Chapter 1: Getting A Nice Girl To Bed

"Fuck you." 

Mario gagged, the martini cocktail trickling down his reddened face. The rather youngish waitress gave him her middle finger, as she strode away with an empty glass in her hands. 

"Fuck you, you dirty big thing." She yelled back in a strong French accent. 

"What did you say?" 

Wait, Did he hear right? 'You dirty big thing?'

He stood there, trying to understand what just happened to him. He instinctively went after her, split second later, but was pushed back by some unfamiliar faces in the bar. 

For starters, Mario was a six-foot-five, broad shouldered, well-chiseled slithering god.  

Slithering was Jack's way of qualifying him, because for one, he always had a way with women, plus he had some sexual appeal to his person, more than his best friend ever would. 

"Slithering." Mario chuckled again, savoring the sound of the words in his dirty, gorgeous head. 

His smile soon disappeared as he watched the girl swing her finger again in his direction. No one had ever called him 'a dirty big thing' until now. 

"You just wait." He said to himself, and hoped for a moment to charge at her. 

There was a little crowd already gathered at the entrance of Cafe Mericourt. This place had many more customers at night, but maybe right now, they just seemed to pique an interest in him. 

For the life of him, he wouldn't ever imagine someone throwing a drink in his face- a bloody stranger-waitress for that matter, and for what? 

He charged towards her again, and this time, he was able to reach her. 

"Repeat what you said earlier." He charged, menacingly.

"Yes, I did call you a dirty big thing. What are you gon' do about it, silvous plait?" She said to him again, But he could not raise his hands. 

He stared at her for a long while, but was soon interrupted by the barkeeper's voice. 

"I need an explanation right now. What is going on here?" He said, with an air of authority that silenced the whole room in a jiffy. 

The waitress put her hands behind her, and shivered, nervously, "I am sorry boss, it was a mistake. I was going to..." 

"To the lounge!" He cut in, and the girl stormed off after him, all of her boldness suddenly melting away. 

 Mario sighed, annoyed at the interruption. He  needed to solely focus on the raven-haired beauty who just caused a scene. 

"Impressionnante." He mumbled in French, following her every move. He strangely could not bring himself to use more intense adjectives. 

As he dusted alcohol off his body-the leftover that she had poured on him, he looked up to see one of the people, in front of him. 

"Hey, don't be mad, okay? She's probably just having a bad day, and is taking out her frustration on you. She's usually a nice girl." 

Mario smirked, and thanked the man. If only he knew that that was not the case.

  If only this man knew that, that was the first interesting thing that had happened to him in a long while. 

"I can persuade Mr Arden to compensate you...we all saw how rude she was being to you." The man went on, and on, and Mario started to run out of patience. 

He had the unholy urge to slap the stranger to silence, but he didn't. 

Instead, he followed the waitress with his eagle eyes, her words ringing in his ears. She was now back to business, on the other end of the bar, serving two Mexican-looking men, and posing with a leg, like a supermodel. 

One of the men seemed to be trying his impossible best to make advances. 

Because, well, who wouldn't? This girl, whoever the fuck she was, had 'sexy' written all over her, that is to say, attractive in every sense.

 Though odd, it only made her ten times hotter that she had dared him to do his worst. 

He had never seen such boldness in all the women he fucked. 

"Fuck you too, you dirty big thing." Mario re-played her words in his head, and chuckled hard.

Va te faire foutre aussi.

There was something sensual about a gorgeous girl cussing him in French. 

Did she not realize what a suggestive statement it was, or did she mean it literally?

First, he had been mad, but once he saw her face, it had sent ripples of excitement down his stomach, and it had only taken a ounce of discipline to not try to touch her delicate skin right there. 

"Why are you chuckling?" The stranger jerked him out of his little daydream. 

Why wouldn't this old man just shut the fuck up and mind his business? 

"I'm sorry, were you still talking?" Mario questioned, pretending to have been absentminded. 

 The crowd that gathered earlier have now dispersed, one after the other, and it seemed they all agreed he must be really crazy. Like who sits still, and has a good laugh, after having alcohol poured all over their starched shirt?

"I am telling you Belle is a nice girl. Everyone in the neighbourhood knows her, she's very friendly too, so far." 

"I don't like nice." Mario deadpanned, and got on his feet. Belle was moving away from the Mexican men now. 

Belle. So that was her name. No one has ever borne a name that suit them so well as she. 

"Pardon?" 

The man, who had a rather queer hat on his head, now pulled it off to reveal a balding oval-shaped head. It was more like he lost half of his hair in a battle. Take for instance a battle of gossip.

He must not mind his business all that much, like now. 

"No, you excuse me, and try get yourself some life." Mario spat, and strode away at once, without waiting to see the man's reaction. He must have been mortified. 

At this point, Mario was sick and tired of people telling him what to do. 

Belle was long gone by the time he reached the end of the bar. He looked around for her, and it didn't take him too long to find her outside, making a quick call. 

She seemed to be looking for him as well. 

"Hold on, okay? Je t'aime aussi. I will be with you shortly." She said, and hanged up. Mario was leaning on a long rail outside the bar, when she turned to him. 

Now that he looked closely, he could see her eyes were a tad too green, and incredibly sexy. She was dressed in what seemed to be her most decent dress, and yet, all he could think of was bending her over the rail, and giving her all his evil fantasies. 

He knew it was wrong of him, but he would choose that any day, any time over his usual sulking around, and drinking away his miserable existence. 

"Hello?" She muttered, in a sing-song, yet intimidating voice, that instantly warned him that she was far from 'nice' as opposed to what the stranger said. 

"Well...hey?"

 Mario lost his tongue for a second. He was never like this with women, even women much more advanced in years, and experience than this girl was. 

He could easily ask them for whatever he wanted, without first making a conversation. All he needed was to do was make a move, and they'd be the ones pleading for more. 

"Your boss didn't fire you, eh?" He found himself saying. 

"About pouring that drink on you, sorry, but I am not going to apologize." She said, and paused for effect, "You deserved it." 

"I don't know why you think so, but I really don't care about that." Mario found himself saying to this girl who must be at least, ten years younger than him.

"Well, you were staring at my boobs. I think you must be a pervert. Un littéralement gros pervers." 

She said, in the most adorable manner ever, and Mario could not hold back his laugh. 

 He did not remember ever staring at anyone since he walked in. He had not even noticed her until she came to his seat. 

Belle scoffed, and looked back at the window of the lounge, obviously checking if it was safe to lash out again. 

Then, she said to him,

"You looked scary in there...like you had ulterior motives. I don't think I should apologize for being frightened by you.Tu es un gros pervers!""

If only this girl knew how much of a shadow he already was, of himself. There was absolutely no energy left in him to ogle girls, or frighten them. 

All he did was fuck and cuss them, and forget their faces the next morning. 

He had literally come to the bar, to avoid moping around the house, over the one problem in his life.

"I think you should be more polite, young lady." He deadpanned, his laugh disappearing from his face. His cheeks reddened from all the booze he had, and he badly needed to stay still or he would stagger. 

"No, you be a little responsible, and go on ahead and start a life or something," She paused, and moved closer to his ears, "Be a real man." She whispered and walked away, with a smirk on her face. 

"Hey, it's not my fault that you find me so intimidating!" 

Mario yelled after her, feeling pins and needles vibrating through his body. 

Why did he have to be a bloody coward this night? Why would he let her accuse him wrongly and get away with it? 

"Shit." He cussed above his breath. The outside of the bar was dimming, or maybe he was really tipsy for he could hardly stay still. 

Maybe he was not just mad, because he was drunk, or because she was beautiful 

"Lucky, lucky you." He whispered, realising that it was for the fact that there was a bigger thing to be mad about. 

He had the access to a great life, but he had to live someone else's life in exchange for it.

"Shit." He cussed again, staggering towards his car. He wondered if it would have felt nicer, if the barkeeper, Mr Arden simply apologized to him himself. 

If that would have made taking over his parents' Aubert's Global Hospital, in the heart of Paris, Hôpital mondial Aubert, a lot less demanding. 

Mario sat at his wheel, letting the awful feelings return to his being. His parents were the cause of his misery. 

They didn't even care that he did not major in health or medicine in college. They didn't care that he did not give two fucks about getting employed, or getting married for that matter. 

He sat there, and for some reason swore to get Belle to bow to him. 

He was not going to be a coward. Maybe he needed to come off 'nice' for a first. 

"Smile more, clear the air, tell her a little about you...get to know her..." Mario rambled on. 

He was not going to return to his empty apartment, without her. 

He was sure that she was the type who had an inkling of all the tactics he liked to see women do with him, because for starters, she looked like a retired stripper. 

No simple girl would have sass, and sexual appeal all in one. 

Besides, for some odd reason, she seemed like the only one who could calm him. Whether she liked it or not. 

Mario fetched his phone and dialed his best friend's number. Jack always had the best answer.

 As usual, Jack had a different girl over, as he could hear a strange moan in the background, coupled with his own groaning. 

It was one thing that had kept them together for years-their promiscuous lives. 

"Timeout, buddy." Jack groaned. "Will holla you later, I am busy." 

"Hey, Jack, wait..I swear to hell, it's gon' be a quick question." 

He could hear the lady's desperate pleading, in the background, as skins merged in utter unholiness, and he strangely felt some heat surge into his stomach. 

How possible was it for him to make Belle whimper underneath his body like that? 

"You got into jail or something?" Jack groaned again, his voice fading into the background. 

There was soft music playing, which perfectly resonated with the ongoing situation. 

"Hey, Jack, that better not be happening in the apartment!" No matter how close they've been, Mario didn't want him over that night, and definitely not with his whore. 

"I'm at her place, dude. What's up? You in trouble?" 

"No, listen, what would you do to get a 'nice' girl to bed?" Mario asked, desperately, his eyes never leaving the entrance of the bar. If Belle was going to come out, it would be any moment from now. 

It was getting pretty dark. 

"What do you mean nice?" Jack's agonising voice roared back.

"I don't know. Everyone thinks she's gentle and friendly, but I would say, she's ridiculously bold for her age." 

"I see. Women like that usually have something eating at them. Make that your soft landing space, and comfort her or something." Jack said, and that was the last Mario heard of him. 

"How do you mean?"

"Hello?" 

"Jack?"

"Shit!"

He had to hang up himself when the other end stopped responding to him. 

Comfort her? 

Jack said to comfort her. But, she had to be in distress to receive comfort, right? 

Like the determined fool he was, Mario went back towards the bar, to see for himself. 

 As fate would have it, the café was nearly empty, and all he had to do was call her name, and she appeared before him, like a genie. 

But she was not as daring as before, surprisingly. She looked a little sad.

"How did you know my name, you pervert?" She yelled, and someone whom he quickly identified as the Mr Arden, poked his head out of a room. 

Mario had to quieten her quickly, before her boss thought he was a threat. 

"One of the customers told me. Don't be scared, I'd rather eat shit than do a background research on anyone. I'm not that diligent." 

"I see. What do you want then?" 

"I was just cooling off." Mario answered shyly. 

She nodded unconvincingly, and started to walk out of the building.

 It was then he noticed, with the streetlights' reflection that, she had been crying. Her green eyes were a little bloodshot. Belle stared at her wristwatch nervously for split minutes. She seemed to be waiting for her ride or something. 

At that moment, he wanted to touch her and see if she was real. 

Instead, he asked, "Are you okay?"  

And her next statement was like a fantasy come true. 

"Can you take me home, please? I live just downtown Rue de la Folie, about twenty minutes ride from here." She pleaded, explaining vigorously. "Sorry I called you a pervert earlier. " 

"Fine, but are you okay?" He asked, helping her to the passenger seat immediately. 

"Sorry i poured that drink on you, I think i must have lost my mind for a minute." She said instead, and Mario could sense the sincerity and innocence in her voice. 

"It's okay. We can change things."

Trying to accept the twist of events, Mario asked again, "Are you okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She said, dabbing at her eyes. "I need to be home." 

"D'accord, suivez-moi."

As soon as she settled in his car, Mario breathed in a sigh of accomplishment, and stole a look at her. Goodness, she smelt and looked so good.

But It seemed like she had a big issue on her mind that couldn't get solved with beauty.

"Wanna give me a hint though? I mean..I'm concerned, you know." He enquired. 

"My mother has cancer." She deadpanned, and tears started to roll down her beautiful eyes. "I hoped it wasn't, but now, Zut," she paused after cussing, "the doctor says she has only a few months to live." 

"Do you have anyone to stay with, at home?" Mario asked flatly, failing woefully at sympathising. 

'She is in distress. I should comfort her.' That was all that rang in his head. 

"Louis is there." She said, and shut up for the rest of the journey, leaving him to wonder who Louis must be. 

The way she said it made Mario so sure that Louis wasn't just her brother. Or father. 

The drive down the street was smooth, and many times, he contemplated swerving in the opposite direction towards his house. 

Or taking her in the backseat, and making her accept it as a comfort. 

As soon as he got to the house she described to him, he touched her cheek and wiped off some residue of tears. 

"Merci," She thanked him, and he wished she would let him do more. 

The women he fucked in the past knew it. He didn't just give them orgasm-but every other thing that brought relief, followed. 

Mario remembered his twenty three year old self boasting before a bunch of women in a club in Texas, that his 'sperm is rich' in every sense of the word. He had ended up getting bundled out by a couple of men for being 'a social nuisance.'

"Is this not where you live?" He asked her softly, when she would not get down. 

"It is." She whispered, and stared at the eerie-looking bungalow in the dark, her fingers tugging at her little dress. "I don't want to go in there." 

Mario held her trembling hands, and said, "That's all right, Belle. I have a better place in mind." He didn't need to ask why she would not want to go home. 

He then turned back towards the direction of his own apartment, before she would change her mind. 

Jack was right. Comforting a 'nice' girl could get her to bed.