KING OF WISHFUL THINKING
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Lothar Matthaeus/Alexandra Kuszlik, implied Mattheus/Klinsmann
Disclaimer: Inspired by this photo, and I'm not implying more than 'Bild' does :) I still don't know people mentioned in this story and I still hope it isn't true. The plot is still only my fantasy
Summary: Evening at the party.
Author's notes, previous chapters and music here
Timeline for the series is here
King of Wishful Thinking
Alexandra. Her name is Alexandra.
Curtains – so red the color is blinding. Her dress – black, no originality here. Wine – such a dark shade of red that it looks like black when she turns the glass in her fingers.
“Where did you like playing the most?” As if she cares.
Look at her throat, then lower the gaze, then look at her face again.
“You’re beautiful”. That she is.
She laughs and throws her head back, giving him a better view.
“It’s worth double, coming from you”, in a playful tone. He laughs too and moves a bit closer, so his leg is touching hers under the table now. She pretends not to notice.
Familiar game, repeated so many times. He’s learned every move long time ago.
Look at her face again, meeting her eyes and suddenly turning away, watching the dancefloor as if there’s nothing more interesting in the World now.
“I’m not going to dance today”, and look at her face again, smiling a little hesitantly.
She covers his hand with hers, and it looks so… Photographers surely won’t miss this chance. Good so – helping people in their work is always a pleasure.
“I’m not in the mood for this music”, she’s practically purring.
The wine tastes a little bitter, some hint of fruits is present too. Her glass almost falls, and he catches it, touching her fingers again as if by accident.
“So, your future plans…”
Her lips are slightly parted, and she sighs before answering the question.
“I’m thinking about acting, and we’ll see”.
Smile at her again, still touching her hand. The evening is coming to its end. Thankfully.
“I’m happily married, and there’s nothing to add”, and the reporter smirks in reply. If there’s no article in ‘Bild’ later today, it’ll be one of the greatest surprises in his life. Good so – journalists should not be left without sensations.
The game is so very familiar – leaving the party at different times, checking in at the hotel – again at different times, and meeting again in her room, to continue their own private party.
Her lips taste of chocolate and lipstick. Black silk falls to the floor, leaving her almost naked. Beautiful body, beautiful. Her skin is soft and tender. His shirt lands on top of her dress.
The bed is large enough for them to play. She’s a screamer, he likes it like that.
She is skilful in many ways, not just in her profession… She surely knows what she does.
He presses her to the mattress, filling her, taking her, making her lose herself in pleasure, oh yes, he knows how it is done. She surely won’t have reasons to complain about this evening.
He too isn’t going to regret it.
The room is dark, and the bed is soft and warm. He’s slowly running his fingers through the blond strands of her hair, listening to her even breathing. A one-night-stand. Maybe an affair. Maybe a long affair. Nothing more.
There’s no danger for him of falling in love.
He’s done it already.
Long time ago.