Hell, where had those thoughts come from? I was here to save the day for my pretty girlfriend. And she adored me.
All was well.
***
A week later, I had organized the bookshelves. I kept fiction in the bedroom, and the six shelves were only a quarter filled. I'd have no problem filling them up before the end of next year. Out in the living room I'd organized the non-fiction according to the Dewey Decimal System because, yeah, I'm a geek like that. Didn't matter that I only had the History, Natural Science, Mythology and Travel categories at the moment. Four shelves were filled with travel guides (mostly Paris), historical costumes, and gorgeous Dorling Kindersley guides to bugs and beetles.
Jean-Louis had been impressed with my collection of French history, and he'd browsed and then borrowed a volume written by Oliver Bernier about Paris in the 18th century.
Sharing books with my lover was some kind of all right. (As a reader, you understand.) But how often does it happen in real life that you pair up with someone who was equally as interested in words? I'd found a man who shared my love for books, and with whom I could discuss my latest read over coffee at breakfast, or as we strolled along the Seine feeding sunflower seeds to the pigeons.
Life had become idyllic. I couldn't argue it, and I wouldn't.
And as if to spread frosting to life's delicious cake, it was snowing big, gentle, fluffy flakes outside my window. Sure, it would probably melt because it was still too warm to last, but that didn't mean I wasn't excited for the afternoon walk Jean-Louis had called to invite me on earlier. He'd said he would stop in and choose my clothing, so I should stay in my robe until he arrived. I wasn't about to question that mysterious invite. In fact, I reveled in the subtle domination he exerted at times.
I tugged the thin yellow silk robe tight because the tiny apartment was drafty in the wintertime, and I'd yet to invest in a space heater to place beside the bed. The apartment was cool because the windows were so big. But I wouldn't trade those floor-to-ceilings for more warmth any day.
Life may have been drastically different for me if not for those windows.
Strolling into the bathroom, I brushed my teeth for the second time today. I'd eaten a garlicky vinaigrette on my lunch salad. My hair looked...passable. In the growing-out phase, it was finally dipping below my shoulders and actually had a wave to it thanks to the thickness. Chestnut brown, and not a gray strand yet.
I crossed myself in thanks for that because my female relatives generally went completely gray by age forty. My mother had boldly resisted dying her gorgeous platinum locks, and had looked like one of those older models with the flowy, long silver hair.
Please don't let those Scandinavian roots take hold in my scalp, I whispered to whatever color gods would listen. I made a mental note to say a prayer for color longevity next time I was in Nôtre Dame. Yes, I have my moments of vanity.
Inside the medicine cabinet, my fingers waggled before a few tiny vials of essential oil perfumes. I rarely wore them because my vanilla bath salts generally did the trick. Today I decided to go for a change and selected the clove-spiced-chocolate scent called Vixen. A tap of fragrance to my neck, and there, between my breasts.
A rap at the door rushed me around to answer it. I fell into Jean-Louis's kiss but quickly pulled away as my hands slid over the rough gray wool coat he wore. Nickel buttons dotted the lapels and queued down the front in a military style.
"This is...different."
"My winter coat. It is chilly today."
"It's thirty degrees."
"Like I said, brrrrrr." He made show of shivering and closed the door behind him.
I wanted to laugh. I shouldn't laugh. As a hearty Midwestern girl, I didn't start to shiver until the mercury dropped below zero. Heck, I wore sandals until the snow fell, and I can't remember when I last wore a winter cap (Because you know, it's all about protecting the coif; frozen ears bedamned).
Paris rarely neared the single digits, and it was early, I admit, for such low temps before Christmas. But he did look handsome in the long coat that skimmed his thighs. Black leather gloves and a gray- and blue-striped scarf at his neck finished the look.
"You're like some kind of GQ model, you know that?"
"You are the only woman I want to stare at my pictures then."
The texture of the leather gloves gliding up and over my breasts hardened my nipples and I pressed myself against the rough weave of the coat and tilted my head to catch the kiss he delivered to my neck. His nose was still cool and it tickled my skin.
"Mm, you smell different. Spiced chocolates?"
"You like it?"
A long, sucking kiss below my jaw answered that one nicely. He peeled away the robe and I let it fall away, slinking down my legs to the floor, leaving me naked and he dressed for the Snowpocalypse.
Clinging to the front of his wool coat, I tilted my head as his kisses drew a hot trail down my clavicle and to a nipple, where he sucked it hard. My entire body curled up against his, as if it wanted to become a part of him. Could I? Could I crawl up under the coat and melt into him? Infuse myself into his being?
He lifted me, his mouth still at my breast, and carried me into the bedroom. When I landed on the bed, his gloved hands pushed down my wrists and pinned them to the down comforter near my shoulders. I felt small and bare beneath this fully dressed man. It was a sexy kind of vulnerability that arched my back. I cooed teasingly, and lured him to tend the other nipple.
I hummed deep in my throat, and my legs wrapped about his hips, encumbered by the coat. Thrusting up my hips, I rubbed my bare mons against the rough wool. Ridiculously wet, and squirming against the restraints he maintained at my wrists, I gasped, "Yes, please. Fuck me, Jean-Louis."
"I thought we were going for a walk?"
"Just a quickie? Don't take off your coat. I want you like this."
"Well, I have plans..." His tongue lashed my nipple and I cooed in reaction.
"Plans?" Oh, God, let me get off. It wouldn't take long. My pussy hummed and the harder I rubbed against him, the closer orgasm loomed. "Wait. Don't tell me your plans. Just..."
Another deep, lingering suck at my nipple pulled my back off the bed as I sought his intense ministrations. I gyrated my hips up against him and had succeeded in moving aside the coat. Beneath, the tailored trousers rubbed my clit, which was thick and swollen, wet with need.
"Come," he whispered at my ear.
And that simple word, issued on a hush, and followed with a lash of tongue over my nipple, set me off.
"I am," I murmured as the dizzying crash of success burst like a mini explosion in my groin. It wasn't one of those earth-shattering, shouting kind of orgasms, but rather, an exquisite, finely-honed spark of pure pleasure. "Oh, yes."
I wriggled beneath him and he dropped my wrists so I was able to reach up and pull him down, and not quite force, but certainly push his head lower. He tongued my clit, and that was all it took for a second burst to buck my hips.
Panting, I gripped his hair and pulled up his head. He winked. "Is good?"
"Is good."
***
I have never selected the clothing with which I wished my lover to adorn herself. Hollie had...not a lot of clothing on hangers. The majority was strewn over the easy chair in her bedroom and on the floor. But she seemed to know what was where in each of the piles. I did appreciate that she'd hung the lace dress I'd purchased for her.
"This one," I said, dangling a red wrap dress that appeared thigh length (easy to lift up) and light and loose. "And you've a long winter coat?"
She fluttered about the bedroom, her cheeks still flushed from the orgasm I'd given her on the bed. Like a butterfly flitting into the red dress and then pulling her wings closed to cinch before her waist, she smiled and retrieved a knee-length coat from the rack. Perfect.
I stood beside her after she'd pulled on the coat. The wool coat I wore was the same length, but it was a little big for me, which was also perfect. I'd wra
pped a blue scarf about the lapels, and Hollie pulled it off and threaded it around her neck. I liked it better there. And I adored it when she pushed the fabric to her nose to smell it.
"I love wearing you on me," she said. "Where are we going?"
"For a walk on la rive droite. You up for a surprise?"
She nodded eagerly. I leaned in to kiss her eyelid because those bright blue eyes flashed up at me like a puppy ready for play. I had some play in mind for her that she might protest, so I intended to keep the plan under wraps until she guessed it.
It had snowed last night, and some of the sidewalks had been shoveled, while others I gripped Hollie's hand and we walked on the street to avoid slipping. Once we reached the Eiffel Tower everything was cleared. I picked up in the middle of a Fallout Boy tune and Hollie hummed along with me, casting me a knowing glance as we crossed a street hand in hand.
"I adore you," she said.
"Why? Because we like the same songs?"
"Yes. And because you're so good to me." She tugged the scarf up around her neck.
"You cold?"
She snuggled up closer. "Nope. Got my big, strong Frenchman to keep me warm. Oh! Look at the Tuileries!"
The royal gardens lie across the bridge, and the espaliered trees, bare of summer leaves, glittered with hoar frost.
"It's like a faery land." Hollie rushed ahead, and I lingered, content to set mon abeille free.
If she knew my plans, she might grow anxious. We'd once mentioned our secret fantasy places for where we'd like to have sex. At the time, I had sensed she would be reluctant to play out my fantasy. As was I reluctant to have sex in the snow with her. I didn't think my cock could withstand the cold. Then again, if I owned a cottage in the countryside in which to indulge the winter sex foray, then why not give it a go? I am generally up for anything.
Thinking of which, I must check in with my lawyer regarding the divorce situation. I needed those papers signed. Now. I intended to start shopping around for some land, perhaps with a chateau already on it, but couldn't do that until all ties to the wife had been severed. With a machete.
Why was she making this so difficult?
Because she could. And because I was learning (too late) that she was a greedy bitch.
I didn't think Hollie would ever act as my wife was now. But what man could completely know a woman? I had fun with Hollie. We had great sex. I enjoyed being with her and talking for hours. But it had also begun that way with my wife.
I realized I was clutching my coat right over my heart. What the hell? It hurt to go through this business of tearing apart what I'd once thought was going to be forever. I think... Yes, I know, my wife had broken me. Ripped out my heart and slashed it with her bright red nails.
It did help to have Hollie's brightness in my life to counter that heartache. Hollie made me smile again. But if I thought about it too much, I might decide it was wrong. Was it fair to Hollie? Was she my rebound woman? Could I have a rebound woman while still legally married? Did she consider herself the other woman? She was an affair, to be sure.
I wanted more. At this moment in time, when the woman I loved was pointing out the sparkling snow-dusted trees to me, trying to get my attention by jumping and waving her hands, I wanted all of her.
Yes, I did love her because she was a little crazy. Not psycho crazy, more like sexyfuncrazy. And that made my heart relax, and I was able to breathe into this affair.
"Were you lost?" she asked as I approached and wrapped an arm about her waist. She kissed my cheek. A cool morsel. "You didn't see me."
"I was thinking."
"Good, bad, or ugly thoughts?"
I shrugged. "Eh."
"Don't give me that Frenchman's excuse."
"Frenchman's excuse?"
"Yeah. It's that 'eh' you do. You and your ilk are masters at it. Tell me what you were thinking about?"
I clasped her hand and directed her toward the Louvre, the former royal palace that paralleled the vast gardens. "I was thinking how this divorce is dragging on and I wish it was over."
"Oh."
I'd known she didn't want to hear that. But it wasn't as though I could always shelter her from my messy situation. It felt oddly deceptive to not tell her about it. And I didn't like deception. Lies and mistruths burned like the devil's pitchfork in my soul.
"After the divorce, I want to start looking for land about an hour out of Paris," I said.
"Really? To move to permanently?"
"Maybe. If I can find a chateau, perhaps. But it could serve as a weekend home or summer retreat."
"Sounds decadent."
"Earlier, I was thinking about your fantasy of having sex in the snow. If I owned a chateau...well then."
"Sexy snow angels! My halo would be huge. Oh, and your angel would have a penis dangling between its legs."
"I should hope so."
In a burst of laughter, Hollie tugged me onward. We took the concrete stairs up from the garden to street level and crossed in the middle of the street because there was surprisingly little traffic. The museum was slower in the afternoon; that is why I'd specifically chosen this time.
"We're going into the Louvre?" Hollie asked. "And you're talking about sex fantasies. Oh. No."
She stopped walking and her shoulders visibly dropped. I clutched her hand reassuringly and kissed the back of it.
Her eyes sought mine. "Are we going to...?"
I tried a sweet shrug with a smile. She bit the corner of her lip. Nervous? Or scared to death?
Had I gone about this particular surprise the wrong way?
Chapter Seven
We entered the much-needed warmth of the museum beneath the glass pyramid in the main courtyard called the Cour Napoléon. The pyramid was completed in 1989, and hadn't been a huge hit with the Parisians for its juxtaposition of the ultra-modern within the historic architecture. I thought it was gorgeous, and in the summertime, the clouds reflecting on the sun-infused glass created a fantasy facade.
I wasn't surprised the museum was dead, only a few dozen patrons milling about when normally there were lines. But I couldn't focus on our luck.
Jean-Louis had brought me here to have sex. In front of the Mona Lisa. Because that was his fantasy. And I do recall agreeing to accompany him on said quest to achieve that particular fantasy only because, at the time, I'd thought it would never happen.
Now here I stood, clutching his hand so I wouldn't go down. Because really? Sex in the Louvre? With people milling about? And guards in practically every room watching the people?
"Hollie?" he whispered at my ear. "Are you okay?"
He'd asked the same of me that first night we'd met in person at the All Saints Day party. "I..."
I was going to be sick.
No! I would not let nerves ruin this...this adventure. Right? This could be an adventure. The vixen within me was jumping for joy at such a prospect. Covert sex with a gorgeous Frenchman in the most famous museum in the world? Go, super crazy live-for-the-moment me!
Soon enough, the introvert in me would join in and get on board.
Maybe?
"Let's wander," Jean-Louis suggested. He tugged his coat open and led the way.
I didn't say a thing. He'd flashed his museum card and paid for me since I hadn't thought to bring along my purse, in which, I did have a museum card. I simply smiled and allowed him to take the lead. I didn't want to ruin this for him. It would be fun. Daring. Sexy!
Oh, mercy. I clutched each end of his scarf, snuggled about my neck, and focused on the delicious sable scent of him wafting from the fabric.
"We don't have to do it," he said as we strolled the wide marble hallways. His heels clicked, and my boot heels tread a muted thud in bass harmony to his. "It was something I thought would be fun. That's why I wore the long coat."
Oh. My. God. And that's why he'd selected my clothes. The wrap dress and the long coat. I realized now he'd picked things that would be easy to access—no panties!—and yet,
would also—hopefully—conceal.
Such a sneaky Frenchman.
He tugged me near a wall and clasped my hands and kissed the cool knuckles. Yes, I was still cold. I wasn't sure I'd ever warm up because my blood had stopped pumping out of fear.
His kiss was like a Godiva truffle sitting in the middle of a Target-brand chocolate box. Unexpected. Such a treat. Something I'd never share with anyone. Melty and warm, and I wanted more, more and more.
I leaned against him, and he tilted his hips forward so I could feel his hard-on beneath the thin trousers. Oh my God, I actually wanted to do this. To feel him inside me while standing here, in a public place. I could do it right here. Turn around and lean back against him while he slipped up my dress and slid inside me. To any who passed by, we'd look like a couple embracing, standing off to the side after a long day walking the museum.
But his fantasy was to do it with the Mona Lisa watching. In a small, brightly-lit room that afforded no safe walls with which to lean against to hide our stolen liaison. And I knew there was always at least one guard in the room, if not more.
"I want you," I whispered. My introvert cringed. What the hell!
"I always want you. I won't force you to do anything, Hollie. You know you are safe with me."
I nodded. He was a good man. And that's why I wanted to do this for him. And it wasn't as though the thrill of danger and getting caught didn't appeal. A tiny part of me was already hiking up my skirt for him. It was my vixen. I did adore her.
Ok, so I'd let her out to play.
"Let's go see what the Mona Lisa is up to." I pulled him down the hallway in the direction where I knew the famous painting hung.
I am not an overtly sexually-adventurous woman. Yeah, so I had sex in windows with complete strangers (just the one stranger; and we were dating now). And yes, I'd done the cyber sex thing, as well. Again, only with Jean-Louis. So maybe this was a natural step toward fortifying that relationship and keeping it fresh?
Did we need fresh? We'd only been together a few months. Hell, we shouldn't go stale for many more months, am I right? I confess, I wasn't sure regarding the shelf life of relationship freshness. I'd been a serial one-month dater since I'd moved to Paris.
The Paris Secrets trilogy: includes: Window, Screen, and Skin Page 34
