by Avril Rose
“Your dad is a lawyer, too?”
“Yes. I’m now a partner in his firm.”
“So we’re both head honchos, then!”
“That’s right!”
We continue talking, switching between topics at random, guided by our desire to learn more about this or that part of the other’s life. I don’t even notice that we're becoming more and more comfortable with one another.
My demons seem to be off sick for the evening, giving me the freedom to fully enjoy this enchanting moment with her.
“What happened between us... has that ever happened to you before?” I ask without preamble.
“What do you mean?”
“Having sex like that, in your café?”
“No.”
My lips part in a relieved smile. I want to be the only one.
“Did you like it?”
I know I shouldn’t ask her this question. She might get the wrong idea if I go down this road. Since I know this will not go any further after tonight, I promised myself. But I can’t resist, I’m dying to know what she felt.
“Yes. With you, it was... different. I’ve never experienced that... intensity before. You know?”
Oh yes, I know.
“I think I do,” I nod.
I know it’s stupid, but I’m happy to hear her say that about us. I know what she means. I’m used to one-night stands and I’ve never felt that kind of passion or desire before.
Zoe smiles when she hears my response, and places her napkin on her lap when the head waiter brings out our order.
The scent coming off the plates is incredibly enticing. Zoe is awed by the beauty of the presentation and the delicate aroma. I’m awed by her beauty.
“It looks delicious,” she says with hungry eyes.
I can't help but smile as I watch her taste the fish. Realizing that we’ve both gone quiet, she lifts her head to look at me. I’m watching her. Our exchange is replete with a powerful desire that we can barely contain. Embarrassed, she has to look away. I was about to look away too, overwhelmed by the thoughts running through my mind. I love being with her. And that is not a comforting thought. How am I going to forget about her?
“Where do you usually like to go out?” I ask to change the subject.
“Mostly laid-back bars. There’s one place that I really love: the Basic Pop. You know it?”
"No, not at all. What do you like about it?”
“The recycled furniture, flamboyant wallpaper, big comfy chairs, and jazz bands that come play when they’re just starting out. It’s cheap and the atmosphere is chill. All my favorite things. And you?”
“I go to the Baron fairly regularly; it’s a trendy, select club.”
“Ouch!” she laughs, making a face.
Her laugh is contagious. I realize that if I didn’t go to her coffee shop, we would have never met.
“You should try it, it’s a really nice bar. When you want to go, tell them I sent you. You have to know someone to get in.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t like about those places, the fact that you have to be part of some sort of elite to get in. Why should anyone judge a person based on who they know? What makes sitting on a stool in that bar such a privilege?” she insists.
I love her simplicity and her audacity. Other girls would have pounced on the opportunity to get into the Baron. Not her – she wants to start a rebellion!
“I must say, your analysis is on point. Personally, your description made me want to check out your chill place.”
She pulls down her elbow, fist closed, in a gesture of victory, accompanied by a loud “yes!” And she has me laughing, yet again. I feel so lighthearted with her. And I forget everything. Including the things I had strictly decided were off limits: having fun, enjoying her company, wanting her.
I notice she’s hesitating about something now.
“What is it?” I ask, worried.
“Could... could I taste your lobster?”
Her ease is so refreshing. How could I refuse such a request?
“You have quite a gargantuan appetite for a dwarf!”
“A dwarf?!” she cries, pretending to be offended.
“Excuse me: a person of small stature,” I correct myself, amused.
“I’ll let you taste the fish,” she offers, trying to convince me.
“No, that’s okay, I’ve had it a dozen times or so...”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never eaten blue lobster,” she insists.
So I happily grant her request. I lean in slowly, my fork in hand. I watch her open her mouth, ready to taste the heavenly crustacean. She closes her lips around the heaped fork. The flavors seem to explode when they meet her palate. She closes her eyes to fully savor the culinary delight.
For an instant, I feel like we are the only two people in the enormous dining room. I wish it were the case.
If Hugo could see me know, he’d have a stroke!
Caught red-handed enjoying a romantic dinner. With her, the polar opposite of my usual conquests.
And that’s just it. That’s the difference. Zoe is not a conquest.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course,” she says.
I go over to Bruno to ask a favor, and I pay for the drinks and the meal. I come back about ten minutes later.
“Shall we?”
“Wh... what?” Zoe asks, a bit lost.
“I asked for the desserts to go,” I explain, showing her the bag I’m holding in one hand. “How about we go to my place?”
Yes, I, Liam Desages, did just utter those words: “How about we go to my place?” It's the first time I've ever said them.
I want to show her my apartment, share my world with her.
This woman has blasted to bits any certainties I ever had since the moment I met her.
Yes, her, this little woman in her jeans and Stan Smith sneakers.
She gets to her feet and anchors her hand into mine. This gesture, completely normal for most mortals, is far from it for me. It’s so extraordinary, it sends a shiver down my entire body. I can't manage to pull myself together, and I drop her hand to pull her against me, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She wraps hers around my waist. And her hand caresses my hip. The shivering is even worse now. If I let myself, I’d make love to her right here, right now. Instead, I defy my impulses so as to show nothing.
***
During the car ride, we regularly glance at each other, our eyes knowing, full of desire. She turns to me. I begin to caress her thigh. She stares at my hand, then leaning her head against the headrest, her eyelids closed, she places her hand over mine, brushing her fingertips across my skin.
The ride home seems to take forever. Torture.
“I’ve never brought a woman home with me,” I confess.
She gives me a half-surprised, half-convinced look.
“We’re not so different after all, then.”
I give her a questioning glance.
“I never invite guys back to my place, either.”
“You better invite me. I’ll take offense if you don’t!” I say in mock seriousness.
“I'll consider it,” she promises mischievously.
8
Zoe
My stress levels rise a bit more with every step we climb. The elevator is out of order. I take it as a sign: tonight, Liam and I are getting to know each other. We aren’t going to take any shortcuts during this amazing, romantic evening. One minute in an elevator together, and I know we’d both lose all resolve!
Our climb stops on the fourth floor. Whew! One more and I’d have busted a lung. I try to catch my breath calmly.
I’m anxious to see the place where he lives. A person’s home reflects their personality, and I’m afraid of what I might find in the home of this man who has such an effect on me. What if it’s all superfic
ial, cold and soulless?
“After you,” he says.
I walk in hesitantly, and I’m speechless. I was expecting an apartment with pure, minimalist design, all white and immaculate – straight out of a magazine. A carbon copy of the reception area at his firm. But instead, I’m in a normal, Parisian-sized apartment. It’s modest.
The Haussmann-style building is beautiful, with moldings, hardwood floors, and a fireplace in the living room surrounded by colorful, mismatched furniture. It looks very comfortable, and the feeling is welcoming.
A thick, soft rug dominates the living room. The kitchen is separated by an iron-framed glass wall that adds an industrial touch, in perfect harmony with the eclectic style of the apartment. I love the peacock blue walls, perfectly matched to the black furniture and the decorative touches of yellow in this small room.
A loft was installed to take advantage of the high ceilings, and there’s a wooden staircase leading up to it with a perforated, black aluminum railing. The sleeping area is up there, closed off by glass panels like the kitchen, and the walls are lined with books.
Liam busies himself plating our desserts. I take the time to walk around the apartment, looking at every object, examining photos, touching the different materials surrounding me.
Focused on my exploration, I didn't even notice Liam had walked up to me. I feel his eyes following my every move.
“Sorry!” I say, caught snooping. “Your place is beautiful. I didn’t expect it to be so warm and inviting.”
“Inviting? I'm not sure how I’m supposed to take that!” he says, laughing.
“Oh, no. No, no. Sorry! That’s not what I meant,” I apologize, starting to laugh at my awkwardness now too.
He smiles, handing me my dessert.
We sit on the floor, our plates on the coffee table as we taste the delicious final touch to our meal in silence. We both seem lost in thought.
“Thank you for the dessert. It’s the best cheesecake I’ve ever eaten!” I say, taking another bite.
Not great for my love handles, but really delicious!
“Since when does Le Cinq do takeout?” I ask with a knowing wink.
“Since I invited Miss Stan Smith there,” he jokes.
I grab the first throw pillow I can reach and chuck it at his face.
Eye for an eye.
He wasn’t expecting that move.
With a playful gleam in his eyes, he sits back up more quickly than I thought humanly possible and grabs my wrists, forcing me to lie on my back. I burst out laughing.
"You threw a pillow at me?”
“Yeeesss,” I laugh.
“Right in my face?”
“Yeeesss.”
I continue laughing, harder now. He joins in. It’s rare to see him act so carefree. I like it.
He straddles me, placing his legs on either side of my thighs, blocking me in this position.
“I bet you’re ticklish. A small, ticklish person.”
“Nope, not at all,” I lie, out of breath from laughing so hard.
He immediately verifies my statement. I twist and laugh even harder as he attacks.
“Stop, stop, enough,” I gasp. “I need to breathe!” I say in defense.
He grins widely. It makes me feel good to think he’s smiling because of me. I didn’t expect to discover a playful, laughing Liam.
He helps me sit up, still holding his position so I can’t escape.
What is he trying to do?
I don’t have to wait long to find out. He takes my dessert spoon and brings it to my lips. I open my mouth to continue eating, but he swerves the spoon at the last second to steal my bite.
“It’s the best cheesecake I’ve ever eaten” he jokes, imitating me with his mouth full.
Tooth for a tooth.
I laugh wholeheartedly, fighting as best I can, but it’s in vain. I shouldn’t waste my energy: my small frame has no chance of moving him, not even an inch.
When the spoon approaches again, I keep my lips sealed.
You won’t trick me again!
“Open your mouth, Zoe!” he warns.
I shake my head from left to right, smiling.
“Open your mouth,” he insists, still playing.
I defy him again.
“If you don't open your mouth, the cheesecake is going to end up on your face,” he persists, pretending to threaten me.
I raise my eyebrows, daring him.
He turns the spoon and uses it like a catapult.
The cake smashes onto my face. When I see Liam’s reaction, almost sorry he had such perfect aim, I crack up laughing again, and he follows suit.
“Oh shit, Zoe! I'm sorry. Why didn't you block me?” he asks, between two belts of laughter.
“With what?!” I ask, out of breath, unable to stop laughing.
“With your hands, obviously.”
I suddenly realize he’s right, my hands are no longer constrained.
I guess I should put them to good use!
I grab him by his shirt collar and pull him toward me.
Our lips meet and the greediness of them is unsettling. Butterflies race around my stomach. My body is coming to life, my heart racing.
It makes me wonder how we resisted kissing each other this long.
He runs his tongue over my lips, sending shivers throughout my body. His hands play with my hair. He pulls back from my face slightly and runs his index finger over my skin, tasting the remnants of the gourmet dessert, smiling openly. He takes a tissue from the box on the coffee table and gently wipes me clean.
I don't feel like laughing anymore.
He leans in again to kiss me. He parts his lips slightly, giving me free range. My tongue quickly meets with his. Our kiss transitions from tender and sweet to urgent and passionate in an instant.
I feel our lips swell with pleasure. The spicy scent of his cologne is already soaking into my skin. I put my hands on his lower back to pull him closer. I lift my pelvis slightly to feel more of him. The silence of this space is disturbed by our desire, the sound of our breathing becoming ragged.
His hand moves away from my hair to follow the curves of my body. He grabs my thigh and next thing I know, my leg is wrapped around his waist. I don’t think it’s possible to be any closer to someone. Only our clothing separates us.
I gyrate under him to heighten the friction between our hungry bodies. I pull at his thick hair as he nibbles on my neck. I'm already wet with desire.
“I lose all control with you, Zoe,” he whispers.
“Me too, Liam,” I murmur in agreement.
I’ve never felt this for anyone. I feel so good, so free, so much of a woman with him. I feel no embarrassment or shame. As if us together, it was how things were supposed to be.
After this double confession, Liam begins undressing me, kissing my burning skin as he removes each item of clothing. He pulls off my shirt and then my jeans. I moan as he brushes his fingers against the fabric of my wet panties, which he then removes as well. He delicately kisses my most intimate part. I massage his thick hair, encouraging him to stay right where he is. With one finger, he teases my clit, then his skilled tongue takes its place. My body is on fire, trembling. I squirm under his touch, trying to delay the orgasm that is already on its way. I moan freely, on the verge of tears under the intense pleasure he’s giving me. Suddenly, my body lets go; the orgasm shoots through every inch of my being, down my spine, exploding under his liberating tongue. A wave of heat spreads through my abdomen and I smile, drained, fulfilled.
He lets me catch my breath.
“You taste amazing.”
I bite my lip, aroused by these words. Words I’ve never heard before.
“Do you want more?” he whispers in my ear.
“Yes,” I confess in a far-off voice, my eyes closed.
I hear him rip open the foil
packet. I’ve barely gotten my bearings before Liam is again between my thighs, kissing me feverishly. His tongue still tastes of me. I like tasting myself through him. And the idea doesn’t even make me blush.
He penetrates me slowly. Every inch of my sex is in contact with his protected shaft, awakening the desire that was already at the surface.
I've never experienced sensations like this before. Making love to him is incredible. Divine.
He accelerates and takes hold of my wrists so I am completely at his mercy, penetrating me deeper and deeper. He fills me entirely, wonderfully. I arch back under his assault. I stare into his eyes.
“Come... Come with me,” he says.
Hearing him say these words, I feel like I could immediately explode. An orgasmic cry escapes my lips. I close my eyes for a few seconds, savoring my orgasm, our orgasm. I feel him let go inside me, his pleasure releasing in waves.
We lie there like that, silent, until our bodies begin to breathe normally and our hearts slow down a bit. I try to stop myself from shivering.
“Are you cold?” he asks, concerned.
“A little,” I admit in a calm voice.
“Come on,” he says, leading me by the hand.
He turns off the lights behind us and guides me to the loft.
Seriously? Am I dreaming, or is he inviting me to sleep here?
“Here, put that on.”
I take the t-shirt he hands me and put it on, then lie down next to him.
"Come over here."
I obey without a fight, thrilled to curl up in his comforting arms. My desire flutters again. How am I going to sleep next to this sex god whose scent enchants, whose muscles are perfectly sculpted, whose lips are...
"So? Did you enjoy tonight?” he asks, half-serious, half-joking.
“In the end, I think Le Cinq was my least favorite part,” I tease, running my hand over his chest.
He laughs.
If you only knew how true it was, Liam.
“Zoe?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the first... to sleep here,” he confesses in a whisper.
As if to say it softly made it less incredible.
Knowing that I’m the first instantly sends me to cloud nine, floating next to a pink elephant and five-footed sheep.
