A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 05

Samantha found him three hours later, sitting with his back to the cafe, facing towards the Arc de Triomphe, his laptop open in front of him, but not actively in use as he seemed to be reading a newspaper, a glass of wine in one hand looking for all the world like he was sitting in his living room. And for all she knew, he could be. She was beginning to get the feeling that she could drop him in any city in the world and he would be as comfortable as if he was at home and even then she was still not sure where his home was.

She found herself studying him. He was broad across the shoulders as if he lifted weights or maybe swam when he was younger, but his hands were fine boned with long fingers that she had seen were quite dexterous in the way they danced across a keyboard. His waist was narrow and he seemed to have a smooth gait when he walked. His ass was well defined, something she liked, and she suspected that his legs were as well muscled as his arms were, defined, but not overly big. Attractive and unmarred by any tattoos, at least that she had seen thus far. Just looking at him made her happy and only served to highlight her loneliness.

It had been four months since she and Don had broken up. He was not in favor of her move to New York. In fact, he was so opposed to it that he had laid down an ultimatum of it or him. She had chosen the job. It was a step up and she knew that if she stayed in Des Moines, she would likely wind up pregnant and without much of a future ahead of her and she was not ready for that sort of life. She wanted to live, to see the world while she was still young. She wanted to do things and Des Moines was, to her eyes, a very small place to one who had seen what New York had to offer. After spending two hours with Sylvia, she felt, even more, that she had made the right choice, even if she was out of her element at the moment. But four months without a man in her life also meant four months without companionship and she found herself getting excited just thinking about what Alex might look like naked. She found herself smiling. She could certainly do worse than an English speaking Frenchman she thought to herself, hurrying her steps towards the table.

"Ah, bonjour mademoiselle. Ca va?" he asked, turning towards her, standing up, smiling and trying not to undress her with his eyes, despite it being something he very much wanted to do with his hands.

She felt the overwhelming desire to hug him and she gave into it, wrapping her arms around him, trapping one against his side. Alex was surprised, but willing to wrap his free hand around her, pulling her close. She looked up at him and he followed his instinct to kiss her, lightly on the lips, ready to pull away if the kiss was not returned. Samantha was momentarily surprised by the kiss, but rather than pull back, she pushed forward, her tongue seeking his mouth, her hands pulling her closer to him and holding him. For several minutes they stood locked in their embrace, hands gently rubbing bodies, lips sliding against each other, tongues fencing. The kiss ended by mutual agreement, but neither one let go of the other for several minutes more.

"Good afternoon, Alex. Is there another glass of that," she indicated the empty wine glass he had been drinking from which now was sitting empty on the table.

"Another and another and another if you wish it, but I would also suggest some cheese and bread, otherwise we will be in no shape to visit Monique, and I really must see her this evening and I must be sober or somewhat close to it or she will be in such a state in the morning that it might take me a week to calm her down, at least without heavy medication. You know how these French women are. They are almost as hard to manage as a Hollywood starlet just out of Betty Ford."

Samantha laughed and let go of him, pulling out a chair as he got the waiter's attention and ordered up the next round.

"And what would you know about managing Hollywood starlets?" she asked, taking a sip of the wine. It was cool and tasted wonderful. Light and fruity, just like his kisses. She sat and looked at him with heat in her eyes.

"That is a rather long story I am afraid," he said, taking a sip of his own.

"So? You have a date?" she said, licking her lips and running her foot up his leg

"As a matter of a fact, yes, I do," he said with a wry smile. "So, Hollywood starlets. I was working in Los Angeles, oh, three, four years ago I guess, and ran into this guy at a bar." Samantha raised her eyebrows at this. "Well, I don't play tennis, so I am more likely to run into someone in a bar, although the occasional strip joint also has shown promise," he said, drifting off slightly as the waiter brought out a small platter of cheese, some bread, and more wine.

"I can only imagine what you were doing in a strip joint," she said, slightly thrilled by the idea and wondering if she would get the opportunity to join him in one at a future date.

"I was appreciating the art," Alex said with a straight face. Samantha laughed back at his antics.

"And why do I not believe that," she said, her laughter infections as Alex could not hold back anymore and burst out laughing, finding himself more and more attracted to her with each passing moment.

After finishing their afternoon snack, the pair spent what was left of the afternoon walking along the boulevard, talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. Kisses were frequent, as were touches and hugs and by the time they walked up to a taxi stand their hands were firmly laced together.

"In you get," Alex said, opening the door for Samantha. He climbed in next to her and gave the driver the address before he sat back beside her. "Hold on, there is nothing like driving in Paris at rush hour," he said as the taxi took off at high speed making a u-turn back the way they came and racing towards the Arc de Triomphe and the large knot of cars that were going around it. Forty-five minutes later the taxi pulled into a large circular driveway fronting a large house on the outskirts of Paris. While not quite a chateau, it was certainly larger than any house Samantha had ever seen or been to before. Alex paid the fare and they climbed out starting up the stairs where they were met by what only could be described as a butler.

"Good evening, sir," he said, his British accent flawless and exactly what Samantha would have expected and seemed to be missing completely from Alex's speech patterns.

"Good evening Greg how are you this evening?" Alex asked in response, reaching out to shake the man's hand in greeting.

"I am enjoying robust health, thank you, sir. Madam is on the terrace and asks that you join her there. You will be staying for dinner?"

"Yes, we will. Greg, I would like you to meet my friend Samantha, from New York, who is visiting for a few days."

"A distinct pleasure my dear," Greg said, bowing slightly towards her. "Shall I bring you a drink?" he continued as the three of them entered the foyer. Marble, gold, glass and mahogany were her first impressions of the space along with a monstrous crystal chandelier at least twenty feet above her head. The room's proportions were immense, and this was just the entryway. She was afraid of what the rest of the house would be like and if she was properly attired to be there. Alex, it seemed, really did know some interesting people.

"Is Monique drinking?" Alex asked.

"Champagne, of course," Greg replied with a bit of a smile. Samantha was beginning to think there was more here than met the eye, but she was not sure exactly what it was.

"Of course. Two glasses should suffice then, Greg, when you get a moment, and probably another bottle. Dare I ask, but has she been cooking?" he said this last in a stage whisper and Samantha looked at him.

"No, I have managed to keep her out of the kitchen today," Greg responded in a similarly conspiratorial tone.

"Wonderful, then we will not be eating Italian tonight," he said and started laughing with Greg. Quickly he explained the joke to Samantha and they took their leave of Greg and walked across the foyer to a set of French doors on the opposite side that opened onto the terrace.

"Greg is a wonderful guy," Alex started to say. "Monique would be lost without him and I think he would be lost without her. This way," he continued, as they stepped through the doors and out onto a large porch that fit between the two wings of the house and overlooked a pool and gardens. Sitting in the fading evening light was a woman that to Samantha looked to be about 60. She had grey hair cut short, but tasteful and she was lying on a lounge chair, a magazine in her hand and a champagne flute sitting on a table nearby.

"Bon soir, Monique, ca va?" Alex said as they stepped onto the terrace.

She turned slowly but smiled when she saw him. "Alexander, my savior! And you brought dessert, how lovely!"

"Down you old harridan, she is not for you. If you are feeling frisky, go jump Greg," he said with a laugh as he walked over and kissed her on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, same as always, no better, no worse darling," her cultured French accented English was soothing to the ear and Samantha found herself smiling and liking her already.

"Monique, I would like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Samantha, who is visiting for a couple of days. Samantha, this is my dear friend Monique, our hostess tonight."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Samantha said, taking her hand.

"Enchante, the pleasure is all mine chérie," Monique said, her accent changing as she slipped in and out of French, a happy gleam in her eye.

"Hands off, Monique," Alex said, playfully extracting Samantha's hand from Monique's. "Greg is bringing glasses and another bottle, but, from the looks of things, you don't need another one. I will go and see what sort of a mess you have left for me this time while the two of you get acquainted. Samantha, do not let her get away with anything. If she senses weakness, you are lost. If things get really desperate, yell and I will come running." Alex was smiling broadly as he said all this and took his leave of the two women as Greg came through the door with the glasses, saying he would be in the office.

"Sit, please, sit," Monique said to Samantha, indicating the other lounge chair. "So, what should we toast? I know, let's toast Alexander. Without him, I would be a pauper!" They drank their toast and Samantha sat back on her chair enjoying the lovely evening air and beautiful sunset.

"So what shall we talk about," Monique said in opening. "How long have you known Alexander?"

"It seems like all my life, but we really just met this morning," Samantha said blushing slightly with the memory.

"Really? Well, he is a charmer isn't he? And so talented. So how did you meet him?"

Samantha took a deep breath, a sip of the tart, bubbly wine and launched into the story about their initial collision and everything that had happened since. The two of them were still chattering away when Alex came back onto the terrace a while later. The sun had set and lights around the terrace and out in the garden had come on, providing a soft glow lightly illuminating the two women.

"Having fun ladies?" he asked as he pulled the champagne bottle from the ice, pouring himself a glass, only to end up with a dribble in the bottom. "Yes, I can see you have been," he said ruefully.

"Oh, not to worry Alexander, there is plenty more. Did you have success?"

"A little. I am going to have to order a couple of parts and do some more work on the server as well as order some parts for the fabricator, but I can do that from home tomorrow. In the meantime, you can process orders, in fact, it has been doing that, and the raw artwork and the designs are safe. You just won't be able to fabricate much until I get those parts. Josephine will have to do some work I am afraid."

"Bah, a little work would do her good you know," Monique said with no sympathy or humor in her voice.

"You could just fire her, Monique."

"And have her bemoan her lack of funds? Bah, I will not put up with that nonsense any more Alexander, you know that. And don't tell me to turn her out; we have been through that before several times. I cannot put my own daughter out on the streets to fend for herself, I cannot do that."

"And have her try to have you committed for doing it, yes, I know," he sighed and drained what little was in his glass then picked up Samantha's with a wink and took a healthy swallow. "I owe you one," he said to her.

"Monique, what if I could find her something that would keep her out of trouble?"

"Alexander, you have already done so much for me, I could not ask you to do that."

"Who said you were asking, chérie? I am offering. In fact, I might even have something, and it would not be in Paris, if you could put up with that."

"It would be difficult, but I think I could manage that darling. What are you thinking?"

"Not to worry, I will let you know when I have something more solid. Look at it this way; I am calling in a favor to make your life easier and to pay you back for all your kindness."

"You owe me nothing, Alexander darling. She made your life hell for so long that I am the one that should still be in your debt for keeping your head and helping her when you could have just walked away from it all."

"If you will excuse me," Greg said, interrupting the discussion, "dinner is served."

"Thank you Greg. Alexander, could you get my chair for me please?" Monique asked even as he was in motion to the other side of her lounge where Samantha saw a wheelchair that thus far she had not noticed while she had been talking with Monique.

Samantha started scooping up the glasses and Greg quickly moved over to relieve her of her burden, leading to a small battle of wills that resulted in a truce where Greg carried the ice bucket and empty bottle and Samantha carried the glasses while Alex helped Monique into her chair and joined the line heading back into the house and the dining room.

"Samantha, sit here on my right and Alexander, on my left," Monique said while Greg went into the kitchen. "Alexander, would you pour the wine, please?

Greg came back into the room, carrying a dish, the soufflé brimming over the top. He put it on the table and started serving it until the four of them had a plate piled high with the fluffy confection. Served along with it was cold roast beef, fresh bread and garden greens, a simple dinner, on fine bone china and sterling silver.

"To good friends," Monique said, "old and new."

"To friends," the rest of them echoed.

Dinner was a lively affair, with Greg playing the foil to Monique's barbs, occasionally being rescued by Alex but well able to hold his own in the back and forth nature of the conversation as it moved around the table. Samantha was amazed at the way the conversation flowed around the room, from one to the other, always including her and giving her a chance to voice her opinion, which was a new feeling for her. Her family never really asked her opinion, or that of her mother. Her father and three brothers thought that the opinions of women were not relevant. It was a backwards view that many in her small home town seemed to share and had coloured her opinions of the world at large. This was a wonderful change and she reveled in it. She was also beginning to understand why Alex was so fascinating to her. He seemed to know a little bit about everything, which, on reflection was not that surprising having been inside his apartment and seen his eclectic book collection, but it was the way he seemed to draw conclusions from what appeared to be unrelated facts that really surprised her.

"Samantha, we never did get around to what you are doing here?" Monique asked after the dinner had been finished.

"I am trying to make a name for myself," Samantha said. "I am a clothing buyer, or at least I hope to be a clothing buyer. I have several meetings this week with a variety of people and I hope to find a couple of things in sufficient quantity to take back to the United States with me. I had my first meeting today with a Sylvia Beauchamp," she finished, a slight look of disgust on her face.

"Sylvie! How is that old battleaxe? Does she still have that dusty place down from the Champs Elysées? It was a dump ten years ago and she is such a tightwad. I cannot imagine that you would have found anything in her shop of interest."

"You know her? Yes, it was a rather dark, dingy place now that you mention it. Very hard to see the fabrics she was trying to sell me come to think of it. I hope the rest of the week goes better than today did." Samantha tried not to sound bitter but she was. Things really were not starting out well in her opinion.

"But dear, how can it be a bad day when it leads to you meeting Alexander? Why, that should put any dealings with Sylvia completely out of your mind!" Monique said with some feeling. "But don't worry about it. Who else are you going to see? Tell me everything dear, I want to hear it all!"

"What if we take this into the parlor before she answers that Monique?" Alex suggested, knowing that Monique was about to spout forth all sorts of things that would help Samantha, but would block the delivery of dessert if they were still sitting here. "You and Samantha can go and start and Greg and I will clean up and bring dessert into you."

"Alexander, you are a terrible man. Am I keeping you from your gateaux?" Monique said with a little laugh. "I am sure that Samantha would love to help me into the parlor and you can do the dishes. Bring the ice wine when you come please, dear," she said as Samantha got up to help her out of room and Greg and Alex began clearing the table.

"The soufflé was wonderful as always Greg. You have not lost your touch. Light and airy," Alex said as they scrapped the dishes and he started the water in the large kitchen sink, pouring in soap before gently washing the china.

"It's your recipe Alex," he said with a laugh. "But thank you. Here," he passed him the trencher that had held the meat.

"How is she doing, really, Greg? She's hiding it from me again."

"She is in pain. She is hiding it from me too, but she is in pain. She takes her medicine more than four times a day and is sleeping a lot. You have seen her awake for the longest period in three days. She has a doctor's appointment tomorrow and Gaston is coming by in the afternoon."

"Gaston? She's rewriting her will again?"

"Yes. Josephine has been a real pain this month and I am sure that is part of it. I know it cannot be helping her health either with the added stress and the fighting between them. I expect her actually before the night is over. She has been here almost every day although if she knows you are here, then she may not come."

"So Monique has been playing with her software to get me out here has she? Unless she told Josephine that I am here, I don't know how she is going to know. I certainly have not talked with her recently."

"Yes, I am afraid so. Sorry, I tried to stop her, but she said she would not impinge on your friendship by just asking you to come out to keep Josephine from coming by."

Alex put the dish he was washing into the rinse sink and turned to look at Greg.

"Greg, you have my numbers. I don't mind fixing what she breaks, really, but I will come out anytime she wants me to come out. I will even read her a bedtime story, or the headlines from Le Monde."

"I know Alex, I know, but she won't let me."

"So don't tell her. Our secret old friend and when she sleeps we can clean the pool," Alex said with a laugh moving to the next glass while Greg fished the plate out of the sink.

"The pool really does need cleaning doesn't it," Greg said with a chuckle.

"Yes. So hire a service. You are getting too old to be keeping it clean by yourself. Find one with a couple of sexy women and make sure Monique knows when they are coming so she is awake to watch. I am sure that it won't be too hard to find one, but if you can't let me know, I will see if I can one."