450 Champs du Mars: Natalie Blackwood's Apartment

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Myron laughed. Natalie felt her heart balloon up happily. She sometimes forgot: she used to be funny. She used to be fun. Before she was somebody’s mummy and somebody’s wife (ex-wife), she’d been clever and silly and feisty. It was amazing what the daily grind got rid of first.

"I'll be sure to pick up my crown later,” Myron assured her with a wink.

It was Natalie’s turn to laugh. The sound filled her up. A delicate sound that flooded her whole body slowly until spilling over loudly. She was used to being subtly amused, but to hell with that. She and Myron were safely tucked away in her apartment. Who would know that even for a minute—or the whole night—Natalie had let down her guard?

Myron stretched out before the fire. The orangey glow lent him an ethereal glow. If she hadn’t spent a good portion of the night making love to him, Natalie might believe that he was a perfect figment of her imagination. A handsome, sexy, funny stranger, who had “a heart of mush” and a body most women could only fantasize about exploring.

"What would you be doing tonight if you hadn't gone out?" he asked.

“I almost didn’t,” Natalie confessed. “I seriously considered staying in with a book.”

She lied down beside Myron. The book she’d picked out sat with unturned pages on her dresser in her bedroom. Some trash novel she’d picked up at the newspaper stand this morning. “Le Duc est à Moi” or something. A poor translation of an American novel, but one meant to reteach Natalie French. It would have made for a lazy night. Less entertaining and less fulfilling by far.

“What made you decide to go out tonight?” she asked, swiveling to look at Myron. She was curious, though the answer might have been the plain truth that he’d gone out looking for a one night stand. But how he answered would be even more telling. Myron had a funny way with words. He intrigued her.

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar

It was an interesting question. It gave Myron some insight on what kind of woman Natalie Blackwood was. What would she be doing on a tpyical night? Was her nightlife crazy and outrageous or was she more of a keep to herself kinda' dame? All Myron Bolitar had dealt with his entire life was fast paced women. Cough- Madeleine- cough. So it wouldn't be different.

“I almost didn’t. I seriously considered staying in with a book.”

But this was different.

Myron Bolitar perked up, watching with glowing amusement as Natalie went down to his level to lie next to him. He turned his head to face with a warm smile, for some reason finding that so... attractive. Myron lived in a life of racy outfits, alcohol, raging music, and city lights. The high paced nightlife. He took pride in all he accomplished, and with that came the rep he needed to have. The Moulin Rouge night owner who knew everyone and was always out with everyone. It was good for business. With that came the wonder if women who stayed in to read a book really did exist anymore? Apparently so and she was lying right next to him.

“What made you decide to go out tonight?”

Myron's eyes that stared up at the ceiling widened and his stomach dropped a little bit. From the corner of his eye she could see him turning to look at him. Myron Bolitar was going to stoop down to a Homer Simpson quote and say 'doe', because he really was a moron now. He should have known. It was men and women questioning 101. When a person asks the other person a question, they will always and forever ask it back or something close to the question. And she had asked something about tonight. He usually didn't care, but crap he did not like his answer this time. Because for once in his life, Myron Bolitar had acted like a total pig tonight. Well, alright, that was a blatant lie, but okay- it was the first time Myron had actually gone out looking for a one night stand. Hence this was the whole- this was his first one night stand thing. But Myron Bolitar was not a liar.

With a small frown, Myron looked down before looking over at her. "I, uh-" Oh, that's a good intro to make him not sound like a total 'dude'. 'Uhhhhhhh'. Good one. Real surfer dude and real attractive.

"Well I'm going to be honest with you," He murmured expecting that, you know, she would want the truth. Did he know women or what? "I went out with the intentions of trying to fill some stupid, Ben and Jerry pathetic eating, sappy movie watching, void I've been having for awhile with a friend." Myron admitted, finding it so ugly what he was saying.

Then with a smirk, he shrugged. "But really all I wanted to do was play that really great swivel chair at the bar and I would have the entire night."

Myron Bolitar looked back at the fire.

"But then I saw you."

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Myron hesitated. Natalie wasn’t surprised. She asked tough questions. Often, she asked questions she already knew the answer to. Myron had come to the bar looking for a good time. Looking for a one-night stand. She could have guessed that. What man—even if it was his first one-night stand and he hadn’t said that to earn her trust or to make her feel better—didn’t do that when single? It wasn’t about the content. It was about the spin Myron could put on the truth. Natalie’s housewife career had been far from typical. She’d been, in effect, a campaign manager. She had edited dozens of speeches. It wasn’t what you said, it was how you said it. You could say anything and people would still love you if you said it right.

"Well I'm going to be honest with you," said Myron. "I went out with the intentions of trying to fill some stupid, Ben and Jerry pathetic eating, sappy movie watching, void I've been having for awhile with a friend."

For a moment, the words washed over her ears and didn’t sink in. He went out…. Intending to…. Fill a void. He’d gone out with a friend.

He’d been watching sappy movies and eating ice cream?

Did men do that?

"But really all I wanted to do was play that really great swivel chair at the bar and I would have the entire night." Myron Bolitar looked back at the fire. "But then I saw you."

Nice save.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” Natalie said, sweetly sarcastic, but not unhappily. She cocked her head and looked at one of the logs. It glowed orange and dark. “I’m glad I was more interesting than a swivel chair.”

She really was. She’d been bested by a dumpy, ugly wife when it came to Anthony. She’d been bested by Ashton when it came to Lucian. If she was less attractive than a swivel chair, Natalie would wonder what exactly was wrong with her. She wouldn’t feel purposeless, even if that had been the case. She had reason for being. Still, it was nice to know.

“I’m so glad neither of us kept with our original agendas.”

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar

Where was his friggin' My Heart Will Go On background music, because Myron Bolitar even knew Myron Bolitar sounded ridiculous. Of course, he was preaching the truth, but he could have worded it less like a cheesehead. That's what watching sappy movies did to a man, if you could even classify him as a man at this point. Although, tonight was pretty manly if Myron did say so himself. If only kitchen counters could talk...

“Aren’t you a charmer?”

Myron huffed a laugh at her light sarcastic tone and he shook his head. Whatever, he meant what he said. Wasn't his fault other asses in this world made all the lines sound like he was trying to be smooth or something. Alright, so Myron Bolitar liked lines. He couldn't help it.

“I’m glad I was more interesting than a swivel chair.”

Natalie Blackwood had no idea how much more interesting she was than a lot of things.

“I’m so glad neither of us kept with our original agendas.”

Myron nodded, both of them looking at the fire now. "I'm glad too." He murmured honestly, flattered that she thought so too. Tonight was a night Myron Bolitar would be thinking about a lot. Even the after chat was great, which was like, not suppose to happen so he hears from these little redezvous. No one would be doing a walk of shame here, and that was good because usually on his way to work Myron made fun of those people.

A drop of sweat dropped down Myron's face as he wiped it away, not realizing until now how long they had been sitting in front of this fire. "Whew." He noised, realizing how warm it was getting and looking over at Natalie who had been wrapped up in that blanket since they began the conversation. "Are you trying to make your own personal sauna over there for yourself what?" He teased lightly with a smirk.

Then his eyes flickered and he brought his palms into the air, realizing what he said, and once again that whole grabbing his words and swallowing them he wished could happen.

"And that was so not me trying to get you naked or anything." Myron said, cocking his head over at her and swiveling his body that was still lying on the floor next to her to face her with a grin. "Because, you know, I happen to think this blanket look could really take off as a fashion fad."

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Once they agreed on how glad they were, a silence descended on them. Natalie wondered if that was normal, the lulls in speech after a one night stand. She’d ask, but Natalie hated looking a fool. Never mind that Myron might not have the answer anyways. The fire still crackled in front of them, filling the quiet with flickering pops every few seconds.

"Whew," Myron said suddenly. "Are you trying to make your own personal sauna over there for yourself what?"

“Hmm?”

"And that was so not me trying to get you naked or anything." Myron said, cocking his head over at her and swiveling his body that was still lying on the floor next to her to face her with a grin. "Because, you know, I happen to think this blanket look could really take off as a fashion fad."

Natalie was actually a little chilly. She didn’t want to doff the blanket, though, even if she had been burning up. The prospect that Myron would notice her body’s flaws now that they were out of their heated kitchen tango terrified her. Natalie smiled, well aware that Myron was making a joke. She couldn’t bring herself to laugh, though. Motherhood and marriage and divorce had ravaged her body. Right now, the blanket was the only thing keeping Myron from guessing at any of those things. She could talk and laugh and joke with him, but trading sob stories? She’d done that with Ashton a few weeks ago and Natalie was in no hurry to repeat that mistake. It had landed her in counseling, which was helpful, but it left her vulnerable. She hated being vulnerable. She hated being soft and easy to break. She wanted to be

“Well, you already got me naked once,” she said airily, even though she was secretly mortified to say that out loud. She could hear her conscience snickering at her smugly. It sounded like Beatrice.

Listen to our kid, she’d say mock-affectionately. Finally acting like a big girl.

She was restless again. Maybe even desirous. She lowered her lids and looked at Myron again. She wondered if they could do this again, a little slower, and in the moonlit bedroom where every age line wasn’t so highlighted.

“Who’s to say you couldn’t do it again?”

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar

“Well, you already got me naked once."

Myron Bolitar's mouth opened slightly and for once he was speechless. Was that embarassing or what? He didn't know whether to take that as just a laughable statement like, 'Hey, remember you got me naked and we did the dirty, HA!', or something like a hit on. 'Remember you got me naked, big boy'. Which, would the big boy thing was insulting, but it was his mind that said it not hers. Anyways, Natalie Blackwood was this sexual woman by just lying there, so it was difficult for him to interpret when she was trying to be sexual. Make sense? Wow, Myron Bolitar was obviously horny again. She was just saying that he got her naked. She didn't say she wanted him to jump her bones again. Which, sounded violent and terrifying putting it that way. Anyways, maybe Myron just needed to leave. It was obvious that this pent up no-sex tension was getting to him and if he stuck around he may be crossing the line which isn't his intention at all.

But the mentioning of her naked was just an image Myron couldn't get out of his mind. Natalie's body was something that Myron Bolitar had never- Okay, this all sounded way to creeper ma-gee, but simply put: Natalie was a woman. A really gorgeous woman.

Yeah, Myron Hornitar needed to get the hell outta' Dodge.

Then it all took an interesting twist. Like, a twist that Myron had been imaging in his head but thought would never happen. Natalie's eyes lowered in a seductive way. The way the fire hit her features made Myron squirm in his position on the floor.

Hold the phone...

“Who’s to say you couldn’t do it again."

Ding!

Myron Bolitar's eyes flickered staring into hers. Was this some womanly test? No- he could very much see that she meant business. His heart jumped with newfound adrenaline, and to put it bluntly- it was so on. Myron wanted Natalie without a doubt and now she was making the first move so all systems were go. Myron's lips formed into a devilish smirk and he held himself up with his one hand. His brain had turned off and he wasn't really thinking with it. He was moving in on her from her lying position on the floor. She looked so sexy, and leaving so little to the imagination that it made him hungry. That's when he stopped in a dead hault right in front of her face. He stared into her eyes softly now and breathed the same air. Myron really looked into her eyes, because they weren't that unknown now that he knew a couple things about her.

This wasn't right.

Not too long ago Natalie had shared with Myron something important. It had been four years since something like this. Four years. Sure, they had their exciting moment in the kitchen, but this woman- even though he had just met her- gave to him what he needed as well. But she deserved something more than just a kitchen coutertop fling. Myron Bolitar was raised better than that, and Natalie Blackwood was better than that too. She wasn't some trashy slob who was wasted off of her mind. Well, he wouldn't even be around her if she were that. But Myron remembered what had made her so appealing in the first place was that she wasn't like the rest of the club bimbos. Myron couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt something toward Natalie and knew that after tonight he just wouldn't cut ties. He wanted to see her again. She was interesting to him and a mystery.

Myron Bolitar had done the hot sex because that's what both their intentions were tonight. Now it was time to do a things at least a little more... traditional. Give this night a little sense of it maybe. Abruptly Myron scooted away from her and got up to stand in front of the fire. He looked down at her and held out his hand with a warm smile but still a mischevious flicker in his eye.

"C'mon."

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

It was quick thinking, suggesting they do this again in a darker room. Even as a veiled suggestion, it was Natalie attempting to diffuse an awkward situation before it happened. She tried to remember a time when she had actually wanted to make love twice in the same night.

There were nights she had, regardless of what she wanted because she had a lover and a husband. There were nights in time immemorial when she had gone one, two, three rounds in college all over her Oxford flat, but it was so long ago that Natalie struggled to remember exactly how she’d felt back then. This was different. This was the opportunity to sleep with the same stranger twice in one night. The same, attractive stranger. It wasn’t as if Natalie would get that opportunity again anytime soon, if ever.

She looked over at Myron and though her stomach was cold and hollow when she suggested they make love again, when she met his eyes, something within her started to thaw out. There was a softness in Myron’s eyes that Natalie was equally unaccustomed to. She hadn’t seen such tenderness directed towards her in a very, very long time. Not without that tenderness being soured by something like pity or bitterness or both. Myron’s look was raw and it made Natalie’s breath catch strangely in the back of her throat. He stood up and became a silhouette against the dying fire. He offered Natalie his hand and a smile that glinted down at her, Cheshire Catlike because Natalie couldn’t see anything else of his face with the way the shadows fell across him.

"C'mon," said Myron and Natalie took his hand.

She pulled herself to her feet and she released his hand. The blanket she wore over her body fluttered to the ground as Natalie rested her hands on Myron’s shoulder. She kissed his mouth gently, tentatively, as if this was their first kiss and she wasn’t sure how he’d react. One soft kiss, pull away. Another, a little deeper, a little more steady. Pull away. Natalie was not shy. She could never afford to be. The heiress, the socialite, the politico’s wife… She wondered how much of that was just a tough shell to a soft underbelly. She didn’t want to know. That was her identity, the ice queen, the impenetrable fortress, the strong one. Instead, she let her mind go quiet and she kissed Myron a third time, shutting her eyes and running her fingers through his hair.

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar

Yet another victory dance ensued in Myron’s brain when she took his hand. You could never be so sure about things like this, and each win deserved its own moment of a ‘hell yes’. Natalie didn’t have to take his hand. She could have been totally teasing the hell outta’ him and kicked him out of her apartment. Talk about blue something, right?

He watched as she stood up silently, still smirking. She placed her hands on his shoulders and Myron tried so hard to fight the urge to not look at her now exposed body as the blanket went down to the ground, but there was only so much a man could do at this point. She was so in control of this one as of right now. When Natalie kissed his most with a little bit of hesitation, it made his bones ache in wanting. Oh, she was a little minx. She stopped and then kissed him again a little harder but he knew there was more power in those lips, he had felt them before. Then finally after another pull away which was like torture, she kissed him with more drive as her fingers ran up his hair.

Myron’s hands took the sides of her upper waist, his thumb smoothly grazing the bottom of her bra, bringing her closer against his bare chest so he could feel her. He deepened the kiss, moving his other hand up to cup the side of her face, and the other slid downward against her perfect hour glass curve to slip a single finger at the side of her underwear just grazing the skin of her upper thigh. Alright, so anymore of this play and they were so going to just fall to the living room floor which was so not what Myron Bolitar had in mind.

Growling audibly, Myron in one swift movement took his arms off of her and slid behind her to bend and pick her up in his arms and cradle her against his chest.


“I promise I’m not one of those cheesy romantic men who tend to think women cannot walk when they’re about to have sex,” He told her breathless. “I just have to have you now and we need to get in the bedroom."

Myron began walking straight but then stopped and looked around. He saw a door and turned to the left, but then maybe it was the right? Swiveling to the right he did a spin around to face the window. Alright, if they could make it to the bedroom without her getting motion sickness first that would be swell, wouldn’t it?

“Mind pointing me in the right direction?”

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Myron’s hands glided against her body. They felt firm and strong, not yet familiar, but increasingly so, and her skin tingled in response. And then, a growl erupted from him and suddenly, Natalie’s feet weren’t on the ground. They dangled in the air and her eyes went wide. She looked at Myron, surprised, by the gesture.

She hadn’t been carried over a threshold on her wedding night. She’d been pregnant at the time and she’d refused to do anything to endanger her unborn child.

Besides, she’d always thought of herself as the sort of woman who kept both feet planted firmly on the ground.

“I promise I’m not one of those cheesy romantic men who tend to think women cannot walk when they’re about to have sex,” He told her breathless. “I just have to have you now and we need to get in the bedroom."

Natalie nodded, struck silent by surprise still. She wasn’t usually rendered so speechless. But then Myron seemed to get turned around. He spun Natalie around a few times, as if he was looking for something.

That’s right. The bedroom.

“Mind pointing me in the right direction?”

“Down the hall. To the right,” Natalie said, pressing her lips to Myron’s neck, kissing lightly, drinking in his taste and scent. Tonight was all about firsts… and seconds.

[BEDROOM SCENE BLACKOUT]

The morning son crept into the bedroom window slowly. Natalie’s alarm clock buzzed its impersonal greeting. She reached over towards it and before her hand reached the nightstand, she realized with dull horror that she was alone. Her bleary eyes opened wider. She winced in the sunlight and had to blink a few times to adjust. The other side of her bed was mussed. Part of the cover sheet had folded up on itself, revealing the mattress below. The pillow at her side no longer smelled of stale Febreeze, but of sweat, sex, and something she recognized. If the dull ache between her hips wasn’t enough to tell her, the air in the room told Natalie that last night with Myron Bolitar had not been a particularly tantalizing fantasy. It had been real.

It had been real and he was gone.

She didn’t cry or call herself a worthless wh*re for falling for his innocent, goofy vibe last night. Instead, she laid back down on her back and stared at the ceiling dully. A half-smile pulled at her full lips. Men were all the same, weren’t they? None of them stayed around. They always had the next big case, the next election season, the next new woman to dash off to. Natalie was alone.

And that was okay.

Last night had been amazing.

She hadn’t physically felt much in the last year. Even hugs from her only son were these perfunctory, obligatory things that she could tell Damien gave grudgingly. Her parents had cut her from their lives. So, too had her sisters. And her ex-husband. Being alone was absolutely nothing new.

Being desired, even for one night, though, was. It had been two years since Natalie had sex. Four years since she’d made love. And now she’d had her first one night stand. There was no shame in that. It didn’t make her less human to be left behind; if anything, it was better this way because she didn’t have to make awkward small talk with someone she scarcely knew.

Although it was a pity. Small talk with Myron had easily been more enjoyable than her most recent deep conversations. She shuddered at the thought that she and Myron could have easily traded emotional scars last night. Even if he was gone now, last night had been the first good time Natalie had had since she could remember. She stretched and shut her eyes. She’d go back to sleep and maybe meet up with Damien for lunch in a few hours.

When she shut her eyes, though, the warm scent of something cooking woke her from her hazy contentedness. Natalie’s eyes snapped open and she sat up. Were olfactory hallucinations a real symptom, or was someone in her apartment?

She slid out of the bed soundlessly and threw on her bathrobe. The cotton was warm against her skin, which had erupted into goose-pimples. Natalie walked out of her room and down the hall. As she did, the sounds of someone moving around grew louder and louder.

When Natalie stood at the maw of the hallway, she could see a man with broad shoulders and tousled, dark hair standing in front of her stove. Cooking. A man was cooking in her kitchen. Natalie had scarcely—in twenty-three years of marriage—allowed a man to cook in her kitchen. But that was Wiltshire and that was Lucian.

This was Paris and this was Myron.

For a moment, the old Natalie reared her head. Natalie’s mouth fell open and the angry shout bubbled up in her chest. How dare he touch her things? How dare he invade her privacy? How dare he—

How dare he make her pancakes?

Myron had stayed. He didn’t abandon her, even if he would inevitably leave. He stayed and he was making breakfast. While he may have raided her pantry (unacceptable, by Natalie’s usual standards), he stayed to do something for her. Something no one had done for her since a disastrous Mother’s Day when Damien was nine and decided to wake Natalie up to eggs, kippers, and the Salisbury fire brigade.

Natalie shut her mouth and walked to the counter. She swallowed to regain composure and she leaned against the countertop, unnoticed (or at least, unacknowledged) and silent. Finally, after observing for a few moments, curiosity got the better of her.

“I didn’t know it was customary for the man to make breakfast after a one night stand.”

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar


It took a moment for him to realize where in the hell he was. It wasn’t ‘the usual’ for Myron Bolitar to end up in a stranger’s bed. Blinking repeatedly though, he couldn’t help but tug a smile to remember just where he was, and just what happened. Was the phrase, ‘mission accomplished’ inappropriate? Squinting at the sun, Myron looked over at saw Natalie Blackwood sleeping next to him. Her blonde hair tossed, yet framing her face in a way that Myron would imagine made other women pretty jealous someone could look that gorgeous in the morning. And Myron Bolitar was lying right next to the woman that could. Boo-Ya!

Alright, so now that he was finished acting like a virgin teenager who just got lucky the night before, it was time to gather his thoughts. Myron shifted in the bed, the pillows being really cozy and plush and the blankets having that feminine scent. Now it was the scent of both of them, and that reminded him of previous activities. Last night was the best sleep he had gotten in sometime. As sappy as this sounded, it was nice not waking up alone. Also, it didn’t hurt that last night was one of the hottest nights he had had in awhile. Is boo-ya a second time too much?

Slowly sitting up, Myron raked a hand through his hair and looked down at Natalie. He smirked to himself and watched her for a moment. The sun kissed her bare skin and the sheets gathered her up just enough so her silhouette remained. Natalie Blackwood was a complete stranger to him, yet physically they had something that sparked. The chitter-chatter was actually interesting, and the second time around was explosive. It was muscle aching worthy, and Myron was in pretty good shape, so that said something. But Natalie Blackwood? Myron Bolitar bit his lip trying not to grin, but who the hell was watching? Natalie was like a woman he had never been with before and that was needed more than anything.

Apparently they had both needed it. She hadn’t shared much with Myron, which who would with a complete stranger who you just had sex with, but from what Myron understood- which was very little- Natalie had some problemos in the relationship department as well. Which, perfect match right! Two relationsh*ts for the win! Myron Bolitar wouldn’t lie, he was curious. Was it his business? No. Did it make her much more human, relatable and interesting? Oh, absolutely.

Looking over his side of the bed Myron did a little wave to his pants. So, this was the part where he got up and left right? The walk of shame was all a part of the one night stand experience. What did he expect was going to happen the next day? Well, to be honest he didn’t really think that far into it since he was pretty distracted. Myron looked back at Natalie and something seemed off about just… leaving. Should he leave her a note? Nah, how dopey. What if he like, woke her up too? Only if he had a death wish; waking up a woman could be highly annoying. Plus, she was the other party participating in last night’s events… twice. She would need that sleep. Myron Bolitar could sit here fighting this battle of should he stay or should he go and how Natalie wouldn’t appreciate it- but truth be told, Natalie Blackwood probably cared less. Myron didn’t want to leave. That was the real reason.

So kill him, Myron was really made of mush.

Everything in Myron Bolitar’s brain was telling him that this wasn’t how it worked. As he put his pants back on, he felt this urge to just walk out of the front door because that’s what was suppose to be. They didn’t owe anything to one another and they had made it clear that it was a one night stand. But that just sounded slimy. Looking over at Natalie from the doorway, Myron knew that he would slap himself for just walking out at least without a goodbye or something for closure. Maybe exchanging phone numbers would be too much, but chatting for a second was at least a little more classy than just skipping out. At how good last night was, he probably would so be skipping. Which would make him look like one of those little tardos going to Disney World, so maybe it was a good choice to stay indoors for a while.

Tip toeing out of the bedroom, Myron Bolitar headed toward the kitchen. Alright, so he didn’t want to leave. Myron didn’t realize how much energy had up until this point as he began walking around. Whew, the after glow was fantastic! It’s like he had this boiling sparkly energy thing in the pit of his stomach! Wow, alright, maybe that was Toddy St. James possessing him? With this newfound energy, Myron Bolitar felt like running outside and for sure Hall and Oats would be blasting, and then all over Paris around him would bust out into some dance, and-

Myron paused at his stomach grumbling. Dam* when was the last time he had eaten? Myron Bolitar puckered his lips heading toward the kitchen-a territory he knew very well after last night. Maybe it wasn’t his place to go digging into her things, but what the hell? It would be a nice gesture, and he was sure she would be just as hungry as he was. If it had been four years since she had had a good intimate night with someone, it probably had been a long time coming since someone made her breakfast.

When Myron Bolitar opened the first cabinet and saw flour, that’s when it was all over. He was making Mickey Mouse pancakes! Clasping his hands, Myron began making the batter, finding just what he needed, though it took him a few cabinet tries. Grabbing a bowl and the rest, he began making the mix, turning on the stove and getting to work. Myron rarely had time to cook at his home for himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it. In fact, he wished he had someone to cook for and then he would probably do it more often. What good was cooking for one? Myron use to make Mickey Mouse pancakes for his grandma and grandpa, and he had made it a couple of times for Toddy who did not appreciate them because it was a ‘fugly mouse’ and Rachel who overly appreciated them and refused to eat them because Mickey Mouse was too adorable, and she would feel bad. He didn’t even try making it for Santiago. He was sure that his best friend didn’t even know who Mickey Mouse was, or if he did he had greatly underestimated him. Why did Myron surround himself with these people?

Then he grinned. Myron needed to thank his wingman.

Watching the batter bubble (try saying that six times fast) on the hot pan, Myron didn’t even have to turn to realize that Natalie Blackwood had awoken and was standing at the countertop. He played it off casually, acting as if he hadn’t noticed her to see what she would do. He whistled to himself, taking the spatula to check the bottom of the upcoming Mickey Mouse that totally looked like him too. It was always nerving when making these because it had the potential to turn out to look like a mutilated rhino, or something that would make a person lose their appetite. Myron made himself be distracted by making breakfast as Natalie, he could see from the corner of his eye, just stood their silently.

“I didn’t know it was customary for the man to make breakfast after a one night stand.”

Ah, it speaks!

Ouch. Alright, whatever. Myron Bolitar wouldn’t take that as an insult or a compliment. Whether she disapproved or liked the idea of him making them breakfast, the stove was on and there was no going back. Plus, how could she not resist this smell right now?

Looking over his shoulder, he smirked. “I must have left my one night stand instruction manual at home.”

Before he looked back at the pan, Myron looked at her for a moment longer. Wow. She was a babe-o-rama alright. Even in the morning sunlight and after an eventful night of hair dampening, out of breath happening activity, Natalie looked great all drowning in her robe. Myron Bolitar looked away though, not wanting to make it look obvious and really not wanting to burn Mickey Mouse’s face. That would have been rude.

“I figured you’d be hungry.” He explained to her, throwing the dish towel he over his bare shoulder, and flipping the pancake to be cooked on the other side. “And who doesn’t like a good Mickey Mouse pancake?”

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

“I must have left my one night stand instruction manual at home,” said Myron with a smirk.

Natalie stretched, cocking her head. It wasn’t just one night stands, though, that she didn’t expect to make her breakfast. It was men in general. She hadn’t met a one of them who was both a skilled and willing cook.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” Myron explained to her, throwing the dish towel he over his bare shoulder, and flipping the pancake to be cooked on the other side. “And who doesn’t like a good Mickey Mouse pancake?”

“Mickey Mouse pancake…?” she asked, coming around to stand beside him. She looked into the pan. One big circle topped by two little circles stared up at her. She smiled at it and something stirred in her stomach. At first, she thought it might have been hunger pains, but they stretched up into her chest and up even higher behind her eyes. Natalie sighed and tentatively rested her head against Myron’s shoulder. Her arm wrapped around him. She wasn’t going to cry over pancakes. She shut her eyes and sighed.

This was the nicest thing anyone had done for her in a very long time.

He was taking care of her, Myron. Natalie was unused to being taken care of. She was the caretaker. The wife, the mother, the lover. She asked after days and work, she fed three meals a day, she ironed shirts and starched collars, she broke fevers. She was a chef, a chauffeur, a nurse, a therapist, and a cleaning lady all rolled into one most days. And for once, someone else was picking up the slack. What little there was, now that it was just the two of them. She squeezed her eyes tighter. She could almost force herself to pretend that this was what being an empty-nester was meant to be. Standing in a kitchen, preparing breakfast for two.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her voice stuck in her throat and Natalie opened her eyes and, realizing how she sounded, she pulled away and opened her eyes, blinking a few times. She cleared her throat. “Is there anything you need a sous chef for?”

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar



“Mickey Mouse pancake?”

That’s when Myron Bolitar felt it. The lump in his throat, which felt like someone had just dropped a pebble down his mouth, a twist in his stomach, and a stillness that was unusual for the Myron species. He watched as Natalie approached the pan and his eyes rounded, looking at the back of her head. What was this feeling? Was he actually nervous? Myron Bolitar, the bold sarcastic *ss, was now second guessing his actions of this morning. This had to be popping some one nighter personal bubble here. Maybe she just wanted him to roll out of bed, making his side of the bed of course- what was he a Neanderthal, and go back home? Maybe Natalie was deeply and profoundly offended by Mickey the Mouse. Hey, some people could be. He was a cartoon that never wore a shirt. Wait, so then she must be offended by Winnie the Pooh, because that dude never wore pants. Was Natalie that insane? Was Myron Bolitar going insane?

… don’t answer that.

Myron almost twitched when Natalie rested her head on his bare shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. Myron Bolitar smirked to himself, instantly rolling his eyes at his own crazed brain, and relaxed. He looked down at the top of her tosseled blonde hair and had the urge to kiss the top of her head, but it wasn’t last night. So that was like, not allowed right? Myron Bolitar made a joke about the one nightstand instruction manual, but he really wished someone had written one.

They were silent for a second. Myron wondered what she was thinking about. Well, they were gazing over at the bubbling Mickey Mouse pancakes. Not much to really ponder over in a deep manner, right? Then his eyes zoned out and he began, well, thinking. He hadn’t made someone breakfast like this in a long time. At least, not a woman. Toddy didn’t count as at least this type of woman. It was nice, and it felt good to do something for someone. It felt nice to have someone’s arms around his bare stomach, and to have a freak out moment because he was so nervous they wouldn’t like something. It wasn’t an unknown feeling. He once all had that and more. But it was a feeling missed.

Holy hell, Mickey Mouse pancakes had a power.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm.” Myron noised with a tight smile, getting out of this Mickey-Mouse- pancake-deep- thought- trance. He hadn’t even realized how Natalie’s voice sounded.

“Is there anything you need a sous chef for?”

Chuckling, Myron flipped the finished creation of mouse onto the plate, that took him a eight cupboards, stubbing his toe, hitting his head on a lower cabinet- to find. Turning to her with the plate, he quirked his eyebrow.

“Well, Mickey Mouse isn’t Mickey Mouse without a face.” He grinned, his eyes lighting up at her. “Got anything to add, my saucy sous chef?"

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie was determined not to cry. Who did that after a one night stand? Who did that out of happiness after a one night stand?

The unhinged. The desperate. The lonely.

Natalie refused to be among some nameless, faceless mass of unloved women. She refused to break down in front of Myron Bolitar, who was nice enough to not only stay but to also cook for her. So Natalie did what she always did to shake the welled up feeling in her head.

She focused her energy into activity. Anything would do. Gardening had been a favorite back in Wiltshire. Her rosebushes and peonies had won local prizes; no one questioned her dedication to that garden. No one thought for even half a second that it was an outlet for a frustrated, bitter housewife. Cooking was another favorite distraction. She found herself not just hoping Myron said he needed her help, but desperately praying he did.

“Well, Mickey Mouse isn’t Mickey Mouse without a face,” Myron said with a chuckle and a grin. He looked at her with bright eyes. “Got anything to add, my saucy sous chef?"

“I’ll see what I can do,” Natalie said, sliding away from Myron and moving to the refrigerator. The cold burned her face just enough to send a calming shiver down her spine. She rifled through the shelves before procuring a carton of blueberries.

“We might have to get creative,” she told him, putting the blueberries onto the counter. She looked back into the icebox. “But somehow, I think we’ll manage.”

Blueberries would make for good eyes. Natalie reached around the milk and pulled out some cream. She’d need a bowl and a whisk, some sugar, maybe vanilla. She went to the cupboard beside Myron and pulled down a mixing bowl. From a drawer, she grabbed the whisk. The spice cabinet offered her vanilla and sugar. And then Natalie set to making whipped cream.

After all, cooking was an art. And if Natalie knew anything about art, it was that the artist needed all the right tools.

“So,” she asked while stirring her ingredients together. “Where did you learn to make Mickey Mouse pancakes?”

[Deleted]

Myron Bolitar


“I’ll see what I can do.”

Myron watched as she went to the fridge. He smirked, setting down the plate on the counter, and leaning back against it with crossed arms, watching her. Alright, so maybe he was admiring the view from when she bent down to get something, but he was a man and she was a gorgeous woman. Need he say more?

“We might have to get creative.”

Natalie told him, going back to the fridge. Myron took this moment to pop a blueberry in his mouth, because he was eight years old and apparently that was the cookie jar.

“But somehow, I think we’ll manage.”

Myron Bolitar was watching with a grin and amused eyes. There seemed to be this determination that was fitting for Natalie Blackwood, and she began getting out ingredients, an idea sparking in that head of hers. His grin broadened when she reached up at the cabinet next to him, being able to smell her and also smelling a faint Myron scent in the mix. He liked the closeness and he bit his lower lip. When she slammed the cabinet and went to the counter, he was thrown out of his, erm, manly trance. The woman was on a mission. Myron just watched as she threw everything together, but mostly just watched her. With the flour, milk, and sugar, he only guess what she was making and was very pleased that Mickey Mouse would not be shafted into being a grotesque looking one.

“So, where did you learn to make Mickey Mouse pancakes?”

Myron Bolitar was thrown off. Which, why the hell right? A simple question with a simple answer, but it wasn’t like that. Myron’s mouth hinged open for a minute, scooting slightly away from his leaning position next to her, and his eyes looked at the counter. Say something! Hell, start singing a song! But he was speechless. It was as if the question had knocked him off his rocker and left him brainless. The thing was, Myron hadn’t thought of that question or that answer in a long time. A chill ran up his bare back and it suddenly had gotten freezing.

“Um…”

Myron Bolitar, ladies and gentlemen, the literary scholar.

When was the last time he mentioned them out loud? Lightly he dabbed it with Madeleine, but she knew that it was sensitive. Santiago? Never really… Toddy never talked about it, because he didn’t like ‘the sad look’ on Myron, it apparently didn’t flatter him. Christ, Myron couldn’t even remember the last time he mentioned them to himself.

He stared at the counter for a while. He knew the answer. It made something in his chest tighten. Wow, he hadn’t thought about them in a long time. Purpose, of course. Of course, Natalie had no clue that Myron was going to turn into some silent tardo, with this stupid dramatic soap opera look in his eyes. Some things just hit, you know? They hit hard, so a person just pushes it way back. Then when it randomly comes back, like if someone asks a question like so, then it all comes hitting harder. Healthy? Absolutely not. This was like, not what should be happening this morning though. Myron Bolitar tried to kick himself out of this funk, but he wasn’t sad or about to cry. He was past that for the most part. He was just remembering because memories were all that he had left.

“My parents did.” He finally said, and when he said it out loud, Myron was shocked. He was smiling and he felt warm. Myron Bolitar stood up, leaning against the corner of the counter, and slid his hands into his pockets, smirking and thinking back. Suddenly in his mind he wasn’t in Natalie’s kitchen, but his old one in New York City…

It was downtown, and it had a lot of windows. Every Sunday they made Mickey Mouse pancakes, and regardless of whoever else made them in the world, Myron’s dad’s were ‘famous’. His mom would make the face décor, and Myron would sit there with Win slamming their forks into the wooden table like little heathens, always waiting for his dad to threaten them with the spatula. That was the best part! Myron remembered sitting there every Sunday, the way his parents would work together in the kitchen, and think that he wanted something just like that. Not just a little like it, but the entire thing, because what his parents had was the real thing. Interesting thought for a little goober when they were suppose to be thinking about boobies, right? His parents always got into this flour fight, and even when his mom had flour on her nose and hair, and she had her morning glasses on, she was the most beautiful woman Myron had ever seen. He could always tell his dad thought so too.

Myron was caught in this memory…

“Oh God..” Myron laughed, his eyes looking at Natalie but not at her. “My dad use to wear this apron,” He told her with a grin. “it said ‘kiss the c*ck’”.

Then he caught himself and jolted. Bolitar humor was not for everyone. “I’m sorry,” He told her, wanting to laugh at the memory, but realizing maybe for a woman it wasn’t the funniest thing. After all, his mom did usually slap his *ss for wearing it. But then again, that could have been not because she was angry. Oh, the Bolitars. Not really like the Beavers. At all. Of course Myron had to just mention that to Natalie.

“It’s cooky. I know.”

Myron missed that cooky.

He attempted to switch the subject, but he was frozen against the countertop lost in thought.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

She’d hit a nerve. Natalie heard her inner voice swear so violently, she was almost certain she actually had sworn. Of course she hadn’t. Natalie didn’t swear often and when she did, it was only when the man really had it coming. The memory of Damien’s coming-out party and her row with Lucian came to mind. It wasn’t a ladylike thing to do, swearing. And moreover, had Myron asked Natalie the exact same question, she, too would be at a loss.

After all, she’d learned to cook to appease a now-grown son and now-divorced husband.

She wondered—and was that hope fluttering around in her chest?—if Myron was a single father.

Or a not-so-single father. She knew how that went, too.

But the idea of Myron as a father made him oddly appealing, More than Natalie already found him, which scared her. There was this weird craving in her stomach unrelated entirely to food or sex. She just didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to know there were other people out there like her. She wanted to feel less bad about sleeping with a stranger because they were both in that weird, lost place.

“My parents did,” Myron said after long last.

And for a fraction of a second, Natalie’s heart sank. Being taught by his parents didn’t preclude the possibility of Myron as a single-father. After all, if you got technical, Natalie’s mother had taught her to cook. But she didn’t say that anymore. She would say something like, “I used to make this for my son all the time”. And so, too, would Myron, if he had been a father.

A trance-like look overtook Myron’s features as he spoke.

“Oh God...” he said, laughing. “My dad use to wear this apron. It said ‘kiss the c*ck’”.

Natalie stared. She stopped whipping the cream together.

“Benjamin! I’m calling your mother this instant!”
“Don’t think I didn’t hear that, William!”
“What was that word, Damien Alexandre?”

. “I’m sorry,” Myron said quickly. “It’s cooky. I know.”

“It’s… different,” Natalie said. The tone of her voice shocked her. She expected cold tightness. Instead, wistfulness.

Cooky wasn’t a word in the Blackwood vocabulary. Her father would never dare wear something as womanly as an apron. He certainly would never wear something emblazoned with “c*ck” on it. Even when she was grown and married, her image of what made a man a man was fixed into place. She shut her eyes. She tried to imagine Anthony in a “Kiss the C*ck” apron. She imagined Lucian. She imagined her father. She giggled.


Natalie’s eyes flew open and her hand covered her mouth.

“Sorry,” she said, sobering up quickly and returning to her stirring. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”