by Noelle Mack
Bryan took a seat at a monitor and pulled up his e-mail account with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrapped sandwich.
One from his mother. He opened it right away.
How are you?
Three little words that he had to answer or he’d be in big trouble. His mom would send the Royal Californian Mounted Police on a global quest to find his ass if he didn’t.
He took a bite of the sandwich and thought about what to say.
Still in Paris. Beautiful. Wish you could see it.
He looked through his previous e-mails and sent her the link to the article about him in Bonjour Paris, adding his own version of the event. Then he debated telling her about Odette.
Nuh-uh. Not yet.
He tapped out a couple of paragraphs about where he’d wandered in the city, leaving in the misspellings so she wouldn’t think he was cribbing it from a travel guide and wrapped up with a few lines about his hiking trip in Alsace.
The fashion part would thrill her—she’d forward all that to her friends.
Okay. He was done. He added a love ya and clicked Send.
Bryan scrolled through the rest, picking up on a couple of .edu endings right away and opening those up.
Thank you for your interest in…
Yeah. He was still under consideration. Hurry up and wait some more, dude, was what they were basically saying.
He signed out, stuffing the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and brushing the crumbs off his hands. A tall, brawny man walked by the window and glanced at him, then stopped in his tracks. Bryan smiled and got up to go, slam-dunking the crumpled paper from the sandwich on the way.
“Achille! What are you doing here?” He looked down and saw the Chihuahua pull on his thin leash, then sit down.
“Shopping. He won’t walk more than a few steps and I cannot carry him,” Achille said. He lifted his hands, which held bags bulging with his purchases, and lifted the little dog along with them. Jimmy gave an exasperated yap. “I should have left him at home.”
Bryan reached for the leash. “I don’t really have anything else to do. Leave him with me.”
“Are you sure? Do you not have a headache after last night?”
“Gone.”
Achille sighed as he looked at the dog. “He may give you another one. Sometimes I think we should send him to obedience training.”
“This little guy? What’s the point?”
Jimmy blinked his eyes, as if he was glad someone understood.
“All right then,” Achille said. “Jimmy, be good. See you later, Bryan.”
“Glad to help.”
He looked at the dog, happy to have companionship on a day that had started off lousy, but was slowly improving. Then he realized that he couldn’t sightsee with Jimmy on a leash.
Not a problem. Just walking around was fun, and Paris was full of parks. He would let Jimmy run free when they got to one where that was okay.
He gave a tug on the leash. Jimmy kept his skinny butt firmly planted on the pavement.
Bryan didn’t feel like arguing. He scooped the dog up and tucked him in his jacket, his big-for-a-little-dog head hanging out. “How’s that?”
Jimmy blinked blissfully.
Bryan walked on, heading back toward the first café he’d passed, using it as a landmark. He wanted to buy a map at a kiosk and figure out which way to go next.
The wrought iron chairs were filled now, and the mix was a little different. More laptops, less lingering. A woman sitting at one looked at him over the screen, like a beauty of yesterday looking over a fan.
Nice eyes.
He realized that he’d seen them before. “Marie?”
“I thought it was you.” Marie Arelquin stood up, laughing, and shook hands. “How have you been, Bryan?”
“Fine. I’ve been having a great time.”
“Who is this?” She patted the Chihuahua’s bony head.
“His name is Jimmy. He belongs to a friend.”
She pulled up a chair for him. “Please, sit down.”
“Aren’t you working?”
Marie smiled. “Pretending to work, like half of Paris.” She tapped a couple of keys and shut down the laptop, slipping it into its padded case.
“Okay then.” He looked down. “Jimmy, lay low.”
“It is all right to have a dog in a café. Sometimes even in a restaurant.”
“Did you hear that?” he said to his jacket. The dog had curled up and was closing his eyes. “Aww. He’s asleep.”
“Good girl bait, a dog like that,” Marie said mischievously.
Bryan shook his head. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“You mean Odette Gaillard isn’t?”
He blushed a little. “You know about that?”
“Only that you two left the show together and she didn’t take a bow. You must be having a very good time.”
Bryan hemmed and hawed, and decided to act like he was famous and not confirm or deny anything. “She’s really interesting. I didn’t know you knew her—outside of professionally, I mean.”
“We went to school together.”
“Really.” He found that reassuring. Marie Arelquin seemed totally normal. Even conservative. Her chic suit and the scarf neatly tied at the neck made her look older than Odette, though.
“She was not a very good student, but very bright, of course. She liked to have fun. Always in the director’s office for one infraction or another, usually of the dress code. She made her own clothes, you know.”
“I can imagine.”
“She has always had a style that is all her own,” Marie said warmly.
“I like it. The show was great. Never saw anything like it.”
Marie folded her arms on the marble table and leaned forward a little. “So how much longer are you staying? And where are you staying?”
“Oh, a few weeks maybe. I’m crashing on a friend’s couch.”
“Is that the friend who Jimmy belongs to?”
“Yeah.” He looked down into his jacket. “Still asleep.”
He chatted with Marie for a while longer, enjoying the easygoing mood of a morning in Paris. The tense, sometimes frenzied vibe of Odette’s business seemed far away. The city had a laid-back aspect. You just had to find it.
Odette was nowhere to be found when Bryan got back to the atelier. Marc caught up with him while he was walking around looking for her.
“There you are,” Marc said. “Delphine said you’d come back. You’ve been gone for hours.”
“Yeah, I went for a walk, got to talking, wandered around. Where’s Odette?”
“In a fitting. Strict security. After what happened—”
“No need to explain,” Bryan said.
Marc looked him over, noticing the bulge in his zipped jacket. “You look pregnant. Really, Bryan. Your clothes—”
“That would be your dog,” Bryan interrupted him. He lowered the zipper carefully and pulled on the jacket so Marc could look in.
“Zut! Look how happy he is!” Marc gave Bryan a slap on the back. “You are so nurturing, you make me nauseous.”
“Tough.”
The dog gave Marc a bleary look and settled back down.
“Do you want to attend the fitting?” the assistant asked.
“Am I allowed?”
“Odette specifically said to ask you to come in.”
Bryan shot him a doubtful glance. “Don’t her clients mind having men in the room?”
“They assume we are all homosexual.”
“Uh, well, I mind. Even Grischenka got me hot. For a little while. It just doesn’t seem right. No, I’ll wait.”
Marc shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He steered Bryan to an empty office not too far from the several rooms where fittings were done. “See you later. Don’t let Jimmy pee on the carpet when he wakes up.”
“Hell, no. I’m in charge, not him.”
“Hah. Just you wait.”
Bryan settled back in the sw
ivel chair. It felt pretty good to sit down after a long walk on old streets. He’d covered some distance after leaving Marie Arelquin at the café.
Jimmy poked out his head to be petted and Bryan obliged him.
It wasn’t long before something disturbed their peace. He could hear female voices that he figured were coming from the fitting rooms. Odette’s was one. Soothing. And there were a couple of others. Fluttery.
And another one that rose over all the rest. Strident. Pissedoff. And weirdly familiar.
Bryan heard a door get yanked open and then bang shut behind someone angry. The sound of high heels, muted by the thick carpet they stabbed, was next.
“I look fat!” a woman shrieked. A blonde bombshell who’d been strapped and pinned into a barely-there bondage dress stalked past his door. “Really fat!”
Odette and several assistants came after her.
“Madame Krissie, please,” said an anxious girl.
“Let her howl,” Odette said. “She needs to.”
Krissie? Even from the back, Bryan thought Odette’s client looked familiar. No wonder he’d recognized the voice. Krissie Howard was the lead singer for Chaos. And she sure as hell didn’t look fat.
This was a fitting he wanted to see. It was amazing how quickly certain scruples could be set aside.
He got up and looked down the hall. Krissie had gotten as far as she could without actually blasting through a wall cartoon-style. She was pounding on it instead, throwing a spectacular tantrum.
Odette stood to one side, her arms folded over her chest, her assistants standing behind her. They clutched scraps of black material and scissors.
“You have to fix this,” Krissie snarled. “Now.”
“Of course,” Odette said patiently. “If you will please come with me.” She extended a hand as if she hadn’t heard one word of Krissie’s ranting and raving.
Krissie tugged the dress down over her thighs. “I’m supposed to look wicked. Not pudgy.”
“We can do wicked,” Odette said soothingly.
The rock star tossed her bleached, crimped locks and condescended to be led back. Bryan stepped inside the door frame, hoping she wouldn’t take a random swing at him.
But she made Odette stop.
“Oh my gawwwwd, look at the dog,” she said. “I love dogs! Is he yours? Can I pet him?”
To his credit, Jimmy didn’t shrink away. He was turning out to be tougher than Bryan expected.
Bryan felt a little tingle in his cock when Krissie bent over and cooed at the Chihuahua. A hot, sweaty smell emanated from her that was almost rank. Jimmy sniffed at her cleavage with interest.
Wrong species, little guy, Bryan thought with amusement. Even if she is a bitch. “Sure. Go ahead,” was what he said.
He glanced at Odette, whose lips were pressed together. Her assistants were looking curiously at the dog.
Marie had been right. Jimmy was great girl bait. He got a hand around the dog’s warm body and lifted him out of his jacket. “Say hi to everybody, Jimmy.”
The dog’s little legs danced in midair as he gave random licks to whoever touched him first.
“Can I hold him?” Krissie asked.
“Ah—okay.” Despite his diminutive size, he was a man’s dog. Bryan wasn’t sure if Jimmy would take to someone as screechy as Krissie.
She let him curl up on her nearly bare bosom and the dog shot Bryan a fooled-ya look.
“You can come with us,” the rock star said to Bryan. “I don’t want him to miss his daddy.”
Marc came around a corner, probably because he’d heard the commotion, and made a gagging face for Bryan and Odette’s benefit without the star or the assistants seeing him. “Oui, Krissie,” he said when he got closer. “Whatever you like. Bryan, come along.”
He tagged after the group, ignoring a glare from Odette.
So she could be jealous. She wasn’t so totally sophisticated that nothing really mattered to her. He was fine with that.
With the dog riding on her bosom, Krissie walked more gently. She cooed to Jimmy as Odette dropped behind to talk to Bryan, drawing to one side and letting her assistants return with Marc and the rock star to the fitting rooms.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing,” he said blandly. “I was just standing there with Marc’s dog. Now she’s happy.”
“I am not.”
Bryan touched a hand to her lower back, as if he was guiding her down the hallway. What he was really doing was assessing her. In his experience, women often said one thing and felt another. He was getting a melty vibe from her, like she wasn’t really mad.
“Leave early. We can both be happy,” he said.
“What’s got into you?”
Bryan shrugged. He was actually glad to be relieved of the dog, although he’d enjoyed the attention he got with him. “I had a great walk. Mellowed me out.”
“You weren’t so very mellow when you left this morning.”
“No, I wasn’t. I had a hangover and—”
“You said things were happening too fast for you. Tant pis.”
He knew what that meant. Tough luck. But her bravado didn’t match the look he’d seen in her eyes this morning. “Hey, settle down.” He ran a hand down her spine and got that melty vibe again. “I got some fresh air, played in the park. I’m an outdoors guy, remember?”
She nodded.
“A hothouse like this”—he gestured at the striking photos of ultra-glam models and stars as they passed them on the walls—“is not my natural environment. But here I am.”
“Bien. You are a good sport. Will you come in for Krissie’s fitting? She is a world-class bitch but I believe she likes you.”
“Anything for fashion.” He dropped a kiss on Odette’s hair, feeling a little guilty about the way he was playing her.
The star was in the middle of the fitting room as they entered, her arms above her head, standing on a low box. Marc had his little dog back, and Jimmy’s pop-eyes were taking in the scene.
Wide bands of black stretchy material were being pinned around Krissie by two dressmaking assistants.
“Squeeze me!” Krissie said loudly. “I love the feeling!”
“Does it help you make the high notes?” Marc said. “Justine, pull tighter.”
Krissie’s big breasts bulged over the top part. “Oo, yes,” she giggled, looking down. “Strap those puppies down.”
Justine moved the bands of material so that the maximum amount of skin elsewhere was visible.
“Please look in the mirror, Madame Howard,” she said.
Krissie jumped down from her six-inch pedestal and strutted over, hands on her swinging hips. She jumped up and down, making her boobs jiggle. “More bounce to the ounce. My man fans will go wild.”
“No doubt,” Marc said icily. “Odette, what do you think?”
Odette looked her client over. “Should we reveal more of her bottom?”
Bryan wished he could think of something useful to do besides just look on. Say, pick lint off the carpet with tweezers. Something that would demand his close and undivided attention.
Odette went over to Krissie and began to tug at the bands of material, pulling them down. Her ass cleavage was revealed and it was as spectacular as the front. “Comme ça,” Odette said with satisfaction, turning to the two men. “What do you think?”
“It balances the balcony,” Marc said.
Bryan didn’t say anything.
Krissie pirouetted in front of the mirror, turning to get a rear view. A mischievous look came into her eyes, and she turned again, stepping toward Bryan.
She faced him and then turned her ass toward him, bending over with her hands on her knees. Then she thrust backward against his crotch before he could move and pressed her soft ass firmly into him. He gasped but got erect in less than three seconds.
He couldn’t step away because she was sure to fall if he did.
She felt his hard-on. She positioned her behind
just right, kept his rod in between her barely-wrapped cheeks, and slid over it. Little squats. Effective toners for her hips, thighs, and buttocks. Killer move on his trapped dick.
“Road test,” she announced. “Is that working for you, Dog Daddy?”
He caught Odette’s glare and returned it with a look of helplessness mingled with, he was sure, inadvertent lust.
Getting a rub from a plump set of very feminine ass cheeks caused an inevitable biological reaction that had everything to do with the law of evolution. Krissie’s slow, voluptuous movement would ensure the transmission of his DNA to future generations.
Meaning he was about to come in his pants.
Then Marc pretended to drop the dog, catching Jimmy in midair just as Krissie straightened up.
Bryan shot him a grateful look. He took Krissie by the hips and lifted her forward. If he pushed, she’d topple over.
“Gotcha!” A man with a graying, limp ponytail and sunglasses breezed in, his cell phone held out in take-a-picture position. “Krissie, you’re too much. Who’s your latest victim?”
“Delete that, Max.” She laughed as she straightened. “I really don’t know.”
“Sure looked like you knew him real well.”
She yawned. “Nah. I was just fooling around.”
Bryan wasn’t sure if the photo had been deleted from the phone or not. The man was fiddling with the buttons and frowning at the tiny screen.
“You took that off, right?” Bryan said, trying to keep his voice friendly.
“Sure, sure.” The limp ponytail flipped in Bryan’s face as the man turned around to greet a lot of other people who actually did seem to know Krissie real well. They barged into the room, and Marc introduced Bryan to her manager, her publicist, her hairdresser, her agent, the band’s manager, and three or four losers, male and female, who fell into the broader category of entourage. There was no way he was going to remember all those names. But he had to hand it to Marc for being able to.
“Whaddya think?” Krissie modeled the banded dress, bending over, flipping her hair around, wiggling her ass. “Am I a cheap tramp or what?”
