felix felicis chess
Mar. 13th, 2006 03:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321By the time Felix returned to the lobby, the sun was high and the tops of cars in the street's canyon white with its reflection. The croissants were wilting in their paper bag.
The lift went ding. Upstairs, on the penthouse terrace, the scenario had changed.
Two people were sitting under the umbrella, on folding chairs at the garden table. They were Barbara and a man. They were playing chess. They were both naked, except for their sunglasses. Those they wore on their noses.
"Oh," said Felix, soggy paper in his hand.
"Felix? Hello," said Barbara and advanced her rook by two squares.
The man was inordinately beautiful. He was not as beautiful as Barbara but it was the same kind of beauty. His hair was not as sunkissed-blonde as hers, not as wheaten, paler, more flaxen. It was not as long as Barbara's, either, not as lush, though almost. It stood around his head in a wild halo. The sun glinted off its tips as he lifted his head and slid his glasses onto his forehead and said,
"Hello."
"This is Leon," Barbara said, in her slow sphinx's voice. "And this is Felix."
"Pleased to meet you," Leon said. His voice suited his name, a low savannah rumble.
A drop of sweat glistened on his chest, in the dip between his nipples. A gold earring glistened in his earlobe. His pubic hair curled in on itself. He was perfect.
He was perfect for Barbara.
Felix sucked in his breath.
Leon stretched and smiled a lazy smile. "Felix," he said. "You any good at chess?"
The question portended something but Felix could not figure out what. There seemed to be a second, unasked question swinging along behind the spoken one, as if this wasn't about chess. Nor was the accompanying look a particularly chess-like look.
"No," Felix said. "I'm hopeless."
Leon smiled again, but a different sort of smile, as if responding to the underlying symbolism which Felix had not intended nor divined.
Thus it was that their connection was from the outset mired in a misunderstanding.
"Check, by the way," Barbara said, slicing the air with logic. "Check and mate."
Nothing glistened on Barbara. Her face was cool in the shade of the umbrella. Two tall glasses collected perspiration next to the chessboard, amidst the graveyard of discarded pieces. No breeze made the sunshade flap.
Felix looked at the board.
Checkmate. In one rook's move.
Of course.
Jets left slipstreams in the glassy sky.
The lift went ding. Upstairs, on the penthouse terrace, the scenario had changed.
Two people were sitting under the umbrella, on folding chairs at the garden table. They were Barbara and a man. They were playing chess. They were both naked, except for their sunglasses. Those they wore on their noses.
"Oh," said Felix, soggy paper in his hand.
"Felix? Hello," said Barbara and advanced her rook by two squares.
The man was inordinately beautiful. He was not as beautiful as Barbara but it was the same kind of beauty. His hair was not as sunkissed-blonde as hers, not as wheaten, paler, more flaxen. It was not as long as Barbara's, either, not as lush, though almost. It stood around his head in a wild halo. The sun glinted off its tips as he lifted his head and slid his glasses onto his forehead and said,
"Hello."
"This is Leon," Barbara said, in her slow sphinx's voice. "And this is Felix."
"Pleased to meet you," Leon said. His voice suited his name, a low savannah rumble.
A drop of sweat glistened on his chest, in the dip between his nipples. A gold earring glistened in his earlobe. His pubic hair curled in on itself. He was perfect.
He was perfect for Barbara.
Felix sucked in his breath.
Leon stretched and smiled a lazy smile. "Felix," he said. "You any good at chess?"
The question portended something but Felix could not figure out what. There seemed to be a second, unasked question swinging along behind the spoken one, as if this wasn't about chess. Nor was the accompanying look a particularly chess-like look.
"No," Felix said. "I'm hopeless."
Leon smiled again, but a different sort of smile, as if responding to the underlying symbolism which Felix had not intended nor divined.
Thus it was that their connection was from the outset mired in a misunderstanding.
"Check, by the way," Barbara said, slicing the air with logic. "Check and mate."
Nothing glistened on Barbara. Her face was cool in the shade of the umbrella. Two tall glasses collected perspiration next to the chessboard, amidst the graveyard of discarded pieces. No breeze made the sunshade flap.
Felix looked at the board.
Checkmate. In one rook's move.
Of course.
Jets left slipstreams in the glassy sky.