by Lila Lacroix
“It is a photographer’s dream, Versailles. What I would not give to have a day with a model in the palace, it would be incredible,” Jacques told me. “It is such a large place, I am very pleased that the république decided to open it to the public.”
“Absolutely. I understand why everyone says it is a must to visit to anyone who goes to Paris.”
As we entered the Trianon area, we began by passing through a “small” house which had belonged to Marie Antoinette, where she often spent her time. I say small, but in reality it was larger than any house I’d ever been in. Three stories tall, with the lower level having a full kitchen where servants would make the Queen food and bring it up to her. I even got to see the toilet where the Queen did her business!
We passed through the rooms together, and as we went back through the house, I glimpsed into the kitchen from an adjoining room. Imagine my surprise when, standing in front of the oven, was the same stranger from earlier that day. We locked eyes, and I didn’t know what to do when Jacques came up behind me. The stranger immediately turned around and left.
“Is everything alright?” Jacques asked in his caring fashion.
“Yes, fine. I was just thinking about the servants who must have dedicated their lives to cooking for the Queen,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell Jacques about the sexy stranger for obvious reasons. But was he following us? I threw the thought from my head. He couldn’t be. Surely he was just another tourist from somewhere, who happened to be at the same sights around the same time as we were. Stop being crazy I told myself.
But when I saw the man again on the path a third time, I started to think it was more than a coincidence. Almost more worrying, however, was the reaction of my body every time I saw him. My breath would get caught in my throat, my pulse would quicken and I could feel my chest heaving up and down underneath my coat. Why was I reacting like this to a complete stranger? It was like he cast a spell on me. I could feel a tingle down below whenever I saw him. I couldn’t deny those feelings, but why was I having them? I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand my body. I tried to force the feelings aside. After all, the man was a total stranger. I had no idea who he was, there was no reason for me to be acting like this.
Suddenly, Jacques’ phone rang.
“Bonjour? Oui, une urgence vous dites?”
I could understand enough French by now to know that there had been an emergency. Jacques hung up the phone and gave me an apologetic look.
“I must be a terrible host and head back to the city. I’m afraid my mother has had an emergency and is in the hospital.”
“Oh my God, is she going to be alright?” I asked, concerned.
“Yes, she fell from a ladder and broke her leg. She will be fine, but I do need to go and see her. I must apologize for leaving you here alone.”
“No, no apology necessary. I completely understand. Would you like me to join you on the trip back to the city?”
“Of course not, you are at Versailles, you must enjoy Versailles. Please, do not ruin your day on account of me.” Jacques handed me a business card. “If ever you want to see more of Paris, please do call me.”
“Thanks, Jacques. Best wishes to your mother,” I told him as he left. I suddenly found myself standing alone in the middle of Versailles.
I kept walking, following the trail, spotting some buildings up ahead. I went that way and what I found absolutely amazed me. It was as though I’d stepped back in time hundreds of years. There were at least half a dozen buildings, all done in an old style, as though this was a miniature village. People weren’t allowed inside the buildings, but we could wander through the yards. Wonderfully kept hedges decorated the sides of the buildings, and a small river wandered through the area, with beautiful white swans swimming noiselessly across.
There was a dairy, some houses, a mill, and a number of other buildings. I found out that Marie Antoinette had a whole miniature village constructed here, a village which was kept up and which she visited. I literally couldn’t believe this existed. I felt like I was really in the 18 century, and to my even greater shock, as I went further along the path there was a barn, complete with a number of farm animals living in the area.
I pet one of the donkeys and a goat, smiling to myself. This wasn’t exactly what I had imagined when I learned that I was going to a palace today, but I couldn’t possibly have enjoyed myself more. This was the perfect ending to a great day.
All of a sudden, I felt someone coming up next to me. I turned around to look, as he was closer than most strangers came, especially since we were almost alone in this section, and I gasped. It was him. The stranger from earlier. Somehow he was even more intoxicating up close. My pulse quickened, and it wasn’t from fear. No, I recognized this sensation, and it was desire. I wanted this man, and I’d never so much as spoken a word to him before. My panties were getting hot and moist, and I had no idea why.
He was so close to me, he was electrifying. I could practically smell him, his manly, musky scent. My head began to spin as my senses were overtaken completely. Adrenaline rushed through me, my legs felt weak. I grabbed the wooden fence separating us from the animals just to make sure I didn’t fall over.
When the stranger spoke, it was like he was taking me with his voice. He had a strong French accent, that perfect, sexy accent. The way he emphasized the wrong parts of words, the way he pronounced the letters differently, it drove me absolutely insane. It was like with every word his tongue was slipping into me itself.
“Hello, I apologize for interrupting you like this. My name is Philippe Vaillancourt, and I could not help but notice you with Jacques Laflamme.”
I didn’t really know how to react. How did this guy know Jacques? Why didn’t Jacques say hi to him? Maybe Jacques didn’t know him, maybe this Philippe was simply a fan of his photography. What I did know was that I wanted him to keep talking. Every time he spoke tingles ran through my body. I reacted to Philippe like I had with no other man before in my life.
“Yes, yes, I was with Jacques.”
“Please, what is your name?”
“I’m Sophie. Sophie Burnett,” I replied. Way to obey all those lessons about stranger danger and just tell him your name right off the bat I scolded myself, but it was too late. Something about Philippe drove me insane, it made me answer him straight away.
“Sophie, please. I implore you. Please stay away from Jacques Laflamme.”
“What? Why would I do that?” I looked up into those deep, dark brown eyes of Philippe’s. They were practically black, and I could tell deep inside of them that there was pain. I knew my eyes held pain as well, but it was nothing like this. Something had happened to Philippe. He held my gaze, his eyes practically begging me to believe him. I could barely look at him, his gaze was so strong, so powerful, I felt like I should avert my eyes.
I let my gaze fall to the ground, realizing I was breathing much more heavily than usual.
“I… I can’t tell you,” Philippe replied. “I have to go. I shouldn’t have come. But please, Sophie, please listen to me. Stay away from that man.”
“Wait!” I cried as he turned away. “Why are you telling me this?” Philippe turned back to look at me.
“When I saw you for the first time, you were like a lone star, shining bright on a cold night. I knew I had to say something. I can’t let Jacques extinguish your flame.”
Without another word he turned and left. I stood, frozen to the spot, watching him leave. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, like it wanted to break free. I felt dizzy. Had all this really just happened? What did he mean about Jacques extinguishing my flame? Holy shit, that man was sexy. That was really what it all came back to. That man was sexier than any I’d ever met in my life. It was like every time I got a glimpse of him electricity sparked between us. I had never had that kind of reaction with anyone before, ever.
Still, as I walked slowly back to the front of the palace to take the train back home, I couldn’t help but think abo
ut his words. Why did he want me to stay away from Jacques? Was it simply because he wanted me for himself, and was trying to get rid of the competition? Surely not. For one thing, I might not be bad looking, but I didn’t consider myself that beautiful, especially not in a country where half the women were in designer clothes on any given day. On top of that, if his goal was to get with me, why wouldn’t he leave his number or something? It made no sense.
The entire train trip back to the city all I could think about was Philippe Vaillancourt. He was so unlike any other man I’d ever met, and yet I barely knew him at all. I’d only spoken a few words with him, and yet the impact of those words hit me like a freight train. As I thought about those deep brown eyes, so dark they were practically black, I wondered what the secret he hid behind them was. There was pain in that face, I could absolutely recognize that. Pain, but also inexplicable beauty. When I thought about the dimples in his face as he smiled at me, I felt my sex getting hot, juices beginning to well up inside of me. What was this? This was so unlike me. I didn’t understand it at all, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
I stared at the business card Jacques gave me for a while. It had his phone number on it. Would I call him? Of course I would. But why did Philippe warn me away from him? After all, Jacques was the kindest, most gentlemanly, mature person I knew. Surely there was no reason for me to avoid him, was there?
Chapter Seven
The next day, when I met up with Noelle and Claire for coffee, I told them all about what had happened at Versailles, about the sexy Philippe, and his strange warning.
“Oh my God, Sophie, that is so strange,” Claire exclaimed when I finished the story, both of their eyes completely focused on me.
“But, what does that man, Philippe, what does he know about Jacques, why did he tell you to stay away?”
“I don’t know, that’s the thing,” I replied. “I asked, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“That story is crazy, absolutely crazy!” Noelle said. “It is the sort of thing you see in movies… a sexy stranger, the handsome gentleman. Who knew that you would have met a man like Jacques, all because of the fact that I wanted a photo in front of Notre Dame in the snow!”
“I know! He’s actually really nice. I don’t know if I want to date him like, seriously or anything like that, but he’s the type of man you can trust, you know? The sort of person that you feel you can tell anything.”
“That’s magical, you’re so lucky Sophie.”
“Oh, not that lucky. I actually came to France because my old boyfriend broke up with me and I didn’t think I could get over him.”
“No way!”
I told them all the story of Mike. It was the first time I’d told anybody who hadn’t been part of my inner circle back in San Francisco. I realized as I was telling them the story that I had almost completely stopped thinking about him lately. I was actually getting over him, something that even a few months ago I wouldn’t have thought possible. Instead I spent my days thinking about Philippe. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. Those dark, mysterious eyes, the hair so scraggly, yet perfect, the perfectly sculpted face... all of it made my body react in ways I didn’t know was possible at just the thought of someone. Whenever I thought about him I felt hot, like my blood was lava, waiting to bubble over. It was like my nerves were set to level eleven. Everything I felt in my body was so much more noticeable than it seemed at other times; I felt every deep breath that left my mouth, I felt my chest heaving up and down, my nipples straining against my bra, the heat building in my sex, and that was without seeing the man at all.
“Are you going to sleep with him?” Claire asked. I laughed.
“I dunno, what the hell, who just asks questions like that out of the blue?”
“Oh I don’t know,” Claire replied, badly imitating my American accent. “Of course you know, you had to have thought about it.”
“Well, I guess probably not really. I honestly hadn’t. I dunno. Like, maybe in the heat of the moment, I guess? I’m never going to see him again anyway, so like, no, I’m not going to sleep with him.”
I could feel the blush crawling up my face.
“Oh look, she is embarrassed!” Noelle exclaimed, and the two of them set about teasing me. I stuck my tongue out and threw a napkin at Noelle and Claire as I felt my face reaching all new shades of red I didn’t even know existed.
If only they knew I dreamed of sleeping with Philippe basically every night.
The Friday the week after Versailles I decided to call Jacques. I took out his card and dialed his number.
“Hello, Jacques, it’s Sophie.”
“Ah, bonjour Sophie, how was the rest of your trip to the palace after I left?”
“It was good, thank you,” I replied, the memory of Philippe next to me by the farm animals coming back to life. “How is your mother doing?”
“She is fine. She has had worse, she’s already back on her feet and simply needs crutches to get around. She’s a fighter, she has already refused all of my help to get her groceries and help.”
“Ah, I’m happy to hear that,” I replied.
“Listen, if you would like, I have been invited to the opening of a club tonight, if you would like to join me? Although I completely understand if because of your family’s history you prefer to do something else.”
I thought about it for a minute, and decided to go. After all, there was nothing saying I couldn’t simply have one drink and stop, or even no drinks at all. Besides, I was twenty years old now. When I got back to America in a few months I was going to turn twenty one with all my friends. I had to get used to being around alcohol, even if I avoided it, or I knew my social life was going to go to complete shit very quickly.
“Thank you, that sounds nice. I would love to join you,” I replied.
“Excellent. Would you like me to come pick you up and we can take the Metro, or would you like me to give you the address and I can meet you there?”
“Why don’t you come and get me?” I asked, feeling bold. I gave Jacques my address and he promised to come and get me around 9:30 that night. I spent longer than usual getting ready, scanning my wardrobe looking for something appropriate for a club. I began to regret my more conservative choice of clothing, I didn’t have anything nearly slutty enough for my liking right now. Eventually I settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top where everything above my cleavage was lace. It showed off my arms, that was going to have to do. I coupled them with a pair of stiletto boots and a clutch purse, and as I looked at myself in the mirror I decided I was hot. I hoped I was hot enough to fit in though, somehow in Paris I always felt as though I had the fashion sense of a 13 year old living in the 90s. Everyone who lived here was so fashion forward, always wearing the latest and greatest clothes and looking amazing in them. I had always had a nice enough figure, but compared to the French I felt like an elephant.
I tried to keep my cool, but I started pacing around and looking at the clock as soon as it hit 9:20. When the knock at the door finally came, I had to stop myself from jumping up and getting it immediately. I took a long, deep breath before finally greeting Jacques.
“Are you ready for a night out?” he asked as I answered, a large smile plastered onto his face. “This club is supposed to be the next big thing in Paris.”
“Awesome, I’m excited,” I answered, grabbing my purse and heading out.
We spoke banalities on the way to the club, where Jacques was immediately greeted by the bouncer at the door and we were led past the line of dozens of people waiting to get in. I felt like I was famous! This was the sort of thing that only happened to the exceedingly rich, or exceedingly beautiful, of which I was neither.
The inside of the club was crazy. Music pounded so hard it felt like the floor was shaking. The bar to the left lined the entire wall, neon blue light shining down from the bar counter to the floor. There had to be hundreds of people in here, all of them with a drink in hand. I began to su
ddenly feel a bit of fear gripping me. Maybe coming here hadn’t been the best idea after all. But it wasn’t like I could just leave now. Not when we’d just arrived. Maybe I just won’t drink I thought to myself, but a minute later Jacques excused himself, and returned with a drink in hand.
I think he must have noticed my expression when I saw it.
“Oh, Sophie, I am so sorry, please allow me to take it back, I will get you a soda.”
“No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I’ll just have this one drink,” I replied, smiling. After all, what harm could one drink do? I’d had that glass of wine at the restaurant with him, no problem. And Jacques was so understanding, the way he immediately offered to get me something else, I knew I would be fine with him. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I kept the drink.
As I sipped the drink I began to feel a buzz. It was like I was suddenly lightheaded, and there were no problems in the world at all. Maybe this drink was stronger than I thought. I wondered if I should leave it half full and maybe have a glass of water, but it tasted nice, my brain almost forced me to keep drinking it. I finished it, and a few minutes later I asked for another. Jacques brought it to me, and again I drank, as Jacques encouraged me to dance with him.
Everything after that became somewhat of a blur. I remembered being on the dance floor, music and lights pounding all around me, with a drink in my hand. I also remembered a different drink, had I had a third? I remembered Jacques dancing with me, his hands on my hips. I remembered thinking it was strange, but that it felt good. I remember thinking about Philippe, wondering if he was there.
After that, everything went black. When I woke up the next morning, I was in bed, still fully clothed. There was a glass of water on the bed next to me along with two headache tablets and a note. My head was on fire, an unbelievable pounding that felt like it would never end. I grabbed the tablets and washed them down with the water, then leaned back against the bed, willing the pills to work instantly.
