Chapter 6
The suite Dominique and Bill got at the hotel in Courchevel was even nicer than the ones they had had before.
It had a big living room with a beamed ceiling, oversized comfortable furniture, a huge fireplace, a beautiful view of the mountains, a bedroom with a canopied bed, and two luxurious marble bathrooms with deep bathtubs.
The service was excellent, and the food in the restaurant outrageously expensive but worth it.
There was transportation to take them to any of the three valleys that Courchevel had access to.
And there was champagne waiting for them when they arrived, with a tray of sausages and cheeses, cookies, petits fours, and a box of delicious chocolates.
Dominique ate one as they walked around the room, and smiled checking it out.
The management said the room had been recently redone as part of a renovation, and everything looked fresh and brand-new.
The staff called her “Mrs. Smith,” which she enjoyed hearing every year for two weeks.
She felt a little like Cinderella at the ball, but for now the glass slipper fit, even though the clock would strike midnight in two weeks and she knew it.
She could revel in being with him night and day until then.
Bill kissed her when the bellboy left the room. Their bags were set up on stands in the bedroom, and Dominique had declined the offer to unpack them. She liked unpacking her own bags, and could do Bill’s too.
She flopped down on the couch, ate another chocolate, and smiled at Bill.
“I love traveling with you,” she said, feeling young and romantic. It felt like a honeymoon every year. It was already evening when they got to the hotel.
“Do you want to eat in the room or go to the restaurant?” he asked her.
She thought about it for a minute and opted for the room.
It had been a long day, and it was cozier being in the suite with him.
It seemed like too much trouble to get dressed up, to show off with the other guests.
The European women who stayed there wore jazzy après-ski clothes and a lot of jewelry at night.
Dominique brought very little, and she was wearing gold bracelets Bill had given her.
She didn’t want to worry about big jewelry at the hotel.
They had noticed over the years that there were two kinds of women there.
There were sexy, much younger gorgeous girls, who were either hookers or the mistresses of older, very wealthy men.
And there was a group of older, much less svelte women who used little or no makeup, wore ski clothes of quality but with less style, and didn’t have glamorous-looking hair or wear sexy, romantic-looking fur hats, who were the wives those men had brought with them.
The two groups never mixed, and Dominique realized with a start the first time they stayed there that she was one of the former group, a mistress and not a wife, though she was twice the age of the girlfriends and mistresses and a respectable woman, even if she was the girlfriend of a married man.
She felt like a misfit when she thought about it.
She couldn’t help but notice the longing looks of the men with their wives toward the sexier single women, or the inviting glances the young women cast at the men who hadn’t brought their wives, hoping for a golden future.
The men were often just as unattractive in one group as in the other, but there was a distinct difference between the two groups of women.
The wives pointedly ignored the high-class hookers and mistresses, and the younger, sexier women shot superior looks at the wives.
The object of the ambitious young women’s game was to collect as many men and expensive gifts as they could during their stay, purchased at the many expensive boutiques crowded along the streets of Courchevel.
There was Chanel, Dior, Cartier, Van Cleef, Hermès, and a multitude of jewelers.
The mistresses won all the prizes during their stay, some of which they sold afterward for the money.
And the wives got to keep the men, and the lifestyle that went with them.
Many of the women in the more glamorous category would never see the men again, if they had been hired or invited just for the trip.
It was a lucrative pastime for the sexy girls, as Dominique called them to Bill, and he laughed at her descriptions, guesses, and interpretations.
The wives usually didn’t go home with any prizes or monetary reward, but they had a nice vacation with their husbands, and they had their status as respectable married women to keep them warm.
“So are you my sexy girl?” Bill asked her as he sat next to her on the couch and kissed her neck and sent a thrill rippling through her.
“Whatever you’d like,” she said, teasing him, and he suddenly wanted her desperately.
They hadn’t ordered dinner yet and he no longer cared.
She was much more appealing than any meal.
They had all the time they wanted to make love.
He didn’t have to leave, go to work, or get home.
He had two full weeks with her, which was a vast luxury to both of them, and especially precious since it was only once a year.
He led her to the bedroom then and took her clothes off while she undressed him sensuously and slowly, and they slipped between the perfectly pressed sheets on the enormous bed, and made love with all the luxury of time, and the joy of being together.
It was late when it was over, and Bill said he was ravenous.
Dominique was dozing and sated when he ordered dinner, and she woke up and put on a thick brand-new hotel terry cloth robe to join him at dinner in the living room of their suite.
She had only ordered soup and a salad, which was enough for her.
Bill had ordered a hearty meal, and leaned over and kissed her again when the waiter had left the suite after setting up the dining table.
It was always a luxurious experience being there, and a treat for both of them.
“I love making love to you,” he said in a husky voice, admiring her. Her efforts to stay in shape paid off, she had the body of a much younger woman, and he was in good shape too. He played tennis and squash at his club three times a week, which was a grueling routine.
“So can I stay the full two weeks?” she asked with a grin. “You’re not going to trade me in for one of the other sexy girls?”
“Not in a million years. I’m keeping you. What was your name again?” he teased her back.
“Brunhilde,” she said innocently, and ate her salad.
He had ordered an excellent bottle of wine to go with the meal, and they sat in front of the fire afterward, talking.
They had all the time in the world while they were there.
They had both slept on the flight so they weren’t tired, and the meal had energized them. It was one in the morning by then.
“I should call my mother,” she said, glancing at the clock on the mantel.
“It’s too late now, I’ll call her tomorrow.
She likes knowing when I’m on the same side of the world as she is.
” She had no intention of calling her daughters and intruding on them, and she didn’t expect to hear from them.
But Marie-Aurélie was older and alone, and Dominique felt it her responsibility to call her and check in.
They went to bed a little while later, after room service came to remove the plates and Bill finished his wine.
She lay peacefully in his arms as she fell asleep that night, cuddled up next to him.
When they woke up in the morning to bright sunlight pouring into the room, they could see the mountain squarely in front of them through the window.
It looked like a postcard or a photograph.
They both smiled when they saw it and Bill leaned over and kissed her.
“That’s a mighty pretty sight,” he said, “and so are you.” She got out of bed naked, and slipped the robe back on that she had left next to the bed, and she went to run a bath while he ordered breakfast. He got in the bath with her, and they got out together half an hour later when the breakfast arrived.
He had ordered a hearty breakfast since they would be skiing all day, and they were both eager to get to the slopes.
They were going to take the shuttle bus to one valley over, where they knew the trails were harder, since they’d been there before.
An hour later, they’d eaten breakfast, dressed, and had their ski equipment, which they would leave downstairs for the rest of the trip.
The first day was always exciting, to see how the snow was, and get back in the groove of skiing together.
They were a good match. He was a powerful, excellent skier, and her style had a little more finesse but she was just as competent on the slopes as he was.
They loved skiing together, which was why they came back every year.
Dominique’s children were proficient skiers too.
She had taken them skiing frequently when they were young, and got them lessons.
Tommy had been on a racing team in college.
She skied almost as fast as Bill as they completed their first run, and had time for another one before lunch.
They finished the morning with a feeling of freedom and victory.
She was wearing a white fur hat and a white parka, with black ski pants, and she looked very elegant and graceful as she skied alongside him and had no trouble keeping up with him.
He tried to race her a few times, but she was as fast as he was.
“I almost beat you on the last run,” she boasted, and laughed as she said it.
“That’s just because I let you,” he said smugly, and she pushed him gently as they took off their skis, put them in a rack outside the restaurant, and walked in.