European Secrets (Paris - Vol. Two)

European Secrets

Paris – Vol. 2

By Ana Vela

© 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story is intended for mature adults only. It contains sexual scenarios, dirty language, hot action, and much more! Please store your digital files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

~
Paris: Volume Two ~

Annie stared out of the airplane window and watched as the baggage staff piled the last few suitcases into the hold. The runway’s tarmac sparkled in the midday heat, and she was thankful for the air-conditioned cabin. She sat in a small window seat, hoping no one would sit next to her. Her feet still felt tired from three days of beating the pavement and exploring the city of Madrid. As the cabin door shut and flight attendants took their seats, she silently said goodbye to the city that had welcomed her. She already missed Pedro. Their time together had been magical. He brought out a side of her that she never even knew she had. He was sexy, commanding, yet gentle when needed. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. “Forget him,” she tried to tell herself, thinking of what - and who - could be waiting for her in Paris.

Finally, the door to the airplane was closed and the stewardess’s voice came on over the speaker. No one had sat down next to her, and relieved, she leaned back as far as she could without reclining her seat. Annie had always hated flying and take-offs were the absolute worst. She closed her eyes as the plane ascended, feeling her stomach lurch at the rapid incline. She suddenly wished that she had a hand to hold, someone to tell her ‘it’s all going to be okay’.
Pampered
had become something else entirely, she realized, and she hadn’t wanted the game to end there. It had been both the man and the game that had created the appeal of submission.

She remembered his light touch on the massage table. How she’d silently begged his hands for more until she’d arched her back and opened herself to him. The man and the situation had unravelled her completely. She had explored parts of her mind and desires that she never knew existed. She felt more than a bit doubtful that the experience could ever be repeated with someone else, and then forced the thought out of her mind. Something new was waiting for her, and it was time to move on. As the events of the last few days sank in, the self-restriction that had been a turn on, she figured, and Pedro’s willingness to play.

As a flight attendant served drinks and passengers sat transfixed to screens in the backs of their seats, the memory of Pedro returned, despite her best attempts to forget him. His tie around her wrists, binding her ever so gently to the bedpost. His hard, muscular body pressing against hers in the shower, and his insistence that she follow his directions, no matter what they were.
Pampered
had become
dominated
, but only because she had wanted it. She wondered what
Spoiled for choice
would bring. She had no idea what Kate had planned for her next adventure in Paris. The only information she’d shared was the address for the villa and a cafe on La Rue du Commerce. Annie pictured herself walking the streets of Paris and waiting at a cafe table to meet an unknown man, some tall, dark, and handsome Parisian with flowing black hair.

As the scattered clouds outside faded and she saw nothing but endless blue sky, Annie reclined her seat and tried to nap. She’d be landing in the middle of the afternoon, and would be navigating the next instalment of the game without Kate. This meant that she would have to be fully awake, fully energized, and ready for whatever crazy things Kate had planned for her in Paris.

After landing, Annie emerged from the airport greeted by the bustle of passengers, all aiming to exit Charles de Gaulle and find the taxi rank a step ahead of someone else. After ten minutes of shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she finally reached the front of the line and climbed into a Citroën with
Taxi Parisian
stamped on its door. She took a deep breath and exhaled, planning on how she would try to communicate exactly where she needed to go.

“Um..I want to go to...je veux aller à Villa Leandre.” She cringed at her own poor pronunciation. It sounded nothing like the French of the language CD she’d tried to study before leaving. The cab driver furrowed his brow and strained to understand her. After a few more back and forths, Annie didn’t know if she’d ever be leaving the airport even. But apparently she’d finally communicated well enough: the driver nodded and veered into the road.

The ride from the airport through the outer rings and then through the city was long and slow as they chugged and halted in traffic after a long stint speeding along the highway. At last they neared the district of Montmartre, where stone apartment blocks and villas lined green parks and busy plazas. The streets were bustling with activity and Annie let out a relieved smile when she realized that the scenes were even more beautiful than she had imagined. She saw the white domes and steeples of the cathedral towering above the cobbled streets as the driver slowed over bumpy cobblestones. Kate had promised her she’d be staying in one of the most beautiful parts of the city, and she now understood why it deserved that description.

As the driver turned onto Villa Leandre 18, Annie found herself in cozy, almost-suburban elegance. Rows of villas, shaded and partially concealed by bright green shrubbery, stood lined with low wrought iron fencing. Annie could imagine herself living here in another life; a famed author, working out of an upstairs office with a view of the tree-lined streets of Paris. The narrow road curved around a slight bend, and the cab finally came to a halt. The driver left her on the street with two suitcases, and she gazed up at peaked roofs over wide windows behind brown shutters and short balconies.

The red brick villa where Annie was to stay sat wedged between two whitewashed neighbours. A thick, emerald green canopy of leaves hung low over the doorway. As she lugged her suitcases indoors, she inhaled the fresh scent of garden greenery and sighed at the relief of arrival. Thick, plush rugs covered a neatly tiled floor, and the subdued upholstery and curtains were all in neutral shades. A few modernist pieces decorated the walls on large canvases, and the owner of the villa had left fresh flowers and fruit on the dining table. She flopped into a plush L-shaped sofa and took in her new surroundings, beaming widely. She had two hours before she was supposed to make her way to the café for her rendezvous with Kate’s next man.

She remembered Kate’s words in her last email: “He’s gorgeous, but if you’re not into him, don’t let him drive you home.” Kate had chosen well with Pedro, but Annie wondered if all the men she’d selected could possibly be that attractive and romantic. Surely there was a finite list of men she knew. Or perhaps the game was driving her attraction in the first place, and she hadn’t even realized it. She scribbled down her thoughts in her notebook that was now half full with scrawl. ‘Maybe I’ll actually have a book after all of this…” Annie mused to herself.

After a brief nap and shower, Annie pulled on a short shift dress and black flats. Kate had instructed her to wear a red dress, and carry a map in her hand, so that the mystery man would be able to spot her. The Madrid sun had tanned her legs, and she looked more alive and youthful than she had in years, she mused. She took one last look in the mirror, then grabbed her purse and left, with a map of Paris in her hand.

La Rue du Commerce bustled with shoppers carrying large paper totes and families trying to keep track of their running-wild children. They meandered in and out of intimidatingly expensive boutiques and busy cafes and sat on benches, taking a rest and enjoying the scenes. No one seemed to move with the urgency that Annie was used to; she liked the pace of life here and was starting to see what the Parisian charm was all about. Annie walked toward the cafe, feeling self-conscious, carrying the map and looking behind her, wondering if he’d already seen her. She stood awkwardly by the door, watching as customers came and went, wondering if one of the men could be her next meeting. Couples settled into seats on the sidewalk under a large red canopy. The smell of cigarette smoke reminded her she was far from home. Ten minutes passed, and she grew restless. She double-checked her phone. Kate had said four o’clock. Piano music played inside, interrupted by the voices of coffee drinkers.

“Annie, yes?” A tall man with dark brown hair and bright green eyes tapped her on the shoulder. His voice revealed only a very subtle French accent, and his immaculate dress shirt and pants suggested he had exceptional wardrobe sense. She felt self-conscious in the dress she’d bought for thirty dollars in Macy’s: the messy tourist who could never achieve French style.

“I’m Adrien.” His smile suggested he thought otherwise though, and his eyes danced over her subtly as his smile widened. He kissed her on both cheeks and guided her to a table.

“You’re very beautiful.” Adrien said as he flashed her a beaming smile.

Annie glowed, wondering if all European men were as blunt as Pedro and Adrien with their compliments, or if Kate had instructed both to be as upfront and flirtatious as possible. She wasn’t complaining; she just wasn’t used to such outward displays of affection.

“Thanks,” she replied, blushing and tucking her hair behind her ear. She wanted to ask him what he did for a living and if he was local, but knew she couldn’t. It was one of the rules. Another man who had to remain a stranger. Instead, he shifted the conversation toward her.

“So why are you in Paris, Annie?” His voice was soft and warm, and he didn’t take his eyes from her.

“I’m here to research. I’m a writer.” She squirmed at her euphemism, wondering how much he knew. His broad grin told her he understood.

“And what kind of writer are you?” he asked, one eyebrow arching up in a questioning pose.

A waiter in a white apron and black pants left cappuccinos on the table and disappeared. Adrien watched as she stirred sugar into her coffee. She pictured him undressing her with more than his eyes, and hoped the attraction was genuinely mutual. For a moment, she wanted to break out of the game and wished she’d simply met him there.

“I write women’s fiction.”

Another broad smile. “Women’s fiction? What do you mean by that?” He was teasing her, gently.

“Romance...erotica.” She laughed a little as her blush deepened.

“Ah. So this is your...research?” He almost laughed with her but instead took a sip of coffee.

She nodded, but felt unsure of what to conclude with.

“Paris seems beautiful,” she arrived at, watching as he rocked his coffee cup and listened.

“It’s a wonderful city. Where are you staying?”

“In a villa in Montmartre,” she replied, trying to decipher if he already knew.

“That’s one of the best parts of the city. How long are you here for?”

“Three days. Then I go to Rome.” She felt uncomfortable suddenly, as if she’d revealed that he was only one of several men who were involved in the game.

He seemed only curious. “Oh? Why Rome?”

“I always wanted to visit. Thought I’d make a stop while I’m on this side of the Atlantic.” She felt herself tense and then relax, comfortable she’d sounded convincing.

She looked at the bottom of her coffee cup that was almost empty, waiting for him to offer a new thread of conversation. As she looked up, she met his stare and realized he’d been watching her fumble for words.

“Can I drive you home, Annie?”

His suggestion came sooner than she’d expected. “Sure.”

He left a handful of Euro coins on the table and nodded to the waiter. “Let’s go.”

She followed him through the crowds, squeezing past commuters who were now marching briskly past stores closing for the day. As she walked by his side she squinted into the late afternoon sunlight and grappled with the return of the strange sensation of enjoying a man’s sudden proximity, but knowing it would soon be gone.

The sun-scorched leather of the front seat of Adrien’s black Alfa Romeo stuck to her legs as she settled into the passenger seat. The air conditioning brought welcome relief, but she felt a wave of momentary awkwardness at sitting in his car so soon after meeting him.

“There’s a plan for tonight, Annie.” He looked at her briefly in between signalling and turning off the wide shopping street.

“Oh yeah? And what is that?” She tugged on the hem of her dress as she saw how much skin showed from below the hem.

“I’ll explain later,” he assured her, catching her eye in the rear-view mirror.

He plans to do more than just drive me home, she deduced, feeling her body respond to what his words implied.

As he parked on her street, she wondered how much he wanted, right there and at that moment, and held her breath. She opened the car door, and he followed, walking behind her up the steps of the porch.