The fall day could not be more glorious. The sunshine and warmth the last vestige before slipping back into the gray.
A weekend getaway in the City of Lights. The eventful overnight flight from the City That Never Sleeps chronicled in Belle Ch. 02. . . .
The black Mercedes sedan reached the conclusion of its forty-five minute journey from Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. The final turn down avenue Montaigne to the Hôtel Plaza Athénée.
As Alexander exited the vehicle, he exhaled with lazy contentment. There were many other luxurious Paris hotels, but something about the Plaza Athénée that felt like a home away from home.
As he made his way curbside, Alexander crumpled into the doorman. The sturdy man stood agape as the car door opened and Belle emerged. Breathtaking was an understatement.
Black stockings encasing her long, toned legs. The flash of the thigh high lace tops and the riveting color of the black patent leather red-soled stiletto heels. The bustle in the hotel entryway came motionless in silence, even if just for a second.
Alexander was fortunate to have known many beautiful women, including a few aspiring actresses and models. But none like Belle.
While the thirty year old woman was no longer regularly mistaken for a girl, an almost ethereal freshness surrounded her wherever she went. Those around her powerless to hide a return smile.
Dressed smartly in designer couture, she radiated elegance and allure. The stares of by-standers continued as Belle took Alexander's arm and proceeded inside. The click of her heels on the marble lobby floor announced their arrival.
Their suite was a jewel of French haute interior design. Richly adorned in warm, crimson and gold tones and textures.
As instructed, the doors to the quaint balcony had been left open to summon the crisp breeze. A bottle of Nicolas Feuillatte Brut Réserve Champagne awaited the couple. A perfect welcome.
Belle stepped onto the landing. The sunlight bathing her face so soothing it tamed the cacophony of Parisian traffic below.
As Alexander seated himself at the bistro table, he soaked in the vision of his sweet Belle. Her tight pencil skirt hinted at the absence of her usual thong panty. The lace tops of her thigh high stockings peeking just below. But the view was outdone by the sight of her big, full breasts straining against the ivory silk blouse. Her sheer bra unable to hide her nipples from poking through, beckoning.
