On the ride from the Bois de Vincennes back into Central Paris, Runa and we detour through an old residential neighborhood that somehow eluded Haussmann's 19th-century wrecking ball. We stop at a cafe with a Belle-Epoch facade and Art Nouveau lettering.
"Can you imagine?" I ask as we sip cafe expresso. "Cezanne could have sat here? Or Gauguin? or even van Gogh?"
"Jason," Runa says, looking at me like I've just gone around the bend. "With 40,000 cafes in Paris, you think those guys hung out here because it has a pretty sign?"
Harsh. But true. Runa may be blond, innocent and painfully beautiful. But sometimes she's more logical than Mr. Spock.
The text message saves me from further embarrassment. It's from Violet, who, just in case I had forgotten her own nubile beauty, includes a selfie of herself in a semi-transparent blouse standing on the Charles Bridge in Prague at sunset.
"Remember me handsome? I'm getting into the swing of things here. But I miss your big hazel eyes, and other things. And remember that Skype address I gave you? How about using it tonight at 23:00?
"And, yes, you can bring that pretty sweetie you've found. (It's been two days, of course you've hooked up by now.) I'm not sure I mentioned it, but I'm the kind of girl who appreciate girls the way boys do! XOXO Violet."
"Let's see if we like the same things in a woman?" I text back.
"OK! You start," Violets responds.
"Whip smart and logical?" I text.
"Definitely," Violet replies.
"Yup," I concur, "Tan lines or not?"
"Tan lines are so sexy."
"Agree! Natural or shaved?"
"Shaved, except maybe for natural blondes."
"Yup! Ideal age and dress size."
"Mmm... 19 or 20. Size six."
"Check. Extrovert or introvert?"
"Doesn't matter."
"OK," I text. "I think I have a candidate. Let me ask."
I pass the phone to Runa who studies the text message thread.
"I think she is saying she wants to have cam sex with you tonight at 23:00," Runa says.
"Yes. But not just me. With us. You're invited too."
After this afternoon in the Bois, I know one thing. Runa won't be shocked. If anything, watching and being watched made her even more aroused.
"Is she nice, this Violet?" Runa asks.
"Very nice. And very sexy," I reply.
Runa thinks it over for a moment, then pulls out her phone. After a brief conversation in Norwegian, she turns to me. "Let's do it. And maybe we have surprise for this sexy Violet."
"What's that?" I ask.
"Raven and Robert," she says with a mischievous grin. "They want to join."
I put my arm around Runa, hold my phone at arm's length and take a selfie of the two us. "C U @ 23:00," I type. "Jason & Runa."
"This is going to be interesting," I tell Runa, draining the last drop of expresso .
"You have no idea," Runa answers with smug smile.
As soon as we return to HIJ, Robert, the hostel clerk who has been hanging with Raven, Runa's Norwegian "Twin," finds me as I'm locking up the bikes.
"So, it's going well with Runa?" he asks, indirectly reminding me that I had him to thank for meeting the Twins in the first place.
"Very well," I say with a conspiratorial smile.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," I tell him. "I have no secrets."
"Good... Is Runa?" he asks, making a certain obscene gesture with his fingers.
"A virgin? Yes, she is."
"Ah, Raven also," he sighs dramatically, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"So what," I tell him. "There's more than one way to scratch an itch. I thought the French were famous for inventing most of them."
This gets a laugh from Robert. "Do you always see the glass as half full?" he asks with a grin.
"As long as I have fingers to grab it, and a tongue to drink with," I say, making an obscene gesture of my own.
"Such an optimist," he says, putting his arm around my shoulders. "No wonder the Twins like you. Which reminds me, what about this adventure tonight?"
"The Skype session?"
"Exactly! Have you thought about where it can be done?"
Actually, I hadn't. And I could see his point. Where could the four of us find enough privacy, not to mention WiFi bandwidth, for cam sex? "I see what you mean," I concede.
"I think I have a solution," Robert says. "Follow me."
We climb three flights of stairs to the least desirable floor of the hostel. The air is hot and sticky and the ceiling so low we stoop. After a couple of twists and turns along a narrow corridor, we come to a dead end at some kind of service closet.
Robert pulls out his key chain and unlocks the door. Inside is a spiral staircase that emerges into a small glass pavilion built into a valley between chimneys.
"What is this?" I ask.
"The yoga room," Robert says, pointing to a half-a-dozen rolled yoga mats. "Hasn't been used for years. Not many visitors to Paris want to spend their time practicing Downward Dog."
In the distance, Isee the spires of Notre Dame and the conical slate roof of the Conciergerie where Marie Antoinette spent her final days. I also notice something hanging in the center of the room, a simple sheet of heavy cardboard with a cut out about the size of iPad screen. Robert sees me looking and grabs a yoga mat that he unrolls directly beneath the cardboard platform.
"It's close enough that we can watch an iPad lying on our backs," he tells me. "But far enough away that the camera can view four people from their heads to their knees."
"Wow," I say, "You're really into this, Robert."
"It's the girls, my friend," he whispers. "When's the last time you were with two beautiful, naked and insanely hot Norwegian chicks?"
"Robert," I say. "I totally see your point."
***
The four of us dine at the kind of place that only locals like Robert seem to know about. There are prostitutes lurking in doorways up and down the street, but inside Chez Jules we have an exquisitely prepared three-course meal for 15€ apiece, accompanied by what eventually amounts to six bottles of good wine at 6€ each.
Everyone's in a celebratory mood, and after the first three bottles are drained, Raven leans forward and asks me about my "first-time." I'm pretty sure she's not talking about my first touchdown reception or, even the night I lost my virginity to a thirty-something single mom. She wants to know about my first cam sex.
After I've described my first Omegle encounter, Robert tells us about how a Skype call to a girl from Lyon he'd met at a student conference became a hot mutual masturbation session.
Then Runa tells her story. It's a guy from school she's been crushing on. He cam calls every night after everyone is asleep. He's always sitting naked at a desk, making funny movements just out of her view. She eventually succumbs to his pleas to show herself. After removing her panties on cam, she becomes so excited they cum together.
It's Raven's story, however, that has us all enthralled. And aroused. Raven's digital paintings of heroines from Nordic mythology have attracted several hundred followers on one of the big international art sites. One is a British woman called Debby who writes long, flattering reviews.
"I'm at the stage where I'm very insecure about everything. My appearance, my sexuality, even my art. At the same time I am struggling to learn English," Raven explains. "Along comes this English-speaking girl who praises my paintings and sends me IMs saying things like, 'How is my sexy Nordic goddess this morning?' It's exciting, empowering, and very seductive."
Raven pauses for a sip of wine. I realize we are all hanging on her every word.
"When Debby says she knows a video chat site where we can hear and see each other, just the idea of it makes me all tingly and excited. I make a plan to meet Debby online when no one will be home.
"I take care with my makeup and clothes, like I'm going on this big date. When I see Debby for the first time, it's a little shocking. She's a plump dyke with short blond hair, tattoos down her arms and a nose piercing. But her voice is clear and sweet and she has kind brown eyes."
"Did you feel like she had some kind of power... some sort of control over you?" Robert asks.
"Completely. She praises my work. Not in stupid shallow ways, but thoughtful comments that show she understands. And she always flatters me, saying I'm the most beautiful artist she knows, that she loves my smile, wishes she had my figure."
"But it's just online bullshit," I blurt out.
"Of course, Jason." The way she smiles at me is eerie. I see so much of Runa in the smile, but where Runa radiates innocence, Raven projects worldliness. "I'm a little farm girl with big dreams. Debby's hip and smart. She lives in London. I want to believe because her fantasy of me as talented, beautiful and sexy is my fantasy as well."
I nod, acknowledging Raven's candor. "My aunt always said, 'There's no deception more powerful that self-deception. It's the foundation of all religion and politics,'" I tell them.
"So, what happened?" Robert asks.
"We're seeing and hearing each other for the first time and she keeps flattering my body, even asks me to stand up and turn around..."
"Hey, guys!" Runa interrupts. "Is anybody keeping track of the time?"
"Shit!" I swear, looking at my phone screen. It's almost 23:00.
"Sorry, Raven," Robert says, jumping up from the table, "I'll get the bill."
