Bar Casamance sat in the African quarter of Marseille, thick roughhewn tables and various African flags were decked out in the interior which held space for some twenty tables, some American diner style cubicles around the edge and the rest in what clearly functioned as the dance floor later in the evening. Light drum and percussion played on the stereo. The bar was half full, it was only 7pm Friday night and there was the usual post-work drink kind of custom as staff prepped for the evening.
Alexia watched Amadou as he quickly responded to a message on his phone. He had apologized, as always, when having to do such a thing and was always quick in his dealing with whatever was calling upon him. He would suck a whistle of air little between his teeth prior to rapidly tapping in a response and then exhaling. Alexia wondered if it was a means to always keep messages short. That by limiting messages to the length of time he could hold his breath he kept workload down. Business or family, she didn't know. He ran the hotel up the road where she had checked in just this morning to a beautiful suite on the 12th floor. He was dressed with exquisite precision as a hotel owner should be but with some flamboyance in colour that his rich, smooth, dark skin demanded. The bright red flashes of shirt defined the edges of the perfectly tailored suit and now as he sat, jacket removed, shirt cotton slid and curved tightly over the muscular shoulders and arms. Delicate patterns were woven into the fabric and it was cut to perfection. He was a big man, 187 perhaps. His manicured hands held the phone deftly. She loved those soft, strong hands, she bit her lip.
The unusual underwear felt like it was flashing. She rarely wore a dress let alone stockings and although she was probably wearing more than half the ladies in the bar she felt as if she was giving out fuck me signals on a neon sign above her head. She always prepared a great deal when she came to meet Amadou, in her single life previously, after being with a guy once or twice she would dispense with that kind of thing. They would have to take her the way she came if they liked her, but with Amadou it was different. Not that he requested anything of the sort, it was just he was so well dressed it seemed only right, and well, if she were honest, she didn't want to give him a reason not to see her again. On the contrary. This was their ninth meeting. It couldn't really be called a date as such. They were both married.
Alexia was German and had been working in the region for several years now. She was 44 but kept herself fit and she had a good woman's body, a shapely pair of legs and a good round ass. It was these two assets that she least showed in public normally and the tight, and relatively low cut skirt was the main cause of her sense of unease. When she sat there was just a couple of centimeters before the top of her stockings would show. This was not criminal obviously, she could see the bar tenders stocking tops from here but then Alexia would normally wear comfortable jeans. However it was quite clear what Amadou preferred to explore with those hands of his. Alexia took a long sip off the rather delicious rum and fruit concoction in her glass. The straw made her feel like a little girl again, a small voice from the left side of her brain trilled out 'bimbo' but she checked it.
She was a very pretty woman, an open, rounded honest face, good supple skin, but even living in the south of France her complexion remained light, her upper cheeks still had a touch of northern European rosiness to them that was amplified by the cocktail. Her dark brown hair was mid length, cut in a typical French style, simple but elegant. She had even treated it for the trip. It was the first time she was to spend more than a night here in the city. Well, more than one night with Amadou. Her eyes glittered with excitement of the new environment and the anticipation but behind the stars they were warm soft, yielding eyes. Eyes that always seemed to hold a question deep within them.
"All done", Amadou said, purposefully shutting down his phone and putting it away, "Forgive me but you know how it is".
"Do you not worry about an emergency, I can't turn my phone off".
"Cerise, the duty manager knows where I am."
"Who you are with?"
"Yes of course, but not why I am with you!" He smiled and took a drink, pushing back into the soft upholstery, clearly unburdening himself with the stresses of the day. The tenseness across the shirt loosened a touch.
"Is this your local?"
"I like it here, I come from Casamance, it is part of Senegal you know. I left fifteen, no sixteen years ago."
"Twenty"
"Yes, twenty years old, when I was 22 I opened my first hostel and internet cafe for off the boat guys like me, just across the road there." Pride lay in the undertone of his voice but the cadence and lead was of happy reminiscence.
"What's it like there, in Casamance?"
"Hot, but with beautiful skies and colours like you wouldn't believe, but mostly I miss the noise of the wildlife outside." He paused, "I very much enjoyed spending the afternoon with you."
"Yes, I didn't expect to see you until about now actually",
"No, but it was good. I mean don't get me wrong, I don't want you to get the wrong impression.."
"I know I know, I haven't, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, you know, nice to know that the guy you are having illicit sex with is a good, cool, guy." He bellowed with laughter.
"Illicit sex! Well, well I suppose it is."
"Are you not worried that people will talk if they see you with me?"
"No, of course not, if she were sitting here" he nodded at the barmaid, "Then mouths would jabber, but with you no, you are dressed very conservatively, besides, we have this." He took out a file and put it on the desk. "We are clearly discussing business".
"Conservatively!"
"Yes conservatively, it is very good, I like it." He showed no trace of irony.
"What kind of women do you normally sleep with?"
"I don't normally sleep with any other women since I am married and the ones I am previously accustomed to dress like sluts but want to be very Christian too, I find you very refreshing."
"Refreshing?"
"Well yes, you dress very conservatively but you are..." he smiles finishes his whiskey on the rocks in a single gulp.
"I'm your first affair?"
"I wouldn't call you an affair."
"What would you call me?"
"I don't know, all the common terms seem rather sleazy". He recoiled a little as he said it and she had a sense that again he was genuine.
"Isn't what we are doing sleazy?"
"Does it feel sleazy to you Alexia?"
"No. Why not friends with benefits?"
"We were never 'friends', until maybe this afternoon." He glanced up a little unsure of where he was going with that. "It was funny that the street performer picked on us wasn't it."
"Yes it was. I certainly think we are friends after that. I never realized you could be so funny."
"Not the role I normally play when we meet perhaps. I am a Dad remember." He sighed and twisted the plastic stirrer of his empty glass.
"So friends with benefits then?"
"Yes! Indeed! Good! We should drink to that!" He looked up but there was no staff in sight, he toyed with his glass. "So how many men have you, y'know?"
