The Bed You Make
Chapter 44, concluded
As Stefan watched, Dara emerged slowly from the bathroom, clad in her customary nighttime attire. "Dara?" Stefan took a step closer. "Are you in need of assistance?
"No," she replied after a moment. Dara did not look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the bed. Stefan watched with interest her overly careful movements. "I ask," he tipped his head toward the empty vodka decanter, "only because it appears that you have partaken of far more vodka than was wise."
"I'm fine. Peachy keen. You must have me confused with Jacqueline. Hey, that rhymes!" Dara laughed delightedly. She seemed quite taken with her own humor. "Guess who I am!" She launched into a mincing imitation of the Countess de Mardors. "Oh, mon petit chouchou," Dara pursed her lips in an exaggerated pout, "I am so helpless! My horrible life as a rich widow keeps me awake at night!" She lurched Stefan’s way. He instinctively grasped her about the waist and held her steady. "Oh, my darling chouchou! I could sleep if I had your strong arms - and your money - to comfort me!"
Stefan did not allow his amusement at Dara’s wicked imitation to show. Hers was a highly accurate – if somewhat cruel – imitation of Jacqueline’s behavior. "You are intoxicated," Stefan observed mildly.
"Am too! I mean... Am not! Look!" Dara attempted a drunken pirouette that only succeeded in tumbling her onto the bed. Stefan noted with masculine appreciation that the action also served to reveal an alluring expanse of smooth skin normally hidden beneath his wife’s clothing. "Ah, yes," he gently tucked Dara into bed as though she were a child. "You are most certainly not intoxicated."
"Ha, ha." Dara yawned. "If I was untoxicated I couldn’t tell you this." She beckoned Stefan near. "I really like..." she murmured something else indecipherable and snuggled deeper into the plush bed linens. Curious, Stefan leaned in and prompted her to repeat what she’d just said. "I said," she whispered, "I really like your man part."
Stefan could not recall being more nonplussed. He stared mutely at his intoxicated wife. "I don’t always like your Cassadine part," Dara continued sleepily, "but I always like your man part. Like when you’re with Nilokas. Nilokas. Nil.o-"
"Nik-olas," Stefan offered.
"Exactly. Nilokas." Dara's eyes began to flutter shut. "I like you then. You're just a man. But I know," she shook her head weakly, "that's when you are the most dangerush for me. I could really get in troubles then."
