backyard garden with its fall flowers and leaves just beginning to peak. It was a beautiful fall morning, not too warm, but not cold.
"You know, Claude", I began, "I really thought I was dreaming. I thought it was all just another crazy heat-induced fantasy. Boy, was I wrong. It was all so REAL!"
Claude reached out and held my hand. "My darling, I'm so glad you accepted Fern's invitation. I'm also glad you decided to stay in Paris after that unfortunate incident. Otherwise, I would not be here reveling in your breath-taking beauty." I was so moved by what he said, that I felt like crying. Claude sensed my mood and put his arm around me.
"Fern left just before that episode. Honestly, baby, if I wasn't for Quasi and the kids, I would've been long gone. When that ball went sailing through your window..."
Claude Frollo kissed my lips, a nice, long kiss, "I'll never forget your apologies, my love. Nor will I forget...what happened...afterwards."
I definitely remembered what happened afterwards. And Claude was right; I almost left Paris for good after the 'incident', as we now call it. ...And come to think of it, it was so petty, so stupid...

We sat on a bench beneath a tall old oak. Claude held me close, whispered "I love you" in my ear, and kissed me so tenderly. He's always so patient and sweet with me, well, most of the time. But it sure didn't start out that way.

To Chapter 8!

Copyright©September 1997 by FrolloFreak.

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