by Twyla Turner
I usually prefer to keep my love life private. But since they’re going to be meeting Etienne after lunch, and knowing how affectionate he is in public, I figure it’s best to get it out of the way now. Besides, it will save any embarrassment that might occur if Roz or Tiffani tried to hook up with him. Which, who wouldn’t? He’s gorgeous.
“Actually, yes. I have.” I feel my ears heat.
“Oooh! Do tell.” Tiffani leans forward.
“His name is Etienne. Um…you’ll actually get to meet him after lunch. He’s an amazing artist and will be the one leading our little sip and paint class.”
“Etienne?!?!” Roz pretends to pass out. “Can that name be any sexier?”
“And he’s an artist. Gawd, I bet he’s sexy as sin.” Tiffani swoons.
“I can’t wait to meet him!” Yvonne rubs her hands together gleefully.
“Are the rumors true about Frenchmen?” Roz asks.
“Which rumors are those?” I say, stalling. I know exactly what she means.
“The ones about them being phenomenal lovers.”
“Well…I don’t know about all Frenchmen. I only know about one.”
“And…” Roz presses.
“And…he’s amazing.”
“Better than the American men you’ve been with?” Charlene jumps in.
“Without a doubt.”
“Damn!” Roz and Tiffani say in unison and then high-five each other.
“Okay, that’s enough.” I hold up my hands, ready to put the conversation to rest. “I usually don’t talk about my love life. That’s all the dirt you’re going to get outta me. If you want to know more, you’ll have to conduct your own research.”
“That won’t be a hardship. I’ll gladly be the guinea pig for this experiment.” Roz raises her hand. “And I think I’ll start with Monsieur Lucien.”
She holds up his card and grins like a cat that just caught a mouse. We all laugh and move on to safer topics.
~~~
The ladies and I walk into the large room filled with natural light streaming in through floor to ceiling windows in the university’s art building. The art studio/classroom is filled with a maze of empty easels. Six easels in the front, hold empty canvases and make a half circle around an empty dais in the front of the room.
Etienne has his back to us as he places the last of the art supplies I purchased on one of the easels. He hears our footsteps and chatter as we walk in. I swear it’s like in slow motion as he straightens, turns, and runs his hand through his hair, exposing his face. The ladies fall silent.
In classic, Etienne style, he’s dressed casually. Never one to try to impress, especially when creating. Yet, he somehow still does. Boots, ripped and paint-stained jeans, a white t-shirt, and the leather jewelry he never takes off. He’s the epitome of sexy artists.
I wonder when or if that feeling will ever stop. The feeling I get when I see him after we’ve been apart for any length of time. As if I’m seeing him for the first time, every time.
He smiles brightly and starts to walk towards us, pulling me from my stupor.
“Ladies, this is Etienne Lemaire. Our art teacher for the day,” I say as he stops in front of us. The girls still haven’t said a word. It’s the quietest they’ve been since I picked them up at the airport yesterday.
“Etienne, this is Yvonne, Tiffani, Deena, Roz, and Charlene.”
He kisses each of their hands and repeats their names as he goes.
“Bonjour, ladies. I am so excited to work with you today. I’ve set up your workstations so we can get right to it.” He gestures over to the easels.
He turns back to me. Unable to help himself, he leans in and kisses my lips softly.
“Bonjour, chérie.”
“Bonjour, Etienne.” I smile shyly and move away from him before I do something very unprofessional.
The ladies are still rooted to the spot, watching us. Etienne turns and walks to the front of the room, and they finally burst out in hushed but animated voices.
“Gotdamn, girl!” Roz hisses under her breath. “That’s what you’re working with?”
“Right?! He’s fine as hell!” Tiffani adds.
“I’d never leave either,” Deena says, surprising us all.
“Where on God’s green earth did you find him?” Yvonne asks.
“At his art exhibition,” I answer as I start to move towards the row of easels. “He almost exclusively paints black women. His work is breathtaking.”
“Are you serious?!” Roz exclaims.
“Damn,” Charlene says. The single word saying a mouthful.
“Come on, let’s get started,” I suggest as Etienne waits for us to sit. I’m sure he has more to do after he’s finished with us.
I sit on the end, letting the friends sit side by side. In between each easel is a little table with glasses of wine with an open bottle for us to share. I pick my glass up and take a sip. Etienne looks at me and winks before beginning.
“Alright, ladies. Customarily, for beginners, we would start with something simple, like a bowl of fruit. But where would the fun be in that?” Etienne grins wickedly. “Oh no, for you, I have something special. Something that you will always remember fondly.”
I frown at him as he turns towards a partition on the other side of the room. We hadn’t discussed what the ladies would paint when we talked about him teaching a class.
“Jean Michel, sortir, s'il vous plait.” He calls out. Jean Michel, come out, please.
A gorgeous man, barefoot in a black robe walks out from behind the partition. We all collectively gasp. His hair is chestnut brown and medium length. Not as along as Etienne’s, but long enough for the ends to brush his shoulders in the back and flop in his face in the front. Thick, straight eyebrows hover over long-lashed, puppy dog brown eyes. The unkempt, sexy scruff on his face surrounds shapely plump lips. He’s easily just as sexy as Etienne but in a different way.
“Sweet baby Jesus!” Tiffani says under her breath next to me, nearly choking on her wine.
Jean Michel steps up onto the platform and faces us with a smile.
“Ladies, today you will be painting Jean Michel. Painting the human form is not easy, but since this is just for fun, I would not worry about it. You can choose to paint him in any style you like. Abstract, realism, whatever. Just have fun. I am here to help and encourage.” He nods towards our model. “Jean Michel.”
I blink in utter shock as our model unties the robe and lets it drop to his feet. He’s completely naked underneath, and his body truly is a work of art. He’s slender with lean muscles and just the right amount of body hair. His body has a healthy tan as if he’s laid out in the sun naked. And his manhood is uncut and quite nice, even soft. I take another big swig of wine.
“Hello, ladies. Paint me as you like. And please forgive me if I become…excited. It is rare that I am painted by a group of such loveliness.” He says in an accent thicker than Etienne’s.
His words cause a flurry of titters and giggles. The group has gone from mature grown women and dissolved into a group of young schoolgirls. If I didn’t have Etienne, I’d probably be the same way.
Jean Michel gets into his pose. One foot forward, knee bent with his hand resting on his thigh and the other hand casually at his side. An easy position for him to hold and us novice artists to paint. Well, most of us. Tiffani paints in her spare time. She’d do it full-time if it paid the bills. Which explains her quirky, carefree style. The soul of an artist.
Etienne walks around to each of us giving tips and words of encouragement as we begin. I flush slightly as I paint this naked stranger.
I look over at Tiffani, and she’s biting her bottom lip as she gazes at Jean Michel. I look back at him, and he’s just as mesmerized by her, their eyes locking. Communicating without words. I swallow thickly and try to keep my mouth firmly closed as I watch our model’s body react to the pretty buzzed-haired woman. The other women pause in shocked awe as well. I swear if we were wear
ing pearls, we’d surely be clutching them. Tiffani looks as if she’s ready to risk it all, knock the easel over, and jump his bones in front of us. And Jean Michel doesn’t even seem the slightest bit fazed that he’s fully erect in front of a group of strangers. Only in France. Although, he really doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of. He is very well endowed.
The caress of a finger down the back of my neck makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I am so focused on the sensual and sexual love connection happening between Tiffani and Jean Michel that I didn’t notice Etienne is next to me. I look up at him, and he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now.”
I shiver and close my eyes.
“Watching two people get turned on by each other makes you want to have sex?” I whisper back.
“Absolutely.”
“Yeah, me too.” I cringe, feeling like a pervert.
I adjust on my stool, my arousal making sitting uncomfortable.
“I bet your pussy is wet and throbbing right now, yes?”
“Etienne, don’t,” I warn.
“Soon,” he says as he brushes the back of his fingers against my cheek.
Luckily, he walks away. Leaving me to paint in peace. Well, kind of. I look back up at Jean Michel. I didn’t think gazing at a beautiful, naked, and fully aroused stranger would affect me. But I am a red-blooded woman.
I try my best to paint him, even though I have zero skill at any kind of art. A kindergartener could do better than the blob I’m painting. I glance over at Tiffani’s painting, and my mouth falls open. Even through the silent seduction going on between her and our model, she’s managed to paint a freaking masterpiece so far.
I set down my paintbrush and pick up my glass of wine instead. There’s no fixing the mess on my canvas, so I’ll drink instead. I get up from my stool and make my way around to the other ladies to see how they’re doing and if they’re enjoying themselves. I leave Tiffani alone to eye fuck Jean Michel in peace and move on to the other four.
“How are you ladies doing? Are you having fun?”
Since they’re my first tour group, I want to make sure I keep anything that works and cross off anything that doesn’t.
“Oh my God! This is so great!” Yvonne grins and glances at both of the men in the room. “For a group of horny women, we couldn’t get better than this.”
“Right?” Roz leans forward.
Yvonne’s painting isn’t half bad. At least hers looks like a human being, unlike mine. I look over at Roz’s and nearly shoot wine out my nose.
Roz looks up at me innocently. “What?”
She decided to paint one big dick, instead of the man himself. It was a pretty good replica of Jean Michel’s cock on an extra-large scale. But I admit, I wasn’t ready.
“What can I say? I was inspired.” She shrugs.
“I bet you were.”
Etienne comes to stand behind me and looks over my shoulder.
“She did a good job, no?”
“Only in France would you not bat an eye at a painting of a giant penis,” I say, looking back at him.
“It is only natural.” He kisses my cheek. “Alright, ladies. Take a few more minutes to finish up. Jean Michel has another class to sit for soon.”
As everyone finishes up their paintings, I pull Etienne to the side to talk in private.
“I can’t believe you did this.” I nod my head towards the naked model. “You’re lucky these ladies are an open-minded and fun bunch. Could you please ask me next time, before you spring some naked man on me?”
“Sorry, I thought it would be a fun treat for them.”
“Oh, it was. Trust me. But the next group could be more conservative and stiff. If we do this again, I don’t want to give anybody a stroke. Agreed?”
“Oui.” He steps closer to me. “There was a time when you were conservative and stiff. I changed that. I can do it again. I have a way with the ladies.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I noticed. But right now, you can only have your way with me.”
“Be careful, chérie. Or I will have my way with you right here.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” I smirk at him before walking back over to the group.
“Okay, ladies. Time to show off your work.” Etienne informs them.
We spend the next few minutes raving or laughing at each other’s work. Mine got a lot of laughs. Though I don’t pay it much attention. My focus is on Tiffani and Jean Michel. He’s back in his robe and is chatting with her privately. Their chemistry is off the charts, and it makes me wonder if that was how Etienne and I looked in the beginning. If so, it’s no wonder Raquel worked so hard to try to get us together. It’s a foregone conclusion that these two people are going to hook up. Being in the process of falling in love myself, it makes me happy to watch someone else get some much-needed love.
“Hey, guys,” Tiffani calls out to get everyone’s attention. “What are we doing tonight?”
“Dinner and drinks, if you all are up for it,” I announce.
Everyone agrees eagerly.
“Is it cool if Jean Michel meets up with us?”
“It’s fine with me,” I say.
“Yep.”
“Of course!”
Everyone happily welcomes him.
“Etienne, you wanna come too? I’m sure Jean Michel doesn’t want to be the only guy.” I turn to ask him.
“Of course. An evening in the company of such beauty.” He looks around at all the ladies. “I would not miss it.”
“Shit. I’m calling Lucien, then. Where’s a phone?” Roz asks looking around as she pulls out the sommelier’s card.
We can’t help but laugh.
Chapter 15
“Let’s get another round of drinks, and then get on the dance floor,” Roz suggests from her seat on Lucien’s lap.
Our group answers with a resounding yes. Roz waves over our waitress, and we order our drinks.
“Can you dance?” I ask in Etienne’s ear.
“Oui.”
“So, you’re an amazing artist. You can sing and play the guitar. You’re a phenomenal lover. And you can dance? Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Hmm…” He strokes his goatee. “I am terrible at playing the tuba.”
“You’re a mess. So basically, you’re saying your good at everything.”
He winks in response.
I look back at our group with a shake of my head and smile happily. So far, the ladies are having a great time on their first trip overseas. Especially, Roz and Tiffani. Lucien had gladly accepted Roz’s invitation to come out. Jean Michel even made a point of meeting us at the girls’ hotel. Neither man, willing to pass up the chance to spend more time with the gorgeous women.
The whole group is stunning in their own way, and I have to admit that we caused quite a stir in the restaurant for dinner and as we walked into the club for dancing and drinks. If it weren’t for the fact that Yvonne, Charlene, and Deena are married, I have no doubt that they’d have their own Frenchmen doting on them. As it is, they’ve already dodged several open invitations.
The waitress comes back with our drinks, and Tiffani and Jean Michel finally come up for air. They’ve been making out since we sat down at our table. I swear that I’m pregnant just from watching them. If Etienne had any say in it, we’d be all over each other too. But I told him to hold off until later. I still want to try to stay as professional as possible. Although, I am dying to get him alone. We have yet to put out the flames that ignited during the painting class.
The familiar beat of a popular song fills the club, and Tiffani jumps up and pulls on Jean Michel’s hand. “I love this song! Let’s go!”
We down our drinks and head to the dance floor. Deena, Yvonne, and Charlene stay at the table to make sure no one tries to take it, cool with letting the couples take the first dance.
Etienne spins me onto the crowded floor. I start to walk backward, and
he stalks me like I’m his prey. He said that he could dance, but I’m not ready. I half expected him to just be overly confident in his abilities. I was wrong. So wrong.
The synthesized drumbeat from the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails pulses through the club and my body. The suggestive words drawing forth images of us in bed together makes one specific place in my body pulse along with the beat. Etienne spins me again, facing me away from him as he molds his front to my back. His arms wrap around me as he rolls his hips, grinding into me in time to the music. Our bodies sway seductively. I lose myself to nothing but the song and his body against mine.
His hands caress me over my red dress. My thighs, hips, and waist. His lips find my neck, and he plants soft kisses there. I shiver and press my ass back against his erection. I turn in his arms to face him. Our legs between the other’s. Our bodies fused as one. We rock side to side, moving in a circle, his thigh presses firmly against my sex. He bends down to steal a kiss, but I pull back and wiggle a finger at him, shaking my head. Silently telling him to behave. Etienne groans and rests his forehead against mine.
“Soon,” I repeat his promise from earlier.
The song comes to an end, and we head back to the table.
“Come on, ladies. Let’s dance.” Etienne says to the three that hadn’t gotten a chance to get on the dance floor yet.
“Oui, it is your turn.” Lucien gets on board.
Jean Michel kisses Tiffani on the lips before holding out his hand to Yvonne.
I smile with pleasure that Etienne doesn’t want them to feel left out and that the other two men feel the same. It’s a sweet gesture, and the ladies gladly accept. The men lead them out onto the floor. Instead of the sexually charged dance that we’d all had a moment before, the men stay respectful and playful as they spin and twirl the married ladies around.
Etienne’s willingness to help out and make sure the ladies have a great time only endears him to me even more. I’m used to being the supportive one. To have someone being supportive of my dream is a new feeling for me. I honestly couldn’t be happier.