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A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 01

By: victorecho



Preface It had been raining all day. It was a grey, steady, depressing rain that seemed to wash all the colours from the city, reminding you just how much of the city was built of stone, solid gray and unyielding. Paris had survived the rule of Louis XIV, had watched her citizens rebel in the French Revolution. She had been witness to the German tanks on the Champs Elysées, the very same streets that Napoleon had marched on. But today she was shrouded in rain, bearing witness to beginnings and endings. The Seine, seen from the Pont Neuf was black and heavy as if oil rather than water were flowing through its course. Tonight, everything seemed depressed, or maybe that was just their mood. Paris, the City of Lights. Gay Paris. People fell in love in Paris. Tonight there was very little happiness, despite the romantic setting. It was their last night together; she was flying out in the morning. He had to be in London by lunchtime which meant he had to be on the morning TGV. They had promised no regrets, only fun, but as the reality of the end loomed closer, the weather only helped accentuate their inevitable feelings.

The cafes and bistros, normally boisterous cauldrons of frenetic energy, tonight were deflated and almost tranquil. They were finishing their wine, the dinner long since cleared but the small dessert plates still in front of them. The cafe was only steps from his Paris apartment but neither of them seemed in any hurry to leave, content to sit and sip their wine, forestalling the inevitable separation. The remaining patrons were all local and the patois rolled over and around them and like the background music it was one more memory to cherish and remember as the minutes ticked by. He poured the last few drops of merlot from the carafe into their glasses.

"Une autre carafe, chérie?" He asked quietly, the empty carafe in his hand by way of enquiry.

"Non, merci," she said, shaking her head, almost sadly thinking how much her limited French had improved over the past week almost entirely through exposure to him and his friends.

They had met in a café like this almost a week ago. The meeting had been much less harmonious....

Chapter 1

"Sapristi! Tabarnac!" he spat as the hot coffee splashed over his front and hands, the mug that had contained it was sent tumbling to the floor along with the plate and croissant that was supposed to have been his breakfast. A couple of the patrons in the cafe looked up at his outburst but quickly returned to reading their papers leaving him to look at the woman who had blundered into him.

"Stupid French dolt," she spat, her American accent jarring to ears used to British enunciations and French. "Can't carry a muffin and coffee without fucking it up." She started flicking at the stain that was rapidly soaking into her cotton t-shirt, the result of the collision now reflected there.

"Madam," he said, adopting his cultured British speech, "I am neither French, nor a dolt, and if you had not been walking backwards, while yakking into your cell phone and instead actually looking where you were going, you would not be wearing my coffee, nor the raspberry preserves that I was going to put on my croissant. Besides, they do not serve muffins here." He was impressed that he had managed to keep a straight face and his temper as he said that. He watched her go through several emotions. There was rage, certainly, almost an entitlement he had grown used to witnessing among Americans abroad especially in France, then embarrassment. "Perhaps I can offer you a napkin?" he suggested, handing her the paper napkin, all that remained of his breakfast. "Or would you prefer to put that in a washing machine before the stain sets?"

That was enough to set her off again. "Listen you...pig," she said, bitterly, "I was perfectly aware of where I was and what I was doing before you slammed into me and ruined my shirt. Do you have any idea how much this cost?" She was indignant, infuriated and if she admitted it to herself, embarrassed.

"I would say it cost 20 Euros at Benetton, but you can get them for as little as 5 Euros a pair at a little shop I know around the corner. And they come in a variety of colours too if you would prefer something other than white. Or you could go the other direction to my apartment where I have a washing machine and I won't even charge you a buck. That is, unless you have figured out where you are and think you have any chance of making your meeting on time, which, by the way you won't make because you are in the wrong part of the city."

"How do you know I am late?" she asked startled. "Are you following me?"

"Most of the cafe knows you are late, or at least those that speak English as that is what you were yelling about before you backed into me, just after you said 'how the hell should I know, all the signs are in French.' Which I hazard to point out is a common occurrence in a country that speaks French." He was smiling at her now, the absurdity of the situation almost too much to bear anymore. "So, since you will be late anyway, why not reschedule the meeting, get yourself cleaned up and then let me point you in the right direction?"

While she considered his offer, he took a moment to look at her. She was medium height and willowy, almost boyishly slim but with enough curves to highlight the fact she was a woman. The now coffee-stained white t-shirt was tucked into a pair of well fitting jeans and her feet were sporting a pair of those plastic abominations that he knew were all the rage in the States. He had several friends swear up and down that they were comfortable but besides being ugly to look at, he just could not imagine wearing that much plastic and not having his feet swimming in sweat. Of course, he was wearing a pair of custom leather boots, more appropriate for the middle ages so his opinion on footwear mattered little and he did not expect she would appreciate his comments on her shoes anymore than she seemed to appreciate him pointing out her tardiness. His own jeans had seen better days but they were comfortable and it was early enough in the day that comfort was more important than fashion, even in Paris. He had pulled on a black t-shirt which, while not his normal colour worked well with what was left of his summer tan and short blonde hair. Her hair was a mop of brown curls but what really got your attention, after you got over her sharp tongue, was her eyes. They were brown, but they seemed to be light when first seen and get deeper the more you looked at them, as if she was drawing you in to her with each glance. He was smitten; there was no question about it, even though she was wearing his breakfast which somehow only seemed to make her more attractive to him.

"How far away am I?" she asked, her voice shaking as if trying to find a way out of the inevitable. 

They had stepped out of the doorway and were now standing next to an empty table, which he suggested they sit down at and flagged down a waiter to get them two coffees while he pulled out his little pocket map of the city.

"Hey, even I get turned around here," he said by way of explanation to her unasked question as he flipped through the pages. "OK, we are here in the Latin Quarter, just off Rue de Cluny," he said, drawing his fingers along the street on which they were eating. "If you go south a couple of more blocks, you will run into La Sorbonne. You," he flipped the pages to the index, "said you were trying to find Rue de Cerisoles...which...is on," he flipped to the index, found the map reference and page and showed her the location, in micro-scale, which was just south of the Arc de Triomphe off of the Champs Elysées. "You could be further away, but not much," he said with a bit of a grin. She was not amused, but sighed in defeat as the coffee arrived.

"How far away is it?" she asked, reaching for the sugar.

"Where you were supposed to be? Oh three or four miles, about twenty minutes by cab and maybe ten by Metro, but at this time of day, it could take an hour by cab what with morning traffic and all and it would take me that long to explain the Metro system to you enough that you actually made it there with all the right transfers, but that is only part of your problem," he said, indicating the stain on her shirt which had now spread to darken large sections, her bra underneath becoming quite visible.

She sighed again and reached for her cell phone, punching in a couple of numbers. He ignored her while she conversed with someone and tried to reschedule for the afternoon. She seemed thoroughly dejected when she hung up.

"First time in Paris?" he asked, trying to lighten her mood.

"Yes, and I am completely unprepared. I am trying to make a good impression on my new boss and it just is not going well." She seemed on the verge of tears as she told him that she was a junior fashion buyer for a company he had never heard of but it, in turn, supplied stores he knew when she mentioned them, how she and her boss, a lady named Rachel, had flown in yesterday and how Rachel was going on to Nice to look at fashions while she was supposed to deal with the Parisian purchases. She had gotten lost badly yesterday just looking around the city, did not have a good meal and was so hopelessly lost now that she was not even sure where her hotel was anymore.

"Garçon? Deux croissant s'il tu plait, avec du beurre," he said to the waiter going by the table as he reached across and took her hand. "My name is Alex," he said simply.

"Samantha," she said in response, taking a small sip of her coffee as the waiter brought their croissants. 

"Here, eat. You will need something in your stomach. Real French coffee is not the same stuff they serve at Starbucks and it has a mean kick if you are not used to it." He was gently rubbing her hand, unconsciously trying to sooth her anxiety, and she was not pulling away from him, which he took as a good sign. "The offer is still valid. We can get you cleaned up, or I can give you some good directions to get you back to your hotel and you can carry on from there. After you finish your breakfast of course," he added, smiling gently at her.

She looked at him. He was unshaven, but attractive nonetheless, his beard was a non-descript colour, blonde hair cut short and grey eyes that seemed to reflect the light rather than absorb it. He was not outstandingly handsome but his face was kind and she found herself relaxing slightly despite her anxiety and concerns. She followed his lead, pulling her hand away and buttered her croissant and they sat in companionable silence for a few moments while they ate.

"All right, I accept," she said finally, gathering up her things. "But no funny business, I have mace," she said sternly, looking at him hard and trying to decide if she really might need to use it.

Alex tried hard not to laugh, but it did not work so he picked up his knife to redirect his attention. "Trust a New Yorker to bring mace to Paris," he said.

"I am not a New Yorker. OK, so I live there, well in New Jersey, but I work in The City. I am from Des Moines originally though."

"Des Moines? You really are out of your element aren't you? How long have you been in New York?"

"About three months, I guess. I was a buyer for a chain in Des Moines and spent enough time going back and forth to New York that when this job opened I jumped at the chance to do it. Now I feel like I have really gotten in over my head."

"You don't speak any French, do you?" Alex asked before popping the end of his croissant into his mouth.

"Not a word," she admitted washing down the last of her croissant with the last of her coffee. "And it wasn't like I had a lot of time to learn it before I was told I was coming here, either."

"Well, we can fix that. Let's start with the basics. Le cafe," he said, lifting his mug of coffee. "That is a complicated one, because it is the beverage, and also the building we are in, not to be confused with a bistro, which serves more regular fair than pastries, les patisserie. Le croissant, avec du beurre, your croissant and butter, sur la table, on the table. You try."

She did and it took a conscious effort for him not to flinch as he listened to her. Her accent was terrible. Midwestern twang and New York drawl and she stumbled but showed promise. Alex tried not to laugh at her attempts and promised her plenty of opportunities to practice if she was willing to try and learn. He forced himself to think back all those years. He had learned French at an early age, but the Parisian accent had taken longer to master than the idioms of the language had despite the help of good teachers. He would strive to help Samantha as much as he could. At this point he would be happy if she learned enough to be able to order dinner and catch a cab.

They were soon done with their breakfast and Alex directed the way out to the street, turning left and leading Samantha down along an alleyway that was a short cut to his building.

A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 02



"Salut Martin! Ça va?" he asked greeting of the owner of the Italian bistro on the first floor of his building who was coming back from the market. They knew each other quite well by now; Martin was giving Alex cooking lessons and Alex had installed wi-fi access and his point-of-sale packages and kept them running. Alex felt it was a good exchange and it had many benefits for both of them. Alex spent many a night on a corner stool in the bar chatting with the regular patrons or pouring drinks when it was really busy or someone was out sick. In return, Alex almost never had to buy dinner, a benefit when business was slow and he had learned a great number of secrets to making fast, tasty dinners that he had used to good advantage with friends and business associates alike. He was happy that Martin did not have a sister though, no matter how much Martin's mother liked him.

"Bonjour Alex. Bien. Et tu?"

"Bon, merci, Alex!" he said waving back as he unlocked the door and they climbed the stairs to the apartment.

"Wow, this place is beautiful," Samantha said, stepping into the room and looking around. 

It had taken him a while and more than a few francs to find this place initially. It was not large but it was a fairly open floor plan, only the bedroom and the adjoining bathroom had doors or even separating walls. The kitchen was along the back wall and the rest of the space was a great room. Wood floors with throw rugs to keep the noise down held a couple of deep couches and book cases. The entertainment centre, with a TV and stereo were against one wall. Opposite the kitchen wall was a series of high arched windows, the blinds fully retracted to let the morning light stream into the room. That it overlooked a small park and had a small Italian bistro on the ground level did not hurt its location either. 

"Make yourself comfortable. I will go and see if I can find you a shirt to put on while we throw yours in the laundry. Un moment."

Samantha took him at his word and looked around. The large square table, surrounded by the couches had all manner of things on it. Notebooks, loose papers, dishes, books and magazines, a couple of laptops, iPods and some other things she was not immediately familiar with. Most of the books were technical in nature. Things about how to build a network, managing your IT investment and in depth desktop management were just a few of the titles she saw. But there were just as many non-technical books scattered around on topics covering medieval history, American politics, language, immigration and there was even a comic book flopped open.

"Here, I think this should do," Alex said, coming back into the room. He had stripped off his coffee-stained shirt and was now wearing a grey polo. He passed her a cream coloured t-shirt and pointed back the way he had come saying, "Bedroom is through there. If you want to shower, go right ahead, the towels are clean. The laundry is here." He opened a closet door, behind which were a combination washer and dryer. "Just toss your shirt in and we will get it cleaned in a jiffy."

"What is it exactly that you do?" Samantha asked as she came around the end of the far couch, the collection of Jane's books having grabbed her attention from their nook on the bottom of the bookshelf. Of course, the twenty-two volume edition of the Oxford Dictionary, one of the volumes currently open on the stand next to the shelves had also piqued her curiosity as she had come past the bookcase.

"I dabble. I do a little of this and a little of that. I write, I work with computers, some basic assassination, even the occasional axe murder," he said with a smile when she jerked her head up, looking at him. "OK, I am kidding about the assassination part. I am a free spirit. An artist if you will. Really, I dabble," he said, trying to convince her.

"So how do you afford this place?" she asked waving her hand about generally. An apartment this size would have cost a month's salary in New York and she doubted the prices in Paris were any less steep. And here he was saying he 'dabbled?' She was beginning to think that dabbling paid better than working for a living, at least if this was any indication.

"What this dump? With its chrome appliances? And stellar view? Did I mention the satellite TV? No? Hmm, well, anyway, like I said, I dabble. I have sold a couple of books, I trade favors with those that have something I need and might not be able to pay for in the normal method and when things get really tight, I actually work for a living. I have a contract in London late next week in fact that will pay me enough to let me put my feet up and do nothing for the rest of the year if I really felt so inclined, but a friend has asked me to come to the Islands to winter with him and help figure out why his network has gone wonky, I believe that is the technical term he used, so I expect I will be able to feed myself for a couple of days yet." He was not sure if the look on her face was incredulity or simple disbelief. "So, go, strip, toss me out your shirt and we will take it from there, shall we?" She was still shaking her head as she walked into the bedroom, his t-shirt in her hand.

"So what does your wife think," Samantha asked a couple of minutes later, naked, but wrapped in a towel, tossing dirty clothing into the washing machine. "Where's the soap?"

"I will get it," Alex said, putting a laptop back on the table and walking around to a cupboard for the bottle of liquid detergent. "And my wife does not think anything of it because I do not have one. A wife that is." He measured and poured the soap in and turned the knobs and started the machine, closing the door behind him. "The towel suits you by the way," he said with a grin trying hard to look only at her face and not stare at the numerous parts of her body that were not well covered by the very short towel.

"Thanks," she said wryly. I am going to take a shower; I seem to have jam in my hair.

"Raspberry preserves actually and remember that C is for chaud, which over here means hot, don't burn yourself," he said, walking back around to his spot on the couch, trying not to look too leeringly at her strong legs or the slight bit of cleavage being displayed by the towel wrapped around her. He was trying not to think of her as sexy but it was quickly becoming a real challenge, even with her out of the room. He heard the shower turn on and tried to turn his focus back to working on the paper he was supposed to present six weeks from now, attempting to banish all thought of her from his mind and not doing a very good job of it.

Samantha was still shaking her head as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"The guy's a mental case, that has to be it," she said to her reflection, before sticking out her tongue at herself. "Cute, but a mental case." She closed the door, locked it, put the towel over the sink, and bent to turn on the shower, remembering his admonishment about the temperature. Trust the French to do things backwards she mused as she adjusted the temperature and stepped under the spray, pulling the shower curtain closed. 

"A cute, but rich mental case," she amended after she got herself wet and started soaping herself. "After all, how else could he afford something like this? The guy's got at least three laptops that I saw, a five thousand dollar plasma TV, and at least that in stereo components. Who knows how much they cost over here. And he writes and 'does favors?' At that rate, he must have done favors for either a lot of people or some pretty important people, or both. Or maybe it is just a lot of important people." She interrupted her musing to shampoo her hair, working to get the jam out of it. "Raspberry preserves, Samantha," she corrected herself as she ran her hands through her now clean hair. She had to admit though that as bad as the day had started out, things were not too bad now. Sylvia had been somewhat understanding about her getting lost and did not mind rescheduling overly much. What could have been a clothing disaster turned out for the best and she might even get a decent set of directions out of this guy. That is if he did not cut her up in to bite-sized pieces while she was wet and naked in the shower. This thought caused her to peek around the shower curtain. The bathroom was still empty, the towel was where she had left it and the bolt was still closed, locking the door from the inside. She let herself relax slightly and returned to her musings. For a moment, she let her mind go blank as the water washed away a little of the trepidation she was feeling. Her body shivered slightly, causing her nipples to harden in a way that she could feel, the skin tightening and the water hitting them in such a way that they tingled and set other parts of her body tingling. She let her soap covered hand slide over one of her nipples as her other hand slid over her clit, bring a slight moan from deep inside her to the surface.

"Pull yourself together Samantha," she said, taking her hands away from her body and turning her mind to think about Alex. There had to be something, some issue she had overlooked.

The only thing remaining, of the small things that she was unsure of, was if he was gay. He did not seem gay. His apartment was tastefully decorated she had to admit, but it was not screaming coordination. It seemed to be a collection of eclectic things that made sense or at least fit together economically. The couches, while large and comfy, were a utility pattern that could hide a multitude of sins and the carpets were simple and functional rather than garish and showy. He had some ancient maps of Paris and London and other cities that she did not immediately recognize scattered around the walls as decorations, along with some movie posters and other pieces of art that really did not seem to go together other than might be attributed to his taste, which she did not find all that bad when she considered it. No, she concluded, he was not gay, at least not outwardly. Come to think of it, she could have sworn that he was checking her out when she was wearing only a towel earlier. That was not something most gay men did. At least not in her limited experience. That thought made her nipples harden and her clit begin to throb but she would not give into the feelings and instead turned around and shut the water off.

Stepping out of the shower, she further considered that the bed was rumpled and unmade but the clothes were picked up except for some of the things on a chair in the corner where a couple of pairs of shoes also were sitting and there did not seem to be any indication of another woman either which made her feel better about his earlier statement that he did not have a wife. Of course this did not mean he had not ever had a wife, only that he currently did not have one. Why did this seem to matter to her she wondered? She looked around the bathroom which was pleasant but sparse of the sorts of things she was used to seeing in the bathrooms of her gay friends or even the couple of metrosexuals she had dated, guys that had spent even more time getting ready to go out than she did. He had a toothbrush, shampoo and soap. A couple of towels and a razor and that was it. He was a low maintenance man from the looks of things. So low, she chuckled to herself, that he probably saves a fortune in blades by only shaving once a week, which, oddly, got her wondering what he would look like in a tuxedo. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was reminded that she needed to do some grooming too. Maybe tonight she would have time to take care of that. She dried herself off, hung the towel up on the rod and pulled what remained of her clothes back on. The coffee had soaked through to her bra staining it on the front and back and she had tossed it into the laundry but she was hesitant about appearing in front of him without one on. However, she decided that she did not really have much choice and walked back into the great room.

To be continued...



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 03



"Chérie, at this rate, you will owe me more for the phone call than if I just came and fixed the problem," Alex was on the phone with two laptops open in front of him as Samantha came out of the bedroom. "Monique, I love you to pieces darling, but we are getting nowhere on this. Non, chérie, c'est vrai. It is going to need a more tender touch. Oui, I am calling you ham-fisted darling but don't take it personally." He had paused to listen to the woman, Monique, on the other end of the line and Samantha felt a small flash of jealousy. She decided to go and look at the book case near her instead of just standing around, eavesdropping and tried to get a handle on her emotions. The more she looked the more surprised she was with his eclectic tastes. There were more books on early American history with a focus on the Revolution and Civil War, which surprised her considering he was living in Paris. He had books on military history, pirates, a couple of shelves of philosophy and some titles in French that she did not even begin to try to translate.

"Eclectic, very eclectic," she said to herself as the book on erotic massage caught her attention.

"Monique, enough. I can be there for dinner. I should have it fixed before you finish the soufflé. Bon. A bientôt. See you this evening." He snapped the phone closed and pulled a leather book towards him. From where she was standing, Samantha saw that it was a calendar. He scribbled a little note in it and closed it, putting it back on top of the pile.

"Are you feeling a little better, Samantha?" he asked standing. "Can I offer you something to drink?" He walked over the closet that held the washing machine, pulled it open, and then opened the door on the dryer as well before opening the washing machine and scooping the contents out and into the dryer in a well practiced motion. He paused and pulled her shirt out of the pile and held it up, looking at it. "Merde," he muttered. "Samantha, I am afraid this might take more work. The first pass didn't do it."

She walked over and he was almost painfully aware of her presence. She felt her nipples, which free of the bra containing them had hardened under the rubbing of the larger shirt and were hard nubs pressing against the fabric making her whole body tingle all over again. Her breasts were a good size, not large but balanced with her frame and he was guessing that they would have a lovely weight to them. The white shirt he was holding in his hands, however, was pretty much a lost cause.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath. "What about my bra," she said without thinking about the implications.

He fished around in the dryer and pulled it out, the coffee stain clearly evident on the band and left cup. A 34B he noted as he passed it over to her. "Nope, looks like we are oh for two."

Samantha was not sure whether to cry, throw things or just curl up in defeat. This day, this trip was not turning into the enjoyable experience she hoped it would be. And now she had to replace her most basic clothing with her limited budget.

"I could make a suggestion," he said, somewhat hesitantly, not sure how she would react.

"Sure, go for it," she said, crumpling the ruined bra in her hand wondering what was coming next, fighting to restrain the tears. 

"There is a store a couple of blocks over where you can get a new bra and t-shirt. I would even be happy to pay for them, since I am the pig that cannot look where he is going," he said with a smirk.

"You are terrible," she said throwing the bra at him and struggling not to smile at him, because of the absurdity of the situation, his unlooked for kindness and just how attractive she found him at that moment. She did not want to lead him on and give him the wrong idea when she herself was so mixed up but she also wanted to rip his clothes off at that moment.

"Is that a yes?" he said, deftly catching the bra and wrapping the wet t-shirt around it before turning to put them both in the garbage. He busied himself with starting the dryer while she made up her mind.

"Yes, it's a yes. Not that I have much choice in the matter." She was grinning broadly now and trying hard not to laugh out loud. There was something about him that made her feel like everything would be alright.

"Good. Let me get you a cover-up, unless you want to go out like that," he said thinking that she looked sexy with her nipples pressing against the shirt and feeling certain she would not be happy with so much showing.

Samantha looked down and was mortified, quickly crossing her arms across her chest.

"Don't tell me you are embarrassed," he said. "You don't have anything to be embarrassed about. Personally I find them quite lovely. Here," he tossed her a sweatshirt with the Sorbonne logo on it, his smirk quickly gone as she quickly pulled the sweatshirt over her head. 

"Ready?" 

"Yes."

They made their way back out to the street together and following his lead they were soon at a little shop that Samantha would never be able to find again if she had too.

"Here we are," he said, indicating that she should go in before him. It was a pleasant little place, not like any store she had ever been in. Unlike any store in the States she amended. There were a couple of aisles of t-shirts, some plain, some with sayings and logos on them. In the back there was a small lingerie section but after looking at the boxes for a couple of minutes, she was completely confused.

"I...," Samantha turned to look at Alex and found him over looking at t-shirts. "Alex, I have a problem," she said.

"You cannot find your size," he said walking over to her knowing immediately that she would be at a complete loss.

"No, I can't." The look on her face was that of a little girl and Alex did everything he could not to laugh at her and fought the urge to gather her up into his arms and kiss her.

"Here," he said, pulling a box off the middle back row and passing it to her. "Here you go, a basic white bra, 34B, or the French equivalent unless you wanted something frillier?"

"Basic white is fine. How did you know my size?"

"You threw your old one at me. I looked at the tag. Here, one basic white t-shirt. Although you look better in the cream if you asked me."

"You are something," she said looking around. They were the only ones in the store at the moment besides a slightly bored looking clerk at the register reading a copy of Paris Match.

"Anything else you need?"

"No, that is enough for now," she said. What she really wanted was a map, but she did not see one and was not about to ask him for any more help.

"Then let me pay for these and we will go back and you can put them on. Then we can go and find some lunch." He took the items up to the counter, the clerk rang them up and like that they were done. He passed her the plastic bag and they made their way back to the apartment.

"Alex, I don't have time for lunch. I have to get across town before two o'clock," she said as they stepped out into the street.

"Sure you do. It is a little after eleven. We will get you changed, hop on the Metro and let it take us to George Cinq station and grab lunch in a cafe along the Champs Elysées. If we can avoid anymore wardrobe malfunctions, you will make it to your meeting in plenty of time, unless there is something you needed from your hotel?"

"No, I have everything I need in here," she indicated her purse. "Wait, did you say you were going to come with me?" She was not sure if she was more scared that he was coming with her, or if she was scared that he might not come with her, leaving her to find her way alone.

"Of course. I did say I was going to point you in the right direction n'est pas? Well, it is easier to point you in the right direction when all I have to do is point you to the door, right?"

"Your logic is infallible," she said. "OK, I accept." A sudden wash of relief flowed through her as she accepted his offer despite feeling other parts of her tighten with excitement at the thought of him coming with her.

"Now we just have to get you properly attired," he said with a smile and she swatted him on the arm as they turned the corner and walked back to his apartment.

To be continued...



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 04



Samantha was certain she would never have had the courage to eat at the bistro he selected for their lunch, much less order from the menu in front of her. She was still trying to puzzle out some of the entries on the menu. He had ordered them some wine, admonishing her to avoid soda and make sure that water was Evian or some other bottled variety. The stew and breads that made up their lunch was delightful however, and she found herself quite hungry having forgotten that breakfast had been a while ago, despite the croissant, and dinner the night before had been so bad that she had only eaten half of the meager meal.

"Tonight we are having soufflé. I would take you to Martin's but that will have to wait for another night I am afraid," Alex said as he refilled her glass.

"Tonight?" she asked, startled.

"Certainly. Why? Did you have a date? I am sorry; I should have asked if you were free. I just assumed you were."

Samantha sat there looking at him. She really did not have any plans and suddenly the thought of going back to her empty hotel room seemed depressing. In fact, it seemed more than depressing really. She was in Paris after all and here was a guy, with no obvious attachments, offering to take her to dinner and show her things that a tourist might not see. That he was also good looking and seemed to have money did not hurt either. It only took her a moment to make up her mind, her nipples hardening under her bra in excitement as she responded.

"OK, soufflé it is." 

"Tres bien, chérie. I must confess though, that I am not cooking it and it is kind of a working dinner if you don't mind idle chatter with a friend of mine while I fix whatever she has broken. Monique, the lady I was talking to when you came out of the bedroom, runs a small business, lives just outside the city, and is one of those people around whom technology ceases to function on an alarmingly regular basis. Either that, or she is using it as an excuse to get me out to try her latest creations, I am not sure which," he said smiling, remembering the last meal she had whipped up for the pair of them. They had gotten incredibly drunk and ordered a pizza because the meal was inedible.

"It sounds like fun," Samantha said, again the slight pull of jealousy hitting her and confounding her at the same time. "Well, I have a meeting to get to."

"So you do. One moment," he got up and walked over to the bar to pay their bill and returned to pick up his bag and hold the chair for her. "This way," he said as they walked out of the cafe and made their way across the Champs Elysées dodging taxis and Citröens with equal abandon.

As they walked a couple of small blocks, Alex took a few moments and pointed out some of the historical and trivial items of note. Samantha found herself paying close attention to what he was saying and the way he said it, occasionally laughing when he would slip in to a bad German accent and loving the lyrical nature of his French as he pointed out the places from World War II or of national or historic significance to the French or even an American abroad. She wondered where he was from. His French was accepted by the locals, an accomplishment she knew was not something a foreigner could generally do. He seemed perfectly at home here, but something about him made her think he was not a native. He had gone native but France was not where he was born, she was fairly certain.

"And here we are, Rue de Cerisoles, as promised. Your shop should be on the other side of the street. I will be in that cafe," he pointed to one a little farther down on the Champs Elysées, "in about an hour, I have to go and take care of a couple of things while I am on this side of town. Here is the number to my cell. Good luck." He passed her a business card and kissed her quickly on the cheek and was gone before she could even say thank you. 

Samantha took a moment to look at the card.

Alexander Gordon

Author, IT Specialist, Layabout

It had his number and email address. Actually, it had several numbers. His card listed a Paris number, a London number, a Toronto number and a Washington, DC number. Well that explained his English skills. No one moved through the three other cities without being able to speak English and she was beginning to suspect he grew up in either Toronto or in Washington as his English was unaccented, or at least lacked any sort of British accent, accept when he was teasing her or putting on airs, such as when she had backed into him.

"This guy really gets around," she said to no one in particular. "His cell phone bill alone must be outrageous." Samantha tucked the card into her purse and made her way towards the shop and hopefully some good deals or at least she hoped to find something acceptable to Rachel's hypercritical eye.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 05



Samantha found him three hours later, sitting with his back to the cafe, facing towards the Arc de Triomphe, his laptop open in front of him, but not actively in use as he seemed to be reading a newspaper, a glass of wine in one hand looking for all the world like he was sitting in his living room. And for all she knew, he could be. She was beginning to get the feeling that she could drop him in any city in the world and he would be as comfortable as if he was at home and even then she was still not sure where his home was.

She found herself studying him. He was broad across the shoulders as if he lifted weights or maybe swam when he was younger, but his hands were fine boned with long fingers that she had seen were quite dexterous in the way they danced across a keyboard. His waist was narrow and he seemed to have a smooth gait when he walked. His ass was well defined, something she liked, and she suspected that his legs were as well muscled as his arms were, defined, but not overly big. Attractive and unmarred by any tattoos, at least that she had seen thus far. Just looking at him made her happy and only served to highlight her loneliness.

It had been four months since she and Don had broken up. He was not in favor of her move to New York. In fact, he was so opposed to it that he had laid down an ultimatum of it or him. She had chosen the job. It was a step up and she knew that if she stayed in Des Moines, she would likely wind up pregnant and without much of a future ahead of her and she was not ready for that sort of life. She wanted to live, to see the world while she was still young. She wanted to do things and Des Moines was, to her eyes, a very small place to one who had seen what New York had to offer. After spending two hours with Sylvia, she felt, even more, that she had made the right choice, even if she was out of her element at the moment. But four months without a man in her life also meant four months without companionship and she found herself getting excited just thinking about what Alex might look like naked. She found herself smiling. She could certainly do worse than an English speaking Frenchman she thought to herself, hurrying her steps towards the table.

"Ah, bonjour mademoiselle. Ca va?" he asked, turning towards her, standing up, smiling and trying not to undress her with his eyes, despite it being something he very much wanted to do with his hands.

She felt the overwhelming desire to hug him and she gave into it, wrapping her arms around him, trapping one against his side. Alex was surprised, but willing to wrap his free hand around her, pulling her close. She looked up at him and he followed his instinct to kiss her, lightly on the lips, ready to pull away if the kiss was not returned. Samantha was momentarily surprised by the kiss, but rather than pull back, she pushed forward, her tongue seeking his mouth, her hands pulling her closer to him and holding him. For several minutes they stood locked in their embrace, hands gently rubbing bodies, lips sliding against each other, tongues fencing. The kiss ended by mutual agreement, but neither one let go of the other for several minutes more.

"Good afternoon, Alex. Is there another glass of that," she indicated the empty wine glass he had been drinking from which now was sitting empty on the table.

"Another and another and another if you wish it, but I would also suggest some cheese and bread, otherwise we will be in no shape to visit Monique, and I really must see her this evening and I must be sober or somewhat close to it or she will be in such a state in the morning that it might take me a week to calm her down, at least without heavy medication. You know how these French women are. They are almost as hard to manage as a Hollywood starlet just out of Betty Ford."

Samantha laughed and let go of him, pulling out a chair as he got the waiter's attention and ordered up the next round. 

"And what would you know about managing Hollywood starlets?" she asked, taking a sip of the wine. It was cool and tasted wonderful. Light and fruity, just like his kisses. She sat and looked at him with heat in her eyes.

"That is a rather long story I am afraid," he said, taking a sip of his own.

"So? You have a date?" she said, licking her lips and running her foot up his leg

"As a matter of a fact, yes, I do," he said with a wry smile. "So, Hollywood starlets. I was working in Los Angeles, oh, three, four years ago I guess, and ran into this guy at a bar." Samantha raised her eyebrows at this. "Well, I don't play tennis, so I am more likely to run into someone in a bar, although the occasional strip joint also has shown promise," he said, drifting off slightly as the waiter brought out a small platter of cheese, some bread, and more wine.

"I can only imagine what you were doing in a strip joint," she said, slightly thrilled by the idea and wondering if she would get the opportunity to join him in one at a future date.

"I was appreciating the art," Alex said with a straight face. Samantha laughed back at his antics.

"And why do I not believe that," she said, her laughter infections as Alex could not hold back anymore and burst out laughing, finding himself more and more attracted to her with each passing moment.

After finishing their afternoon snack, the pair spent what was left of the afternoon walking along the boulevard, talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. Kisses were frequent, as were touches and hugs and by the time they walked up to a taxi stand their hands were firmly laced together.

"In you get," Alex said, opening the door for Samantha. He climbed in next to her and gave the driver the address before he sat back beside her. "Hold on, there is nothing like driving in Paris at rush hour," he said as the taxi took off at high speed making a u-turn back the way they came and racing towards the Arc de Triomphe and the large knot of cars that were going around it. Forty-five minutes later the taxi pulled into a large circular driveway fronting a large house on the outskirts of Paris. While not quite a chateau, it was certainly larger than any house Samantha had ever seen or been to before. Alex paid the fare and they climbed out starting up the stairs where they were met by what only could be described as a butler.

"Good evening, sir," he said, his British accent flawless and exactly what Samantha would have expected and seemed to be missing completely from Alex's speech patterns.

"Good evening Greg how are you this evening?" Alex asked in response, reaching out to shake the man's hand in greeting.

"I am enjoying robust health, thank you, sir. Madam is on the terrace and asks that you join her there. You will be staying for dinner?"

"Yes, we will. Greg, I would like you to meet my friend Samantha, from New York, who is visiting for a few days."

"A distinct pleasure my dear," Greg said, bowing slightly towards her. "Shall I bring you a drink?" he continued as the three of them entered the foyer. Marble, gold, glass and mahogany were her first impressions of the space along with a monstrous crystal chandelier at least twenty feet above her head. The room's proportions were immense, and this was just the entryway. She was afraid of what the rest of the house would be like and if she was properly attired to be there. Alex, it seemed, really did know some interesting people.

"Is Monique drinking?" Alex asked.

"Champagne, of course," Greg replied with a bit of a smile. Samantha was beginning to think there was more here than met the eye, but she was not sure exactly what it was.

"Of course. Two glasses should suffice then, Greg, when you get a moment, and probably another bottle. Dare I ask, but has she been cooking?" he said this last in a stage whisper and Samantha looked at him.

"No, I have managed to keep her out of the kitchen today," Greg responded in a similarly conspiratorial tone.

"Wonderful, then we will not be eating Italian tonight," he said and started laughing with Greg. Quickly he explained the joke to Samantha and they took their leave of Greg and walked across the foyer to a set of French doors on the opposite side that opened onto the terrace.

"Greg is a wonderful guy," Alex started to say. "Monique would be lost without him and I think he would be lost without her. This way," he continued, as they stepped through the doors and out onto a large porch that fit between the two wings of the house and overlooked a pool and gardens. Sitting in the fading evening light was a woman that to Samantha looked to be about 60. She had grey hair cut short, but tasteful and she was lying on a lounge chair, a magazine in her hand and a champagne flute sitting on a table nearby.

"Bon soir, Monique, ca va?" Alex said as they stepped onto the terrace.

She turned slowly but smiled when she saw him. "Alexander, my savior! And you brought dessert, how lovely!"

"Down you old harridan, she is not for you. If you are feeling frisky, go jump Greg," he said with a laugh as he walked over and kissed her on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, same as always, no better, no worse darling," her cultured French accented English was soothing to the ear and Samantha found herself smiling and liking her already.

"Monique, I would like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Samantha, who is visiting for a couple of days. Samantha, this is my dear friend Monique, our hostess tonight."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Samantha said, taking her hand.

"Enchante, the pleasure is all mine chérie," Monique said, her accent changing as she slipped in and out of French, a happy gleam in her eye.

"Hands off, Monique," Alex said, playfully extracting Samantha's hand from Monique's. "Greg is bringing glasses and another bottle, but, from the looks of things, you don't need another one. I will go and see what sort of a mess you have left for me this time while the two of you get acquainted. Samantha, do not let her get away with anything. If she senses weakness, you are lost. If things get really desperate, yell and I will come running." Alex was smiling broadly as he said all this and took his leave of the two women as Greg came through the door with the glasses, saying he would be in the office.

"Sit, please, sit," Monique said to Samantha, indicating the other lounge chair. "So, what should we toast? I know, let's toast Alexander. Without him, I would be a pauper!" They drank their toast and Samantha sat back on her chair enjoying the lovely evening air and beautiful sunset.

"So what shall we talk about," Monique said in opening. "How long have you known Alexander?"

"It seems like all my life, but we really just met this morning," Samantha said blushing slightly with the memory.

"Really? Well, he is a charmer isn't he? And so talented. So how did you meet him?" 

Samantha took a deep breath, a sip of the tart, bubbly wine and launched into the story about their initial collision and everything that had happened since. The two of them were still chattering away when Alex came back onto the terrace a while later. The sun had set and lights around the terrace and out in the garden had come on, providing a soft glow lightly illuminating the two women.

"Having fun ladies?" he asked as he pulled the champagne bottle from the ice, pouring himself a glass, only to end up with a dribble in the bottom. "Yes, I can see you have been," he said ruefully.

"Oh, not to worry Alexander, there is plenty more. Did you have success?"

"A little. I am going to have to order a couple of parts and do some more work on the server as well as order some parts for the fabricator, but I can do that from home tomorrow. In the meantime, you can process orders, in fact, it has been doing that, and the raw artwork and the designs are safe. You just won't be able to fabricate much until I get those parts. Josephine will have to do some work I am afraid."

"Bah, a little work would do her good you know," Monique said with no sympathy or humor in her voice.

"You could just fire her, Monique."

"And have her bemoan her lack of funds? Bah, I will not put up with that nonsense any more Alexander, you know that. And don't tell me to turn her out; we have been through that before several times. I cannot put my own daughter out on the streets to fend for herself, I cannot do that."

"And have her try to have you committed for doing it, yes, I know," he sighed and drained what little was in his glass then picked up Samantha's with a wink and took a healthy swallow. "I owe you one," he said to her.

"Monique, what if I could find her something that would keep her out of trouble?"

"Alexander, you have already done so much for me, I could not ask you to do that."

"Who said you were asking, chérie? I am offering. In fact, I might even have something, and it would not be in Paris, if you could put up with that."

"It would be difficult, but I think I could manage that darling. What are you thinking?"

"Not to worry, I will let you know when I have something more solid. Look at it this way; I am calling in a favor to make your life easier and to pay you back for all your kindness."

"You owe me nothing, Alexander darling. She made your life hell for so long that I am the one that should still be in your debt for keeping your head and helping her when you could have just walked away from it all."

"If you will excuse me," Greg said, interrupting the discussion, "dinner is served."

"Thank you Greg. Alexander, could you get my chair for me please?" Monique asked even as he was in motion to the other side of her lounge where Samantha saw a wheelchair that thus far she had not noticed while she had been talking with Monique.

Samantha started scooping up the glasses and Greg quickly moved over to relieve her of her burden, leading to a small battle of wills that resulted in a truce where Greg carried the ice bucket and empty bottle and Samantha carried the glasses while Alex helped Monique into her chair and joined the line heading back into the house and the dining room.

"Samantha, sit here on my right and Alexander, on my left," Monique said while Greg went into the kitchen. "Alexander, would you pour the wine, please?

Greg came back into the room, carrying a dish, the soufflé brimming over the top. He put it on the table and started serving it until the four of them had a plate piled high with the fluffy confection. Served along with it was cold roast beef, fresh bread and garden greens, a simple dinner, on fine bone china and sterling silver.

"To good friends," Monique said, "old and new."

"To friends," the rest of them echoed.

Dinner was a lively affair, with Greg playing the foil to Monique's barbs, occasionally being rescued by Alex but well able to hold his own in the back and forth nature of the conversation as it moved around the table. Samantha was amazed at the way the conversation flowed around the room, from one to the other, always including her and giving her a chance to voice her opinion, which was a new feeling for her. Her family never really asked her opinion, or that of her mother. Her father and three brothers thought that the opinions of women were not relevant. It was a backwards view that many in her small home town seemed to share and had coloured her opinions of the world at large. This was a wonderful change and she reveled in it. She was also beginning to understand why Alex was so fascinating to her. He seemed to know a little bit about everything, which, on reflection was not that surprising having been inside his apartment and seen his eclectic book collection, but it was the way he seemed to draw conclusions from what appeared to be unrelated facts that really surprised her.

"Samantha, we never did get around to what you are doing here?" Monique asked after the dinner had been finished.

"I am trying to make a name for myself," Samantha said. "I am a clothing buyer, or at least I hope to be a clothing buyer. I have several meetings this week with a variety of people and I hope to find a couple of things in sufficient quantity to take back to the United States with me. I had my first meeting today with a Sylvia Beauchamp," she finished, a slight look of disgust on her face.

"Sylvie! How is that old battleaxe? Does she still have that dusty place down from the Champs Elysées? It was a dump ten years ago and she is such a tightwad. I cannot imagine that you would have found anything in her shop of interest."

"You know her? Yes, it was a rather dark, dingy place now that you mention it. Very hard to see the fabrics she was trying to sell me come to think of it. I hope the rest of the week goes better than today did." Samantha tried not to sound bitter but she was. Things really were not starting out well in her opinion.

"But dear, how can it be a bad day when it leads to you meeting Alexander? Why, that should put any dealings with Sylvia completely out of your mind!" Monique said with some feeling. "But don't worry about it. Who else are you going to see? Tell me everything dear, I want to hear it all!"

"What if we take this into the parlor before she answers that Monique?" Alex suggested, knowing that Monique was about to spout forth all sorts of things that would help Samantha, but would block the delivery of dessert if they were still sitting here. "You and Samantha can go and start and Greg and I will clean up and bring dessert into you."

"Alexander, you are a terrible man. Am I keeping you from your gateaux?" Monique said with a little laugh. "I am sure that Samantha would love to help me into the parlor and you can do the dishes. Bring the ice wine when you come please, dear," she said as Samantha got up to help her out of room and Greg and Alex began clearing the table.

"The soufflé was wonderful as always Greg. You have not lost your touch. Light and airy," Alex said as they scrapped the dishes and he started the water in the large kitchen sink, pouring in soap before gently washing the china.

"It's your recipe Alex," he said with a laugh. "But thank you. Here," he passed him the trencher that had held the meat.

"How is she doing, really, Greg? She's hiding it from me again."

"She is in pain. She is hiding it from me too, but she is in pain. She takes her medicine more than four times a day and is sleeping a lot. You have seen her awake for the longest period in three days. She has a doctor's appointment tomorrow and Gaston is coming by in the afternoon."

"Gaston? She's rewriting her will again?"

"Yes. Josephine has been a real pain this month and I am sure that is part of it. I know it cannot be helping her health either with the added stress and the fighting between them. I expect her actually before the night is over. She has been here almost every day although if she knows you are here, then she may not come."

"So Monique has been playing with her software to get me out here has she? Unless she told Josephine that I am here, I don't know how she is going to know. I certainly have not talked with her recently."

"Yes, I am afraid so. Sorry, I tried to stop her, but she said she would not impinge on your friendship by just asking you to come out to keep Josephine from coming by."

Alex put the dish he was washing into the rinse sink and turned to look at Greg.

"Greg, you have my numbers. I don't mind fixing what she breaks, really, but I will come out anytime she wants me to come out. I will even read her a bedtime story, or the headlines from Le Monde."

"I know Alex, I know, but she won't let me."

"So don't tell her. Our secret old friend and when she sleeps we can clean the pool," Alex said with a laugh moving to the next glass while Greg fished the plate out of the sink.

"The pool really does need cleaning doesn't it," Greg said with a chuckle.

"Yes. So hire a service. You are getting too old to be keeping it clean by yourself. Find one with a couple of sexy women and make sure Monique knows when they are coming so she is awake to watch. I am sure that it won't be too hard to find one, but if you can't let me know, I will see if I can one."




A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 05



"How many people do you know?"

"Me? Oh, a couple-of-a-dozen I suppose, but they all seem to be well connected."

"OK, I will see what I can do and I will call you if I get stuck. Deal?"

"Fair enough. OK, is this the last dish?" Alex asked as he finished soaping the champagne flute, looking around at the various surfaces.

"That is the last we have to do. The rest are in the dishwasher and I will start that after the dessert dishes are put in. Can you get the wine out of the refrigerator and I will slice the cake and then we can rejoin the ladies.

"Alex, do you know what Monique does?" Samantha asked as they came into the room a few minutes later, Alex carrying a tray of glasses filled with the thick sweet wine while Greg carried a tray with four plates of chocolate cake, napkins and silverware.

"What does Monique do?" Alex asked, putting the tray on a side table and picking up two glasses, passing one to Monique and the other to Samantha.

"She's a fashion designer!" Samantha practically screamed at him giddy with her new found knowledge, practically bouncing where she sat on her chair.

"She is? Monique, you old fraud, you told me you made dresses," Alex said with a smile.

"Well, I do make dresses. I just get to sell them for millions of dollars." Monique's response was so off-hand that Alex could not help but laugh at her antics.

"Alex! You knew this."

"Of course I did. What of it?"

"You didn't think it could help me?"

"I was unaware that you needed help Samantha. Actually, in the last few hours, you seemed to be holding your own quite nicely, so I figured you didn't need any help at all. Now if you feel you need help, please, ask for it and I am sure I can put you in touch with someone that might be of service. For example, I have a friend who designs for Channel and Fendi, at least when she isn't trying to keep Karl from buying up all her designs, that is, who might have a lead or two that you could use to find something that might work in those little shops you are looking to fill. Should I introduce her to you?" Everyone in the room was trying hard not to laugh when he finished talking and even he found it difficult to keep a straight face.

Samantha put down her plate and glass and stood up, walked over to where Alex was sitting, took his plate out of his hand and put it on the table beside him and kissed him where he sat, hard and deep and with passion, her weight balanced on the armrests of his chair. Alex cupped her face with one hand while resting his other against her side.

"I take it that is a yes?" he asked when she let him breathe again.

"Yes!"

"OK. Monique, have you met my friend Samantha? I think the two of you might be able to horse trade?"

Monique broke up laughing and even Greg was chuckling while tears of mirth rolled down Samantha's face.

"Thank you," Samantha said simply, kissing him again.

"For what? You were the one who walked into me and called me some nasty names if I recall correctly." That set the room off again and the evening passed with much merriment, a discussion of women's hemlines, and why a size 6 is never just a size 6. It was all surreal in some respects and Greg and Alex did their best to keep their opinions of women's fashions to themselves. The conversation rolled around and back and forth for several hours before Alex called a halt to the discussions. It would take a while to get home and it was already late. Greg took them to the train station where they waited quietly on the platform with the other late night passengers for the train.

"Well, Samantha, did you enjoy your day?" Alex asked her slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to himself.

"Hmm...," she began drowsily, "it was wonderful, Alex. Thank you and thank you for introducing me to Monique. She said I should call on her tomorrow and she would tell me who I should go and talk to after I told her who I had appointments with. She said I should keep my morning appointment though. She thought I might find some things that would suit."

"Good. Well, we will be back in Paris in 30 minutes or so and I will help you get to your hotel and you can curl up and get some sleep so you will be rested for tomorrow's meeting."

"I have a better idea," she said wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her and kissing him soundly. She could feel him stirring against her body as she felt her own body responding to his presence and the kiss. There was no question in her mind what she wanted to do. She was hoping that convincing him would not be a tough issue.

"And what would that be," he asked as she pulled back slightly, nibbling his chin and jaw.

"Take me to my hotel, let me collect a change of clothes, then take me to your bed and make love with me," she whispered into his ear. "Make love with me until we have to get up tomorrow morning."

"You make a compelling offer," he said, kissing her back, feeling the softness of her skin and nibbling on her earlobe. Her breath came in short gasps as he rimmed her ear with his tongue.

"So is that a yes," she sighed.

"Yes," he said as the train pulled into the station while they continued to kiss. 



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 06



The street outside his apartment was quiet. The revelers had sought their own homes hours earlier, Martin's bistro was closed and the morning was well started by the time they got through the door. They had kissed most of the way to her hotel and by unspoken agreement she had packed her bags and checked out of the hotel in what seemed like one smooth motion. After all, why pay for a hotel room when it looked like she was going to spend the rest of her time in his bed. If for some reason it did not work out, which she had no doubts of, she was sure Monique would put her up. Alex picked up her bag as they climbed the stairs and he put it next to the chair when they got inside.

"Alex, make love with me," she said, kissing him again, her hands going around his waist, trying to pull the shirt out of his pants while kissing him. He was kissing her back, distracting and disorienting her as he steered her into the bedroom. She pulled away from him and pulled the shirt out of his pants and in one motion over his head. His skin seemed to glow as she kissed his chest, slowly teasing him, his breath coming in short gasps as he ran his hands through her hair. She slowly ran her tongue around his hard nipple feeling his heart thump in response. She was tingly as she kissed his body. She wanted to feel him, touch him, taste him and began kissing his stomach and undoing his belt and the buttons of his pants. She was surprised, but happy to find that he was not wearing any briefs, his cock immediately accessible, hard and thick and alive under her hands and already oozing in anticipation and inviting her to take a taste. She was drawn to it, her lips closing over the tip, sucking the head into her mouth, her hands pushing his pants down before returning to cup his balls, slowly squeezing them and stroking his shaft as she sucked and licked him. She could feel him swell under her touch, his taste filling her mouth, sliding down her throat. A moan of excitement escaped them both as she kissed her way back up and pulled him to her, kissing him hard as he pulled her closer to him.

"That was lovely," he said, kissing her chin gently as he slid her shirt out of her pants and slowly ran his hands up her side, pushing the shirt ahead of him and running his fingers over her ribs, gently tickling and caressing her, feeling her purr as he pulled the shirt over her head, kissing her neck as he removed her bra and ran his fingers over her breasts and nipples, feeling them swell and harden under his touch, the skin around them crinkling with her excitement. Her breathing became ragged as he took one nipple into his mouth and gently sucked on it. She was moaning harder and harder as he moved back and forth between her nipples, his hands moving at her waist, undoing her pants and pushing them off of her slim hips and slowly kissing his way down to her stomach relishing the taste of her soft skin and feeling the dance of her muscles beneath it.

"Lay down," he said, finishing the act of taking his pants off, and then hers as she crawled up to the middle of the bed. He kissed her toes as she was lying there, looking sexy and wanting everything he could give her. He slowly kissed his way up her legs, tickling her knees with his tongue. The skin on the inside of her thighs was soft as he kissed his way slowly to the junction of her legs which was wet, the lips puffy and swollen with her desire. Her clit, too, was swollen, a little white nub poking out of soft pink skin. She moaned as he ran his tongue slowly over the soft, bare, folds, drawing more moans as he probed and licked and sucked. He started flicking her clit with his tongue and her hips started twitching and her breathing became more erratic. Her orgasm crashed through her almost without warning, but no less enjoyable as it crashed her against the bed screaming in pleasure and calling his name.

"Come here, take me," she said, pulling him up and pulling him inside her. They both moaned in delight and desire as she squeezed him tight, wrapping her legs around him and urging him to slide in and out of her hard and fast which he was more than willing to do, pounding in and out of her in ever increasing speed, sweat pouring off their bodies as their lips sought each other, their orgasms building and crashing together, their tongues fencing with each other as they tried to become one person, his seed pouring into her as she squeezed him hard, tears rolling down her face. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she said as he rolled to her side, taking her in his arms.

"You are welcome and thank you," he said kissing her softly, but she was already asleep, the stress of the day catching up with her. He stroked her hair and was soon asleep beside her.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 07



The pounding on the door woke him. The faint light of early morning was filtering in through the half-drawn curtains. A quick glance at the clock was difficult with the lady laying on his arm and his watch. He managed to extract his arm without waking her as the pounding continued. It was not even eight o'clock yet.

"Alex, open the door." Pound. Pound. Pound. He was wondering what he had done to invoke this particular level of pain and suffering. Nothing came immediately to his mind as he made his way to the bedroom door. The pounding on the door only served to highlight his current fatigue.

"Alexander! Open this God damn door," she screamed, loud enough to wake Samantha.

"Who?" she said groggily.

"Shh, just the boogie man, although I was really hoping for Bonhomme this morning," he said as he pulled his pants on, buttoning them up as he walked into the great room, closing the door to the bedroom behind him. He was amazed at the pounding the door was taking as he undid the locks and opened it.

"Josephine, what a thoroughly unpleasant surprise. Could you be a little louder, I don't think Claude heard you and the poor man doesn't have to get up for work for at least another four hours," Alex said as she stormed into his apartment. He was about to close the door when he saw Claude stick his head out.

"J'ai pensé que vous avez vidé cette chienne ," he said before slamming his door. Poor Claude, Alex thought, knowing it would cost him at least a bottle of wine to mollify his neighbour.

"What were you doing at the house last night?" Josephine asked, spitting venom, as Alex walked over to the refrigerator.

"Visiting, fixing your mother's manufacturing system. Well mostly. It needs some parts. Someone seems to have broken one of the relays. You wouldn't know anything about that would you? Wine?" he asked, pulling an open bottle from the refrigerator and a glass from the shelf beside it. 

"It is only eight o'clock you drunkard," Josephine spit back.

"In France, but in California it is barely midnight and conversations with you go so much better with a Burgundy than they do sober," he said, taking a sip and walking over to the couches.

"Who's the slut you had with you?"

Alex was annoyed, annoyed at being rudely awoken after only four hours of sleep, annoyed that Josephine was here and annoyed that she was annoying him. Calling Samantha a slut was the last straw and not one he was prepared to take lightly he found to his surprise, regardless of his promises to Monique.

"Did you want something Josephine or do you take pleasure in continuing to make my life miserable?" There was frost in his voice as he settled back on the couch and closed his eyes, briefly hoping she would just go away and take the headache she had created between his eyes with her.

"Why is Mother changing her will?"

"I have no idea. Why don't you ask her? Did she cut you out again? Not that it is any of my business of course. Is that what this is about? You should know better than to come to me for sympathy and support on that front. I would not lobby for your entry into hell before the Devil himself, Josie, although I doubt I would have to mount a strong case." 

"Don't call me that."

She hated Josie. It was what her mother called her and it made her feel like an impotent little girl. Alex had long ago learned to stay out of the power games between Monique and her daughter, but occasionally, even his patience was tested. Samantha chose that moment to come out of the bedroom. She was a little sleep tousled and wearing his Sorbonne sweatshirt which she had pulled down to her mid-thigh.

"So, is this her?" Josephine asked, her tone catty.

"Lay off," he said, already up and walking around the couch. "Orange juice?" he asked Samantha softly, "Or coffee?"

"Both, please," she said looking at Josephine as a mouse might look at a cat.

"Go and have a seat. Samantha, I would like you to meet our most annoying alarm clock, Josephine, Monique's daughter. Josephine, this is Samantha." He was rummaging around in the refrigerator, pulling out juice and coffee, pouring her a healthy glass and taking it to her before starting to work on the coffee, all the while keeping himself between Josephine, who had not moved from the kitchen area, and Samantha who was now seated on a couch where she could see the windows and the kitchen with a slight turn of her head.

"Nothing for me, thank you," Josephine said snidely. "So, did he tell you about his wife?" 

"You are not staying," he retorted, "and you know damn well I have never been married," he said slopping water over the coffee machine as he tried to pour it in. Josephine was rattling him and he was not enjoying it.

"I am staying as long as I need too. You have not answered my question."

"Josephine, have you stopped taking your meds? Because this is pretty irrational even for you. If Monique is changing her will, she did not feel it necessary to tell me, either that she was doing it or what the changes might consist of. Therefore, I cannot answer your question and if that is all that is holding you here, then we are done and you know were the door is. If you think you are going to stay and play your games with Samantha, then I may take the option of the door away from you and escort you out the window. Perhaps, if I am lucky, you will hit the garbage truck before you hit the ground. Now get out." He was looking right at her as he said this and there was no question he was angry. His blood was flowing white hot and Josephine was first in line to feel the fury.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 08



Standing on the Petit Pont, Samantha Bowers thought she was the luckiest woman alive. As the daughter of an oppressive father, she had held out little hope of escaping his house except as the bride of a similarly narrow-minded husband. That she had managed to escape to New York had been a minor miracle to her mind and one she was constantly happy about. Then finding a job that would give her the opportunity to travel to Paris and other exotic locations was simply incomprehensible to her. She still felt that it was a dream and she would wake up to find herself pregnant in the bed of some strange man she had been forced to marry. And then, when it looked like she was on the verge of not only blowing the meeting but the entire opportunity, she had met a man that was caring, good looking and had the potential to help her in more ways than she could have hoped for. His passion in bed and that he seemed to actually care about her for no other reason than it was his good nature was just beyond anything she had hoped to achieve. If it was a dream, she did not want to wake up.

Alex had taken her back to bed after almost physically throwing Josephine out of his apartment, slamming the door and threatening to call the Gendarme if she persisted. Samantha had been shocked at both his vehemence and his actions as he spoke He had told her later that it was not a threat and that the Gendarme already had quite a file on Josephine but he would not elaborate more beyond that, saying the past was the past and it was behind him.

They had made love and showered and he had made them a breakfast that was more American than it was French. She had devoured every bite and two cups of coffee which he admitted was actually from Kona. It turns out he had a friend on the Big Island that ran a small plantation and every six weeks or so a shipment of coffee showed up. Alex told her that he gave most of it to Martin for use in the restaurant. An added draw, he described it. Be he did keep some for his own use. After they had finished breakfast and she had pulled on her clothes for the day, he had given her a small book, exactly like the map book he carried in his pocket. The first couple of pages contained a map of the Metro and the city, the next few were blank, although he had filled one with little tips about places to avoid and some rough advice that any tourist in the city might need. He had filled a couple of pages with phone numbers, his, Monique's, Martin's and a couple of others that he assured her she would want at some point if she needed to find him and he was not answering his cell. Not all of them were in Paris and some of the addresses were not even in France. He had added some of his favorite cafes, bistros, restaurants, shops and galleries, complete with their map locations to the list of numbers and names, but had left her more than plenty of unfilled pages that he assured her she would fill in her visits to Paris in the future. The book had come wrapped in a small box, accompanied by a gold tipped fountain pen. After all, he reasoned, she was in Paris and only the best would do for writing when one was in Paris and one should always take a moment to write when one was in Paris. The pen was a twin to the one he used, only with a purple body, while his was encased in blue.

He had kissed her on the door step, pointing her in the direction of the fashion district and making sure she knew where she was going before excusing himself and heading in the opposite direction, towards the station and the trains to Dijon and the parts he needed to fix Monique's dress maker. Greg was going to meet Samantha at the station in the early afternoon and Samantha and Monique were going to plan a better strategy for making sure that Samantha got what she needed without wasting her time chasing down mediocre merchandise. Alex would join them for dinner or as soon as he could get there.

Samantha took another deep breath and began her walk towards the fashion district. She was smiling slightly as she remembered that he had tucked a couple of francs in the book as well, for "mad money" he said and she seemed to remember that there were several lingerie shops listed in the book as well. She would give Monique a call before she decided which one to visit, once she was done with her meeting. Business first, she reasoned despite feeling happy and feeling like she owned the city. She walked deeper into the canyons that would lead her to her appointment.

"Good afternoon, mademoiselle, how are you this afternoon," Greg asked as he opened the door of the sedan for her.

"Hello, Greg. I am well enough, although I had a completely horrible meeting. It would seem that Maison de Ville does not 'deal with uncultured Americans, no matter who recommends them' and it would seem that my company's money is not enough to turn their opinions around. Personally I think it is just an excuse to change their American distribution chain."

"You are probably correct. From what Monique has told me, Maison de Ville has been looking to break Hermes's hold on the silk scarf overseas, even though their product is not on the same level. Why, it is a product you would see at Target for example. You could certainly do better for your client I think. Monique could better advise you of course," he said as they pulled away from the curb and into the late afternoon traffic and Samantha found herself surprised at his knowledge, not only of the various houses and their products but at the quality of goods carried in stores in the United States. She herself had judged their scarves, while of good quality, not otherwise outstanding and certainly not what she was looking for.

"Greg, I don't know how I could have managed any of this without having met you or Monique. Or Alex for that matter. I really feel like a fish out of water. Rachel is a great person, but I feel like I am trying to trade on her reputation and I am not her. Of the two houses I have met with though, I wonder what Rachel ever saw in their merchandise. It certainly is not of a quality for one of our stores even though the price certainly is," she said, sounding somewhat rueful even to her own ears.

"No, you are not her, you are your own person with a different eye and a different set of requirements and standards and I suspect you will make better contacts. Or you will make different contacts. Or you will find something completely different that is new and original and will take the world by storm, I have no doubt."

"Thank you Greg, I certainly hope so. I really do like shopping. It just seems to be so difficult though when you are shopping for a large organization. More difficult than I thought it would be at any rate."

They had pulled into the large circular drive way and parked behind a white Citroen that had clearly seen better days. Greg made a small noise in his throat.

"I am guessing that is not Alex's car?" Samantha said with growing dread.

"No, it is not. It is Miss Josephine's."

"We've met."

Greg turned to look at her over the back of the seat and she quickly reiterated the events of the morning to him.

"Trust her to be so, déclassé," he said with a little mirth. "But if anyone is capable of dealing with her, it is Alex and it sounds like he is getting tired of 'being polite.' Although it is about time."

"Yes, he was not very polite when he tossed her out that is for sure. So, what do we do? Clearly, I think my presence should not be shoved in her face."

"No, I quite agree with that. Come with me." With that they got out of the car and rather than walking in the front door, they walked around to the side of the house and in the door that lead directly to the kitchen. "Why don't you take a seat Samantha and I will go and let Monique know you are here."

Greg left the kitchen carrying a tray with a glass of wine on it and Samantha smirked at the glass he had left her on the table. Walking over and picking it up, she silently saluted his thoughtfulness as she took a sip from it. She strolled around the kitchen, impressed with the array of utensils and pans. It was bigger than her apartment and half the size of Alex's, and she figured she could cook a Thanksgiving dinner for her entire family in it and still have room for another three or four families worth of food and seating. Giant windows looked over the deck of the pool, trees in the garden blowing lightly in the fall air. She was taken by the simple beauty of it all, wondering what she had done to even earn the right to stand here and enjoy the view, much less be able to walk out onto the deck. It was not something that happened to people like her. 

"Monique would like you to join her in the library," Greg said, coming back into the kitchen.

"Thank you Greg. Is Josie still here?"

"Learning bad habits from Alex are you?" he asked with a smile, pouring himself a glass of wine and topping off Samantha's glass. "She absolutely hates that name. Good for you," he said smiling. "She was storming out as I came back down the stairs."

"Alex is full of bad habits it would seem. More than a couple I would love to learn," Samantha was smiling. 

"Oh, I am sure he is. Here, take this into Monique. I expect she is going to want more after her daughter's visit." Samantha took the bottle Greg passed her and left for the library.

The foyer was quiet, the only light coming from the setting sun, bathing the white marble in a pink hue. Monique was sitting in a chair in the library reading, her empty wine glass by her side on the table between the chairs.

"More wine, Monique," Samantha asked as she got closer.

"Yes please, and aren't you thoughtful, although I suspect that Greg handed you the bottle on your way out of the kitchen, which makes him twice thoughtful," she said, somewhat more flighty than Samantha remembered her being the night before. "Please tell me that Josephine did not disturb your morning over much?" She seemed concerned as she asked the question.

"Ask Alex. He is the one that had to answer the door."

"Yes, he told me all about it when he called this morning. You are both saints in my book," she said reaching over and patting Samantha gently on the arm. "Now, tell me all about the meeting you had at de Ville. Were they as horrible towards you as they are to most Americans they don't know?"

"Worse I think. Between my age, the fact that I am not Rachel and the fact that I really was not overly impressed with what they were showing me, they just did not feel I was someone they wanted to do business with. I also noticed one of the buyers from our competitor coming out of the shop before my meeting with them, but I did not bother to mention that to them. No sense infuriating them further."

"Right you were, dear. They are not known for their good humor. Now, if you have time tomorrow, I think we should go and see Madam Villeneuve. She is a wonderful lady and I have not talked with her in quite some time. Yes. That would be perfect. I will pick you up at 10. Are you staying with Alexander?"

Samantha could not help the blush that coloured her cheeks as she answered. "Yes, I am."

"Good, that will make things easier. Now, I expect that we will have to fend for ourselves at lunch. Then, perhaps we should go by the office and I will introduce you to a couple of people that might be able to assist you better, Amanda and Michelle. You will love them. Well, Amanda maybe not so much. You see, she has been trying to get our darling Alexander into her bed for years now and he just won't have anything to do with her. It reconfirms my high opinion of him you know, but she is a wonderful girl otherwise. Michelle, well, Michelle is Michelle and a wonderful girl and I expect the two of you will get along famously."

Samantha could not help giggling at Monique's antics as they discussed the day to come and what sorts of things Rachael had expected her to find. Monique listened both to the litany of places she was supposed to visit as well as the items she was supposed to find and then proposed her own list of locations to look at, most in different areas of town that were "off the beaten track" as she said and more unusual than the routine things that Samantha was supposed to be looking for without being so avant-garde that they would never sell anywhere but specialty boutiques.

"Although, you know, if you keep your eyes open and take a few samples back with you, you could entice some of those boutiques to front your next expedition," Monique said, thinking out loud.

"And just where am I supposed to get the francs to front the items now?" Samantha asked somewhat sarcastically, her old self starting to show through as she became more comfortable with Monique.

"What items are we fronting this week?" Alex asked from behind them. "My fence in London is already overworked you know."

"Alexander, you are a bad man. Don't you know this is a private conversation?" Monique asked in a sudden pique.

"It is? Well then why is the door open?" He reached across the table and stole a sip of Samantha's wine while coming around the chair in the opposite direction to give her a kiss.

"Of course it is. How can I offer with you here, knowing you are going to counter?" Monique asked as Alex gave her a friendly kiss as well.

"Who says I am going to counter anything. I just spent a couple of thousand francs getting you new parts for your machine, Monique. I'm broke."

Samantha jerked in her chair but Monique just laughed. "A likely story," Monique continued. "If you are broke, then you will quickly be repaid for the parts, with a large percentage upcharge added to the cost if I know you, and then you will take the money directly to the bank, where you will invest it in some lucrative stock venture that will return you a thousand fold the cost of the parts you purchased today, and on my credit line, no doubt."

"Never could fool you, could I Monique," Alex said, pulling up a chair. "But in this case, I bought them on my own credit line and I have already given Greg the bill and he has already written me the cheque for it, so we are all done on that account."

"But what about labour?"

"Monique, I am sure we can work something out."

"I am sure we can Alexander. Now, as I was about to say, Samantha, there are plenty of opportunities and in many cases the vendors would be more than happy to give you samples on spec, but in those rare cases where they won't I am sure we can find someway to finance them. I am not without means you know."

"Monique, I couldn't...," Samantha began.

"Tut, tut, we will not discuss what you can and cannot until such a time as we need to decide what we need to do. Alexander, dear, you are coming with us tomorrow, correct?"

"I don't know, Monique, where are we going and who is we?" Alex asked looking at the two ladies. He knew Monique was cooking something up, but without a lot of the details, he did not know whether or not to head her off at the pass or just let her continue on her merry way. Such was the nature of her plans as he had learned in days past.

"Good, then it is all settled. Alexander, Greg and I will pick you and Samantha up at ten o'clock sharp tomorrow morning at your apartment and we will go from there."

"Yes ma'am," Alex and Samantha said in unison, before laughing at their own antics.

Greg entered the library soon after, announcing that dinner was ready and the four of them retired to the dining room and soon afterwards, Samantha and Alex had returned to the apartment, overlooking the little Italian bistro and thereafter they were soon both fast asleep.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 09



It was the light pitter-pat of rain on the window that woke Alex from his dream. Never one to use an alarm unless he had to, he glanced first at his sleeping companion, then glanced at the bedside clock. Chuckling lightly to himself, he slipped out of bed, disarmed the alarm and walked into the bathroom. He pondered the previous couple of days while relieving himself. Samantha was a wonderful woman and it was a remarkable stroke of luck that she and Monique got on as well with each other as they did. He yawned slightly, wondering if they were going to get another wake up call this morning then quickly put the thought out of his mind in case that was all it took to bring Josephine down on them. He would rather make love with Samantha than go another two rounds with Josephine. If he was honest with himself, he would rather have a root canal without anesthetic than deal with Josephine at her most pleasant and he was unlikely to ever get that lucky again.

Sliding back into the warm nest beside Samantha, he was amazed at how things had turned out. Samantha was an attractive woman. True it was early in their relationship but he wanted to get to know her much more. She was not a fragile flower despite her initial missteps, which were understandable. She was in a new field, in a strange, foreign city and expected to make it work without any real training. That thought made him angry. Clearly someone saw potential in Samantha or they would not have hired her, but he was beginning to wonder if Rachel was supposed to be mentoring Samantha or if she expected her to pick it up as she went along. Alex was all for "deep end" immersion but only if the person had the background. He knew that Samantha was not ready, capable, but not ready. He looked down at her face, tranquil in sleep, her cheek was soft and unblemished and he gently drew his finger across it and along her jaw. He slowed his breathing and willed himself to calm down and felt the anger slowly leach out of his body. He had loved a number of women, but he had never felt a connection with any of them to the same degree that he felt with Samantha or so fast. He was not going to rush things however. He had done that with Josephine and he missed the early signs of her instability, signs that, in hindsight, Monique had warned him about and he had ignored. While not exactly gun-shy, he had stepped back from any relationship and had lived in solitude for the bulk of the summer dodging Josephine and just about every other woman who had crossed or might have crossed his path as much as he could. In fact, he had spent several weeks at a time in London and Edinburgh, rather than have to come up with excuses for Monique. He knew she understood, but he still did not like having to do it and someday he would explain it to her if she wanted to hear it.

"You look so serious," Samantha said, reaching out to take his hand, pulling it to her lips and kissing it gently.

"Good morning. Just wool gathering. Thinking about the evils of society and the good of single people," he said, dissembling. "How did you sleep?"

"Wonderfully. Better than in my own bed. It is going to be hard to go back to it," she said, still kissing his hand.

"Well, you are welcome to stay as long as you want, but right now, you have to get dressed. Monique will be here shortly."

"What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty."

"Plenty of time then. Don't go away," she said, kissing his hand before sliding out of bed and walking to the bathroom.

He snuggled down into the blankets and closed he eyes, listening to the rain and the other sounds of the building, letting his mind wander and float without direction. He must have fallen asleep or at least drifted into another dimension because he did not hear Samantha come back into the room. He did feel her kiss his ear, her tongue gently rimming the cartilage of his outer ear and nibbling the lobe, making things low down in his body swell and harden. She ran her hands along his side, raising goose bumps and making him swell faster, drawing a moan from him as she kissed his neck and slid her hand along his thigh, her nails gently raising more and more goose bumps along with desire deep inside him.

Samantha bent over him, rolling him onto his back and kissing her way along his chest while her hand encircled his swollen hardness, gently squeezing and stroking it while flicking his nipple with her tongue. He ran his hand over her back and across her side and clumsily tried to touch her breast. She smiled at him, pushed his hand away and kissed her way to his belly and climbed into bed before taking him into her mouth, causing him to gasp as she licked and sucked him gently and then more forcefully, rolling his balls between her fingers, gently squeezing them in accent to her slow sucking.

She seemed in no hurry, more interested in keeping him hard and teasing him than bringing him to climax. She watched him, seeing the lust in his eyes and knowing she had him under her spell. She slowly let her fingers tease her soft folds, running first one then two fingers through her wet self, teasing her clit which got harder under her fingers as his cock got harder in her mouth, which made her more wet and her clit seemed to swell even more.

She let the cycle build a little more until she was so close that she was afraid of losing it before he was inside her. She took one long last hard pull on him, sliding her mouth off of him and slid down on top of him, settling herself across his hips and looking down at him. She ran one hand across his chest while she continued to play with herself and moved slowly up and down, squeezing his stiffness inside her. She was in heaven, feeling full and flushed and grounded in her pleasure meshing with his. He reached out for her, stroking her breasts and flicking her nipples with his thumbs and thrusting his hips into her as she pushed down onto him, faster and with less control as her finger tripped her orgasm, muscles rhythmically squeezing him and drawing him into her as she rocked on top of him. He thrust into her, unloading himself, moaning and calling her name, holding her hips as they thrust together before she was unable to hold herself up, collapsing onto him, his arms circling her and stroking her back. 

"Mmmm, that was wonderful," he whispered to her, kissing her gently on the cheek and jaw before she raised herself enough that he could kiss her on the mouth. They spent several moments locked in their embrace before Samantha rolled off of Alex and looked at him closely.

"I have to fly back to New York on Saturday and Rachel will be here early Friday so we can go over the various things we have decided on, then she will come and close the actual deals. Damn it, Alex, I don't think I will ever get it right," her voice full of emotion, frustration and sorrow.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, playfully flicking an exposed nipple, "I think you got it right."

"Beast," she said hammering his naked shoulder before burying her head against it. He could feel her tears on his skin.

"Somehow that just does not seem fair if you ask me, but I am not as knowledgeable about these things," Alex said stroking her back and recalling his earlier train of thought. Hearing Samantha essentially confirming is assessment of Rachel set his thoughts in motion, but in the background. Right now, he needed to focus on Samantha. "That still gives us two more days and three more nights together, and then we will see where we go from there, OK?"

"OK," she agreed, a little weepy. "But I have to get a shower and so do you. Monique will be here in an hour and I do not think she is the type of woman that likes to be kept waiting."

"You are right about that," he said getting out of bed behind her and following her into the bathroom. "Of course, given the short amount of time we have, I suggest we share the shower," he said, turning on the water as she hit him with a towel.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 10



"Alex, darling, where have you been hiding yourself?" Amanda gushed, flinging herself into his arms and trying to kiss him. 

Alex turned his head, avoiding her lips and worked to disentangling himself from her incoming hug as much as he could. She smelled of cigarette smoke and bad perfume, which he deplored. It always made him wonder how bad her sense of smell had become. He disliked her on several levels. He did not smoke and could not stand to be around those who did for extended periods of time. Amanda, further, had made no secret of her desire for him and her open willingness to do anything for him. She was so thin as to make Kat Moss look healthy and Samantha positively curvy by comparison and he was not a fan of that look. She had wanted to be a model but lacked the general look that the current crop all seemed to share. Her eyes were small, almost beady, her cheek bones just a little too sharp and overall he did not find her photogenic. An opinion shared by a number of photographers he had learned both in alcohol fueled rants from Amanda as well as from talking to the photographers themselves. Finally, it was her personality that just turned him off. Whether it was the artificial openness of her nature or an innate desire to make sure he still had his wallet after every meeting with her, it was enough to just make her unattractive and not one of his favorite people.

Michelle, on the other hand was a joy to hug and she, unlike her coworker, did not smoke and was as revolted by it as he was. When they had first met, they had enjoyed several evenings together, walked along the Seine and generally did all the things that lovers did in Paris, except make love. They had been climbing, cycling, riding, seen plays and tried a number of both good and bad restaurants as their mutual schedules allowed but there was no real chemistry between them. Good friends were all they would ever be and both of them were quite comfortable with that arrangement. Michelle was tall, standing almost six feet in the low heels which she favored. Most of her length was in her body rather than in her legs which made it difficult to find blouses that were long enough for her. Fortunately she was a bit of a health nut and her abdomen was flat and sexy; a navel ring or dangle added to the overall allure she projected when she was not running errands and scheduling meetings for Amanda or Monique.

Monique had mentioned several times in his hearing that Michelle would make the perfect buyer for her London office, but Michelle did not want to go back to England for reasons that she would not go into, so she worked in Paris and did the things that were expected of her and had fun when she could get out of the office. Alex, for his part kept an eye on her for any signs of boredom. Not because Monique asked him to, but because Monique could not afford to lose her and he would make sure that she got what she needed. So far she was happy with her job.

It is difficult to be ugly in Paris. That was the first thought Samantha had when she met Amanda. Her second thought was that she wanted to take lessons from Michelle. Where she was sure Amanda had to work to be as she was, she was equally sure that Michelle's look was as effortless as it was elegant. Both women wore grey pleated skirts. Amanda had chosen a bilious red silk blouse to go with it and white stockings. She knew they were stockings because when Amanda sat down, her already short skirt receded just that much more up her thighs to show the top of them and the clips of the black garters that held them up. Michelle, in contrast had a vibrant multihued blouse on that highlighted her eyes and a collar that framed her face and worked with her braided black hair. Her stockings were nude and her black pumps were stylish and looked comfortable as well.

"Where can I get a pair of those shoes?" she asked as people were taking their seats. Both Alex and Monique looked at her and then at Michelle's feet.

"They're great aren't they?" Michelle said her British accent strong as she showed off her shoes. Knightsbridge, London. There is a little cobbler there. He makes a couple of dozen pairs a month. Craft stuff, but really comfortable and really well made."

"I really want a pair of those. Maybe a couple of pairs."

"Remind me before you leave and I will get you his address," Michelle said as Amanda took the head of the table where there were a bunch of samples piled up.

"Monique, you said you wanted to see some fabrics? Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"I really like this blouse," Samantha said, again indicating Michelle's clothes. It is just so different, and please don't tell me you got it in London," she said, looking imploringly at Michelle.

Alex noticed the evil look Amanda shot at Samantha and wondered what new dynamic had developed between her and Michelle since the last time he had visited Monique's Paris studio.

"That, my dear," said Monique, "is one of mine, if I am not mistaken?"

Michelle nodded her head. "It is fabulous. One of a kind too!"

Now Alex knew what was going on. Monique had given one of her originals to Michelle and he knew that Amanda had been angling to get one, only to continually be shut out, and for Michelle to wear it when Monique was around was as big a slap in the face to Amanda as it was a compliment to Monique. Alex made a note to himself to mention it to Monique in case she had missed it. Maybe it was time to open that shop in Nice that she had been talking about and send Amanda there to manage it, although Michelle would have been the better choice.

"It is gorgeous!" Samantha gushed. "How do I convince you to make a couple more? Maybe in this pattern?" As she talked, Samantha had been sliding some of the silk samples around and pulled out a swatch that was not as vibrant in its colouring as Michelle was wearing, but would probably have the same affect. "Do you have any Rayon samples?" she asked, looking between Amanda and Monique.

Amanda paled, looking as if she had been slapped. Monique was not sure what question was being asked. Alex, watching the three of them started laughing.

"What? Did I say something funny?" Samantha asked.

"Funny? No, and yes. Monique, it is a wonderful idea actually. As much as you dislike Martha Stewart, you have some wonderful outfits that would be perfect office wear in the United States, especially for the harder to fit, tall women. I know you have been resisting going in this direction for years. What if you were to sell the line under a house brand? It would give you a chance to get some of those designers that you have been coddling some real experience in a cut throat market and sell the silks under the Channel line?"

"Alexander, why are you not working for me?" Monique asked.

"Monique, I do work for you. Just not in the way you want me too," Alex said, walking up to the samples.

"What do you think Amanda? What would look good with that pattern?" Alex asked her, trying to draw her into the conversation. Just because he did not like her did not mean he did not appreciate her eye. She had a lousy fashion sense, no one would ever argue that, but she was a shrewd judge of what would look good on a pattern and what might actually sell, which was as important as what looked good.

She rifled through the pile for a moment, pulling out several selections before settling on two that just made Alex shake his head. He would never have worn the purple but Samantha seemed to love it.

"Yes, that is perfect. With a grey or blue? It is elegant. It would be perfect for day into night, such as office to a dinner party. The C level types will love it. Maybe wear it with pearls or a long gold chain to accessorize it."

Alex noticed that Amanda's colour had returned and that she seemed to be getting into the discussion. Monique caught his attention and smiled at him gently and nodded. He nodded back and smiled too before letting himself out of the conference room. If he was any judge, the meeting would go on for hours.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 11



"So this is where you have been keeping yourself," Samantha said, pushing Monique ahead of her as they came up to the table where the remains of cheese, bread and wine were strewn about except for a small puddle in the bottom of each man's glass. Greg looked up from his crossword puzzle and Alex barely crooked an eyebrow as he reached for his empty glass, making a slight moue and flagging down the waiter for more wine and two more glasses.

"Well, I did not seem to be able to add more to the discussion and since the four of you had it under control, I suggested to Greg that we find ourselves a table and some wine and settle in to wait for you. Of course, that was two bottles and several wheels of cheese ago. Needless to say, we are in no condition to go anywhere."

Monique laughed. "Alexander, have you gotten my manservant drunk?"

"I am not drunk, ma'am. I am mellow. What is a four letter word for sex?"

"Fuck," Samantha said, causing Alex to look up at her quickly, no trace of inebriation in his motions.

"A four letter word for sex," she said, causing another round of laughter as the waiter brought the wine, glasses, bread and menus.

"And you have not had two bottles of wine," Monique said, astutely.

Greg just smiled and opened his menu.

"Did you come to any conclusions?" Alex asked Monique as he poured the wine.

"Oh, several. I think it is time to send Michelle to Nice to open that shop we have talked about, although I hate not having her here, she is such a darling. I should do that before Amanda pushes her out a window, don't you think? Oh, this is lovely, where is it from?"

"Would you believe Virginia?" Alex replied.

"Alexander, how did you find a Virginia wine in Paris?"

"Simple, I brokered the deal."

"What?" Monique said, looking up at the marquee before laughing.

"I seem to constantly be coming in on the end of a joke," Samantha said.

"I own a small share in this bistro," Alex said by way of explanation. "At one point I spent something like three days waiting for Monique and this was where I waited. The food was good but they were having financial problems so I offered to help out. Wound up with a partial share in the place and occasionally I broker deals for unusual things. The chairs over by the door, for example, are from Muskoka in Canadian cottage country. They are usually full in the morning. The residents love sitting there and reading their morning paper with their coffee. In fact, I have to get a bunch more. Remy is opening a porch, he calls it, out back and wants to have those exclusively. Very unFrench sometimes, our Remy, but then, sometimes it is being different that works. Tonight, the wine is from Virginia, USA. Santé."

They studied the menu for a few moments before being interrupted by a pencil thin man in a white apron over his white clothes.

"Mon amis, welcome, welcome," Remy said, kissing first Monique and then Samantha before shaking Greg and Alex's hands. "What a beautiful day. I see we have a guest tonight. Je m'appel Remy. It is pleasure to meet you."

"Remy, I would like you to meet Samantha, late of the City of New York, des Etats Unis."

"Oui? C'est vrai! Bonjour. For you a special dish tonight!" Remy was positively effusive.

"Only for her, mon ami?" Alex asked. "I think I have been insulted."

"Alex, would I insult you? For the table then, I will put my hand to something fantastique!"

"Fantasique would be a great change from what you normally serve. How will you manage it?"

"Tonight I am inspired by a great beauty! Two great beauties! You have enough wine? Bon, un moment mais ami and we will eat." With that he bustled back into the bistro and dinner talk fell to wine, cheese and the overall state of the French economy.

"Dinner was wonderful, merci," Samantha said as Alex opened the door to the apartment. She had started thinking of it as their apartment and she seemed to feel more at home here than she did in her place in New York. Maybe it was because it was so friendly or maybe it was because it was Alex's. She was not sure, but rather than study it too much, she just enjoyed it.

"Du rien, chérie," he said, flipping on soft lights so they could find their way around the room.

"I need to check email. Can I use one of your machines?" she asked and picked up a laptop in front of her when he nodded before turning to the kitchen.

"Would you like anything?"

"No, not right now thank you. I have had more good food and wine in the last few days than I think I have had in my entire life and I am really not used to it." She was only partially paying attention to him, as she scanned a note from her boss. "Damn," she muttered.

"Problems?" he asked coming around the couches to sit near her, the glass of scotch in his hand forgotten for the moment.

"Rachel. She will be arriving at Gare de Lyon by TGV at 1730 tomorrow night. I am to find a restaurant for dinner and we are going to discuss my finds over the last few days and then the following day we are going to make arrangements and close the deals. Damn, I only have one deal, and that is still very tenuous and relies more on Monique's good will."

"Well, if that is all, then it should not be too hard to close the deal, but I do not think Monique will deal with Rachel, not after she has spent all this time working with you. Who are you seeing tomorrow?"

"A couple of places that Monique suggested. I think Michelle is going with me."

"Perfect, so you should have a more than enough of solid products to go back to New York with. Michelle is good. Don't get me wrong, Amanda is good too, or she would not have her job, but Michelle is good and subtle. Amanda is Amanda. Subtle is not in her vocabulary, unless she is standing next to Josephine, of course. What do you want for dinner?"

"Dinner? Oh tomorrow night. I don't know. Something simple I think, not too fancy. I really don't know, I have not worked with her much let alone gone out to dinner. What do you suggest?"

"I don't know. Where is she staying?"

"Marriot. One floor up from where I was registered."

"Then while you and Michelle are out scouring Paris for the finer things, I will make some calls and scour my little black book and see if I cannot find something appropriate, tasty and tasteful."

"Someday you are going to have to teach me how to do that."

"Do what? Research? It just is something I have always done, but I will teach you what I can. Now, my dear, would you like to come to bed, or shall I ravish you here on the couch?"

"I think the bed would be a much better option," Samantha said, the laptop now forgotten on the couch as she wrapped herself around Alex and kissed him soundly.



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 12-13



Chapter 12

At 45, Rachel Staunton was a force of nature. Stepping off the train from Nice, she looked like she had just stepped out of a salon, instead of getting off of a five and a half hour train ride from the south of France. Her hair, worn tight against her head, was perfect, not a strand out of place, showing off her round face. Her makeup was impeccable, lipstick and cheekbones by the book. You had to be intimate with her to see the depth of powder and concealer that covered the dark circles under her eyes and fine wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and mouth and Rachel Staunton would never let someone get that close to her. 

Alex sat casually on the bench watching her direct a porter who was gathering up a couple of bags and putting them on a cart. The grand lady herself only seemed to carry a purse, in her hand rather than slung over her shoulder, so as not to wrinkle the cream silk blouse she was wearing. Alex was certain that her bra was of the finest quality, even if it made her breasts seem less than natural in the way they did not move under her silk as she walked.

He immediately did not like her. There was something artificial about her that just put his hackles up. Monique would have said it was his bullshit meter working overtime and she was probably right. Someone who took that much care with their appearance was hiding something, some imperfection, some character flaw that needed fine clothes and expensive makeup to cover. Her hair was blonde, but he suspected that was one of the few natural things about her. The subtle shadings could not be achieved by the hands of anyone but a true artist and even then, he doubted that she would have allowed it. No, her hair was her one true possession which made Alex wonder why she wore it so severely restricted. Samantha had just welcomed her boss back to Paris and they were talking, not as friends but business colleagues, their postures formal and Samantha was deferring as needed. It was almost funny to watch. Alex did his best not to laugh or draw attention to himself. Samantha had wanted him to come with her, but had suggested it was best not to introduce him to her boss at the station.

They had taken an hour, earlier in the day, to move most of Samantha's things back to the Marriot. It was window dressing to make things look appropriate and now, looking at the two of them, he agreed that it had been a good decision. Rachel and Monique would clash like fire and water he was sure and he was also sure that Monique would come out on top. Rachel struck him as someone who always had to be in charge and he knew Monique well enough to know that she always was in charge. He had watched Monique fence with some of the great names in fashion and in the end they always did what she wanted. He had no doubt that this would be the case again. And with Monique championing Samantha, he expected that the working relationship with Rachel would either fall apart completely or be a much stronger one. That would depend solely on Rachel's ego, something Alex had no doubt would need a porter to carry around if it had been a physical thing.

He watched the two of them exit the platform and head into the main station. It was his cue to leave as well. Dinner was at 7:30 and he still had to get back to his apartment and change in to something more appropriate. Having seen the lady, he now knew the role he had to play. She would only accept another professional and Alex was sure he could play the part of a professional. He only wondered if he had a clean shirt as he descended into the Metro for the short ride home.

Chapter 13

"Alexander, you old fraud," Monique said as he bent down to kiss her cheek once she was settled into her chair. Greg was already moving around to the driver's side as Alex steered Monique to the front of the restaurant where Samantha and Rachel had so recently entered. Alex had watched them go in from a discrete distance while watching for Monique's car. They had arranged it so that Samantha would get seated and comfortable before Monique made her entrance. The restaurant was Monique's choice, one that she frequented and knew her well. Nothing like having home field advantage.

"Good evening to you Monique. Now what did I do?" Alex asked as they waited for Greg to return from parking the car.

"You, in a suit darling. I did not even know you owned one."

"I don't. I had to borrow this one from Martin."

"Alexander, do not lie to an old lady. There is no way you could squeeze your height into a suit Martin might own, and there is no way it would not gape at the waist, even if you did. It looks good on you by the way. Remind me the next time Karl is in town and we will get him to fit you for a couple of new ones."

"Yes Monique. I buy one suit a year and there is no way I could afford to look at a Lagerfeld, much less actually have the man fit me for one, but I thank you for the introduction anyway."

"Oh pooh. You can afford several solely on the crumbs you let me pay you," she said.

Alex held his tongue, Greg's arrival providing him the opportunity to change the topic before Monique got herself wound up. As much as he would like to own a Lagerfeld, he hated wearing suits and would never get the value out of it.

"Shall we go into dinner then?" Alex asked as Greg opened the door for them.

"Madame DuMaurie, bon soir! Monsieur Gilcrest how are you sir? And Alex, my friend, you have been away? I have not seen you in forever.

"Good evening Guy," Monique said, as she accepted his kisses before the maitre d' hugged Greg as an old friend. Alex was quickly looking around the room, finding Samantha with his eyes as she faced out from the wall, Rachel had turned slightly in her chair looking at the commotion, as were most of the patrons in the restaurant.

"I have a table ready for you. Right this way. The Sommelier?" he asked as Alex maneuvered Monique's chair around the patrons in the crowded restaurant, stopping now and then as Monique saw people she knew and had to say hello. In some ways, it was like a procession and Monique was making the most of it. Alex was trying hard to keep a straight face, saying his hellos to the people that he knew at each stop they made. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Samantha, also trying hard not to smile, her water glass held in front of her, shielding her face. He thought it slightly odd that there were no wine glasses on the table. 

As they approached their table, Monique, with casual ease, swung her head to look where Samantha was sitting, and exclaimed, "Samantha, darling, there you are! I thought we were having dinner this evening." Alex was already pushing her that way, people politely moving their chairs out of the way so that she could get closer to the table. Samantha, for her part had stood up and slid out between the tables to stand a little ahead of Rachel's chair as Alex brought Monique's chair to a halt.

"Bon soir, Monique. Ca va?" Samantha said.

"Bien, chérie! Tres bien. You have been practicing, oui?" Monique said with a grin.

"Oui, c'est vrai, madam. Alex has been helping in his spare time," she said with a grin, her eyes still on Monique.

"But I am interrupting..." Monique began.

"Oh, not at all Mrs. DuMaurie," Rachel interjected, coming to her feet.

"I am sorry. Monique, this is my boss, Ms. Rachel Staunton. Rachel, this is Monique DuMaurie."

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Staunton," Monique said with all propriety.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you Mrs. DuMaurie, I have been a fan of your designs for years, ma'am."

"Please, call me Monique," she said, noticing that their appetizer's had not arrived. "Would you join us? I wanted to hear all about Samantha's excursions this afternoon," Monique said, taking Rachel's hand as Greg slipped behind her chair and steered her towards the table Andre had prepared for them, waiters quickly laying in more places while Alex waited for Samantha to pick up their purses.

"She is a master, isn't she," Samantha whispered to Alex as they walked slowly to their table, the noise of the place masking their conversation.

"Oui, she is," Alex said.

"And you are not so bad yourself," she said squeezing his hand.

"Now, Rachel, you sit on my left, and Samantha, you are on my right. Alexander you will sit next to Samantha of course, and Greg, you will please sit next to Rachel. This won't do at all will it. Alexander, what was Michelle doing this evening?" Monique said as if she was organizing a dinner party in her own dining room.

"You're asking me? I was skipping stones in the Seine this afternoon."

"Well?" Monique said, looking at him.

"Manipulative bitch," Alex said with a smile, catching Rachel's quick gasp. He took out his cell phone and started walking back to the front doors of the restaurant to place his call. Monique had a very strict policy about cell phones at the dinner table.

Champaign had been poured and the conversation was fully joined by the time Alex got back to the table.

"We are in luck. Michelle was just about to go out for the evening. She was going to grab a cab and will join us shortly," Alex said, sliding into his chair at the table.

"Wonderful, now as I was telling Rachel, Samantha has found some wonderful things today and I expect that Michelle has the list in her head of the people we need to talk to, but I wanted to know what you thought of the idea of some automated inventory management?"

Alex paused, glass to his lips to look at Monique. There was something going on and he had missed the initial cue. Samantha seemed tense beside him, but Rachel had an odd look on her face. He could not decide if it was one of anger at being usurped or frustration at not getting her own way.

"What sort of inventory are we automating Monique? You want RFID chips on your employees? Although, come to think of it, if we implant a GPS RFID chip in Josie's ass, we would have a much better time of it." He took a sip while Greg did his best not to laugh out loud and Samantha was vibrating with mirth.

"Alexander that is not nice," Monique said, partially sternly. "I am talking about automating my inventory."

"Monique you would put Amanda out of a job if you did that." Which was not all that bad of an idea, but Monique needed Amanda's unique talents, as much as she would argue against it. "Besides, you are already automated, just not in the normal sense of a full scale manufacturing operation. Leave those headaches to Karl and do what you do best, creating fabulous one-of-a-kind pieces."

"You are sweet, Alexander," she said, smiling. "So that is solved then."

Rachel did not look pleased, but he did not pursue it further. Monique would likely tell him what that was all about tomorrow. The talk turned to a general discussion of fall fashions in Milan and Nice and once Michelle joined them a few minutes later, the four ladies started talking earnestly about what would and would not sell in the ready-to-wear world of large chain stores versus the slick one-off or boutique styles that the designers really tried to put out on display. For their part, Alex and Greg kept glasses filled, food circulating and answered the occasional question of this or that waiter and the night wore on.

"Ladies, as thrilling as this night has been," Alex said with a slight yawn, "I have an early appointment and need to seek my bed. And I think we should let Guy have his restaurant back so he can go home to his wife before she forgets what he looks like." It was well past midnight and while there were still one or two patrons in the place, it was clearly well past time to go, even though Guy was sitting at the bar having a drink.

"Well, then shall we continue this discussion tomorrow at my office?" Monique asked. "Say 10:30? That way everyone can get some sleep and start their morning off right?" With nods all around, the table stood up and shook hands or kissed as appropriate. Michelle whispered, "Well played," into Alex's ear as she kissed him on the cheek. Greg took up position behind Monique and with Alex in front, a small procession lead the way out to the street.

"We will take Michelle to her apartment," Monique said as Greg went to get the car. Are you able to get back to your hotel?" she asked of Rachel.

"I believe so. Samantha and I took a cab here, but it is a short walk." Alex tipped his head to the side so as not to be seen laughing. While Samantha was wearing shoes that could have made the trip, Rachel had selected a pair of three inch heels with straps that must have been uncomfortable walking from the table to the street, there was no way she would make the walk from Les Halles back to the Champs Elysées.

"Oh, nonsense," Monique said. "We can take you as well. Alexander, you and Samantha will be alright, yes?" And in one motion she had solved that problem.

"Oui, Monique. Nous aurons tout raison." Alex said.

"Bon. Au revoir, mes amis. Jusqu'à demain," she said as Alex kissed her and then let Samantha do the same while Michelle was getting in the front seat and Greg held the door for Rachel. "And Alexander, stay away tomorrow, all right?" she said in English, whispering in his ear.

"D'accord," he said in agreement, shaking Greg's hand, thanking them for dinner and wishing them a good morning before he and Samantha set off in the opposite direction.

They had gone several blocks, not really caring what direction they were going in before he spoke again.

"So what did I miss?" 

"Rachel started jabbing at me for not getting anything from Sylvia and a couple of her other favorites. She then tried to suggest that if Monique simply automated her inventory management process, she would be able to branch out on her own and reap the rewards. It seems that Rachel has been following her career and thinks that if Monique were just a little more aggressive in her business practices she would be much more successful, which is where you came in. I am guessing Rachel has been trying to get close to her for years and it bothers her that I am not only close to her, but someone Monique is willing to work directly with. Rachel does not like being cut out and from some of what she told me between the train and the hotel, she did not have a good time of it in Nice. Normal contacts that have been good in the past, at least from a price per unit perspective, started playing hard ball, raising prices, not being generally friendly, that sort of thing. One apparently threatened to throw her out of her salon after she told her that she was no longer interested in dealing with an isolationist American culture that seemed to think it could do whatever it wanted to."

Alex tried not to smile. Relations between the two nations were one of love and hate at the best of times, and these certainly were not the best of times. In all his years of living in Europe, he had learned to smile politely when people started talking about America and Americans. Most people could not tell the difference between Canadians and Americans, so he pretended to be British. Sometimes it was just easier. Still there were several reasons why Rachel could have been having problems; least of all was that she was representing an American company.

"I feel Monique's hand," Alex said as they came up to a taxi stand. At least he would not put it past her to have mucked around in Rachel's pool. Samantha had mentioned discussing it with Monique. Alex hailed a cab and opened the door for Samantha before getting in and giving the driver his address. He settled back into his seat for the short ride. "She is up to something, but I honestly don't know what it is. She has wanted to get out of this business for a while now and just relax. Her MS is progressing to the point that her bad days outnumber her good days and she is in pain a lot. I think that blouse Michelle was wearing is the first new things she has designed in ages and tonight is the most enervated I have seen her in a while. I suspect some of this has to do with Josephine, but I don't know what she is cooking up." He was more certain than ever that Monique was up to something.

"Well, I am sure we will find out soon enough," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "I like the suit by the way. I will have to find more excuses for you to wear one." 

"Well, I have to admit that you look very sexy yourself. But then, I think you look sexy in jeans and a t-shirt," he said before kissing her gently. She was wearing a simple black sheath of crepe wool that came down to her mid-thigh. She had forgone stockings this evening, so he found himself touching bare skin when he rested his hand on her leg. The simple touch caused her to moan slightly and for him to swell just as the taxi slowed to a stop.

"Here we are," Alex said softly as she slid out and he paid the fare. They stood on the corner, arms around each other, kissing for several minutes as the sound of the departing taxi faded into the night air, their bodies striving to get closer with each passing minute, their tongues flicking back and forth, with lips making the occasional foray to neck, jaw, and ear. The lights from Martin's restaurant were dark, and they stood bathed only in shadows from the weak streetlights.

"Take me, please, Alex, take me," she whispered, her hands sliding inside his jacket to touch his body through the thin material of his shirt. Her fingers undoing buttons under the cover of his tie as she sought to touch his naked skin.

He started to move her towards the outside door but she pushed him deeper into the shadows, her hands striving to undo the clasp of his pants while she encouraged his hand to slide up under her dress. He took her lead, his hand tracing the muscle up the inside of her leg to find her pussy bald and naked and wet and as he ran a finger over her clit, he found she was ready, the breath whooshing out of her as a small orgasm passed through her, causing her to redouble her efforts to get his pants undone and free his hard cock. Taking her cue, he turned her towards the wall, hiking the back of her dress up over her ass before rubbing his cock along the slit between her legs. She arched her back and his cock slid into her slick tunnel as her breath was expelled in a long low moan as she pushed back roughly against him. Quickly they were sliding back and forth on each other; her orgasm spurred on by her fingers rubbing her clit and spilling over just before he shoved himself deep into her and filled her with his sperm, causing more little tremors to shake her body. Samantha reluctantly pulled herself off him and spun around, crushing herself against him in a kiss.

"Oh, that was so good," she moaned, "but I need so much more. Upstairs!" It was a command he was not going to fight as he slipped the keys from his pants and opened the doors as fast as physics and greased locks would allow him.

Once in the apartment, she almost physically threw him onto the couch, capturing his loose cock in her mouth and trying to suck it to hardness in a single pull as he tried to divest himself of his tie and undo the top button on his dress shirt before he passed out from lack of oxygen and blood to his brain. Samantha started playing with his ass which had the desired effect of hardening his cock in her mouth. She continued to suck it, making sure it was hard and firm before she pulled herself along him and sank heavily down onto him.

"Oh, that is so good," she moaned as she pulled the dress over her head, tossing it on the floor beside them, content to rock back and forth on his erection deep inside of her, her nipples hard in the evening light reflected into the room, her hands alternating between squeezing her nipples and breasts and running over his chest. Alex was slowly teasing her hips and breasts when she turned her attention to his chest. Her rocking seemed to be increasing in its pace as her breathing became more ragged and another orgasm passed through her body, bowing her spine and pushing her small breasts into his hands as he pulled on the thick nipples, making her moan harder and shake more.




A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 12-13



"Alex, I need you so much," she moaned, coming off him in a wet squelch and lying back on the couch, her legs splayed as she fingered her clit. "Fuck me, please, hard and deep."

Alex struggled to get out of his clothes before falling on her, kissing her and sliding back into her, bottoming out with a soul joining moan before he started pistoning his cock in and out of her, hard and fast, her fingers pulling one orgasm after another out of her. The constant clenching and releasing of her vaginal muscles playing along the length of his cock felt exquisite and it did not take much to have him slamming and spurting into her as she wrapped her legs around him and encouraged him more and harder and deeper as she wailed her final release and went limp beneath him.

"Alex, that was, without a doubt, one of the best evenings I have had in my life and I do not think I ever want it to end," she said between kisses a few minutes later. "But I have to get up in the morning. Take me to bed, please?"

Alex helped her get up, weak-kneed as they both were and together they stumbled into the bedroom. Samantha was asleep almost as soon as she curled against him and Alex was soon asleep himself. 



A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 14-15



Chapter 14

Alex heard the phone first and tried to ignore it. After a moment he realized it was not his phone, which means that it was Samantha's. Despite an overwhelming desire to pretend that he did not hear it, he suspected that Samantha might not want to ignore it.

"Whose?" She asked sleepily.

"Yours," he said pulling himself up and looking for the clock. "No one I know would call me at six-thirty in the morning, especially if they want me to do anything for them."

By the time Samantha had pulled herself out of bed, the phone had stopped ringing and there was relative quiet in the apartment. Alex thought he heard it chirp but did not know if that was before or after Samantha found it.

"No surprise who it was," she said sourly as she keyed in the passcode for the voicemail and tried to crawl back under the covers.

Alex could not hear the message clearly but there was no question that Rachel was less than happy this morning. He thought, ruefully, that if she had gotten another couple of hours of sleep and got up like normal people, she would have been in a much better mood.

"What does she want?" Alex asked after he heard the phone click closed, his own eyes already closed, striving for sleep he knew would not come now despite being exhausted.

"The bitch," Samantha said, tears in her voice. Alex rolled over to see her clutching the phone in her hands, her cheeks wet. "She wants to know why I am not answering my door that she has been pounding on for the last 10 minutes and expects me to meet her in the lobby by seven without fail so that we can discuss my complete failure to achieve the goals she set for me."

"Sounds like a winner," Alex said gently prying the phone from her hands and putting his arms around her, pulling her towards him. "Call her back, tell her you are at the Café Du Lac and it would make more sense for her to join you there then it would for you to come back to the hotel."

"Where is the Café Du Lac?" she asked, sniffling slightly.

"About three blocks from here. In either case, it will take her a half-hour to get there. If she doesn't go for it, then it will take you at least a half-hour to get back to the hotel."

"And why would I be there?"

"Because we have been having breakfast there every morning," he said with a smirk, "Even though we only had breakfast there once, well, twice actually, but I don't count wearing my breakfast as the same as eating it." She hit him with a pillow and then fell on him and kissed him.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes. What is the address of the place? You know I can never find it on my own." 

Alex wrote the address down on a piece of paper and slipped into the bathroom while she made her call. He was just finishing when she came in.

"No dice, she wants me there," she said dejectedly and somewhat tearfully.

"Well, jump in the shower and be quick. I can have us to the hotel in about 20 minutes and you can tell her you were not going to walk out on your breakfast. I will be right back."

"Where are you going?" she asked as he pulled his pants on and plucked a t-shirt from a drawer.

"To get you breakfast. If she thinks you have eaten already, you are not likely to get food, at least until your meeting with Monique at ten. I will make sure Michelle lays in a danish or two for you just in case. Now get into the shower and I will be back before you are done." 

Alex let himself out quickly and Samantha started her shower. In the ten minutes it took her to do a quick once over and dry off, he had returned with a pair of croissants and coffee, buttering them and feeding her as she combed her hair and got dressed. In less than twenty minutes, they were out the door and onto the Metro, heading in the direction of the Marriott.

"OK, smarty pants, how do I handle the 'failure' to meet her goals?" she asked as they jostled with the morning commuters.

"That will take a little more finesse," he said thinking for a moment. "I would approach it this way. You tell her the vendors were not offering you their best goods and you found better items that you feel are more likely to sell in the United States than what she was trying to get you to pick up. Run with the idea that the people you are talking to are smaller, lesser known vendors and that translates to a better price per unit. Their unknown nature will make the snobs snap them up because they will not be the same as what everyone else has. It comes down to simple marketing really. It might mean that someone has to rethink a campaign, but I think that is a small price to pay. If she really insists on the items, then you can go together and maybe she will have better luck, but I suspect she will encounter the same problems. In the first case you learn and in the second case she learns. Either way, it is all good. I would make sure you talk to Monique before you go to any of the people you visited earlier this week. I think Rachel is jealous, that is why she is pulling this little stunt."

"You don't know Rachel. She is not the type that learns lessons. She teaches them. Why would you think she is jealous?"

"She is in awe of Monique, that much was plain last night at dinner. Not only did Monique come to you last night, but you introduced her to Rachel by addressing her by her first name. Nothing wrong with that from Monique's view, but for someone as self-possessed as Rachel struck me as, it was probably the worst thing you could have done, because it meant you were Monique's friend. Your first visit here and you are already friends with one of the most sought after designers in the country and you are introducing her to the senior buyer like she was an old school friend. Not even the mother of a friend. I don't think that sat well at all."

Samantha stood staring at him, ignoring the crush of passengers that were getting on and off around her. "Sought after? I knew she was good, but that good?" 

"I wasn't kidding about Fendi. Or Karl," he said with a smirk.

"I still don't know who you mean."

"Lagerfeld, Karl Lagerfeld. Of Channel and his own line?" He watched as the light bulb went on and then a second one.

"You've met him?" she asked with awe in her voice.

"I have met him, yes, but I am not likely to pick up the phone and invite him to dinner. I honestly don't know him that well. Monique has parties from time to time at her estate. Or rather, she used to and since I was engaged to her daughter, well, I was part of the family and included in the introductions." 

"But no more," Samantha said.

"I am no longer engaged to Josephine, no, but I am probably more a part of the family than she is at the moment. This is your stop. I have my phone with me and I will be in the neighbourhood somewhere. Bon chance chérie," he said, kissing her quickly as she stepped off the train and joined the crowd heading for the exit.

Samantha stepped out of the station and slid to one side out of the crowd to catch her breath before stepping off towards the Marriot. There were a number of mainly working class Parisians on the street already, some making their way to cafes and others towards the office buildings and other places of business that supported the bustling City of Lights. The sun would not shine today and brighten the dark stone. It was dark and overcast and a fitful start at a sprinkling rain had already started as she and Alex walked from the apartment to the Metro. By the time she reached the doors of the hotel, the sprinkle had become a steady drizzle. She hoped Alex had remembered to bring an umbrella with him and smiled at the thought.

Rachel was waiting for her in the lobby. Dressed in a tailored suit with heels and stockings, she seemed wildly out of place next to Samantha who was wearing khaki pants, blouse and loafers. Alex had bought her the shoes. A present, he had called them, to help her gain a modicum of respect in the circles she was traveling, and when she was not looking he had also put in the blouse. She appreciated the shoes, they were comfortable and in her travels she noticed that she did seem to blend in with the rest of the people she dealt with. Even Monique seemed to tend towards the more casual style that Samantha was wearing rather than the grossly formal look that her boss had chosen.

"It certainly took you long enough," Rachel said, anger tingeing her voice this morning in contrast to dinner the night before.

"I had to finish my breakfast, and then make my way to the Metro, Rachel. It is a large city after all."

"Yes, I see that," she said sarcastically. "Come with me," she demanded as she turned and marched off to the elevator bank. Silently Samantha thanked Alex for his foresight in feeding her before they left although the croissant seemed to sit like a lead weight in her stomach.

"I set down some very specific instructions," Rachel said as they ascended, "and yet, based on what I heard at dinner last night, you have rejected out of hand, without any consultation with me, all of the simple jobs I have set for you. Instead you have been gallivanting around Pairs like a school girl on her first date. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Samantha was dumbfounded. She most certainly had not gallivanted anywhere. After a week in Paris, other than seeing the Eiffel Tower from a distance, she had spent hours in stuffy offices and moldy back rooms looking at samples and designs and trying to find items that would be salable in the United States. Yet here was this woman, over dressed at seven o'clock in the morning, dressing her down for rejecting what were second rate items, over priced and unlikely to sell in any store at any price. That Monique seemed to agree with her assessment only made her more upset. Still she tried to appeal to Rachel with logic.

"Rachel, I understand you are the senior buyer and far more knowledgeable than I am about this sort of thing, but the items you suggested were hacks. The people selling them were pushing second rate merchandise..."

"And in your infinite experience, you felt it better to strike out on your own? Well, we will go and apologize to Mrs. DuMaurier and then we will go and talk to the people I instructed you to visit and then we will fly back to the United States where you will clean out your desk and find yourself another job in another company. I don't know what they were thinking when they hired you..."

"If that is your attitude, then I guess we have nothing more to say," Samantha said as the doors opened on her floor and she stepped out. "I will meet you at Monique's office at ten o'clock as we planned and then you are more than welcome to spend the rest of the day crawling around musty salons. I am going to enjoy my last day in Paris. Good morning." And with that she walked down the hall towards her room, leaving her boss in a fine fury as the doors to the elevator closed and she finished the ride up to her floor.

Samantha never intended to go to her room and instead she slipped into the stairwell and started down the steps, pulling out her cell phone and calling Alex, relaying to him all that had happened. He told her to meet him outside the hotel and they would go and find a proper breakfast since her morning now seemed to be free.

"I am so mad I could spit," Samantha said after they had slipped into a booth at Remy's café. Alex had ordered them some breakfast and was gently stroking her hand, trying to calm her down. "I mean, she does not even understand the work I did..." Alex let her vent in this vein for a few more minutes until their breakfast arrived. Alex was passing her the cream when his own phone rang, his mouth curling up with a smile as he answered it.

"Oui, bonjour?" He said, cradling the phone against his ear as he spread raspberry preserves over his croissant. "Oui? Oui, ici. Oui, c'est vrai chérie. A dix heure, oui? Un moment," he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked sideways at Samantha. "What do you think about meeting Monique at nine-thirty?" he asked.

"That is fine with me. It isn't like I have anything else on my schedule this morning" she said, looking at him questioningly.

"Monique, nine-thirty is fine. All right, we will see you there." He closed his phone and put it back on his hip, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"Well?" Samantha asked, clearly intrigued.

"It would seem that your boss called Monique. Not a good idea at this hour of the morning I might add, to cancel this morning's meeting. Some story about having to make several sales calls today. So Monique trumped her and told her the meeting could easily be moved up, so it was. It is kind of tough to say no to Monique especially when she is rudely awoken. Rachel did not seem to think you would be there though."

"I am beginning to learn that she is tough to say no to. Not that I would ever hope to have any reason to," Samantha said, grinning slightly.

Alex's phone rang again and this time his French was so fast it was almost impossible for Samantha to follow his side of the conversation. Before it was over, he had taken out his laptop, flipped it open and was rapidly taking notes all the while continuing his conversation, his face sliding from one of amusement to seriousness as he typed. Sitting across from him, she could not see what he was doing, but she guessed, based on the speed his fingers were flying over the keyboard, he was documenting the entire conversation. He hung up the phone and pulled his map book out of his pocket, squinting at the monitor before flipping to the index and then back again to the screen. He made a couple of notes in his book before closing it and slipping it back in his pocket. He made a couple of more entries onto the laptop and then closed its cover.

"Are you up for a field trip?" he asked her looking up from putting the machine in his satchel.

"Sure. Where are we going?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he said smiling, "but I have to go and do a quick job before we meet Monique and then I can do the rest of it later next week when I get back from London. But if I go now and take some pictures, I can work on it on the TGV and have it basically done."

Samantha found all of this rather cryptic but since she did not have anything else to do, she gathered her things together and they headed out into the dark morning, the sky leaden and heavy and the streets already wet from the first rain of the morning.

Alex had pulled a Bluetooth adapter out of his bag and slipped it onto his ear. Samantha had never seen him use one. He always seemed to prefer to hold the phone up to his ear. As they started up the small hill toward the river, Alex had already dialed a number and was talking in rapid French to the person on the other end. Samantha was feeling disconnected. Alex had always been open and friendly, a shoulder to cry on and right now she really needed that, but here he was, wrapped up in an electronic bubble as they walked along the streets of one of the oldest cities in Europe. Somehow it seemed wrong. This was not New York where everyone was constantly attached to their cell phone, this was Paris, even though she saw as many people connected here as she had ever seen in New York. But she certainly did not expect her darling Alex to be one of them. It was not fair. By the time they had reached the river, Alex must have called a half-a-dozen people, each conversation seemingly longer than the one before it, the French so blindingly fast and alien that she stopped even trying to follow the conversations instead looking around at the landscape as they walked. She caught some words for clothing and Fendi and Monique's name a couple of times but it was so hard to keep up that she finally decided to enjoy the scenery around her, despite the occasional raindrop that continued to fall. She might never get back to Paris and she wanted to have stories to tell about her trip to Paris and how beautiful it looked, even in the rain.

Alex, between calls, had her pose at a number of locations along their walk, taking several pictures of her with his digital camera, typical Parisian monuments or buildings or scenes in the background. Samantha could not figure out what the point of the pictures was, because they seemed so random to her. Some were of non-descript doorways or arches, others were scenic views of the city. Whenever she asked him what the theme was, he would smile enigmatically at her and shake his head.

"It is for Monique, chérie. I am sure everything will be explained shortly. Have patience."

He made it in to a game and she started to have fun after he promised she could look at them and keep some of them for her photo album. He even let her take several of him as they walked along the Seine, dodging raindrops.

During that time, Alex made one call that was not in incomprehensible French. In fact it was in English.

"Sebastian Bing, please. Yes, Paris Alex, and tell him he is costing himself money for each minute he keeps me waiting."

They crossed the street and Alex mimed that he wanted Samantha to pose in front of the statue there. He took a couple of pictures of her and the scenery before turning his attention back to the phone.

"Seb, mate, how is it? Good to hear. Are we still holding options on those properties in Nice? Good, execute the options, minimum of one year and get them to shave ten percent off of their already inflated prices. Yes, I am serious. Thanks mate. I will be in tomorrow to sign the papers and we can grab a drink afterwards alright? Sounds good. See you then."

"Do I get to know?" Samantha asked as he hung up and put his ear piece in his bag.

"I am sure it will all be explained and it will all make sense in its own time. For now, look pretty and we will continue our walk," he said in that madly polite voice she had come to recognize as his "doing business" mode meaning she might as well ask the statue for information than to get it from Alex. He could be maddening at times. She wrapped her hands around his neck and gave him a deep kiss and then they continued on their walk.

Alex took a few more pictures as the rain began to fall harder before finally opening his umbrella and pulling her under it with him, putting the camera away and steering them to a nearby taxi stand.

"Ready to take on the Wicked Witch of New York?" he asked her after he gave the driver the address of Monique's studio.

"I guess, but I really don't know what she can do for me. I mean, I really don't want to work for Rachel anymore and I don't know what sort of job I will be able to get once we get back. I can only imagine the phone calls she has been making while we have been walking around the city."

Alex just smiled. "Worry not chérie, I suspect that things are about to get very interesting for all parties involved."

They rode the rest of the short trip in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. When they arrived, Alex paid the fare and they hurried into the building as the heavens seemed to choose that moment to open up and vent their full fury upon the citizens of Paris.

"Good morning, Monique. Good morning Greg," Alex said as, dripping slightly, they were shown into the conference room where the others were gathered, waiting. On a side table there was a selection of pastries and coffee and on another table, a smattering of samples and a hanging rack of clothes next to it. Alex walked over to the sample table to look at some of the items there while Amanda's staff was fluttering around them protectively. Samantha went and sat down next to Monique at her instance. 

"Nice collection," he said, flipping over some of the fabrics. "Having a garage sale? Anyone want coffee while I am up?"

"Not for me chérie," Monique said with a tight smile at his antics and Greg shook his head as well. Alex looked at Samantha who was about to say something when Rachel walked in, followed by Michelle and Amanda.




A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 14-15



Rachel looked like she had just stepped out of a spa, rather than out of a cab into a thunderous downpour, despite the water dripping from her rain coat. Her image of perfection would have been maintained except for the thoroughly drenched state of her shoes. Alex turned towards the coffee table to cover the burst of laughter that escaped his mouth, a cough replacing it. He could just imaging what her mood was, having to walk from the taxi to the salon door, the water running like a small river out in front. Michelle had come up to him in the interval of his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" she asked him quietly in French, patting his back. Even Monique looked at him with concern as he continued to cough.

"Oh, I am fine, thank you Michelle," he said in English. "Monique, your staff is falling down on the job."

"Oh?" she replied, looking slightly lost.

"Oui, ce n'est pas la champagne ici," he said.

Michelle looked at him and started laughing, followed by Greg and then Monique herself.

"Alexander, darling, you are quite right, but I thought it a little premature for that just yet. Can you settle for coffee and forgive an old lady?"

"Oh, I suppose I will have to Monique, as soon as you tell me which old lady I am supposed to forgive first?"

"You, sir, are rude," Rachel said into the room.

"Your forgot rude, crude, and socially unacceptable, but I am available for weddings and bar mitzvahs and I am simply a gas at Guy Fawkes parties," Alex retorted, his voice playful and slightly taunting, picking up his coffee and a pastry and walking over to join Greg, who was sitting against the wall trying very hard not to choke on his own coffee. "While you, madam, are everything I have come to expect from an American abroad, or perhaps I should say a broad American?" His voice had gone hard and cold now with all sense of playfulness gone. Samantha noticed some of the tone reminded her of how he had talked to Josephine.

Alex did not see Monique's reaction to this but Michelle's eyes had widened at his remarks. Even Samantha seemed shocked by his words, but Rachel was livid.

"Just what is it you do? Besides seduce women?"

"You mean there are other things in life?" Alex asked, not quite with a straight face, the slight lilt back in his voice, and winked at Michelle who giggled in response. It was exactly the wrong thing to do and Rachel's anger went up another notch which bothered him not at all.

"I would suggest you leave, now, you have no business here and we," she indicated herself and Monique with her hand, "have things to discuss."

Alex smiled like the Cheshire cat, put his satchel on the floor and sat down, all the while looking at Rachel. She wore too much make up and her clothes were too perfect, while he was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and leather jacket. She looked right at home in the salon, while he looked like he had just tumbled out of a back alley somewhere, dark circles of fatigue under his eyes and his face unshaved. Clearly Rachel felt she was in control. Alex knew better.

"Alexander, could you behave yourself for two minutes please?" Monique asked politely, with no hint of emotion.

"Oui, madam. Je m'excuse." He nodded once in her direction, smirked and sipped his coffee. "But you, of all people, know how I am after being rudely awakened, especially early in the morning."

This made Monique look at him again and then look at Samantha. She was better turned out than Alex was, but there was no question she was running on short sleep too.

"Sorry darling, why didn't you say something?"

"We were already awake Monique," he said with a slight shrug and taking a sip of his coffee. "Samantha had a six thirty wakeup call followed by a 7 o'clock firing. I was there for the first, I heard about the second. Oh, which reminds me, I talked to Sebastian and he will put things in motion. I will sign the papers when I am in London. I am sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement when I come back next week."

"Bien sur, chérie that is wonderful news, all the way around. You are a marvel, you know that?" Monique seemed positively giddy.

"I try. Oh, and Rachel, in answer to your question, I also find things. Little things, big things. Sometimes I even find things that I didn't know needed finding until after I have found them, but you would be amazed what I do with them once I find them." The look he gave her was predatory, almost feral and Rachel paled slightly under her makeup.

"Yes, and it would seem Alexander that you have found a number of wonderful things this week," Monique said, looking at Samantha, before patting her hand. "Well, I guess our business here is done then. Rachel, I am sure I am keeping you from your work. Michelle, if you would see she finds her way out please?" Monique's tone left no doubt that Rachel was no longer welcome and Alex wondered if Rachel would ever have much success in France ever again.

"Oui, madam." Michelle said. Rachel looked like someone had just told her that she had been fired. Samantha, too, looked a little shocked but there was no mistaking the iron grip that Michelle had on Rachel's arm as she helped her from her chair and out of the room.

"Such a lovely girl," Monique said as the door closed, but her toneless voice left Alex wondering if she was talking about Michelle or sarcastically referring to Rachel. "Now, Amanda, come take a seat and we will wait for Michelle to come back. Alexander darling, come up and join us please, you too Greg, I will need your help as well. Did she really fire you darling?" Monique asked Samantha sympathetically.

"Yes ma'am. She said 'you will clean out your desk and find yourself another job.' Which sounds pretty much like 'you're fired' to me."

"Did you have any possessions in your desk that you cannot live without?"

"A couple ma'am."

"Well, then we will make sure you are on the next flight back to New York, but that can wait a few moments. Michelle, would you please join us? Sit next to Alexander, he doesn't bite. Normally." 

The room laughed at that comment and Alex made to nip at a finger that she was waving close to his mouth, teasing him.

"Now, to business," Monique said. "First, I have finally decided to open a shop in Nice. I have been thinking about this for a while and I think now is the time. Michelle, I want you to run it please. You can pick two or three people from here to go with you or you can hire locally in Nice, it is your choice. Please don't take too many of the key people that Amanda relies on though. Amanda, you will continue running this salon of course. Alexander, do you have the plans of the property in Nice?"

"Not with me, no, but I will get a new set from Seb when I see him tomorrow and bring them back. Do you want me to put Michelle in contact with a construction team? The last time I was in the building it needed a fair amount of work before it would be suitable, and I cannot imagine it has improved any."

"Yes please, and work with Remy as well. I would like him to consider operating the bistro."

"I will do that when I come back," Alex said, pulling out his black book and making a note.

"Now, Samantha, darling, would you be open to a job offer? It would seem that I have need of someone with your skills."

Samantha was stunned speechless. A job? Working for Monique? "I would be open to any offer you cared to make ma'am," she said, her voice shaking with pleasure and excitement.

"Excellent. You will come out to the house then with us and we will talk. Alexander, would you work with Amanda and Michelle? You are so much better at project planning than I am."

"Yes, of course."

"Not to worry, I promise I will have her back by dinner and then you can have your champagne," Monique said with a smile as Greg got up to help her out of the conference room, Samantha following them out, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Chapter 15

"Alex," she began tentatively, taking his hand in hers, "what happens next?"

Monique had been true to her word. Samantha had been back by 4 and they had made love until the sun went down and both of them were too hungry to continue. Rather than try to get to somewhere in the rain, they had used the back door from the building to Martin's bistro.

Samantha's seriousness killed his glib response before he had even uttered it. What happens next? It was not a simple question, nor was it one that had a simple answer. Beginnings were always so difficult, especially with the loose threads that still remained. Josephine was by no means finished mucking around and it could only complicate things going forward. He decided that was a problem for another day and pushed the though from his mind.

"I don't know, Samantha. I would like to hope there is a next," he smiled slightly. "There is a lot we have to learn about each other. And, it looks like we will be seeing a lot more of each other, certainly professionally." This got him a slight nod. "And I would certainly like to know more about you personally." Her smile echoed his in intensity now. "I guess we should let things progress. I have to come to the States in a couple of weeks. Originally, it was just supposed to be an in-and-out trip to present a paper, but now it looks like I will have to prolong the visit, given Monique's new desires to set up a shop in Manhattan too. And I think you might enjoy my help getting that started. Unless we somehow kill each other first arguing over the details," he said smiling at her.

Samantha was smiling now, the great hand that had been threatening to crush her heart had loosened its grip and the evening seemed more brilliant despite the subdued lighting.

"I can think of nothing I would like more Alex than working with you and getting to know you. I want to show you New York like you have shown me Paris."

"I think we would have a marvelous time," he said, as he took her hand and they went upstairs, a slightly sly smile on his face. He would wait until later, he decided, before he told her about the years he had spent living in New York. He also made a mental note to call his cousin in Brooklyn but that would wait until he got to London.

--- // Fin // ---