For All the Love in Paris

"Oh my...I thought you were a vampire!! I mean, I didn't rationally think that you were a vampire, but I had convinced myself that you are."

He laughed quietly, then covered his rose-colored lips with a slender hand. I fought the urge to ask him to open his mouth again so I could hunt for unusually pointy teeth. He caught me looking at him, and his eyes glittered a fierce blue with amusement and something I couldn't identify.

"I wish the real world were that exciting. But nope, not a vampire. Sorry to disappoint."

I took this new bit of information as seamlessly as I could muster, straining my hazy brain to comprehend what he had been telling me.

I stepped into my bedroom as James continued talking. I had to get out of these clothes.

"...and so they paid me fifty thousand euros to replace it with the fake. I had never been the planter before, usually my task was much more menial, but they doubled the price. And when I still refused they threatened my life. I gave in after that."

I laid down on the bed and pulled my pants off, opting instead for a much more forgiving pair of sweats.

"Grey, are you even listening to me? I am openly confessing to a very high dollar crime here, and you're struggling to shove your cock into your pants."

I blushed violently and rolled off the bed. How had he seen that??

"Hey, you know, you should really consider relocating that mirror. But if you want to take your shirt off now, you can just come in here. I won't bite."

"So basically," I mumbled through a t-shirt I was yanking over my head, "you're a criminal. You aided a criminal. That's a crime. You conspired with an art thief."

"Whoa now," James sputtered, "I did not conspire with anybody to do anything. I was the innocent moron who was embarrassingly strung along by a very powerful man."

I frowned subconsciously as my mind caught up with his words. I was beginning to understand. He was more or less innocent.

"...and replace it with a more modern version. Sure, this version was maybe not as beautiful and sacred as the original, but this wasn't entirely my fault. I just planted it."

Mmm-hmm. James was indeed the most romanticized of all criminals incarnate; he was an art thief. That just served to reinforce my thought of his perfection. Unbelievably handsome, charmingly suave, and riddled with bad.

He explained away my inhibitions about conversing with the devil, whom my sneaky subconscious had been convinced was seducing me. And when he asked why I stayed away for four long weeks, I answered truthfully that I had no desire to date a vampire, and I didn't want to be eaten before or after sex, no matter how amazingly endowed he happened to be. Which, judging from the little tent rising in his pants, was very endowed. I wanted more than anything to see it for myself. He smiled that lovely smile of his and relaxed into my sofa. A part of my brain sighed with contentment as I noticed how at ease he looked. As though I had bought the couch with him as a permanent fixture.

Oh no, this wasn't good. I could not be falling for him. I barely knew him! Why did I want to kiss him so badly? Why did I care that he had chosen tea over coffee? I debated asking him to stay the night, telling him I could help him relax a little more.

"I didn't break in, I didn't cause any damage, all I did was remove a priceless artifact from the grimy hands of the public and put in its place a more new, improved form. It's better this way. That library didn't know what they had."

"So this book I've got here, what is it?" I asked stupidly, dreading the answer.

"That's the fake." he said simply.

I hung my head, trying in vain to mask my expression from him. I knew I shouldn't have asked. This man had stolen a book worth an insane amount of...

"How much was that book, the original, worth?"

James got up and maneuvered around the coffee table, effectively avoiding my question and gaze. He glanced at the front door, as though he was expecting someone to come crashing through the frame at any minute, then started toying with the hem on his shirt. He still wouldn't speak. I didn't want to press him, so I just sat patiently and watched. He bit his full bottom lip and scratched his nose, ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly, and checked his watch about seven times.

"I don't want to keep you," I began uncertainly, "you don't owe me anything. Don't feel as though you do. I'm just trying to understand."

He wouldn't make eye contact, and kept glancing at the door. What was he hiding?

"Maybe it is better if I go. I shouldn't have involved you. I should have left you alone. You could get into trouble."

"Grey, listen to me, these people I've associated with, they're dangerous. Very, very dangerous. Please don't do anything rash, like visit the police. If you visit the police, they'll visit you. Oh God, they probably know I'm here right now! I'm going to fix this. I promise you, I'm going to make this right."

He wouldn't stop to listen to what I was saying. He paced from the end of the hallway to the kitchen, pausing occasionally at the front window to shove my poor curtains out of the way and beat them back into place almost immediately. He was beginning to scare me. I didn't want any trouble, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want him.

"...would you listen? I'm telling you that it's going to be okay. I'm going to help you. Have you heard me? I'm going to help."

I raised my voice, not quite yelling, but definitely not using my inside-voice either.

"Jay, I'm going to help you."

"No, you're not."

He left in a hurry then, pulling his hood over his coal black hair while running out the door. I could hear his footsteps receding down the walkway. He was gone. I stood stunned next to the window for what felt like hours, then walked on wobbly legs to the sofa, where I let myself fall backwards. I rolled over so that my face was buried in the fabric, and lay there with my thoughts as company.

I couldn't fathom just how much my life had changed in the past four weeks. I had met a man, managed to fall in love with him, discovered his passion for antiquities, and then watched helplessly as he rushed his way out of my life. I refused to let him go. Before sleep overcame me I resolved to find him and help him if I could. Maybe I could even protect him.

******************

I returned to the library as soon as its locks were turned, determined to find more about James. I held the door open for a father leading a tipsy toddler, then headed for the first employee I saw. I asked him about James, but I didn't even know his last name. Upon my description though, the polite employee quietly informed me that James had quit his job and cleaned out his locker. I was surprised such an ancient establishment had lockers. I figured the employees were told to shove their shit in a hole in the wall. I thanked him and made my way to the front desk, slipping past idling readers and engaging in only minimal conversation. The head librarian that James had warned me about stood behind the mahogany, furiously stamping innocent dusty covers with due dates.

I started to speak and paused to clear my throat when I noticed she hadn't stopped stamping. The grumpy old woman looked up at me, squinting to see my face. She fumbled around for something, then forced a pair of horribly scratched horn-rimmed glasses over her remarkable nose.

"Yesss, may I help you?"

"I'd like to get some information on one of your employees."

"Arrre you making a complaint orrr..." she droned.

Now thoroughly exasperated, I said, "No, no, I'm just looking for some information. Can you help me find it, please?"

She gestured with a claw-hand for me to follow and started down a long hallway I hadn't noticed before just to the left of the massive desk. Her orthopedic shoes squeaked quietly with each step. I followed obediently, wondering what I had gotten myself into. She turned abruptly onto another hallway then took a sharp right into a dark room that could only have been a converted janitors' closet. Abstract paintings hung precariously on the cashew colored walls, and sunlight filtered in through a tiny slit of a window high above the doorway. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of sufficient light I took in the single desk in the center of the room. Dusty and rickety, it was saddled with a computer boasting more years than my lovely librarian guide. There wasn't even a chair. I turned to thank the head dinosaur, only to find myself alone in the room. Creepy.

I walked to the desk to hunt for an On button. It was hiding on the back of the monitor, and it glowed a dull orange after I slammed my thumb into it. Though it sounded like an airplane taking off, it ran through its processes fairly quickly and opened to a desktop revealing only one icon, titled 'Employee Info'.

I clicked hurriedly and started a search for a current employee named James. It hummed for a second, then showed 'No Results' printed clearly across the top of the screen. I sat for a moment before I recalled what the man I had spoken to earlier said. James had quit. He wouldn't be listed under the current employees. I opened a new search and typed in 'James' a second time. There were four results. I pulled up a profile picture for each employee, then giggled excitedly when his eyes stared back at me through the pixels.

His full name was Frederick Jameson LaMontagne. Whew, what a mouthful. How many syllables was that? I chuckled as I imagined a little James trying to write all that in kindergarten. I couldn't wait to call him Freddie. I skimmed down the log to find that his home address had been left blank. Sighing at what seemed like another dead end, I blinked twice and saw a link at the base of the page. I clicked on it. The computer beeped twice and showed a new page with a simple black background and white text.

There was an address for another library James had recently worked at on the other side of Paris called the Library of Philosophy. From the pictures on the site, it wasn't so much a library as a large bookstore. I copied down the address onto my forearm with a pen I found beneath the keyboard and left in a rush.

When I got home I ran into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes to throw them into the laundry hamper. I put a pot of water on to boil then hurried back to the bathroom. The water was hot when I stepped under it, and I quickly soaped up and washed off. My dick stood at attention, begging for a hand. I seriously considered it, then decided I really didn't have any time to spare. I forced the rusty faucet off and bounded into the kitchen still dripping. The pot of water was boiling as I dumped some petrified noodles in and stirred, hoping that it might be a little edible as I read the expiration date on the package.

I left it to cool and slid into the bedroom. Still entirely naked, I sank to my knees and dug through my closet for luggage, positioning myself with my ass displayed proudly in the air. I always did like wandering around nude. And I was so horny. I found a dark red bag at the back complete with wheels and handles, and I paused to look at myself in the mirror as I stood and rifled through the bag. My eyes had dark half-circles under them, and my cheeks were still awfully hollow. My clear skin was scattered with the usual freckles across my nose, but I looked more pale and sickly than I did when I had my wisdom teeth removed. I was still thin, sure, and I was toned at least a little. My height was the same, I just looked lankier than ever before. Vivienne used to tell me I had a sort of haunted look going for me, with my hollow face and dark eyes.

I was woken from my stupor by the sound of water boiling over. I thought I had turned the heat off. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel, then sloshed the overcooked noodles into a bowl to cool. I ransacked the cabinets for a clean glass, then filled it with water from the tap and sat down with the last clean fork in the drawer. My cock glared at me angrily, a purple vein throbbing on its shaft. I took a bite then stood and put the bowl in the sink. The noodles were overdone and I needed to get off before my dick beat me to death. I stood beside the table and began to stroke. The thought that anyone could gaze into my window and see me jerking off excited me even more. All I needed to do was think of sex...

***************

Vivienne sauntered into the room naked. She was as stunning as ever, eyes lined in black and caramel skin set off by her dark hair pulled into a sleek chignon. She sat down at the foot of the bed and leaned back, all the while licking her lips in what she thought was a seductive manner. Turning to face me, she spread her long model legs apart to expose herself, then yawned innocently as she began to finger furiously. Her hands slapped loudly against her pert nipples, and she suddenly shoved two fingers in and moaned loud enough to wake the dead. My voice taking on that of a disapproving father, I said

"Vivienne, not now. I'm working. Later, alright?"

"Greyson, darling, come make love to me. I know you want to. Put that infernal laptop away and devour me."

Eww. I didn't budge.

"Greyson, I won't beg you. Or maybe I will. Pleassse?"

I sighed dramatically and snapped my laptop shut. She flew towards me, her breasts jiggling. I cautiously put one hand on her breast and felt her heart hammering away on the other side. I almost felt sorry for her. She really did want me, and I did not want her at all. Standing up, I pulled the covers from the bed to the floor. There was something about having sex with her on the bed. I just hated it. I arranged what I thought might be a semi-comfortable love nest. I only ever had sex with Vivienne in bed when I was drunk.

She flicked the lights off and started to unfasten my slacks from behind. I ripped my shirt off in exasperation expertly disguised as desire and lowered my body to the floor. She stood. I beckoned her closer. Still, she stood.

"Vivienne, stop playing hard to get. You're the one who wanted this."

"I'm not playing hard to get."

She spread her legs apart and looked down at me between them, trying to be sexy.

"I was hoping that you would, you know..."

"What??! I'm not going to do that. That's um, I just don't want to yet."

She shot me an irritated look and sat down beside me. I positioned myself and closed my eyes. She sighed contentedly and relaxed beneath me. I pushed my way in with a single thrust. Vivienne didn't like lube, but she was always more than wet enough to compensate. Squeezing my eyes closed, I increased my pace, shoving my way in and out hurriedly. I hated having sex with her. I hated the way she moaned and I hated seeing her satisfied face. I opened my eyes when I heard her go quiet, then gasped in surprise when James's bright blue eyes returned my gaze. His mouth was open, lips slightly swollen, and he breathed deeply and whispered my name in a gloriously needy voice.

"Grey, more. Give it to me. Harder, more. Grey."

*****************

I shot my load into the back of the sofa. I rubbed my cum off with a paper towel and rushed back to my room, suddenly uncomfortable and ashamed of my nudity. I should probably take another shower, but I just didn't have time. I meticulously went through each drawer, packing only what I thought I'd need. Several pairs of skimpy underwear and two pairs of nice jeans later, I threw in three cardigans. two sweaters, and four shirts. I followed that with some socks and a pair of brown boots. I took what I usually used from the bathroom, thus adding shampoo, toothpaste, a razor, and a toothbrush into the bag. After jamming in a light jacket I zipped the suitcase closed.

I carefully wrapped "The Complete Chronicles of the Deviant Virgin" in two pillowcases and tucked it into a smaller pocket just inside the first compartment of the suitcase. I didn't want anything to happen to it, but I didn't want anyone to see it either.

The front compartments were filled with books and maps, and I wrestled my way into some jeans and a thin sweater, then stepped into my loafers. I grabbed my phone and the charger, pausing to shove it into the cramped bag, then slipped out the front door, keys in hand.

I hailed a lucky cab two blocks down and gave him directions to the bookstore. He looked back at me, eyebrows creeping into his hairline.

"You sure, buddy? That's a long ways."

"I'm sure, and I can pay for it. Please though, do hurry."

"Alright, you're the boss."

I leaned back in my seat. If I had it figured correctly, and if we missed traffic, I could be there in three hours. I fell asleep quickly, plagued by dreams of James, of me holding him. If I didn't find this guy I might as well join the nearest monastery and swear myself into a life of celibacy. I couldn't fathom why I relied on the thought of him as much as I did. It was hard for me to accept that I knew where he was somehow, without really knowing him at all. But I knew this bookstore could help me find him, although I didn't expect it to be easy.