**Lover or Son?**
by Pan
*Like all good erotica, this story was inspired by the television show Emily in Paris.*
***
The young woman failed to hide a smile as the older man sat beside her. He looked confident - more confident than his looks warranted, if she was being honest.
She'd only been in Paris for a few weeks, but was constantly surprised by the brashness of the locals. Was the stranger French-hot, a metric she hadn't known existed before being transferred to the European city?
Or had he immediately pegged her as an American? She'd quickly learned that all women in France - men, too, if she was being honest - had a chronic case of Resting Bitch-face. Simply by smiling, she gave her nationality away.
But perhaps he'd simply been attracted by her unique fashion sense and decided to try his luck.
Whatever the reason, she decided to humor him. Perhaps it would distract her from her hot, unavailable French neighbor. Or at the very least, give her a good story for her ever-increasing audience on social media.
Or, hell, perhaps he'd smile, and upgrade from French-hot to Actually-hot, and Emily would find herself adding a new love interest to her currently-running storylines.
"*Bonsoir*," he said, and a shiver ran up her spine. Despite spending almost a month in the country, she still couldn't help but find the accent attractive. It really was a beautiful language; something as simple as a greeting rolled off the tongue so elegantly.
*Focus,* the young woman told herself, and returned his greeting.
Now it was the stranger's turn to hide a smile, something he did completely unsuccessfully. "American?" he asked, and she let her full US smile shine through.
"Is my accent that obvious?"
His response was a simple "Oui," but the twinkle in his eye made her heart skip a beat.
Forcing herself to turn away from him, the American woman pointed at the couple sitting several tables in front them. "I've been trying to work out these two," she said, not even bothering to ask if he spoke English. It was Paris. Everyone spoke English.
"Mm?"
"What do you think?" she said in a slow drawl. "Mother and son...or lovers?"
Her question piqued the interest of the stranger, and she felt a sense of disappointment fill her as his intense gaze left her. The two of them watched the pair in silence for several minutes; a middle-aged woman, a man who looked to barely be out of his teen years.
Not an uncommon pairing in France, but certainly not one that guaranteed a sexual relationship. They'd ordered a charcuterie platter, and the woman was happily, slightly dominantly, feeding items from it to the man sitting across from her.
In American, there would have been no question - back home, it would unquestioningly have been the action of a lover. But in France, where even familial relations were more familiar, it didn't even give a hint as to their true relationship.
After the pause was starting to border on uncomfortable, the Frenchman turned his attention back to the American. She felt a shiver go up her spine at his complete, unadulterated attention.
"Lovers," he stated confidently, and for a moment the young woman was whisked away. She could picture it so clearly: herself and this stranger, lovers. She could see them entangled in bed, her naked form on his. She could imagine, almost involuntarily, what it would be like to feel his hardness pulsing inside her, in her mouth, her pussy.
She'd never before given a man her ass, but it was impossible not to imagine him in her ass. He would be a skilled lover, she was certain. He would be slow, gentle, focus on her pleasure...and expect the same of her.
And she would. Without a shadow of a doubt, the young woman knew that while they were together, she would devote herself to his pleasure. She would satisfy him, make him want her, need her, crave her.
It was a heady feeling, and one she desperately wanted to indulge. Her fingers twitched, as though fighting the urge to reach down and undo his pants, to expose the dick that she could picture with startling clarity.
As quickly as the feeling arrived, it disappeared, its absence almost hurting. She felt an ache between her legs, as she desperately missed something she'd never had.
"No," she said firmly, speaking just as much to her own fantasies as to what he'd said. She wasn't the kind of woman to go home with a stranger. She was a respected professional, a successful businesswoman. An American!
She didn't just pick up random men at cafes. No matter how much she tingled at the thought of it.
The Frenchman's eyebrows rose. "You seem very sure of this," he said with a half-smile.
"I am," the young woman replied, wondering how obvious it was that she was trying to convince herself more than him. She reached over and took a sip of her wine, letting it warm her cheeks.
"Then perhaps we should make a wager" the older man said, impressing her with his perfect English. His accent still came through in every syllable, dripping down her spine and warming her to the core.
"A wager?" she echoed uncertainly.
"Yes," he continued. "I say it is a lovers' rendezvous. You claim..."
"They're mother and son," she said, glancing at the pair in front of them. The moment she looked away from the older man, she felt alone. More alone than she'd felt in her weeks in Paris. More alone than she'd felt since her American boyfriend had broken up with her.
God. How could she be missing a man who was sitting right in front of her? A man who she'd literally just met moments ago.
The pair in front of them hadn't moved. It felt to the young American as though a lifetime had passed, but as she'd been talking to the stranger, they hadn't so much as shifted position.
They were still staring into each other's eyes. In the way that...yes, in the way that lovers did, but that didn't mean anything. They could just as easily have been an expressive French family.
"They're mother and son," she said again, turning back to the stranger's cool eyes, wanting to lose herself in them. Wanting to dive in and never surface, to drown in the depths of his gaze.
"So then," the Frenchman said confidently, "we are at an impasse." The young woman found herself nodding at his words.
There was a long pause, and she couldn't help but break it.
