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1621

By: Magda



Rickyboxen – you know, if after reading this people inundate you with requests to "fix" their stories you only have your excellent editing skills to blame....smiles. You are my calming voice of reason through the divine madness that is the writing process – and I thank you! 

CHAPTER ONE

Dare I stand before you,
In the harsh light of reality?
I think not!
For within me beats the heart of a coward,
Despite the fact that each beat is yours.
Please know, as you make your journey through this life,
There exists a woman,
Who is glad you share with her, 
The rising sun of each new day!
Please forgive me my cowardice!
I do not have the courage to stand before you - yet.
But I do have the courage to love you!
It is your touch I crave.
Your heart I cherish.
Feel the whisper of my caress!
And know I give it only to you!

Christina Rhodes knew she would send this poem. The desire to have this man know her feelings was too strong to ignore. She needed him to understand what he meant to her despite the fact that she knew he would probably interpret her words as a schoolgirl infatuation - considering the anonymous source. She had written the poem in English and then spent most of the night translating it into French. Her thoughts would speak to him in his own language. She liked that.

As long as her spirit walked this earth she would never forget the warmth of his twinkling green eyes as he smiled at her from his table at 1621 tonight. The connection she felt was undeniable.

The poem spoke for her when she could not. It would keep her secret but also convey her feelings. She knew the truth of these words but could not escape the clumsiness of their delivery.

"Christ!" she whispered to herself. "I'm 28, not bloody 14. Why don't I just go up to him and ask him out? He has said 'Bonjour' to me at the boulangerie every morning for the last two months. It's not like I haven't already got an in."

When she looked at her reflection in the mirror across the room she didn't feel like she had an 'in' at all. Staring back at her were the eyes of an 80kg woman. Dead eyes. Eyes that lacked the passion to write such eloquent and heart-felt words. How she despised that woman! She cupped her face in her open palms. The tears of frustration followed because she knew she was both the woman in the mirror and the writer of such eloquent and heart-felt words.

On the other side of the medieval village of Locronan, Yann had just arrived back at the home he shared with his brother Fabrice. His bad mood had followed him home from the restaurant and it showed no sign of dissipating when he heard Fabrice and Martine laughing in the living room. 

Fabrice obviously brought Martine back home after their dinner date at 1621 and from what Yann could hear of their conversation they were re-capping the incident at the restaurant that was the cause of Yann's bad mood now.

Yann wasted no time in venting his mood on his younger brother. He stormed into the living room and spoke in very loud, rapid Breton.

"Fuck You!!! The woman was an idiot!!! How dare she embarrass me in front of our staff!" He was irritated to see Fabrice's grin growing.

Fabrice reached for Martine's hand to include her in the conversation his brother tried to exclude her from. 

He said to her in French, with a grin on his face. 'Martine, my brother speaks Breton now because he knows you do not, and this is his somewhat misguided way of being a gentleman and sparing you from the fact that he just told me to fornicate with myself. It was a shame he didn't extend to the poor woman in the restaurant tonight the same courtesy he just extended you!'

Martine smiled and looked across at Yann in quiet amusement.

His bad temper evaporated, as it normally did with Yann, but not before he aimed a cushion at his brother's head and settled his lanky frame into the seat opposite. His moods never burned hot for long.

He switched to French and said to his brother. "She was a fucking nightmare!! The nerve of her to show me up in front of everyone!"

"She did no less than what you tried to do to her, Yann. You should have known you were outclassed the moment she started speaking French. She definitely wasn't a shy tourist fumbling through her French phrase book. You're just pissed off she wasn't going to let herself be pushed around. It's people like you who give nice Frenchmen like me a bad name!" He grinned.

Fabrice turned to Martine. "Did you even pick up an accent from her?" Martine shook her head no. "Neither did I. She spoke French as if she'd been raised around the corner. It was flawless. The only thing that gave her away as being a tourist was the fact that she spoke to her friend in English, with a New Zealand accent."

"That and the fact she likes her fucking steak burnt!" Yann grumbled.

Martine and Fabrice laughed again but quickly stopped when they saw Yann looking for more cushions to throw.

"Yann, why did you have to be such a pompous Frenchman anyway? You should have just cooked her steak the way she wanted it."

"Fuck off! I had a thousand years of French cuisine to protect!!!"

"Don't give me that shit! You were only looking to save your own ass and when that didn't work you tried to embarrass her by throwing her 'ignorance' of fine food back in her face. It would have worked too if she didn't come back with... what did she say Martine?" Fabrice squeezed her hand again.

Martine cleared her throat in mock seriousness as if she was going to make an important announcement. "I believe it was something like 'Okay, that's fine. I'll pay for this steak even if the poor cow still has a pulse. Please make it to take away. My dog loves raw meat. And instead I'd like to try the poulet roti. Assuming of course I don't have to chase the chicken around the restaurant to get it onto my plate.'" Martine and Fabrice were laughing so hard the tears flowed from their eyes.

Yann had to laugh as well. "Ok, you two, I have to admit: the better person won tonight. I'm off to bed. If she comes back to 1621 I'll give her a bottle of our best French Merlot as an apology but hell will freeze over before another dog eats a steak from our restaurant!"

CHAPTER TWO

Hours later, when Martine had fallen asleep after their lovemaking, Fabrice lay awake staring into the darkness. There was something about this woman in 1621 that really captured him tonight. Of course he had seen her several times before around Locronan. She always had a warm smile for him and over these past weeks he had grown to appreciate it. 

He had never heard her speak English before tonight and hearing her New Zealand accent reminded him of his wonderful year in New Zealand when he swapped places with a student at Uxbridge College and Connor Blakely became his best friend. Fabrice was 18 and it was his final year at school before starting at Lavillette in Paris 

Was this the reason she captured him so much tonight? He had to admit it had been many years since he had heard a New Zealand accent. He didn't realise how much he missed it until he heard the soft lilt of her voice. Her smiles, her intellect, her wit; the list of things he loved about her was growing. He sometimes saw sadness in her though and pondered on its possible cause. Her body didn't match her spirit somehow and he wondered if this was the source of her sadness.

She was quite blatantly overweight and to Fabrice's eyes this took something away from her somehow. But not in the way you would expect in this day and age where so much importance is put on physical beauty. Fabrice couldn't put his finger on it but he sensed she was lost somehow within herself. She must have been about 160cm and at least 20kg overweight but there was something about her physical body that captured Fabrice. Was it her dark hair that fell in waves to her waist? Or perhaps the sharply intelligent eyes that cast their warm hazel gaze his way every time they passed on the street? He was not usually drawn to this kind of woman. All his past partners, including Martine, were tall and slim. He liked this kind of woman: a woman who took pride in her appearance and looked after her body. So why then was this woman, the exact opposite of his ideal, entrenched so deeply in his mind these days?

Thinking back over dinner he had to admit he was distracted by the conversation this woman was having with her friend. Apparently she had been house-sitting for Mme. Divanach here in Locronan for the past two months. 

Fabrice and Yann had known Mme. Divanach since they were boys. She had a strong dislike of Locronan summers, complaining that the tourists were everywhere. Each year her son would advertise online for house-sitters and then she would escape to his holiday place in Nevez for the summer.

From the dinner conversation Fabrice could overhear, Mme. Divanach was due to return to Locronan next week. This woman and her New Zealand friend were planning to travel around Europe for another six months before returning to the seaside suburb of Uxbridge. For a moment Fabrice was stunned at the coincidence. He would have loved nothing more than to ask this woman and her friend to join him and Martine for dinner but then his adorably obnoxious brother came storming out of the kitchen with a look that could wilt flowers carrying what appeared to be the steak the woman sent back. Knowing only too well his brother's bark, Fabrice felt bad for this woman and what was about to happen. How fast the tables turned!

Fabrice and Martine almost choked on their Merlot when they heard this woman tell Yann in perfect French that Mme. Divanach's dog was going to eat well tonight. He didn't know which was more amazing. The fact that his brother was rendered speechless by this quick-witted woman or that she had kicked him in the proverbial balls and survived. A woman who could get the better of Yann and accomplish it with such panache was certainly worth paying attention to. Could it be melancholy he was feeling that she would be leaving Locronan in a few days? He suspected it was. His heart never made a secret of what it was feeling. The fact that it felt the most outrageous things at the most inappropriate times didn't do a thing to stop its rhythmic beat. It did however, cause Fabrice no end of trouble trying to live with the havoc it created by being so blatant in its requests of him. 

It was summer 2003. Fabrice was 30. He didn't know it yet but his heart had a big journey planned for him. At the end of it he would know only peace, his destiny fulfilled. But first he would see hell – more than once.

CHAPTER THREE

Fabrice Le Gall grew up in Brittany, on France's west Coast. His Parents Louec and Marie raised Fabrice and Yann, in a small village not far from the medieval village of Locronan. They worked hard for their boys and provided them with a home filled with love and laughter, instilling in them a deep respect for their Breton roots and the ability to converse fluently in French as well as Breton. To this day they still lived in the home they raised their sons in.

While the boys were growing up Louec always insisted that only Breton was spoken in their home. It was an odd request that Marie did not understand in the first years of their marriage but as time went on she learned not only to respect his wishes but also agree with them. 

Louec had a deep love for his Breton grandmother and as a mark of respect to her memory and the upbringing she gave him he raised his sons to speak her mother's tongue. He could not stop the French language from influencing the lives of Yann and Fabrice, and it was of no interest for him to do so, but he could ensure the language of his beloved grandmother lived on in them as well. He was a man who respected the past but still had hope in his heart for the future - if only for the fact that he was leaving it to his sons. 

Breton was all but a dead language when Fabrice was growing up in the 1970s so it was good to see schools in his beloved Brittany offering it as part of the school syllabus now. His Celtic heritage was indeed alive and well and very much a part of Brittany and the 21st century. How wise his Parents were to give their sons the grounding in life only the past could grant them!

Fabrice was tall, at 190cm with piercing green eyes and dark brown hair. The windsurfing he adored helped keep him in shape, leaving him with toned and muscular shoulders and legs that attracted more women than he was aware of. He was a shy and intense man, honest in his approach to life and passionate about the things he loved. He was close to his family but also fiercely protective over his independence. When he completed his architectural degree at Lavillette in Paris, Fabrice left Europe for a few years and moved to New York where he worked for some time as an architect but later returned to school to get his Masters in Business. It was a good few years for Fabrice who used this time well to hone his fluency in English.

While in New York, Fabrice met Sabine, a French Canadian law student who became his first long-term relationship. They were both 24 and neither of them were prepared for the tempestuousness that soon defined their relationship. Looking back on it, at the time Sabine broke it off, Fabrice realised it was a craving for the language of home that led him into Sabine's life. He missed France. He missed the fresh croissants in his Papa's boulangerie. He missed the sweet cidre with his evening meal. He missed the delicious aromas that always welcomed him into his Maman's kitchen. But Sabine did not quench Fabrice's craving for home, nor did she prove to be a woman he could entrust his heart to.

When Fabrice completed his Masters, his relationship with Sabine well and truly over, he was more than ready to return to the empowering familiarity of Brittany. He didn't regret that Sabine ended their relationship. He felt only relief that he didn't have to do it himself.

At the completion of his Masters Fabrice had been away from Europe for six years with the exception of a brief visit home for the Millennium. When he got back to France Fabrice decided to call in and see Yann in Paris before returning to Brittany. It was January 2003.

Yann was a chef at one of the more elegant hotels in central Paris. He had done well for himself but like Fabrice he was ready to go back to Brittany. During Fabrice's time away the brothers had stayed in very close contact and had often tossed around the idea of returning to Locronan to run a restaurant. The familiar went a long way with these boys despite the fact that neither of them had lived in Brittany for some 10 years. 

A week after Fabrice had arrived in Paris, the brothers were united in their plans and Fabrice was on his way to Locronan. He had an appointment with a Real Estate agent to pick up the keys for the home he had just purchased, sight unseen: a four level building that at present was the "Librairie Celtique" in the middle of the town square. Fabrice was looking forward to restoring it back to its original design, with, of course, a few post-medieval additions. It would challenge his architectural skills restoring this fine piece of Locronan's heritage but he was more than ready for it. Yann had handed in his resignation at the restaurant that helped turn him into the best chef this side of the Seine – his words. The Le Gall brothers were returning to Brittany! 

Yann and Fabrice were taking over the lease of a local restaurant two doors down from their father's boulangerie. They wanted to re-name it '1621' after the year Fabrice's house was built. Their father agreed it was a good name. But then he was a man who had great respect for the past.

CHAPTER FOUR

His name was Fabrice. Christina had savoured his name on her tongue every moment since she discovered it. M. Le Gall, the lovely man in the boulangerie, called him into his shop one day while she was there and she heard him introduce Fabrice to a Breton woman who needed help getting her purchases into her car. He called him "mon fils". Fabrice was his son. Fabrice Le Gall. Fabrice Le Gall. Fabrice Le Gall. She knew his name.

Christina awoke early for her last day in Locronan. She had not ventured out since the night at 1621 with Alison. That was three days ago. Alison had left straight after dinner that night to stay with friends before flying to Paris the next morning. Christina was going to meet her there tomorrow for the start of their six-month tour through Europe.

Christina was glad of this time to herself. She had hoped as soon as she wrote the poem that she would find the courage to deliver it into the hand of Fabrice, the man with the smiling green eyes. But now, on her final day she was disheartened to realise the courage was nowhere to be found. She felt completely disgusted with herself. These beautiful words that carried so many truths for her were going to be reduced to insignificance because she didn't have the strength to stand by them. But then what was the alternative? She couldn't go to him – not yet.

She took a deep breath and rolled towards her nightstand to retrieve the poem. As she read it one last time she sent a silent cry to her destiny to fill the void left by her cowardice. Her body lacked the conviction of her spirit and as the tears returned she realised Fabrice was too important to let go. The day was fast approaching when her body and spirit would be one. On that day she would no longer be haunted by the woman with dead eyes but until then she had nothing to give him – nothing except the poem.

As she caught her reflection in the dresser mirror the woman with the dead eyes looked back at her with a mocking grin. The writer of the words would ensure Christina's destiny was fulfilled but the woman with the dead eyes would ensure Christina saw hell first – more than once.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Fabrice. Wake up! Papa is on the phone."

Yann threw the portable onto the foot of Fabrice's bed before padding off to the shower.

Groggy, as always in the morning, Fabrice clumsily retrieved the phone. 

"Papa, what is it? It's the middle of the night!"

His Papa's rich laugh boomed down the line. "Mon fils, c'est midi pour moi!!"

Fabrice smiled as he rolled over and looked at his digital alarm clock. It said "07.30". 

His Papa, the clown! Of course it was midday for him. He baked bread for a living!!

"Papa, next you'll be calling me a bum and telling me to get a real job."

"Ahh...you are Breton! You can't be a bum and Breton! It is not possible."

Fabrice smiled once again. "What is it, Papa?"

"You have a letter here; an envelope someone left at the front door of the boulangerie. They must have delivered it while I was in the back making the bread. It smells of lavender."

Fabrice was suddenly wide awake. "I have no idea what that could be, Papa. But I'll get some clothes on and come and pick it up now."

"You don't want to wait until morning, do you? It's still the middle of the night where you are, isn't it?" 

Fabrice could hear the teasing smile in his Papa's words. "I'll be there in five minutes Papa and my croissants better be ready!" He rung off with a grin then leaped out of bed, more than a little curious about this letter.

He got to the boulangerie just as his father was unlocking the door for the two customers already waiting outside. Fabrice greeted his Papa with a kiss. Louec Le Gall drew his son into the shop and waved his customers in before closing the door behind him. He directed Fabrice to the letter behind the counter before moving to serve the newly returned Mme Divanach and her son. Fabrice greeted them both before picking up the envelope.

When he picked it up and turned it around in his hands he was even more curious about it. All it said was "FABRICE Le GALL." There was no stamp and no return name or address. The handwriting was exquisite on the soft lavender scented envelope. He quickly tore it open.


1621



Fabrice breathed in the lavender before he started reading the words. As their beauty unfolded before his stunned eyes he didn't realise he'd forgotten to exhale until his breath left him in a sudden and loud rush. His Papa looked at him with concern.

"Fabrice! What is it?"

Fabrice looked up, desperately trying to compose himself so he could word his thoughts coherently. Long seconds of silence followed. He should have known he was beyond composure. Mme. Divanach walked over to him and smiled gently. "Are you ok, little one?"

She had called him this since he was a boy and although she only reached up to Fabrice's biceps in height now he always felt like her "little one" whenever he looked into her eyes. 

He reached for the hand that was rubbing his arm and smiled at her, immediately easing her concern. "Don't worry, Mme. Divanach. It was not bad news, the opposite in fact." He bent down to kiss her on the cheek, waved at his confused Papa and was gone.

His Papa shrugged his shoulders at the Divanach's. "He forgot his croissants. The second coming couldn't separate Fabrice from his food. That must have been a hell of a letter!"

Fabrice returned home only to retrieve his car and wind-surf. Being out on the sea always helped when he had a lot to think about. He got in behind the wheel and placed the poem carefully on the front passenger seat. He stroked the words with his fingers. In time he would feel only frustration that the writer had not revealed herself to him. But for now it was enough to know that she sent such beautiful words his way; pure in their honesty and real in their love.

It was early evening by the time Fabrice returned to Locronan. He needed to see his Maman. When he pulled up at his childhood home he saw her in the garden picking some fresh herbs for dinner. She stood to wave at him when he got out of the car. She could tell from the look on her sensitive son's face that something was on his mind. She left her herb basket at the front door and walked over to Fabrice who watched her approach but made no effort to move to her.

Marie reached for her son's hand and patted it gently before drawing him into the house. When they got to the front door Fabrice reached down to retrieve his Maman's herbs and they both walked into the kitchen.

"Fabrice, es tu triste?"

"A petit peu Maman."

Fabrice's Maman looked at her son with concern. Like any Maman, even the Maman of fully grown sons, she never liked it when Fabrice or Yann were sad.

"You will stay for dinner, mon petit. Papa will be home soon and we will all eat on the patio. Il fait chaud ce soir, non?

Fabrice smiled at his Maman and kissed her on both cheeks before nodding in agreement. It was indeed another warm evening in Brittany. 

They prepared dinner together in comfortable silence; Marie knew her son would speak to her when he was ready and Fabrice knew, as he had since he was a young boy, that being with his Maman in her kitchen was the most empowering place to be.

When the dinner preparations were over Marie led her son out onto the patio and sat him down with a glass of his favourite sweet cidre. She sat and sipped her mineral water while she waited for him to speak. When he didn't, she spoke gently to him in Breton.

"Fabrice, what has made you so sad?"

"I don't know, Maman. I just don't feel good about my life right now. I am 30. I thought I would be a husband and father by this time but it has not happened yet. Am I wrong to want these things, Maman?"

Marie thought carefully about her answer before giving it. She had suspected for months that Fabrice's heart was not in his relationship with Martine but did not want to interfere with the path her youngest son had chosen. "Mon petit, you are a man with a very demanding heart, even when you were a little boy. But I never doubted for one moment that you would always possess the courage to follow its demands. What is your heart telling you, mon petit?"

Fabrice reached into his jacket pocket for the poem. He handed it to his Maman without hesitation and waited while she read it.

She looked up at him in stunned silence after she had read it through several times. "These are the words of a very beautiful soul, mon petit. Who wrote this?"

"I do not know, Maman. I do not know a lot of things. But I do know I want this woman for me. I want this beauty in my life, Maman. But she has no name! Why would she do this? I felt so uplifted this morning to know there was a woman who felt this way about me but now I feel myself crashing to the ground because she hides herself."

Marie looked at her son with a gentle smile. "Fabrice, don't doubt this woman's love for you. The words she has chosen tell only of truths but she lacks the courage to follow her heart. Give her time, mon petit, to find her way and trust that the day will come when she returns to you. In the meantime live your life as you have always done and peace will come."

Fabrice sipped on his cidre and thought only of the woman with no name. His Maman spoke wisely as always but he was in no doubt that she could not protect him from what his heart would demand.

CHAPTER SIX 

"Ah, you are awake at last, you lazy sod!" This from Yann as Fabrice sat himself at the kitchen table and reached for the coffee his older (and more awake) brother had just brewed. Morning people really pissed Fabrice off!

"Leave me alone," Fabrice grumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned.

Yann grinned at his brother and hid behind the morning copy of "Le Monde" leaving Fabrice in peace while he tried to wake himself up.

Almost a year had passed since Fabrice got the anonymous poem. While he still carried the precious words where ever he went they had, in some ways become a burden to him. He couldn't shake the bitter sweet feelings the poem evoked. How he wanted this woman!

The phone rang. Yann reached across the table to pick it up. It was their Maman. After speaking in Breton to her for a moment he hung up and looked at Fabrice.

"Maman says you have two visitors at the house. Wake yourself up, sleepyhead, and get over there and see them."

"Who are they?" Fabrice asked in surprise.

"She didn't say. But if you jump in the shower and get ready I'll drop you over there. I need to shop for 1621 this morning so hurry up."

Fabrice shook the last of his sleep fogged haze away and headed for the shower. The warm spray completed his journey to full wakefulness, as it always did. 

Six months had passed since Fabrice broke up with Martine. It was not an easy thing to do. But then following his heart never was. Martine was hurt and angry but the heart of a passionate man does not care about this. Fabrice followed his heart and still there was no release for him. He was sure he had done the right thing but knowing this didn't make the pain go away. 

There was a sharp tap on the bathroom door. "On y va Fabrice!!" Yann yelled impatiently.

"D'accord!" Fabrice replied. "J'ai fini!"

Fabrice wrapped his wet body in a towel and opened the bathroom door. "Cinq minutes Yann."

The brothers were out the door twenty minutes later, not the five Fabrice had promised. 

Fabrice was very curious to know who his visitors were and would have told Yann this had the nameless woman's poem not made yet another unannounced visit to his mind. Her words and their lavender haze still haunted him. Hardly a minute went by when he did not think about this woman and the beautiful words she gave him. He could not escape her. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, if this non-life he was living was all he could hope for! Why would she reduce him to this? How could he let her?

Yann stopped at the gate to their parents home before getting out of the car with Fabrice and running to their Maman, who had come out to the front porch. He gave her a soft kiss before running back to the car waved to Fabrice and then he was gone. Fabrice walked towards Marie. She noticed with concern the distant look in his eyes. Perhaps he could hide it from other people but his Maman knew him better. She greeted him with kisses and ushered him into the house.

As Fabrice walked down the hall towards the patio he could hear English being spoken. His curiosity about his visitors was piqued even more so. When he got to the patio he saw a couple with their backs to him admiring his Maman's garden.

"Bonjour," he said.

They both turned upon hearing Fabrice who instantly recognised the tall, muscular blond man but had not seen his brown headed companion before. Fabrice couldn't believe his eyes.

"Connor! My God!" Fabrice reached out to shake the hand of his best friend from New Zealand who then drew him into a one arm hug. It had been well over ten years since they had seen each other but it may as well have been yesterday for all the warmth their greeting conveyed. 

Connor's companion looked on in shy interest while Marie grinned affectionately at the 'Kiwi Boy' who had followed her son back to Brittany after Fabrice's year in New Zealand. Apparently he wasn't convinced the beaches here offered better wind surfing than the Auckland beaches. To this day she did not know which beaches were better and she doubted the two boys even really cared. For the few months Connor stayed with the Le Gall's, wind surfing with Fabrice and working on his French (and at Louec's insistence - Breton) Marie came to look at him as her third son.

Connor drew away from Fabrice to slide his arm towards his wife Simone. In perfect French he made the introductions. "Hon, this is Fabrice. Fabrice, my bride Simone. We've been married a month."

Fabrice turned to Simone and smiled warmly at her before kissing her on both cheeks. She was about to draw away when he surprised her with a third kiss. She blushed profusely until Fabrice explained. "Sorry Simone, we are Breton. It is 'three cheeks' here. Congratulations by the way. Or..." he looked across at Connor with a twinkle in his eyes before adding, "should that be condolences?"

Connor grinned at Fabrice, not surprised that the boyhood teasing they shared during their year together was still very much with them. Certain bonds could never be broken, even by the passage of time.

"It is good to finally meet you, Fabrice. I swear it has taken all my energy to keep Connor away from your parents' place until a reasonable hour. We hit Locronan at five this morning and Connor wanted to come straight over. I hoped 8.00 am was a reasonable time because I had no chance of holding him back any longer." 

Fabrice smiled once again at Simone, liking her instantly.

"I never meant to lose touch with you, my friend. But life happens sometimes and we lose sight of the important things, huh?"

Fabrice nodded his agreement at Connor, encouraging him and Simone to sit down while his Maman discreetly left to prepare them all an early lunch. He continued their conversation in French.

"God! It's so good to see you again Connor. There's no need to ask how you're doing though." He grinned at Simone. "Obviously married life agrees with you. And indeed French. You speak it like a native."

"Well that's one thing I didn't lose touch with." Connor replied as he turned to Simone and smiled warmly. "Of course the fact that the hottest chick on the Auckland University campus was President of the French Club had absolutely nothing to do with me working French into my law degree."

Simone blushed furiously but her eyes sparkled at her husband's compliment.

"What brings you to France, Connor, besides your lovely wife? Oh hey, how is Jack?"

Fabrice noted the briefest of shadows cross Connor's face at the mention of his Grandfather's name.

"Poppy died, Fabrice, about two months ago. Cancer." Was all Connor said.

There was silence from Fabrice as he took in this news. Jack had been good to him during his year in NZ and Fabrice still carried with him the warmth of feeling that comes only when a deep bond of respect is formed. Jack taught him how to wind-surf and the passion this instilled in Fabrice was with him to this day. How he loved his weekends on Muriwai Beach! It was a good time for his spirit. He looked up and realised the shadow that he saw earlier on Connor's face must now be reflected in his own. "Je suis tres desolee mon ami." He said sincerely. I am so sorry my friend.

"Thanks. It was tough to let him go but..." Simone gently squeezed Connor's hand and smiled warmly. "Anyway, the reason we're here is to see you again, of course, and see if we can lure you back to NZ for a while. What are our chances?" He grinned.

Fabrice could feel his heart beat in double time. As much as he loved Brittany he was living a half-life here. He needed to find his way back to the man he was before this poem lifted his spirit only to crash it down again. Perhaps NZ could bring back what this woman took. "Tell me what you are thinking, Connor."

"Well, Poppy left his land at Muriwai to me. Simone and I want to build our home on that land. You know how important that place is to me, Fabrice. I want to commission you to design our home. Nobody else will do, my friend."

Fabrice sat back in his chair, deep in thought. Marie returned from the kitchen to join them. Having heard Connor's offer she sat down next to her son and watched as a myriad of emotions washed over his features.

Marie had seen her son struggle through the last year. His moods were extreme as his melancholy took hold. The elation he felt when he first read the poem had long ago deserted him. A bitter and often angry man had replaced it. More than once she found herself thinking of the woman behind those words. She thought of her, not with anger in her heart, but with a hope that she was doing all she could to return to her son's life and banish forever the haunted look that had resided in his eyes since her departure.

Marie did not know who this woman was but felt the beauty of her words and trusted their honesty. While she acknowledged this woman's anonymity came at great cost to her son she felt in her soul that this woman was suffering every bit as much as Fabrice.

Marie spoke her thoughts, in the hope that it would put things into perspective for Fabrice. "Mon petit, the timing couldn't be better. You have finished renovating your home. 1621 is doing better than you and Yann dreamed. Also..." she turned and grinned at Connor. "...Connor tells me he is worried that the wind-surfing skills Jack gave you might have died because you're so far from any decent beaches."

Fabrice flicked his head back and laughed loudly at Marie's words. Marie reached for his cheek. Her caress told him it had been far too long since she had heard him laugh like this.

With his Maman's gentle coaxing Fabrice made his decision in a heartbeat. "When do you want me to start?"

Connor and Simone both replied excitedly. "Really? You'll do it?"

"Of course. I need to tie up some loose ends with my home and Yann. But I can do all this within the month. Besides, I love Muriwai as well. It will be good to go back."

Simone couldn't help herself. She jumped out of her chair and drew Fabrice into a big bear hug. Or as big a bear hug a woman can give when she is only 168cm and the man she is holding is 190cm. If Fabrice needed convincing that Connor married the right woman Simone's hug confirmed it.

Connor playfully pulled his wife away from Fabrice before muttering "Gosh, woman you're mine! Let Fabrice find his own lady." Simone's responding smile was too bright for Connor's eyes. He did not see the flicker of sadness that quickly passed over Fabrice.

"Simone and I have another month of traveling before we finish our honeymoon but I was thinking at the end of that we can start your commission from here. We want to buy some building materials here in Europe and ship them back home. We'd need your help finding the right stuff. What do you think?"

"Brilliant! I can feel the wheels turning in my head already. Muriwai Beach won't know what's hit it when we get back there!"

Marie squeezed her son's hand and her eyes filled with such love for him. She could feel the man in him returning to re-claim what was lost. Her heart soared. 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

Christina drew from her purse the copy she had made of her poem. The once fragrant lavender paper was now dog-eared and torn from her excessive handling. The year she had lived since she wrote these words had been a bad one for her. There had been a lot of pain and more than a few tears when she realised her melancholy had come at great cost to her friendship with Alison. 

She had lost much since she last saw Fabrice. But, as Christina sat on the warm sand at Uxbridge Beach with the late afternoon sun warm on her back she realised that despite the high price she paid this past year, the worst was over. When one hits the bottom there is only one way to go. Christina was on her way back up. Her life was almost as it should be. Her spirit was one with her body and the time had finally come to re-claim what was hers. She smiled into the warm sea breeze, growing stronger in its loving touch. (Soon, my darling... soon the whisper of my caress will be more than mere words.)

The beach was a place of peace for Christina and had always helped her to order her thoughts. Today was no exception. Since returning from Europe six months ago her friendship with Alison had been on shaky ground. She did not count on the negative impact of leaving Fabrice behind would have on her. This oversight robbed her and Alison of the ability to enjoy their six-month tour through Europe. 

When Christina met Alison in Paris after leaving Locronan last northern summer her melancholy had already taken hold. To Alison's great chagrin this melancholy was to shadow them throughout their six month tour, blighting every part of their trip until their friendship was damaged almost beyond repair. 

The woman with the dead eyes was starting her own tour to hell and ensuring that Christina, and every other person she touched, came along for the ride. Thankfully most of the trip was blurry in Christina's memory but that is not to say that there weren't a few experiences that were never going to grant her the bliss of amnesia.

She remembered with deep regret the first of many arguments she had with Alison. They were in Rome and Alison's passion for the Renaissance was very much in evidence. She was in awe of everything she saw. But, unfortunately for both of them, Alison's passion stopped with her. The woman with the dead eyes ensured none of it touched Christina. 

What kind of imbecile goes to the Sistine Chapel and sits outside for three hours while every man and his dog goes inside and gets neck ache? In short – Christina. Michelangelo would be turning in his grave at such rejection. At that point she knew it was no longer in her to appreciate beauty. She realised only then that all the beauty she could see and all the hopes she had for her future were in the poem she gave to Fabrice. He had the last of the beauty she had to give, while she was left to sit on a Roman street curb in the baking sun of a 38C day contemplating her fingernails. 

As Alison walked away from her into the coolness of the Sistine Chapel, Christina knew the first nail in the coffin had already been hammered home and there was nothing she could do to protect their friendship from her deep sense of dissatisfaction. Twenty years of friendship was hanging by a thread and Christina's half-life was taking a firm hold. She brought her face onto her knees and wept. On a crowded Roman street, in the sunshine of a beautiful Italian day, she was completely and utterly alone.

Christina looked across the horizon as her bittersweet Roman memory faded from her mind only to be replaced by thoughts of Fabrice. He was never far from her. In the year since she had last seen him, Christina, after much soul searching, had finally found her place to be. No longer did she feel at odds with herself. That feeling of imbalance that plagued her entire life was now gone, and for the first time in her 29 years she was comfortable beneath her skin. Her weight had finally dropped to a more manageable 55kg and with her new figure came two newly acquired dimples on her suddenly chisel-featured, though still softly feminine face. 




1621



The new-look Christina was a breath of fresh air from the delicate tips of her French-polished toe nails to the gentle swell of her hips, right through to her flat stomach and softly S-curved buttocks. Her body was tighter than it had ever been and she was glad she had allowed herself to be goaded by Simone into attending yoga classes with her. The affect on her body was dramatic. But it was all for nothing if she could not have Fabrice. 

Simone would kill her when she found out what Christina had done but the time was right. It had to be now. She had suffered enough this past year without him. Come the end of the week she would be back in Locronan to claim her place by Fabrice's side. 

Simone and Connor had been on their honeymoon in Europe for about three months now. They were flying home today, along with their newly commissioned architect. Christina was picking them up from the airport later tonight. From Simone's excited e-mails home Christina learned that they had found the architect to build their Muriwai dream home in Locronan. The coincidence registered with Christina but only fleetingly.

Although she loved her best friend, Christina found it difficult to focus on anything these days except Fabrice. It was of little consequence to her whether they found their architect or not. God knows how crazy they were to even consider going all the way to France for an architect when there were heaps of fully qualified Auckland ones that would design their home without charging three months accommodation and a return trip to France. But over the past year with both of them being promoted to senior positions within their prestigious law firms, as well as Connor's inheritance from his Poppy, they could afford it. And anyway, it was only money. Money was no good to anybody unless it made you happy. Obviously from Simone and Connor's excited e-mails they were indeed ecstatic with the architect they found. So, it was all good.

Christina was a little vague on Connor's connection to this architect but from what Simone told her Connor had known this man years ago right here in Uxbridge and really wanted to find him again during their trip. Simone told her they had made him their first port of call because Connor was impatient to see him again and get things moving on their house. At that point in the conversation Christina was lost to Simone. After all, what interest did she have in an architect from Europe? She was only interested in one man and she knew he definitely wasn't coming to her. She would have to go to him.

France had captured Christina from a very early age. She remembered when she was five and only six months into her first year at school her Mum bought her a book about a little girl who lived on the Seine in a boat with her Papa. How Christina grew to envy this girl as she wrote about seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time from her Papa's boat and sleeping under the twinkling fairy lights of Paris! Christina wanted to be this little girl, so badly. Her Mum did not know it at the time but by giving this book to her daughter she had inadvertently given birth to a life-long passion. Christina was France's biggest fan but it would take another two years of temper tantrums and nagging to convince her parents to pay a private tutor to teach her French. When Christina's best friend Simone wanted to study French as well, her Parents wisely submitted to her immediately, so avoiding the two-year temper tantrums the Rhodes' never saw coming.

Christina was not a spoiled little girl but she was stubborn in her approach to things and while she never asked her Parents for much, when she did ask for something she was not willing to accept any compromise. 

This same stubbornness was with Christina still. It helped maintain her focus long enough to complete her Masters in Business and stayed with her while she fought her way through the oh-so-masculine world of marketing. For a little lady she packed quite a punch as the so-called marketing wonder boys discovered. But only after Christina had lined the arrogant bastards up in her sights and fired her shots. Appearances were very misleading and Christina used every opportunity she could, to exploit this situation to her advantage. 

She was slowly gaining respect within the marketing world but each victory was a hard fought one. These bastards never gave up their thrones easily but by the time they discovered Christina was something other than just tits and ass she had already grabbed them by their proverbial balls. How she loved seeing their faces cringe when it dawned on them how wrong they were to treat her with such disregard!

As the spring sun sunk lower on the Uxbridge Beach horizon Christina's mobile rang. It was Simone. Christina was confused. Simone and Connor should have been half-way over the Tasman by now. Their flight was due to touchdown in Auckland in two hours.

"Simone, what's up? Please don't tell me you're already here!"

"I wish! We missed our connecting flight in Singapore and had to be diverted to Sydney. Our new flight home doesn't touchdown in Auckland until 2.00am. I'm sorry to do this to you, Chrissie, but don't worry about us. We'll take a cab home from the airport."

Christina could hear the distress in her friend's voice. She herself knew only too well how draining these long-haul flights were. At the time of their diversion to Sydney they would have been flying or waiting around in airports for some 35 hours and now they had another five-hour wait before their two-hour flight home. "Sweetie, don't be silly! Of course I'm still going to pick you up. Don't give it another thought. Hang in there, okay? You're almost home."

Simone's relief was evident in her soft sigh. "Chrissie..."

"Don't mention it!" She smiled. "Hey, while it's in my head, didn't you book your architect friend into a motel for the night? Did you want me to call them and make sure they can hold his room? You booked it under "Blakely" right?"

"Hon, you never do anything to let me forget why you are my best friend do you?"

Christina rung off with a grin not fully realizing, until that moment, how much she missed her friend. Simone of course knew about the poem she had written and had been the quiet voice of reason for Christina ever since. Of both her friends, Simone was always the more gregarious and impulsive one, which is why it would shock her to the core when she found out that Christina was flying back to France next week. Of course she would be happy that she was following her heart but only after she killed her for leaving her again. Because of Christina's previous trip to Europe and Simone's honeymoon the two friends were lucky to have spent a month together over the past year.

From Uxbridge Beach Christina called the motel only to discover that they were not able to hold the room for the architect. Rather than messing around and ringing other motels Christina decided to just put him up in her spare room for the night. But to do that she would need to head home pretty soon and put fresh linen on the bed. Simone and Connor only had a one-bedroom apartment so their place was definitely out – even for one night. Besides, Simone told Christina the architect was very tall so she knew a night on the Blakely couch after 40-plus hours of flying wouldn't exactly be conducive to good French-Kiwi relations. 

Fabrice was tall too. Christina continued to sit for a moment before deciding the warm sand between her toes was too good to give up just yet. In just a moment she would stop dreaming about Fabrice Le Gall and be able to get up and get ready for her friends. Yeah, right!

A few hours later Christina was at Simone and Connor's apartment. She was airing it out as she had done most days while they had been away and was just putting away the groceries she had bought so they didn't need to shop while they still had jet-lag. She sat at their dining room table to arrange the fresh flowers she got for them. It would be good to have her friends back!

Five minutes later Christina was back at her own apartment and getting her spare bedroom ready for the architect. If Fabrice wasn't so deeply entrenched in her heart she would have perhaps had the presence of mind to weigh up the coincidences of the pending arrival of this tall Breton Frenchman from the village of Locronan. But Fabrice's hold on her was far too intense to allow the contemplation of things other than him. For a woman who had the intelligence that Christina possessed it was sometimes surprising to learn that there were times when she was decidedly unintelligent. Her destiny was coming for her and it had no intention of calling ahead.

CHAPTER EIGHT

As Fabrice and his friends bordered their final flight on their last leg home he spoke very little. They were all exhausted and more than a little impatient to be free of this constant hopping off and on planes. They had just lifted off from Sydney. The Tasman was beneath them and Auckland was now only two hours away.

During their time together over the previous month they had traveled through France and Italy to purchase glass, marble tiles and furniture for the Blakely's beach side home. These purchases were shipped home from Paris by Fabrice the day before they flew out. He and the Blakely's would beat the shipment back to Auckland by about a month. 

As always, when a passion of Fabrice's is taking hold, namely the project of designing the home of his friends, Fabrice would become very tense. This was always the case when he was rising to any challenge. He loved the opportunity to express himself through architecture and had spent the week before their departure formulating the plans that would eventually (he hoped) fulfill Connor and Simone's dream. The ensuing three months would see him adding to these plans and bringing to fruition the visions he could see in his minds eye. This process was always a slow one for Fabrice because he always wanted to be sure every piece of information he transferred to paper was exactly as his mind saw it. Connor and Simone were very clear in their communications with him so he was able to ascertain fairly quickly the look they wanted for their home. Fabrice calculated it would take about 6 months from completed plans to the day Connor and Simone could walk through their front door. He was looking forward to being back in NZ. The surf of Muriwai was calling to him.

When Fabrice was able to once again stand on the land that held so many good memories for him as an 18 year-old there was no doubt in his mind he would be even closer to the vision all of them had. He would do Jack proud and ensure that the Muriwai locals spoke for many years to come about the cliff top home of his friends.

Fabrice and his friends spoke of other things besides Muriwai as well. Although Fabrice kept the news of the poem to himself he did bring them up to date on his other life events since Connor had last been in touch. They compared notes on their New York experiences as well as their University days. Fabrice's Maman regaled Simone with photos of the 'little rascals' during their time together in Brittany and NZ. 

All in all Fabrice's final month in Brittany was a good one. Under his Maman's watchful eye he could feel more of himself coming back. He was beginning to feel good again.

But still, in the quiet of the night with only his thoughts of her for company Fabrice would once again feel the desolation of loneliness. How sweet her caress would feel on his wary brow! How tender her lips would be against his! He lived only to love her. And because he couldn't love her his sleep never brought him peace.

He could no longer tolerate this half-life he was subjecting himself to. If she would not come to him and reveal herself what could he do? For self-preservation he had no choice except to move on. New Zealand would be a new beginning for him. If he couldn't purge this woman from his soul he would never find peace. The comfort of her words long ago ceased to be a comfort.

CHAPTER NINE 

Christina got to Auckland International Airport just after Air New Zealand Flight 22 touched down from Sydney. It was 02.15 am on a cool spring night. With any luck her friends would clear customs quickly and she could get them home to rest within the hour.

As she parked her car and raced across the airport car park the cool night air crept beneath her open leather jacket and caressed her nipples into aching wakefulness. The unexpected jolt was not lost on her. Christina had been celibate since before she had last seen Fabrice and her body often showed its disgust at her so-called maltreatment of it by giving her nasty little surprises like this every now and then. "Great," she whispered to herself ironically, as she entered the arrivals terminal. "Some impression I'm going to make on this architect dude!"

Christina walked over to the arrivals board and saw that Simone and Connor's flight had a "processing" status. Above the arrivals area she could see a huge monitor that showed the customs lines just inside the door non-passengers weren't permitted to enter. Her friends would show up on this monitor moments before completing the final stage in the customs process. Christina would see them before they saw her. 

Ten minutes later Christina saw Simone and then Connor appear on the monitor. Moments later, they were walking into the arrivals area in person. Christina was beside herself and went rushing to her best friend. She almost bowled her over she hugged her so hard. Behind Simone, Connor looked on and grinned. Christina reached for his beard and stroked it in distaste with her finger tips while she continued to hold Simone. "Hey, Caveman," she teased, before letting Simone go to draw him into a hug as well. Christina pulled away from her friends and looked at them closely for the first time. "You guys look like crap!" She grinned.

"Yeah but on the upside we feel fucking awful!" Connor replied. 

They all laughed. 

Christina didn't know it of course but that final laugh she shared with her friends marked the last normal thing that ever happened to her. From that point on only the blissful chaos of love would be known to her – and Fabrice. Connor looked back through customs for their wayward architect. "Hon, where's the crazy Frenchman? Wasn't he just behind us?"

"He was just going to check and see if his wind-surf arrived ok. You'll need to come back here tomorrow, hon, and pick it up with him. It's not going to fit in Christina's car." She grinned at her friend. "He shouldn't be too long."

Connor smirked, "More like he's giving his number to the hot stewardess who was pumping up his ummm... pillow."

Simone rolled her eyes at her husband before saying to Christina. "Wait until you see him Chrissie. He is sooooo hot! And single too!"

It was Christina's turn to roll her eyes. That is, until Fabrice Le Gall walked back into her life, tall and graceful as he searched for them with his twinkling green eyes.

When Fabrice scanned the crowd for his friends and located them across the crowded arrivals area his eyes locked, not on them but on their hazel-eyed companion. He recognised her instantly despite the fact that there must be about 30kg less of her than when they last crossed paths at 1621. She took his breath away. His cock stirred as he walked towards her. 

Watching Fabrice's approach, Christina was stunned into complete silence. The color drained from her face and she felt as if she was about to faint. Simone picked up on it immediately. "Chrissie, what's wrong?"

Knowing they were seconds away from heading into the shadowy darkness of the car park Christina desperately hoped she would re-gain enough composure to hide her emotions until then. But before that composure came she made her first mistake.

"Fabrice..." she whispered softly. Though not softly enough, because both her friends and Fabrice looked at her directly.

How wonderful his name sounded to his ears as it rolled off her tongue! He wasn't imagining the depth of feeling she whispered into those two briefest of syllables was he?

Simone looked at her friend in concern but didn't voice her thoughts as she watched Christina's reaction to Fabrice closely. If she had known Fabrice better she would have realised he too had the burden of his own reaction to bear. But she didn't know him very well so her focus remained on her best friend.

Christina recovered slowly but well. She knew she was only seconds away from the blissful darkness of the car park and was able to make an almost decent comeback. She looked up at Fabrice and smiled warmly, addressing him in the perfect French he remembered so long ago in Locronan. "Welcome back, Fabrice. New Zealand has missed you very much!'" With that she brought him into her arms and kissed him like a Breton. His right cheek first. Then his left cheek. And finally his right cheek again.

Fabrice was touched by Christina far more than he had ever experienced before. He could not resist stroking her cheek softly before she moved away from him again. Christina was the first woman he had met in this past year who made him forget his torment, if only for a few fleeting moments. The connection was instant.

During the 20-minute drive back to Uxbridge Christina was very aware of Fabrice's proximity across from her in the front passenger seat. It was quiet from the back but Christina knew, come morning, she would have a lot of explaining to do to Simone. In the meantime though, there was only Fabrice.

Christina explained to Fabrice the situation with his motel and that she had prepared a bed for him in her spare room. He thanked her profusely as did Simone and Connor who both reached forward to rub her shoulder in gratitude. They were already under the fierce grip of jet-lag so very little else was said.

Soon after, with Simone and Connor safely home again, Christina made the short drive back to her apartment and helped the very wary Fabrice inside. She encouraged him to relax and make himself comfortable.

"Fabrice, I know you feel shattered right now but if you can stay awake a little longer I can run a nice warm bath for you and you will sleep easier." She smiled warmly at the man she loved. 

Fabrice was completely unprepared for the compassion of this woman but oh how he needed it! He smiled his thanks up at her from his slumped position on her sofa. 

Christina reached for his hand and squeezed it. "You'll feel better soon, I promise." With that, she left him to his quiet contemplation while she went to prepare his bath.

When Christina returned a few minutes later it was to find a very gorgeous Fabrice in a deep sleep with his mobile ringing madly away from inside his jacket. Not wanting him to be woken in this way Christina quickly retrieved his phone and walked with it into the kitchen.

"Hello," she said

There was a slight pause on the other end and then in French the voice of an older woman came through to her. "Hello, I may have the wrong number but I expected my son to answer this phone."

Ahhh, the lovely lady from Locronan with the beautiful garden. Christina smiled to herself remembering her well. She continued in French. "Hello Mme. Le Gall. My name is Christina Rhodes (and I'm going to marry your son!!) and I am a friend of Simone and Connor's. Fabrice is here with me now but in a very deep sleep. They were diverted to Sydney after a problem in Singapore and have only just arrived in Auckland in the last hour. They are all okay though. Just very, very tired."

The relief in the older woman's voice was evident to Christina. "Thank you, Christina." Only the deepest gratitude was relayed to Christina from Fabrice's Maman despite an intense curiosity about who exactly Christina was. 

"Mme. Le Gall, I can understand your concern. Fabrice, after all, is a long way from home (but finally oh so close to me!!) but he is ok. If you can hold on a moment I think he is waking up. He fell asleep on my sofa but I can hear him stirring." 




1621



Christina walked back into the lounge to find that indeed Fabrice had woken and had stood to stretch his long muscular frame. She smiled at his dazed stare and explained his Maman was calling. He nodded his wary thanks before taking his mobile back and speaking quietly for a few minutes. Christina gave him some privacy.

When Fabrice finished his call he went looking for Christina. He found her in the steamy bathroom laying out a soft fluffy towel for him at the bath's edge. She turned and smiled when she heard his approach.

"I hope you like lavender oil, Fabrice. I poured some into your bath to help you relax."

Fabrice could not conceal the troubled emotions suddenly etched across his face as the scent of lavender assaulted all his senses. The nameless woman with the lavender scented poem had returned with a vengeance to re-claim his battered heart. The shadows that heralded her return were reflected as always, in his beautiful but sad green eyes. (Why don't you leave me alone? You have brought me nothing but pain this past year. Let me go now. I need to live my own life!) Christina saw the suffering in his eyes and realised in that moment that not only did her words to him find their mark they also caused him great pain. She needed to end it for him now. She needed to end it for both of them. She drew him down with her onto the edge of her huge sunken tub.

"Fabrice, I know you are tired now but there is something important I have to tell you." She reached for his face and cupped it lovingly in her warm palms. "You need to listen to me, honey."

Fabrice blinked in surprise at her unexpected but oh-so-welcome endearment. But he was still under the spell of the poem and the bittersweet torture of the woman with no name. His mind was foggy but oh how fast that fog was going to lift.

Christina took a deep breath and jumped right in at the deep end. "I remember you well from Locronan, honey. You were the light in my eyes for the months I spent there and everyday since. I loved you from the first moment I saw you in your Papa's boulangerie. I loved you but I knew I had nothing to give you, nothing except a silly poem which I left with you like a thief in the night. Honey, I am so sorry for this past year because I see now you have suffered every bit as much as me. I never wanted to hurt you, my darling, but there were things I needed to do before I came to you. I needed to find my spirit first. The woman I was meant to be. I couldn't do that and be worthy of you at the same time." 

The tears flowed freely now as Christina opened her heart completely to Fabrice. She knelt at his feet and rested her arms on his knees. Her eyes locked with his as she whispered the very words that granted Fabrice the blissful oblivion of release. "Please forgive me my cowardice. I do not have the courage to stand before you - yet. But I do have the courage to love you. It is your touch I crave. It is your heart I cherish. Feel the whisper of my caress. And know I give it only to you."

Fabrice was stunned. Could this be an end? The end he had craved for this past year. He knew it was. He knew finally what it was his heart was reaching for. It was Christina, this woman who knelt before him now.

Fabrice reached for her and drew her onto his lap. He was completely empty of anything except his love for her. He needed to let her know his heart. But his energy was fading fast. 

"Christina, it was you? It was you who loved me all these months?"

She nodded up at him, blinded by her tears.

"Words are so far from me now, honey (the endearment felt wonderful as it rolled off his tongue!), but know I love you. Know I have always loved you. I lived only for your words this past year and hoped against hope that you would come back to me. Your poem was not silly darling. It was not silly at all."

Christina was overwhelmed by relief but recognised Fabrice's fatigue for what it was. She drew him into her embrace and whispered, "Hon, let me love you. Tomorrow there will be plenty of time to talk but for now you are tired so let me give you the caresses I have saved for you all these lonely months."

Fabrice nodded his assent as she stood before him and began to remove his jacket and shirt. She knelt down to remove his boots and socks then pulled him to his feet and removed his jeans. When he was naked Christina asked him to slip into the bath. Fabrice did as she said and was immediately enveloped in the warm lavender caress of the water. This was exactly what he needed. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of this beautiful lavender woman as her soft hands glided gently up and down his wary body.

He was watching her through the fringe of his long eye-lashes. Watching her loving him with such gentle precision. He was overwhelmed. She had removed her short black leather jacket and her black high-heeled boots and knelt before him in only a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. The steam in the bathroom had made her t-shirt almost transparent. Her nipples were erect and he could see the soft pink outline of her large areolas each time she bent forward over his chest. For a moment he was confused as to how he was able to do this. The thick material of her t-shirt was not so wet that it would allow this unencumbered view through its cotton and her bra. After all, despite her small frame Christina's breasts, which he estimated to be at least C-cup, were surely too large to go braless. Then it dawned on him. Christina was wearing a demi-cup bra. A bra that lifted and supported the lower half of her full breasts but left their upper slopes and most of her nipples and areolas free. She was a sensual woman, this woman he loved. He smiled to himself as he continued to commit to memory each detail of her gorgeously soft body.

He loved how the tendrils of her hair damply framed her face. Although wearing her hair down at the airport Christina had scooped it back up into a hair tie while she bathed Fabrice. He wanted to see her hair down again and without a second thought opened his eyes fully and reached his hand up to the back of Christina's head to gently pull the hair tie from her hair. It fell it thick waves over her shoulders to rest against her hips.

"You have beautiful hair my darling but it is better down." He smiled up at her.

Christina blushed under his intense scrutiny. But how relieved she was to see the shadows fading fast from his loving green-eyed gaze. She leaned back a little and gazed over Fabrice's wet, tired body. "Honey..." 

Her soft voice brought his eyes to hers and there they stayed.

She leaned into him and kissed his lips softly for the first time. It was a kiss that promised more - but not quite yet. She moved back again. "I prepared the spare room for you but I know now, after this horrible year apart that we have both had to endure that I do not want you any further from me than the other side of my bed." 

Fabrice could feel his emotions exploding from his heart. He was completely overwhelmed by her and at the same time succumbing rapidly to the affects of his jet-lag. "I doubt I can sleep peacefully unless your skin is against mine anyway, hon."

Christina kissed him softly on each of his closed eyelids before moving towards his towel. She shook it slightly and opened it for him to step into. "Come on, sweetie. Let me dry you before you fall asleep in my bathtub and drown." She grinned at him as he stepped gloriously nude from the tub and into her waiting arms. 

The bath had worked its magic on Fabrice, easing his aching muscles and removing the last of his travel grime from his skin. When he was dry Christina dropped the damp towel on the floor and led Fabrice into her bedroom. She pulled her duvet back and encouraged him to slip nude beneath its warmth. He moved to lie on his back, his hands supporting his head on the pillow, his eyes lovingly following her every move. He watched as she slowly removed her t-shirt and then her bra before unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down to pool at her feet. She hooked her fingers into the sides of her thong and very soon that too lay on the floor. 

She walked back towards his side of the bed confident in her nudity, and sat at his side. Her soft fingers reached for his bare shoulders stroking them gently with her sweet caress. He closed his eyes and sighed softly into her touch. When she spoke he opened them again. "Fabrice, you have no idea how badly I want you right now. How much I crave the feel of you moving inside me, but for tonight it will be enough to feel your warm skin on mine. So let me hold you, baby, while you sleep."

Before fatigue took him away from her he pulled her soft pliant body on top of him and kissed her softly. Her moist lips opened to the gentle probing of his tongue for one blissfully serene moment before she gently pulled away from him. He knew from the wanton look she gave him that her words of a moment ago were indeed true. Her passion for him was every bit as strong as his for her. He whispered to her, "I see the look in your eyes, Christina. I see your passion for me and I know now that it burns as brightly as mine for you. Forgive me this weakness, darling. I just needed to know." 

She reached up for his hand and within seconds his long fingers were drowning in the juices emanating from the softness between her legs. 

Fabrice's pupils instantly dilated as his heart thundered in his chest. 

Christina looked at him with a mischievous grin. "Is this proof enough, baby?" With that she gently pulled his fingers away before licking them clean of her juices. Fabrice watched in fascination as her tongue twirled sensually around each of his fingers before sucking them one at a time deep into the warm moist cavern of her mouth.

"Christina... I..."

"Shhhhh, honey." The mischievous grin of a moment ago was replaced with only the warmest of smiles. "Sleep now. You are tired and you need your rest. Tonight I will love you with my heart but tomorrow..." her grin was back, "your body is soooo mine!"

With that Christina crawled beneath the duvet and slid her warm softness next to the hard muscle of his body. Fabrice moved towards her, desperate for her touch. She wrapped him tightly in her arms and brought his cheek to rest against her left breast. He fell asleep to the soft beat of her heart and the loving caresses of her fingers on his face.

In the night Fabrice was pulled from his peaceful slumber with a start. His moan alerted Christina who instantly pulled him into her embrace whispering soft words of comfort.

His tortured voice came to her in the darkness. "Christina, you're not real. When I wake in the morning you will just be a dream won't you?"

Christina whispered to him the words that would bring him comfort. "Fabrice, I am real. Feel my arms around you honey. They live only to hold you. When you wake I will be here to welcome you to the new day. But for now you must sleep, honey. Shhhhh..."

Her hands continued to rub his back, his face, as she rocked him gently in her arms. He drifted back to his peaceful slumber, reassured that her presence was every bit as real as his need of her.

CHAPTER TEN

It was 10am when Connor inserted Simone's key into Christina's front door. Amidst strong protests from Simone, Connor had driven them straight over there after picking up Fabrice's wind-surf from the airport. As in Brittany, Simone, once again had not managed to stop her husband from doing exactly what he wanted to do. She rolled her eyes in silent resignation as he opened the front door and bowled right in.

He called at the top of his voice. "Fabrice, get your butt out here. We've got your wind-surf. Get your wet suit, buddy! Muriwai is calling!" 

He walked down the hall towards the spare room and noted only with mild curiosity that the bed hadn't been slept in. Without a second thought he bowled on into Christina's bedroom.

"What the fuck..." Connor moved to Christina's side of the bed just as she was waking up. He grinned down at her sleepy gaze before saying in a teasing voice. "You shameless hussy, Christina. You couldn't even leave the poor man alone long enough to get over his jet-lag! What a shocker!"

Fabrice, who had woken long before the Blakelys's untimely entrance, and had been staring down in loving fascination at the sleeping Christina, now hid his grinning face under the duvet. He moved towards the warmth of her and spooned his naked body to hers, holding her close while he buried his face in the fragrant curtain of her long soft hair. He was still feigning sleep.

Christina had known Connor for too many years now to give him an inch in their never-ending contest of wills. They always tried to get the upper hand on each other and Christina would go down fighting before admitting that if she had balls Connor would pretty much have her by them right now.

With as much dignity as she could muster with a gorgeously naked Frenchman pressed so beautifully warm and hard against her body, Christina pulled the duvet up to cover her nakedness and said threateningly. "Ohhhh, get out of my bedroom, Caveman, before I get my club and drag you by that ugly-as-butt beard of yours and throw you in my cave!" 

Connor grinned down at her, purposely misunderstanding her definition of "cave". "You're kidding right? You ain't getting me anywhere near your cave baby. I've seen what you did to Fabrice, remember? Shit!" He looked over to Fabrice's side of the bed in mock concern. "Has he even got a pulse now?"

"Oooooohhhhhh!!!" This from Christina as her pillow hit him square in the chest. 

His laughter resonated down the hall to Simone who quickly flew into Christina's bedroom and sheepishly dragged a grinning Connor out by the collar of his shirt. "Coffee's brewing, Chrissie, when you guys are ready," she called behind them closing the door as they went.

As soon as the door was closed Christina could feel the soft vibration of Fabrice's laughter against her back. She turned towards him and ripped the duvet back in time to see him grinning up at her.

"You heard all that?" she said, her eyes flashing.

Fabrice, helpless in his laughter, could only nod.

Christina quickly rolled him onto his back and straddled his hard body between her soft thighs. She pinned his arms above his head. "You heard all that and you let me face Connor alone?" 

"Honey!" he said pleadingly. "He's got my wind-surf! There was nothing I could do."

She raised a pillow above her head preparing to pummel him with it. "Your wind-surf is more important than defending my honour?" She was grinning, but trying so hard not to.

"Hon, it's an expensive wind-surf! If it's any consolation it was a tough decision to make. You came a close second I swear!"

Before Fabrice could say another word Christina was hitting him with the pillow. She got in a few good body shots before he quickly flipped them both over and pinned her to the mattress.

"Are you always this feisty in the morning, babe? Or did I just get lucky today?" he said teasingly before dropping his lips to her erect left nipple and drawing it into his mouth.

A long drawn-out moan was all Christina could give him in the way of a reply.

She could feel his cock stirring against her thigh as he continued to her other nipple. Involuntarily she arched her back towards him as he began to intensify the feelings within her.

"Honey," she whispered, desperately trying to compose herself. "We can't do this now."

Fabrice pulled away from her for just a moment. He had the glint of passion in his eyes and when he spoke his voice was low, his words slow and precise. "We can do this now and we will o this now! I've waited a year for you, baby. I'm not going to wait any longer. I'm going to love every inch of your divine body and I'm going to take... my... sweet... fucking... time!"

The feminist in Christina would surely kill her for feeling this way but Christina was powerless to feel anything except intense arousal as Fabrice took charge. She squirmed beneath his oral caresses and loved the rough feel of his day-old beard against her soft skin.

Fabrice's heated whisper came to her as if from a great distance. "You stole something from me last night, babe, something that I fully intend to get back." His face was pressed between the valley of her breasts and he stopped administering his butterfly kisses there long enough to stare down at her with passion burning in his eyes.

Christina's senses were heading into overdrive now and she was finding it difficult to talk. She shook her head in confusion.

As his response, Fabrice just smiled benevolently at Christina and then laced his tongue around the index and middle fingers of his right hand coating them liberally in his saliva. His breath was hot on Christina's ear as he whispered to her moments before he thrust his fingers deep inside her tight warmth. "You stole my chance to taste you last night, baby, and hell will freeze over before I let you do that to me again!"

Christina's sharp intake of breath at both his words and the sudden thrust of his fingers told Fabrice she was every bit affected by him as he was by her. He continued to stroke her pussy, caressing her swollen pink clit intermittently with his thumb and loving the way she squirmed beneath his touch. He watched mesmerised as her eyes fluttered shut and her gorgeously long brown hair fell in sensual ringlets over her face and neck. He loved how the ends of it stroked her nipples to hardened wakefulness as her breasts swayed gently to his loving ministrations.

He crawled down her soft yet firm body only vaguely aware of the salty trail his cock was leaving as it oozed his pre-come down her thigh. He maneuvered himself between her legs intoxicated by the musky aromas that were assaulting his senses. As he looked down on her smoothly shaven mound his fingers still moving deeply inside her he couldn't help but rub his cheeks in the neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair. Her lips were wonderfully free from hair and he knew his tongue would encounter only softness when it licked her there. He looked up at Christina one last time, watching her squirm and arch her back until her nipples pointed at the ceiling. His cock twitched and his balls ached for release when he saw her hands come up to cup her swaying breasts. He lowered his face until his tongue could trace the delicate outline of her swollen lips. From that point on all coherent thought left Fabrice's mind. 

For this brief moment in time Christina lived only for Fabrice's clever fingers and the delicious havoc his probing tongue was wrecking over her body. She was encouraged by his naughty words of love as he pulled her inexorably closer to her climax.

When Christina moved her hands to the back of his head and gripped him tightly as she thrust her pussy more deeply onto his tongue Fabrice knew she was close. He loved how she spread her legs wide for him giving herself completely. She tasted so fucking good. He had to move his left hand under her body cupping her buttocks tightly so he could keep his tongue and fingers exactly where she needed them to be. But as her movements became more violent it became more and more difficult for Fabrice to maintain his hold on her.

As his tongue continued to stroke Christina's aching clit, Fabrice looked up in time to see her bite down hard on the knuckle of her index finger. "Christina!" His breath was hot on her mound. "Don't hide from this, honey. Let me hear you moan. You know I'm going to make you come on my tongue don't you babe?" His thrusts instantly became deeper and faster, drawing Christina closer and closer to the edge. He smiled to himself when he saw Christina remove her knuckle from her lips and whimper softly. Once again he bent his head low over her quivering body and let his tongue dance over her clit. Over and over again he jabbed at her sensitive centre until she was just a shaking quivering mass. Her once open thighs clenched tightly around his head as she screamed his name. 




1621



"Oh God, honey! I'm so close now..." She moved her head from side to side her beautiful long hair a whirl around her flushed face. "...so fucking close."

"That's it, baby. Let go. I want to see you come so badly." Watching this incredible woman squirm beneath him was costing Fabrice dearly but he could not pull his eyes away from her body as her climax hit her at full force and exploded her into a million pieces.

The vicious grip of Christina's orgasm didn't let her go for a full five minutes. Fabrice slowed his caresses down but continued to lovingly lap at the juices still oozing from her soft tender lips and onto the fingers that continued to grind gently inside her. He loved the way her tight vaginal walls continued to spasm around his softly thrusting fingers long minutes later. He whispered only words of love to her as she came down from the high he brought her to.

While her body was still wracked by spasms he crawled back up the bed to draw her tightly into his arms. "I'm never going to let you go, Christina Rhodes. Do you know that?"

She whimpered softly as she burrowed her face more deeply into his muscular chest. All was right in her world. Finally.

After a few minutes Christina lifted her face to a softly slumbering Fabrice. Her whisper carried across to him to gently pull him from his reverie. "Baby, as much as I would love to lay here with you and continue this I think we need to get up and deal with these burglars of ours."

His soft chuckle felt like the sweetest water against her parched lips. He looked into her eyes and said "Hon, you're right, of course. But I can't let you go yet. Let's take a shower first. Okay?"

Christina nodded her reply as the images of their two slick bodies moving against each other in their timeless erotic dance caused her hazel eyes to darken with desire. Her heart began to thunder in her chest. The orgasm Fabrice gave her only a few minutes ago may as well have occurred last century. Oh how fast her demanding body forgets! She pulled herself away from him slightly to slide gently down his body. His gloriously erect cock was hot against her cheek. The words that Christina spoke next would leave Fabrice in no doubt just how deliciously naughty she could be.

"Do you mean to say, baby, that I finally get to see what a Frenchman can do with his baguette?'

Fabrice's eyes quickly shot open to stare down at Christina who seemed to be transforming into another woman before his very eyes.

Christina winked at him darkly before letting her hot breath play over his pre-come oozing cockhead. "You didn't think this was over, did you baby?" She shook her head from side to side, never once breaking eye contact. "It's a looooong way from over, hon. You might have started this but you can be fucking sure I'm going to finish it! And this time..." her fingers gently caressed his aching balls while she blew a warm breeze over them. "...this time it'll be Christina taking her sweet... fucking... time."

The tables had turned on Fabrice. And just like every other marketing wonder boy that lay dead and buried at Christina's feet, he never even saw it coming.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Christina led Fabrice into her en suite. He followed meekly but god how he wanted her! He was confused as to where Christina's tub had disappeared to until he realised her apartment must have had a bathroom and a separate en suite.

He watched silently as she leaned into the shower stall to start the water running. He noted her mischievous grin as she directed his attention to the glass wall of the shower stall. "See how the side of the shower is transparent glass, hon?"

He nodded quietly not understanding where she was going with this.

She continued. "And you see how the mirror on the opposite wall reflects everything that goes on in the shower?" She had a devilish grin on her face as she waited for the penny to drop.

When it did Fabrice's heart began to beat erratically in his chest and his cock grew even more deliciously hard. 

Christina, understanding that Fabrice could finally see the sexual scene going through her head whispered to him breathlessly, "Hold that thought, babe!"

As they stepped beneath the hot spray their eyes locked moments before Christina drew his lips down to hers. She wove her tongue around his, so beginning once again their sensual play.

Fabrice brought his arms around Christina's back tangling his fingers in her long wet hair and drawing her closer to him. Christina was left in no doubt of his desire for her as his slick hard cock prodded deeply into her soft flat stomach. Fabrice finally broke the kiss to look down at this woman who had so convincingly captured his heart.

"Hon, I can't get enough of you. I hold you so close to me because I am scared you are going to disappear again."

Christina reached up and cupped Fabrice's warm face in her hands. As the water cascaded down around them she made an oath she fully intended to keep for the rest of their days. "Fabrice, I've spent my entire life searching for my place in this world. I've reached to the depths of my very soul trying to find the woman I was supposed to be. I have finally found her. Not just for you but for me also. She is here now and her place is with you... only you. Your heart belongs to me now and as long as there is breath in my body I swear to you it will know only peace and the deepest of love."

Fabrice was stunned. How his spirit soared to hear these words! They were the soothing salve his heart had craved ever since he received her poem and read it for the first time. 

"Christina, you take my breath away. This past year without you has been so tough on me. I was living a half-life without you. NZ was going to be a new start, a place to re-discover the man who has been lost to me this past year. But then quite unexpectedly you came back to me and now I wonder if I ever suffered at all because the pain is so far away now. I love you, Christina. You have no idea how much!"

Christina was full of smiles at his words. She reached for the shower gel and Fabrice closed his eyes on a sigh when she began to glide her warm soapy hands all over his body. 

While she continued to explore every inch of his solid muscular body Fabrice turned slightly to pick up a bottle of shampoo. Her hair was gorgeous and he realised he would always adore running his fingers through its silken softness. After a few minutes of lathering the shampoo through her hair Fabrice reluctantly drew her under the spray of the shower head and rinsed the bubbles away. He watched in fascinated wonder the warm soapy trails moving rapidly and slowly down her gorgeously tight body. He tweaked her nipples until they ached for him and he could feel his passion for her burning in his groin. 

Her hair was a tangled mess once the bubbles were gone but Fabrice was already spreading the conditioner on his fingers that would make it smooth and silky again. His labour of love was halted however when Christina turned her back to him and pressed her soft buttocks against his hard cock.

The movement from the corner of his eye captured him so intensely his breath remained in his lungs for terminally long seconds until it suddenly left his lips in a loud gush. As Christina reached her wonderful fingers back to stroke his hard cock to even greater arousal his eyes were glued to their steamy doubles reflected back at him through the fog-free mirror.

He watched awestruck as Christina raised both her arms above her head and looped them behind his neck. He felt how the divine contours of her buttocks and continued the killer caresses her hands had begun. He could see her breasts rising higher with the movement of her arms and reached immediately to cup them in his large hands. He couldn't contain them. The wanton look she gave him in the mirror as she pressed her buttocks harder against him robbed Fabrice of breath. The softness of her breasts beneath his shaking fingers robbed him of the ability to be gentle. When he watched her tongue snake out to capture the droplets of sweat forming on her upper lip all reason was completely driven from his body. He needed the release only she could give and as he pulled her head back roughly by the hair and sunk his teeth deeply into the tender flesh of her shoulder Christina knew she was finally going to get what she wanted.

"Christina. What I'm feeling is so strong I can't control it anymore."

The grin she gave him was evil in its intent and designed not to alleviate any of the sexual tension that was building between them. "You only ever had the control I gave you, baby," she whispered provocatively. With that said she leaned forward slightly and pressed her wet soapy breasts hard up against the glass wall of the shower.

Fabrice was mesmerised by the play of the flat glass against her breasts. He was insane in his lust for her.

Christina locked eyes with him in the mirror knowing full well the erotic image she was presenting to both of them. "Babe, sometimes a woman needs to be taken slowly, gently. She needs soft caresses and butterfly kisses..."

He nodded silently at her, thinking he understood her meaning but the next breathless words she spoke told him he wasn't even in the ballpark.

"This isn't one of those times, baby!" The fingers that suddenly dug deep into the flesh of her hips told Christina her words had found their mark. The time for tender caresses was over. Their lust controlled them now. It would be frantic. It would be violent. But release, when it came, would be the sweetest of surrenders.

Fabrice pulled the shower head down from the wall and adjusted the dial so the spray became one continuous jet of hot water. He maneuvered it in front of them and positioned it between Christina's legs.

His breath was hot on her neck. His words were demanding. "Open your legs Christina. I want to play."

She did as he asked and immediately felt the hot spray against her aching lips.

Fabrice grated his teeth against Christina's ear before whispering hoarsely. "If I direct this spray against your clit baby, will that make you come?" The glint in his eye was almost scary as he watched Christina's reaction to him play out on her face.

She managed a soft, "Yes."

Fabrice pulled Christina's hair until her cheek rested against his. The spray of the water was on Christina's inner thigh. So close yet so frustratingly far as well. "Before I make you come, Christina, I want to see you play. I want to see your spread your lips and rub your clit for me. Can you do that baby?"

Christina's eyes grew large as comprehension dawned on her. She had never masturbated in front of anybody before. 

As comprehension dawned on Christina, it also dawned on Fabrice. He realised this was new to her but in his lust-filled craze he was not about to withdraw his demand. He locked his hard green-eyed stare with her soft hazel-eyed one. "You will do this, Christina. You will do this or I will make sure you never find release."

Christina reacted immediately to Fabrice's threat and her hungry fingers hesitated for only a moment before they reached down to her aching pussy and started the caresses that would pull her inexorably to oblivion. When her clit was revealed to both of them it was all Fabrice could do not to thrust his cock deep inside her and end this madness now. But instead he waited. His time was coming.

Christina was lost in sensation. Her eyes were closed as she leaned her head back against Fabrice's shoulder. He watched her closely for any signs that indicated she was almost there. The moans that escaped her soft lips were driving Fabrice close to the edge but he had to wait. The undulations of her hips as the tension continued to build inside her drove her buttocks harder and harder against his cock. Fabrice could not take his eyes from the play of her naughty fingers.

"That's it baby... so close... so close now!"

As he continued to watch Christina closely he sensed a change in her movement. Things began to speed up for her. Her fingers were a blur as they drove her closer to her climax. He watched as the minutes ticked by. Closer. Closer. Closer. Until...

Christina's eyes flew open the instant Fabrice pulled her hands away from her body. She moaned her frustration loudly in his ear.

"Christina shhhhh. You didn't really think I would let you come on your fingers did you baby?'" He shook his head from side to side before dropping his face to the side of her neck. "That honour will only ever be mine now, Christina. You have already come on my fingers..." They danced tantalisingly close to her clit. "...and my tongue..." It flicked out to stroke the pulse beating rapidly in her neck. "Now my cock wants that honour, Christina."

These words marked the last coherent thing Fabrice said to Christina. Moments after speaking them his cock was deep inside her moist tightness; both of them only aware of each other and the connection they had, which, now made, could never be broken.

Thrusting into her from behind Fabrice quickly picked up speed. They were both racing for the end. Grinding against each other as the shower filled with their moans and the hard slapping sounds their bodies made as they fucked harder.

It was all becoming too much for Fabrice. When he opened his eyes all he saw was Christina, her wet hair whirling around her face as she moved against him. Her breasts flattened and then not flattened against the glass as he thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew. When he closed his eyes hoping to find a moment of peace in all this madness there was yet more sensation as her vaginal walls contracted ever more tightly against the welcome intrusion of his body into hers. He looked down to see the play of his cock, coated in her juices and his pre-come it moved slickly and rapidly in and out of her body. 

Christina tried to maintain her balance by plastering her hands against the wall of the shower. But as Fabrice's movements became more intense this became more difficult for her to do. Her legs were weak and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand. In the maelstrom of their passion Fabrice's words were carried to her as if from a great distance.

"Come for me, Christina. You first, then me. That's how it will always be honey."

Her eyes locked with his and the look she saw there left her in no doubt of the depth of feeling he had for her. As their bodies continued to move against each other a new tension began to build in Christina. It caused a tightening in her stomach and a death grip contraction deep inside her vagina. A split second later she was screaming out the intensity of her climax, writhing violently against Fabrice and shuddering involuntarily as he continued to thrust deeply into her hot flesh. 

Christina's climax inevitably drew Fabrice's out as well. His cock expelled hot spurts of come deep inside her that seemed to go on for an age. His balls ached with their release. Christina's hand reached between her legs and cupped them tenderly, massaging them soothingly as the spasms continued to wrack their tired bodies.

Long minutes later as the water continued to rain down on them and they were still desperately fighting for breath Fabrice's semi-hard cock fell from Christina's body and he turned her gently in his arms. In time they knew they would have to face their friends and no doubt a whole barrage of questions but for now there was only the two of them and they had no intention of ending this moment – just yet. He drew her into his arms and held her tightly. 

His lavender woman had a name now, a name forever imprinted in his soul.