The Inn of Destiny

by Gene P. Abel

  Although this was the case, the male students attending the prestigious universities in New England were well aware of Smith and the twenty-five hundred girls on campus, mostly from well-to-do families. The program at Smith included an option to study abroad during junior year. In fact, almost one quarter of the junior class participated in this program. Jackie had decided to study in Paris, and that was one of the reasons she chose Smith. Jackie loved art, which was the primary reason she selected Paris for her overseas study. Little did she know her year abroad would enhance her academic studies and give her a better sense of what she wanted from life. Even though the Smith students were supervised while abroad, they had many opportunities to experience life in their host countries.

  One such case for Jackie was her relationship that developed with François. He was a twenty-nine-year-old artist whose outstanding talent hadn’t been discovered yet. Jackie was seated alone at a small outdoor cafe just around the corner from where she lived. She was having a drink of bottled water when she first saw François. He had his ever-present drawing pad under his arm as he strolled down the sidewalk across from the café. They seemed to notice each other about the same time, and there was an instant connection. Jackie noticed his great butt and the friendly expression on his face. As for François, Jackie’s red hair and striking body were all he needed to spring into action.

  He crossed the small street and approached her table. “Parlez-vous français?” he asked.

  Although Jackie had taken French as part of her studies at Smith, she shook her head no.

  François spoke almost perfect English but chose to use a broken style of English at first. “American, yes?”

  Jackie nodded.

  “Join you?”

  This time Jackie responded, “If you must.”

  “Are you here on holiday?” he asked.

  “No. I’m studying for a year in Paris. My college has a program that includes study abroad during the third year of school.” Jackie took one look at his pad and the leather pouch that held his drawing equipment and said, “I guess you must be the local artist.”

  “Well, I don’t know about the local part, but yes, I am an artist,” François responded.

  He was apparently familiar with the café, as he called the waiter by name. He ordered two glasses of wine and some cheese with a loaf of French bread. Jackie understood what he had ordered and was surprised by his action. However, she hadn’t eaten lunch and wanted to learn more about this attractive Frenchman.

  The waiter returned in a few minutes with a tray containing the wine, cheese, and warm bread.

  “What is this?” Jackie asked.

  “I thought you might like some refreshment. You are so skinny. You must not eat very much.”

  Almost automatically, Jackie said, “I’m too fat.”

  Nothing was further from the truth, as François knew from his first glance at her. If anything, Jackie could have used a few pounds. They began to eat the bread and cheese as they questioned each other about their lives. Jackie became more interested as François described his life in Paris. Gradually it became evident that he did, in fact, have a firm command of English. On the other hand, Jackie did not tip her hand as to her understanding of French.

  “Where are you staying while in Paris?” he asked.

  “I share an apartment around the corner at Twelve rue Royal. I live there with my roommate from Smith.”

  “Smith? Is that the name of your school?” François asked.

  “Yes. It is in Massachusetts.”

  “That is in your New England, yes?”

  “That’s right. It’s a girls’ school. We have about twenty-five hundred students attending the undergraduate school.”

  “You mean there are no male students, just girls?”

  “That’s right. Except for a few graduate students, it is all girls.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” was his response. “Why did you choose to have a roommate?” François inquired.

  “Well, my parents didn’t want me to live alone, so Barb is my roommate. She’s a lot of fun, and we do everything together.”

  “Did you say ‘everything’?”

  “Well, not quite everything,” Jackie answered.

  As they finished their repast, it was clear there was an instant attraction between them. “Would you like to see my flat? You could see some of my drawings,” François asked. Normally Jackie wouldn’t have been so quick to say yes, but she liked François and was interested in seeing his drawings.

  “Sure. Is it far from here?”

  “It’s two stops on the Métro. Have you used it?”

  “Yes, Barb drags me all over Paris on it,” Jackie replied.

  François paid the waiter, and they walked to the Métro entrance. The two stops passed quickly, and they emerged from the subway into the muted light of an early spring afternoon. The weather was typical for that time of year, not great but OK. François led the way to his flat. He bounded up the stairs two at a time and opened the door for Jackie. The doorway led into a vestibule and to the stairs. His flat was on the third floor of this older row home that was of an earlier age. It was easy to see the quality of this home and the detail in the design. Each flat had fireplaces in the living room, den, and bedroom. The woodwork was superb, and the hardwood floors were beautiful. The ceilings were ornate, and the doors were solid wood.

  “Do you live alone?” Jackie asked.

  “Yes. I like to be able to come and go as I please. I often work at odd hours. Generally, I draw during the best light of day, but sometimes I add finishing touches at night by the fireplace light,” François explained.

  “I know what you mean; the one thing about having a roommate is that you must think of what they are doing before you plan something in your apartment.”

  François had his studio in a room off the living room. Jackie walked toward the partially open door to the studio and peered into the room. There was a skylight that poured light into the room, and Jackie could see scores of drawings along the walls. A sofa was in the center of the room with some assorted furniture surrounding it. An easel that held a partially completed drawing was in front of the sofa. It was immediately apparent: François sketched old buildings and nude girls. It appeared that most of the nudes had been drawn on the sofa in the room.

  François saw Jackie looking into the room and said, “Please go in and look at my work.”

  “Are you sure?” Jackie asked.

  “Go, go.”

  Jackie opened the door and walked into his studio. She was surprised by the quality of his work. He drew in a style called photo realism. His drawings looked like photographs, and his use of shading gave many of them a three-dimensional quality. He used charcoal and pencils. Only one of his sketches was done in color.

  François asked, “Can I get you something?”

  “Yes, a bottle of water would be fine.”

  He went to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of spring water.

  “Your drawings are so real. I see you don’t use much color.”

  “I use color only when I am happy with my work,” he responded.

  The number of nude women François had drawn surprised Jackie. He saw her blush as she examined his nudes. There were at least ten different girls in his drawings. One particular girl must have been special, for he had over a dozen sketches of her. Jackie would not have been surprised if these models had started to talk, they were so lifelike.

  “How long have you been drawing?” Jackie asked.

  “Ever since I can remember. My family always gave me drawing supplies for gifts. I would draw almost anything that caught my attention from the time I attended grammar school,” François responded.

  “Did you have any formal training?”

  “Yes, several artists I met at the Louvre worked with me for
the past two years.”

  Françoise saw that Jackie was embarrassed by some of his drawings, and he tried to make her feel more at ease. “The French do not have the same shyness about nudity as you Americans. Many French girls pose in the nude with no more reluctance than if I took your picture right now with your clothing on.”

  Jackie sat on a small stool and looked at a sketch detailing the front door of Notre Dame. François’s drawing concentrated on the gargoyles that adorned the doorway. He explained, “When this church was built in the thirteenth century, there was still the vestige of pre-Christian superstition in France. The gargoyles were intended to protect the church from evil spirits.”

  Jackie got up and walked to the far wall where a stack of nudes had been placed. The drawings captured every detail and curve of the girls’ bodies. The shading made them look even more real. It didn’t matter whether you looked at the light in their eyes, the curve of their necks, the areolas surrounding their nipples, or their pubic areas; all were depicted with reverence and accuracy.

  Jackie finished looking at the sketches and decided it was time to go back to her apartment. François took her back to 12 rue Royal and said goodbye at the front door of her building. Several weeks passed, and then Jackie found a note from François on her apartment door. The note had his telephone number on it and said, Would you like to go cycling with me on Saturday? I will pick you up Saturday at ten unless I hear from you. Jackie thought he was a bit overconfident, but decided to take him up on his offer.

  At a little after ten Saturday morning, there was a knock at their apartment door. Jackie was still in the bathroom, so Barbara answered the door. François introduced himself, and Barb asked him to come in and wait for Jackie. Although Jackie was actually ready, she had decided to keep him waiting for a few minutes to give Barb a chance to look him over.

  François asked Barbara, “How do you like Paris?”

  “It’s great. I plan to return some day after I’ve completed college.”

  François thought to himself that Barb was a very attractive blonde, but she was not in the same league as Jackie.

  In about fifteen minutes, Jackie emerged from the bathroom and came over to François. He stood up and asked Jackie, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure,” she answered. “I’ll see you tonight, Barb.”

  They went to the door and François turned to Barb and said, “Au revoir. It was nice meeting you.” François had his car parked in front of Jackie’s flat with two bicycles strapped to the top. They got into the car and took off for the country. François’s driving was like all the other French that Jackie had encountered. They all seemed to drive like a bat out of hell.

  Jackie asked, “Where are we going riding?”

  “I thought we would get away from Paris and drive north to the countryside. The small French towns are so picturesque.”

  Jackie had not been outside of Paris, and she was glad he had chosen the country for their cycling. She expected that small towns would be very different from Paris, and the change was a welcome one for her.

  It was about eleven thirty when François pulled the car into a rest area near the town of Clermont. He removed the bicycles from the roof of the car and strapped a lunch basket and his sketchpad on the back of his cycle. They started down the small country lane. As they rode down the two-lane path, François asked, “Do you ride in the States?”

  “Sometimes. I usually go to the spa for my exercise,” Jackie said.

  François wanted to flatter her and said, “It shows. You have the most perfect figure that I have ever seen.”

  Jackie was a little embarrassed by his comment, but she quickly said, “I’ll take that as a compliment, given all the beautiful girls you have seen.”

  They continued down the road for about an hour before they stopped in a meadow for lunch. François spread a blanket on the grass and laid out the lunch he’d prepared. There was an assortment of meats and cheese as well as the ever-present French bread. He had also brought some wine and bottled water. They spent half an hour eating their lunch and talking about their lives.

  After lunch, François asked Jackie if he could sketch her lying on the blanket. Given the beautiful women he was accustomed to using for models, Jackie was flattered by his request. “Sure,” she answered. “I would like to pose for you, as long as I can keep my clothing on.”

  “Please lie on your side. I will cover the basket with part of the blanket and make a rest for your head. I want you to be comfortable. It will take me about an hour to complete the essentials. I will fill in the details later at my studio.”

  Jackie got comfortable and François began to sketch her beautiful face.

  About an hour had passed when François announced, “I have enough for now. We should start back.”

  It was four o’clock when they arrived at the car. François fastened the bicycles on the roof, and they began the drive back to Paris.

  When they arrived at François’s flat, it was getting dark.

  “How about going to dinner with me,” he asked.

  “Barb is expecting me home early,” replied Jackie.

  But François persisted, saying, “Why don’t you call her and tell her we are having dinner together.”

  “I need to freshen up after our ride.”

  “You can use the bath, and my sister has some clothing in the apartment that should fit you.”

  “Are you sure? Don’t you think your sister would mind a stranger using her clothing?”

  “Not at all,” François insisted.

  Jackie used the phone in François’s studio so she would have a little privacy. “Barb, guess what? He asked me to dinner. What do you think I should do?”

  “What will you wear?” Barb asked. “You must be a mess after the bike ride.”

  “He offered to let me use his bath and borrow some clothing of his sister’s he has here.”

  Barb was a little surprised, but she said, “Whatever you think is best. You did say you liked him. This will give you a chance to get to know him better.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Jackie told Barb.

  “Yes, if the sun doesn’t come up too early!”

  “You’re bad. I will not spend the night, at least not on the first date. See you.” They said goodbye and hung up.

  As Jackie came out of the studio, François greeted her with two of his sister’s dresses. “Take your pick. You will look sensational in either one. In fact, you would look great in anything.”

  Jackie chose a beige dress with a scooped neck and a skirt that came just above the knee. He showed her the tub and gave her some fresh towels. The first thing Jackie noticed was the bidet. She did not comment as François walked to the tub and began drawing her bath water. She hung the dress on a hook fastened to the wall and led François to the bathroom door. It was as if he was hoping for an invitation to help her take a bath. She was not about to make such an offer.

  She added some bath salts and finished filling the tub. She wondered why he had all those great-smelling bath salts. Could it be that she was not the first female guest to use his tub? Jackie had soaked about half an hour when she again noticed the bidet. She recalled overhearing stories her grandfather had told about this appliance. During World War I, the American doughboys were surprised to see the French prostitutes wash themselves on the bidet after servicing them. Many of the American soldiers came from farms where they didn’t even have inside plumbing much less a bidet. The sight of a naked woman mounted on this thing washing her private parts was unexpected to say the least. The rumor was that the bidet not only fulfilled a practical need but also gave the women pleasure as well.

  Jackie decided that, although she was not in need of any further cleaning, she would give it a try to see if the rumor was true. She got out of the tub and walked over to the bidet. Jackie tried the spigots
so she would know how it operated. She mounted it and turned on the water. To her delight, the feeling of the water gushing into her was titillating. She knew why this bathroom fixture was so popular in Europe. She wondered why this wasn’t more popular with American women. François heard the sound of Jackie using the bidet, and he couldn’t help but picture her sitting on it. This thought stayed with him for some time.

  It took Jackie another half an hour to complete her bath. She decided not to wear her soiled underwear and put her panties and bra in her purse. Jackie often went without a bra, but she normally wore small bikini panties.

  When she came out of the bathroom, François took one look at her and said, “You look fantastic. My sister, Babette, never filled out that dress the way you do!”

  Jackie began to blush and said, “You better be careful. I will tell her what you said.”

  François took some clean clothing from his bedroom and went into the bathroom. Unlike Jackie, François took only twenty minutes to bathe and get dressed. While he was in the bathroom, Jackie read some of his magazines about French artists. When François came out of the bathroom and saw her reading the books, which were in French, he said, “I thought you did not understand French.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t want you to know everything about me at once.”

  By the time they arrived at the restaurant, it was about eight o’clock. That was a perfect time to begin dinner in Paris. Since François now knew that Jackie understood his language, she ordered her menu in French. Dinner lasted two hours, and when they finished François asked if she wanted to take a cab or walk in the cool spring air.

  “Let’s walk,” Jackie suggested.

  “That’s fine,” he agreed. François paid the waiter, and they were on their way. When they got to his flat, François said, “Would you like a night cap?” By this time, Jackie was relaxed with François. She decided to take him up on his offer.

  They climbed the two flights of stairs, and François opened the door for Jackie.

  She looked around and said, “Where is my portrait?”