Finding Rene

"I'm surprised you remember that, Laura," Georgette said with some astonishment to her voice, "do you remember going there?"

"Yes I do Mum," she answered.

"You couldn't have been more than twelve or so," Georgette added.

"I was eleven. I remember."

The food came, it was fantastically presented. Everything was first class. My toast had basically steak tartare on it. It was just the right amount for lunch and it was wonderful. Looking over, I was almost envious of not having ordered the fish soup. Those Belgian's sure do know how to eat. That restaurant was by Belgians, for Belgians and I suppose for the French, too. Even the fries were out of this world.

Laura picked up the conversation after we settled into our food, "I know I'm at the risk of alienating Bill, but I must ask, you said the English was added in the gloss and it was insular, is that what you said? And what is gloss?"

Before the ladies could answer Laura turned to me and said, "We were talking about the Lindisfarne Gospels."

I quietly thanked her for giving me the heads up. She must have sensed I was squirming a bit between mom and aunt during their last history lesson.

"That's right Laura," started Marie, "oh, this soup is always so good." Her voice notched up a little, "Gloss or glossa in early manuscripts are the little notes or sometimes drawings that are found in margins or between the lines. Occasionally it's referred to as marginalia. Sometimes they were added during the initial production of the document, sometimes after." She paused to gauge both of our reactions, "The tenth century copy of the original Lindisfarne Gospels made sure that there was enough space between the lines to add gloss, either concurrently or after the fact. That can't be discerned."

Laura glanced over to see if I was okay or if I was about to run out of the restaurant screaming, Edvard Munch style.

"Hey, I find this all fascinating," I told her and them, "this is great," I added holding up one palm. The food was certainly good.

"Insular," Marie added, "is a reference to the cursive script style, one of my favorites."

"Yes," added Georgette smiling at Marie.

Marie continued, "It was instituted by the Hiberno-Scottish mission."

I must have looked completely stupid.

Marie added, "By the Irish."

I looked over to Laura with, I'm sure, incredulity in my face.

"I'm sorry, my mum was a history teacher and my aunty certainly knows her stuff. I was weaned on this." She smiled at me, feeling a little uncomfortable that maybe I was feeling uncomfortable.

I was fine. I just didn't know anything about what they were discussing. I was also afraid that if I'd opened my mouth up again I'd just ask another stupid question like 'who's Linda?'

I held up both hands in the air, "Please go on ladies, I'm loving this."

They both smiled, all three actually.

Georgette picked up, sonorously, "The Hiberno-Scottish mission in actuality is what grew from St. Patrick's mission in Ireland. In essence it was the reintroduction of classical learning, thought and values back to Europe, certainly to the shadow of what was Pax Romana, and in truth, back to the whole world. The works of Plato, Homer, Cicero, Virgil, all the classics of Greece and Rome may have been lost forever had it not been fed back to the former Romans, to the rest of the Europeans and indeed to the whole world by the Irish."

"What?" I gasped.

Laura started chuckling to herself.

Frikkin' Rene Magritte. I just figured it out. It wasn't me. These women were nuts.

Laura giggled and stifled it with a hand over her mouth.

"I'm not sure that it's fair to say that their values were transferred back," said Marie.

"By the Irish?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes," answered Georgette and Marie in unison. "The Irish saved civilization as we know it," added Marie.

"The Irish saved civilization?"

"Yes," answered Georgette and Marie together with their soup spoons suspended in the air.

"Why blame the Irish?" I asked as Laura was laughing out loud. "Why not the Estonians or the people of Burkina Faso or how about those crazy Venezuelans?"

Laura was ready to fall off her chair. She was unable to control her fork to stab the salad.

The two women looked to me for a moment and then to Laura.

Georgette spoke up smiling, "I'm not sure what Laura finds so funny, but it's so refreshing to see that she's in good spirits."

"You forgot the Waldensians," Laura snorted out while slapping the table.

That got me going.

The two women just sat there watching us with startled looks on their faces. People around us were clearly getting annoyed. They looked to each other then back to us.

"Are you two all right?" Georgette asked.

Laura had to cover her face with her napkin to stifle her laughter. Her shoulders and chest continued to heave up and down. She held up one hand in the air and after a moment said, "We're fine, Mum, I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath and wiped the moisture from my sore cheek. "I'm sorry," I added.

There was a silent pause for a moment. Marie scooped up some soup and quietly said, "The Waldensians certainly played their part in the Reformation, but that wasn't for another five hundred years."

That was enough, Laura and I completely lost it. She was snorting, I was cackling with laughter.

"Where did the Waldensians come from?" I barely managed to stammer out.

"From Waldo," Laura roared.

"Ah haha haha hahah!" It was too much. Even Georgette and Marie were smiling and giggling.

Georgette asked, "Where's Waldo?"

I nearly pissed myself.

After a moment or two to comport myself, I managed to speak. "I must say, you two ladies are a riot."

Georgette and Marie looked at each other, smiling, and then back to us with big toothy grins on their faces.

"It's so nice to see you two having fun," Georgette said.

I turned to face Laura, she looked back at me. Her grey eyes were twinkling as she smiled. She was lovely.

I sliced a piece of toast. As I lifted it to my mouth Marie said, "They came from France."

"Who did?" I froze with steak tartar on toast about to go into my mouth.

"The Waldensians, they came from France."

I couldn't put the food into my mouth. I could hear Laura giggling next to me. "So did the Coneheads, they came from France, too." Tears were in my eyes. It was too much.

We ate silently for a moment trying to regain our composure. I watched as Marie picked up a few fries and dipped them into a little dish of mayonnaise. How weird.

"Why would you say that their values weren't transferred back?" asked Georgette.

"I'm sorry?" asked Laura.

"Marie questioned if the old world values were transferred back by the Irish."

Oh no, not that again. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I sat with my head down stifling laughter. My whole body was shaking.

"Are you alright Bill?"

I took a deep breath and answered, "I'm fine."

After lunch, which Laura insisted on paying for, Laura and I were shown to the apartment. It was a smallish two bedroom unit with a balcony that looked out to the sea. The kitchenette, dining and living areas were all sort of combined, open concept type. It was ideal. We were on the fourth floor, four doors down from Marie and Georgette.

"This is great," I said.

"Thanks, Mum." Laura cooed.

Down the little hallway, we parked our little trolley suitcases in front of different bedroom doors. Just a nice little charade for Georgette's sake, as if we were going to sleep separately.

"I'm glad the apartment is being used. My friend Andre will also be pleased that it's being used. Just leave everything the way it is. Bring the used towels and bed sheets to me. I'll wash them and put them back."

Laura was searching for something in her purse.

"Great," I said. I wondered about the sheets. After last night's eruption. What were we going to hand to Laura's mother?

Laura found a hair scrunchie and started bunching her hair into a pony tail.

"You didn't say how long you were planning to stay?"

"Just overnight, Mum." "About a year," I countered as we walked back out into the main room.

Georgette chuckled as Laura stepped up next to me. Without thinking Laura wrapped her arm around my waist and I draped my arm over her shoulder.

Georgette's eyes widened and her face turned red. "Tournedos for supper last night, steak tartare for lunch today, I see the pattern," she chuckled then continued on, raising the pitch of her voice and with great mirth in her voice said, "I have a restaurant recommendation for your supper tonight." With that she waltzed out of the apartment laughing, with her heels clicking on the tile floor and her bouffant hair floating above her. She closed the door behind her.

Laura fell into my arms. We laughed and then we kissed in spite of my swollen lip.

"I want to suck your cock," she whispered and then gently pushed me back towards the sofa, "payback time for this morning." With a gentle push from Laura, my bum landed on the sofa.

Wow! She wants to suck my cock? I've had blowjobs, but they were always a bit of a coercion, or almost an obligation, or a hard sell tactic by the woman, but did I hear that right? She wants to suck my cock? It wasn't a hard sell.

"You don't seem lesbian anymore." I was genuinely puzzled.

"I want your cock," she asserted as she reached for my belt buckle.

"Oh, pretty Polly wants penis," I managed as I sat up to the edge of the cushion.

Laura knelt down between my legs and tucked her thumbs into her armpits. Smiling and flapping her arm-wings she squawked, "Argh, pretty Polly wants penis. Pretty Polly wants penis." Her head jerked back and forth with each word.

It's tough to pull your pants down when you're laughing, but I managed.

My pants and underwear were pooled around my ankles. Laura pulled one foot through shoe and all and then pulled my knees apart. She knelt between my legs and was onto me in an instant. I immediately started to harden.

I couldn't believe what was happening. It wasn't just cock to mouth, it was soul to soul. She was sucking my psyche out. I didn't understand. I was trying to pleasure her, but it was all turned around. If she got pleasure from me getting pleasure from her... then I was good with it! I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

With both hands and mouth she kissed and rubbed and fondled my cock and balls. Before I was fully hard, she had my cock in her warm mouth and looked up to me with her grey eyes. She was humming with joy. I couldn't help but peek to see that her eyes sparkling with delight. The corners of her lips curled up into a smile between sucking motions.

My big head swirled in time with her tongue as it swirled around my little head.

I was hard. Super hard.

She was tugging on my cock with her left hand and bobbing her head up and down. Her right hand was in her own pants, rubbing furiously. Clearly she was right into this.

Laura deliberately angled my cock in her mouth so it garishly poked out one cheek then the other. I could see the definition of my cock head through her cheeks. My brain was sparking rapidly. Then down her throat she would jamb my cock. She watched my eyes whenever the angle allowed her to get a glimpse.

My eyes were rolling. The visuals were too much. The feeling was too much. My brain shut down, my body took over. I was in heaven.

Marie came into view.

I gasped!

Marie screeched and dropped a very small pitcher of milk. It shattered on the tile floor sending milk and glass everywhere. Laura's head snapped up and nicked my cock with her tooth.

"Ouww!" My cock flopped onto my belly.

Marie ran out of the apartment, her bouffant floating above her. She didn't even close the door.

Laura was white as she knelt in front of me. Then her head turned a very deep red.

My cock deflated instantly. There was a tiny drop of blood on the side of it.

"Oh my god," she trembled. Her chin was out of control.

We stared at each other for a few moments not fully believing what just happened.

"Oh my god."

"Oh dear."

I pulled my pants up and found myself and Laura, too, in complete panic mode.

In no time, without really saying more than two words at a time to each other, we had found paper towels, the garbage bin, a small broom and dust bin and cleaned everything up. We were both freaking out and feeling both very guilty and very, very foolish.

I looked over to her as she held a plastic bag open for me to put in the last of the broken glass and milk infused paper towels, "I think we should go over and apologize," I suggested.

It took her a while but then she said, "I think you're right, Bill."

We crept down the hall with our sweaty fingers nervously intertwined and heads slunk down. I felt like a ten year old being sent to report to the principal's office. Laura had an absolute look of horror on her face. Her whole demeanor was grey.

We tapped on their door. "Come in," we heard.

Georgette and Marie sat side by side on their floral patterned couch with their hands folded in their floral patterned laps, grinning. Between the two of them and their couch they were like a giant two headed floral monster. Bright red lipstick surrounded big white teeth. Big, bluish-grey bouffant hair. They weren't even blinking as they stared at us. Grinning.

Silence.

Followed by embarrassing silence.

All four of us spoke quickly at the same time, "I'm sorry." "We're sorry." "I should have knocked." "I should have locked the door." "We shouldn't have..." "You're a big girl now." "I'm sorry."

Then there was silence again.

It was painfully awkward.

Eyes darted back and forth.

And again.

"Will you need some milk?" Marie slowly asked, forcing a smile.

"No, we're good." I snapped back.

Silence.

The two ladies didn't move. They just sat there with that stupid look on their faces.

Silence.

"We're,just, going, to, go, for, a, stroll, along, the, beach," Laura slowly sweated out one word at a time.

"Oh I'm sure that will be lovely," Marie countered instantly. "Have fun," Georgette added.

Silence again.

Just dumb-ass grins with puffed up hair staring at us.

"Okay, see ya later," I said with my face plastered in a wide grin of disbelief.

They smiled.

We bolted out of the apartment, closing the door behind us.

I looked at Laura. She burst out into a silent laugh. The whitest woman in the world just turned a deep purple. I did, too. Clutching our sides we ran back to Andre's apartment and straight into the bedroom where we buried our faces in the pillows to stifle our laughter. I know my feet were kicking in the air.

After a few minutes Laura rolled on top of me and pressed her sweaty, teary face onto mine. We kissed.

"Ouch."

"Come on," she said after another, but softer kiss, "let's go to the beach."

We cleaned ourselves off and slipped into our... swim suits. She looked great in a little black one piece outfit. Her nipples sure pointed out. Laura found some towels.

"What do you mean we can't go dressed like this? It's a brand new suit."

"This is Belgium. I guarantee you no one else will be strolling around in their swim suits."

"So?"

"We will not make fools of ourselves," she said sternly.

"Okay," I answered. I never knew Belgium was a country of Puritans.

She was right, of course, as we strolled along the paved boardwalk, with swim suits under our clothes and towels in a bag. Laura had on a pair of light brown shorts and the same light blue top. Not a single soul was wearing a swim suit as they walked along. All rather dignified, really.

"When do you really have to be back in Canada?" she asked as we strolled along.

"I don't know. I really don't want to think about it right now."

She squeezed my hand. I knew what she was thinking.

"How about you?" I asked. I couldn't help it. Reality was creeping back into my life.

"The original plan was that my mum would drive me to the Chunnel tomorrow and I'd take the bus from the other side, but to be honest, I don't have to be back until Tuesday morning. I've a meeting that I absolutely cannot miss."

"Damn," I said, "and I just got us an apartment for a year."

Her grin was huge. We walked silently for a while, enjoying the beach and the boardwalk. Laura was correct, she did have a bit of a limp, but it was very minor. We could see the boardwalk was going to end just ahead, and just like the boardwalk ending, the truth was that our time together would end abruptly, too. Emotionally, I was a wreak. This crazy little woman was driving me nuts. I couldn't explain it, nor could I ignore it. It was as if she managed to place a clamp on my heart: Laura's Zone. I didn't know what was happening to me.

"I have an idea," she said in perfect Brit.

"Oh?"

"Eventually, as much as I hate to think about it, you will need to catch an international flight home. From De Panne you really only have three choices. Brussels, Paris or London."

"Okay," I said, not quite sure where she was going with the conversation, or for that matter, which airport I would use. My interest was certainly piqued. Paris? Oooh! I recognized immediately that she was the one grounded in reality and that I was the one that was—I had to face it—being a little unstable.

"Why don't you drive me home tomorrow, stay the night at my house," she said with a huge smile, "and tomorrow after we get back, we can do something in London together. And, and," she added pointing a finger in the air, "I know just the thing to do." Her grey eyes positively sparkled.

"What?" I asked. I know my voice was upbeat and curious. Fuck all day maybe?

"I'll bet the Tate Modern has a Magritte or two."

"Oooohh! You are one clever girl. I'm in!"

We dropped the bag just two feet short of where the boardwalk ended and embraced each other. Her grey eyes bore into me.

"I'll drive you home."

"I'll take you to the Tate," she countered.

"I'll buy you dinner afterwards."

"And then I'm going to fuck your brains out," she said grinning wildly.

I couldn't help but beam back, even through my sore lip.

"I love your mother."

"Yes, it's all her fault."

"Bless her," I said.

"Let's not get too carried away."

We picked up the towel bag and stepped off the boardwalk into the hot sand. After a few steps, we kicked off our shoes. As soon as we did that, we yelped from the sand's heat and ran towards the water.

Just like a couple of children.

The water was cool on our feet. At precisely that moment I saw Laura in completely different light yet again. I realized that I'd never been happier in my life. I was being drawn to this crazy little woman in a way that I never experienced before. I was falling head over heels for her. From the smiles on her face and the twitches in her chin, I knew she was feeling the same for me.

"Tell me," she said as we walked along through the cool water lapping up onto the shore. "What really happened between you and your fiancée?"

Sheesh. With a question like that Laura was really getting serious, but it was fair, I guessed.

"It was much as I explained. CeeCee and I just drifted apart. Or rather, she drifted away from me."

Laura kept gazing straight ahead as we walked.

I continued, "It was my job I think. I was building a firm from the ground up. I was consumed by it. It was a lot of hours. I think she came to the understanding, or the belief, that, sure, I was going to be successful in life, at least financially, but that she would just be an ornament to me. That's the actual word she used once."

"Is that how you felt, that she was just an ornament?"

"Hell no. I loved her. At least I thought I did. And I was striving in my business to make a life for the both of us."