"Private Lessons"
Rating: PG
When Padmé wants someone to teach her how to kiss, she turns to a trusted friend for help. Between Palo at age 12 and Anakin at age 24, Padmé had to have picked it up somewhere!
Thanks to Camille and Helens for the beta.
"Sorry I'm late," Bail said as he dropped a kiss on Padmé's offered cheek.
"I'm sorry I had to order without you," Padmé returned as Bail took a seat across from her, "but I have a meeting right after lunch, and I couldn't wait."
"I would have commed you, but I was in a meeting myself," Bail smirked back at her. He didn't bother with a menu, just flagged down a waiter. "I'll have what she's having," he instructed. Returning his attention to Padmé, he grimaced. "Stars, I hate this place. Finest chefs in the galaxy, they say. Hah! Even Anakin can cook better than this. Still, it's appropriate for the senate restaurant to embody our galactic theme: catering to the lowest common denominator." He heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Why do we keep meeting here instead of some place actually palatable?"
Padmé glanced at the other diners: senators, visiting heads of state, wealthy lobbyists. The Capitol Club was allegedly the finest eatery in the Senate Building, and the price tag certainly excluded everyone except the elite. She wasn't too fond of the place herself, but it was convenient and far more quiet than the Senate Building's other cafes and clubs. "We meet here because, despite all our experience to the contrary, we keep thinking that a lunch date sounds practical," she observed.
"You're right. Forget this. Next time, it's dinner at Balikk's."
"I think that's the third time you've said that," she remarked, picking at her overcooked vegetables. "When we do finally manage to eat somewhere else, I'd like to try something different...like that diner Anakin is always talking about."
A look of horror spread over Bail's face. "Not Dexter's! I must disagree with my esteemed colleague from Naboo and vote against the motion. Dexter's is great for gossip, but terrible for eating."
"I think my esteemed colleague from Alderaan has a delicate stomach," Padmé teased.
"My esteemed colleague from Naboo is delusional if she thinks she can withstand one of Dexter's sliders."
Laughing, Padmé raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. Bail's meal arrived and he wolfed down a few mouthfuls as gracefully as he could before continuing, "It's been about three months now, hasn't it? How is the rookie senator faring?"
"Not too badly," Padmé answered with a prim smile. "I only question my sanity about thirty times a day."
"That's all? Ah, to be young and idealistic again!"
Padmé snickered into her napkin. "My geriatric colleague will be happy to hear that I have decided not to retire from the Senate and fly screaming back to Naboo." She paused, folding her napkin and laying it on the table. "I feel like I'm finally getting my bearings," she pronounced. "I enjoy the competitive climate of core world politics."
Surprised, Bail paused in his hasty meal. "Really?"
"Yes. Who would've thought it?" she exclaimed in mock amazement. "Then again, let's face it: nothing much ever happens on Naboo."
"Aside from the occasional invasion by the Trade Federation, you mean?"
"Yes, and that was the most fun I had during my term as queen." When Bail met this comment with a skeptical expression, she amended, "Perhaps 'fun' isn't the right word. 'Challenging' would be better." Padmé folded her arms and leaned on the edge of the table, staring off into the distance. "We are so tradition-bound that each year rolls by just like the preceding one. After six years in office, I could tell you exactly what everyone was going to say before they said it. Bibble would angst about Nute Gunray, Niaritt would angst about the budget, and Panaka would angst about everything. It didn't matter what the topic was, I knew exactly what stand all my cabinet members would take, and how long they would hold firm before finally coming to consensus. Sometimes it seemed like I wasn't the head of state, but the head of a day-care center!"
"If Naboo was a day-care center, then what is Coruscant?" Bail wanted to know.
Padmé grimaced. "Middle school! A pack of selfish, immature pre- adolescents. Present company excepted, of course."
"How excessively generous of you, Senator."
"It's an accurate analogy, and yet we are doing important work. I do not regret my decision to come here. Coruscant challenges me." Again her gaze turned inward, and Bail surreptitiously watched her while he finished his meal. She really was beautiful. Glowing skin, pearly teeth, wide, almond-shaped eyes. No wonder Anakin called her an angel. If it weren't for Obi-Wan, who knew what might have happened between Bail and Padmé? But then, there was Obi-Wan, and anyway, Padmé had never shown any interest in Bail. She seemed to view him as an older cousin, a role he enjoyed, even if she did occasionally arouse un-cousinly feelings in him.
Padmé straightened in her chair, and Bail lowered his eyes before she could catch him staring at her. "I definitely find Coruscant challenging," Padmé reiterated. "It has provided me with many new and exciting opportunities."
"Such as?" Bail prompted
She ran her fingertip around the edge of her glass, an unsenatorial grin on her face. "Do you know I have declined 47 dating offers so far?"
Delighted, Bail asked, "And how many have you accepted?"
"Only the ones from the Alderaani Senator!"
Bail shook his head, enjoying their banter. "Don't trust him. I hear he's a rake."
"I don't doubt it, but I think I can handle him," she retorted before growing serious once more. "No one ever approached me when I was queen. It's not our way. I, um...." She slowed down, fingering the edge of her napkin. "Actually, that was something I wanted to talk to you about. I don't really know the customs here on Coruscant."
Time to be the big cousin again. Bail shrugged. "Everyone here is from someplace else, so anything goes. You need to make your own rules and stick to them."
"Yes, but I'm not really sure what rules to make. I don't know the first thing about...," she trailed off.
Bail fixed a mischievous eye on her. "Senator, are you asking me to explain the facts of life to you?"
She made a face at him. "Of course not! But...courtship rituals, mating customs, sexual practices, that kind of thing." To her amazement, Bail actually blushed. She lowered her voice, leaning across the table toward him, not noticing when he pulled back slightly. "The truth is I have absolutely no experience in such matters."
"Absolutely none?"
"Well, not since I was twelve and was elected governor of Theed."
"Twelve?!" Bail exclaimed.
"So you can see I am at something of a disadvantage," she remarked with a self-deprecating shrug. "I would like to date, but I don't know what to do. I mean, kissing and all the rest. Can you imagine? Twenty years old and still a virgin!"
"And how exactly were you wanting me to help you overcome this handicap?" Bail ventured.
"When the time comes, I plan on taking care of that matter myself, Senator," she smiled. "I just would like to be a little... prepared."
"Prepared?!" Bail echoed, his voice straining the upper registers.
"I mean -- a sort of intermediate training. Like a trial run. I'm rather past that experimental age when people learn these things in a casual social environment. I would like to learn how to kiss. From someone I know." She gazed at him with steady determination. "Someone I trust."
Bail gulped hard. To cover for his disquiet, he reverted to mock formality. "My colleague from Naboo offers a most interesting proposal."
"I'm serious, Bail," urged Padmé. "Look, you're the perfect choice. We're good friends, and I know you won't make anything of it. Neither of us will be looking for any kind of romantic entanglement, nor do we desire it. You're happily involved with someone else, and I'm quite content being single." She paused, looking hopefully at him, and she suddenly seemed alarmingly young. "How else am I supposed to learn? I don't want to fumble it when the time comes."
"What about consulting your handmaidens for instruction?" Bail suggested evasively. An enigmatic shake of her head. "There are... complications."
"But isn't that what flocks of women do when they're together?"
"Why?" Padmé returned. "What do flocks of men do?" "Circle jerk," was Bail's simple reply.
Padmé rolled her eyes. "Thank the Force I have no brothers. So what do you think?"
Bail hesitated. "I'm just not sure."
Padmé straightened in her chair, assuming a formal air. "On what grounds do you object to my proposal, Senator?"
"Well, for one thing, there's Obi-Wan."
"I know that. You know that. What's the problem? He doesn't strike me as the jealous type. It's just a kissing lesson. I shouldn't think he would object even if he did know."
"Maybe not," Bail conceded. "It might be better if I asked him, though."
Padmé's eyes narrowed. "I would prefer this transaction remain confidential."
Bail inclined his head. "Of course."
"Do you think he would disapprove if he knew?"
"I suppose not."
"Then how can you object?"
A reluctant shrug. "Well, there's Anakin."
"Anakin is fifteen. And he definitely does not need to know."
"Fifteen-year-olds still have feelings," Bail pointed out, "and if he ever found out...."
"But how would he find out? I certainly won't tell him, and I know you won't."
Bail fiddled with his fork. "But wouldn't it seem like lying to him?"
Padmé's eyes flashed in irritation. "I know Anakin has a crush on me, and I certainly like him as a friend. But he is fifteen. I will not let the jealousy of a child interfere with my life."
Bail said nothing to that, knowing how much Anakin would like to interfere with his own love life. "If it were me alone, that would be one thing. But I don't exist in a vacuum. Neither do you."
Padmé slumped back in her chair, defeated. "Then you won't help me."
Bail hated to refuse her even more than he hated to accept. Casting about for a solution, he hazarded, "Isn't there someone more suitable than me?"
"Everyone I know lacks either the requisite experience or tact. They are either too old, or too close to my age. They're someone I don't like, or don't trust. You're ideally suited," she concluded. "Too old to let hormones rule you, happily attached to someone else. Experienced, and yet a gentleman. You are trustworthy, discreet, considerate." Her gaze grew teasing. "Easy on the eyes...."
"All right!" Bail silenced her with a hasty wave of his hand, not really wanting to hear more. She had never unsettled him like this before, and he was loath to admit it. Her request was innocent enough, in a sort of...risqué way. And she was no doubt correct that Obi-Wan wouldn't mind. As for Anakin, well, what did Bail really owe the boy anyway? He'd grown tired of Anakin's self-righteous scorn, his proprietary attitude toward Obi-Wan, his constant suspicion and criticism. Anakin had made it perfectly clear he no longer considered Bail a friend. If Padmé was not concerned about the boy's jealousy, Bail shouldn't be either. And it was flattering that she had come to him for this. He could handle his hormones. He could be the trustworthy gentleman she saw him to be. "All right, I'll do it," he conceded at last. "But only kissing. Above the neck."
"Of course," Padmé agreed, barely able to contain her glee.
Cautiously, Bail asserted, "I mean it. You won't call on me for more... advanced tutorials?"
"No. When it comes to the rest, I figure I'll be able to dictate the pace and learn as I go. It's just the kissing part that makes me nervous. When I'm ready to make that move, I don't want my lover to feel like they're kissing a Gungan."
Bail made a sour face. "No, that wouldn't do at all."
They shook on the deal, then consulted their respective calendars to find a mutual evening free. So it was that a couple of nights later found a very nervous Bail Organa pacing in his apartment and prepping himself for the coming lessons with a snifter of brandy.
He kept telling himself that he was not having second thoughts about all this. He was simply helping out a friend. It was all perfectly innocent, and he wasn't betraying anyone. Really, he wasn't. He kept repeating that thought over and over again each time he crossed the room. Surely at some point he would start believing it.
From his place in the living room, he could hear the door chime, signaling the arrival of his pupil. The housekeeper admitted Padmé moments later, just as Bail was pouring out a second snifter of brandy. He handed it to her by way of greeting. "This might help."
She took a sip, her dark eyes laughing at him over the rim of the glass. The liquor burned her throat. "Are you nervous?"
"As a matter of fact, I am," he returned, feeling a little defensive. Perfectly innocent, perfectly innocent, he repeated to himself. He downed a gulp of brandy and poured himself another glass. "Alcohol helps, you know. In moderation, it can lower your inhibitions."
She arched one fine eyebrow at him, watching as he plopped onto the couch, lacking his usual grace. "You need your inhibitions lowered?" she asked, sitting next to him, but not too close.
"Yes, actually. I'm hardly accustomed to providing instruction of such a nature to young women. Or anyone else, for that matter." He buried his nose in his snifter, inhaling the strong fumes. The vapor stung his nostrils, cutting through his anxiety, and he could finally raise his eyes and meet her gaze. "Aren't you nervous?" he challenged.
"Yes," she admitted. "But excited, too."
Bail looked away again, his cheeks coloring. "I really didn't need to hear that."
"Maybe 'excited' isn't the right word. How about 'eager for my lesson?'"
"That hardly sounds better."
Worried, she tried to catch his gaze. "Have you changed your mind? Do you not want to go through with this?"
He shook his head. "No, that's all right. I'll be fine."
She nodded, and they retreated into awkward silence, Bail swirling the brandy in his glass. Abruptly, Padmé said, "So tell me. People don't usually ask for permission before kissing someone, do they?"
"No," he answered. "Although come to think of it, I did ask Obi-Wan the first time."
Surprised, Padmé asked, "Really?"
Bail nodded. "He said no. Or rather, he said I could kiss him, but only on the cheek. He still wasn't too sure about me back in those days."
Padmé didn't really want to talk about Obi-Wan. She passed over the comment in order to return to the matter at hand. "So if you don't ask, how do you know if it's all right?"
"Nonverbal cues: glances, touches, invading their personal space. If they move away, it's a bad sign. If they move closer, then you're probably onto something." Padmé scooted closer to him on the couch. "Like this?"
Bail instinctively flinched away from her before composing himself. "Uh, yes."
She let her knee touch his. "And this?"
Bail gulped, setting his glass down. "You see? You're a natural. You shouldn't worry about that part, Senator; you're very good at reading people." "Thank you, Senator." Before Bail could say anything more, she leaned forward and planted a swift kiss on his lips. She quickly backed away again, watching him closely. He appeared startled, but not disgusted. "Sorry," she apologized. "I just thought I ought to leap on in, so to speak."
Somewhat dazed, Bail nodded. "Good plan."
Padmé waited, but Bail did nothing more. Concerned, she asked, "Gungan, wasn't it?"
"Ah - no," Bail contradicted. "Somehow I would expect Gungan to be a little more... moist."
Padmé feared her nerves would fail her completely. "I told you I was no good at this."
"Not at all," he assured her. "That was a commendable start."
She groaned and buried her face in her hands.
"No really, Padmé, one has to start somewhere. If it makes you feel any better, I was a virgin myself until I was eighteen."
She looked up at him, jaw hanging open. "I don't believe it!"
"It's true. A young eighteen, but...," he shrugged, embarrassed.
"My excuse is that I've been running a planet since I hit puberty - and a rather repressed planet at that," she remarked. "But how could you grow up on Alderaan and be an eighteen-year-old virgin?"
"I was a late bloomer," was his testy reply. He didn't know why he ever told people about his delayed initiation into the pleasures of the flesh. They invariably over-reacted. "It happens, you know. In school I was everyone's best friend. By the time I was ready to change that, no one thought of me that way. I had to wait for University."
Padmé shook her head. "I'm still not sure I believe it."
"I'm sorry I ever told Obi-Wan," Bail admitted. "He's never let me live down the fact that he lost his virginity before I did. Way before I did."
Despite her better judgement, Padmé queried, "How old was he?"
"Fifteen."
She paused. Anakin's age. For reasons she totally did not want to examine, this bothered her. Forcing her mind back to the task at hand, she said, "Shall we practice, then?"
"Oh. Yes." Bail cleared his throat. "Closed-mouth kissing, that's a good place to start. Nice and easy. Um, do you...?" He waved his hand, as if signaling for her to go first.
"I'd prefer it if you took the lead," she suggested.
"Right." He paused, collecting his nerve, and leaned forward until his lips were touching hers. They stayed together unmoving for a moment, then Bail brushed his lips softly against hers, applying a little pressure, a little suction. He squashed his misgivings, blanked his mind and focused on the sensations. Soft lips beneath his. Perfume tickling his nose. Silky skirt brushing against the back of his hand. She began to respond to his movements, nibbling his lips, gentle, but increasingly insistent.
It was nothing like kissing Obi-Wan. For one thing, he had a beard. For another thing, he was Bail's size. Bail knew Obi-Wan's taste, his scent, the texture of his lips. Padmé was completely different. He had to bend his head to kiss her. She felt smaller, softer -- awkward but eager. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone but Obi-Wan, so long since he had kissed a woman. He had forgotten how sweet it was to kiss someone new, to feel their mouth resist at first, then melt against yours, warm breath mingling, those wet little kissing noises, so good, so delicious....
Bail halted his rumination, pressing one final kiss to Padmé's lips before drawing away. She looked up at him, dark eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He cleared his throat. "So, what do you think?"
"Not very Gungan at all."
"No. Indeed." He hastily reached again for his glass. "How do you feel it went?"
"Very well, I suppose." Her eyes narrowed as she watched him drink his brandy. "You're still nervous."
"Well, what do you expect?"
"True enough." She appeared to be taking it all much more in stride than he was. "All right, time for some detailed questions. Eyes open or closed?"
Her rather clinical inquiry somehow helped soothe Bail's nerves. Talking about it was easier than doing it. "Whatever you prefer. In my experience, some people are offended if you don't close your eyes. I don't know why. Still, at such a close range it's not like you can really see anything. Besides," he snickered, "you lose focus, and your partner's eyes merge until they become a cyclops."
Padmé leaned forward, her eyes on Bail's until her nosetip pressed to his. Laughing, she sat back. "I see what you mean! What about breathing? In books they always kiss until they're out of breath. Are you really not supposed to breathe when you're kissing?"
"I never understood that, either," he admitted. "What do you think noses are for? They're sort of a snorkel for kissing."
Padmé giggled, her laughter carefree and relaxed. "I had no idea that was the evolutionary function of noses! So breathing is all right."
"Of course. It's possible to stay lip-locked for hours."
"Do your lips ever get chapped?"
"I can't recall that they ever did."
"What do you do with your hands?"
"They usually take care of themselves." He cocked a warning eyebrow at her. "But that's not covered in this lesson."
"No, of course not," she dismissed. "What if your partner is much taller than you?"
"Kiss on a staircase."
"Ingenious," she remarked with a smirk. "What about deep kissing?"
"Deep kissing?"
"You know, with tongues." When Bail hesitated, Padmé added, "It always sounded disgusting to me."
"Most sexual practices sound disgusting, but they feel wonderful."
"And what are some of the disgusting practices you enjoy?" Padmé wanted to know.
"We said kissing only, above the neck, Senator," Bail reminded her. "I think you can discuss the rest with your handmaidens."
"Right. Sorry. So -- kissing with tongues? Anything I need to know?"
"Just remember to swallow periodically, or you risk becoming covered with slobber."
Padmé made a face. "Thank you for making it sound so very appealing, Senator!"
"I'm sorry. It really does sound awful, doesn't it?" he admitted. "Like rimming."
"Rimming?"
"Ah. No." He turned a most astonishing shade of red. "That's below the neck. Far below. I'm not going into that one, either."
Far below the neck? Padmé was momentarily distracted, trying to figure out what part of the anatomy he must be referring to. Definitely something to ask her handmaidens. Sabé would know for sure. Suppressing her curiosity, Padmé conceded, "All right. But tongue kissing really is enjoyable?"
"Most definitely," Bail assured her. Another long pause. Very long. And more awkward by the second.
"Well?" Padmé prompted.
"Right." Bail shifted awkwardly on the couch. "Um, it can take a little getting used to, so we'll go slow. Stop if you feel uncomfortable at any time."
Padmé nodded. Bail took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then leaned forward once more.
No tongues at first, of course. Bail opened his mouth against Padmé's, kissing her more energetically. He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around her, but as their kiss intensified, she reached for him, her fingers curling into his sleeves to steady herself.
When they were both fully immersed in the kiss, he flicked the tip of his tongue across her upper lip. She jumped and broke contact with a startled, "Oh!"
He eyed her anxiously. "No good?"
"No, no, it's fine," she hastily assured him. "It just surprised me." Before he could say anything further, she was back on him, her tongue sweeping over his lips. For several minutes they kissed, tongues coming into play with lips, though no deeper. The first time their tongues actually touched, Padmé stiffened again, but she did not pull back. On the contrary, she leaned further into him, kissing him with zeal.
He held his arms stiffly at his sides, determined not to touch her, but she shared no such reservation. Her hands slid up his arms to grasp his shoulders, her breasts pressing against his chest. His tongue dove into her mouth, shallow at first, then deeper as she grew accustomed to the sensation. She eagerly returned his probing, mouth locked to his, their tongues caressing. She pressed harder against him, fingers tangling in his hair, and he felt himself being pushed off balance by the force of her kiss. His arms rose to encircle her shoulders. She was so small, tiny compared to Obi-Wan, like a child. But she was no child. Soft and hard at the same time, and such passion, such heat, such delicious, wet kisses. His head spun -- what had he said about breathing? -- and he moaned into her mouth, his hands digging into her hair, waves of thick, heavy tresses, not at all like Obi-Wan's. Why had she worn it loose tonight? Why had she worn such a soft, silky dress, like warm water flowing over his hands? Why was she so young and beautiful and intelligent and passionate? He admired her so, he respected her, he wanted....
Whoa. His thoughts were definitely drifting below the neck.
Gasping, he broke off the kiss, twisting his head away from her. He still held her in his arms, and she gazed up at him, blinking slowly, licking her lips, her expression contemplative. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't let go of her. He couldn't think of anything to say.
"You're right," she observed at last. "It isn't disgusting at all."
"No," he agreed, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart and fervently wishing he had worn one of his nice, loose-fitting robes. His pants were feeling rather tight at the moment. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.
"Although really, it is rather Gungan," she continued. "But who knew Gungan could be so pleasurable?"
"Indeed." He discreetly attempted to untangle himself from her embrace.
She realized she was still holding him and let go. "Are you all right?"
Struggling to appear nonchalant, he said, "Yes. And you?"
Her lips, ruddy with kisses, curled in a wry smile. "I'm fine. But I'm worried about you."
"What?" he flustered.
Her smile wavered. "I fear I've offended you."
"Of course not," he protested.
"Bail, I know this was a lot to ask of you. And as much as I appreciate your agreeing to help me, if this turns out to jeopardize our friendship, I could never forgive myself."
"How can you say such a thing?" Bail protested, faintly alarmed. "Jeopardize our friendship? I have nothing but the highest respect for you. This is certainly an unusual request, and I admit I wouldn't care to do it again. Not that it was unpleasant, but --."
"You're babbling, Senator," Padmé interrupted him with a soft smile. She laid a gentle, reassuring hand on his. "It's all right, you know. It really is all right." Her touch warmed him, but it also anchored him. Yes, the adrenaline of arousal still careened through his veins, and his emotions were a confused jumble, but he found the strength to collect himself. Releasing his tension with a long, drawn-out sigh, he said, "Senator Amidala, you are twenty years old going on forty."
She laughed, teeth flashing white in her wide grin. "I think I'm supposed to take that as a compliment."
"I meant that you are wise and mature, far beyond your years."
Her expression softened with genuine affection. "Thank you, Senator Organa."
At last Bail felt like he could move away from her without appearing to be fleeing. He leaned back on the couch and offered, "Would you like another drink?"
"No, thank you. I think it's best if I head home."
He followed her as she got to her feet, feeling comfortable enough once more to take her arm as they walked to the door. "If you have any more questions...."
"I'll ask my handmaidens," she supplied. At the door, she turned to look up at him. "Again, thank you, Bail. I now feel quite adequately prepared."
"You were already prepared," he assured her, his voice soft.
She rose on tip-toe to plant a sisterly kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Senator."
She was out the door before he had a chance to return her farewell. He raised his hand to his cheek, fingers brushing the spot where she'd kissed him. He sighed deeply. Time to go to bed. And hopefully dream of Obi-Wan.
~ fin ~