Tessie

Chapter 1

It happened in Paris, more than a few years ago when I was young and tramping around Europe. They call Paris the City of Lights, they should call it the City of Whores; the place is absolutely infested with streetwalkers. Most of them are not bad, however. Not bad at all.

Practically within the shadow of Notre Dame where I was confronted by a pair of young girls. "Venez avec nous! Nous sommes les meilleurs en tout de Paris!" said one -

Come with us! We're the best in all of Paris!

"Et le meilleur marché!" added her friend -

And the cheapest!

She opened her coat to advertise her wares, as it were, and I was treated to a glimpse of luxurious white lacy underthings; shapely thighs encased in lace topped thigh-high stockings, the rounded tops of young breasts spilling over the cups of her brassiere.

I laughed to myself, shook my head and kept walking. A moment later someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind and a woman's soft voice offered, "Excuse mois, monsieur, voulez-vous un tour bon marché?" I whirled around and there was a good-looking strawberry blonde, taller than your usual Parisienne, wider in the shoulders. I didn't recognize her at first but she knew me - her jaw practically dropped. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed in perfect American English, "John Linnane!"

It's a small world. I'm sure I looked as startled as I felt; it was Tessie, Tessie St. Michel, a girl I went to high school with. A very good-looking girl, I always thought Tessie was the most beautiful girl in the whole school, but for some reason she never seemed to have a boyfriend.

We were never sweethearts, but we had been very close. It wasn't that I didn't have my share of sweethearts, or that I wouldn't have gone with Tessie; it's just that it never came to be. Instead we were close friends, she was the one with whom I shared the secrets of my soul. Our families were close; she was almost like a sister. We used to meet in the every morning in the school library - Tessie, another girl named Julia, and myself - and catch up on homework, discuss life.

Now here she was propositioning me on a Parisian street, dressed in a short black leather miniskirt – a VERY short black leather miniskirt, cut right up to the cunt - and a tight knit white top cut so low it left almost nothing to the imagination. She wore a long, navy blue coat that practically came to her ankles and a long silk scarf in reds and purples, tied tight about her neck like a sort of choker, flowing off to the side; it was a great look. The stockings and garters were what really set it off, of course.

Tessie had developed into a striking beauty. Her long blonde hair was done up, which seemed to lend her a sophisticated air. Her makeup was simple. Tessie never needed much, with her coloring and her jade green eyes. There was something else about her; a certain hardness, a streetwise toughness that I detected about her eyes. While Tessie seemed somewhat disconcerted, I managed to quickly collect my wits. "Shall we get a cup of coffee?" I asked, indicating a nearby café. Tessie nodded; it seemed the best course of action.

We were seated and served, then her story came out. "I came over here to study at the Sorbonne," she began. "I dropped out after my first year, but stayed until the middle of my second year, cashing in my classes and partying. I couldn't go home after wasting all my parent's money... ...I love Paris, so I stayed." Tessie looked into her coffee, then looked up at me again. "How good's your French?" she asked.

"Not very."

"Do you know what I asked you, back there in the street?"

"You asked me would I like a cheap ride." My French wasn't that bad.

There was a pause. "I strike up friendships..." she said wistfully, looking away as she said it.

"And what about you?" she asked, changing the subject. I told her. "I always pegged you for an adventurer, John," she said with a wry smile.

The afternoon wore on. When I suggested something to eat Tessie led me to a nice restaurant and it became like a date. I ordered in my bad French and she translated to the waiter. We ate a seafood pasta dish that was absolutely scrumptious, washed down with a nice Chablis. It was a pleasant dining experience, we reminisced, Tessie smiled at some of our memories.

We dallied over our dessert and coffee; the wait staff did not pressure us to move on. The bill was finally presented and I paid it, but when I suggested, "Shall we go to my hotel?" Tessie gave me a very strange look, as if it was some kind of taboo; to retain the services of a prostitute who happens to be a close friend of the family.

"I guess I thought..." she said quietly, her voice trailing off. When I raised an eyebrow, she continued, "...you would be different than the others."

"Different in what way? You're a beautiful woman, Tessie. Any man would want to be with you," I offered.

The odds that we'd run into each other here, thousands of miles from home, were probably one in a million, one in a bazillion that she could be had for a price. Why should that which any man in Paris could have be off limits to me? As far as I was concerned, this was an opportunity to be taken advantage of, nothing more. Still, there was a strange sort of vibe going down.

When Tessie looked up she had her mischievous smile going, like the time I brought a copy of Playboy into the school library and Tessie and her girlfriends poured over it together with me. "Okay, I'll go with you, John." She shrugged. "I always wondered what it would be like, anyway."

It was cold outside in the street. As we walked arm in arm, Tessie snuggled close to me, holding tight. Passersby would have thought us lovers.

I led her up the stairs at my pension to the shoebox that was my room. The already tiny room was decreased by the angle of the roof, which cut down on the size, but there was a little antechamber with a table and a couple of chairs, a double bed in the main room, and even a tiny bathroom; there was no communal facility to go to down the hallway, thank God.

I took Tessie's coat and hung it up. She turned; she was as beautiful as ever. Her tight outfit hugged her curves; she was a study in breasts and thighs. "Is there anything to drink?" she asked.

"I've got some cognac." I found some glasses. We drank standing up; when we clinked glasses Tessie knocking hers back and drained it. I refilled the glasses, then switched on the TV for some kind of distraction. It was some kind of show about making sausages. I changed the channel. Now, some sort of rock and roll version of the can-can; a group of dancing girls leaning back with their skirts up, legs wide open, panty covered crotches on display. I chuckled, shaking my head. "The French..."

"I'm telling you," Tessie agreed. She offered a toast, "To the French!"

"Vive la France!" I replied.

"Yeah," she said. "Vive la fucking France!"

We clinked glasses, Tessie knocked hers back again.

"Do you want to undress me?" she offered, thrusting her chest forward.

"Undress for me," I replied, sitting down to enjoy the show.