FEBRUARY 4th, 1994, PARIS, FRANCE

             AS LINDY HAD wished, she got her comfy window seat on the plane, except that she had the addition of first class seating which allowed her ample leg room and the comfort of a pillow and blanket. Her flight had a layover in New York, but after that, the plane had taken her directly across the Atlantic and all the way to Paris, France.

My life is a fucking movie, Lindy told herself as she had waited for her baggage to come around the conveyor belt in the Charles de Gaulle airport. Her driver, who she had discovered was also one of Kurt's handlers, was next to her. He had been assigned the important duty of making sure Lindy got to France safe and sound, a mission that had gone soundly.

"I hope he pays you good for this," Lindy growled as she had hiked her luggage off the belt and onto the floor, snapping open its handle. The man, whose name had turned out to be Max, laughed.

"The look on your face when I came to get you  was priceless enough," Max grinned. Lindy had definitely grown on him during their journey together. Watching her grumble to herself in her first class seat on the flight, staring out the window with furrowed brows had been an excellent form of entertainment.

With Max's aide, Lindy was driven to a classy looking hotel that strongly reminded her of the one she had stayed in in New York. This one seemed just as expensive, its exterior made of intricately carved pale stone and the shadow it casted along the street one of monstrous proportions.

After gathering Lindy's one bag from the car trunk and leading her through the hotel lobby to the elevator, Max bid her goodbye.

"You're not staying?" Lindy asked, suddenly fearful. She had no idea where she was going or what she was doing in such a foreign city. Her heart had not stopped skipping beats since they'd landed on the French soil. 

"I'm needed elsewhere," Max explained. "I work with the Nirvana backstage crew most of the time. But be expecting me in a two, maybe three hours. I've got to pick you up for the show."

"Oh. Right. They're performing," Lindy said, remembering gleefully that her reward for enduring such an expedition would be seeing Kurt. She was struck with the realization that Courtney would not be around Kurt that night. She was somewhere else, far away from them both.

Tonight, they wouldn't have to hide.

Lindy said goodbye to Max and got into the elevator, staring in awe at the gold embellishments inside. She was on one of the topmost floors.

"What, the penthouse wasn't available?" she mumbled caustically to herself as she was let out from the elevator. It wouldn't have been surprising to her if Kurt had booked her a penthouse suite and she wondered in the back of her mind if he had attempted it. 

She found her room number and entered inside, shaking her head when she took in the extravagant furniture and regal decor. Even the wallpaper seemed to shimmer with the allure of diamonds and gold, a true note of Kurt's intentions to spoil Lindy, but never himself.

She wandered about the room, carefully touching a variety of fixtures before stopping at the circular glass breakfast table. On top of it sat a stainless steel icebox that held a bottle of expensive white wine. Next to it was a flat box adorned with red ribbon and Lindy assumed it must have held clothing inside of it. 

She uncapped the lid and pulled apart the tissue paper, blushing red all the way to her scalp when she saw what lay inside.

It was lingerie, sewn together with sensual clumps of lacy, flower-patterned material that couldn't have even available for purchase in the States.

Lindy held up the racy garb, choking on both embarrassment and amusement when she saw how little the underwear set would cover her body. Nonetheless, she smiled mischievously to herself, wondering what it would be like to surprise Kurt while wearing the lingerie. Clearly he'd bought it for her, so it would only be right for her to put it on that night.

After drinking two glasses of wine, Lindy sat down on her bed and picked up one of the dusty, table-side books on the nightstand that looked as if their hard covers had not been parted in years. She lost herself in a few chapters of The Count of Monte Christo before checking the clock and noting that it was time to get ready for the evening.

She was nervous as always to encounter Kurt while he was basked in the spotlight, still not quite used to seeing him as a celebrity figure. But tonight was different. They were going to be alone, with no outside worries to stop them from being together. She was filled with a luxurious confidence that made her feel sexy and powerful, two things she had not felt in a long time. As far as Lindy was concerned, she had never even used the word 'sexy' to describe herself before and just the thought made her blush bright red again. 

She'd rushed to pack her things back in Seattle, but had managed to find a decent outfit for Nirvana's show. While it wasn't nearly as formal as the MTV Unplugged session, Lindy had still carefully selected an appropriate get-up for the event.

She first dressed in the lingerie, unable to look at herself in the mirror as she slid her body parts through the delicate lace. She would have bursted out laughing if she'd seen herself in it. Her assumption that the set would be unnaturally skimpy on her was right — if it weren't for precariously placed scraps of material, Lindy may as well have been wearing nothing.

On top of that, she pulled on dark-wash jeans and a black, turtleneck sweater that was tight around her upper body in all the right places. She tucked it into the jeans, looping a belt on and finishing her ensemble with chunky black boots that peeked under the cuffs of her jeans. The outfit was nowhere near as soft and pretty as the dress she'd worn for Unplugged, but it best represented who Lindy was at heart.

Letting her hair down from its ponytail, Lindy ran her fingers through it and fluffed it around her face, impatient for the moment that she'd be able to find Kurt and tangle her body in his arms. The actuality that she was in Paris instead of Seattle had long left her and all that mattered now was enjoying the moment while she could. 

There was a knocking and muffled voice at the door.

"Lindy? It's Max. Are you ready?"

Lindy opened the door and smiled playfully. "Aren't you supposed to call up here first before just showing up?"

"It's not that fancy," Max retorted.

"Right," Lindy scoffed. "I'm pretty sure they used real gold to paper the walls."

She donned her denim jacket, the same one that she had carried with her since she was a teenager. Worn and ripping at the seams, it was a living testament to the time in which Lindy had first fallen in love with Kurt. She felt it was special that she wear it that night.

The route to the venue was similar to Lindy's first drive through New York City. She stared in wonder out of the car window, ogling at the vastly different architecture of a vastly different world than the one she knew. She decided that so far, she favored Paris — there was an untouchable and unexplainable magic in the atmosphere. No wonder they called it "City of Love." It was fitting that she and Kurt were reuniting in such an aptly named place.

"You get to come backstage with me," Max announced as they arrived outside of a building cornered by Nirvana fans. There were lines of them snaking into the streets, many of them wearing Nirvana shirts and sporting other pieces of Nirvana merchandise.

"This might all go to my head," Lindy teased through a snort. "I feel important."

"You are important," Max countered. She wondered how much Kurt had told him about her. 

They entered the building from a back door, escorted by another man who wore a shirt identifying him as a crew member. Lindy was so excited to see Kurt that her legs felt jelly-like, the blood running through her body heated with yearning.

"You're late," the leading crew member barked. "They're about to go on!"

Sure enough, as Lindy and Max ducked into the darker area directly behind the stage that was flanked by side entrances, Lindy caught a glimpse of Nirvana preparing to walk out.

Her eyes landed on Krist first; how could they not, with him being so tall. But she was quick to locate Kurt standing right next to him, staring absently ahead and running his fingers down the strings of his Fender.

"Hey Kurt," Max yelled.

Kurt looked over, his expression one of slight annoyance. But when he caught sight of Max, and then shifted his view to the right and saw Lindy standing there, his eyes widened.

"Told you I'd come!" called Lindy, cupping her hand around her mouth to magnify her voice across the room to Kurt. He lurched forward to approach her, but was pushed back by a stagehand who waved a finger in his face.

It was time for them to go on.

Kurt had the outrage of a cartoon character barred from winning the heart of the beautiful leading lady as he was herded onto the stage. His lips were set in a scowl when he disappeared with Krist and Dave.

"Stand over there on the side," Max suggested, nudging Lindy forward as the lights went down on the stage. Lindy, having never had such an opportunity, timidly walked forward until she was hidden in the stage wings.

She recalled Nirvana's early beginnings when she had been as much of an integral part of the show as the rest of the Nirvana's roadies. She'd certainly been a good support system back then, attending the gigs and bobbing her head in the audience. Now she felt on top of the world, obtaining the best seat in the whole place to watch Kurt perform.

They were applauded by a studio audience before launching straight into Rape Me, the familiar beginning notes making Lindy tingle with preparation of what was sure to be an amazing show. From the sidelines, she nodded and swayed to the music, wondering if she'd ever be able to sit amongst an audience again after this ultimate experience.

Every now and then, Kurt would glance over at her. He'd keep playing, his fingers scuttling along the neck of his guitar, but he'd glue his fixed stare on Lindy with fiery energy.

One thing was very evident — Kurt was more than happy than that she was there and he had surefire plans just to show her how happy he really was later that night.

Lindy responded avidly to these frequent gazes, even more turned on by the fact that Kurt wore a suit that added flair to his usual grunge style. It hung messily on him, just as his blonde hair did when it fell into his face. It was so attractive that Lindy felt her lower stomach stir and heat flow through her legs. Suddenly, she wanted the show to pick up in speed.

Towards the end of Nirvana's performance, Kurt hunched over his guitar, picking violently at the strings but producing no sound. Frustration twisted his features as he gave the guitar another furious strum. Nothing happened.

Lindy could read his lips form around the words 'fuck this.' Kurt lifted the guitar up and released it, letting it clang to the floor. She wasn't expecting him to do what he did next. Rather than abandon the stage, Kurt grabbed the microphone in front of him and screamed into it with all that he had, forging on with the band's performance of 'Drain You.' 

This act of defiance alone made Lindy want him even more. His irritation and rage glimmered through his usual evasive exterior as Kurt made it explicit to everyone watching that he was determined to finish the set.

As they rounded up the end of the song, Kurt turned around promptly and found a niche in which he could easily slip into the shadows where Lindy stood. He did not even pay mind to the roaring claps of the audience.

Lindy held her breath when Kurt came forward, jerking his head to the side to move his hair from his eyes. The collar of his shirt, wrinkled beneath the vest of his suit, was loose around his neck. He put both of his hands on Lindy's waist and pulled her into him. She barely had time to say hello before he was whispering in her ear.

"Let's go back to the hotel."