My Only Wish (Cette Année)
This is a sequel to my '
All I Want for Christmas C'est Toi
' . I recommend that you read that first, as this story heavily references the events in Lyon that first bring the main characters together, as well as establishing their connection.
If you choose to skip reading the first part, it's good to keep the following in mind: The story follows Julie, a waiter at the prestigious Hotel-Dieu in Lyon, and a hotel guest visiting from London that she first met at work over Christmas - a very beautiful woman Julie calls 'Madame'.
'All I want...' takes place in Lyon over the course of 48 hours, but 'My Only Wish...' stretches over two years, skipping between Julie's and Madame's points of view in Lyon and London. Don't let the jumps throw you.
I didn't originally intend 'All I Want...' to have a sequel, but the characters and their chemistry just wouldn't leave me alone. There was a story there to be told, so here is my version of it.
Big thanks to the great @
SugarStorm
for Beta reading this and picking up all the things that I'd missed. As usual, all the wrong or strange bits I decided to keep are mine, not theirs. I heartily recommend that you check out their stories.
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+++++
Madame
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Lyon, Boxing Day morning.
Her quiet, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room.
Steady. Deep.
A teasing ray of sunlight sneaked between the curtains into my room at the Hotel-Dieu de Lyon, kissing her pale shoulder, playing in the pink coloured streaks in her hair.
I lay perfectly still and traced the lines of the small tattoo at the nape of her neck with my eyes. A little bird, wings spread in flight, drawn in simple outlines. It was beautiful, like her.
I drank in her warmth, and the slight rise and fall of her chest under my hand, possessively draped over her body. The simple touch of her soft skin to mine felt grounding, felt right. Her ass nestled back into my hips, her back against my breasts, the back of her thighs touching the front of mine.
Close. Connected.
It was a feeling I desperately craved after too many years lacking. A feeling I hadn't been expecting to find. At least, not here. And it wasn't just physical.
I felt... whole.
My eyes wandered to where her neck met her pale shoulder, where yesterday's bite mark was starting to bruise. The red teeth marks slowly turning blueish. There were more, on her breasts, her ass. I couldn't help feeling ashamed of having given her those but also aroused at having given pleasure with pain so freely accepted. Yearned for.
Another feeling I hadn't expected to find here.
I bent my head to her shoulder and lightly kissed the bruise.
She slept in my arms. Still, peaceful. Trusting.
I wished I could stay with her like that.
I wished I wasn't leaving.
---
The security check line at Lyon-Saint-Exupéry was long and slow going. Families travelling home after the holidays in France, children crying, parents fudding with their clothes and bags, people fishing out their laptops and iPads and trying to make heavy skiing coats fit in the plastic screening containers. The French security officers boringly reciting the usual mantra of liquids and electronics.
She was on my mind as I waited. Her sapphire blue eyes looking in mine as she pulled away from our goodbye kiss, happy for our time together, sad that it was over. The sway of her sexy ass as she hurried away down the corridor, hoping not to be seen. That last flash of the pink streaks in her dirty blonde ponytail as she disappeared around the corner towards the elevators.
I wished I could stay.
But it wasn't to be.
I was going back to London, back to my daughter. Back to my life.
Her life was here, in France.
It had been a magical two nights.
A Christmas miracle.
But as the plane rose towards the skies, and I watched Lyon fall away, her last words echoed in my mind.
"
Au revoir madame. Au revoir... mon amour.
"
Until we meet again, my love.
---
London, Boxing Day evening.
Edward opened the door with a smile.
"Hey, happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas Ed."
"How was Lyon?"
"It was surprisingly nice, better than I expected really. A bit strange being there by myself, but all in all it was great. It's a beautiful city."
"That's good to hear, Sophie was a bit worried you'd be miserable on your own." He turned towards the kitchen.
"Fancy a cuppa? She's getting her stuff together."
"Yes please."
I took off my coat and followed him. It was still strange coming to this house as a guest, having lived in it for six years as a family. I reached for a mug in the cupboard and held it out for Ed to pour. He passed me the sugar.
"So how was your Christmas then? Everything good?"
"Yes, I think so. Mother joined us, I think Sophie was happy all things considered."
He looked at his mug.
"It's a little strange of course... for all of us. Different."
I knew what he meant.
"Yeah, I know."
We sipped our tea in silence.
"I wanted to thank you, for... you know... letting me have Christmas."
He had a sincere look in his eyes.
"It means a lot."
"It's not a question of letting, Ed, she's your daughter, and you love her. I know that. It was an easy decision."
"Yeah, well, I'm just saying I appreciate it. Thanks."
"Mum!"
I was suddenly wrapped up in an octopus hug from behind. When it loosened a bit, I turned around and hugged her back.
"Happy Christmas Mum!"
Sophie's face glowed with a big smile.
"Happy Christmas sweetheart, oh, it's good to hold you!"
"Did you open your present?"
"No, I left it at home because I want to open it with you tonight."
"Oh." She had a second of disappointment and then the smile was back on.
"Even better! Then I get to watch your face when you open it."
"You're making me curious now, baby. What did you get me?"
"No, not telling!"
"Well let's get home then so I can open it!"
She let go and jumped out to the hall to put her shoes on.
Ed looked amused. I gave him a pointed look.
"You know what it is, don't you?"
He raised his hands in surrender.
"Oh no, put the thumb screws back in your purse, you won't get a squeak out of me!"
I laughed and put down the mug and gave him a peck on the cheek on my way to the hall.
"See you after New Year's, Ed."
Sophie hugged her dad goodbye, carried her bag down the stairs and threw it on the back seat of the Audi, then sat herself in the front. We waved as we pulled away towards Kensington.
"You came straight from the airport? Did you have a good time in Lyon? Was the food nice? How is Christmas in France?"
"One question at a time! Did you have sugar for breakfast?"
She laughed.
"No, I'm just happy to see you. I missed you. It was weird having Christmas without you."
"Me too honey, I missed you too. But I was fine. You saw the hotel; I was pampered in luxury the whole time."
Many kinds of delicious luxury.
"It looked amazing, was it like an old French palace or something?"
"I thought so, but it's actually an old hospital. Oh, and the food was to die for. So good."
"Maybe we could go there for summer holidays sometime, together."
"Yeah, maybe."
In my mind, I was back there, in her arms, the summer sun playing in her pink streaked hair.
---
The divorce was an amicable one. Edward knew our marriage was over long before I told him. Ours wasn't a love story for the ages. Getting pregnant at 18, just three months into a loosely defined relationship, wasn't a great foundation for a happily ever after.
We got married a year after Sophie was born, and at first, we were happy. Ed's parents were very well off, and they provided us with a small flat and a good job for him in the family firm.
My own family didn't have much in ways of money, but love aplenty, and they helped in every way that they could. Sophie was loved and we didn't want for anything. My mum looked after Sophie when I went back to university to finish my design degree at Goldsmiths and wouldn't hear of us getting a nanny for her precious granddaughter. We were lucky, surrounded by people who loved and cared for us.
But as the years passed, it became more and more obvious that our marriage was based on our love for Sophie, not for each other. We were partners raising a daughter, not lovers.
We gradually found out that neither of us was up for providing what the other wanted in the bedroom. He wanted a willing but dutiful wife for regular but ultimately unprovocative sex. I needed... well... not that.
It added to the general 'not working out' direction of our marriage, and in the end we both just lost interest.
It's a sad thing, not feeling desired.
It eats at your confidence. Wears you down.
Telling Sophie about the divorce was the hardest thing I'd had to do. We agreed on joint custody, so Sophie alternated between a week at her dad's and a week at our wonderful new house on Abingdon Road, which she adored. It was a difficult adjustment for her, but she gradually adapted well to our new reality.
