PART 1.
The restaurant was slowly clearing out. I had been waiting for her for over three hours.
"Stood up again," I thought.
I had three glasses of white wine, and the appetizers I had ordered were left untouched. I didn't feel like eating. Actually, I wanted to get drunk. But not here, not at this place, the wine alone was going to set me back about 30 euros. I was hoping to impress her. Her. Celine. We had been trying to make this work. It seemed like we were always trying. What is the expression the yanks like, 'A for effort'? It was something like that.
We didn't work. The sex was amazing! But a relationship can't exist on that alone.
In truth, she had texted me. She wrote an hour before we were set to meet and said, 'I'm sorry, I can't do this.' But I was stubborn. Yes, that's me, an adamant Frenchman. That's what she liked to call me. When it came to pleasure, she wanted it, "my unyielding Frenchman!" she would call me. I could satisfy her over and over again. That is when stubbornness worked; that is when we were a match.
She liked it - a lot. So when she would stay at my place, I would run to the bakery and buy her fresh croissants. Then, I would tiptoe out and sneak back in. I'd make my famous coffee, adding my signature cardamon seed for flavor, then take the coffee and croissant to her. She would be wrapped up, breathing gently and rhythmically, her breasts barely peaking out of the covers. Finally, I'd strip down, still watching her, getting harder just breathing in smell, inhaling the scent from the previous night's intense passion - sweat and cum.
"Bonjour, ma belle!' I'd say, tugging down the cover just a little to expose more of her pink nipples. She'd moan slightly, a soft exhalation that'd make me even harder.
"Babe, good morning." I loved the word 'babe.' It was so American, or so I thought. At first, I thought it seemed immature, like something from a teenage series straight from Hollywood. But she was anything but immature. On the contrary, she was a publishing agent living in Paris and working for "The House Above," an agency with several big-name authors. Moreover, she had graduated from Harvard at the top of her class. Doubled majored in international relationships and Germanic studies and was absurdly well-traveled.
This was my favorite part of our mornings together. Our schedules permitted us a few days each week to have this time together; I drank in every second of it!
She stretched; as her arms lifted above her head, the rest of the heavy comforter fell away from her beautiful, well-formed breasts. I buried my face into her neck and began gently kissing her. She was warm soft. She released a gentle sigh, a soft moan. I nibbled her ear, then whispered "bonjour," she responded, in the cutest accent that always drove me wild, "bonjour."
"I'm going to run to the bathroom," she said.
