I’ve been dreaming of a Parisian holiday recently and my dreams sometimes dip into the erotic, so I started writing a new scene. It’s just the beginning, but if there’s interest then I’ll continue it. Enjoy! 💋
It was an unseasonably warm spring day outside of a small café on boulevard de la Tour Maubourg in the heart of Paris, I sat taking in the sights and sounds of the city. In the distance, I could just make out the lights from the Eiffel Tower as the sun made room for nightfall.
Cars rolled along and people strolled by on their way home or to an evening of magic in this city of wonder. It was shaping up to be the perfect Parisian evening.
There was a sexy feeling that came over me just being in Paris. I closed my eyes and thought, I could easily fall in love with the next beautiful stranger to walk by — at least for tonight. I chuckled to myself, this drink must be stronger than I thought.
I was sitting at a small wrought iron table toward the back corner of the patio sipping on a glass of red wine. I was surprised at how amazing the wine was actually since I just ordered the house brand, but this was Paris, France — of course a random glass of wine at a random café was perfection!
Interrupting my thoughts on the wine, almost as if I conjured him out of thin air, a tall muscular stranger took the seat opposite me at my small table.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked in perfect French with a baritone voice that rolled out of a beautifully up-curved mouth.
“No, but there are plenty of open seats at the other tables,” I retorted in half French and half English, or Frenglish as I called it.
“Ah, American! I thought you might be,” he continued in English as if I hadn’t just tried to shoo him away. “Have you ordered dinner yet?” He pulled open the menu that was lying on the tabletop in front of me.
The delicious aroma emanating from the kitchen had caught my attention, as well as the sumptuous plates of food being delivered to the nearby tables. My tummy complained a little too loudly, giving me away.
“I haven’t, but I do believe that I never invited you to stay, let alone sit at my table!” I said in my most urban American accent.
Who does this man think he is? He picked the wrong one to try it with though, I thought. I leaned back in my chair, took another sip of wine, and eyed the curious stranger waiting for him to acquiesce and leave.
His shaved head lifted up from the menu and he smiled completely unbothered and said, “And you guys say that we French are rude. I’ll order for us. Your friend Jackie mentioned that you’re a pescatarian so a dish with prawns should be fine. Oui?”
I nearly spit out my wine!
“Oh my gosh! Are you Jackie’s friend Moscow?” I smiled to cover my deep embarrassment. “How did you know it was me?”
“Jackie sent me your picture and this café is right around the corner from your hotel. I was planning to meet up with you guys for drinks tomorrow, but I was passing by and saw you sitting here alone so I thought I would introduce myself.” he said coolly.
“No,” I smirked. “You just thought you would fuck with me.” I laughed to show I was a good sport.
“Non,” Moscow said. “That will come later.” He smiled with a devilish look in his steel-gray eyes that pierced my soul and lit a fire between my thighs.
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