Taxi to Paris

by Ruth Gogoll

  She fought with herself. She knew she'd have to leave now if she were to put an end to all of this. I didn't dare consider whether she loved me, or would ever love me. But I could be certain that she liked me. At least that was a start.

  "I can't concern myself with those feelings," she explained. She'd gotten hold of herself again. She did seem somewhat discomfited, but distant at the same time. "I don't know what to do with them. Please don't ask that of me."

  "I'm not asking anything of you," I assured her, as calmly as possible. I knew she wasn't being cruel on purpose. She was just trying to protect herself. "But is it so terrible to be loved?"

  "It's threatening," she said, momentarily more open than I'd expected. "It scares me."

  Love scared her? Why? I knew from my own experience that this kind of attention could seem oppressive coming from some women. I'd probably been guilty of that sometimes myself. But I also knew that nothing had happened between the two of us that even came close to that kind of situation. So the reason had to come from her past. Of course, I couldn't change anything about that. The only thing I could do was to treat her as gently and lovingly as I was able, in order to show her that things could go differently. But first she'd have to let me close enough to do that!

  "Am I threatening to you?" I asked directly. She was such a master of evasion, no other route seemed likely to get me anywhere. But I was afraid of the answer as well.

  "You win," she said. That could mean anything in the world.

  Chapter 10

  The days went by like a dream. She simply stayed with me. Once, over breakfast, I asked her if she didn't need to go back to her apartment. "No," she said. "I'm officially in Paris."

  "But you've never even..." She'd neither made a telephone call nor left my apartment.

  "I didn't have to tell anyone. It was already scheduled." She looked at me mischievously. "Before you kidnapped me."

  The memory was embarrassing. I blushed.

  She kissed me on the mouth quite familiarly and looked me in the eye. "I'm grateful to you for that." Gratitude wasn't exactly what I was looking for from her, but... Without my encouragement, she went right for another diversion. "And clothes, it seems, are not necessary - am I right?"

  That was true. She embarrassed me all over again. We spent almost 24 hours a day in bed. I shivered with pleasure. Then I said, regretfully, "Too bad I have to go back to work tomorrow."

  She bit into a roll. "I have to work on Monday myself," she said, completely unintentionally.

  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. The whole time she'd been here, I'd never once thought about that. "You have to go back to work?"

  She looked at me without thinking. "But of course. My vacation is over, too."

  I just hadn't been prepared for that. Sure, she had her profession and I mine. And we'd both taken a vacation.

  "Don't look so sad," she said comfortingly. "You'll still have time in the evenings. And I'm usually free then, too."

  Just like I'd thought: love in the morning was her specialty. I pulled myself together. I'd known this all along. If I'd put it out of my mind, that was my own fault. I agreed reluctantly. "Yeah. We can get together in the evening."

  She came over to me and looked at me lovingly. "But we've only just..." I said, although her face was already bringing my insides to a boil.

  "Yes." She was already at my mouth. "But I have to make up two years."

  I had to laugh. I still couldn't quite believe that. Her kiss became more urgent. I rose against her. "No," she said, "stay in your chair."

  I sank back. She leaned over me. Her hand lay gently on my shoulder, and she kissed me with every ounce of tenderness she could muster. Her kisses were absolutely incredible. I didn't think that was a consequence of her job. It had to be natural talent. Such things just couldn't be learned.

  When she pulled back for a moment, I said, "I love it when you kiss me like that. Sometimes, I never want it to stop. I've always been partial to kissing, but with you, I've become completely addicted to it."

  This type of compliment could always make her uneasy. Now was no exception. "We could just kiss, if that's what you want," she said. She didn't seem terribly excited by the prospect, but she'd offered it immediately. I'd have to be more careful with what I said. If it sounded like an honest wish, she would offer to fulfill it instantly. The woman of my wildest dreams! Now I knew that that could also be fatal.

  This time, I teased her about it a little. "Yes," I suggested. "That's a good idea."

  She seemed disappointed, but as always, she put her own wishes aside. "Yes," she said.

  I batted my eyelashes innocently at her. "May I choose the place for it?"

  There was a slight delay before she figured it out. "You lying dog!" she grumbled, almost lovingly, as she bent back down over me.

  The sweetness of her kisses was simply indescribable. When I could no longer stand the tension, I pushed her hands down over my body and between my legs. She let them hang there, motionless. "Do you want it now?" she asked sensuously.

  "Yes," I moaned, at the very edge of sanity. She did nothing. "Please -" I said urgently.

  "Do you really want it?" she asked again. Something stirred in the back of my mind, but I could no longer think. She had something in mind. The presence of her tongue in my mouth robbed me of all conscious thought.

  "Yes," I moaned again. "Please do it."

  She pushed into me with two fingers. I yelped with surprise and tightened. Her fingers remained inside me, motionless. "You're very wet," she said. "It doesn't hurt." She began to move her fingers very carefully - very gently, and without rhythm. "Just the opposite - it feels good." She did everything to take away my fear. Her voice calmed me. And she was right.

  At first, I didn't feel anything at all. Then, she stroked a spot just inside the entrance. That sent an intense feeling of warmth through my body. My arousal had disappeared from fright, but now, she stroked me gently back to the top again. When I began to move against her with more and more desire, she carefully pushed back. I tightened up again, but only for a moment. She repeated the motion until I'd gotten used to it again. Now I felt nothing but pure lust. I pushed against her, trying to take as much of her in as I possibly could. She matched my rhythm. I felt like she was completely inside me. She knew better than I did what I wanted. When I finally came around her fingers, she sighed. "I knew you could do it." I looked once more into her eyes, then fell asleep.

  When I awoke a short time later, I was in bed. She'd carried me over. I didn't remember anything about it. I had, of course, been aware of her strength and had given it a rather negative meaning at the beginning of our acquaintance. But when I thought about it now, it seemed completely improbable that this could be the same woman.

  She came in and sat next to me on the bed. "I made coffee," she said. "Would you like some?"

  "Would I like what?" I teased.

  She scooted herself a bit closer to the edge of the bed, farther from me. "No, no," she said, carefully fending me off. "I'm not on the menu."

  She was like that sometimes. In contrast to her professional willingness, she was otherwise rather aloof. To allow oneself to be seduced by her was easy; to seduce her was another story - one that had caused me more than one headache already. First and foremost, she could never have the feeling that I wanted something from her. That often made her switch immediately to "pro" mode. If I gave her the feeling that it was her idea, and it was just "accidental" that she got something out of it, then everything was fine. I understood completely, but it did tend to make things rather tiresome. For that reason, I didn't start teasing her again, but rather asked, "Why did you go and do that?"

  Careful, nervous attention crossed her face. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No, of course not. You would've noticed that." I looked at her, and felt myself get almost dizzy with love for her. I smiled. "As gentle as you were."

  She relaxed again. Mothers were called "overprotective"
when they acted like this - could lovers be the same way? I leaned over toward her and kissed her very softly, so she wouldn't get the wrong idea. "You were wonderful," I reassured her. "And it was very good."

  "For me, too." Now she smiled again. Then she answered my question. "I just think you shouldn't renounce anything you've never tried before. If you hadn't liked it, at least you'd know why." She was the pragmatic one, through and through.

  "Will you bring me my coffee in bed, or do I have to try my wobbly legs?" I joked, in order to think about something other than making love to her.

  She went for it. "Was it so bad?" she joked back.

  "Much worse," I philosophized, with the most deadly serious face I could manage. "I've redefined the word ‘orgasm'. They're going to have to rewrite the dictionary."

  She laughed again, pleased, making me happy again for the moment. "Well, if that's how it is, I'll have to bring it to you." She stood up and went out in her usual graceful way.

  I had to face the gloomy thought that this was our last day together. It occurred to me that I had no idea what she did on the weekend. Perhaps she'd have time then. But that really wasn't enough. I wanted her forever.

  She came back in with the coffee. "Do you have the weekends free?" I asked casually.

  She laughed unconcernedly. "Like a regular worker, you mean?"

  I had to laugh at the picture myself. "Yeah, sort of."

  She answered as though I'd asked her about a dentist's appointment. "Not generally," she said. "But most of the time, I'm not busy the whole day. Just in exceptional cases."

  These "exceptional cases" didn't please me a bit, but what could I do? I tried to think about the positive aspects of the situation. "So maybe we'd have the weekend to ourselves sometimes?" It was the first time we'd ever discussed the future. I noticed some hesitation. She didn't want to set anything in stone.

  "Sure," she said, unconvincingly. "Sometimes."

  "Good," I said. I wasn't really thinking that, but perhaps I'd be able to convince her over time to keep the weekends free.

  Over time? What was it that I had in mind? A steady relationship with a -? Even in my thoughts, I couldn't say the word. Could this ever turn out well? But what relationship ever comes with a guarantee? And for that matter - what had she said before? Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.

  I looked at her and adored her. How should I continue from here? Any attempt to get closer to her would be met with avoidance or with the professional routine.

  "Bring your coffee in here," I said, as harmlessly as possible. "I hate to drink mine alone."

  She looked at me warily, but I must not have seemed too dangerous. Perhaps she assumed that I was still too weak. She guessed wrong about that!

  She got her cup and sat next to me on the bed. I slid to one side to make room for her. "Come here," I said, "I want to lean against you, you big strong woman."

  Now she was torn. On one hand, I'd expressed a wish. One the other hand, she knew that if she did what I asked, she'd be within my reach. As she most often did, she fulfilled the wish. She sat closer to me.

  That still didn't solve the whole problem. If I'd started to behave tenderly toward her, she would've gotten out immediately - either out of bed or out of her private persona. And I wanted her so. My fingers strained to touch her. Instead, I held my coffee cup with both hands, trying not to make her suspicious. "May I?" I asked before leaning against her. That always calmed her.

  I finished my coffee slowly. Since she was sitting next to me, I had to reach across her to put the empty cup on the nightstand. Nothing could be more innocent! On my way back, I let my hand fall onto her thigh - completely coincidentally, of course. I stretched myself out a little closer and laid my head on her breast. She was wearing one of my long men's shirts. I would have liked most to undress her, but that would've been absolutely deadly. She would've turned to ice. I yawned. "Are you tired, too?"

  That finally convinced her that I didn't want anything from her. My hand moved on her thigh as if I were seeking a comfortable position in which to fall asleep. In doing so, I brushed up against one of her erogenous zones - again, as if by coincidence. She became restless. I rearranged my head a bit on her breast. I accidentally brushed against her nipple. Her unrest grew. My hand still brushed sleepily against her thigh. I tried to breathe deeply, as though I were falling asleep.

  She squirmed back and forth on the bed. Then she put down her coffee cup and laid an arm over me. Slowly, her hand began to stroke my breast. I rejoiced internally. At the same time, I gritted my teeth to avoid reacting to her touch too quickly.

  After a little while, I acted like I'd been woken up. "What are you doing?" I asked sluggishly.

  That made her smile. "Don't you like it?" Now I had her!

  I turned to face her more, and slid one hand absently under her shirt. "Yes," I murmured, still a bit sleepily. "Keep going."

  I wanted to kiss her so badly, but I had to wait for her to come to me. It took awhile, but then she laid down next to me and turned me onto my back. She kissed me. I noticed that she was already pretty turned on. As soon as I felt her mouth against mine, I lifted myself slowly and turned over with her, until she lay beneath me. Now I'd passed the critical point: I could continue. I loved her so much - we'd have to work on this problem!

  I kissed her long and deep. She moaned in my mouth. I'd learned a few tricks from her! With both hands, I slowly pushed her shirt up. When I could see her breasts, I wondered anew at her beauty. I stroked her silky skin over and over. Her skin was simply incredible. I followed my fingers with my lips.

  "Let me take this off." Her voice sounded forced.

  I didn't want to be distracted. "It's OK."

  "Please." Her voice became more urgent. "Let me take it off."

  Now I knew what was going on. She was reminded of how most women slept with her while she still had all her clothes on. A new point I'd have to watch out for in the future. I had to let her do it herself, so I sat back on my heels and said, "OK, go ahead."

  She pulled the shirt off over her head and lay back down. Now I'd have to start closer to the beginning, because she'd been thinking about her job. Nothing I did could seem even a little bit like a client. I leaned back into her arms. My hand caressed her stomach gently, tracing little patterns over her skin. "Are you all right?"

  She didn't answer right away. That in itself was an indication that I hadn't guessed wrong about the situation. Then she said, "It's been a long time since I've felt as good with someone else as I do with you."

  This was the first time she'd ever told me anything like that. I'd only occasionally believed that I detected it. The fact that she said it out loud was a huge boost to my confidence. "That makes me very happy," I said - genuinely pleased. I propped myself up on one elbow and looked down at her. Tenderness overwhelmed me once more. "I hope that it always stays that way." I looked at her earnestly and lovingly. She just looked back up at me and said nothing.

  I moved my hand slowly back in the direction of her breasts. I held her gaze tightly. "You are so beautiful," I said. "I still can't quite believe it. Every time I see you, it feels like a gift."

  With this kind of compliment, ones that only dealt with her appearance, she was fine. She smiled, relaxed. "But I didn't choose that," she said simply.

  I touched her breast and began to caress it. Her nipple hardened immediately, stretching the skin. I wanted her dreadfully, but I would still need to take my time. I smiled at her, leaned down, and kissed her gently, without expectation. I played my tongue across her lips, then traced it slowly down to her breasts. I took a nipple between my lips and teased it. Her nipples weren't as sensitive as mine, but after a short time she began to react with restless motion and light moaning. I laid my body onto hers and kissed her again, this time with increasing desire. She returned my kisses in kind.

  My hand glided down between her thighs and spread them. She gasped when I brushed across the center. I couldn't wait m
uch longer. I slid down over her body and opened her legs completely. She tossed back and forth across the bed impatiently. I found her entrance with my tongue. Her hips rose to meet me. I pushed inside. She cried out. "Darling!" That word was one she saved for moments of extreme passion - otherwise, I never heard it from her.

  I circled my tongue around inside her. She moaned louder and louder and threw herself about wildly. I sought her clit with my tongue. I stroked it. Simultaneously, I reached inside her with one finger. She pushed her hips into me with such force, I didn't think I could hold her. Suddenly, she stopped at the highest point in her thrusting and shuddered. I kept caressing her with my tongue until she collapsed. She was breathing heavily.

  I made my way slowly back up her body, caressing her once more all over. She pressed herself eagerly against my hand and sighed with contentment.

  When I'd made it back up to her level, I looked back over her whole body with an unbelievable feeling of tenderness.

  "I love you," I said.

  She looked at me, relaxed and satisfied. Her eyes spoke, but she didn't say it.

  "I know," she said instead.

  I asked myself whether I'd ever hear her say it.

  Chapter 11

  She woke me with a kiss. "I'm going now," she said softly.

  Everything in me pulled itself together. I wasn't quite fully awake yet, but the day was already gone. I didn't want her to go, but I knew it had to be this way. I, too, would soon go back to work as usual. The dream was over for the time being.

  She had a coffee cup in her hand. "One more cup of coffee in bed," she said. "To wake up." Was something flashing in her eyes? Had she noticed it herself? No, she was looking at me quite innocently.

  I couldn't comprehend how she could be so awake this early in the morning. I had, after all, slept as much - or as little - as she. But I felt like I'd been put through a wringer, and she looked like she'd just spent a refreshing weekend at the spa.