The Garden
The Garden
A single, beautiful girl with a grand...fortune, must be in want of a man.
Or at least his attention.
That's all Blair could think when she caught sight of her long-legged, blonde bombshell best friend across the terrace. Tipping the class of orange juice, secretly mixed with a healthy dose of vodka, all the way back, Blair enjoyed the burn of acid and alcohol. Disposing of her glass, she wished she could surrender a great many other things she no longer needed so easily. It wasn't her, to drink like this, but she was ready for summer to be over.
That included Lily van der Woodsen's annual garden party. Blair saw the hostess in a similar situation as her young daughter: center stage in the middle of an adoring audience of men. Some role model, Blair thought. Like mother, like daughter after all.
But it was typical for this crowd. Parents not noticing that their children were blooming into early adulthood, with all the mischievousness that followed. Serena and Blair might be the bestest of friends, but Serena also had all the boys while Blair had all of the books.
Descending the stone steps of the terrace, Blair watched her feet crease a path into the lush green grass of the massive garden that surrounded the van der Woodsen's Hamptons estate. Blair had passed many of her childhood summers here and knew her way through the rose garden, past the eloquent fountain that was larger than most Brooklyn lofts, towards her beloved ruins. Mimicking great old English gardens, a faux ruin of Greco-Roman nature was meticulous tossed on the edge of the estate, nestled among a cluster of pine trees.
As a girl, she had loved its secluded space. She used to curl up against a tall, crooked column with the quiet sounds of the country and a good book, the summer sun watching over her. Today she would settle for some sun and quiet, away from a party full of adults with a strange sprinkle of their teenage children. Sitting down would be nice too. Bookish didn't mean she looked like Audrey Hepburn at the beginning of Funny Face! But these shoes really weren't helping her mood today.
The sunlight burst bright white off of the ruined fragments of marble. To Blair's alarm, it wasn't just bright white. She instantly froze, finding someone in her ruins. A pop of pink, a ruffled shock of brown hair—no, it was…blonde? A few curious steps to the right cleared up the confusion.
It wasn't just one person leaning against her favorite crooked column. It was two. A pretty blonde girl, her entire body, arms, legs, and wispy floral dress, was wrapped around a fine looking specimen of man making up that pop of pink and shock of brown hair.
Her sacred space was officially corrupted because some couple couldn't keep in their pants or at the very least find a vacant bedroom! Disgust mingled with an odd fascination with the rhythm of their movements. Their hands struggling between grasping fabric, touching skin, and grabbing hair, Blair couldn't quite find her manners and turn away. His hand touched her knee—no, oh dear. It disappeared underneath her dress.
The girl paused her kisses long enough to throw her head back and let out a happy cry. Blair certainly had a good idea where that hand had gone.
A bolt of horror struck. By tossing back her head, the female had finally revealed her partner. Blair knew the tawny eyes that were presently locked onto her.
Oh, God. She mentally screamed at her feet to move, her eyes to look away, but she couldn't. Was she having sunstroke? How much vodka had she dumped in her orange juice? She felt her cheeks flaring red as his mouth curled in an arrogant, challenging smile. On God's green planet, how had she thought he was a man?
Chuck Bass was only 15. Just like her!
But entirely unlike Chuck, she hadn't dated much at all, and she'd certainly never made out with anyone. Yet she couldn't look away. Her earlier fascination had caused an aching pulse between her legs. Chuck's eyes, that dangerous smile, were making her heart race. Against her better judgment, Blair found herself imaging she was the girl pressed underneath him.
Chuck was delighted to discover their prissy, petite voyeur. Those big brown eyes, the horror and innocence on her face at finding him in pursuit of pleasure, it all just made him harder and hornier. This would be fun. His blonde treat was panting and had proved she was more than sufficiently moist. Without need of guidance, she had pulled his pants open after fishing the condom from his pocket. He'd chosen well this afternoon. She gave him several firm strokes before getting to her task, though he hardly needed the extra help thanks to the princess of perfection, Ms. Blair Waldorf.
Ready at last, he hoisted the girl's leg up and leaned in. She wrapped her other leg around his waist and he drove home, unable to take his eyes from Blair and her sweetly naïve face. He saw it in her eyes though. That haze of desire, that despite herself, she kept standing there because she liked what she was seeing.
He thrust into the blonde even harder with that thought. What a delicious find. Pristine, hoity Blair Waldorf was a little dirty inside. He watched those full, pert lips part slightly as she watched him. He imagined what those luscious red lips would look like—feel like, wrapped around his cock. The idea of having such an icon of perfection down on her knees before him caused his balls to tighten with pleasure and that final rush of blood before he climaxed. He growled in his partner's ear, "Say my name."
"Oh, Chuck!"
From beneath hooded lashes, Chuck managed to continue watching Blair. Her increasingly mortified innocence made him think she might faint on the spot. But, she finally found the strength to bolt from the scene.
He wanted to run after her, to tease and torment her for watching him fuck one of the bitches from Chapin, but his climax prevented him. A little of his frustration and anger with the world surged from his body as he came. When every drop was drained, he allowed the harlot to slide to the ground, her blissful face or feelings meaning nothing to him as he fixed his pants and rushed back towards the party.
He found Blair, a fresh flute of orange juice in one hand, and one of the secret fun flasks tucked in several of the potted plants in the other. He chuckled to himself as he watched the vodka drop into her drink as he walked up behind her. He leaned in close, his mouth nearly pressed to her ear. His voice was even lower than usual due to his recent climax "In need of fortification?"
He had her pinned in a shaded corner of the large patio and he watched her back go ramrod straight at his words. When she whirled around to meet his gaze, he found he was enjoying his first close encounter with the class virgin. A cool exterior, but in those eyes, he saw the fire below.
"I'm just freshening up before finding Serena."
She had dropped the flask back into the plant before turning to him, but he glanced how tightly she held the glass in her hand, and her voice was defensively clipped.
"Are you sure there isn't something…" He took his time raking his gaze slowly over her body, "you'd like me help you with?"
Her tone and speech became even more proper than before. "I have not the faintest clue what you are talking about."
Chuck leaned back in to whisper in her ear, the back of his hand lightly caressing down her arm, causing goose bumps on her soft skin. "I'm sure if I thrust my hand between your legs right now, I'd find you know exactly what I'm talking about."
He heard her breathing become slightly more labored. The scent of her perfume was sweet, but heady, and Chuck felt himself grow instantly hard again. What was this nothing-virgin doing to elicit such an intense response from him? He wanted to truly touch her, to kiss her, and discover if this pull, this attraction, was just his imagination.
Her voice faltered, "Oh. There's Serena."
She was gone, leaving him nothing but a light cloud of her perfume and a terribly uncomfortable erection.
Blair rushed to her best friend. Serena was leaning happily against the balustrade of the patio, basking like a golden goddess in the sun.
Serena squealed, catching sight of her approaching friend. "B! Enjoying yourself?"
Blair gave her best friend a sour cringe. "I was, until Chuck Bass started talking to me!"
Serena gave her a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, "I'm sorry."
"I wish he wasn't so rich. He doesn't belong in this circle." With an added huff, Blair thought back on what she had seen just minutes ago. Such a vulgar display at a party—in broad daylight! And then how he had spoken to her. How dare he. There was no doubt his reputation preceded him. The parties, the drinking, the scandalizing behavior, that's all Chuck Bass was and represented. How he managed to attend their school was beyond Blair's powers of imagination. Nothing about him suggested any sort of academic.
Serena was glancing over Blair's shoulder and Blair turned to follow her gaze. Serena was eyeing the topic of their conversation. Today, the Bass had arrived at the van der Woodsen's in white linen trousers, a perfect pink dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a paisley pink cravat tucked into the neckline of the shirt. And that was to say nothing of how he looked in the clothes.
Serena was smiling and shook her head a little, "I suppose you're right, but black sheep or no, he is stunning to look at."
"Ew!" Blair then smacked Serena in the arm, "No. He's lazy, and wasteful, and so…so… Abhorrent!"
Serena's smile burst into laughter, "My, aren't we being polite."
Blair frowned, but it was a petulant one she only shared with her best friend.
Recollecting herself, Serena said, "We need people like him in these stuffy circles. He keeps things interesting."
"Interesting?" Blair put her hands on her hips, "That is your defense? I like my interesting in books, and art, not in a roller coaster of emotions in my personal life."
"Oh?" Serena put her on hips on her hands, mimicking her friend, and tilted her head in challenge, "This from the girl who has read Pride & Prejudice how many times? You'd fall for a Darcy, not a Bingley, no matter what you like to think. You are way too smart to fall for sweet and boring. You'll fall for a man who is devastatingly handsome, smart, witty, and can make your blood boil with passion because," Serena now pointed a long elegant finger, "He gets you."
"You've been reading your mother's romance novels aga-"
Serena interjected. "He will see right." She poked Blair in the shoulder. "Through." Another poke. "You." Poke.
Blair flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I reject your character analysis on the basis of experience. It is all pure conjecture." Blair returned Serena's poking, "As if we're fully formed at the age of fifteen!"
"Well," Serena hooked her arm with her friends as they turned to rejoin the crowd on the terrace. She leaned in to continue as the spotted Serena's mother holding court, "As long as we don't turn into our mothers, I think we'll be quite happy."
The pair walked past Chuck and Blair refused to glance at him, raising her head a little higher and laughing with her friend, to make a point that she was ignoring his existence.
The remaining days of summer passed and Blair was pulled back to the Upper East Side with the rest of her classmates. The priority upon returning to the city after a summer in the Hamptons was catching up on the extensive shopping they had missed. Serena had allowed Blair the enjoyment of shopping for accessories first: coats, shoes, handbags, sunglasses, and all the other little pieces that added that extra touch.
In exchange however, today, Serena was dragging Blair through the luxurious room full lingerie at Bergdorf's. Serena flitted from one beautiful piece to another, chasing after all the pretty things that struck her fancy. Blair on the other hand, meticulously combed through one section before beginning the next with great consideration. Her progress was slow, while in no time at all Serena's arms were full of silk and lace.
Serena called over her shoulder as she dashed toward the other end of the room, "See you in the changing rooms?"
Blair sighed, though she had a tiny smile at her bubbly friend's energy, looking back down at the item she had been considering. Lifting it up to the light, it was a sumptuous, deep blue balconette bra, with a matching thong and garter belt. Lingerie made Blair nervous. It was sex, and sex—being sexy, that wasn't who Blair was. This gorgeous set wasn't who she was. But it was seductive and she couldn't help but wonder if she had the curves to pull such a piece off?
"Very well done, Waldorf. Try it on for me?"
Blair stiffened in an instant. That voice, even the way his breath caressed her ear. She hissed through her teeth, "Bass."
His fingers pulled her hair back over her shoulder, she could feel the heat of his hand, but he did not touch her. "I did ask nicely."
Blair's mind was blank. She forced herself to focus on her breathing, because her chest felt tight. What did his touch feel like? The force of his presence behind her once more was so alluring, she wondered if he were to touch her, would it burn her skin? Would it leave a mark?
"B!"
Serena stood in the doorway to the dressing room, hands on her hips, wearing a silky pale pink chemise. And nothing else.
The reality of a furious, lingerie-clad, Serena snapped Blair back. Blair was standing in the middle of Bergdorf's lingerie department with Chuck Bass standing much too close to her; a modern day portrait of Lucifer out to steal another soul. Blair dropped the pretty lingerie and rushed back to her friend, chasing her back into the dressing rooms before some random pervert or paparazzi (same thing?) caught sight of Serena.
They didn't see Chuck laugh and pick up the discarded lingerie. Honestly speaking, like a public dressing room could keep Chuck Bass away.
Blair arrived home that evening, a satisfied sense of exhaustion from another day of shopping. Stepping into her room, all she wanted to do was faint straight away onto her bed. But that was not to be.
There was a box on her bed.
From Bergdorf's, perfectly tied with a bow, pale ecru card tucked underneath.
Warily, Blair eyed the package, but slipped the card out to see who had sent it.
Please?
No name. Nothing else. Just please?
Annoyed, Blair pulled the bow free and opened the box. There, nestled in tissue paper, was the sexy blue lingerie she had flirted with trying on earlier. Only one person had seen her look at it.
Her skin flushed hot. No one had ever bought her such an item before. So intimate, so unquestionably sexy.
An overwhelming rush of emotions flooded her. She couldn't process how it made her feel.
Flattered? Please, she knew better.
Insulted? No, but why didn't she?
Excited?
Oh. That was bad.
The thought of wearing it for him ran away with her. She fingered the silky smooth fabric and wondered what his fingertips would feel like on her naked skin. If merely standing behind her were so disruptive, being so close to a man like Chuck would have to be simply intoxicating.
It wouldn't be awkward with him. Losing her… Her first time. He knew how to touch a woman. She'd heard stories, from Serena, and her peers, about how terrible and disappointing first times could be. But she'd also heard how else sex could be. With Chuck, even her first time would be immensely gratifying, and the feel of him would be…
Bad.
This was bad.
Blair dropped the lingerie back into its box, her mind rebelling against the wash of hormones. Fantasizing? About Chuck Bass?Never again!
Thoroughly disgusted, she closed the box and shoved it deep underneath her bed.
Out of sight, out of mind. Right?
AN: Endless love and gratitude to my beta Noirreigne, you're the best!Chapter titles, for a spot of fun, are being borrowed from the titles other Fanfics. Missy06's The Garden, for this chapter. No longer available on this site, the majority of the story has been recovered and archived on GossipFic -dot- net.Story title taken from the song L'Amour Toujours , or I'll Fly With You, by the Italian DJ Gigi D'Agostino.As I own nothing, check out the music, the stories, and the books/show Gossip Girl.
