A ROMANCE IN PROVENCE

April - Part 1

Spring was now established. The region was becoming greener and greener, with cherry blossoms bringing a touch of romance to the surrounding air. The days were getting longer, and everything seemed brighter, more joyful. I hadn’t yet known the Luberon in summer, but this early spring made me fall a little more in love with it.

Everything was going well at work, despite some tensions with certain members of the team. There was one of my colleagues, however, with whom things were going rather well: Hugo Ricard.

After our first date, which I would describe as successful, even if he had escaped in a hurry, we got into the habit of going out together on the weekends. He took me to beautiful restaurants, to art galleries during walks in small villages in the region, we occupied ourselves like normal couples who were getting to know each other. However, we remained discreet about our relationship at the hotel, because we didn’t want to become the favourite subject of discussion around the coffee machine.

We had been dating for a month, but we had done nothing more than kiss. And even if he did it very well, I couldn’t wait to see a little more.

That evening, he had offered to join him at his house for dinner, and I was hoping that our relationship would slide into something forbidden in movies for the under eighteens. I greatly appreciated his company and his delicacy, but the parts located in my little lace panties also demanded his attention.

So I took out the heavy artillery to seduce him. I borrowed Danielle’s firefighter-red dress, which I matched with shoes of the same colour. I put on stockings and a garter belt that my roommate had convinced me to buy a few days earlier. Even if I had to take out the instructions to attach them after the screw-ups, on an exceptional evening, an exceptional outfit was required. According to Danielle, I was a real temptation: “only a saint or a gay could have resisted me”.

As soon as I walked through Hugo’s door, I could see that my boyfriend wasn’t indifferent to my appearance. Something in his blue eyes clouded, and I was glad to see that my efforts didn’t go unnoticed. He kissed me tenderly, and told me immediately afterwards:

“I must leave you, I have milk on the stove.”

Yeah, because Hugo was the cooking type.

Who really cooked.

And people who actually cook know that you don’t leave milk on the heat, otherwise you spend 4 hours cleaning your stove. Anyway, that was what Danielle had explained to me. Because I used to microwave milk for hot chocolate, and that was it. She had told me all this because of a French expression that I didn’t understand, like: watching milk in a pan. Unless it was: waiting for milk to boil?

“You need help?” I tried.

Hugo wasn’t fooled and now knew that the greatest help I could give him in the kitchen was to fill the dishwasher. He politely declined my offer.

I started to serve each of us a glass of wine and watched him while he was busy. His gestures were precise, he seemed to know exactly what to do and in what order. The space was immaculate, and despite the number of preparations, not a single object was out of place, there were no stains and no pieces of food were lying around. Danielle was also a good cook, but for an hour she spent cooking, it was also necessary to devote one to tidying up and cleaning. Here, we would have thought we were in the middle of an operating room, performing microsurgery. Clear, sharp, precise, without bloodshed.

When he put what looked like a dessert in the fridge, I told myself that he had worked a lot to prepare food for us, and now was the time to reward him for all his efforts. I was interfering with his work plan, although I don’t think it’s really necessary, in my opinion.

I pressed myself behind his back, tied my arms around his waist, and placed a series of kisses on his neck. My heels helped me gain a few centimetres which allowed me to have easier access to this place than normal.

Hugo turned around and put his mouth on mine. He kissed me slowly, tasting my lips while caressing my lower back. I then raised my hands to cup his face, intensifying our kiss. I then pressed my body against his. My n*****s were already standing up in their lace shackles, thanks to the contact of his firm chest against them. In the space of a few seconds, I was reduced to the state of walking marshmallow, when he hadn’t yet touched a single square centimetre of my bare skin. Determined not to wait long extra minutes for that to happen, I ran my hands along his sides. As my fingers crept into where his shirt dived under his belt, a loud beep sounded.

Hugo tore himself from my embrace, leaving me stumbling on my high heels. He grabbed a potholder, stopped the noise that turned out to be the oven timer, and opened it. He pulled out a dish and asked me:

“I hope you like cheese soufflé?”

“Uh, yes, certainly...” I stammered.

“Well, at the table then! You can eat it without waiting!”

I followed him still dazed by our embrace into the dining room, where he had set the table for the two of us. Cheese soufflé: 1 - Cali: 0.

I hadn’t said my last words, and despite all the attraction of its caramel cream, I had decided that he would be my dessert.

I waited patiently for the end of the meal and helped him to clear. Once the task was done, I was ready to jump on him. I approached with hushed steps (I had abandoned my heels under the table), trying to display a look saying: I want you. Hugo was staring at me, a spark of mischief in his eyes. When I was no more than a few inches from him, I raised my hands, ready to run them over his shirt, and he grabbed my wrists firmly. I threw him an amused look, if he wanted to play the dominating male, I didn’t mind. As long as he quickly pinned me against a flat surface of his choice: wall, sofa, dining room table, or even work surface, I was ready.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice.

This is it, we were here, I was finally going to get a glimpse of naked Hugo Ricard.

“Give me a second, it’s in the bedroom. Sit on the couch.”

I was surprised that he didn’t ask me to follow him to his room, well if he preferred to do this on the sofa, I had no problem with it. So what was he looking for there? Condoms? He wouldn’t have said he had a surprise. Maybe a s*x toy? That could be interesting. Should I take off my dress and take a sexy pose on the sofa? Maybe not. Maybe he was the domineering type? In that case, he wouldn’t appreciate me doing something he hadn’t asked for. And even if I dreamed that he would take me to seventh heaven, I wasn’t ready for s******g and that sort of thing. Might as well wait until he gets back.

I settled on the soft sofa with my legs crossed, to reveal a few inches of the lace of my stockings. Provocative, but not too much.

Hugo returned with an object hidden behind his back and a broad smile on his face.

“Look at what I found!”

He then showed a superb… Star Wars DVD, episode 7!

The shock was such that Hugo immediately realized that something was wrong, and he looked dismayed.

“You didn’t want to see it?” he asked lost.

Indeed, I had explained to him during one of our Sunday walks, that I was a big fan of Star Wars, and that I had missed in December, the release of episode 7, The Force Awakens. He had the sensitivity to remember it, and if my memory serves me correctly, the DVD had just been released that week.

“Oh, forgive me,” I apologized. “I was so surprised, I didn’t expect it,” I added, placing a hand on my heart. “It was so sweet of you to think of that!”

His bright white smile reappeared, and he leaned over to kiss me.

“I’m glad I managed to surprise you then,” he whispered.

Then he abandoned me, to insert the disc into the drive.

According to the case on the coffee table, it would take me at least two hours and 15 minutes before I could try something again. Because I was certainly sexually frustrated, but not to the point of missing a bit of the last Star Wars.

The end credits scrolled, to the sound of John Williams' famous music. I was a little groggy, the combination: cheese soufflé / caramel cream / plush sofa / good film had slightly softened me. Not to mention the fact that I was half slumped over Hugo, my head resting against his shoulder. However, I hadn’t lost sight of the objective of my evening: Hugo + me, preferably naked, and if possible with one, or more orgasms at the end.

I slowly straightened up and began to kiss him passionately. He responded to my kisses, his thumbs gently caressing my neck. To make him understand my intentions as quickly as possible, I slid my fingers towards the buttons of his shirt and undertook to undo the first. Hugo changed position on the sofa, ending my stripping attempt.

I didn’t admit defeat, and if he preferred to stay dressed for the moment, we could very well start with me. So I grabbed his hand and placed it gently on my thigh without letting go. With a slow movement, I directed our two palms towards the edge of my dress and my stockings. When they came into contact with my bare thigh, Hugo hastily withdrew his and stopped kissing me.

“I’m going to drive you home, you’ve had a little too much wine, I think,” he scolded me gently.

“Sorry?!” I exclaimed both surprised and annoyed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, it was I who had the heavy hand while serving you. I just don’t want you to have any problems on the road.”

He got up, and I fell back against the back of the sofa, gasping.

“But what’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

He looked at me blinking, apparently not understanding my mood change. I decided to enlighten him:

“I’ve been trying to jump on you since the start of the evening, I spent 2 hours getting ready, I burned myself waxing, I have to put up with an itchy garter belt, and all for nothing. Any other guy would have just taken me at the front door, and you make me cheese soufflé, and you spend two hours glued to me watching Jedi without trying anything! And now you want to take me back like the perfect gentleman you are because you think I’ve had a few too many!”

“You didn’t want to watch Star Wars?”

I lowered my shoulders, dismayed.

“Star Wars isn’t the problem,” I whispered.

Trying to moderate my remarks, as I had to admit that he had gone to a great deal of trouble for this evening, I continued:

“Hugo, I’ve been seeing you for a month. I love spending time with you, chatting, watching you cook, going to the movies, but I’m not fourteen anymore. Whenever I try to get closer to you and try something more... physical, you move away. You don’t like me?”

He sat beside me and took my hand in his. His face was closed, his jaws were tight. This contrasted enormously with the charming look he displayed almost permanently. I had spoken in English, even though we spoke French most of the time between us. So, he explained himself in my mother tongue, with that little accent that made me swoon.

“Cali, I like you very much. That’s not the problem.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I... I would prefer that we take our time before... before having s*x,” he finally said.

“Oh.”

I looked at him a little startled. Then I suddenly felt like a sinful Eve, trying to lead him on the path of perversion. Suddenly, perhaps because of the biblical image, I had a revelation.

“You never...” I started.

“Yes!” he cut me off. “Well, I mean, I’m not a virgin.”

Despite myself, I accompanied this declaration with a sigh of relief. Honestly, I didn’t know what I would have said if he had told me he was a virgin.

He hastened to add:

“Don’t think I don’t want to take this step with you, but I’ve had some bad experiences in the past, and I know s*x complicates everything. So I would like to take my time before entering this new data into our already complicated equation. Can you understand that?”

What I understood at that moment was that there was nothing better than talking to me about mathematics to calm my heat. I dissected his words, and luckily I was seated, otherwise, I would have fallen backwards. I didn’t see what was “complicated in our equation”, but on the other hand, I never thought to hear this type of speech from a man. Weren’t “taking our time”, and “s*x complicates everything” normally female arguments? The men I had met until now were rather followers of “the sooner the better”. Hugo was part of a separate species. I dared not ask him for the moment what motivated this choice, in part, because I was still under the influence of his revelation. But also, because I felt that he didn’t want to explain it to me this evening. I could only hope that he would confide in me soon on this subject. So I replied after long minutes of silence:

“I understand.”

Although I wasn’t sure I understood at all.

Hugo seemed relieved by my answer, for he suddenly let out a sigh as if he had been holding his breath throughout the conversation. He kissed my hair, stood up and held out his hand to me.

“Shall I take you home?”

I took his palm in mine to get up and replied:

“It’s okay, I can drive. I stopped drinking long before the movie.”

I didn’t add that I also preferred to be alone.

Danielle didn’t know about s****l famine. She brought back, the day after my disappointment with Hugo, a young Englishman with a surfer look. His blond hair, a little too long, seemed to have faded thanks to a perfect mixture of salt, seawater and sun, and he wore an already pronounced tan for this time of the year. Furthermore, all this, I discovered the next morning when I found him comfortably seated in our kitchen, devouring my last cereal. Which ended up putting me in a bad mood. I hadn’t slept much. Apparently, in addition to his advantageous physique, my roommate’s new s*x toy seemed to enjoy unlimited endurance (I’m surprised that he needs to get up early in the morning). And I had discovered several things during the night, apart from our common love of muesli:

First, Danielle was to be classified as one of those who vocalize their enjoyment.

Second, the walls of the apartment weren’t as thick as I thought.

Third, my roommate’s happy one-night conquest answered to the gentle name of John. John which is also my father’s first name. A first name, which Danielle had never stopped pronouncing throughout their lovemaking, in different ways: shouting, screaming, sometimes sighing, and of course groaning. Which inevitably caused disturbing and nightmarish images to scroll through my sleepy little brain, which I won’t even tell you about.

So I found myself face to face with the hairy Kelly Slater because of course Danielle always had to sleep. I tried to find some cookies that I could use for breakfast.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked me, pointing to the one he had prepared.

I gave him a tense little smile as a thank you, after hesitating for a second to refuse on principle.

“My name is John by the way.”

He held out a hand which I wouldn’t shake.

“Yes, I know,” I replied in an annoyed tone that made his smile disappear.

He must have guessed how I learned his first name.

I got up, not wanting to make the moment even more uncomfortable, and headed for the bathroom. At that moment, Danielle’s door opened and I rushed into her room, pushing her inside with me.

“Hey, hi!” said my roommate. “Is the stallion still here?” she whispered although I doubted he could hear us.

“Yes, John is still there,” I replied, insisting on his first name.

“How... Oh! Gosh! Did you hear us?” she exclaimed embarrassed.

“Barely.”

I also didn’t want to make her feel guilty. Even though she had a fairly wild life, it was rare for her to bring someone home. And then we were at her house after all.

“You don’t want to ask him to leave?” she risked, seriously.

“Why can’t you do it? I’m not the one who spent the night getting laid with him!” I exclaimed, shocked that she asked me to do the dirty work.

“If I go, he’ll want to meet again...”

“So what, apparently you had a lot of fun. Don’t you want to do it again?”

“No thanks, he’s a badminton player,” she replied as if that was a logical and reasoned answer.

“And? Are you afraid of shuttlecocks?”

“First, badminton isn’t sexy at all. Second, he wears polo shirts.”

“Big deal. Lots of people wear polo shirts. I don’t see what the problem is?”

“I find polo shirts cheesy. Hotel guests wear polo shirts. That’s not my thing at all,” she added, waving her hand.

Then she looked at me with wide eyes.

“Oh! But here I am! You love the guys in polo shirts! Hugo is totally a polo guy! I’m sure your father would wear polo shirts too, right? I am wrong?” she asked amused.

“My father wears polo shirts and his name is John.”

“Oh, s**t!” she laughed, putting her hand in front of her mouth to contain her laughter. “Okay, you don’t want to ask him to leave? If you do that, I promise to go get the croissants. I know you’re starving.”

She partnered her proposal with a cocker spaniel look.

“How do you know that first?”

“You’re always in a bad mood when you haven’t eaten in the morning.”

“Well, since I’m in a bad mood, I’m going to ask you to send your John back to his own bed yourself, but also, you’ll get the croissants for keeping me awake.”

“Hey! It’s not entirely my fault! First of all, what are you doing home on a Saturday night by yourself? Aren’t you supposed to have a boyfriend?”

“He had things to do,” I argued without much conviction. “And then we met yesterday anyway.”

“Things to do? Just that? And what things can be more important than spending time with your downright sexy girlfriend? Don’t tell me he went to his mother’s!”

“His mother lives in Paris,” I said in an irritated tone. “Look, it’s none of my business. He has the right to have his life, and I mine.”

“Yeah,” she said suspiciously.

She then turned on her heel to find her badminton player in the kitchen, and certainly to thank him for his night exploits, while informing him that it was time for him to leave.