The French Girl

That July had been particularly marvelous. All the promises of cloudless skies had proven to be true when I arrived to my AirBnB in Marbella. The sea view was there, and the nicely furnished apartment matched the pictures I had seen on the advertisement online. Two weeks of the Spanish sun was exactly what I needed after weeks of backpacking and nights in shady hostels all around Europe: a fitting end to my travels before my return to Seattle.

It was the peak of high season. The clubs were all full of young and attractive people of my age. Maybe I was too much of an introvert to make any lasting friends. While I did receive some attention from young men on my nights out, a lady in a skimpier dress soon caught their attention.

In my solitude I found myself drawing more. My notepad was always with me, and whenever I stumbled upon a breath-taking landscape, I would try and capture it, spending sometimes hours on my sketch. Occasionally, I would even sketch people without their knowledge.

One early afternoon I came back to the flat after a small hike in the hills near Benalmadena. The climb had been exhausting in the heat despite the rise having been gradual, and I felt sweaty and dirty from the dust that covered these mountains. I took a long cold shower. The icy water soothed my sun-bronzed skin. I was running out of sunscreen. I made a mental note to buy some later.

Wrapped in my towel, I walked to my fridge and took out a can of Mahou. The freezing cold beer tasted wonderfully refreshing, even if the taste is a bit milder than what I'd usually prefer. I opened the door to my balcony and took a deep breath of the salty breeze coming from the sea. Afar I could see the densely populated beach, a regular pattern of sun chairs and umbrellas.

As I stood there I caught the aromatic scent of cigarettes amid the fresh ocean air. Without much thought, I begun looking around for its source and soon turned my gaze to the adjacent balcony. For the past few days, I hadn't come across any neighbors so I was surprised to see the bare body of a beautiful young woman lying on the sun lounger.

I had never seen such a stunning body. Her figure was enviably small, her skin evenly tanned by hours spent in the sun, the chest and the button nose covered by cute freckles. The long flaxen hair was up on a bun. Her breasts were perfectly formed, not very big but fitting her slim figure. Her nipples were of a lovely shade of brown, the color of café con leche. Her legs were wonderfully long, the smooth hairless skin looking firm and soft as the oasis between her legs. In one hand she was holding a cigarette, looking classy like Audrey Hepburn in her elegant black shades.

She didn't seem to be aware of my presence, yet I felt guilty for having stared at her body for what had seemed like a good couple of minutes. Should I say something? Maybe she did see me admiring her body. Why hasn't she said anything?

But the girl just took another puff of her cigarette, slowly exhaling the smoke out of her lungs, her chest falling as the toxins escaped through her pale pink lips.

Quietly I turned around with the blood rushing to my cheeks. I thought that if she doesn't acknowledge my gawking I might as well keep my mouth shut. After all, it wasn't my fault that she was there lying naked in the plain view. With much effort I tried to keep my eyes on the ocean, listening to its rhythmic waves but the image of her flawless body was imprinted on my mind.

I told myself it was just admiration for another handsome being. As an artist, I should've developed a taste for beauty, a respect for impeccable human anatomy, male or female. In my mind I pictured her as a corrupted version of Picasso's Sylvette: with all the beauty of the youth but none of the innocence. Yet I could feel the hollow truth echoing inside me, questioning my rationale, asking why it is that I so eagerly wished to touch her.

As I was reflecting on this, I could feel the moistness increase between my legs. I took another gulp of my beer.

"Hey you."

I almost jumped off my seat, as I heard the husky female voice. My reaction was received with warm laughter by my beautiful neighbor, who was now leaning over the edge of the balcony, her breasts still perfectly bare and pressing against the stone barrier.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm!" her lips curved in to a charming smile. Her sunglasses were now pulled back on her head, revealing two friendly almond-shaped eyes. Her irises were the color of chocolate.

"How are you? My name's Chloe. Looks like we are neighbors," she said. In her voice I recognized a slight accent.

Despite just nearly suffering a stroke, I greeted her in my best manner.

"I'm Vanessa. Pleased to meet you."

There was much effort in my voice in trying to sound casual. What explanation could I have offered had she noticed me staring at her just a moment before? Maybe she really had noticed. But on Chloe's face I could see no suppressed malevolence. The way she flashed her white teeth at me was almost flirty.

"Have you been here long? I didn't realize anyone was occupying the apartment."

"Oh, I've been here since Thursday," I replied in my most guilt-free tone, doing my best to keep my eyes off her chest. How could she just calmly stand there in her birthday suit?

"So long? How curious we haven't met yet. But I did just arrive here on Monday... How long will you be staying?"

"A week and a half. I'll be flying back on the 21st," I replied, as I tightened the towel around my chest.

"Back to?"

"To Seattle. I'm an American."

"Ah, I thought you might be!" she grinned. Then her voice lowered slightly. "Listen, I wondered if you could maybe borrow me a beer. I forgot to get some earlier and I could just kill for one right now." "Oh!" I was instantly relieved by Chloe's request. Now that I knew she was only after my beer and not plotting some cunning revenge, my entire body relaxed a bit. I even found myself smiling in relief. "A beer. Of course. Just give me a minute."

Swiftly, I walked back to my fridge. When I returned with another, unopened can, she greeted me with one of the most rewarding of smiles I had ever witnessed.

"Thank you. This is so nice of you!"

Her mannerisms were something quite different from what I was used to. She was a lot more reserved in her gesticulation than the Spanish and her voice was quite monotone despite the expressed gratitude. Her slight accent was hypnotizing; the way her tongue lazily rolled her r's was oddly alluring, and shockingly she did it with an air of self-awareness that hinted at her being proud of her charm.

"Are you by yourself?" I manage to ask her in an attempt to distract myself from her lady goods. She sighed dramatically before she responded.

"I was supposed to take this trip with my friend but she couldn't make it. So I just came here by myself. What about you?"

There was a hint of pain in her voice that she was trying to mask with cheerfulness. Immediately I felt sympathy for the pretty girl, who had turned out to be as lonely as I was.

"I'm by myself as well. I did some travelling around the continent."

"Did you go to France?" she asks, her eyes bright from interest.

"Yes, I did spend a couple of days in Paris. Are you French?"

"Yes! I'm from Lille. It's in the North. Have you heard of it?"

"I can't say I have..."

Chloe turned out to be a very sociable girl for she seemed eager to learn about my trip and me. She told me her apartment belonged to her godmother and therefore she often came here in the summer. It appeared she knew the area well so naturally I asked her about the local attractions.

"There's this incredible club in Puerto Banus. It's always full of locals and there are fewer tourists there. I could maybe take you there sometime!"

My heart skipped a beat. While Chloe's suggestion was probably just a casual girls' night out, I couldn't help but think of it as a date.

"Sure. Sounds like a great idea," I replied with much less enthusiasm in my voice than there was in the words.

"Would you be free this evening?" she asked with a soft grin. She clearly wasn't just making small talk.

"Uhm, yeah, tonight would be fine."

"Perfect!"

We exchanged a few more words before I made the excuse of taking a nap and she resumed her sunbath. In reality I felt like another shower would've been in order from all that nervous sweat and dampness in my crotch. Nonetheless I managed to catch an hour of sleep before my alarm woke me up to prepare myself for the "hot date".

There wasn't much debate on which dress I should wear, as I had packed fairly lightly for my Eurotrip and was only left with the option of the minimalistic white silk dress I had purchased the other day. The fabric felt delightfully cool against my skin and I was surprised at having managed to buy something even remotely flattering to my curves.

I spent some time untangling my dark curly locks and putting on the little makeup I had with me before the doorbell rang. As expected it was Chloe, in a bright red, tight cocktail dress that matched her lipstick, her blonde hair having been combed over one of her shoulders. Needless to say the sight of her was breath-taking.

"Hi!" she grinned with girlish excitement, "Are you ready to party?"

We took a cab to the billionaire district of Costa del Sol, Puerto Banus. We took a walk in the harbour area, discussing our interests and looking at the pricey yachts. I learned Chloe was a linguistics undergrad, which she joked was the reason behind her excellent language skills.

We gained plenty of glances from passers-by or, to be more precise, Chloe did. I couldn't take my eyes off her myself since her walk and posture oozed sex appeal and confidence. She was slightly taller than I was in her heels in which her walk was effortless and elegant: something out of a catwalk.

While she acted kindly towards me, she was rather businesslike instead of the girly girl I took her for initially. Her smile was faint, like that of Mona Lisa, as she attentively listened to the stories from my trip. There was something royal about her composure.

"So you're an artist? Do you paint or sketch...?"

"I prefer sketching but professionally I'm graphic designer. Most of my work is done by a computer," I shrug.

"Oh, can you show me some of your works sometime?" Chloe pleaded, her warm brown eyes piercing mine.

"Sometime," I promised carefully.

Chloe led us to a huge posh-looking club. To my surprise she walked us right past the line to the entrance. She greeted the bouncer, who allowed us in without a word.

The club was surprisingly large from the inside. The walls had dark wooden panelling that the red lights overhead illuminated. There were full-grown trees scattered around the area. The night sky of Costa del Sol was ever so present with the stars shining through the room's glass dome.

We both had some sparkling wine, which seemed to be on the house. Before I knew it Chloe and I were on the dance floor, our bodies swaying to the electronic music.

Her dancing was graceful, not the wild and raunchy kind that I was used to. It was the kind of dancing that only enhanced her elegant charm, seductive like that of Salome. There wasn't a head in the world that you wouldn't bring her on a silver platter.

Poorly I tried to mimic her moves and while I probably didn't look half as enticing as she did, I did eventually reach that blissful trance-like state where I no longer felt so self-conscious about my body. I lost myself to the music and the heavenly image of Chloe dancing, her heart-shaped face close to mine.

I drank too much that night and my memories are still quite hazy. Later Chloe claimed that she didn't remember much either, but she was positive that we took a cab home safely sometime at dawn.

To make things even more confusing, when I finally reached the comfort of my temporary crib and passed out on my bed, I dreamt sweet dreams of our clubbing.

I could've mistaken my dreams for reality, if it wasn't for my uncharacteristic, overt flirtatiousness. In my dreams, my hand found its way to her waist, pulling her close so that our bodies were touching. The dream was so realistic, her modest chest pressing against my full breasts. Her beautiful eyes met mine, emptying me of all my hesitations, and my lips finally pressed against hers.

I woke up with a snap to the cosy wet heat between my legs. Had I orgasmed in my sleep? The sun was already high up, and I was thankful for having slept through most of my hangover.

I didn't see Chloe until much later that day. The hangover must have hit her much harder than it had hit me, so I considered it better to let her sleep it off.

Instead I took a trip to the beach. I rented a lounger with the plan of refreshing myself from the night by swimming and sketching through the afternoon. But as much as I tried to lose myself to the merry noises of the beach, my pencil began tracing the familiar shape of Chloe's body, shading the subtle curve of her smile. Involuntarily, I managed to finish a few other portraits and sketches with other subjects but Chloe predominated my mind. By the time I left the beach, I had finished five sketches of my muse, none of which captured her beauty sufficiently.

From that day on, I felt a lot less alone. We spent most of our days together, either on the beach or shopping and often nibbling tapas at various cervecerias. We went clubbing nearly every other night, each night as magical as the first. It didn't take me long to realize that I may be in love with Chloe.

Sometimes in the early hours after having spent the night partying, I found myself touching myself. I imagined Chloe's beautiful slim body on top of mine, our breasts rubbing against each other as her lips sucked mine. In my dreams, her hands replaced mine, teasing the bud of my clitoris with her thumb as her fingers slid in to explore me. I had many bittersweet orgasms like this.

I was confused as to whether I should tell Chloe of my feelings. Never had I felt so attracted to a woman before, nor had I ever dated one. Although I yearned to become more intimate with her, I was also afraid of it being the end of our friendship.

Oftentimes, as we were dancing or getting drinks at the bar, someone would come and hit on Chloe. Once even a guy was ballsy enough to suggest a ménage-a-trois. But Chloe always shunned their advances with polite disinterest, an act that elevated her in my eyes as well as breathed hope into my pipe dream.

One morning after a brief night of partying, she had suggested we'd make some pancakes for brunch. It had taken a while for me to find maple syrup but thanks to the overwhelming number of expats in the area, some specialty shops had had me covered. Chloe on the other hand, had brought some strawberries and powder sugar she had in her flat.

I had told her to make herself at home. It was a bit embarrassing that the apartment was already in chaos after I had cleaned it up yesterday for her visit. Not that she hadn't been there before, waiting for me to get my make up ready for our nights out, but I was still smitten enough to wish to impress her.

"It smells so good. Are you sure you don't need any help?" she inquired as I flipped a pancake.

"No need. There's not that much to do anymore. And I'm almost done anyways. Are you sure you wouldn't like to start eating already?"

"Hmmm," Chloe pondered, "I'm hungry but I'd like us to eat together. I can wait."

"If you want you can set up the table. Would you prefer the balcony?"

Chloe was eager to help and after having given her quick instructions, she set right on task, dancing her way to my balcony. I smiled at my cunning genius. What better way to make her fall for me than through her stomach? Women and men aren't so different after all.

As I packed the last golden brown pancake on the plate and was about to bring the goods to the balcony, I was surprised to find Chloe sitting on the sofa. I hadn't heard her come in. In her hands she was holding something that I first thought was a book.

"Pancakes are ready," I declared but received no reply. Whatever she was scrutinizing had her complete and unshared attention.

I crept closer and went pale as I recognized the "book" to be my notepad. It must've been lying on the balcony table, where I had forgotten it the previous evening. In my horror I held the plate so tightly in my hands that it's a miracle it didn't break into pieces. Chloe's expression was unreadable. She flipped the pages depicting her silhouette back and forward. Undoubtedly, she recognized the subject as herself.

We were both silent for a minute or maybe an hour. I didn't know what would've been worse: have her angrily demand for an explanation or her walking out of my life in silence. It was like standing on a landmine; while the disaster was inevitable, it was better to stand still and quiet.

"Nessa, these are... amazing," she said weakly. She seemed to be in shock.

With my hand shaking, I placed the large plate of pancakes on the counter but was incapable of moving any closer.

"How come you never showed me these?" she turned her chocolate brown eyes to meet my saddened gaze. She looked so fragile sitting there, her eyes wide and moist, as if she was on the verge of burting into tears.

"I..." I tried but the words wouldn't leave my throat. I felt so ashamed.

"But I don't think these are quite right," she said quietly as she closed the sketchbook.

She stood up. I could barely bare to look into her eyes as she handed my sketches back to me. "You are right," I mumbled, "I'm so sorry."

"It's ok. We can fix that," she replied.

Confused, with my eyebrows drawn together, I lifted my face off the sketchbook to witness a faint grin on her face. Fix how?

My expression must've been amusing because she nearly begun to giggle. However, she kept her composure and merely said: "I want you to draw me."

Without another word, she pulled the black strap top over her head and let it fall on the floor. The next to go were her navy blue shorts. Before I knew it she was standing in front of me, naked yet again, in the middle of my living room.

Speechlessly I was wondering if she was pulling a cruel prank on me. I hadn't seen her like this since the day we met and it seemed to me I had forgotten just how marvellous her body was. Her young breasts were of the firmness that begged to be touched.

"Are you serious?" I asked solemnly.

"Real serious," she replied calmly with her eyes steady on mine.

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

I sighed. There was something dodgy about this but I wasn't in a position to argue. Maybe this was her way of getting back at me, by making me sketch her in my sexual frustration. I started looking around the room, trying to find a good place for her.

"Do you prefer to stand or lie down?" I asked.

"Whatever you think is best." Her nonchalant reply seemed fiendishly cheeky.

The apartment had such a poor lighting. If only there was some natural light...

I walked up to my balcony and observed my surroundings. The sky was cerulean blue and cloudless but the sun was already too high up. My balcony was perfectly in shade.

"We should do this on your balcony," I told Chloe. Her apartment being in the corner of the building should have more light pouring in.

Calmly she went to pick up her keys and exited the apartment naked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I ran off after her flabbergasted, having first grabbed my sketchpad and pencils.

"You really don't care who sees, do you?" I hissed, as we were both in the privacy of her apartment.

"Not really," she shrugged, her breasts bouncing deliciously in the aftershock, "here on the sun lounger?"

The sun lounger did indeed appear to be the easiest option. As I begun to set up the place to my liking, Chloe retired to make some preparations of her own. I thought the palms of my hands would be sweating out of nervousness but for some reason I was now determined to get this over professionally. As a matter of fact, I was slightly angry with Chloe for whatever game she was playing.