In the Interlude

Chapter 38 - The Little Things

"Not me, mate," said Cavill. "Weddings are the best place to find me a plus one, at least for the night." He chuckled, turning his attention to the pretty waitress and asking her for a round of gin and tonic.

"What about you?"

Tom hesitated a second. "Maybe."

"Is it that actress we see you with everywhere on the internet? What's her name again?"

Tom shook his head, involuntarily leaning back. "Vanessa? Nooo."

"So there's someone, isn't it?" teased Cavill, now interested in the conversation happening in front of him.

"Tommy boy, you should see your face right now. Come on. Spill the beans."

Tom swallowed his gin and tonic in two mouthfuls. He brushed his thumb over his lips, feeling the alcohol warm his stomach. "Okay, well, I've been seeing someone. But..." he paused, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. "I don't know if she would like to be my plus one." Tom shrugged his shoulders. He really didn't know.

Paul and Cavill knew better than to press him for more details and Tom was secretely thankful. He loved his friendship with these two because they knew each other so well - well before he had become Tom Hiddleston, the Hollywood actor.  With them, nothing was second-guessed or misinterpreted or calculated. He knew he could trust them with his own life but in this case, he needed first to make sure he and Aïcha were on the same page.

By the time Tom made it home, Aïcha was in the kitchen helping herself to a generous serving of ice cream.

"So, how was your evening, darling?" he said, kissing her on the lips.

"It was, hmm..." she pondered for a moment, licking the spoon in her mouth. "It was interesting," she finally answered, unsuccessfully hiding a smile.

"What was interesting about it?" he asked, leaning back on the wooden countertop with one elbow. Her face and the tip of her ears turned red, her eyes unable to meet his. "You know I'm pestering you until you tell me," he added.

She sighed, her eyes focused on the bowl of ice-cream. "So, the girls got a bit tipsy and, well, we played a game they call, euh, Battle of Brits."

"Battle of the Brits?"

She nodded, still not looking at him. "It's the uncensored version of Kiss, Marry, Kill with hot British actors."

"You mean Fuck, Marry, Kill?"

She nodded biting her lip. "And you, sir, were in pole position. It was crazy." She giggled, miming an explosion with her hand.

"Really? Do tell."

"Well, we wrote down the names of hot British actors which we put on the table. Then each one of us, in turn, picked three names answering the three questions. It was weird, I couldn't write down your name or pick you for that matter. I thought everyone would see right through me."

"They would see what?" he asked, raising one of his eyebrows. He liked making her slightly embarrassed. And she clearly was.

"That I am in fact sleeping with mister Tom Hiddleston." 

So you're deliberately embarrassing me, she told herself. Two can play this game.

"Anyway, one of the girls has a serious crush on you. She said, and I quote, he could practice his snake hips on me whenever he wants." The kitchen resounded with his distinctive laugh, his eyes creasing around the corners, his hand clutching his chest. "If you're interested, I can give you her phone number. She is an open bar she said. Twenty-four-seven."

"Very tempting," he said mockingly adjusting his glasses, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "What about you? Who did you pick?"

"Marry Colin Firth, obviously. Hmm, Kill Sean Connery..." She closed her eyes and crinkled her nose. "I know, sorry James Bond!" Then she paused, and scooped up some of the ice-cream, painstakingly prolonging the silence. "But the, well, you know, the F-word part? Idriss Elba. Most definitely."

"My girlfriend has a crush on old Idriss. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Are you by any chance jealous, mister Hiddleston?" Aïcha asked, putting down the bowl and spoon in the sink and turning slowly to where Tom was standing. He straightened his posture as she put her hands on his waist.

"The only crush I have is on you," she whispered close to his ear. He could feel her breath on the side of his neck.

Aïcha eased back and her hand snaked around the nape of his neck. He drew her closer and pressed his lips against hers and eased his tongue inside her mouth. 

Cold. Her mouth was cold and chilled and tasted of peanut butter and banana. But the feel of her curvy body under his hands was warm and hot.  

He groaned and lifted her, sitting her on the edge of the wooden counter. She closed her eyes as he opened her legs, nestling his hips between her thighs.

"I love it when you wear a dress," he said. She stopped breathing for a second as he touched the underside of her knees with his long fingers. "It makes it easy for me to do this." His fingers skimmed over her thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Everything around them was oh so quiet. Aïcha could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She could hear the sound her dress made being pushed further up her thighs, the clink of his belt as he loosened it, their uneven breath. She finally opened her eyes, her gaze finding Tom's.

Her lips were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed, her eyes hazed with desire. Desire for him, only him. He was lost. So lost in her. "Have I told you lately how beautiful you look?"

"Not enough," she smiled, putting her hand around his neck and pushing herself further into him.

"I want you. I want every piece and bit of you," he said, lifting her off the counter and taking a firm grip on her hand.

His words went pass her mind and nested themselves in the pit of her stomach. She followed him upstairs as if it was the most natural place for them to be. Aïcha also wanted Tom. She wanted every piece and bit of him.