One Night in Paris

Happily, I also scarcely recalled Ximena.

"You're sure you don't want any help with this?" I asked when the bill arrived, even reaching for my wallet.

"No! I needed this, Adam! I didn't even know how badly I did!" She looked as happy and mellow as I was feeling as she set her credit card down on the bill tray. "But I'll tell you what, I don't want this to be over just yet."

"Want to go get a bottle of wine somewhere?" I asked, also relieved I wouldn't be going back to my room just yet.

"I've got plenty of that at home, if you'd like to join me." She reached over and squeezed my hand. "Just to talk, if you want, Adam. We've got so much time left to catch up on!"

"Oh, I want all right," I quipped.

The drizzle had turned to rain by the time we stepped out into the well lit and busy backstreets of the Latin Quarter. I welcomed it. "Can't get any more Paris than this," I said.

Tanya laughed. "God, I can't believe you, Adam. Is there nothing you're not going to turn into something romantic?"

"Don't you remember that about me?" I asked her as we made our way up to the Boulevard Saint Michel.

"Yes, a little," she said, "But I never thought it would include getting caught in the rain!"

Only then did it occur to me that I wouldn't have anything dry to change into when we got to her place. But I smiled through that worry.

The Saint-Michel Metro station was just as I remembered it, as was the rather nasty sound the doors made when they opened and closed -- like someone hocking up half a lung -- but I was enjoying Tanya's company too much to care. "Man, this brings back memories," I said as we stepped onto the crowded and well-lit train.

"I wish I had more memories of it," Tanya said. "Usually when I was in this neighborhood, it was on the way to a club and we were already drunk. Then of course we had to split a taxi back to campus. So expensive!"

"I remember Christmastime our first year, I'd been studying at Starbucks --"

"How bloody American of you, Adam!"

"Well, I am American, aren't I?" I said. "Anyway, it was a cold rainy night like this and I'd been studying, and on my way home an older Portuguese woman sang a Christmas carol -- at least I think it was a carol. So beautiful! I was feeling the spirit all the way home."

"Christmas first year," Tanya said. "That could've been the first time Mattieu and I...well, you know. Sorry." She blushed and laughed. "But it wasn't half as romantic as your story anyway."

"How's that possible?"

"We'd been playing hard to get with each other for weeks, and it was about two in the morning and we were drunk out of our minds when we finally...I'm sorry, Adam, you don't want to hear about that."

"It's none of my business," I concurred. "Don't worry, I won't overshare any of my stories about Ximena."

"Do you even have any?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Fortunately she joined in on my laughter, and there was no need for me to explain that no, Ximena and I had never even held hands. Many were the images I'd had in mind back then about the two of us enjoying all the romance that seemed to ooze out of every corner of the city, and some of them had grown so vivid I could still see them. But none of them had ever really happened.

Tanya had a beautiful townhouse in a part of the city I couldn't ever recall visiting. I'd seen her photos of it on Facebook back when she and Mattieu had first moved in, and when she ushered me inside and flipped the lights on, it looked just as elegant in person as it had in those pictures. "Listen," she said as soon as she'd shut the front door behind us, "I've got some of Mattieu's old clothes still here, and you're going to change into them. No arguments!"

"It's a deal," I said, pulling off my shoes, which were sopping. I wondered if she was also going to change, as her dress looked pretty dry but I had no doubt her tights were also soaked. I followed her upstairs, doing my best not to stare at her shapely behind as I did.

She led me to up the upstairs hallway to a tiny bedroom. "I've put his stuff in here," she explained as she flipped on the light to reveal a single bed and a jumble of boxes. She picked one of them up off the floor and set it on the bed, and opened it. "Help yourself. I have no idea if he's ever coming back, but I've got nothing else to do with this room anyway. See you downstairs?"

"Of course." As she shut the door, I caught a glimpse of another door across the hallway, which was closed. Little Kristene's room, I supposed -- she wouldn't want to have to even look at it.

I recalled Mattieu being about my size, but as I put on the old -- but dry -- t-shirt, sweater and jeans, I found they were a bit big on me. I didn't mind. It felt like a victory of some sort to be wearing his clothes in what used to be his home. I told myself to stop thinking that way -- Tanya was a friend, and she was undoubtedly still hurting -- but I couldn't, not completely.

Paris did always leave me feeling rather wistful. Ximena? The weather? The inevitable regrets of ten years on the hustings and I still wasn't rich yet? I didn't know, but I figured there was a reason why French novels were always so depressing.

At least my appearance was good for a laugh when I arrived in her palatial living room a few minutes later. "Oh, Adam, that's adorable!" she said, patting the spot beside her on the couch. She had taken her tights off but was still wearing everything else.

"At least they're dry," I said. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming over!" she said, standing up as soon as I was settled. "I've been spending far too much time alone in here lately." She pulled a bottle of red wine out of the cabinet next to the television set and handed it to me along with a corkscrew she'd had squirreled away somewhere. "Open it, please? What do you feel like watching? Don't say romance, Adam, I'm warning you!"

"Why not?" I asked, passing over in silence the fact that was exactly what I'd have asked for, and wondering if she remembered what a mush I was.

"How would you feel about watching romances if you were newly divorced?"

"Point taken," I said as I went to work on opening the bottle. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "It's for the better, really." Then she busied herself with rifling through her DVD collection. All at once she stopped and drew both hands up to her face, and burst into tears.

"Tanya!" I jumped up and threw my arms around her. "I'm sorry I said that, really!"

She hugged me back. "Not your fault!" she whimpered. "I just miss Kristene so much."

"I can only imagine!" I said.

"Were your parents divorced, Adam?"

"No, but they probably should've been. I had a pretty rough childhood."

"Don't say that! You didn't have to grow up without a mother or a father!"

"Of course not. That's why I said I'm sorry. But I can tell you, growing up with two parents who don't even like each other very much...that's worse, really. Besides, I'm sure Kristene misses you too."

"Yes, of course." Tanya drew back and got herself under control. "She does, and she's always so happy to see me when we talk on Skype."

"Do you want to be alone?"

"That's the last thing I want!" Her smile was back. "Pour us both some wine, and let's watch something mindless."

She put on a James Bond movie I didn't recognize, and I decided to keep my opinion about the man and his movies to myself. Just past the brushoff of Miss Moneypenny, Tanya turned to me, all smiles again. "You're not paying attention at all, are you?"

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"Maybe I'm just hoping you're not, because I'm not," she admitted. "I've watched this one a dozen times before, usually on my own."

"And now that you're not alone, you can't fantasize about old James, huh?" I quipped.

I was expecting her to either laugh her ass off or slap me or both. Instead she smiled coyly and said, "Well, yes."

That made me laugh, but I managed to stifle it.

"What? Guys have porn, women have stuff like this!"

"No, I agree! I just wasn't expecting that answer."

"Glad you understand, then. If you don't want to watch it..."

"Oh, sure I do," I said, figuring my only other option was a lonely ride back to my room in the Tenth. "Of course, if you want to just grab a blanket and play with yourself under it..."

"Dream on!" She laughed, I joined in, and we clinked glasses and both went back to pretending to care about the movie.

I spent the rest of it imagining Tanya masturbating to her heart's content and hoping Mattieu's jeans didn't reveal too much. They probably did, but Tanya showed no sign of caring.

I hadn't planned on us finishing the wine or me falling asleep before the movie was over, but both happened. Apparently Tanya fell asleep as well, for I awoke to her rubbing my leg chastely. "Sorry," she said, drawing her hand back when I opened my eyes. "You just looked so adorable there, I couldn't resist. I'm sorry."

"I didn't complain, did I?" I pointed out.

Tanya looked down at her lap and laughed. "True, you didn't. It's just, we're friends, and..."

"And I said I didn't mind." I sat up. "How about you, want a backrub?" I chanced a playful rub between her shoulder blades, which she appeared to enjoy.

"Oh, that'd be lovely!" She lost no time in sliding off the couch and settling herself on the floor in front of me.

"What time is it?" I eagerly gripped each of her shoulders and began rubbing.

"About two, I think," she said. "I remember noticing you were asleep and I was going to go upstairs, but..."

"But what?" I stopped rubbing.

"Don't stop, that feels great!" As I resumed rubbing, she continued. "But you just looked so adorable there, and, well, Adam, I haven't slept beside anyone else since I left Mattieu. It felt great. And so does this!"

"It's been nice for me, too," I said, noting as I rubbed that she was still wearing her bra. I was tempted to invite her to take it off, but cooler heads prevailed -- barely. "I've been on my own for a while now, you know."

"Do you ever think of going back to America?"

I chuckled. "Did you ever read any Hemingway, Tanya?"

"No."

"He had a short story, set here in Paris, about an American kid and his father, and...well, I don't think it's in the real story, but there's a TV movie of it where the kid says something about never wanting to go home because things are so messed up over there. I replay that in my head almost every day."

"That was a hundred years ago, Adam! And things were no better over here then."

"Then," I repeated. "I remember thinking us generation X'ers missed out on the whole Lost Generation thing. Careful what you wish for."

"Generation what? What do you mean?"

"Sorry," I said. "Just feeling sorry for myself there. A lot of Americans feel like we haven't got a home anymore these days." I reached my hands down further on her back, and wondered if she even minded how obvious her bra was to me. Probably not, I mused. Women are used to it being there, after all. "I'm sure you know what it's like, starting over in a new country," I went on. "But you have such a lovely house here, and right in the middle of the most beautiful city in the world...I envy you."

"Adam, stop!" I did, but I didn't have time to draw my hands all the way back before she jumped up, clenching her fists. "How can you say that?!"

"How can I say what? That I envy you? Who wouldn't?"

"I wouldn't!" She ran both hands through her hair, which still managed to look great even after falling asleep on the couch. "You and your beautiful memories, the lady on the Metro, the finding romance in everything, and what are my memories of this wonderful place?! Getting drunk every weekend, sleeping all day Saturday for a year, and you know how much the Dutch and Danish guys cared about me! And then Mattieu..." She covered her face with both hands and the tears came again. "This house is a prison, Adam! Paris is a prison!"

"I'm so sorry, Tanya." I stood up and reached over gingerly, wondering if she wouldn't want me to touch her again.

Evidently she did, for she threw her arms around me as the tears continued. "I know you didn't mean it to hurt me, Adam. I just -- people tell me how lucky I am, living here, and..."

"And they never figured out that French novels are always depressing for a reason," I quipped.

This had the desired effect -- some laughter along with the tears. "Thank you! I needed that. Just...don't envy me, okay, Adam? Don't envy me."

"Point taken," I said. "But I sure do miss Paris."

She tightened her arms around me. "You don't miss it tonight, do you? You're here, aren't you?" Then, to my surprise, she drew one arm around front and rubbed my chest. "Is this okay, Adam? I wanted so much to do it while you were asleep."

I laughed, but welcomed her caress. "That's sweet. Watching me in my sleep, were you?"

"I told you it's nice having someone sleeping beside me for a change," she said. "Besides, I don't want to embarrass you, but I noticed your jeans while you were sleeping, and...well, should I be flattered?"

"That's a natural part of the sleep cycle," I said through my pleasant embarrassment. "But, I mean, if you're asking am I attracted to you, of course I always was."

"Then why are you being such a gentleman now?!" she demanded with a grin. "Can't you see what I want?"

"I was hoping you might," I said. "It's just, it has been ten years and we just happened to meet tonight, and --"

"Isn't that perfect for you, Mister Romantic?" she demanded. Before I could answer, she kissed me hard on the lips and left no doubt whatsoever as to what she wanted. I eagerly kissed back, and took my turn reaching one hand around front. "Oh, that feels good!" she exhaled in my ear. "Nobody's touched those since..."

"Forget about Mattieu!" I said, and seeing it was welcome, I reached my other hand back around front and went to town on both breasts.

Tanya sighed and tilted her head back. "You sure know what to do with those!" Then she squinted with the bright light from above. "Lets get upstairs. Too bright here."

"The better to see you with," I joked, although I also wanted to go upstairs. "Unless you're shy, of course."

"Shy?!" Tanya took two steps back, and reached back and unzipped her dress, and presently she stood proudly before me in a lacy black bra and panties. Hands on hips, she grinned at me. "You were saying? Now, do you really want to stay here?"

I only laughed and stepped forward, and she turned to lead me down the hall to the stairs. Mesmerized at the gorgeous view of my old friend in her underwear just two steps ahead of me, I followed her up the stairs and turned left instead of right this time.

The master bedroom was dark, but the curtains were open and a pale rain-streaked glow illuminated the ceiling. "Want to shut the curtains?" she offered as soon as she had me in her grips at the foot of the queen-sized bed.

"Let's not," I said. "It's cold and rainy out there, and here we are warm and dry and together."

"I don't know about 'dry,' Adam," she said with a giggle, and she took my right hand and placed it between her legs. Sure enough, her panties were damp to the touch.

"Lovely!" I whispered, and I slipped my fingers under the waistband and ran them playfully through her bush.

"Oh, Adam!" While I was fingering her pussy, she got busy on getting my clothes out of the way. I slipped one finger in and got a delicious moan from her in response as she pushed my pants and boxers down. I kicked them away and felt her first gentle grip on my hardness.

Thought it meant my sweater and her bra weren't going anywhere for the moment, I stroked harder and also slid a second finger inside, delighting in her warm wet grip.

She delighted in it too, and said something in Russian. Then she laughed. "Sorry! I lost myself there!"

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" I replied, and kissed her again to save her any more trouble with talking dirty in the wrong language. So there were no more words as I rubbed both fingers in gentle rhythm and also stroked her clit with my thumb. No more words, but I knew she was coming when she pulled back and yelped and grabbed at my arm. "Onhhhh!" A deep sigh, and she continued, "Adam, thank you."

"Thank you!" I whispered as I put my arms around her to undo her bra. "I didn't even know how lonely I was here!"

"Forget about that for tonight!" She eagerly grabbed at the straps of her bra to pull it away once I had it undone, and then lost no time in grabbing at my sweater. "Let's get this off you too!"

Her pale skin all but glowed in the dim light from outside as she welcomed my admiring gaze and my hands on her luscious breasts. She stood still for a moment to let me play with them -- and, I suppose, to admire me -- and then took my hand and led me to the bed.

She pulled back the covers and lay back on the bed with her legs spread and her arms open for me. "Come here!" she squealed.

I had other ideas first. As I slid down and she realized what I was up to, she said, "Oh, you don't have to do that!" That only strengthened my resolve as I could just imagine Mattieu turning up his nose at her beautiful pussy, and I hooked my arms under each of her legs and dove in.

In no time it would appear she had decided I most certainly did have to do that, or at any rate she was very happy with my doing it, as her laughs and shrieks and howls rang out joyfully through the room as I teased and licked her clit again and again, and occasionally reached down as far inside her as my tongue could reach. She tasted divine, and her playful squirming was miles from the sad old friend I'd witnessed downstairs.

After what I guessed was her second orgasm, I came up for air and she grabbed at my shoulders and wriggled out of my grasp. "Your turn!" she proclaimed, and I more than willingly flipped onto my back. Even before I'd really settled there, she was on top of me and grasping my cock tightly in her hand. I expected some teasing, but she guided me inside immediately. "Ooooffff, I need that!" she exclaimed.

"So good," I agreed, and she was. The rain was pouring as hard as ever outside the window, the sound of it made her warm and wet grip on me all the more delightful. I hadn't taken much notice of her long fingernails, painted a deep shade of red, but now I couldn't miss them as she dragged them playfully up and down my chest while rocking up a storm. Even in the throes of intimacy, she was elegant as ever as her breasts bounced in rhythm and she ground deliciously into me.

"You make a lot of noise for a man!" she said as I drew close.

"Why should women have all the fun?"

"You let me have most of it tonight!" she exclaimed. But as if on cue, I felt the point of no return coming, and I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to savor the beautiful moment. I exhaled deeply and opened my eyes to find her sitting still on me and finishing herself off one last time with her hands.

"Oh, that is beautiful!" I said, reaching up to caress her breasts as she brought herself off.

"You're the first man to say so."

"You're joking!"

"No. They all want to prove how manly they are by doing it all themselves." With a final inner squeeze, she slid off me and curled up beside me. "You're a nice change, Adam!"

"This is a nice change, too," I said, rubbing her side affectionately. "But I guess our friendship will never be the same, huh?"

"Would you want it to be? A few Facebook messages a year for ten years?"

"Good point," I said. "I always did want to get to know you better, you know."

She laughed. "I guess now you do!"

"Yes, and it's beautiful, but..."

"No, I know what you meant, Adam. And me too. I don't even know how you ended up studying here when you did. You didn't like working in the civil service, was it?"