Chapter 114 - Queen Nataliya Oh, here it comes: young adulthood! It will be what being a teenager was supposed to be, but so much better, because now there's drinks and Woohoo involved!
Of course, Stephen was nice enough to come over in the night for my birthday party . . . I really should have thought this through! I mumbled something that sounded like an excuse and rushed to my bedroom.
Check me out! I am a hot young lady in Sunset Valley who owns a sports car and a license to
woo. Yes,
woo. As in, I'm going to go
woo somebody in the next ten minutes. Because I'm licensed. Get it?
Fortunately I had already trapped my prey in my cave, to keep it fresh for when I was later hungry . . . and I am hungry. I am ready to feed. I'm going to rip him apart with my enormous tiger teeth and feast on his bloody flesh--you know, I think I'm taking the tiger metaphor too far.
He's a clueless little jungle rabbit, which just makes the chase that much more fun. The way I see it, there are two ways to
woo a man: shy maiden or forward big-city gal, or any combination thereof. The choice here is clear . . .
Uh-huh. Stephen Felder is a knight in shining armor if I ever saw one.
I spent hours posing for my portraits and sculptures, and returned to my room to find Stephen sound asleep in my bed. I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile--this would be so much easier than I had expected. It's just like in science: there is the problem, the hypothesis, the experiment, and the conclusion. Stephen is about to experience the conclusion.
I cornered Stephen in the early hours of the morning, right after he woke up.
After the long, passionate kiss, I released Stephen and stepped back. It was the moment of truth, the final contest. What would win out: his marriage, or this sudden blossoming love between himself and his best friend?
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call
The Nataliya Influence. Trademarked!
It's funny, but in that moment I absolutely loved David Dubois. Remember him?--the guy who freaked out after I tried to kiss him, when I was a teenager. I loved him so,
so much, because he had made sure that I saved my first kiss for Stephen instead of wasting it on a useless teenage babysitter.
"
Nataliya," he finally said, pulling back. "
I'm married, and I'm so much older than you. I don't want you to waste any part of your life on me."
See? I told you he was a sweetheart. "
You aren't a waste," I answered firmly. "
I love you, and I don't care that you're older than I am or that you're married--all of that is just details. What matters now is that we are together, and my room is just behind that door."
In case you haven't noticed, I can be very persuasive when I want to be, or even when I don't want to be. It's quite effortless, really.
Very,
very persuasive.
At the conclusion of several very
energized hours with Stephen, I decided there was no time like the present to advance the noble art of science! "
Having Woohooed for seven or more hours, what does this shape look like to you?"
"
Liya, I don't want to be rude or anything, but can we not do this right now?"
"
Oh, no, of course not!" As a wise woman once said: men are generally easily manipulated, especially if batting of the eyelashes or lingerie is involved. "
I know I can't expect you to be sweet, and kind, and strong, and understanding ALL the time . . ."
"
I suppose I could just do a picture or two--"
"
Wonderful! Now, what does this look like?"
When Stephen left for work (yes, it was the next morning already--we had a very busy day and night) I went upstairs to the laboratory, and looked fondly at the enormous science machine. Just for the fun of it, I ran a few simple Horticulture experiments.
It was a good thing I wasn't doing a Radiation experiment, because I left the machine running as I raced off to the bathroom and ended up doubled up over the toilet, heaving my Key Lime Pie into the bowl. All according to plan, of course, but . . . something.
I knew what
something was--I always do.
Something is the dress that I found in Mom's closet when I was a little girl, the dress that I now found and zipped up with trembling hands.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw myself. Not the seventh generation of an immortal dynasty, not the daughter of a dead man, not a woman who lived alone in an enormous house. I saw Nataliya Elysi, as she would have been on her wedding day.
And this Nataliya, the one who is a bride, is beautiful. Not pretty, not flirtatiously desirable--beautiful, regal, and elegant. Not a princess, but a queen.
It's hard to be the immortal who will never marry when all I can dream about is having a family.
