Page 9 of Pampered in Paris

“I should probably go.” I can’t think of anything else to say. I want to spend more time with her, but I can tell she’s eager to go inside. She shifts her weight side-to-side.

“It’s getting late.” She starts to dig in her bag. As she gets her keys out, I know this is the end of the night for me. I’ll have no way to blow off this pent-up energy.

“Okay. Can I call you tomorrow?” I ask as she opens her door. “I’d love to take you around Paris some more.”

“That would be lovely, Alexandre. But for now, would you like to come inside?” Anne asks, one hand on the door and the other extended to me.

I take her hand, ready to follow her lead. The entryway is short, with a set of stairs almost immediately behind the door. Anne keeps hold of my hand and we go upstairs. Another door and we’ll be in her rental. Her hand grips mine tightly even as she opens the door to her place.

Maybe she’s nervous.

But she’s not biting her lip, so she’s not too deep in thought or indecisive.

All of my thoughts are erased as I enter the apartment. There are several vases throughout the small studio space filled with colorful flower arrangements. The floral smell is strong but not too overwhelming. It’s as if she’s somehow captured the feeling of being in the street markets with this tiny place. I know this isn’t her own place, it’s a rental, but it feels like she’s made it her space.

As if she’s letting me see further into her life by sharing this with me.

The rental is one large room, with the couch and kitchen island separating it into the kitchen, the living room, and the bedroom. It’s hard to miss the large canopy bed stacked with pillows.

The living space is tidy and organized, but the island is covered with shopping bags and stacks of papers.

I wonder how much time she’s spent in her studio.

Or if she’s just been out and about every chance she gets.

“This is a lovely rental,” I say as Anne takes her shoes off. I follow her lead and remove mine before I step further into the living room.

I’m unsure of what to expect, the empty bed like a shining beacon calling to me. I can’t help but look right at it. I decide to sit on the couch as Anne walks into the kitchen.

“I wanted a good, central location.” She pulls out two wine glasses. “And a really great tub!” I can’t help but imagine Anne’s naked body soaking in warm water. To imagine sitting behind her as she releases all of the tension from the day, nestling herself against my body.

Oh, to be the one rubbing her down with soap, feeling every inch of her body.

I can feel my dick pressing against the fly of my jeans. I try to discreetly shift in place as Anne pours us wine. She brings me a glass of red with a huge catlike grin on her face, as if she’s up to something mischievous.

“What are we drinking?” I narrow my eyes at her as she plops down next to me. She sits with her back to the arm of the couch so that she’s facing me.

“You should taste it first,” Anne quips as she starts to drink her wine.

I sniff first, then swirl the wine around before taking a tiny sip. The taste is fruity, almost like dark berries, but I can’t decide on which berry. It has a rich, chocolate finish. I take an actual drink this time, savoring the taste.

“Ah,excellent choix de vins mon chérie.” I’m unable to fully express the delicious notes of the wine. I skip trying to impress her with my wine knowledge and just default to telling her that she’s made a tasty choice.

“I don’t always understand it, but I love when you speak French.” She edges closer to me as she sets her glass down on the table. “Does that mean you like the wine?”

“It’s a great summer choice. Not too overpowering. I’m glad you like when I speak my mother tongue.” I wink at her as I drink more. “I’m curious how you choose your wine. How do you pick which bottle you want?” I set the glass down.

“Usually, it’s solely based on label design. Maybe not the best method for someone going into the food industry, but I also tend to stick to the under-twenty-dollars section.” Anne sighs heavily as she leans back on the couch. Our height difference isn’t so prevalent sitting next to each other.

“Is there something bothering you,mon chérie?” I murmur, taking her hand in mine. She’s so close to me, I could lean down ever so slightly and kiss her now.

But in this moment, I want to know what ails her and how I can fix it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve cared about someone like this outside of family andFrançois. Though I love him like family. The thought about finding love floats by. The feeling certainly fits this situation.

You want to fix things for people you love; you don’t want them to be upset or in distress. I watch as Anne closes her eyes. Her face is so delicate, I catch myself before I reach out to stroke her cheek.

It’s way too soon to be thinking about love.

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