4. Anne
Chapter 4
Anne
After Alexandre leaves, I continue to wander around the gardens near the museum. My day passes in a mix of people watching, trying a restaurant Violet recommended, and looking at my plans for the rest of the week. I don’t have set plans for Monday, so agreeing to meet with Alexandre was easy.
Just because he got called in to work doesn’t mean he’s like my ex-husband and a total workaholic. Besides, we just met; it’s not as if he can take off work last minute. When I make it back to my rental, I decide to enjoy some wine and a hot bath. I chose this rental, not for the view, but for the amenities. I could have picked a place with a view of the Eiffel Tower, but this one has a large tub that seemed perfect for long days full of touristy things. Plus, the owner keeps the place stocked with bath salts, candles, and everything else you’d need to pamper yourself and relax. I let the warm bubbles ease my chaotic thoughts. When I’m out of the bath and two glasses into the bottle of red wine, I check my phone.
Alexandre: Sorry again for today. If it’s not too soon, can you meet me at Monceau Park at noon tomorrow? There’s a metro stop right there.
Normally I’d think tomorrow is too soon, but I’m here for two weeks. With his work schedule, when else will I get a chance to go out with him? While the park isn’t a place that’s on my list of Paris hits, it’s still an afternoon with Alexandre.
Anne: I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?
Alexandre: Wear something you don’t mind picnicking in, but I have the rest covered.
Anne: Okay, see you then.
I check my phone for other messages and emails. My mother texted me asking if I heard anything from my sister about getting an interview with her company for when I return to Maine. Unfortunately, the relaxing mood from my wine and bath combo fades. When it comes to mothers butting in, relaxation is nonexistent. I want to live my life according to myself, not my family’s standards. I try my best to push the thoughts aside. I won’t let her bring me down while I’m in Paris. I’ll reply tomorrow. For now, I set my alarm and plug in my phone.
After a restless sleep, I am ready to meet Alexandre at the park. I opted to wear shorts and a loose linen blouse today. My tote bag is packed with typical travel goods: sunglasses, sunscreen, a portable charger in case my phone dies from taking too many photos, and a few essentials like my wallet and keys. I know Alexandre said I didn’t need to bring anything, but I did pack a small bag of chocolates I bought near the Louvre the other day. They’re tiny, fruity dark chocolates shaped like fish. I thought that since he works at Le Petit Poisson , it’d make a cute gift. I hope he likes them.
Hopefully he doesn’t think it’s too cheesy.
The metro is easy to navigate. I get off at the right stop and head to the entrance to meet him. I enjoy people watching as I wait for Alexandre. He comes from around the corner, and my brain instantly stops working. He looks like a rugged artist, with his tousled hair and stubble, dressed in worn jeans and black t-shirt. He has a large backpack and a small cooler in hand.
He greets me in French and with the two cheek kisses. I’m not sure what he murmurs after hello , but it sounds like music that you want to keep listening to all day.
I could get used to this.
I beam as I reply with a simple, “ Bonjour .”
Alexandre leads me to an open grassy area in the park. Other couples and families are enjoying the warm weather and sunshine, too. Several people have picnic blankets and small spreads out. We pick a nice spot and Alexandre lays out a blanket. I help him set up the food he’s brought and everything feels very natural between us, as if we’ve spent months together and not mere days.
“You’ve thought of everything” I say as I take in the food he’s brought for the picnic. There are four kinds of cheese, salami, prosciutto, a tiny container of grapes and one of almonds, a baguette that has already been cut up into small pieces, butter, and of course, champagne.
“I wanted you to have an authentic Parisienne picnic. Let me make you a small plate.”
I watch his hands as he slices cheese and layers them and the meat onto pieces of baguette for me. I notice some small lines of discoloration on his hands, probably from working in kitchen spaces. I haven’t been in the industry for long, but I know most food service workers get scars or burns from the fast-paced environment. In fact, a handful of the guys at the conference had a scar or two on their arms that they said were from working in restaurants.
“Do you have any scars from being a chef?” I ask as he hands me the plate.
“But of course!” His accent is heavy on the vowels as he exclaims, “They’re a true mark of becoming a head chef. Each one is a reminder of something dumb I did in the kitchen. All good learning experiences.”
He starts to show me some and tells me anecdotes from his early days working his way up the kitchen. I munch on the food and enjoy his stories. I could listen to him for hours, even if it was just reciting the dictionary. I love the way the lines around his eyes crinkle as he speaks, his hands gesturing as he tells me about his knife mistakes.
“Have you always lived in Paris?” I ask him, before sipping on the champagne. The bubbles are crisp and there’s a slight hint of apples. It’s perfect with the cheese.
I wish Alexandre would cook for me.
I try to refocus on his words as I imagine us together in a kitchen, cooking together. We’d be dancing around, trying to stay out of each other’s way, but finding ourselves bumping into each other. Maybe one of us would linger. A soft caress here and a light smooch here. Maybe we’d end up making out on a kitchen island. Or getting naked on a couch. His bare ass on full display, our limbs entangled as we explore each other’s bodies.
Pull it together.
“I grew up outside of the city. My parents moved further into the countryside, and I moved to Paris for culinary school. Sometimes it gets lonely, but every day is different when you’re in Paris.” His eyes glaze over for a moment, and I reach out and touch his shoulder. He gently kisses my hand.
“It’s a beautiful city to live in,” I murmur as I linger a moment before withdrawing my hand. “I wish I lived here instead of Maine.”
“You could move. You mentioned divorce.” He nibbles on some cheese. “What keeps you there?” He asks so nonchalantly.
“That’s true.” I bite my bottom lip as I try to sift through my thoughts.
What keeps me in Maine? It’s not a loving relationship. But I do have friends and family.
“For me, I stay in Paris because I enjoy it and I can’t imagine losing the hustle and bustle of the city. But I don’t have ties to keep me in Paris forever. I’ve thought about it before. If there was a good offer, I’d take it and move.”
“I suppose I could move if I wanted. But the divorce took a while and during that time, I quit my job, and I didn’t want to lose my whole support system. My friend offered to train me professionally, and I started working at the bakery. My family all lives in Maine, and while we’re not super close, they are my family, and I love them.”
“In my family, I’m an only child but I have a lot of cousins. Unfortunately, as a single guy in his thirties living in this city, I’m the black sheep. My support system is Fran?ois.” He chuckles.
I let out a long sigh. “My parents are always comparing me to my sister. She has the life they expect us to have, and to them I keep making mistakes.” I look away, trying to keep the tears from coming. I’m tired of being compared and being told my decisions are wrong just because they’re not what my parents expect from me.
“Oh, mon chérie . Mieux vaut être seul que mal accompagné ,” he murmurs as he takes my hands in his. “You are full of passion. Don’t let anyone dull your fire.” He gives me a curt nod before letting go of my hands.
I wish he didn’t let go.
I hesitate, unsure if I want him to answer, but I go for it. “What was the French part?”
“I think…” He strokes his chin “…the equivalent in English is that it’s better to be alone than with bad company. If they only make you feel worse about yourself then you shouldn’t worry about what they think.”
I could have really used someone like Alexandre on my side during the divorce. An image of him in the courtroom pops up in my head. He’s there by my side, all dressed up in a navy suit, defending me in his accent, articulating the odd consonant or two.
Maybe it’s time to let myself be swept up in love again. I want someone like Alexandre in my life. The one who believes in me and will fuel my passions. I may be here to treat myself to a much-needed vacation, but I’m going to relish any time I can spend with Alexandre.
Paris is the city of love, after all.
Alexandre
The picnic sunlight seems to be turning to dusk. We’ve spent all afternoon munching on cheese and chatting about our lives. This time with Anne feels so natural. It’s taken all my willpower to not touch her more. Her neckline is just low enough to display what I can only imagine are very ample breasts. I’ve only been able to give her quick pecks on the cheeks and hold her hands here and there.
“We should pack up soon,” Anne says as she finishes her drink. “It seems like it’s going to get dark fast.”
“Don’t let that sky fool you. It will be a few hours until darkness comes to the city. Do you have dinner plans?” I look at my phone for the time. It’s still too early for a typical French dinner, but we only leisurely grazed over the afternoon.
“No. I’m not particularly hungry though. Are you working tonight?”
“I took the night off in case you needed your personal travel guide all day.” I beam at her, eager to convince her to spend more time with me. Perhaps she’ll agree to dinner, despite the lack of hunger.
“Really?” Her eyes seem to twinkle, the joy in her face evident as she grins.
I reassure her that I’m free all night but she insists on skipping dinner. Instead, we take a leisurely walk along the Seine and continue to chat. I tell her about working in the restaurant and she fills me in on the details of her conference. It’s cute how she smiles with her front teeth showing when she talks about pastries and how she bites her bottom lip when she’s deep in thought.
All too soon, we arrive at her rental.
“I forgot to give this to you earlier. I spaced when I saw all the food you brought.” She pulls a small box of chocolates from her bag.
“For me?” I take the box from her. They’re dark chocolates shaped like fish. “What a perfect surprise.” I lean down to kiss her cheek but she turns her head and I kiss her lips. They’re soft and taste faintly of apples.
It must be from the champagne.
Her lips part slightly, and I deepen the kiss, hungry for more. I want to feel her curves underneath the summer clothes. I pull away, both of us catching our breath, the rise and fall of her chest noticeable against the slight flush of her skin. She tucks her hair behind her ears as she touches her lips.
Perhaps this is purely a fantastic dream.
“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 and Fran?ois . 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.
For now, I will focus on this time with Anne.