"Where are we going for dinner?"
"Somewhere special. My home. I also owe you the tour I promised you yesterday."
"Uh-ha? You are cooking?" she asked playfully.
"Of course. I am a very good cook."
"Really? That's for me to decide." She wagged her eyebrows at him.
"Of course, my lady." He owed mockingly and led her to the car.
He was a good cook. Sitting in his wide open plan kitchen which had a stylish and modern décor in white and beige and a huge refrigerator which was very well stocked, she admired his fluid movements as he capered about preparing dinner. He really was gorgeous. The combination of red hair and blue eyes set off the perfection of his pale skin quite spectacularly. He always used a fruity lip balm, giving that particular sheen to his lips that she always noticed in his close ups. She smiled a little. How strange it felt. Only a few weeks ago, she had been sitting in a tiny cubicle drooling over his photo, thousands of miles away from him and here she was now!
He was a fabulous kisser. The media had got that right. Also, he really was a decent and down-to-earth guy. And his love for adventure sports was in epic proportions. Half of any conversation has been dominated by it. Most of the time she hadn't understood what he was saying, but had loved to just listen to the melodic rise and fall of his voice, with that queer accent lending that attractiveness to his speech that he was so famous for. The accent was more pronounced now than it was a day ago, she noticed. He was also laughing lot more than he was yesterday.
With her heart in her eyes, she followed the movements of his long fingers as he chopped up vegetables for salad. She had offered to help but he had shut her up with another scorching kiss. He had declared loftily that he was more than capable of doing the 'domestic bit' and had laid the table as well.
As they sat down to dinner, he asked her about her family. What she aspired to be? What had been her jobs till then? About her boyfriends. And she had found that it was surprisingly easy to talk to him. She had found that he could empathize with her and many a times before she had explained the reasons of some her actions that even Meena had not understood.
After dinner, she went out to the dimly lit porch. It was cold but Idril felt snug inside the huge overcoat Feanor had lent her. There are no fireflies here, she thought absently. She had always loved to see the night sky get lit by hundreds of tiny fireflies back home.
Feanor came from behind and brushed his lips lightly on her exposed nape. She reacted involuntarily by snuggling closer to him and giving him better access. He took it, and spreading light kisses on her smooth fragrant skin, making his way gradually upwards. He gathered her up to him as he reached her face. He touched her face everywhere except her lips. The growing heat in the pit of her stomach made her body arch towards him and she stood on her tip toe and taking him by his ears, adjusted his aim to her lips. He held back, playfully denying her what she wanted. Not until he dragged a moan from her full of her yearning for him, did he acquiesce.
Fingers lost in his silky red curls with the drugging hot kiss making her head spin, she was completely lost in the turbulence of passion that engulfed her. His hands came round her and desperately she curved herself even closer. But it didn't seem enough for either of them. He lifted her up so she was straddling him; he sat himself down in the chair she had vacated, his hands roaming all over her back. Eager, she scooted closer to him, deepening the kiss.
They were both so lost in each other that she didn't at first register her mobile phone ringing. But he did and gently broke the kiss. He reached over and taking it from the table handed to her. Dazedly, she saw that Imogen was calling. Her hands perceptively shaking she accepted the call. Imogen was calling to remind her that the flight was at eleven in the morning. Blushing, Idril ensured her that she would be there. So, Imogen didn't expect her to be back at hotel anymore. No doubt, all the members of her crew had noticed this and were thinking the same as well?
"You're definitely coming back?" Imogen persisted. "Because you've got your passport here at the hotel."
"Yes Imogen. I will be there." Idril assured her, trying to keep her voice down so Feanor wouldn't hear her. "In any case, I am sending you Feanor's phone number via sms. If you can't connect to my cell, call his." She finished her call.
Face flaming imaging the talk that must be going on behind her back among the other crew member, she sat down in the other chair.
"What are you thinking of?" Feanor enquired.