American History 1988
Chapter 72 - 67: French Feast

Chapter 72: Chapter 67: French Feast

The last day of March, Cleveland again welcomed a rare good weather. Honestly, if it weren’t for the snow, this city of forests really would live up to its name.

Especially in the university circle, abundant in vegetation, the trees and bushes here have been getting greener by the day since spring began. At this rate, by summer, the entire university circle would be engulfed in forests.

Dean’s classes today were mainly in the afternoon, and under normal circumstances, he might not have finished all his courses until after five.

But not today, he skipped out early on the last two classes. Although the transfer process was in full swing, he was confident in his GPA.

Once outside the campus, Dean glanced at the sky and nodded in satisfaction. The crimson twilight added a touch of romance to this special afternoon.

Hailing a taxi from the school’s entrance, Dean headed straight for downtown. His destination was the East Fourth District, the busiest area of Cleveland and concurrently a historic preservation district.

Since it wasn’t too far from the school, it took him only about fifteen minutes to get off at the street corner. At the entrance of Wade Park stood a middle-aged man in formal dress playing the violin, and after watching for a while and exchanging a few words, Dean turned towards a grand and historic building on the street.

This was one of Cleveland’s most renowned hotels, the Hyatt. Dean had made a reservation here in advance and now he needed to confirm the final arrangement.

"I’m sorry, sir, this is somewhat against the rules?"

"Come on, today is a special day for a girl."

"We can’t be sure if the other guests will mind," the waiter shook his head, unable to help.

Dean looked around the hall, which had only a few people, then to the waiter’s surprise, began talking to each table in succession.

After ten minutes, Dean returned to the front desk with signatures from seven tables of guests.

"So? Can we proceed now?" he shook the signed napkin in his hand.

"Fine, but you only have ten minutes," the waiter finally compromised.

"God bless you!" Dean left the hotel with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned to the university circle, but this time he wasn’t alone.

"Dean, where are you taking me?" Ophelia sat in the car, curiously surveying the scenery outside.

"Ophelia, I’ve said it before, I want to give you an unparalleled night."

"Hey~" Ophelia pushed him away, embarrassed. Was that the kind of thing you say in a car?

"The night is long, we can do many things." Dean, unaware of her misinterpretation, stepped out of the car first when they stopped on East Fourth Street, then hurried to open the door for her.

"Thank you," Ophelia naturally took his arm as she stepped out.

As the sun set, the street lights began to illuminate the city. As they passed Wade Park, a middle-aged man in a tailcoat approached and made a gentlemanly bow.

"Beautiful miss, may I dedicate a piece to you?"

"Me?" Ophelia looked at the middle-aged man in surprise.

"Yes, there are many beautiful moments in life. When they arrive, please savor them." After speaking, the middle-aged man opened his violin case and began to play.

The melodious sound of the violin echoed down the street, through the trees, and over Dean and Ophelia’s ears.

"It’s ’Für Elise’, a piece I really like." Ophelia, having recognized the tune at the start, turned her head with a touch of surprise to tell Dean her discovery.

"Look, Ophelia, today is your lucky day," Dean said, nodding toward the middle-aged man.

In the midst of the beautiful melody, a few minutes sped by. The middle-aged man bowed slightly after the final note. "Miss, today must certainly be your lucky day."

"Thank you so much," Ophelia thanked him happily.

After saying goodbye to the middle-aged man, Dean finally brought her to the Hyatt Hotel.

"Wow~ I love this place, Dean." The old building from the last century instantly captured Ophelia’s heart.

She loved this classical elegance and tranquillity. Once inside the hotel, Ophelia was so excited that she gave Dean a kiss on the cheek.

The 19th-century arched ceilings made Ophelia feel as if she had returned to the Renaissance period.

"Dean, so this is the birthday present you’re giving me?" Ophelia, in her long dress, twirled around the hall with radiant spirits.

"Tonight belongs to you, Ophelia," Dean took her to a table in the center of the hall. After snapping his fingers, the French feast they had prepared in advance was served one after another.

Bouillabaisse, foie gras, lobster à la Parisienne, coq au vin... familiar dishes sparkled in Ophelia’s eyes.

"Dean..."

"I thought since you’ve been away from France for so long, you might like these," Dean said with a smile, preparing the cutlery for her.

"I really like it... Dean... Thank you," Ophelia dabbed at her eyes. She felt a little homesick. But luckily, she had an incredibly thoughtful boy by her side.

"As long as you’re happy," they both contentedly wiped their mouths after a few courses.

Just when Ophelia thought dinner was coming to an end, suddenly a band approached their table in the hall and circled around them.

This was a traditional symphony orchestra, and as they nodded politely in greeting, "Ode to Joy" began to resonate through the luxurious and retro hall.

Ophelia listened and once again, tears uncontrollably streamed down her face. She understood everything now, all of it was arranged by Dean, including the violinist at the park entrance just now.

"Miss, today is your lucky day." As the music halted, the entire hotel lobby erupted with enthusiastic applause.

Surrounded by the well-wishes of numerous guests, orchestra members, and waitstaff, Ophelia flew into Dean’s arms, offering her red lips, bestowing all of herself.

...

"Dean, I’m a little nervous." Inside the luxurious suite, Ophelia lay on the bed like a frightened little rabbit.

"Ophelia, this is the blissful time God has bestowed upon us, and I’ve worn a ’balloon’," Dean constantly reassured the tense Ophelia, like an experienced driver.

"Balloon?" But Ophelia’s focus strangely shifted elsewhere.

"Yeah~" Dean retrieved a box from the bedside, "This is to protect you."

"No, Dean, I want the real you." Ophelia, turned off by seeing the layer of rubber, shook her head in refusal.

"What?" Dean thought he misheard, "The real me?"

"I don’t want a foreign object entering my body," Ophelia softly stroked his chest, "nor do I wish for anything to come between us on such a special day. This is MY day, right?"

"Of... of course," Dean groped to remove the ’balloon’, "So, Ophelia, are you ready?"

"Mm~" Ophelia nodded gently.

It turned out she wasn’t ready, for when Dean breached the barrier, she left a neat row of teeth marks on his shoulder.

Thus, at the same moment, both Dean and Ophelia uttered a soul-searing scream.

...

"I’m sorry, Dean, does it still hurt?" Ophelia touched the row of teeth marks sheepishly.

"No!" Dean lay back on the bed, contented, having just savored a feast, a true French feast.

All the effort had been worthwhile; Ophelia’s skin was whiter and softer than milk, giving Dean and Susie completely different experiences.

The well-behaved girl from a traditional family had a unique charm of her own.

"Ophelia, are you satisfied with this birthday?" Dean embraced her, burying his nose deeply in her hair.

"An incomparable night," Ophelia smiled, using Dean’s earlier promise to answer him.

"Good! Then before we part, beautiful lady, may I return to paradise once again?"

"Maybe~" Not only did Ophelia have a great figure, but her constitution was just as impressive.

...

After sending Ophelia back to rest, Dean, with his desire fulfilled, returned to the dorm full of energy.

"Mother F*cker, I can smell the stench of vinegar on you, Dean," Simon shot Dean a jealous look the moment he walked in.

She was one of the prettiest flowers in the music academy, and now this guy had plucked her.

"When you were with Alisa, I never said that," Dean whistled as he returned to his desk. It was already April, and it was time to send the final transfer materials over to Stanford.

"That’s different, damn it. Ophelia’s suitors could line up all the way to the Cuyahoga River. You know that feeling, right?" Simon felt that Dean was just showing off, something every triumphant bad boy would do.

Simon’s comment indeed gave Dean a secret thrill. Tsk, wondering if he could tour Hollywood a bit after moving to California. The women there would probably make one’s conquering desires surge even more.

"Oh~Shit! Dean, you f*cking enjoyed yourself last night because I see you drooling," Simon, who had toiled the previous night for Price’s List, was filled with resentment now.

"Simon..."

Ding ding ding...

Before Dean could finish his sentence, a sudden ring cut him off.

"Hello, this is Price’s List," Dean quickly took on the customer service role to quell Simon’s jealousy.

"Dean, it’s me, Susie. Are you free lately?"

Susie? Dean quietly turned away from Simon, "What’s up, Susie? I’m in the midst of the final push before transferring."

"Actually, it’s nothing much, just felt like making some seafood pasta for you."

"Uh..." Dean, who had just indulged in a French feast, wasn’t very hungry at the moment.

"Okay, no more jokes. If you’re free, you might want to make a trip back to Youngstown, it’s about collecting some extra rent." From Susie’s tone, Dean had a hunch it was not good news.