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 that...er...poetry-reading 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 Danisha...my 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 slit...mmm...you 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
the...you 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.
Copyright©September 1997 by FrolloFreak.