The Paris Game

by Alyssa Linn Palmer

  “Maybe when you start Huis Clos it’ll take your mind off missing her,” Sera suggested.

  “If I’m lucky. Maybe I should leave Paris and go to the provinces for a change of scene.”

  “But what would I do without you?”

  “You’d have to sing to yourself.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same,” Sera said. She glanced at her watch. “I should head back, rest a bit before I go to the club. It’s always hectic on Saturdays.”

  “Of course. I need to go see Jerome. I told him I’d try to put in a good word with the theatre for him.”

  Sera glanced up the street as she waited for Colette to adjust her burgundy scarf around her neck. A tall man strode down the street away from them. Her breath caught in her throat. He seemed disturbingly familiar, with short, light colored hair. He was wearing jeans and a blazer, and she thought then that it couldn’t be Jeremy Gordon. He always wore a suit.

  “Ready?” Colette asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  Before the club had opened for the evening, Sera slipped into the gloomy back corridor, the envelope of cash clutched tightly in her hand. She’d met Royale’s demand this week. A light glowed under the door and banished all chance of her pushing the envelope under his door and pretending he hadn’t been there. She hesitated, and then knocked. Better to get it over with.

  “Entrez!”

  She took a deep breath and went in. It was early yet and the air in Royale’s office was as clear as she’d ever seen it. He was ensconced as usual behind his desk, and already indulging in a snifter of brandy. An unlit cigarette hung off his lip and he had reached into a pocket for his lighter.

  “Ah, Mademoiselle Durand.” He smiled at her genially and lit his cigarette. She stepped into his office, trying to hide her anxiousness. “Is it that time already?” He held out his hand and she gave him the envelope. He counted the bills carefully, dropping cigarette ash onto his desk. “Well done, mademoiselle. I must confess that I was hoping you would renege, but no matter.” He coughed. “I expect the same again next week, understand?”

  “Oui, monsieur.” Sera hovered near the door, unwilling to get any closer, yet unsure if she could leave.

  “You may go,” Royale said imperiously. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed with relief. She breathed easier once she was back out beside the bar, away from Royale. Edouard smiled at her as he and Alain prepared for the evening ahead.

  “Sera! I didn’t see you come in.”

  “I snuck by while you weren’t looking,” she teased. “I think your mind was on something else.”

  “Maybe.” Edouard grinned and she saw Alain shake his head in amusement as he sliced lemons.

  “Did you enjoy your afternoon?”

  “We didn’t end up going to any museums,” Edouard admitted. “It was such a nice day that we went walking at the Tuileries instead.”

  “Very romantic,” Sera said approvingly.

  “That’s what I thought when I suggested it,” Edouard admitted. “I just wish I hadn’t had to work tonight.”

  “But you’ll see her after?”

  “We’ll go see a film, or have a late dinner,” he confirmed. “You were right, Sera, she is much better than Paula.”

  “Of course I’m right.” She laughed and stepped away from the bar. She went off to the dressing room, grinning. Marc’s chances were getting slimmer every time Sophie spent time with Edouard.

  The club was busy, but the crowd’s enthusiasm made the evening fly by. Sera paused at the bar on her way out of the club and then remembered that Edouard had already left. She thought about ordering her usual Coca-Cola, but the attraction of getting home a tiny bit earlier was strong.

  “Can I get you anything?” Alain inquired as he poured two glasses of sherry for one of the waitresses.

  “No, thank you, Alain. I’m just on my way. It’s been a long night.” She turned to go.

  “You won’t even stay for one drink?” said a familiar voice. She glanced over.

  Jeremy Gordon sat at a table tucked back into the corner, relaxed on the velvet banquette, his foot resting casually on the rung of a chair. He was wearing jeans, she realized with a start, and a dark blazer hung over the back of the chair. His white shirt was snug across his chest, emphasizing his broad shoulders. It only confirmed that she had seen him earlier in the day. Was he following her? It seemed strange.

  “I hadn’t planned on one,” she replied, though she stepped over to stand at his table. She wondered if she should ask him about where he’d been earlier, or if he’d take that as a sign of interest on her part.

  “Bonsoir, Sera.” She let him take her hand and he pressed it to his lips until she pulled away. “You were superb tonight,” he told her. “Enchanting.”

  “Thank you. We don’t often do much old American jazz.”

  “You should do more,” he replied. “The customers loved it. May I get you a drink?”

  “Champagne would be nice. Or a glass of wine.”

  Jeremy grinned. “Champagne it is.” He stood and walked up to the bar, and spoke to Jean while he waited for the champagne. The maître’d appeared to be his usual charming self, yet he deferred to Jeremy—his body language more placating than even it was with Marc. Jeremy nodded and smiled, returning to the table. He sat across from her, allowing her the comfort of the worn velvet.

  “Jean will bring out the champagne. I asked him to make it a good bottle.”

  “A glass would have suited me just fine.”

  “I didn’t want to skimp on the best part of my stay in Paris.” He smiled at her and she was charmed by his flattery. He wasn’t Marc, but he could be good company after all.

  “What about the rest of your trip? Has it not gone well?” If the best part of his time was spent in a dingy little jazz bar then the rest of his stay must have been dreadful. She said as much and he chuckled.

  “Maybe so, but this place has character. As for the rest of my trip...I don’t have enough autonomy,” he told her. “I’m tired of always doing what other people want.” Jean interrupted his next words to bring the champagne in a chilled bucket and a pair of flutes.

  “As you ordered, Monsieur Gordon.” Jean opened the bottle and poured out the first glasses. “Enjoy.”

  Jeremy lifted his glass. “To us,” he pronounced. Sera let him touch his glass to hers, but she didn’t echo his toast. The belt marks on her back gave a twinge. She sipped her champagne. Silence fell over the table and Sera shifted, feeling the awkwardness.

  “You haven’t told me much about yourself.” Jeremy broke the quiet and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Where are you from? Paris?”

  She shook her head. “No, from the south. But I’ve been here a long time.”

  “And how’d you end up here?” He glanced around the club. “Why aren’t you singing where Piaf did? The Olympia?”

  “I’m not good enough for the Olympia.” She wouldn’t even presume such a thing.

  “So you ended up singing here?”

  “It wasn’t my first job prospect. I was an au pair when I first came to Paris, but that didn’t last long. I had to find something to pay the bills.”

  “So, singing?”

  “Not quite. I was waitressing mostly.” Marc had offered to help her out but she hadn’t wanted to impose, especially when his parents had so disapproved of her. “I fell into the singing by accident. Maybe next time I won’t sing while working.” Not entirely true, but he didn’t need to know the whole story. Marc had offered her a wager, as he often did, daring her to sing at the club during a quiet moment. She had refused, until he’d suggested that she could do whatever she wanted with him for the rest of the night. She smiled to herself. That night had been one to remember.

  “This place wouldn’t be the same without you,” Jeremy told her.

  “Thank you.” She took another sip of her champagne and relaxed, basking in the warmth of his flattery.

  When Je
remy shifted to sit next to her on the banquette, Sera leaned into his side, cozy under his outstretched arm. He stroked her shoulder, his finger tracing the line of her collarbone. The house lights flickered to life and she blinked against the sudden brightness.

  “The evening can’t end yet. Should we continue this elsewhere?” Jeremy’s warm breath tickled her ear and he laid light kisses down the line of her neck. “There’s a bottle of wine waiting for us in my room.”

  “Not for too long tonight; I’m tired.” She stood.

  “It’s still early.” He tossed back the rest of his bourbon and pulled his wallet from his pocket, laying out enough for their tab and a generous tip. Suddenly she wished she’d asked for more than €600 a week, if he could be that generous with Jean.

  He rose and helped her wrap her shawl over her shoulders. Sera waved to Alain as they left and he gave her a small nod of acknowledgment before Jeremy drew her out into the dimly lit street. He took her by a different route, longer than before. His fingers caressed her under her shawl, sliding over her ribs and up under her breast, skimming over the thin fabric of her top, but retreated, only to return.

  By the time they arrived at the hotel, her tiredness had faded, becoming arousal. Once they reached his room, she wanted him to do more than tease her. She turned to him after he’d closed the door and he tugged off her purse and shawl in one quick movement, as eager as she was. He pulled her to him and bent to kiss her, pressing her against the door. His mouth demanded, controlled, ravishing her. He didn’t pull away until she had grasped his shirt, feeling short of breath. Her lips were swollen, almost bruised.

  He caught the hem of her shirt and tugged upward as she lifted her arms. The shirt slid off and Jeremy tossed it to the floor without looking. His mouth descended upon her bared skin with a fierce hunger. He shifted his leg so she was straddling it, and Sera let herself rock her hips against his thigh. He chuckled into the curve of her neck.

  “You are delectable, my dear.” He kissed her again and lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She pressed into him as his hands cupped her bottom, her skirt crumpled around the tops of her thighs. She could feel the roughness of the denim under her. The cool metal of his belt buckle brushed over her skin. If she closed her eyes it could almost be Marc there with her, but when she did, she remembered last night in the club, the way he’d looked at her. Her eyes snapped open. She didn’t want to think about him any more, not tonight.

  She unbuttoned Jeremy’s shirt and slid her hands in under his collar. His skin was warm and she cupped the back of his neck, bringing him closer. She pressed against him and his warmth sank into her. She wanted to be skin to skin, curled together, but first she wanted more than just kisses.

  “Bed,” she whispered in Jeremy’s ear. He stepped back from the door, but rather than letting her go, he carried her into the bedroom.

  He laid her down on the bed with a surprising gentleness, undoing the buttons on her skirt and sliding it down her legs. He took a moment to remove his shirt and when he joined her on the bed she rolled onto her side, caressing his chest and down to his belt, unbuckling it and unzipping the fly of his jeans. She heard his indrawn breath when she slid her hand inside his briefs, teasing him with tiny, gentle strokes.

  He ran his hand down her spine and she tensed for a slap that never came. Instead his fingers moved between her legs and stroked her, sliding into her wetness. He chuckled against her neck as she gave a little moan, pushing in another finger. When he curled his fingers inside her, her hand fell from his cock and came up to grasp his shoulder as she moved closer.

  “More,” she murmured in his ear.

  “Tell me what you want,” he replied. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “I want more than just your fingers.”

  He withdrew and tugged off her satiny black underwear, dropping it over the side of the bed. He easily unhooked her bra and it joined the growing pile of her clothes on the floor. She lay back on the bed, tracing her fingers over his ribs. The faint hair that trailed down his abdomen was pale, and she smoothed her hand over it before she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and started to tug down his jeans. He stood and shed his jeans, then knelt on the bed between her legs, holding her knees open with strong hands.

  He moved forward and she inched backward, holding out a hand. His eyes darkened.

  “Don’t forget,” she reminded him. His expression softened and he leaned over and took a condom from the drawer next to the bed.

  “Better?” He smiled at her.

  “Yes.” She grasped his hand and jerked him forward. He pushed into her and was far too gentle for Sera’s taste. “You won’t hurt me if you go deeper,” she told him, locking her ankles around his waist and rocking her hips to emphasize her point.

  “It’s not too much?”

  “Not yet.”

  He unhooked her ankles from around his waist and set them on his shoulders, opening her to a thrust that took her breath away. She fisted her hands in the sheets and closed her eyes. He was steady with his movements and if she tried to block out his small, satisfied grunts, she could almost imagine that it was Marc above her, demanding her submission.

  When her legs began to tingle, Sera slid them down Jeremy’s arms, lessening the depth of his thrusts. He shifted her until they were spooning on the bed, propping himself up on an elbow, hardly ceasing his movements. His fingers grasped at her hip and she arched back against him with a little moan. The last time Marc had taken her like this, he’d put a hand between her legs and caressed her until she’d come with a sudden cry.

  “Touch yourself for me,” he muttered in her ear. She took his hand from her hip and used both their fingers to press her clit. She let her hand drop away once he seemed to have a good pressure, but even with the ease of focusing only on her own pleasure, she still couldn’t come.

  Jeremy pulled out of her and lifted her to her hands and knees. “I love seeing you like this,” he told her as he parted her folds and bent down to taste her. She shivered as his tongue caressed her, but it wasn’t enough on its own. She bit back a sigh. When he paused, she turned her head, giving him an inviting look.

  “Fuck me,” she demanded, and he chuckled.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “I’m not done with your pussy, my dear.” His tongue slid into her.

  Sera let him indulge himself for a minute or two. “Please, Jeremy?”

  “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

  She could feel the head of his cock pressing against her wetness and he grasped her hips. “Now, Jeremy, please.”

  He thrust into her so deeply it hurt, but she didn’t care. She could feel the tension and she knew she was close.

  “God, you’re tight.” He paused deep inside her and she made a noise that was nearly a whimper. Jeremy teased her clit with his thumb as he thrust into her again, but it was impossible. He moved in an erratic rhythm and the orgasm stayed just out of reach. She took a deep breath and let out a low moan, encouraging him to finish as she pillowed her head on her crossed arms. She felt him shudder and he increased his thrusts until he draped himself over her, his breath on her back in hot gasps. He rested his forehead between her shoulder blades and she could feel the dampness of his perspiration.

  He pulled out of her and rose from the bed, stepping into the en-suite bathroom. She lowered herself to the bed, her thigh muscles stiff from holding the half-kneeling position against his overeager thrusting. She pulled the sheet up over her breasts, curling up on her side. Jeremy emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, his hair damp.

  “Tired already?” he asked.

  “Just a bit sore.”

  “You don’t want more?” He sat on the edge of the bed and his hand moved under the sheet, between her legs. She winced as he caressed her, her flesh oversensitive. He removed his hand and pulled the sheet back, tucking himself in behind her. She closed her eyes as he stroked her hair, trying to will herself to sleep. It was impo
ssible.

  Sera lay next to Jeremy, dissatisfied even though he had been unexpectedly indulgent. He pulled her back against him, but she knew there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. She slid out from his embrace and off the bed, bending to pick up her bra and underwear from the floor.

  “Where are you going?”

  She glanced around for her skirt, spotting it crumpled near the night stand. She picked it up and shook it out.

  “Home,” she replied as she stepped into her skirt. Her shirt would have to wait; it was still by the door. She heard the bed creak, and turned as Jeremy came up behind her.

  “You can’t leave.”

  “Why not? You got what you paid for.” She moved away, wanting her shirt and her belongings.

  “After what we’ve had and all I’ve done for you? What thanks is that?” He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging painfully into her. She flinched and tried to pull away but he held fast to her arm.

  “I can’t sleep, Jeremy,” she began, but the dark look he gave her made her next words catch in her throat.

  “You’ll leave when I say you can.” His intense blue eyes were cold. He heaved her towards the bed and she stumbled, catching herself against the footboard.

  Sera didn’t have time to do anything more than steady herself before he came up behind her and forced her to the bed. He held her down with one hand and pushed up her skirt with the other.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped out, struggling against his weight. “Truly, I am.”

  His disdain was obvious. “You’re just like all the others. Accommodating until you have what you want, and then you up and leave. If that’s how you’re going to be, I want what I’m owed.”

  He lifted his hand to get a better grip on her thighs and she squirmed away, sliding off the far edge of the bed and scrambling to her feet. He blocked her way.

  “Please, Jeremy.” She knew it was hopeless to try to reason with him, but there was nothing else to do. This wasn’t like the man she’d first met, the charming flirt she’d thought he was, the one who would let her take the lead.