Mr Americano - ALAN RICKMAN fanfic

Chapter 9 - Eat Me For Dessert

[This is rated a hard M. Mature readers only please]! 

"You look amazing!" Isabelle gushes as I stand waiting in her kitchen, fluffing my long blonde hair for the thousandth time. "You're gonna knock him dead. I mean, theoretically speaking..."

"You shit!" I hit her laughing. "Don't you start like Joe."

I wore a black dress that evening, mid length to my thighs with enough cleavage showing to keep it classy yet make Alan's mind wonder. Thin straps bared my tanned shoulders and silver heels were on feet. I kept my make up mostly nude with a little evening smoulder. That part Scott had ok'd before I left the house. The dress on the other hand didn't get put on until I reached Isabelle's. He would have never let me go out wearing that, unless he was with me parading me around like a trophy.

My excuse to Scott was that it was the night of the staff Christmas party. A little early, but places got booked up fast during the festive season. You have to grab them whilst you can. Isabelle had offered to pick me up in her car and take me to hers, and that's where we're at right now. What did I say to Alan? I told him that I was staying at a friend's house and gave him Isabelle's address.

I was a nervous wreck.

"Go on, have another glass of wine. It'll make the evening more interesting," she winked.

"You're a bloody bad influence you are!" I laugh. "No more bloody wine."

Moments later, Alan arrives. I insist on Isabelle being completely out of sight. "You'd better dish the dirt to me later," is the last thing she says to me before I open the door to him.

Holy...shit, I think my ovaries exploded. God does he look good. Completely edible. Grey sheen suit, white shirt with the top button casually undone, his hair complimenting his attire with a velvetty voice to top it.

"Well, don't you look stunning."

"Thank you," I blush, as he kisses my cheek. "You look great too." Really fucking great! Mentally taking my knickers off and throwing them at him.

He takes my arm and leads me to his BMW where heated seats await us and I'm enraptured by everything about him from the way he drives to the notes in his intoxicating cologne. These feelings only intensify as we sit opposite each other in one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. The confidence Alan exuberates as he speaks to the manager does thing to me. There was something about his firm hand-shake followed by a gentle hand on my waist as we were led to a private table that made me want to desperately undo his belt buckle and drop to my knees.

"I thought we'd order the tagliatelle," he says, perusing the menu. I look up and he's raising an eyebrow at me with the most deadly serious expression.

"Stop," I laugh knowing it was a dig at me dropping the noodles in his car. "I'm not eating anything that's un-lady like."

unless it's your di...

"Are you ready to order?" a voice interrupts us from the left. Alan snorts as if he can read my mind and I have to shield my bloody face from the waitress. Him being the actor pulls himself together and politely tells her we need a few more minutes, except it's far longer because we can't stop talking and laughing. He oozes charisma, charming the knickers off me. I may as well have left them in his car where our flirting all began.

The evening went on and we ate over conversation and great wine. The mood switches from dry humoured jokes to a mellow tone after a while and I sense a much more relaxed me, a combination of his down to earth nature and the wine I'm sure.

But now he's gazing across the table with his index finger to his temple, the other resting under his chin whilst he rubs the underside of his bottom lip, listening to me talk about my screen play and god it's distracting. He is effortlessly sexy, so much so that my very upper thighs involuntarily rub together. He clocks it and I trail off, no longer able to focus.