You Say Second Chances, I Hear Happy Endings: Part Three
Rating: Hard R / NC-17. There are scenes of a sexual nature in this chapter. Please only read if you are of age.
Characters: Nate/Jenny
Summary: Nate Archibald left New York and everyone in it behind years ago. He doesn't miss it. So why does he still dream about it?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plots and themes are property of the creators of the TV show Gossip Girl. They do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from the writing and posting of this story.
[three]
Nate does not dream for three weeks. He doesn't miss it.
When awake, he sees life in technicolor.
It's edging towards five o' clock and the sun starts its slow decent. Nate is wearing a beige trench coat, the collar pulled high around his neck, dark sunglasses shading his eyes from the distant sun. He feel ridiculous and, frankly, a little embarrassed, but at the same time exhilarated.
The teenage boy beside the ticket booth looks mildly curious at his appearance, and understandably so: Nate looks like a flasher. In the midst of a busy carnival full of hundreds of people - many of them children doing a half-run-half-skip and licking their pink cotton candy, and many of them small enough to fit under his uncomfortably long coat. He's already counted five mothers pull their young children a little closer and give him contemptuous looks.
He wanted to raise his hands and say, I'm not a pervert, honest! But then he couldn't exactly follow up with, I'm just trying to conduct an affair with a married woman who doesn't want to be seen in public with me…
"Did you get the package?" Nate says, moving his lips as little as possible, staring straight ahead.
The boy's eyebrows furrow. "The ticket, you mean? Yeah, here it is," he produces the token with not even an attempt or nod at subterfuge. "Where's my 20 bucks?"
Nate rolls his eyes and turns to face the boy fully. Kids, these days, he thinks. None of them had any subtlety.
"Here," he says, pushing the bill into the boys direction, "take it. When's the ride start?"
"This one's going now. You just line up over there."
Nate looks over and spots Jenny at the front of the line, ready to step into the carriage.
She is similarly dressed in a trench coat, but a short black one that bares her shapely legs, slim calves and stiletto heels. Her hair is long, messy and bright red, and she has thick blue liner around her eyes, reminding him of that phase she had in high school. Her disguise is good - he doubts that with those legs and that hair, anybody would be looking closely at her face.
"I don't have a partner," he can hear her tell the ride attendant.
"Anybody else going up alone?"
"I am," Nate calls, handing the ticket the attendant and climbing into the small space next to Jenny. "Thanks."
Jenny barely looks at him as the ride starts. When their carriage finally reaches mid-air against the now-dark sky, he turns to her and sheds his coat in the same motion, leaving a black button-down shirt and jeans. "I feel like a flasher," he jokes. "But I'm surprised you didn't get arrested. No offence, but you look like a hooker."
"Oh, Officer," she says sultrily. "Do you need to search me?"
His gaze falls on the small gape in the front of her coat. Up this high, their only light is from the moon and the stars. He can barely make out the valley between her breasts and a hint of lace.
"Oh, yes," he says, mouth slightly dry. "I think I will have to do that."
"I'm don't have anything on me, Officer," she whispers, quickly abandoning the seducer for the ingenue caught up in a bad situation. "Honest."
Nate takes in her shallow breathing (evidence of fear, of excitement) and the small tears at the corner of her eyes. He's not sure if she's decided on a different character to play, or if this is a ploy of the same persona.
"I think we both know that's not true," he says lowly, fingering the lapel of her coat. "You're a bad girl, aren't you? Lying to the police. That's not very smart."
"I didn't mean to," she whimpers. "I'm sorry. I'm just scared, I don't know what to do."
"Don't be scared," he says soothingly. "I just need to search you. I'm just doing my job, do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good," he smiles quickly, "Now stand up and open your jacket, so I can see."
She slides the front open, keeping her arms close to the her body, ever so shy and in character.
"Wider," he instructs, his voice gravel-like as he stares at the vision in front of him. Underneath the trench coat, she has on a flimsy black bra, the sheer lace doing nothing to hide her rose-pink nipples that seem to pebble under his from his gaze. He can't help himself - he has to touch her along the tantalizing curve from her waist to her hips, where he finds more black lace. He slips a finger under the elastic, past the soft, blonde curls and dips into her heat, the wetness sucking him further inside.
A startled look comes across her face; she bites her lip and gasps, "Officer, what are you doing?"
"Shh," he murmurs, making sure that she's watching as he slowly licks her arousal off his finger. "Just relax."
By this time, their carriage has just passed the top and is slowly beginning it way back into view of the other carnival goers. He pauses for a split-second, then quickly tugs her panties down her legs.
Jenny tenses and drops the act immediately. Whatever she had imagined when she suggested this game, he knows it wasn't this.
"Nate!" She hisses, trying to bend down to retrieve her panties. "What if somebody sees?"
He stills her motions with a hand on hers. "Then they'll know you belong to me."
Far beneath them, there's the sounds of the loud and cheerful carnival music playing, and he can also the mechanical noises of the ferris wheel. What's the loudest, however, is the sound of Jenny's breathing, rapid and choppy as she stares at him, wide-eyed, still half-naked to his gaze.
Finally, when she drops her hand to the side, he smiles.
"Come sit on my lap," he orders softly. She turns around, and he guides her so that she is sitting astride him backwards, her ass is firmly against his dick, the length of him hard and straining against his zipper. Her legs are bent in a kneeling position, feet resting on each side of his body.
"Like this?" She asks with an experimental little wiggle, looking back at him innocently.
He groans, grips her hips to still the movement, and grits out, "You don't move unless I tell you, understand?"
She doesn't reply, but that could have something to do with his fingers which are suddenly inside her, one pressing up and then two, and Nate can hear her breath hitch with the sudden fullness.
"Do you like that?" He smirks, slowly the pace, dragging it out.
"I--oh!" she gasps when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, "Yes! More, fuck me faster, you son-of-a-bitch."
It surprised him at first -- Jenny Humphrey and her dirty little mouth.
"Touch yourself. Play with your breasts, and I'll reward you," he promises.
She doesn't need to be told twice, both hands cupping herself over the bra, then pushing the restrictive cups upwards until her breasts bounce free. When she arches back, moaning as she kneads and tweaks, soft whimpers with each pinch and squeeze, he has a sneaking suspicion that she's knows exactly the effect this is having on him. He's got a great view from over her shoulder, and he gets harder just thinking about whether she ever does this by herself, in private, and that this must be what she sees as well.
It's as if she can read his mind, because his gaze is locked on one delicate hand that makes its way down past her belly to join his, both quickly covered in her slickness.
"I said, faster, Nate," she says silkily, turning her head slightly so they're face-to-face. "Or do I have to finish it off myself?"
"Show me," he says, "show me how you would do it."
They both watch as she rubs herself, a few quick flicks to her clit, before resuming where he left off. There's no pretense to it, he can tell how much she wants to come from the fast pace and the jagged rhythm.
"Slow down, Jenny," he murmurs, guiding her and steadying her slippery rhythm.
The whole scene is getting him so hot, and he's fighting back the need to come in his pants like a ninth-grader as she slides back and forth across his dick, and every little whimper she makes nearly sends him over the edge. He's still fully-clothed with a practically naked Jenny Humphrey on his lap; they're sitting in a ferris wheel carriage while he fucks her with her own hand and she's chanting raggedly, "oh God, oh God, oh God..." until she's bucking up and she's there and oh God and there's a shriek which she muffles against her open palm.
When Jenny's shudders finally subside, she sags against him, chest heaving. He presses a kiss on the crook of her neck, warm and damn from sweat, and strokes the length of her arm, letting the sounds of her slowing breathing calm him down.
"Nate," she says after a while, still panting slightly, "we're still at the top."
And it's true: while they started their descent, their carriage never came into the view of the other people on the ground. Once it got anywhere near the bottom, the ferris wheel would start again the other way, keeping them near the apex (where nobody could see them).
"I bribed the guy," he says nonchalantly.
She makes a face. "I bet you think you're so smart, huh?"
"Yep," he says proudly. "I made you scream, didn't I?"
She mumbles something (it sounds like, "debatable") and slides over to the side, pulls the front of her coat closed.
"I didn't quite get that," he continues mercilessly. "Can you say it a bit louder? I know you can."
"Ha, ha," she says, but it doesn't come out quite as flat as probably wanted, especially when she moves to lie down with her head in his lap, stretching out languidly like a cat. "Whatever. Okay, you made me scream. I feel too good to argue with you right now."
He grins wolfishly at her. "You know, I kind of feel like I'm having lots of hot one night stands. The woman in the library? The woman in the supermarket? The woman at the carnival? And where do you get all these disguises?" Nate flicks the short and shiny coat that barely covers her. "They're all so… sexy."
Jenny sneaks a hand up his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "I'm glad you think so. Maybe you should get something as well? Maybe dress up as surfer," she suggests playfully.
"Do you really want me to get long stringy hair and smell like sweat?" He deadpans. "Because I could just skip my next two showers."
"Maybe not," Jenny wrinkles her nose. "I was thinking that our next escapade could be in the cinema, though? One of those late night sessions… what do you think?"
Nate laughs out loud. "Going to the movies?" He teases. "I didn't think you did those things anymore, Jen. How pedestrian of you."
The VIP room at the Victrola is empty when Nate walks in, save for Chuck Bass and his personal cocktail waitress. The cocktail waitress looks remarkably like the various girls of Chuck's past - which means she is a skimpily dressed female - but Nate notices that unlike her predecessors, she keeps her distance. He imagines that Blair has trained somebody well.
The Basses returned from their honeymoon unexpectedly early, which sent tongues wagging. The official story was that Blair had an emergency at her company that needed her attention, but Nate suspects they were bored on a tropical island where nobody else understood them or their games. They might as well have gone to Kansas.
"Nathaniel," Chuck says, raising his glass in greeting. "I was very surprised to hear that you've been… around."
Nate chuckles. "Let's skip the innuendo, okay?"
"Alright," Chuck agrees. "I'm far too tired for that, anyway. It's Amanda LeFleur, isn't it?"
"Who?"
"The girl who pays homage to her family name by always wearing a flower - even if not everyone can see it. I thought you might get a kick out of that."
"I think that's your m.o.," Nate retorts. "Save a headband, wear a flower?"
"Touché," Chuck smirks. "But I don't hear you denying it. But Amanda LaFleur, really? That's all it took you to come home?"
"Well, fascinating as she sounds, I've never heard of her. And what makes you think it's a person that's keeping me here?"
"Do you really expect me to believe this is some sort of sea change? After years of being away, you've decided that you miss home?"
"It's true. I just realized that I needed to rearrange my life."
Chuck wears his patented stare of narrow-eyed scrutiny. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this, so you might as well tell me now."
Nate shrugs lightly and takes a sip of whiskey, savoring it on his tongue. Over the past few weeks, he's developed a taste for it. "What if I told you that I just realized that I wasn't happy in London? And coming home made me figure that out?"
The words are chosen carefully and not entirely untrue, but Chuck is unconvinced.
"Fine," he says, "don't tell me."
One week later, Chuck calls him and says his private investigator has reported some strange sightings. Has Nate been seeing a hooker? Two? And has he been experimenting with pretty boys?
Nate just laughs.
Or was the pretty boy just Nate's reflection in the mirror?
Nate hangs up.
He meets Adam Mayfair by complete accident.
It's the middle of a weekday and Nate is in the midst of resigning from his job when he decides to take a break in the hotel cafe. There's an attractive waitress who introduces herself as Shelley, and who bends a little lower than necessary to set down his drink. Nate is the middle of thinking that this is a scenario he and Jenny have not acted out yet, when parts of a conversation from the next table waft over to him.
The name 'Adam Mayfair' is mentioned. Apparently, he is late to a business meeting.
Nate would be content to pretend that the man didn't exist, and it wasn't often that he thought about the man Jenny was married to. If he didn't think of him, he didn't feel the faint twinges of guilt, and he didn't need to go through the process of rationalizing the guilt away. In any case, from what he has gathered from Jenny and Dan, her marriage is not a happy one. He may have a vested interest, but Nate doesn't imagine it worth salvaging.
He can't deny that sometimes he is curious, though. Who did she choose? What is he like? He and Jenny never talk about the man she is married to. They discuss almost everything else, from Dan and Serena's neverending saga, to whether the method of cooking eggs for breakfast resulting in differing energy levels (her: maybe; him: no), to how Jenny should re-launch her career as a fashion designer (her: too difficult, too soon; him: yes, now). Two topics are avoided though, and her marriage is one of them. This is an unspoken rule.
Nate imagines that Adam Mayfair is an older man, someone who used to sweeping young and impressionable women off their feet with promises that he can't possible keep. A sweet-talker, someone who is late to meetings and dates and can get away with it. By the time she realizes who he is, Adam Mayfair is already picking out his next conquest, the next in his collection of beautiful things.
Unfortunately, the man who appears shortly after is not like this at all.
Nate sucks in a sharp breath, frozen to his seat.
This is him. This is Adam Mayfair, except he's not in his 40s, he is maybe in his early 30s. He's not balding, but has midnight black hair cut a little too long. He orders a coffee from the very interested Shelly the Waitress, but he doesn't wink at her while he does and nor does he ogle her legs or her ass as she walks away. When he speaks to his colleagues, they're glued to his every word because he is charismatic and intelligent and persuasive, and Nate forces himself to turn away and stop staring and stop listening before he's convinced that this is the better man.
Adam Mayfair is not at all who Nate thought he would be.
But he's not the better man. Not from what Jenny has told him.
Nate stands abruptly, leaving a generous tip for Shelly's efforts, and strides back to the lobby.
Halfway there, he's stopped by a petite brunette who always knows a little too much for her own good.
"Archibald. I hear you've taken to seeing a couple of hookers," Blair declares with a flourish, not mindful of the many people milling around them.
Nate's only reaction is to splutter, "What-I-"
"With hearts of gold, of course," she smirks. "I'd expect nothing less from you." She's always loved to see him squirm.
"Is this a conversation I want to interrupt?" Says an amused voice that Nate is becoming increasingly familiar with.
"Adam!" Blair smiles in delight. "I didn't expect to run into you here."
"Oh, business to attend to," Adam shrugs with a smile that says, 'what can you do?'. "Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?"
"Oh, business to attend to," Blair mimics. "It's so hard to find a second-in-charge, these days," she sighs.
Nate coughs discreetly.
"Adam, have you met Nate Archibald? He's a good friend of mine from high school. Nate, this is Adam Mayfair."
"Good to meet you," Adam says affably, offering his hand.
Nate takes it, making sure that his side of the handshake is strong and confident, not overly stiff like his spine. "You, too," he says far more easily than he feels. (He can be a good liar, too, when it counts.)
"I'm surprised the two of you haven't crossed paths before," Blair continues. "Adam is one of the best and most-sought after financial advisors in New York. Nate is in the same field, but in London."
Of course Adam Mayfair would be very successful. "Bigger world than we thought, I guess," Nate says.
"And Adam is, of course, Jenny's husband as well."
"Oh, how do you know Jennifer?" Adam smiles expectantly.
Nate wants to scratch the back of his neck (it's a spot Jenny often pays special attention to, and he feels the itch of her fingerprints on his skin) but refrains. Instead, he shrugs again and chooses his words carefully. "We knew each other a long time ago. We were friends."
If Adam notices the hesitation in his answer, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he goes on to exchange pleasantries, saying something along the lines of how he will mention this to Jenny, and that he's sure she would love to catch up with an old friend.
Blair, however, is watching him shrewdly. It makes him nervous, because while Blair cannot possibly know everything in the world, but she often does. He wouldn't be surprised if she has her minions working on this puzzle for her, trailing him alongside Chuck's PI. (This is a scenario he will keep in mind, as well.)
Adam excuses himself soon after, and Blair agrees that her meeting needs to be attended to as well.
"I trust I will the both of you at tomorrow night's Charity Gala?"
"Ay, ay," Adam says with a mock-salute before returning to his table. "Jen wouldn't let me miss it."
"I'll see if I can make it," Nate offers. He's avoided these high society events thus far, and would prefer to continue doing so.
"Nate," she calls as he is leaving. "You have a history of doing stupid things. Try not to, okay?"
His eyebrows knit together. "I'm… I don't know what you mean."
Blair sighs. "I didn't think you would."
Once he starts, Nate can't stop thinking about it.
Does Jenny love Adam Mayfair? What is she like when she is around him? Are they a perfect society couple that continues the facade at home? When alone, are they nauseatingly sweet; does he chase her around the house in underwear and socks; is their housekeeper frequently and unsuspectingly invading their privacy when she tries to clean the bathroom/kitchen/lounge?
The questions plague him as he arrives at the Gala. It's almost an unspoken rule that he doesn't participate in that world anymore, that they're paths only cross when she is someone else, but he needs to know.
How did they meet? Did he pursue her, or did she pursue him? Did she only marry him because of the money; is that somebody Nate can believe she has become?
"Nathaniel," Chuck says to him when he approaches the bar. "I have heard some very interesting news."
"You know I'm not interested in gossip."
"News is never gossip. Especially when it is a scandal involving the some of the most influential people in the city."
Nate snorts. Blair has a big mouth. "Don't believe everything you hear."
"I guess I'll just have to watch for myself, won't I?"
"Watch what?" Serena cuts in, current husband in tow.
"Nothing," Nate says firmly. "Chuck is just being Chuck."
Serena is a good foil, and she chatters on while he surveys the room, and while Chuck surveys him. Nate tries to keep his emotions under wraps, but he's not sure of his success. When Jenny walks into the room, she's on Adam Mayfair's arm and they look like they have hired an airbrusher to work in between each freeze-frame for their flaws.
This is a Jenny that Nate has not been with before. They met briefly before, but even then he could see the girl lingering underneath. (He likes to think he brings that part out of her.) He's been with a dozen Jennys, fucked a dozen Jennys, made love with a dozen Jennys, but not Socialite Jenny. When she is Jennifer Mayfair, she is not with him.
He's mesmerized, the way she expresses emotions with a smile equally cool and refined and the subtle movements of her eyebrows. Her eyes don't wrinkle at the sides when she laughs. She sips at her champagne class delicately, as if she hadn't sucked his cock into her mouth twenty-four hours earlier. She looks at him as if they've never kissed aside from those times in high school, back he wasn't sure he wanted them, and when they cross paths on the outside balconies where nobody can hear them, she pretends politely that they are only old acquaintances.
It's a great act, but he's not at all worried. Of all the Jennys that he has known, this is the only one that isn't real.
But throughout the night, he can't help but feel nauseated at the sight of Jenny and Adam: making their rounds of the room like a perfect society couple; speaking quietly with a few other couples who appear to be friends; dancing, their bodies close, her head on his chest, him stroking her hair.
Without his usual close up view, she's a much better actor than he thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Jenny murmurs sleepily. She's lying on her stomach, the white sheet low on her hips, leaving the smooth curve of her back bare. It's his side of the bed, but he lets her stay. He's been watching her for the last fifteen minutes as she slips in and out of slumber, tired from the night.
She came to see him after the gala, with no make up and no explanations. He didn't hesitate to let her in.
"I'm thinking," he drawls, "that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
She laughs a little into her pillow. "You're a good guy, Nate Archibald. But sometimes? You say all the right things at all the wrong times."
Nate laughs and pulls her toward him until their bodies are close, their legs entwined, her head on his chest. Her breasts are pressed against his belly and she's warm on his side. He strokes her hair.
These moments in private, tucked away from the rest of the world, where's she's just Jenny Humphrey, no disguises, are the times he loves best.
TBC
Characters: Nate/Jenny
Summary: Nate Archibald left New York and everyone in it behind years ago. He doesn't miss it. So why does he still dream about it?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plots and themes are property of the creators of the TV show Gossip Girl. They do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from the writing and posting of this story.
[three]
Nate does not dream for three weeks. He doesn't miss it.
When awake, he sees life in technicolor.
It's edging towards five o' clock and the sun starts its slow decent. Nate is wearing a beige trench coat, the collar pulled high around his neck, dark sunglasses shading his eyes from the distant sun. He feel ridiculous and, frankly, a little embarrassed, but at the same time exhilarated.
The teenage boy beside the ticket booth looks mildly curious at his appearance, and understandably so: Nate looks like a flasher. In the midst of a busy carnival full of hundreds of people - many of them children doing a half-run-half-skip and licking their pink cotton candy, and many of them small enough to fit under his uncomfortably long coat. He's already counted five mothers pull their young children a little closer and give him contemptuous looks.
He wanted to raise his hands and say, I'm not a pervert, honest! But then he couldn't exactly follow up with, I'm just trying to conduct an affair with a married woman who doesn't want to be seen in public with me…
"Did you get the package?" Nate says, moving his lips as little as possible, staring straight ahead.
The boy's eyebrows furrow. "The ticket, you mean? Yeah, here it is," he produces the token with not even an attempt or nod at subterfuge. "Where's my 20 bucks?"
Nate rolls his eyes and turns to face the boy fully. Kids, these days, he thinks. None of them had any subtlety.
"Here," he says, pushing the bill into the boys direction, "take it. When's the ride start?"
"This one's going now. You just line up over there."
Nate looks over and spots Jenny at the front of the line, ready to step into the carriage.
She is similarly dressed in a trench coat, but a short black one that bares her shapely legs, slim calves and stiletto heels. Her hair is long, messy and bright red, and she has thick blue liner around her eyes, reminding him of that phase she had in high school. Her disguise is good - he doubts that with those legs and that hair, anybody would be looking closely at her face.
"I don't have a partner," he can hear her tell the ride attendant.
"Anybody else going up alone?"
"I am," Nate calls, handing the ticket the attendant and climbing into the small space next to Jenny. "Thanks."
Jenny barely looks at him as the ride starts. When their carriage finally reaches mid-air against the now-dark sky, he turns to her and sheds his coat in the same motion, leaving a black button-down shirt and jeans. "I feel like a flasher," he jokes. "But I'm surprised you didn't get arrested. No offence, but you look like a hooker."
"Oh, Officer," she says sultrily. "Do you need to search me?"
His gaze falls on the small gape in the front of her coat. Up this high, their only light is from the moon and the stars. He can barely make out the valley between her breasts and a hint of lace.
"Oh, yes," he says, mouth slightly dry. "I think I will have to do that."
"I'm don't have anything on me, Officer," she whispers, quickly abandoning the seducer for the ingenue caught up in a bad situation. "Honest."
Nate takes in her shallow breathing (evidence of fear, of excitement) and the small tears at the corner of her eyes. He's not sure if she's decided on a different character to play, or if this is a ploy of the same persona.
"I think we both know that's not true," he says lowly, fingering the lapel of her coat. "You're a bad girl, aren't you? Lying to the police. That's not very smart."
"I didn't mean to," she whimpers. "I'm sorry. I'm just scared, I don't know what to do."
"Don't be scared," he says soothingly. "I just need to search you. I'm just doing my job, do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good," he smiles quickly, "Now stand up and open your jacket, so I can see."
She slides the front open, keeping her arms close to the her body, ever so shy and in character.
"Wider," he instructs, his voice gravel-like as he stares at the vision in front of him. Underneath the trench coat, she has on a flimsy black bra, the sheer lace doing nothing to hide her rose-pink nipples that seem to pebble under his from his gaze. He can't help himself - he has to touch her along the tantalizing curve from her waist to her hips, where he finds more black lace. He slips a finger under the elastic, past the soft, blonde curls and dips into her heat, the wetness sucking him further inside.
A startled look comes across her face; she bites her lip and gasps, "Officer, what are you doing?"
"Shh," he murmurs, making sure that she's watching as he slowly licks her arousal off his finger. "Just relax."
By this time, their carriage has just passed the top and is slowly beginning it way back into view of the other carnival goers. He pauses for a split-second, then quickly tugs her panties down her legs.
Jenny tenses and drops the act immediately. Whatever she had imagined when she suggested this game, he knows it wasn't this.
"Nate!" She hisses, trying to bend down to retrieve her panties. "What if somebody sees?"
He stills her motions with a hand on hers. "Then they'll know you belong to me."
Far beneath them, there's the sounds of the loud and cheerful carnival music playing, and he can also the mechanical noises of the ferris wheel. What's the loudest, however, is the sound of Jenny's breathing, rapid and choppy as she stares at him, wide-eyed, still half-naked to his gaze.
Finally, when she drops her hand to the side, he smiles.
"Come sit on my lap," he orders softly. She turns around, and he guides her so that she is sitting astride him backwards, her ass is firmly against his dick, the length of him hard and straining against his zipper. Her legs are bent in a kneeling position, feet resting on each side of his body.
"Like this?" She asks with an experimental little wiggle, looking back at him innocently.
He groans, grips her hips to still the movement, and grits out, "You don't move unless I tell you, understand?"
She doesn't reply, but that could have something to do with his fingers which are suddenly inside her, one pressing up and then two, and Nate can hear her breath hitch with the sudden fullness.
"Do you like that?" He smirks, slowly the pace, dragging it out.
"I--oh!" she gasps when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, "Yes! More, fuck me faster, you son-of-a-bitch."
It surprised him at first -- Jenny Humphrey and her dirty little mouth.
"Touch yourself. Play with your breasts, and I'll reward you," he promises.
She doesn't need to be told twice, both hands cupping herself over the bra, then pushing the restrictive cups upwards until her breasts bounce free. When she arches back, moaning as she kneads and tweaks, soft whimpers with each pinch and squeeze, he has a sneaking suspicion that she's knows exactly the effect this is having on him. He's got a great view from over her shoulder, and he gets harder just thinking about whether she ever does this by herself, in private, and that this must be what she sees as well.
It's as if she can read his mind, because his gaze is locked on one delicate hand that makes its way down past her belly to join his, both quickly covered in her slickness.
"I said, faster, Nate," she says silkily, turning her head slightly so they're face-to-face. "Or do I have to finish it off myself?"
"Show me," he says, "show me how you would do it."
They both watch as she rubs herself, a few quick flicks to her clit, before resuming where he left off. There's no pretense to it, he can tell how much she wants to come from the fast pace and the jagged rhythm.
"Slow down, Jenny," he murmurs, guiding her and steadying her slippery rhythm.
The whole scene is getting him so hot, and he's fighting back the need to come in his pants like a ninth-grader as she slides back and forth across his dick, and every little whimper she makes nearly sends him over the edge. He's still fully-clothed with a practically naked Jenny Humphrey on his lap; they're sitting in a ferris wheel carriage while he fucks her with her own hand and she's chanting raggedly, "oh God, oh God, oh God..." until she's bucking up and she's there and oh God and there's a shriek which she muffles against her open palm.
When Jenny's shudders finally subside, she sags against him, chest heaving. He presses a kiss on the crook of her neck, warm and damn from sweat, and strokes the length of her arm, letting the sounds of her slowing breathing calm him down.
"Nate," she says after a while, still panting slightly, "we're still at the top."
And it's true: while they started their descent, their carriage never came into the view of the other people on the ground. Once it got anywhere near the bottom, the ferris wheel would start again the other way, keeping them near the apex (where nobody could see them).
"I bribed the guy," he says nonchalantly.
She makes a face. "I bet you think you're so smart, huh?"
"Yep," he says proudly. "I made you scream, didn't I?"
She mumbles something (it sounds like, "debatable") and slides over to the side, pulls the front of her coat closed.
"I didn't quite get that," he continues mercilessly. "Can you say it a bit louder? I know you can."
"Ha, ha," she says, but it doesn't come out quite as flat as probably wanted, especially when she moves to lie down with her head in his lap, stretching out languidly like a cat. "Whatever. Okay, you made me scream. I feel too good to argue with you right now."
He grins wolfishly at her. "You know, I kind of feel like I'm having lots of hot one night stands. The woman in the library? The woman in the supermarket? The woman at the carnival? And where do you get all these disguises?" Nate flicks the short and shiny coat that barely covers her. "They're all so… sexy."
Jenny sneaks a hand up his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "I'm glad you think so. Maybe you should get something as well? Maybe dress up as surfer," she suggests playfully.
"Do you really want me to get long stringy hair and smell like sweat?" He deadpans. "Because I could just skip my next two showers."
"Maybe not," Jenny wrinkles her nose. "I was thinking that our next escapade could be in the cinema, though? One of those late night sessions… what do you think?"
Nate laughs out loud. "Going to the movies?" He teases. "I didn't think you did those things anymore, Jen. How pedestrian of you."
The VIP room at the Victrola is empty when Nate walks in, save for Chuck Bass and his personal cocktail waitress. The cocktail waitress looks remarkably like the various girls of Chuck's past - which means she is a skimpily dressed female - but Nate notices that unlike her predecessors, she keeps her distance. He imagines that Blair has trained somebody well.
The Basses returned from their honeymoon unexpectedly early, which sent tongues wagging. The official story was that Blair had an emergency at her company that needed her attention, but Nate suspects they were bored on a tropical island where nobody else understood them or their games. They might as well have gone to Kansas.
"Nathaniel," Chuck says, raising his glass in greeting. "I was very surprised to hear that you've been… around."
Nate chuckles. "Let's skip the innuendo, okay?"
"Alright," Chuck agrees. "I'm far too tired for that, anyway. It's Amanda LeFleur, isn't it?"
"Who?"
"The girl who pays homage to her family name by always wearing a flower - even if not everyone can see it. I thought you might get a kick out of that."
"I think that's your m.o.," Nate retorts. "Save a headband, wear a flower?"
"Touché," Chuck smirks. "But I don't hear you denying it. But Amanda LaFleur, really? That's all it took you to come home?"
"Well, fascinating as she sounds, I've never heard of her. And what makes you think it's a person that's keeping me here?"
"Do you really expect me to believe this is some sort of sea change? After years of being away, you've decided that you miss home?"
"It's true. I just realized that I needed to rearrange my life."
Chuck wears his patented stare of narrow-eyed scrutiny. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this, so you might as well tell me now."
Nate shrugs lightly and takes a sip of whiskey, savoring it on his tongue. Over the past few weeks, he's developed a taste for it. "What if I told you that I just realized that I wasn't happy in London? And coming home made me figure that out?"
The words are chosen carefully and not entirely untrue, but Chuck is unconvinced.
"Fine," he says, "don't tell me."
One week later, Chuck calls him and says his private investigator has reported some strange sightings. Has Nate been seeing a hooker? Two? And has he been experimenting with pretty boys?
Nate just laughs.
Or was the pretty boy just Nate's reflection in the mirror?
Nate hangs up.
He meets Adam Mayfair by complete accident.
It's the middle of a weekday and Nate is in the midst of resigning from his job when he decides to take a break in the hotel cafe. There's an attractive waitress who introduces herself as Shelley, and who bends a little lower than necessary to set down his drink. Nate is the middle of thinking that this is a scenario he and Jenny have not acted out yet, when parts of a conversation from the next table waft over to him.
The name 'Adam Mayfair' is mentioned. Apparently, he is late to a business meeting.
Nate would be content to pretend that the man didn't exist, and it wasn't often that he thought about the man Jenny was married to. If he didn't think of him, he didn't feel the faint twinges of guilt, and he didn't need to go through the process of rationalizing the guilt away. In any case, from what he has gathered from Jenny and Dan, her marriage is not a happy one. He may have a vested interest, but Nate doesn't imagine it worth salvaging.
He can't deny that sometimes he is curious, though. Who did she choose? What is he like? He and Jenny never talk about the man she is married to. They discuss almost everything else, from Dan and Serena's neverending saga, to whether the method of cooking eggs for breakfast resulting in differing energy levels (her: maybe; him: no), to how Jenny should re-launch her career as a fashion designer (her: too difficult, too soon; him: yes, now). Two topics are avoided though, and her marriage is one of them. This is an unspoken rule.
Nate imagines that Adam Mayfair is an older man, someone who used to sweeping young and impressionable women off their feet with promises that he can't possible keep. A sweet-talker, someone who is late to meetings and dates and can get away with it. By the time she realizes who he is, Adam Mayfair is already picking out his next conquest, the next in his collection of beautiful things.
Unfortunately, the man who appears shortly after is not like this at all.
Nate sucks in a sharp breath, frozen to his seat.
This is him. This is Adam Mayfair, except he's not in his 40s, he is maybe in his early 30s. He's not balding, but has midnight black hair cut a little too long. He orders a coffee from the very interested Shelly the Waitress, but he doesn't wink at her while he does and nor does he ogle her legs or her ass as she walks away. When he speaks to his colleagues, they're glued to his every word because he is charismatic and intelligent and persuasive, and Nate forces himself to turn away and stop staring and stop listening before he's convinced that this is the better man.
Adam Mayfair is not at all who Nate thought he would be.
But he's not the better man. Not from what Jenny has told him.
Nate stands abruptly, leaving a generous tip for Shelly's efforts, and strides back to the lobby.
Halfway there, he's stopped by a petite brunette who always knows a little too much for her own good.
"Archibald. I hear you've taken to seeing a couple of hookers," Blair declares with a flourish, not mindful of the many people milling around them.
Nate's only reaction is to splutter, "What-I-"
"With hearts of gold, of course," she smirks. "I'd expect nothing less from you." She's always loved to see him squirm.
"Is this a conversation I want to interrupt?" Says an amused voice that Nate is becoming increasingly familiar with.
"Adam!" Blair smiles in delight. "I didn't expect to run into you here."
"Oh, business to attend to," Adam shrugs with a smile that says, 'what can you do?'. "Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?"
"Oh, business to attend to," Blair mimics. "It's so hard to find a second-in-charge, these days," she sighs.
Nate coughs discreetly.
"Adam, have you met Nate Archibald? He's a good friend of mine from high school. Nate, this is Adam Mayfair."
"Good to meet you," Adam says affably, offering his hand.
Nate takes it, making sure that his side of the handshake is strong and confident, not overly stiff like his spine. "You, too," he says far more easily than he feels. (He can be a good liar, too, when it counts.)
"I'm surprised the two of you haven't crossed paths before," Blair continues. "Adam is one of the best and most-sought after financial advisors in New York. Nate is in the same field, but in London."
Of course Adam Mayfair would be very successful. "Bigger world than we thought, I guess," Nate says.
"And Adam is, of course, Jenny's husband as well."
"Oh, how do you know Jennifer?" Adam smiles expectantly.
Nate wants to scratch the back of his neck (it's a spot Jenny often pays special attention to, and he feels the itch of her fingerprints on his skin) but refrains. Instead, he shrugs again and chooses his words carefully. "We knew each other a long time ago. We were friends."
If Adam notices the hesitation in his answer, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he goes on to exchange pleasantries, saying something along the lines of how he will mention this to Jenny, and that he's sure she would love to catch up with an old friend.
Blair, however, is watching him shrewdly. It makes him nervous, because while Blair cannot possibly know everything in the world, but she often does. He wouldn't be surprised if she has her minions working on this puzzle for her, trailing him alongside Chuck's PI. (This is a scenario he will keep in mind, as well.)
Adam excuses himself soon after, and Blair agrees that her meeting needs to be attended to as well.
"I trust I will the both of you at tomorrow night's Charity Gala?"
"Ay, ay," Adam says with a mock-salute before returning to his table. "Jen wouldn't let me miss it."
"I'll see if I can make it," Nate offers. He's avoided these high society events thus far, and would prefer to continue doing so.
"Nate," she calls as he is leaving. "You have a history of doing stupid things. Try not to, okay?"
His eyebrows knit together. "I'm… I don't know what you mean."
Blair sighs. "I didn't think you would."
Once he starts, Nate can't stop thinking about it.
Does Jenny love Adam Mayfair? What is she like when she is around him? Are they a perfect society couple that continues the facade at home? When alone, are they nauseatingly sweet; does he chase her around the house in underwear and socks; is their housekeeper frequently and unsuspectingly invading their privacy when she tries to clean the bathroom/kitchen/lounge?
The questions plague him as he arrives at the Gala. It's almost an unspoken rule that he doesn't participate in that world anymore, that they're paths only cross when she is someone else, but he needs to know.
How did they meet? Did he pursue her, or did she pursue him? Did she only marry him because of the money; is that somebody Nate can believe she has become?
"Nathaniel," Chuck says to him when he approaches the bar. "I have heard some very interesting news."
"You know I'm not interested in gossip."
"News is never gossip. Especially when it is a scandal involving the some of the most influential people in the city."
Nate snorts. Blair has a big mouth. "Don't believe everything you hear."
"I guess I'll just have to watch for myself, won't I?"
"Watch what?" Serena cuts in, current husband in tow.
"Nothing," Nate says firmly. "Chuck is just being Chuck."
Serena is a good foil, and she chatters on while he surveys the room, and while Chuck surveys him. Nate tries to keep his emotions under wraps, but he's not sure of his success. When Jenny walks into the room, she's on Adam Mayfair's arm and they look like they have hired an airbrusher to work in between each freeze-frame for their flaws.
This is a Jenny that Nate has not been with before. They met briefly before, but even then he could see the girl lingering underneath. (He likes to think he brings that part out of her.) He's been with a dozen Jennys, fucked a dozen Jennys, made love with a dozen Jennys, but not Socialite Jenny. When she is Jennifer Mayfair, she is not with him.
He's mesmerized, the way she expresses emotions with a smile equally cool and refined and the subtle movements of her eyebrows. Her eyes don't wrinkle at the sides when she laughs. She sips at her champagne class delicately, as if she hadn't sucked his cock into her mouth twenty-four hours earlier. She looks at him as if they've never kissed aside from those times in high school, back he wasn't sure he wanted them, and when they cross paths on the outside balconies where nobody can hear them, she pretends politely that they are only old acquaintances.
It's a great act, but he's not at all worried. Of all the Jennys that he has known, this is the only one that isn't real.
But throughout the night, he can't help but feel nauseated at the sight of Jenny and Adam: making their rounds of the room like a perfect society couple; speaking quietly with a few other couples who appear to be friends; dancing, their bodies close, her head on his chest, him stroking her hair.
Without his usual close up view, she's a much better actor than he thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Jenny murmurs sleepily. She's lying on her stomach, the white sheet low on her hips, leaving the smooth curve of her back bare. It's his side of the bed, but he lets her stay. He's been watching her for the last fifteen minutes as she slips in and out of slumber, tired from the night.
She came to see him after the gala, with no make up and no explanations. He didn't hesitate to let her in.
"I'm thinking," he drawls, "that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
She laughs a little into her pillow. "You're a good guy, Nate Archibald. But sometimes? You say all the right things at all the wrong times."
Nate laughs and pulls her toward him until their bodies are close, their legs entwined, her head on his chest. Her breasts are pressed against his belly and she's warm on his side. He strokes her hair.
These moments in private, tucked away from the rest of the world, where's she's just Jenny Humphrey, no disguises, are the times he loves best.
TBC