This is a story based on the experiences of a friend.
That Friday night Natalie stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway of her apartment. She asked herself if she looked too sluttish, appraising the tight black cocktail dress, which barely covered the tops of black stockings, and was sheer enough to reveal the hard points of her nipples. Extraordinarily expensive high-heeled Italian shoes showed off her fine legs to their very best. Her long blonde hair was tied in an elaborate bun on the back of her head, accentuating her slender neck and showing off the platinum and diamond choker necklace. She wore hardly any make-up- she was still tanned from a summer on the Cap Ferrat. Too late to change now anyway, she thought, locking the door behind her.
She accepted the lavish praise of the elderly doorman, and not altogether inadvertently gave him a brief glimpse up her dress as she got into the cab waiting for her in the quiet leafy avenue in Paris’ fashionable Seizieme.
“So who is the lucky monsieur?” the cab driver asked her when she had given him directions to a restaurant in Saint Germain. She looked up surprised. He was a middle aged man, dark haired, faintly Arabic looking, with dark, almost back eyes boring into hers reflected in the mirror. His voice was deep with a slight accent. He was extremely handsome, but with a definite hint of cruelty in his eyes.
“I am having dinner with an old friend tonight, not that it is any of your business” she replied, snapping open her mobile phone to bring the small talk to an immediate halt. She picked up her messages and resolutely refused to meet the driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.
The truth was there was no lucky Monsieur in Natalie’s life. She had had a series of short-lived relationships since leaving school. Her parents, ensconced in the family’s chateau hundreds of miles from Paris, occasionally tried to set her up with what they thought were suitable aristocratic men, and warned that they would not provide her with the apartment and generous allowance indefinitely. She knew that was not true- her parents doted on her, even more since her elder brother and only sibling had married an American and gone to live in the suburbs of Dallas- a move akin to moving to the depths of hell as far as Natalie and her family were concerned.
Tonight she was having dinner with Yvette, a school friend and her closest confidante. Natalie had not seen her since June when she left for her usual eight weeks sunning herself at her father’s villa on the Cap. Yvette had always made Natalie feel rather drab and unattractive when they were at school. Natalie was undoubtedly a very pretty girl, and her body was toned and tanned to near perfection, but by common agreement, Yvette was stunning. Natalie often joked that she could find Yvette in a crowd by following the gaze of all the men-and most of the women. Sure enough when she entered the restaurant, there was Yvette, bright blue eyes sparkling with laughter, long blonde hair halfway down her back, surrounded by a crowd of waiters all apparently with nothing better to do than ask the Madamemoiselle if she would like another slice of lemon in her mineral water. Natalie and Yvette embraced and kissed each other on each cheek. Natalie noted that Yvette was wearing last year’s dress, and a tired pair of shoes she had given her- and yet made the whole ensemble look astonishing.
Over dinner the two friends caught up on each other’s news. Yvette told Natalie about an affair she had had with a politician that summer which had ended in an embarrassing scene when his wife had caught them in bed. Natalie laughed at Yvette’s indignation that she had had to leave her underwear behind when making a hasty exit.
“But it was my La Perla- the set you bought me for Christmas.” she pouted.
“Well, that sounds like an excellent excuse to go shopping tomorrow,” Natalie replied.
They drank a bottle of very good Chablis with dinner and because neither drank very often were both a little flushed and a little louder than usual as they made their way to a nearby basement bar which was an established haunt for the rich and beautiful.
More drinks followed, and by midnight they were both drunk.
“Come and stay at mine,” Natalie said when Yvette complained about the boring nurse she shared her own apartment with. “We’re going shopping together tomorrow anyway.”
“That calls for another drink,” said Yvette, leaning in and giving Natalie a thank you kiss.
It was three in the morning when they made their way unsteadily up onto the street. Natalie had taken the precaution of calling her local cab firm to send a car for them. The driver met them at the top of the steps from the bar, picking up Natalie’s handbag from the pavement where she had dropped it, and then helped them into the back of the car. They slumped down in the back of the cab, giggling helplessly. It was not until they were halfway back to the apartment that Natalie recognised the driver as the same man who had driven her earlier that evening. She met his gaze in the mirror, almost accidentally as they sat waiting at a set of lights.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Yvette asked, far too loudly.
Natalie blushed and looked away. Yvette started giggling and it was infectious. Before long both of them were in drunken hysterics.
“Gorgeous… I think he’s a…God! An Egyptian God…” Yvette said trying to sound serious. “Excuse me, monsieur, are you Egyptian? Descended from a Pharaoh perhaps?” she asked the driver before collapsing across Natalie’s lap with laughter.
Natalie looked out the window and frowned, trying to clear the alcoholic fog. This did not look right…They passed through another set of traffic lights and she saw a woman in a tiny mini skirt, thigh high boots and a bra, leaning down towards her window, heavily made up face, cigarette in hand; a prostitute, she thought her mind slowly realising…this is the Bois de Boulogne.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going asshole?” she said. This prompted new gales of laughter from Yvette. “He’s taking us to his pyramid,” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.
“Where the fuck…” Natalie started again.
“Silence,” said the driver in a deep, firm voice. To punctuate his point he activated the door locks and switched off the electric windows in the rear seats.
Natalie reached for her bag and her mobile phone.
“Looking for this, madamemoiselle?” said the driver.
Natalie lunged for the bag he held in his right hand, steering with his left.
“Give me that you fuck.”
But he swung it out of reach, and then turned the car at speed into a side road. Natalie and Yvette were thrown into a heap in the space behind the front passenger seat, Yvette still giggling.
The car came to a halt. The driver turned off the engine and turned to face them.
“Now, you stuck up little bitches are going to pay for this ride.”
“Listen you asshole, I’ll have you arrested and …”
“Lets just see shall we?” the driver said, opening her handbag. He rummaged around, and then said: “I thought so,” holding up a small wrap of paper. “Cocaine, I think,” he said looking at Natalie. Her silence confirmed it.
“Oooh goody, lets have some,” said Yvette before dissolving into hysterics.
“Yvette…this is serious, stop it,” Natalie hissed.
“Yes,” said the driver, “it is. I used to be a cop and can arrange some really serious problems for you, madamemoiselle…Lajou,” he read from her ID card. “You asked me to drive you to the Bois de Boulogne, bought something from a prostitute and then, what? Accused me of raping you, maybe? Those are serious offences, and I think I know who the police would believe.”
Natalie knew her parents would forgive most things but anything to do with drugs was a step too far. Trouble with the police was something she needed to avoid. She had been arrested when she was caught smoking a joint at school and had managed to keep that from her parents. But if this asshole called the police now she would never be able to keep it a secret- she’d be lucky to escape a prison sentence. Her father would be humiliated and furious. He would stop her allowance and make her go home. He might even make her get a job.
“What do you want?” she said looking at him with defiant hatred, but trembling with fear.
He handed her a pair of shiny steel handcuffs.
