One Week in Paris

by Roya Carmen

“She seems to like Oscar,” Lucie says. “I thought you and Oscar were together. Is not the case?”

  “It is not the case,” I tell her. “We’re friends.”

  “Oh, well, Sophie will probably have him in her bed tonight.”

  Oh no, she won’t. I’m not taking my eyes off them.

  He’s mine.

  The wine is really getting to my head. I wonder if French wine is stronger. Or perhaps it’s just the fact that I’ve been drinking non-stop since I first stepped into this place. I was a little nervous about the plan, and wine always eases my nerves.

  Antoine is switching up the music on his old vinyl record player. He’s just put on The Beatles, and I’m suddenly fascinated by his record collection. I love old music, and anything vintage. I flip through the records; lots of sixties and seventies music, and lots of folk. I’m amused when I spot Johnny Cash. Antoine doesn’t seem like the type who would listen to Johnny Cash.

  Next thing you know, I’ve lost sight of Mark and Nicole, and also Oscar and Sophie. Mom, Antoine and Lucie are sitting on the sofa, chatting as they sip from tiny glasses of liqueur. I wonder how many calories we’ve all consumed tonight. I wonder how much weight I’ve just gained. I shake my head — I have more pressing matters tonight. I need to find Mark and Nicole and catch them in the act. I set up the camera on my iPhone, ready for action. I feel like a private detective.

  The first place I venture to is the terrace. It’s freezing out here, and empty, of course. Then I make my way to the kitchen — it’s a mess, no one there. I then endeavor into the bedrooms. I feel a little creepy now, but what must be done must be done. The bedrooms are sparse and empty. I linger a little longer than necessary in Antoine’s room, and study his belongings and the photos on his dresser. Lots of books and art. An English conversation audio CD, an old guitar, and lots of photos of his daughters.

  Feeling like a total snoop, I quickly exit his room and head to the washroom.

  I do my business while I’m there. The roll of toilet paper has run out and there’s not another roll in sight. I’m sequestered in the toilet room with my panties around my legs, just below my knees. I scowl as I make the very inelegant trek to the cabinet under the sink in the adjoining room. Thankfully, there are three rolls in there. As I install the new roll, I hear a noise coming from behind the wall. I listen carefully, but can’t quite hear. It’s clearly people talking, voices muffled.

  I realize there’s another room back there, and there are people in it. I quickly hike my undies back up and wash my hands. As soon as I step out, I walk to the back of the hall, and discover a very small, dark room which appears to be a library/den area. I’m assaulted by the scent of old books… it’s actually quite pleasant.

  Quiet as a mouse, I walk slowly down the narrow book-lined hall, iPhone in hand. It’s cool and quite dark in here. “This is the moment of truth, Mark,” I mouth. “I’ve got you now.”

  19

  MY STOMACH DOES a nose dive when I round the corner. It’s not Mark and Nicole. It’s Oscar and Sophie. He’s sitting on the edge of the desk, and she’s all over him like a cheap tablecloth, the skirt of her dress hiked up. Her back is to me, but his face is in my line of sight. And I don’t like what I see. His eyes are closed, and a smile traces his lips.

  You would think that I would want to get out of there as fast as I can. But I can’t move. I want to watch them. Who knew I was a voyeur? They say that you should learn something new about yourself every day. Well today’s new tidbit: I like watching.

  The sight of them makes me extremely jealous, but also turns me on. Her mouth is pressed against his neck, and his hand is on her ass.

  “You like that?” she says, her voice as smooth as silk.

  He moans softly.

  I can’t quite see what she’s doing exactly. I bite my lip, watching.

  I am such a creep.

  “You like when I pet your cock, Oscar?” she asks.

  Holy shit. She’s giving him a hand job, and I’m standing here, watching. I want her to keep at it. I want to see him come. Strangely enough, I’m very aroused.

  He groans a little more loudly, and when he opens his eyes, I want to run, but I stand frozen. I spot the shock in his eyes, but he remains still. He doesn’t move, enjoying the sight of me there, watching them. I keep watching, and Sophie keeps stroking.

  “You are so fucking hard,” she says. “So big.”

  A smile traces his lips, and mine also.

  This is so messed up.

  “Sophie,” a voice calls out from the hall, and they quickly scamper. She jumps off him, and he struggles to do up his fly. I turn to leave and smack right into Antoine.

  “Sorry,” he offers, and calls out Sophie’s name again. Next, he’s saying something in French I don’t understand. I understand French only if it’s spoken very slowly and clearly.

  I’m walking down the narrow hall back to the living area when Oscar grabs a hold of my arm. He pulls me to him. “Did you enjoy that?” he whispers against the lobe of my ear. “I didn’t know you liked watching.”

  I smile, enjoying the feel of him against me, the heat of his hot breath on my skin, his familiar scent. “I didn’t know either.”

  He wraps an arm around my waist and presses me closer against him, so close, I can feel his hard-on. “I’m surprised you weren’t jealous.”

  “I was. I am,” I confess. “I don’t want you to be with her.”

  He hikes his hand up the skirt of my dress. “You want your cake and you want to eat it too.”

  “Yeah. I’m greedy that way.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you touch her pussy?” I ask, driven by curiosity or… jealousy, possibly both.

  He smiles. “No.”

  His hand travels between my thighs and reaches my sweet spot. “You’re turned on.”

  My voice is small when I reply feebly, “Yes…”

  “I love arousing you.”

  “Were you going to fuck her?” I ask. I want to know.

  “I’m not sure,” he admits. “It felt so good… but—”

  “But what?”

  “I was thinking about you, and when I opened my eyes, there you were, watching.” He presses his mouth against my collarbone. “It was so fucking hot.”

  “Take me to the washroom,” I beg.

  He doesn’t hesitate for a second. He grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall to the washroom. He locks the door as soon as we’re in.

  He hikes me up on top of the wide sink counter. I spread my legs for him, and it takes me about three seconds to pull him out of his pants. He bites my bottom lip as he peels off my panties. They’re left dangling on my left ankle. He quickly slips on a condom and I wrap my legs around him. I throw my head back against the mirror as he sinks inside me. I grip the cold edge of the counter as he pushes into me hard.

  He pulls my hair. “I want to make you come so hard,” he breathes. “I want to hear you scream.”

  “Yes…” I’m breathless, lost in the sensation of him. “Yes…” I feel myself climbing slowly to the edge. There is no one here but the two of us. I get completely lost in him.

  When it hits me, a series of moans escape me. And when he gets off too, he muffles his loud groans into my shoulder.

  Two minutes, if that. That’s how long it takes to get off with Oscar. I’m glad those two minutes were mine, and not Sophie’s. “You’re mine,” I tell him.

  “Am I?” he says. “Are we exclusive now?”

  “Uh….” I hesitate, completely caught off guard.

  “If we’re not, I’m seeing Sophie this week.”

  “Asshole,” I sneer. “You’re still inside me, you dick.”

  He pulls out of me, and turns from me, peels off his rubber. This moment is so not sexy. “This was a mistake,” I tell him. I’m pissed, like I haven’t been in a very, very long time.

  He turns back to me, eyes dark. “Was it?”

  “We should just call this whole thing
off,” I say. “You do whatever the heck you want with Sophie, and I’ll go out with Matt.”

  Anger slowly traces the curves of his features. “Oh, so you want to fuck your brother now? He’s your prince charming, right? He used to be your worst enemy, and now you’re ready to marry the jerk. Well, he is what every woman wants, isn’t he? He has the money, the good job, the nice suits. Maybe you’ll be willing to commit to him. He’s good enough. But me, I’m just a barista. Why waste your time on me? I’m just for fun, aren’t I?”

  “No…” I’m at a loss for words. He’s rendered me completely speechless. I had no idea he felt that way.

  A knock on the door startles us. “Oh crap…” I whisper. Whoever it is, will see that we’ve been naughty. God, I hope it’s not Antoine. I quickly go through all the people at the party. Corrie… couldn’t care less. Mom… she would give me a little speech about inappropriate behavior but I’d survive. Mark… slightly embarrassing, but really don’t care what he thinks. Antoine… total shame. Lucie, mildly embarrassing. Nicole… wouldn’t care either. Sophie… that would be fantastic.

  When Oscar opens the door, Lucie shoots us an impish smile. She’s not stupid. She knows what we’ve been up to. I walk out of the washroom, my head down in shame. Thank God, it wasn’t Antoine.

  Corrie scurries up to me. “Where were you?” she asks. “Mark and Nicole are missing,” she whispers.

  “I know… I was just looking for them.”

  It’s getting late, and everyone seems a little deflated. Even the beautiful Sophie is yawning. “I wonder what’s keeping Mark so long,” Mom says. “He said he was running out to the store for a pack of gum.”

  Lamest excuse ever. No one else seems to have noticed that Nicole is missing too. The intercom buzzes. “Speak of the devil,” Mom says, cheerful. “That’s probably Mark.”

  Sure enough, it’s Mark. And not five minutes later, Nicole comes back, and tells everyone she had a little too much to drink and needed some air.

  I scurry up to her as soon as I get the chance. “Where were you?” I ask quietly.

  She looks completely disheveled. “Um.. how do you say? ‘Making out’ in the park with Mark,” she tells me with a mischievous smile.

  “You were supposed to do that here,” I scold her. “So I could take a picture.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “Mark would never… not here. Men like him are not stupid, Kayla. We went to the park. I texted you. Three times. You did not get my texts?”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket, and sure enough, it’s dead.

  Great.

  Oscar is still chatting up Sophie. I want to throw one of Antoine’s fancy candle holders at their heads. But I’m sure he would not appreciate me assaulting his daughter. “Well, we should probably get going,” I announce loudly. “It’s getting late and we wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.”

  Hugs all around, goodbyes and thank-yous. Sophie seems sad to let Oscar go. And Antoine appears downright devastated to see my mother leave. All in all, it was a nice evening with locals in Paris. I just wished I could have caught Mark in the act. And I also wish Sophie were a lesbian.

  But as the Rolling Stones song goes, You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you find, you get what you need.

  20

  I’M ONLY HALF AWAKE when Mom shows up at my door. I’m surprised to see her. She’s bushy tailed and bright eyed. I, on the other hand, want to crawl back in bed and sleep. I have a massive headache, the product of too much wine the night before.

  She’s holding two linen bags full of food. “I’ve come to make you breakfast,” she announces. “Just like old times.”

  I’m not very hungry but I still shoot her a tight smile, feigning excitement. “Great, Mom. Come in.”

  It breaks my heart… she’s so happy. She has no clue what’s coming her way. I want to tell her about Nicole and Mark, but I know she’d refuse to believe me. I know my pig-headed Mom — she’ll have to see it with her own eyes. But we’re running out of time.

  “Ok, I’ll go get dressed,” I tell her. “And I’ll get Oscar and Corrie up too.” I dash to my bedroom and scour for my phone. When I finally find it, I quickly write a message to Matt.

  Last night was a fail. Nicole did manage to hook him, but no one was there to witness it. What do we do now?

  As I slip on my clothes for the day; black leggings, a long pink tunic and scarf, and purple socks, I keep checking my phone for his response. About a minute later, my phone dings.

  Nicole will try to get him out today.

  I wonder about Nicole’s motives. What’s her deal? Is she in love with Matt? Does she just enjoy fucking with old foreign men? Doesn’t she have a job?

  Doesn’t Nicole have anything better to do with her time?

  —

  Lol! Nicole is a journalist for a fashion blog, and works from home. She loves men, and she also loves married men.

  —

  She sounds like quite the prize. Are you two an item?

  —

  Oh, no. We’ve been together before, but not anymore.

  I’m not sure I believe him. I know he’s interested in me, and of course, if he is, there’s no way he’d tell me he’s sleeping with some French floozie.

  Okay, keep me up to date. I need to plan accordingly with my mom.

  —

  Sure thing.

  Mom is busy in the small kitchen, poaching some eggs for her famous eggs Benedict. She’s made herself quite at home. I reach into the refrigerator for some orange juice. “Did you have a good time at Antoine’s, last night?”

  She smiles coyly. “I did. He’s such a nice man.”

  “He is,” I agree. “And pretty easy on the eyes too.”

  She blushes. “Yes, he is quite the looker. I bet he has dozens of women waiting in line.”

  I laugh. “I didn’t see any last night.”

  “Do you mind setting the table?” she asks. “I have my hands full.”

  “Sure,” I say. “So that Nicole was pretty nice, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” she says absentmindedly. “And beautiful too. Whose friend was she again?”

  I pull the whimsical blue plates from the cabinet. “Uh… mine.”

  “You barely spoke a word to her,” she points out.

  “Well, she was kind of busy, chatting up Mark.”

  She shoots me a tight smile, as if she knows what I’m getting at. “Well, you know Mark. He’s so charming. He gets along with everyone.”

  “Especially those with nice asses,” I mumble under my breath.

  “What was that?” she asks with a cocked brow.

  “Uh… I said, uh… ‘it’s good that he’s so nice’”.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Not as nice as Antoine, though.”

  She blushes again, and Oscar makes his appearance; disheveled hair, inside out t-shirt, wrinkled boxers — he’s a glorious mess.

  “Good morning, Oscar,” Mom cheers.

  “Put some pants on,” I scold. “My mother’s here.”

  He mumbles something under his breath and turns on his heel.

  “So you and Matt,” Mom says. “Is there something going on between you? I couldn’t believe when he told us he took you to dinner at the Eiffel tower. So romantic…”

  I smile at the memory. “He did… it was nice. He’s changed.”

  She lights up. “I believe it. He seems like a nice young man. Very polite. Can you imagine if you and him…”

  “Wouldn’t that be incest?” I point out.

  She laughs. “Not quite.”

  Corrie trudges in, looking as hungover as I am. She was knocking down the wine last night too— I’m sure she feels even worse than I do. “Good morning,” she moans. “I want to die.”

  We both laugh. “Are you hungry at all?” Mom asks.

  Corrie shakes her head.

  “Have a little something,” Mom insists. “It will make you feel better.”
/>
  “I’ve got something planned today,” Mom tells us as we all sit down to eat. “Antoine invited us for a stroll in his neighborhood,” she tells us. “We were planning to head there anyway. It’ll be even better with him as a guide. He says he can show us all the little local hotspots, places tourists don’t know about.”

  A mischievous smile stretches Corrie’s lips. “Uh huh. You and Antoine have become quite the close friends, haven’t you,” she teases.

  Mom blushes… yet again. Seriously, she’s like a junior high school girl with a crush, all flushed and giddy. It’s actually super cute. She seems to have completely forgotten that she’s getting married to someone else tomorrow. “He is very nice and welcoming,” she tells Corrie.

  “He certainly seems smitten with you,” Corrie points out.

  Mom waves a hand in the air as she serves us our eggs Benny. “Oh, I don’t know about that. He’s probably this friendly with everyone.”

  Corrie shakes her head. “Well, he hasn’t given me a second look,” she says. “And not to toot my own horn, but I’m hot.”

  Mom laughs. “Well, that makes one of us. I’m afraid I’m past those days.”

  “No way,” Corrie says. “You’re a knockout! Look at you. You’re a total MILF.”

  Mom cocks a brow in confusion. “A what?”

  “A MILF,” Oscar says. “A mother I’d like to um... you know…” he falters. “I mean, not me. I mean, you’re Kayla’s mom. Not that you’re not—”

  I bury my head in my hands. “Jesus, Oscar. It’s too early in the morning for you to talk.”

  He checks his phone. “Okay, I’ll shut the hell up now.”

  “So who’s all going?” Mom asks.

  Corrie picks at her food like a fussy kid. “I’m going to stay back. I feel like shit. I’m going to read and take a nap.”

  “Oh… okay,” Mom says, seemingly disappointed.

  Oscar lifts his gaze from his phone. “I’m out too. Sophie and I have plans.”

  Mom seems surprised. “Oh… do you?”