Samantha found him three hours later, sitting with his back to the cafe, facing towards the Arc de Triomphe, his laptop open in front of him, but not actively in use as he seemed to be reading a newspaper, a glass of wine in one hand looking for all the world like he was sitting in his living room. And for all she knew, he could be. She was beginning to get the feeling that she could drop him in any city in the world and he would be as comfortable as if he was at home and even then she was still not sure where his home was.
She found herself studying him. He was broad across the shoulders as if he lifted weights or maybe swam when he was younger, but his hands were fine boned with long fingers that she had seen were quite dexterous in the way they danced across a keyboard. His waist was narrow and he seemed to have a smooth gait when he walked. His ass was well defined, something she liked, and she suspected that his legs were as well muscled as his arms were, defined, but not overly big. Attractive and unmarred by any tattoos, at least that she had seen thus far. Just looking at him made her happy and only served to highlight her loneliness.
It had been four months since she and Don had broken up. He was not in favor of her move to New York. In fact, he was so opposed to it that he had laid down an ultimatum of it or him. She had chosen the job. It was a step up and she knew that if she stayed in Des Moines, she would likely wind up pregnant and without much of a future ahead of her and she was not ready for that sort of life. She wanted to live, to see the world while she was still young. She wanted to do things and Des Moines was, to her eyes, a very small place to one who had seen what New York had to offer. After spending two hours with Sylvia, she felt, even more, that she had made the right choice, even if she was out of her element at the moment. But four months without a man in her life also meant four months without companionship and she found herself getting excited just thinking about what Alex might look like naked. She found herself smiling. She could certainly do worse than an English speaking Frenchman she thought to herself, hurrying her steps towards the table.
"Ah, bonjour mademoiselle. Ca va?" he asked, turning towards her, standing up, smiling and trying not to undress her with his eyes, despite it being something he very much wanted to do with his hands.
She felt the overwhelming desire to hug him and she gave into it, wrapping her arms around him, trapping one against his side. Alex was surprised, but willing to wrap his free hand around her, pulling her close. She looked up at him and he followed his instinct to kiss her, lightly on the lips, ready to pull away if the kiss was not returned. Samantha was momentarily surprised by the kiss, but rather than pull back, she pushed forward, her tongue seeking his mouth, her hands pulling her closer to him and holding him. For several minutes they stood locked in their embrace, hands gently rubbing bodies, lips sliding against each other, tongues fencing. The kiss ended by mutual agreement, but neither one let go of the other for several minutes more.
"Good afternoon, Alex. Is there another glass of that," she indicated the empty wine glass he had been drinking from which now was sitting empty on the table.
"Another and another and another if you wish it, but I would also suggest some cheese and bread, otherwise we will be in no shape to visit Monique, and I really must see her this evening and I must be sober or somewhat close to it or she will be in such a state in the morning that it might take me a week to calm her down, at least without heavy medication. You know how these French women are. They are almost as hard to manage as a Hollywood starlet just out of Betty Ford."
Samantha laughed and let go of him, pulling out a chair as he got the waiter's attention and ordered up the next round.
"And what would you know about managing Hollywood starlets?" she asked, taking a sip of the wine. It was cool and tasted wonderful. Light and fruity, just like his kisses. She sat and looked at him with heat in her eyes.
"That is a rather long story I am afraid," he said, taking a sip of his own.
"So? You have a date?" she said, licking her lips and running her foot up his leg
"As a matter of a fact, yes, I do," he said with a wry smile. "So, Hollywood starlets. I was working in Los Angeles, oh, three, four years ago I guess, and ran into this guy at a bar." Samantha raised her eyebrows at this. "Well, I don't play tennis, so I am more likely to run into someone in a bar, although the occasional strip joint also has shown promise," he said, drifting off slightly as the waiter brought out a small platter of cheese, some bread, and more wine.
"I can only imagine what you were doing in a strip joint," she said, slightly thrilled by the idea and wondering if she would get the opportunity to join him in one at a future date.
"I was appreciating the art," Alex said with a straight face. Samantha laughed back at his antics.
"And why do I not believe that," she said, her laughter infections as Alex could not hold back anymore and burst out laughing, finding himself more and more attracted to her with each passing moment.
After finishing their afternoon snack, the pair spent what was left of the afternoon walking along the boulevard, talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. Kisses were frequent, as were touches and hugs and by the time they walked up to a taxi stand their hands were firmly laced together.
"In you get," Alex said, opening the door for Samantha. He climbed in next to her and gave the driver the address before he sat back beside her. "Hold on, there is nothing like driving in Paris at rush hour," he said as the taxi took off at high speed making a u-turn back the way they came and racing towards the Arc de Triomphe and the large knot of cars that were going around it. Forty-five minutes later the taxi pulled into a large circular driveway fronting a large house on the outskirts of Paris. While not quite a chateau, it was certainly larger than any house Samantha had ever seen or been to before. Alex paid the fare and they climbed out starting up the stairs where they were met by what only could be described as a butler.
"Good evening, sir," he said, his British accent flawless and exactly what Samantha would have expected and seemed to be missing completely from Alex's speech patterns.
"Good evening Greg how are you this evening?" Alex asked in response, reaching out to shake the man's hand in greeting.
"I am enjoying robust health, thank you, sir. Madam is on the terrace and asks that you join her there. You will be staying for dinner?"
"Yes, we will. Greg, I would like you to meet my friend Samantha, from New York, who is visiting for a few days."
"A distinct pleasure my dear," Greg said, bowing slightly towards her. "Shall I bring you a drink?" he continued as the three of them entered the foyer. Marble, gold, glass and mahogany were her first impressions of the space along with a monstrous crystal chandelier at least twenty feet above her head. The room's proportions were immense, and this was just the entryway. She was afraid of what the rest of the house would be like and if she was properly attired to be there. Alex, it seemed, really did know some interesting people.
"Is Monique drinking?" Alex asked.
"Champagne, of course," Greg replied with a bit of a smile. Samantha was beginning to think there was more here than met the eye, but she was not sure exactly what it was.
"Of course. Two glasses should suffice then, Greg, when you get a moment, and probably another bottle. Dare I ask, but has she been cooking?" he said this last in a stage whisper and Samantha looked at him.
"No, I have managed to keep her out of the kitchen today," Greg responded in a similarly conspiratorial tone.
"Wonderful, then we will not be eating Italian tonight," he said and started laughing with Greg. Quickly he explained the joke to Samantha and they took their leave of Greg and walked across the foyer to a set of French doors on the opposite side that opened onto the terrace.
