Title: Coffee Moods
Author: watson (
hiddenwatson@yahoo.com)
Distribution: please email me first
Rating: PG to NC-17, see individual entries for rating
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialog belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others. The stories contained here are of a personal nature, non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.
Summary: Thoughts and frivolities in a coffee sort of way.
*****
Coffee Moods #4: French NatureSummary: A case of lost luggage proves to be a hidden blessing.
Rating: R
Part 1/3"Willow Rosenberg, will you please calm down," she exclaimed. I could feel the exasperation rolling off her in waves, but my fury was even greater, and it threatened to blow up, destroying all in its path.
"How can I calm down, they're just completely incompetent idiots, no one seems to want to help," I screamed. "I'm calling the airline again."
I grabbed my cellphone and hit redial with a venom, stomping off, as far away as possible from the offensive reception area and the sorry excuse for a front desk clerk there. I glared at the weed nonchalantly standing there and felt annoyance building up again as Tara started talking to him. Why was she wasting her breath on weeds like that?
My attention was turned away when the call finally connected. I drew a breath to begin a diatribe, only to be cut short when I realized I'd gotten through to a voice menu system. God, how I hated these. I was too worked up to press the correct key combination to get at the recording that would deal with my complaint, instead hitting 0# immediately to be brought to a human operator.
"Hello, Air Atlantic Reservations, Albert speaking, how may I help you," the over cheerful voice grated in my ear.
"Look, my friend and I lost our luggage and it was supposed to be delivered to our hotel this afternoon and it hasn't arrived. How do you expect us to continue on our vacation without our luggage like this?" I yelled down the phone.
"I'm sorry ma'am, you've reached reservations, you'll need to speak to someone at customer service, I'll transfer you," the still cheerful voice of Albert reasoned.
"I've already spoken with customer service, what do you think I've been doing all day? I just called the number they left me and they're closed for the day, and no one's returned my call or left any message on my cell about where our luggage is!" my tirade continued. "I'd like to speak with someone in your office who can locate our luggage, this is our second night without it and it's getting unacceptable." Not to mention two witches getting stinky quickly.
"Oh dear. Let me see what I can do, may be I can pull something up on the computer screen. May I have your name please ma'am?" the ever polite Albert asked.
"No, no, no. I need to speak to someone, your supervisor, someone in your office must have dealt with my case during the day," I said, if I could add resolve voice to resolve face, now was the opportunity to do it.
"May I ask you which city you are calling from?" asked Albert.
"What? Paris, of course. I dialed a Paris number, so it's Paris, isn't it?" I snapped. Idiot. I haven't even mentioned how much this was costing me in call charges. I didn't want to go there.
"Ah, I see. Actually you've come through to reservations in Melbourne, we operate 24 hours so that's probably why you've been routed here. Listen, let me try the computer, ok? Can I have your name?" Albert said.
"Rosenberg, Willow Rosenberg," I spelt it for him. I was taken aback at the fact that I dialed a French number and got through to Australia. But right now I didn't have time to marvel at the technological aspect, I was desperately holding onto Albert as my last hope.
"Okay, it's just coming up, hold on," I could hear Albert clicking on his mouse, or was it me being oversensitive? "Right, Ms Rosenberg, flight AX772 from LAX to CDG, lost luggage reported for 2 PAX, you're traveling with a Ms Maclay, right?"
"Yes, and you guys lost both our bags, that's kinda incredible, if you asked me," I seethed. But I was beginning to appreciate Albert's efforts. He was halfway round the world, and usually only dealt with people making bookings, and there he was, checking for me. He was the best help I've had from that airline all day.
"Right, I'm afraid nothing new, your luggage is still listed as lost, usually if it's found they'd have a code to say where it's gone to, like which airport it's been sent to. Most cases the lost luggage should arrive on the next flight, looks like it's still somewhere out there. Sorry, not much of a help. But if it makes you feel better, people
are working on trying to locate your bags and to bring them to you, on behalf of the airline I do apologize for the inconvenience," he said sincerely.
"Thanks, Albert. But it's not your fault. You're all the way there in Australia, you had nothing to do with it," I sighed.
"Let's see if we know where to deliver the luggage once found. I have Hotel Josephine, 51 rue Beaufort, Paris, is that right?" he asked.
"We were supposed to leave tomorrow for the coast, now I'm not sure. Yeah, I guess we'll have to change our plans and stay another night," all of a sudden I was tired. Very tired of it all.
"We also have your cellphone number, so at least you're reachable, Ms Rosenberg," Albert commiserated.
"Except no one in the Paris office called me today, I'm real mad at them," I said, resigned.
"I'll send them an email, to remind them to give you an update tomorrow morning."
"You've been really helpful, Albert, thank you. And I'm sorry I yelled at you," I apologized.
"Don't mention it. Good luck."
"Thanks."
I looked at Tara, who was still in deep conversation with the clerk. She had the most intense expression on her, I bet she was trying to talk to the weed in French, hence the concentration. Even in the state I was, I couldn't help but appreciate how cute my girl looked. She grabbed some notepaper and wrote something down. I felt too drained to join her, so I found a nearby armchair and dropped myself in it.
"Sweetie?" her voice broke through the reverie I didn't know I had slipped into. "Any news?"
"No. You wouldn't believe it, I got connected to this guy in reservations in Melbourne," one of her eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, but no, they still haven't found our bags. I told them we're staying one more night so the bags can catch up."
"Are you sure? Cos the rental car and the next hotel is all booked," she asked gently. I know she was trying to be considerate.
"We don't have much of a choice, just have to change the plans," I sighed.
"Actually Will, we don't have to. I have a couple of ideas, you want to hear about it?" she said. There was this small glint in her eye that seemed a little inappropriate for the circumstances, but I was game enough to listen.
"What are you up to, Ms Maclay?" I questioned.
"It's still early, take me for a walk and a coffee?" she asked coquettishly.
She had a scheme cooking, I knew it in my bones. "For you, baby, of course. I'm sorry I lost my temper today."
"Hmm. Let's just say you owe me some very big apologies when we get back, ok?"
I was transformed into a thoroughly whipped kitten with just one sentence. "Yes ma'am."
*****
"Deux café au lait, s'il vous plait," she ordered.
"Not afraid the caffeine'll spaz me out?" I asked cheekily.
"I'm hoping you've exhausted your spaz quota for the day, in fact I think you're done for the whole week," she grinned.
God how I love her, she always said the right thing, even when making fun of me. I took her hand in mine and kissed her fingers, one by one, then soundly on the palm. I spied the guy behind the counter staring at us, but how little I cared.
We were at one of those small cafés dotted all over Paris, tiny round tables and chairs huddled together on the sidewalk, where customers could sit and watch the world go by, day and night. This particular café was situated at small square. A small fountain in the middle, a church at one side and small shops lining the other sides of the square. Tiny, narrow streets shooting off at peculiar angles off the square, occasionally a cute little car or a motor scooter would zoom by, but otherwise it was mainly pedestrian traffic. Our hotel was located 10 minutes' walk along one of those narrow side streets.
The waiter brought our coffees and didn't bother to hide his leer as he served us.
"So, what's your plan?" I prompted, my mind still on the stupid lost bags and this terrible start to our vacation.
"Plan A is drive down to Nice and then decide where to go, just like our original idea. We have the details of the Nice hotel, so if the bags arrive here in Paris, the hotel here can re-direct," she suggested.
Alarm bells started ringing in my organized head. "But the chances of the bags becoming lost again, and what if we decide to move on from Nice, it'll be a game of forever catch up. We might never see our bags again," I protested.
She took a sip of the coffee. Just watching her drink from that chipped white cup was enough for my heart to skip a beat and I found myself thinking how much I wanted to be that coffee and get inside her mouth. I drank a little of my coffee, not wanting to tear my eyes off her.
"There's another alternative. It depends on how adventurous you're feeling and how much you want to really relax and de-stress. You trust me?" she asked.
As if she didn't know the answer already. "I trust you," I declared truthfully.
"You promise you'll let me make all the arrangements? It's short notice but the clerk at the desk thinks it's do-able and he gave me some information," she said.
"That weed? He didn't know how to help us get our bags back, how can he possibly be of any help?" I felt my voice rising.
"Just let me handle it, sweetie, okay?" it was her turn to press a kiss onto my hand.
"Okay, okay. At least clue me in a little about this plan B," I pressed her playfully.
"It'll be a little surprise from me to you," she smiled. "Tomorrow morning, you call the Nice hotel to cancel, but the Nice hotel only, we're still going to Lyon. Then tell the clerk at our hotel to hold our bags when they arrive from the airline and call the airline again to confirm the address. We'll pick them up when we come back to Paris to catch our flight home."
"Not that I don't trust you baby, but what about clothes and stuff in our bags?" I wondered.
"While you're making the hotel arrangements, I'm going shopping. For what I have in mind, we don't need a lot of supplies, I'll also get some laundry powder, we can wash our clothes in the hotel bathroom. It's summer, T-shirts are fine and will dry quickly, and our shoes should last," she explained.
"I'm glad I took my laptop and chargers in my backpack," I said.
"Leave your laptop powered down all week, please, Will? For me?" she looked deeply at me, her want all too clearly visible on the open face that I loved.
I gulped. It took a lot of persuasion and cajoling on my part to be allowed to bring the Powerbook. But she had that adorable expression that I could never resist.
"Alright then," I conceded.
"I promise relaxation and fun, Will. I want to do something together, like enjoy the sun and sea, walk along the beach, just the two of us. I'm beginning to think that losing our bags was a good sign, we can travel light, be footloose and free," she said.
"All our worldly possessions in just one bag then, okay, I'm game. I'm glad it's summer, all we need are T-shirts, shorts and swimsuits," I was beginning to feel less uptight, and the prospect of a carefree vacation with Tara growing in appeal by the second. "Or very little clothing, hmm."
"We won't need clothing for the majority of the activities I was planning, you realize that don't you," she whispered, in full vixeny mode.
For the second time in as many minutes, I gulped. Woo-hoo. Take charge Tara. I was in for a grand time, the on-going hubbub about lost luggage all but disappeared in my rapidly lust-filled brain.
"Do those activities have to start tomorrow?" I asked, as innocently as I could muster.
A lazy smile spread across her lips. "Depends on how good you are tonight, will you be good tonight, Precious?" she purred.
"I'll be as good or as bad as you want, my Tara," I said huskily.
She drained her coffee and fished out enough change from her pocket to leave on the table. Held her hand out to pull me up from my chair.
"It takes 10 minutes to walk to our hotel, 7 if we run, I'm not sure I can last that long, please, Will."
Years of running away from vampires and demons trained us up to be fast movers. We ran straight back to the hotel.
*****
TBC
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quiet thoughts