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Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Depeche Mode
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
15
Views:
1,404
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Depeche Mode. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 12
She looked stunning. The black dress she wore complimented her slender figure, and the lights in the restaurant picked out highlights in her hair. She was chic and elegant, like an old French movie star, as she smiled at him from behind her wine glass. There was definitely something special about her, and he was very thankful they had crossed paths.
"So how long have you been working there?" he asked.
"Only a couple of years, since I got out of college. It's not exactly what I imagined when I dreamt of going into the fashion industry, but it's a start."
"You won't be there forever, Caitlynn. You're talented."
"How do you know?" she laughed.
"I can just tell." he replied with a grin.
She shook her head at him in amusement, making her honey blonde hair sway slightly, and took another sip of wine.
The evening was perfect, he thought, as he held open the door of the taxi for her. The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He sat with an arm around her shoulders, exchanging occasional glances.
"Why don't you come in for a while?"
She sounded so innocent, so offhand, but her smile was something else entirely. He felt an answering grin tug at his lips.
He paid the driver while she unlocked the door to her apartment building, then followed her inside, letting it slam behind them.
Angela flicked through the TV channels once again, unable to concentrate on anything in particular, and eventually settling on some music channel, content to allow it to wash over her. Martin had gone out on a date with the girl who had been serving in the boutique, leaving her alone in the house, and locking the door behind him. What she was meant to do if there was a fire she wasn't sure. Apparently the girl, Caitlynn, was "really great", though Angela had failed to notice. She pursed her lips as she thought about it. The girl was younger than she was probably, and she looked, well, dumb.
"Sowing his wild oats I guess." she thought, when the TV regained her attention.
It was an old video, the song was decidedly 80s...And so was Martin. He looked about 16 or something, but it was definitely him, the hair was unmistakable. What really surprised her was the fact she recognised the tune. She sat, dumbfounded, from start to end of the video, before breaking out in a fit of giggles. She would definitely have to bring this up when he got home. If he came home.
She glanced at the clock. Past midnight.
"I guess he got lucky. Probably difficult not to when you're a rich rockstar."
She clicked the TV off and headed to bed, hoping that Martin wouldn't decide to come bursting into the house at 3 am and wake her up.
"So how long have you been working there?" he asked.
"Only a couple of years, since I got out of college. It's not exactly what I imagined when I dreamt of going into the fashion industry, but it's a start."
"You won't be there forever, Caitlynn. You're talented."
"How do you know?" she laughed.
"I can just tell." he replied with a grin.
She shook her head at him in amusement, making her honey blonde hair sway slightly, and took another sip of wine.
The evening was perfect, he thought, as he held open the door of the taxi for her. The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He sat with an arm around her shoulders, exchanging occasional glances.
"Why don't you come in for a while?"
She sounded so innocent, so offhand, but her smile was something else entirely. He felt an answering grin tug at his lips.
He paid the driver while she unlocked the door to her apartment building, then followed her inside, letting it slam behind them.
Angela flicked through the TV channels once again, unable to concentrate on anything in particular, and eventually settling on some music channel, content to allow it to wash over her. Martin had gone out on a date with the girl who had been serving in the boutique, leaving her alone in the house, and locking the door behind him. What she was meant to do if there was a fire she wasn't sure. Apparently the girl, Caitlynn, was "really great", though Angela had failed to notice. She pursed her lips as she thought about it. The girl was younger than she was probably, and she looked, well, dumb.
"Sowing his wild oats I guess." she thought, when the TV regained her attention.
It was an old video, the song was decidedly 80s...And so was Martin. He looked about 16 or something, but it was definitely him, the hair was unmistakable. What really surprised her was the fact she recognised the tune. She sat, dumbfounded, from start to end of the video, before breaking out in a fit of giggles. She would definitely have to bring this up when he got home. If he came home.
She glanced at the clock. Past midnight.
"I guess he got lucky. Probably difficult not to when you're a rich rockstar."
She clicked the TV off and headed to bed, hoping that Martin wouldn't decide to come bursting into the house at 3 am and wake her up.