Taming of the Shrew - Part 1

Posted on Wed Aug 28th, 2024 @ 10:53am by Charles Xavier & Emma Frost

4,553 words; about a 23 minute read

Mission: Episode 0: X Lang Syne
Location: Manhattan, NY
Timeline: 1986

The grand ballroom of the Metropolitan Club glittered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the marble floors, while elegant tapestries and polished mahogany accents gave a touch of old-world sophistication. The air filled with the gentle hum of refined conversation and the clinking of champagne flutes.

Guests dressed in their finest evening attire circulated around the room, forming small clusters of influence and power. The city's upper crust of business magnates, politicians, and socialites mingled together like schools of fish. It was a veritable Who’s-Who of New York, each playing their own subtle game of charm and strategy.

In the center of it all stood Tony Stark, a striking figure in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His demeanor was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He took a sip from his glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the light, while he pondered the grand question of whether to stay or go.

Across the room, a stunning figure caught his eye. Draped in a dazzling, form-fitting white gown that shimmered with every movement, she exuded an air of confidence and allure. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, as her icy blue eyes keenly observed the room, taking note of every detail.

Tony smiled to himself, recognizing the game that was about to unfold. He casually made his way through the crowd, his path seemingly random yet calculated. As he approached the woman in white, he noticed the briefest flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes, a silent challenge.

Stopping just a few feet away from her, Tony raised his glass slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He knew her name and her reputation, but precious little else from which to draw. Being at such a disadvantage, he pressed what advantage he had to the foremost.

“Emma Frost,” he begins, his voice smooth and confident. “They say ice can burn, and I’ve been dying to find out.” He took a leisurely sip of his bourbon, his eyes never leaving hers. “Tony Stark, by the way, though I’m sure my reputation precedes me as with yours.”

He tilted his head, the smirk deepening. Silence made him uncomfortable, but despite the lack of words, the moment was far from silent. The trained eye would see a virtual information superhighway flowing between them. Tony smirked again, enjoying the rush of their mutual appraisal.

Emma quietly appraised the genius billionaire philanthropist with a cool smile. She took a sip of the mediocre champagne and mulled a response.

“Of course your reputation precedes you, Mr. Stark.” She extended a hand delicately. "Emma Frost. And if you can tell me where I can get a tumbler of that Dewars, I'll add you to my will."

Taking her gloved hand, Tony brushed his lips across her knuckles, though not without breaking eye contact. “Enchante.” His smirk turned into a wolfish grin, a hunter closing in for the kill. “I have that and more at Stark Tower,” he boasted in a nonchalant way. Didn’t everybody have their name in lights on the New York skyline? “I’d happily give you some, if you would kindly indulge me in a small favor?” He waggled his brow, still holding her hand. “A dance.”

Miss Frost pondered the request just long enough to not convey her inner desperation. She was so terribly bored, but Stark's unique thought patterns under the customary lusty feelings might be just the ticket to take the edge off the evening and the boredom of the moment.
"A dance? Oh, I suppose I can indulge such a request. It's been ages since I've been asked ….at least by someone interesting."

“Oh, boredom has been the bane of my existence,” Tony said as he escorted Emma to the dance floor. “Ever since the day I was born. That's why we should seize every moment we can.”

Members of the lowest strata parted to either side for the quasi-royal procession. Tony guided Emma to the center of the dance floor and assumed the position. One hand on the small of her back, holding her close, while the other joined hers in the air.

“I've learned that the best thrills are the ones we make ourselves.” Tony guided their sway with his hips, pulling Emma along in his lead. There was something exhilarating about guiding such an obviously powerful woman. “Wouldn't you agree?”

“I've no argument with that…” The platinum blonde's movements mirrored Stark's as if they had been dancing together for years. Her vivid blue eyes gleamed with rare amusement. "Life is to be lived. A passive existence is a waste of the myriad of opportunities extended to people like ourselves. I want to look back in a hundred years with very few regrets."

“Oh, I don’t mind the regrets,” Tony said, placing the bridges of their noses together as they turned in a circle, “so long as I enjoyed making them.” His cheek ticked up in a half wink.

The classical music went up in tempo, but even that didn’t match their energy. Tony and Emma danced to a tune all their own. What began as a lark in flirtation soon escalated in a salacious performance that would have been the shame of any man who was capable of it. But this was Tony Stark. This was a man who shrugged off remorse like a bad case of fleas.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Tony pressed his mouth right up against Emma’s ear. Even then she could barely hear him over the music and sound of social posturing. “Maybe do something regrettable, say, go to my penthouse suite and open a 60 year-old bottle of Macallan?”

Emma turned her face enough so her breath warmed his cheek enticingly.
“Tempting. I counteroffer with a visit to my own penthouse just a few blocks away. It has quite the spectacular view, even if Stark Tower is within the panorama. I have a bottle of Balvenic I've been saving for a guest such as yourself.”

“Even better.” Tony flashed her a winning grin that he reserved for conquests. He snapped his fingers over his head. “Jarvis! Bring the car around!”

The opportunity of a lifetime was only available for the lifetime of the opportunity, so Tony wasn't going to let a moment go to waste. He extended his arm to Emma. “Shall we?”

Emma slipped her arm through his with a measured smile of her own. “Let's." The socialite genius philanthropist offered a royal wave as the pair exited the gala. "Are you hungry? As in gastronomically? My chef is beyond compare.”

“I could eat,” Tony said, “though I might be hungry for something other than food.” His tone was slick and nonchalant, but his brow fluttered with a knowing gesture. “There’s a great shawarma place near Midtown. That way your chef could have the evening off.”

Emma let Tony's salacious words go without response. Some things were not worth lowering yourself to acknowledge, let alone encourage. Her lips pursed as she considered his suggestion. “I could eat, but I am a bit overdressed for a takeout joint."

“Had a feeling you’d say that, so I’ve already taken care of everything,” Tony assured her.

As they exited the metropolitan club, Tony’s sunset orange Lamborghini rolled up to the curb. His valet, Jarvis, stepped out of the vehicle and opened the passenger side for Emma.

“Madame,” said Jarvis with head bow and hand outstretched toward the door.

"Jarvis.” She spoke only loud enough to make sure the valet was aware of his existence. She stepped past the gull door to expose several meters of exquisite leg through the gaps in her gown’s cunningly designed dress.

Tony leaned into his valet’s ear and whispered, “Cancel every reservation and takeout order except for Shawarma Palace.”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said discreetly.

Emma was busy slipping her opera gloves off, a twitch of a smile playing across the corner of her lips.

The doors closed and the Italian sports car rumbled off into traffic without a glance in the rearview mirror. Tony never showed concern for what was behind him, only in front. He weaved in and out of lanes, pushing the Manhattan crawl to its limit.

“I know it’s a little lowbrow compared to where we just left,” Tony said, drifting through an intersection with the nose of the Lamborghini diving to the pavement as the rear wheels slid a wide arc that somehow avoided other traffic lanes. “But sometimes it’s the small things that make life grand. Never be so big that you can’t enjoy life’s little pleasures.”

The Lamborghini rolled to a stop at the curb. Tony let out two honks, then reached for his billfold. A grinning employee ran outside after just a moment and circled around to the driver’s side. His name tag said Abdel.

“Yes, yes, sir, here you are!” Abdel handed over the food and bowed respectfully.

“Very good, Abdel.” Tony peeled off a one hundred dollar bill and exchanged it for the food. Once he settled it behind them, he pulled out another and tucked it into Abdel’s shirt pocket. “Something for you. Take your lady out for a night on the town.”

Abdel’s eyes flew wide open. “Oh, sir, you are too kind!” He bowed repeatedly. “Most definitely, sir, thank you, sir!”

The Lamborghini pulled off the curb, once again displaying no regard for other drivers. Tony played it cool and kept his hand draped over the steering wheel at the wrist.

“Where’s your penthouse?” Tony asked, heading in the general direction that Emma had first looked when inviting him.

Emma gave the address, checking her reflection in the mirror over her head and ignoring the expert driving for the moment. “The address is 180 East 88th Street."

The cool blonde closed the mirror and reached behind Tony to find something in the bag. She pulled out a number of fries, holding one at Tony's mouth to take at his leisure. “Proper French fries are always best right out of the hot oil. Once they cool off, they're just soggy potatoes."

“Ah, a woman of culture.” Tony let out a chuckle as he nibbled the fry out of her hand. “Begs one to wonder what other surprises you have up your proverbial sleeve.” He cast a salacious glance at her bare arms and shoulders.

Emma chuckled at Tony's observation.
“Oh let me assure you I am far more than a trust fund baby from Boston with an icy cold reputation."
With that she nibbled on the hot fry without further comment.

Even with busy traffic, 88th street didn’t take long to reach. The underground parking garage opened at Emma’s beckon, allowing Tony to park his ride near the private penthouse elevator.

“After you.” Tony had hopped out of the car, slid over the back between the spoiler and rear window, and opened Emma’s door. He offered a hand as much to help as to break the touch barrier again.

"But of course.” The tall blonde extracted herself with an unexpectedly lithe grace. "By the way, I like your Contauch. Mine is pristine White rather than this orange that's just begging for attention. Perhaps sometimes we'll race to Boston for some clam chowder.”

Tony grinned at the challenge. “You’re on,” he said while walking Emma to her elevator. “Of course, as a perfect gentleman I always let the lady finish first.” He kept his smarmy demeanor to a tight, twisted smirk as he followed her onto the elevator. “Second time, though, all bets are off.”

As the elevator shot up to the top floor, Tony cocked his head to one side in a challenge, wit for wit. He was thoroughly enjoying the intellectual foreplay. It made him relish what was surely to come.

Emma gave Tony a glance, a raised eyebrow of amused disdain meeting his smarmy smirk.
“So you're already making excuses for losing? I prefer honest competition. How else can I demonstrate my superiority?”

“Some of the strongest finishes come from behind,” Tony quipped.

With that casually dry purr, she stepped off the elevator into the dimly lit vestibule. The lights slowly increased until a comfortable medium was found. The outstanding view of the Manhattan skyline was easy to see from the vestibule itself.

“So what wine goes with Shwarma?"

“Spanish Rosado, or maybe a Shiraz.” Tony took a quick stroll around the entryway and peeked through as many hallways as were within distance. What he saw was astounding.

The half-moon window that stretched from floor to ceiling had to be 30 feet or better. Recessed interior lighting reflected off the polished white surfaces, giving everything a sharp glow without glare or obvious fixtures. The shadows were as soft as the glowing radiance, giving an ethereal and vaguely ominous appeal to the breath-takingly beautiful penthouse. It made Tony’s blood boil. She impressed him and that was no mean feat.

“Quite the place you’ve got here, Miss Frost,” he said, finishing his cursory assessment and following Emma into the kitchen. “I’ve gotta say you have impeccable taste.”

“And you, Mr Stark, have exceptional perception."

The bag of food was set on the marble countertop, left to slide without a care. Tony strode up behind Emma while she was assessing her wine collection and slid his hands around her waist. “I for one can’t wait to see what you choose,” he whispered over her shoulder.

Emma didn't respond to Tony's bold hands. After all, they had danced with more intimacy just hours earlier.
"I do have a Shiraz that should be quite the ticket.”

She pressed the button on a display and in a few moments a pneumatic tube lowered the wine into a cradle on the counter. She looked over her shoulder to Tony. "It's a pleasant night on the veranda, and the view is without peer. If you'll be so kind as to grab the food I will get a couple of wine glasses. “

Her impish smile and batted eyes showed that she was not totally immune to his actions.

Tony made no effort to hide his reluctance in withdrawing. His hands lingered against her hips before he fully stepped away.

“I am a sucker for a great view,” Tony said, grabbing the food where he’d strewn it. Hopefully the wrap itself had not come undone or the bag would be a sticky mess. On the other hand, it would leave them with just sipping wine over a beautiful city view. Tony smirked at that thought. There were worse detours one could take to the master suite.

Opening the door, Tony took three steps onto the loggia before he saw that Emma was not exaggerating. He turned around to hold the door for her. “You’re right,” he said, his eyes glimmering as he stared directly into hers. “The view is absolutely peerless.”

“Underpromise……” Emma let her touch trail over his chest as she passed him on the way out. "Overdeliver."

She reached back to offer her hand to lead him onward. “I think I'll start a fire in the fire pit. And I think we better eat before that food is totally inedible.”

As the fire pit came to life with a roar of ignited propane, Tony uncorked the wine bottle and poured two generous glasses. Setting the bottle aside, he removed two wraps from the takeout bag and set one next to each glass.

“To promises,” he said, raising his glass in the air. “And to deliverables.”

Emma chuckled softly as she met his toast.
“And to new beginnings….”

She took a sip of the wine before beginning to gingerly unwrap the shawarma.
“So I'm wondering, how do you get Jarvis home since you abandoned him in the middle of Manhattan?"
She half turned to Tony so she was sitting on a hip, her skirt falling to expose her legs to the warmth of the fire.

“I own a cab company, so Jarvis always rides for free.” It might’ve sounded like a boast coming from anyone else, but the genuine warmth in Tony’s voice when he said Jarvis’ name reflected a genuine and abiding love for the man. Clearly their relationship went beyond employer/employee into a closer camaraderie. The sight of Emma’s exposed legs soon turned Tony’s attention elsewhere. “In fact, I’m sure he’s enjoying the night off,” he said idly, his eyes lingering a moment longer than was polite. By force of will, he looked up into Emma’s crystal blue eyes and grinned. “As you did your chef. I noticed he’s conspicuously absent.”

Emma's smile warmed with his question. She showed no concern regarding his gaze. After all she was the one who picked the dress in the first place. “I do have an excellent chef in residence. I had given her the night off since I expected to be totally involved with the gala tonight. Had it been necessary, I do have a significant list of specialty chefs available at my beck and call for special moments such as when I'm entertaining a guest such as you.”

She took a tentative nibble from the Shwarma.
“Not bad, but the fries are a lost cause. I suppose we could reheat them in the air fryer if we want."

“Not necessary.” Tony flung his cold fries over the railing, letting them soar on the wind. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

She looked at Tony with quiet amusement. "I can't imagine you owning something so totally mundane as a cab company. Perhaps jet shuttles, but not cabs.”

“Mundane?” Tony pressed his hand to his chest. “Miss Frost, I’ll have you know I am a man of the people! I’m also a vicious gambler. I won the cab company in a high stakes poker game.” He sipped from his glass. “How about you?”

Emma's smile grew more sly and amused.
“Oh, I've played a hand or two in my time. It's not very challenging. I'm very good at judging people. Everyone has a tell. These days I'd rather watch a game than actually participate. People get angry when I play. I don't enjoy the anger that comes when people lose to me. It takes all the fun out of it. That is unless I find somebody who needs to be taken down a peg or two. Those bad losers? I enjoy crushing their egos under my Louis Vuittons.”

Emma took another nibble before continuing. “I've got a cosmetics line that I'm trying to nurse towards a higher goal. I'm looking for ways to retard aging. I figure if I'm successful, the company will make Apple look like Amway."

Business talk always brought out the genius in Tony. “That sounds like a heavy lift for a cosmetics line. The biologics division of Stark Industries may be able to lend a hand, though. I'm sure my division head could find space between curing cancer and male pattern baldness.”

Emma waved her fingers dismissively. "I have several divisions of my own hard at work on this already. There seems to be a common link between cancer and aging. They're all linked to the recovery of the cells. If we can figure out the switch, we can turn off cancer as well as engage proper recovery of the cells. That will fix both problems, or so my very expensive scientists tell me."

“Really?” Tony’s eyebrow arched up as he considered that. “Now that does present some interesting possibilities. Reintroducing apoptosis to abnormal cell division gone wild doesn’t seem inherently related to growing old and gray… unless…” He stroked his soul patch in thought. “Smart biotech at the femto scale could possibly regulate and deregulate telomeric values in the nucleotide chains. The right little swimmers could force apoptosis for abnormal cells and prevent further division while also staving off DNA oxidation and methylation.” He looked back at Emma with a glint in his eye. “Yeah, maybe your very expensive scientists are onto something after all. Count me in on your next round of investment.”

Emma's expression grew more intrigued by the moment with Tony's speculation. Some of it was nothing more than scientific word salad, but a number of the directions he suggested carried some profound avenues to explore.

The sleek blonde got a little closer, her fingers gliding lazily along Tony's jawline. Her lidded eyes flashed with delight.
“Investment? You keep coming up with such profound thoughts, I might be suggesting a….merger in the near future.”

“I was hoping you might say that.” Tony slid his hand onto her knee. “I’m very interested in sinking a load of capital into the right investment.” He canted his head and leaned into Emma’s fingers. “But it would have to be pretty irresistible. Once I go for it, baby, it’s all in.”

Emma's eyes slid from his face to linger upon his hand and where it rests, her eyebrow rising.
“Oh I'm quite confident you'd love nothing more than to sink everything you've got straight into my…incomparable…holdings.”
She wet her lips as she moved ever closer.
“But you must understand that I just can't let any day trader under the hood of my enterprise. I'd need to closely examine with whom I was getting into bed …metaphorically speaking, of course. My books are pristine and beyond reproach. I would require the most stringent of examinations to ensure my financial purity.”

Tony smirked at their banter, risking his hand rising higher up her thigh. “I would expect nothing less. Due diligence is a must. You may vet me any way you wish.” Closing in for the kill, Tony hovered his lips over Emma’s just beyond physical contact. “Examine away.”

“Excellent!"
Emma pushed herself around Tony to her feet and began to walk back inside with a true spring in her step. She was like a child on Christmas morning.
"I'll have my auditors reach out to your COO at our earliest convenience.”

Misreading her cue, Tony jumped up and trotted after her like a puppy dog. Only when she wasn't looking, of course. It wouldn't do to have him looking too eager. Brash and confident, yes. Eager, no.

“With our business concluded,” he said, coming up behind her as he had before, whispering into her neck, “perhaps we should move on to pleasure.”

Emma didn't pull away, she mewled with delight. She reached up over her shoulder to run her fingers through his hair with a saucy purr. She leaned back into him and undulated against him. She turned her face to his, a certain wantonness replacing her cool control for the moment.

“You obviously know what a woman like you does to a man,” Tony said plainly. As he spoke, he leaned in for a kiss against her neck. His lips only grazed her skin before he pulled up to whisper in her ear, “Let me show you what I can do to a woman like you.”

Emma all but purred with Tony's efforts to seal the deal. They were a tangle as she pulled him towards the vestibule. For every graze of his lips against the tenderness of her throat, her own caresses ignited paths of cold fire. There was a simmering passion inside the seemingly cool woman, and it threatened to engulf Tony.

“Anthony…”
The pair somehow found themselves at the elevator.
“I'm going to tell you something that I'm certain you have rarely heard."
She cupped his face and kissed him at last. It was a moment that eclipsed all others in his testosterone drenched libido. When she at last relinquished him, she smoothed her hand tenderly over his cheek.
“No."

Tony blinked in surprise. It was like the breaking of a spell. “No?” The word was familiar enough but it's application was not. “No… to what? What do you mean?”

Emma sighed regretfully, even as she slid her arms underneath his.
“Anthony, you don't understand how tempted I am to give you a night that would fuel your dreams for a lifetime. But your attention span when it comes to women is astonishingly brief. And I understand that. This world is a target-rich environment for a man such as you."

She nuzzled her cheek against his, even as she spoke.
“I don't want to be Miss November for you, or just the notch for this week or even just today on your bedpost. And at the rate you're going, I'm surprised your bedpost isn't more than whittling shavings at this point. But I digress."

“White ivory,” Tony said, taunting her back with his chicanerous banter, “made from the tusks of sabretooth tigers. You’d love my bedposts.”

Emma nodded safely with the revelation.
“I hope they're sturdy, the bedposts I mean. Under the right conditions, I tend to express myself with great… exuberance.”

“Now that I don’t doubt,” Tony replied with a smarmy tone. “So let’s run with that feeling and see where it takes us.”

“One of my defining sins is avarice," Emma purred. "I want all of you. And if that means delaying pleasure now for even more pleasure later, I'm willing to make that investment and momentary sacrifice."

Tony could handle a multi-phased strategy. “Does that mean you’re free tomorrow evening?” His tone said he was relenting but his hands did not. They were everywhere, taking memories of every curve for future reference. “Because I am, starting now.”

"Tomorrow evening? Let me think.”
Her voice was calm as she considered her schedule, even as Tony's hands roamed her form. The shimmering ivory gown clung to her like flawless enamel on a sports car, classic lines executed in a spectacular manner. His curious hands flowed over her, awakening fresh nerves in their wake. Tony could feel her body responding to his touch, even as her voice just as well as been reciting the day's stock market results.

“I do have tickets for Pavarotti at the Met…but that's in two days. Tomorrow night? I can clear my schedule."
Emma looked to Tony with a curious gleam in her eyes even as she picked one of his hands from her breast. She selected his ring finger and casually slid her lips over the digit. She enjoyed the moment, her tongue and lips enticingly slipping over flesh.

“Tomorrow then…” Tony fought the urge to gulp and lost the battle. He recovered by kissing the top of her hand. “I'll…be in touch.” The look in his eye was penetrating, like that of a predator wolf, though it was tempered by the glint of admiration. “Sweet dreams, Miss Frost.”

She offered him a pleasant smile as the door slid open. "Feel free to call me Emma."

“The first time I call you Emma…” Tony stepped into the elevator and pivoted on his heel to give her a parting look. “... will be when I’m screaming it into the back of your head.” The elevator doors closed on his smarmy grin.

To Be Continued...

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