It was in the beginning of spring. I was travelling to Paris for a week, wanting to enjoy a solitary trip to this destination that was both familiar and unpredictable. I arrived in the afternoon. The first thing I felt stepping out in the street was the warmth of the sun on my hair. I touched it and in a second, a slight shiver traversed my body. I felt new and beautiful in this town that was not mine.
My hotel was situated in the vicinity of the Tuileries Gardens. I was given a room with a view over a small pedestrian place. As soon as I entered, I found the windows open and a gentle spring breeze hit my face. It was quiet and tastefully decorated in tones of light pink and ivory. A large bed was reigning in the middle, covered with white rosy sheets. The freshness of the air and the light bathing this scenery were so intoxicating that I let myself fall on the bed all dressed with a desire to laugh happily, strange as it may have seemed. I was alone and yet I did not feel lonely at all.
I stood up, got undressed and walked all naked to the bathroom. It was covered in white marble with a comfortable tub on the right facing a large mirror. I left the hot water flood in while returning to the room to close the window. As I was pulling the heavy curtains, I glanced outside and saw people strolling in the newly born sun, indifferently. I was looking at them from a distance risking at my turn to be seen, naked and smiling, at this anonymous window of a Parisian hotel.
Minutes later, I was sinking in the hot water, slightly excited by being in this new place. My body relaxed, my eyes closed, and I could scent the vanilla perfume climbing out of the water, enveloping me in an imperceptible cloud of steam. Then occurred the calmness of a moment when objects vanished in the heat, and I was swept in the aura of a sudden instant of pleasure. My fingers were sliding under water. I opened my eyes and gasped with a startle...The mirror was starring back at me.
Purified from the trip's fatigue, I got prepared to meet my friend Julian for lunch. He was an English architect living in Paris for several years. Tall, dark haired, warm grey eyes, a large forehead with locks of hair falling in disorder, he was hardly a typical forty years old man. A permanent smile tinted with shades of sadness never ceased to evoke in me the image of a resigned artist, a young one, who never realized the passing of time. He had a way of looking at you that was both intriguing and moving. The same smile was welcoming me that day, at the table of a café.
"Jane, my dear, it's been so long" said he, almost shyly, then kissed my cheek.
I smiled. He wanted me. I could read it in his eyes. He took my hand in his and. Those tender grey eyes started to dive into me, as was his habit, in search for whatever secret I did not want to reveal. I was stirred, and for a moment, I fell into believing that he was in love, and that his eyes were his way of confessing it. I stared back at him, in sign that I understood, and that I, too, could felt the same. And so the mirage took place again, as every time we met. But, an instant later I would wake up, tamed and unquiet.
Struggling between things and feelings that didn't exist, I noticed that a man seated across from us was looking at me in wonder. I didn't pay much attention to him.
An hour later we were out. Julian took me in his arms and kissed me. We started walking.
"Jane, let's run away together!" he whispered.
"Darling, if only you meant it, but we both know better, don't we", I answered calmly.
He smiled at me then. I hated that smile that cynically gave me confirmation of what I would have preferred to be a wrong assumption.
"Let me enjoy you then, while you are here" he offered.
We returned to my hotel room. Patiently, he started to undress me. I was standing at the bottom of the bed. I let him do, without moving. He unbuttoned my shirt. His eyes were shining with impatience. His hands gripped my shoulders, caressing down my arms, and my waist. Suddenly, he turned me around, unzipped my skirt, and pushed it at my feet. I could now feel his hands cupping my ass, and then going up my back, in a firm massage. I felt him approach me from behind; the warmth emanated from his body. One hand reached to my throat and caressed it, gently pressing on it. I gasped.
While I was facing the wall, Julian was slowly taking possession of me. He was still dressed. He unhooked my bra and, as my gasps would accelerate, he grabbed my breasts, massaging them, taking the nipples between his fingers and teasing them. A hand strayed along my body and delicately lowered my panties up to my knees. I was now almost naked, with only my black stockings on, and I was shaking in anticipation.
