A Paris Affair

by Adelaide Cole

  At one point in the evening she had spied Philippe in a conversation with him, and when they were on their way home she learned her husband had exchanged phone numbers with Oscar, who apparently traveled widely for his job and sometimes found himself in Los Angeles. She had been nonchalant about it to Philippe, but was secretly thrilled. She was disappointed that they never heard from Oscar again, but had never quite forgotten him.

  Clearly, the momentary attraction had not faded, because she was as excited as a schoolgirl to have him on the phone.

  “Well, Philippe is taking the children to the north coast to his parents’ for a few days, and I’ll be on my own. We could get together for a coffee tomorrow. How’s that?”

  “Lovely. You’re there in the sixteenth arrondissement, at the address your sister gave?”

  “Yes, yes. And we have a good café at the corner, called Café Liberté. It has a blue awning—you’ll see it. It’s across from a little grocery with flowers in front.”

  “No problem. Is four o’clock fine for you?”

  “Perfect. Tomorrow at four. See you then.”

  “I look forward to it! I’m so glad I’ll have some company for a bit! Paris is a little harsh when you’re alone.”

  “Oh, your wife didn’t come with you?” she ventured. What the hell am I thinking? she wondered.

  “No, no, I came for work in Madrid. She has work in New York.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Valérie lied. “Well, anyway…till tomorrow then. Bye-bye.”

  “Tomorrow!”

  They hung up simultaneously.

  Valérie stood in the room with the phone in her hand. Then she sat on the bed, in the middle of the piles of clothes and toiletries and open suitcases. She dropped the cell back into her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. Philippe disapproved of her smoking, but wasn’t too angry if she did it only occasionally, and when she was alone.

  She got back up, went to the window and opened it, then lit up and took a deep drag. She looked mindlessly at the traffic below and the neighbors around her, and recalled her single meeting with Oscar. She remembered the color of his eyes and now, with the phone call, the calm of his smooth, sexy voice. She swallowed and took another drag of her cigarette, feeling something deep in her body that she hadn’t felt in years. It was pure, sexual wanting. It was dormant sensation reawakened by the voice of this man she’d met for just a few hours years ago. She felt a flicker in her sex, as if it was being shaken awake, too.

  She had never been unfaithful in her marriage, and had never shared more than an innocent flirtation with another man. But…then what, exactly? she asked herself. Things at home were so stressed, and sex was lukewarm at best. She didn’t even wait for arousal anymore with her husband. She just wanted it to be done so that she could sleep. What a state!

  Her discontent allowed a space to open within her. It did not open in her heart, but in her body, and she felt it through her nerve endings. She felt that a ray of daylight was piercing the dismal gray cloud of her life, and offering her something beyond her marriage. How could the timing be so perfect? she asked herself, careful to avoid the word affair. She didn’t wish for any real distance from Philippe and her children; but while they were having their little holiday, might she have a “holiday” of her own…?

  She was dying to know if Oscar was interested in her, and if he ever strayed outside his marriage; what man wouldn’t, she wondered, if the opportunity presented itself? She felt the stirring storm of sexual anticipation that she had in New York. It had been so long since a man had moved her sexually. Physically, she lived in a dry desert of neutered sex, and had actually forgotten the earthquake of desire. Here it was, rumbling inside her.

  She recalled the sizzling undercurrent she’d felt with Oscar, and her nerves jumped. Did he really just want a cup of coffee, or something more…? She would have to wait and see. And if something more meant something that could harm her marriage, the stability of the life she and Philippe had made together, or their children…these were issues too monumental for her to allow herself to consider.

  Valérie wasn’t a schemer or a planner, and wasn’t deceptive by nature; but her circumstances and her own emotional weakness left her open to seizing a moment and hoping it would all turn out for the best. She felt such a great longing for respite from a difficult period in their lives. And unless she was very wrong, Oscar’s sudden appearance felt ready-made: prêt-à-porter!

  Looking out the window, she recalled Oscar and her sense of him. At the dinner she had imagined what he looked like under his sharp business suit—from the way his clothes fell she’d thought she could make out a taut, slim muscular build. She’d felt his raw sexuality. She remembered his green eyes gazing into hers like a cheeky dare…and she breathed hard. She put her cigarette out on the window ledge, closed the window, and turned back to packing for her family’s trip.

  The next day all the preparations were in place. The taxi was ordered, bags were packed, and the grandparents were expecting them at the train station. They were leaving around lunchtime, so Valérie had prepared food for the trip.

  “All ready to go?” Philippe asked the children. He looked at his wife. “This will be a good change of pace for everyone, don’t you think?”

  Valérie smiled warmly at him and hugged him around his waist. He reciprocated with his arm around her shoulder. They stood together, looking at the children, who were stuffing last-second treasures into their bags. The apartment buzzer rang, signaling the taxi. “Let’s go! Taxi’s here!” Philippe said.

  Ding-dang-dong… The three-tone notices hummed continuously over the loudspeaker, announcing trains coming and going. Gare de l’Est was a loom in motion. Families, singles, couples, old people, children, backpackers—they walked and ran in every direction, their paths crisscrossing in a colorful weave.

  “We’ll miss you, my love,” Philippe said. “Mathieu, you know Maman is staying home. She’s not coming with us. It’s just us three visiting Mamie and Papie.”

  Mathieu looked at his parents, then turned back to watch the crowd. He clung to his mother. “He’s gonna throw a total fit the second we get on the train and he sees you’re not coming,” Manon said, matter-of-factly.

  “Try and relax,” Philippe directed, “and don’t smoke too much. Remember to eat properly. I’ll call you as soon as we’re there.”

  “If I’m out, don’t worry. I might go to a film or sit in a café. Just things to clear my head. Maybe I’ll do some shopping for the kids. Make sure you all enjoy yourselves.”

  Ding-dang-dong…boarding train 631 in five minutes to Lorient on track 15…

  Café Liberté

  Back in the apartment in front of her bedroom mirror, Valérie thought that the pale green top gave her a flirty décolletage, but that maybe the black skirt wasn’t so flattering. On the other hand, she thought as she tried on things from her closet, the pale pink linen dress showed off her waist and had décolleté as well. She chose the pink dress and stepped into it.

  She was in good shape for her age, despite having had a couple of kids. Her breasts hadn’t bounced back to their former glory, but were still nicely shaped. Her olive skin tone was still pretty, and she had a slim waist and nice legs. She was a petite height, and had to watch what she ate to stay slim, now that she was nearly forty-three. She still cared about her figure, but had never anticipated being naked with another man. It had simply never occurred to her. She looked at her body and thought that her hair was still her best feature. She had wild, glossy black curls that fell below her shoulders.

  Oh, maybe it’s just a coffee, after all, she thought, hoping that it wasn’t…but afraid that it was…! Conflicting notions pulled her one way and then another. On one hand she felt as if she had the right to a moment of pure joy with someone; yet on the other hand she knew she would be breaking a commitment she’d made to her husband. And then again, Oscar might be simply meeting an acquaintance for a coffee….

  A pol
ice siren passing on a street snapped her out of her confused reverie. “Oh!” she said out loud to herself. She stood up straight and looked in the mirror. She glanced at the clock by the bed. She was meeting Oscar in just fifteen minutes. She fluffed out some of her curls, placing a thick mass just over one eyebrow. She tucked another clump behind one ear to reveal a dangly silver earring. She put on a bit of mascara and then sat back to look at her reflection. Am I still pretty? she wondered. She looked at the lines that had begun to appear around her dark, almond eyes, and at the circles underneath. Just a coffee, she repeated, dabbing on a bit more perfume and checking her lipstick in the mirror.

  The café was half-filled. The right number of people: it was neither uncomfortably intimate, nor too busy and bustling. Oscar already had a table.

  “Oscar!” She made her way through the tables. He stood.

  “Valérie, my dear!” They brushed cheeks in a French greeting.

  “Lovely to see you, my dear,” Oscar said.

  “Wonderful to see you again,” Valérie said in return, instantly hoping that she wasn’t giving herself away.

  Oscar was exactly as she had remembered him. In a split second she sensed the same magnetic pull between them. He wore another smart business suit and looked as dashing as she’d recalled. Her stomach leaped, but she tried to act casual.

  “Have you seen Nathalie recently?” she asked, starting the conversation with a subject they shared.

  “Yes, few months ago,” he answered, “and I called her for your new phone number. Are you close with your sister?”

  “No, not so much,” Valérie admitted. “We’ve been in different places for so many years now.”

  The conversation was casual, but the air between them was not. His eyes locked on hers. While they mouthed pleasantries, she gazed back into the green eyes she recalled from the first time they had met. She felt drawn to him.

  “And is your family well?”

  “Everyone is fine. Our kids are happy at their schools, and I hope they’re working hard. How is Philippe’s new post? You must all be happy to be back in France.”

  “Yes, of course,” Valérie said. “It’s always easier in your own language. And the new posting is working well. It was a good move.” She lied, feeling that the truth of her life was too heavy a burden for this lighthearted meeting.

  “Well then, everything fine for all of us!” Oscar said brightly. He caught the eye of the passing waiter and turned to Valérie. “Listen, how about a nice glass of wine instead of coffee? I know it’s a bit early, but it’s so nice to be here. I’d like to take advantage of my few days in Paris….”

  “Yes, yes, why not?” Valérie answered. “A glass would be nice.” She knew that a glass of wine would loosen her up, but she felt as if every step forward led toward a precipice. The feeling both excited and scared her.

  Oscar scanned the café blackboard menu and ordered wine for them both. His French was smooth and fluent. The waiter left.

  “Your French is excellent, you know?” Valérie said, complimenting him.

  “It’s easy to learn with a good teacher like Nathalie! But I didn’t have a choice—I had to learn for work. And you, are you working at all?”

  “Me? Oh no, I’m too busy with the children. When they’re older I’ll go back, but they’re still small, you know.”

  The wine arrived and Oscar toasted to reacquaintances. “Santé!” they said together, touching glasses lightly. They both smiled, and their eyes met again. He gave a sly smile, and she felt a rush of warmth throughout her body. She had a fleeting image of the slim hips and tight muscles under that suit. She wanted to run her hand over a curving biceps, and suddenly thought, I know how people do this. She had an image of a grassy plain and a cliff’s edge, and felt that a marriage was on that plain. At the cliff’s edge was Oscar, and leaping off it together wourld be a daring, heart-pounding adventure. Looking into his eyes made her move closer to the cliff’s edge.

  “So,” Valérie said, trying to be a bit flirtatious. It was a long time since she’d flirted with anyone, and she felt as if she was treading uneasily on unfamiliar, uneven ground. “How do you have time away from your work here to drink in the afternoon?”

  “Oh, I don’t have anything to do in Paris,” Oscar answered, draining his glass. He stretched out his legs, crossed his arms and looked at her with a half smile. “I was working in Madrid and asked the company travel agent to arrange a layover. Just to relax, really. My wife is busy with work. And why didn’t you go with Philippe and your children?”

  Valérie rested her forearms on the table and leaned her chest toward Oscar provocatively. “Oh, Philippe had a chance to take the children to his parents’, and we both agreed that it would be nice if I had the week to myself at home. I don’t really get along with my in-laws, anyway.” She cocked her head and answered his gaze with her eyes.

  “Mmm.” He nodded. “And me, I didn’t want to waste all those French lessons on work! The Americans say ‘All work makes Jack a dull boy.’” He laughed. Valérie laughed, too, and their smiles and their fast-disappearing wine both lightened and intensified the air between them. She felt as if a weight was lifting, and as if the cliff edge was fast approaching.

  Oscar read her thoughts. “Listen, Valérie,” he said, and when he leaned over the table he took her hand. He did it so swiftly and smoothly, without skipping a beat or breaking eye contact, that it took her breath away. Valérie felt her heart start to pound. What daring! she thought, truly shocked. He knows I’m married!

  “Instead of another glass here, why don’t you be my Paris guide and we’ll have a walk along the Seine? I was going to ask you and Philippe for supper, but he’s away. Maybe you’ll join me for dinner tonight. Yes? No fun to eat alone, you know.”

  Before she could answer or remove her hand, which buzzed from his electric touch, he released it and signaled to the waiter for the check. He’s so cheeky, she thought, attracted now not only to piercing green eyes, slim hips and strong hands, but by his daring. He must want me, too, she thought, feeling more confident than ever.

  “I can’t think of a reason to say no….” Valérie said, cocking her head slightly and holding his gaze for a few seconds. She twirled a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled at him.

  “Well, there you go, then. It’s decided,” answered Oscar.

  As they left the café and walked into the sunshine he subtly took her arm. In return, she moved closer to his body, feeling his strong, slim thigh beside her hip. She felt him beside her as they walked, and her nerves tingled. When was the last time the sun shone? she wondered.

  Dinner Out

  Near evening, Oscar took Valérie to a restaurant he said he’d always wanted to try when in Paris, but hadn’t had the chance. He said it was written up in the American food magazines, and its chef-owner won accolades for his North African-French fusion dishes. They drank a deep, bold Bourgogne, and toasted to “a little holiday together,” as Oscar called it.

  They tasted each other’s adventurous plates, and at the end traded bold desserts where sweet and spicy flavors danced together. Fresh figs were gently enrobed in French pâte feuilletée and flavored with orange-water and cardamom. Spanish peaches were embedded in couscous spiced with vanilla and cinnamon.

  “May I?” asked Oscar quietly.

  Valérie put down her fork and looked at him inquisitively. She didn’t know what he wanted. With his thumb and forefinger he picked up a warm, supple, deep amber fig, dripping with its honey-and-orange glaze, and lifted it to her mouth. She smiled and parted her lips. When he carefully slipped the slim brown tip inside, she closed her mouth around it and bit softly through it, its tiny seeds relenting to her teeth. Her cunt jumped with pleasure.

  Oscar smiled with one corner of his mouth. He held the dripping fruit to his own lips, licked the part where her mouth had touched, and bit it off. Juice ran down his finger. They didn’t speak. The intensity of their exchange blurred everything around them
.

  Valérie wanted him. The wine was erasing the edginess in her nerves, and she felt less confined to the imposed rules of marriage. She felt that the universe would let her love her husband and make love to Oscar. She had to feel his body around hers, she thought. But she just couldn’t bring herself to tell him, to say it out loud. Would he say something? She fingered her long, silver chain and leaned toward him over the crisp linen tablecloth. She felt the wine in her body, felt her face flush and her vulva pulse.

  Oscar’s eyes met hers, and he finally said, quietly, “You’re a beautiful woman, Valérie. You must know I think so. Is this a moment for us to share? If it isn’t, maybe we should stop right here.” He stroked her hand with the tips of his fingers and held her gaze. But before she could tell him how she felt, he said, “Don’t answer now. I’ve had a wonderful time with you, but I’m going to put you in a taxi.”

  Valérie’s eyes widened.

  “Let’s think about what we’re doing,” he added. “If we go any further, I’d like to feel that you’re sure. We’ve got lots to protect, both of us. Listen, I’m going to sneak in a business call to New York before bed. It’s still early there,” he said.

  She didn’t know how to reply. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to feel his skin, to touch him, but she felt conflicted between desire and giving too much away.

  “You’re sure I can’t offer you a cognac…?” she said, hoping it was the right thing to say in a situation where the lines between them were blurred. Now they were neither friends nor lovers.

  He held her hand as they left the restaurant. The valet hailed a taxi, and before Valérie knew it, Oscar was holding the door open.

  “I’ve had a wonderful afternoon with you, my dear,” he said softly. “What a nice surprise. Thank you for sharing your day. And what are you doing tomorrow?”