L'homme français, la partie six

I spent plenty of time with Jean-Pierre. There was so much to see and do in Marseilles. One weekend was special though. As a treat, for not speaking English or asking him to translate for a month, Jean-Pierre had a wonderful surprise for me. A weekend in Paris! I had been dying to go for several months and now was my chance to see the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.

Jean-Pierre borrowed his cousin’s car and we made the 6-hour drive on Thursday afternoon. We stopped for a quick bite to eat before arriving at a chateau just outside of Paris. The tiny cottage belonged to a family friend of Jean-Pierre’s. He used it a few times a year to get away from school.

Much to our surprise, Marcel was at the chateau! He didn’t know we were going to be there that weekend but the situation was easy to sort out. The chateau had a few bedrooms and Marcel was planning on spending the weekend just sorting his thoughts. While we weren’t going to have the privacy we wished for, it would be interesting to get to know Marcel.

Marcel had a reputation for loving and leaving the ladies. Very much a male version of me. It annoyed me beyond irritation so the first couple of days, there were a few arguments between myself and Marcel. I felt naked and very exposed under his stare. I begged Jean-Pierre for us to stay in a hotel. Of course he refused. He didn’t want me spending my money on his because this weekend was his trip. I didn’t realize that Jean-Pierre had friends in Paris. One of them was throwing a party in his honor Friday evening.

I was intimidated meeting all of Jean-Pierre’s friends. They ignored me for the most part, given their distaste for Americans. Americans think the French are rude but it’s the other way around. I sat on the couch for a while, looking very uncomfortable until someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Marcel. I gave him a small smile as he pushed a drink in my hand. It smells like whiskey but I didn’t care. I downed it in one swallow, savoring the burn in my throat. I felt so out of place that I needed something to soothe my nerves. Jean-Pierre was in another room, entertaining the crowd with conversation. Marcel poured me another drink, then took my hand to lead me out on to the terrace.

“Mon amie, why do we argue so frequently?” Asked Marcel.

“I don’t know. But it annoys me,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way.

“I like you. I find you very beautiful.”

I didn’t know what to say. Me and beautiful were rarely put in the same sentence and to hear it from Marcel, was disarming. Maybe I could learn to like him and be his friend.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip of my drink.

I’m not a big drinker so halfway through my second drink, I was feeling pretty good. Marcel stared into my eyes in silence before reaching out to touch my face. I closed my eyes and melted into his soft touch.

“Mon amie, may I kiss you?

L'homme français, la partie cinq

“Why did you call me your “girlfriend”? I asked impatiently.

“It’s not like you think. You are a girl and you are my friend.” He frowned at my question. “Is that not acceptable?”

“It’s fine but it took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Marcel, he is different. He is, how do you say… Goes after all women and uses them. Like il les jette ensuite.”

Trash. I understood that word. Jean-Pierre used “girlfriend” as a way to protect me. I could accept his reasoning behind it. I was in a strange place and knew very few people here. It wouldn’t have been difficult for me to get caught up in trouble. I mean, I was leery of some things but I didn’t know everything at my young age.

Jean-Pierre paid the bill and we went for a walk around the city. He held me close to him as he pointed out various attractions of the city. Many places were closed on Sundays, so we made plans to visit them another day. We just wandered around the city until we ended up at a place near the university.

I curiously asked, “Where are we?”

“My home,” he replied.

“Okay.” I was curious to see how he lived.

His flat was small with a communal bathroom. He shared the floor with four other guys. My place must have seemed like a palace compared to this. While his place was tiny, it was very bright and homey. I felt very comfortable in his humble surroundings.

“We won’t stay, is that okay?”

“Sure. Did you want to bring some clothes?” I didn’t waste time in asking him to stay with me.

“Oui, I would like that very much. You won’t get bored with me, yes?” He shyly asked in return.

“Non. I like you.” I’m bold like that.

Jean-Pierre packed a small bag with a few clothes. He stopped in front of his bookshelf and picked out a couple of books before we left his flat. The walk back to my apartment was quick. I was grateful for this because the weather had turned dreary and started to rain. We quickly ran up to the door of my apartment as the sky opened up. It was a pure downpour!

Once inside my apartment, I lit a fire in the fireplace. It was chilly and since we both were drenched from the rain, we needed to get warm quickly. As I stripped out of my wet clothes, Jean-Pierre came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. His state of arousal was pushing on my back. He was kissing my shoulders. He wasn’t interested in getting any pleasure in return from me. I was enjoying his kisses so much that I didn’t notice that I was shivering. He left me standing in front of the fire and went into the bedroom for a blanket. I moved the unpacked boxes to make room for us to sit on the floor. It would have been too much work to clean off the couch.

When he returned, I was disappointed to see he was no longer aroused. He spread the blanket out on the floor with a couple of pillows. He grabbed one of his books before we laid down. I found myself in his arms with my head on his chest as he read aloud to me from his book. He would stop occasionally to explain what he was reading to me. I dozed off while he read, lost in a state of bliss and contentment.