by Roya Carmen
Nicole and I wander around, down the hall, where we find a washroom and a secluded library. A large imposing desk dominates the room. The walls are lined with classic books, all of them French, or so it seems. “This is perfect,” I say to Nicole.
“I don’t know,” she says. “We might be better upstairs. I think that is where the bedrooms are.”
“True,” I agree as I study her; her long dark hair, false lashes, the slimming black dress with a long slit along the side showing off her perfectly toned legs and black peep-toe stilettos — the woman is sex-on-heels. I’ve heard Parisian women have great legs because they walk everywhere. If she can’t seduce Mark, nobody can.
“I will let Mark decide,” she tells me.
“So how will all this go down?” I ask, curious.
She cocks a brow in confusion.
“I mean… how will you do it? How will everything happen?”
“Oh, well, I will text him a little later and ask him to meet me.”
“Sounds easy.”
She smiles. “Oh, it is. Men are such horny bastards, they only think with their penises. You can make them do anything if you promise them sex.”
Wow. I don’t know her ex-husband or her father, but they certainly have done a number on her. She’s so jaded and cynical. I feel bad for her, and I also feel bad for mixing her up in all this. Yet, she seems to get some sick kind of pleasure from it.
We head back to the main lounge. Nicole is wearing a Cheshire cat smile. I, on the other hand, probably look terrified. People have already gathered in small groups. Liqueurs and alcohol are being passed around. I try a chocolate flavored one on ice — it’s delicious, and tastes very much like Baileys Irish Cream. My feet are starting to kill me a little, and I decide to take a seat next to Sarah and her friend, on the sleek grey leather sectional.
I catch Oscar standing at the opposite end of the room, checking me out. Sophie is in conversation with a tall man, who is clearly admiring her cleavage — she seems oblivious. Oscar whips out his phone again and taps away.
My phone dings.
Is this place fantastic or what?
—
It is.
—
You must love it. Everything is orange.
I smile. My heart warms at the thought of him knowing my favorite color. No one knows me like Oscar.
How are you and Sophie getting along? Will you be sleeping with her tonight?
—
Wow, look who’s all curious and nosy, all of a sudden. : )
—
I just wanna know.
—
Well, are you sleeping with douchebag tonight?
—
NOOOO!!! Who do you think I am? A tramp?
I glance up from my phone. He’s smiling as he taps away.
Oh, don’t act so innocent. I know how you love a nice fuck. I’ve been in your bed, Bernie.
—
Don’t call me that. Yes, I like sex. Doesn’t mean I’m about to jump in just anyone’s bed.
—
Cross one leg over the other and hike up your dress a little for me.
I smile and oblige. He shoots me a mischievous grin… he likes what he sees. My phone pings again.
Hot!
I enjoy a sip of my liqueur, and try to ignore him. But… I just can’t.
Check out the bartender, he writes.
I look over at the bar. The bartender is chatting with my mom’s friend. He’s short and slim and has a head of silver hair, slicked back, and a salt and pepper beard. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows. There’s a tattoo peeking out, but I can’t quite make it out.
His name is Fabien. He’s married. He has three beautiful girls, all in high school.
For a second, I think he knows this guy, but then I quickly realize this is just another one of his silly stories. I smile up at him.
He’s happily married but he has a secret.
I smile. Yeah, what is that?
When he’s not bartending, he likes to dress up in his wife’s lingerie and high heels. She favors fishnet stockings, really slutty get-ups, and black stiletto pumps.
I laugh out loud. My sister and her friend stop mid-conversation and turn to me.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Funny meme,” I explain.
He likes to take mirror selfies. He prints them on his printer. They’re costing him a small fortune in ink cartridges but they’re worth it. He keeps an album in a locked case under their bed. When no one is around, he flips through it, and jacks off.
I laugh. You are sick. You know that? Now I won’t be able to go to the bar without imagining him in a silly black teddy and garter and stockings. You’ve ruined the bartender for me!
Oscar looks pretty happy with himself. Seriously, if his smile were any bigger, his face would split in two. I wonder if Sophie would find this as funny as I do. Or maybe it’s just me — I’m easily amused.
Last week, his youngest daughter, Anette, found the album. She was looking for hidden birthday presents, and she became very intrigued by this locked case. She pried it open with the help of her boyfriend when her parents were out to dinner. She still hasn’t confronted him… she can barely look at him now. He has no clue she knows, which is why he’s all happy and carefree now. As you can imagine, Anette was traumatized and will need serious therapy.
“Sorry, I got caught up in a chat with Gordon,” Matt says as he sits next to me. He glances at my empty glass. “Can I get you anything from the bar?”
I smile. “Sure, I’ll have a glass of red. Shiraz, if they have it.”
Oscar puts his phone away and turns to Sophie. She smiles up at him. God, they do make a lovely couple. I would even dare say, a sexy couple. I could imagine them in a classy porno. Is there such a thing as classy porn?
I watch Matt at the bar, speaking to ‘Fabien’. I can’t help but smile. Matt towers over the short man and is being his usual very charming self.
Mom’s friend, Natalie, takes a seat next to us. “Hello, girls. How have you been?”
Sarah and I both smile. “Great,” Sarah says. “How about you, Natalie?”
“Great,” she says as her gaze skims over the both of us. “Wow. You two girls have both turned into such beautiful women,” she tells us, in awe. “The transformation in the both of you is astonishing, especially…” Her words trail off as she pulls her gaze from me. She doesn’t need to finish that sentence. I know she meant me.
“Uh… what a lovely waiter, at the bar,” she goes on, in an obvious attempt to quickly change the subject. “His name is Fabien, and he has three daughters.”
My jaw drops. “That’s nice,” I say, stifling a grin.
“He speaks lovely English,” she adds, “And is quite charming,” she adds with a wink.
“So how is your job going?” she asks Sarah. I take the opportunity to quickly text Oscar.
Guess what?! The barkeep’s name is Fabien, and he has three daughters!
I watch him as he digs his phone out of his pocket, Sophie’s arm awkwardly wrapped around his waist.
He smiles and taps away. I’m shocked by how excited I am about this. I’m like a kid at a scavenger hunt.
What can I say? I have a gift, he replies.
I look over at the barkeep. Well, the guy IS wearing a name tag.
Oh no, you’re on to me. But I swear, I didn’t speak to him. The rest is all my amazing psychic abilities.
Yes, you are amazing, I write. That is sarcasm, btw.
—
Quickie in the washroom again?
—
I laugh. Noooooooo!
—
Okay, that’s a no. Fair enough.
25
“SORRY, IT TOOK ME SO LONG,” Matt says as he hands me my glass of wine. “I was chatting with the guy at the bar. Nice guy.”
A goofy smile spreads across my lips — I just cannot control myself.
“What’ so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. It must be the alcohol.”
He winks at me. “Well, I’d like you a little tipsy, but not too drunk.”
I smile and gulp down a big sip of my wine. It’s delicious and I need it. As much fun as I’m having with Oscar, I haven’t forgotten about the plan for tonight. The thought of it makes me sick. I hope Mom doesn’t hate me.
I decide to text Nicole. She’s at the far end of the room, chatting with one of Mark’s friends.
When is it happening?
She fishes her cell out of her clutch and apologizes to the man. I wait impatiently as she taps away.
We have a problem. He does not want to get frisky here. He says it is too risky. He wants to meet tomorrow.
—
A day before his wedding?!
What a sleaze. He absolutely must be stopped.
What will we do now? Nicole asks.
Let me think.
I spot Corrie chatting with Mark. She’s tipsy. I’ve been meaning to keep an eye on her. She always drinks too much. She’s so tiny, it’s easy for her to overdo it. The last thing I need tonight is my best friend making a scene. We want a scene all right, but not that one. Oddly enough, she seems to be getting on famously with Mark. Doesn’t surprise me — Corrie does get a little flirty and snarky when she drinks.
I need to get there. Now. As I quickly make my way to her, an idea hits me, and it’s perfect.
“Hi Mark, lovely room,” I say quickly as I grab Corrie’s arm. “Do you mind if I steal her for a second?”
He does seem to mind, but I obviously don’t give two shits.
“I’m having such a great time,” Corrie tells me. “Paris is amazing.”
I smile as I drag her to the library. “Yes, it is.”
“So, is Oscar sleeping with the French girl?”
“Not yet,” I tell her.
“How is the plan going?” she asks in hushed tones, despite the fact that we are completely alone in the library.
“Well, actually, speaking of that. I need your help, Corrie.”
Her blue eyes are curious. “What? What can I do? I wanna play.”
“Well, Nicole has tried to lure him upstairs, like we discussed, but he won’t go for it. He says it’s too risky.”
She settles her small rear in one of the arm chairs. “The man’s not stupid.”
I take a seat in the other matching chair. “He needs more incentive.”
She swirls her glass of red, and watches it with fascination. “What do you mean?”
“He needs you.”
She lifts her gaze to mine skeptically. “I’m not half bad looking, Kayla, but that Nicole is way hotter than me. And younger. And French. If she can’t close the deal, I doubt I’d be able to.”
“No, he needs the both of you,” I clarify with an impish grin.
Her eyes grow wide. “A threesome?”
I nod quietly.
She grins widely. “Well, I haven’t done that sort of thing since college, but when in Paris…”
I laugh. “Well, you wouldn’t have to actually go through with it—”
“So, how do we do this?”
“Well, you and Nicole approach him together, and flirt a little, hint at it, and one of you suggests going upstairs.”
She sits up straighter. “This is crazy.”
“It is,” I agree. “But crazy is what we need right now. Once you get into the action, you quietly step away as Nicole keeps going and you text me.”
She bounces off her seat. “I’m on it. I’ll go find Nicole.”
She’s long gone, but I remain glued to my seat. I really, really don’t want to do this. But I need to. I need to get out there sooner than later, and get my mom up to that bedroom. My pulse races at the thought of what’s about to go down.
I lean back in the oversized arm chair and study the walls of books around me. The room is dark, all mahogany and red wine draperies. I suddenly feel like smoking a cigar, not that I’ve ever smoked one. But it would seem the place for it. I twirl my empty wine glass — I need more. I’m not buzzed enough to deal with what I’m about to deal with. I decide to stay sequestered in here for a while. I have no desire to see Oscar and his perfect date make googly eyes at each other.
My phone pings, and my heart practically leaps out of my ribcage. Already? They couldn’t have possibly moved that fast.
I dig my phone out of my pretty beaded clutch — it’s Oscar.
Where are you?
—
I smile. Where are you?
—
Are we playing hide and seek?
—
We should. It sounds fun.
—
Are you still in the suite?
—
Yes… my feet are up. I need a refill on my wine.
—
Snap a photo of those sexy shoes for me, will ya?
I grin like an imbecile, and do as requested. It’s so dark in here, I use the flash. The photo ends up being nothing but my shoes against an indiscernible black background.
The dots dance and I eagerly anticipate his message.
That’s not fair… I see nothing but the shoes. It doesn’t help at all.
—
The place is not that big. Come and look for me. I’m upstairs, I lie, sending him on a goose chase.
I smile as I lean back in the chair, and study the coffered ceiling. I work out a plan to deal with Mom after it all goes down. I’ll need a good plan. What makes Mom happy? Shopping… books… food…movies.
I’m suddenly filled with inspiration. I pull my feet off the desk and rummage through the drawers for a notepad and pen. As soon as I find what I’m looking for, I scribble away.
shopping (not sure where exactly)
Movie
Books (Shakespeare & Company)
Bateaux-Mouches
Chocolate (lots of chocolates and those macarons she likes)
Wine (lots of red wine)
My phone pings again.
You are not upstairs, Oscar writes.
Another ping. It’s from Corrie.
We have been flirting like crazy. That Nicole is GOOD!!!! She’s all over him. I think Mark has a huge hard-on.
I smile and wince. Corrie has the keen ability to make me smile and wince at the same time.
Ewww… spare me the details, please. What is my mom doing?
—
She’s chatting with her friends, completely oblivious. She will definitely need a nudge. We’ve just refilled our glasses, and Mark is a little tipsy… losing his inhibitions.
—
Good work… keep at it, my little worker bee.
—
Yep… gotta go. Back to the shameless slutty flirting.
I reply to Oscar, Nope. I’m not upstairs. Come and find me.
I stand, fold my list in four, and tuck it into my clutch. I leave my empty glass on the desk and walk over to the loveseat. I sit back comfortably, my stomach unsettled. I play with the lace hem of my pretty sheer pink dress, and study the shiny sheen of the black ribbons on my ankles. It’s dark in here. The soft glow of a Tiffany lamp in the corner and the doorway are the only sources of light.
When Oscar appears at the door, he is a vision. He’s breathtaking in his dark outfit. The curls of his dark hair brush the collar of his shirt, and he has a sexy smile and a sparkle in his eye. He walks slowly over to me, purposely. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. And I don’t take mine off him.
Damn, boy.
“I found you,” he says softly, not in his usual tone. This is something else all together — this is an I want to fuck you, and now tone.
I close my eyes for a second, imagining him inside me. “Come and sit.”
He takes a seat right next to me, his long legs stretched out next to mine. There is a few inches between us. “What are you doing here all alone?”
I smile. “Just thinking… You know me… I can’t take too much noise, too much activity.”
> He settles his glass of scotch on the coffee table and leans back comfortably. “My little introvert.”
We sit in silence for a long beat, studying each other’s features. I could get lost in those dark chocolate eyes of his for days, and those lips…
“Why isn’t Matt looking for you?” he asks.
“Well, he is quite the social butterfly. Most likely chatting up some old ladies. He probably hasn’t even noticed I was gone.”
His gaze lingers on my mouth. “Well, I noticed…”
I’m not sure what he’s trying to do to me, but it’s working. “How come you’re not with Sophie… she’s quite beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he says, his gaze darker than ever.
I shift a little, uneasy. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Cohen?”
He smiles wide. “That depends… is it working?”
I bite my lip. “A little…”
His gaze travels along the swell of my breasts, to the curve of my hips, over my legs, and finally to my shoes. “You look amazing tonight. I’m dying to pull off those ribbons, fling your legs over my shoulders and lick them.”
Baby Jesus… help me.
He inches nearer, slowly closing the distance between us. He presses his large hand on my knee gently. I close my eyes, reveling in the sensation of his touch. His hand travels leisurely down and around my calf. When he gets to the black silk ribbons of my shoe, he gently unties them, letting them fall to the floor. He peels off the shoe and strokes my achy foot, all the while, his gaze fixes on mine.
