by Fifi Flowers
“It wouldn't have mattered, bébé, there's only one man in a window for you!”
“Are you mine?” I inquired with a nervous giggle.
Evan looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Yes bébé, I am yours. Let's get out of here, I need you naked and in my arms for the rest of the night.”
AS PROMISED LAST night in the heat of passion, Evan agreed to treat me to breakfast and a romantique walk. It's amazing what you can get a man to do when you’re naked and riding him.
This morning, showered, wrapped in a towel, my yummy smelling man asked, “Where to for breakfast, bébé? Anywhere you want.”
“Hmmm…” I said trying to concentrate on getting ready rather than thinking about what was under the towel riding low on his v-cut hips. How easy it would be to have breakfast in bed.
“Are you ogling moi, ma cherie?” Two very blue eyes stared back at me in the mirror imploring me to answer.
I giggled, “It’s hard not to do, monsieur.”
With an amused laugh, he instructed, “Well, stop it or we will never get out of here. I have no problem bending you over the counter and fucking you until you can’t walk, but I promised to take you on a Paris adventure this morning.”
Out on the street, we walked toward the Seine in hopes of catching a taxi to Montmartre. I insisted we walk up the steps to the Sacré-Coeur and then find a little place for breakfast. If I was with Lily, we would’ve taken the Metro, but Evan preferred to be above ground. His reasoning was that he didn't want to miss out on the sights of the city. He was right, there was so much to see, and I loved how he directed my attention to points of interest as if he was a tour guide. He told me stories of his life in Paris, and he made me laugh when he told me about getting lost on the Metro. Apparently, he ended up in Versailles with an invalid ticket, and he had to hop the turnstile and a worker chased after him. I was wondering if that was the real reason he didn't like to ride the Metro.
In Montmartre, we made our way hand-in-hand up at least a million steps to La Basilique du Sacré-Coeur. Standing outside the church looking out over Paris and I let out a big sigh, “There is nowhere like Paris. It is truly a breathtaking view from up here.”
“I quite like the view next to me,” Evan said pulling me to stand in front of him, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin atop of my head. I swooned in his arms as we gazed out appreciating the city laid before us. We remained like this for several minutes before he asked if I was ready to maneuver our way down to a café for petite déjeuner.
Settling on Coquelicot, an intimate little bakery on Rue des Abbesses, I ordered my usual breakfast of croissant, berries and café crème, and somehow it tasted better in a Parisian café. My beautiful man ordered the same adding a soft boiled egg. We sat chatting, and people watching, occasionally making up stories about what we thought some of them did for a living. Mr. Duke had quite an imagination and had me doubled over with laughter. Since smiling and public laughter wasn't usually displayed, we looked like the typical tourist, but I could care less. Being with him brought such joy to my life.
Smiling at me Evan asked, “If you could do anything, what is the ultimate thing you’d like to do in Paris?
Quickly I answered, “I would like to be fucked while watching the lights twinkle on the Eiffel Tower.” A heated face followed my response.
My answer causes mon cher monsieur to choke a bit, before a couple of raised eyebrows, and a deliciously wicked grin appeared on his face. “That could be arranged on our next visit.”
“I will hold you to that promise as well,” I replied, wondering if we would ever be together in Paris again.
As if he could read my mind, he quipped, “Let’s draw up a contract,” with a playful grin.
I laughed and changed the subject. “I say we purchase some pastries, wander around and work off this breakfast, so we can indulge.”
A big grin spread across his face, and his blue eyes lit up magically as he spoke, “Mmmm... Indulge. I like that word, but I’m not relating it to pastry at all. I say we wander a bit and then I indulge in your sweet body.”
I smiled at my naughty man. “You want to wander back to the playground, monsieur?”
“I want to wander to a taxi that takes me to the 7th arrondissement immediately,” He said walking out of the patisserie with his arm firmly around my waist, making a beeline to the first taxi we found, I realized then, our Parisian stroll was over.
AFTER SPENDING A romantic morning on the streets of Paris, we decided to lounge around until it was time to get ready for the Christmas Fashionganza charity benefit later that evening. Evan was an ambassador for the charity, and he would be the main attraction on the catwalk. Sitting on the sofa together, Evan was browsing on his tablet and I was propped up in the corner of the sofa, leaning against plush pillows with my toes tucked under one of his muscular thighs, sketching. Occasionally, I wiggled my toes and peeked in his direction hoping to break his intense concentration and from time to time I received a raised eyebrow, a wink and a few grins.
I was happy and content until his announcement, “Looks like we made news while wandering around Paris last night. People want to know who you are.”
“Let me see.” He showed me. The headline read “WHO IS THE MYSTERY WOMAN ON THE ARM OF SUPERMODEL EVAN DUKE” Looking at the photo; I was relieved my face was barely visible. “Not easy to see me, I'm safe.”
“You won't be tonight on the red carpet with me,” Evan informed me.
I made light of his remark, “They will be disappointed when they see you arrive with no one recognizable, just an ordinary woman, not your usual young, long-legged model.”
Changing his tone to a more playful one, Evan responded with his wicked smile, “You're extremely special to me, bébé.” Adding a wink to his repertoire of expressions that delighted me, he added, “I'm never disappointed.” Those dazzling blue eyes penetrated my skin leaving me scarred for life.
By late afternoon, it was time to get ready. I put makeup on and pulled my hair up into a messy French twist to show off the back of my dress. Evan was right. The dress hugged my curves perfectly. However, I thought Evan was having second thoughts about the dress. Once he glimpsed it on, he raised an eyebrow.
“You don't like the dress on me?”
“Oh, I like it on you. It makes me want to rip it off you and fuck you. You are going to have men undressing you with their eyes, and I’m not going to like it.” I giggled and kissed him.
ARRIVING AT THE Grand Palais, we were directed to the step and repeat. As we moved further down the red carpet, we were greeted by hundreds of blinding flashes. Evan stopped to pose and smile for the cameras and spectators who had waited for his arrival. Sensing my need to become invisible or at the very least disappear, he kept a firm hold on my hand, anchoring me close to him. It would be hard for the photographers to post a photo of him without me in the frame, but every time I tried to pull away from him at the request of the photographers, his grip tightened. Finally, I gave up and stayed exactly where he wanted me.
Once we stepped inside the museum doors, my eyes were tantalized by the wonders of Christmas. A gigantic silver tree in the center of the exhibit hall was decorated with twinkling red and green lights. Several oversized round, retro-contemporary, button-tufted banquettes in shades of red and green alternated throughout the space. A few mirrored bars were scattered about while French Christmas music filled the air. We milled around the room with Evan greeting several people and answering questions directed to him by the media.
When chimes began to ring, Evan headed backstage, turning me over to an usher who escorted me to my front row seat. Walking inside the grand hall through plush velvet red drapery to witness the Fashionganza runway show, I was in awe once again. The venue was spectacular. The catwalk was bright white with faux snow around the edges. Hanging above, suspended on red and green velvet cords that appeared to come from out of nowhere were multifaceted, mirrored balls. Red and green lights
skimmed over the room as the mirrored balls spun making the room sparkle.
As I sat and waited for the show to begin, I scanned the crowd. There were many glamorous faces, some of them famous, surrounding me; handsome men suited up and stunning women in chic gowns.
The music started playing loudly, and the lighting took on a more dramatic vibe. The catwalk sprung to life and I was entranced watching the figures strut down the runway. On the women, the fashions were bold: Illogical. Fun. Fantastic. Bizarre. The hair was pulled back severely on some models, and on others it was piled high. The makeup was extremely dramatic, and facial structures were pronounced; cheek bones were popping, eyes were dark, smoky and intense, lips were pouty and bright red.
Next the men appeared. They were tailored, suave, debonair, and statuesque with chiseled features. All at once a hush fell over the crowd. Whispering began; a few moans and maybe even a purr or two invaded my ears as Evan came into view. The ultimate male supermodel captured everyone’s attention including mine. He was gorgeous strutting down the catwalk. I was totally enchanted. He had such a presences about him; so confident. Watching I fell into such a trance, I couldn't tell you what he was wearing, he could've been naked; I was lost in his beauty. Funny, I looked at him all the time. But seeing him strutting down the catwalk, he seemed like a stranger... not my Evan.
After the fashion show, I was again escorted directly to Evan’s side. With his hand on the small of my back, we made our way back to the reception area for an after-party. I was in a sea of gorgeous people; even the wait-staff was stunning. Champagne was promptly delivered into my hand by statuesque female models in gowns covered in green sequins. C'est parfait pour moi! Perfect for me! Hors d’oeuvres were hand-passed by male models dressed in black slacks, white coats and red bow ties. Several people were trying to chat up Evan, but he made a point to introduce me, never excluding me from his conversations. I loved that he was so attentive to me, never leaving my side.
At one point of the evening, I excused myself, weaving my way to the loo a bit tipsy thanks to those champagne glasses that kept finding their way into my hand. I entered into the powder room elegantly decorated with several silver ornately framed mirrors and red jeweled chandelier. I was thrilled to find the room empty. Minus the usual line up of waiting women, I whisked quickly into a stall. Within moments, I realized my timing was perfect as I heard the click click of several high-heels on the marble floor. The ladies were laughing and talking in hushed voices as they entered but just as I was about to exit the stall, they began excitedly discussing the show, and its main man, the eye candy they all showed up to see.
“The best part of the show was that hot Evan Duke.”
“He is fuck-a-licious!”
“No doubt about it. I would spread my legs for him anywhere, anytime.”
“I wanted to rip his clothes off. They really shouldn’t clothe him. Whoever notices what he's wearing?”
“Fuck. I could eat him alive.”
“Hey, does anyone know who the woman is with him tonight?”
“I don’t know, but she’s one lucky bitch.”
“She doesn’t look like his type.”
“No, she's not like his usual cup of tea; young, tall, and model.”
I heard enough. I didn't want to hear anymore. As soon as I heard all the stall doors close, I hurried with my head down to wash my hands at the sink and rushed out the door. I was ready to leave. Walking back to find Evan, a strong hand grabbed my arm, and started pulling me back towards the bathrooms.
“Please let go of me. I’m here with someone. I’m not interested,” I said trying to pull away and then stopped when I turned into the face of my ex-fiancé, stunned I exclaimed, “What are you doing? Let go of me, Derek!”
“Hello Melissa. Surprised to see me?” Still holding my arm tightly, he pulled me in close to him putting his face so close to mine that I could feel his hot, alcohol-fueled breath. In a low measured voice he hissed, “You fucked up my life, little lady. Why couldn't you just be a good little rich girl and marry me? No one wanted you, but I was up for the game. Not that I honestly gave a shit about you, but I could've played the devoted kept husband. But no! No, you had to get me transferred to Paris just because you heard me say I wanted to play golf. What the fuck, you little bitch! You get a husband. Maybe some fucking brats and I get golf. You are so lucky you didn't get me fired.”
Turning my face from his foul breath and his distorted rage filled face, I said the only think I could think of, “I didn't have anything to do with your transfer. I didn't even know you were transferred. And I definitely didn't know you were transferred to McDimel-Sanders' Paris division.”
“Don't give me your innocent bullshit,” he snarled back at me through clenched teeth.
“Let go of me! You're hurting me,” I tried to cry out, but my voice didn't rise above a whisper.
I tried to pull away, but his hold on me grew even firmer as he continued to rant, “I don’t give a shit. You hurt me far more. I hate fucking Paris. I know you like this shit hole of a city. You... you and your fucking irritating French words. They should’ve transferred you here, but no they sent me to fucking frogland. Every single morning that I wake up here, I think of you and how you fucked up my life.” Putting his lips close to my ear he whispered, “I have been waiting for the day I would see you again. It's payday, bitch.”
In a feeble attempt to calm him down, I asked calmly as I tried to take a step back from him, “Why didn’t you just go to another firm if you didn’t want to stay with the agency?”
“I tried to get a job in New York but thanks to McDimel I’ve been black-balled, you stupid bitch. He wanted me as far from you as possible. So I’ve been stuck here, until now.” His face took on a sinister look as he continued, “You see lucky for me, I saw your picture in the tabloid with Evan Duke. I hadn't planned to attend this fucking McDimel sponsored event, but I took a chance that you would be on the arm of that pretty boy.”
As the realization of what he was really saying began to take shape, I yanked my arm out of his grasp and hissed back. “What do you want from me?”
Shaking his head as if I was nothing but a stupid schoolgirl he laughed softly through his anger, “What I always wanted from you. Money. I want money, enough of it to get me out of this godforsaken city.”
Now I laughed at the ridiculousness of the entire conversation. “You want money? And exactly why would I give you money?”
My laughter inflamed him. “You might not be willing to give me money, but I bet your boyfriend will. Now let’s go.” He grabbed me again and used his tight grip to move me towards an exit.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said struggling to get away from him. It was lucky for me that someone came out of the bathroom and bumped into him. His balance being shaky at best, he stumbled as I broke free. I rushed into the closest room and stopped dead in my tracks. All I could see was a tuxedoed man with dark hair in an embrace, passionately kissing a tall brunette woman. Evan. Oh no! Was it really Evan? My mind was everywhere and nowhere. I told myself to walk away.
I started to panic. I could feel tears welling up. I stumbled backwards and turned to run away but instead I was stopped by a firm solid wall of a chest. For a split second, I thought it was Derek and fear rose in my throat, but as a face came into focus my breath left me as my body filled with relief. I was looking up into the gorgeous face that always melted my heart. “Bébé, are you okay?”
I didn't say anything, but looked back to the entwined couple. Evan followed my gaze. Taking me firmly into his arms, he kissed me. “You thought that was me. I would never do that to you. As you can see, there are a lot of men here wearing tuxedos.”
“I know, but I’ve had too much champagne. I’m not in my right mind. Besides I’m a little disoriented after having someone try to pull me into the bathroom.” As those words left my mouth, I wished I would’ve just stated the simple fact of too much bubbly.
The look o
n Evan’s face was intense as he questioned me, “What do you mean someone grabbed you? Where is he? Do you see him in here now? Tell me what he looks like? I’ll get security.”
With my hand rubbing his arm in a soothing motion, I answered, “I don’t know. It was nothing. I’m fine. I don’t see him. My vision is also a little impaired, and it’s hard to distinguish one man from the next in this sea of formal wear.” I wanted to put an end to this situation without lying to Evan, so I assured him once again that I was alright and that there was nothing to worry about and drew him in for a deep kiss.
I didn't know if I successfully appeased his questions, but I knew I had redirected his attention as he growled, “Let’s go home, bébé.” Evan called for our car, and we were out the door, pushing through paparazzi.
I WAS RELIEVED to be back in the safety of Evan’s apartment. The night was unquestionably eventful from the stunning venue to the magnifique show to the not-so-wonderful appearance of Derek. I was shocked to see him, and his anger directed toward me. What did he mean about payday? Would he come after me again? Would he come to New York? Would he contact Evan? No need to mention anything about this little encounter, I was sure it was nothing. He was drunk. I wanted to erase that from my mind and focus on the fantastic elements of the evening.
I truly loved seeing my man strutting down the catwalk, but now I just wanted him stripped and all mine. Helping each other remove our clothes, we headed for lovely shower together. Capturing my mouth, he lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs firmly around his wet, slick body. I moaned deeply, “Merci monsieur,” as he embedded his hard cock in me and slid me against the shower wall. Thrusting into me over and over, I pushed my hips into him until we reached an amazing climax together. Showering with him was such a yummy activity!
Dried off and heading for bed, Evan said, “Hey bébé, I think we should do the photo shoot with Lily.”
