To Love A Swamp Rat

He heard her heels on the stairs, and turned to look. A less jaded man than Remy would have had a hard-on on the spot, and as it was, he had to struggle to control himself. Marie was stunning, simply put. Her white-streaked hair hung loose around her face, and she wore a sleeveless, emerald green dress with white opera gloves. The hemline was short, making her legs seem to go on forever. Her feet were clad in black pumps that tapped out the rhythm of her steps as she made her way to him.

Remy cleaned up pretty well himself, she saw. She ached to touch him, tear off his snappy pinstripe suit and ride him right there in the middle of the mansion lobby. But this was the real deal, and following her urges would kill him, trap his being inside her head.

To him, that didn't seem like such a bad deal. But that wasn't quite what he had in mind when he dreamt of being inside her. Remy smiled charmingly as he took her hand and kissed it. "Cher, you lookin' tres belle tonight. Course, it be hard for you t' do otherwise."

Marie grinned back at him. "You don't look too bad yourself... for a swamp rat," she teased. "So, where are we goin? You only said to dress really nahce."

He smirked. "It a surprise, petit. Just wait til we get dere, non?" He escorted her out to the car; he was borrowing Scott's red convertible for the evening. To Marie's surprise, he took her straight to Broadway, and produced two tickets to a production of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.

They were prime seats, too, and the pair settled in to enjoy the play. It was easy to see why he had chosen this particular one. The main characters, Beatrice and Benedick, sniped at each other in an eerily familiar way. Remy and Marie held hands as the plot unfolded and the stubborn man and woman were finally tricked into admitting their feelings for each other.

The surprise continued when Remy took her to Tavern on the Green. Marie was sure he couldn't have a reservation on such notice, but she also had a good idea how he was going to get them a table anyway.

"Name?" asked the maitre'd.

"Remy LeBeau, mon ami."

"I'm sorry, sir, you don't have a reservation."

Remy leaned in, smiling amiably. "True, homme, but surely you've had a cancellation Remy can take. You see, I been tryin' t' take this beautiful lady out for years, and she finally said yes, so I wanna show her a good time, non? Can't ya help a man out?" His red-on-black eyes twinkled as he used his minor hypnotic power to gain the other man's trust.

The maitre'd lowered his voice. "Well, don't tell anyone, but I do have one table you can have. Follow me, please." He snagged a pair of menus and led them to their table.

Remy pulled out Marie's chair for her. "Mademoiselle."

She shook her head as she sat. "You are somethin' else, Remy."

He grinned.

"And what's so funny?" she asked.

"You used Remy's name, petit. Not 'Cajun', not 'swamp rat', but Remy." He winked at her. "First time on de date you done dat."

She sighed. "Don't read too much into it, Cajun."

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Dinner was wonderful, though both Remy and Marie felt their desire for each other rising. Marie fidgeted in the car on the way back to the mansion, and dashed inside the moment Remy parked. He watched her go, chuckling to himself. "Not even a goodnight kiss, cher? Gonna hafta do somet'in' about dat." Knowing exactly where she was headed, he took a shortcut.