Falling in Paris (Encounters #3)

by Fifi Flowers

  Though my days were never boring, never empty, I still had too many moments to think of Émile. Had he read the journal? Did it bring him pain? Did it bring him joy? Did he think of me? Could he not bring himself to read it without me to listen?

  Waking on my last day, ready to head to one last book shop on my way to the railway station, my phone rang and there was his name. Answer it? Let it go to voice mail? What did we have to say?

  I chose to answer it. “Come back to me,” his words were simple.

  So was my reply, “I’ll be in Paris tomorrow.” Then, I sat on a train, next to a large window, watching the beautiful countryside go by, and read an entire book that I could not recite one word of to save my life. My mind played out every possible scenario: what he would say to me, what he would reveal. He wanted to talk. There were things I needed to know, of course. I played out both parts. He would tell me that he was deeply in love with me, but afraid. Or he would tell me that he had had fun with me, but he didn’t see a future with me. What a gentleman he was, that he wouldn’t let me down over the phone. I assumed that the latter was what he intended to say to me. In ten hours or so, the answers to my pondering were to be disclosed in the Librairie Capet et Fils.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Émile

  I had never been more nervous in my life as I waited several hours for the arrival of Avril. I barely slept through the night. I kept envisioning her on the night train, in a sleeping cabin, snuggled up against the window. I wished I was on it with her. Wished that I had accompanied her to Florence. It is such a romantic city, full of kissing couples everywhere. She shouldn’t have been alone. Then, my thoughts went to maybe she wasn’t alone. Then, I worried that maybe the train ride was too long; enough time for her to figure out she didn’t want me. Enough time for her to come up with what to say to let me down easily.

  Finally, giving up on sleep, I showered, dressed, made coffee, and sat at my dining table with a pad of paper. What should I tell her? Everything. How do I begin? The beginning, of course. How do I tell her how I feel about her? Be honest. Be open. I battled for, at least, two hours with myself, questioning and answering myself—my mind was spinning in all possible directions. My chest was tight, my breathing was irregular, and she was nowhere near me. What the hell would happen when I saw her?

  Still too early to go to work, yet, not by my usual standards, I didn’t want to sit there and fidget, waiting for her to arrive. I walked around the block that once belonged to the Capet family. I looked at the architecture, read some of the plaques that still existed on the buildings since they were originally built. I browsed mostly closed store fronts; some were lit up, some dark. Cafés and bakeries were busy serving their breakfast customers. As I strolled, I began to notice the cobblestones; different sizes, shapes, and patterns. My memory of seeing Avril on the ground, helping her up, walking her home, seeing her eyes for the first time, inspired me. Suddenly, my feet began to pick up their pace and I headed to the shop. I had to be there before her.

  Once I walked into the store around mid-morning, Nique was on my tail, giving me a last minute pep talk. Kissing seemed to be the biggest part of making things right. She told me to make sure I pasted my lips to hers. I felt like I was about to kiss a girl—a woman—for the first time. Then, I was worried that she may not want me to put my mouth on hers. When I told Nique that, she shook her head in disgust.

  “Of course she wants you to kiss her. You’ve been all over her, yet, truly denied her the most intimate component. If you want her to know you think more of her than nothing—kiss her. That is my final advice. Here she comes.” She nodded her head toward the front of the shop. “Don’t fuck up,” she said softly as I heard the door open.

  Turning around with my hands in my pockets, the most beautiful sight came into view. God! She is gorgeous! Not only did she look stunning, she smelled so good, her lavender mixture pleasantly invaded my senses, as I leaned in to kiss each of her cheeks. No! I could not just grab her and kiss her. What if she slapped me? Besides, there were customers present. I didn’t want to make a scene, even if she might like it. But, I was afraid that she might not. It could, most definitely, shock her, as well. Not to mention, I was not quite brave enough, yet.

  Stepping backwards, I offered her some coffee and pastry. She politely accepted it all. Nique, standing on the other side of the counter near us, suggested that I take her up to my office, and that she would deliver everything to us. I thanked Nique and motioned to Avril in the direction of the staircase, indicating that I would follow her up. Inside my private space, I took her coat, tossed it over my arm, pulled out a seat for her, then hung it up. I almost sat behind my desk, but seeing Nique walk in, shaking her head while depositing a tray on top of my desk in front of Avril, I walked to a chair next to Avril. I needed to loosen up. Hidden on the other side would’ve shown I was closed off—business like.

  Uncertain how to start our conversation, I asked her about her trip. A bit of small talk before confessing my family secrets and my own shortcomings.

  “It was nice.” She looked into her cup of coffee as she began to speak. I guessed that it was a bit awkward for her, too. “Beautiful city; I can’t believe I missed it on my travels through Italy. Some great book shops.”

  “Romantic place,” I added. Her eyes lifted to meet mine. My heart beat wildly. Sliding to the edge of my seat, I leaned forward, removed her coffee cup from her hands and set it on the desk. Then, I moved my face close to hers and captured her lips with mine. Lightly, I slid them against hers. They were soft, plush, and warm. As she gasped, I grazed the seam of her lips with my tongue before I felt a flicker of hers say hello. Moving in closer, my hand reached around the back of her head. My fingers woven in her jet black hair, held her in place. I deepened the kiss, explored her mouth, tasting the coffee and cream with a hint of pastry. Delicious! The best kiss of my life! The first kiss since I was in college. I couldn’t get enough, I devoured her. She met me with equal enthusiasm, her fingers gripped my hair and she moaned.

  I could’ve kept on kissing her for hours if not for the sound of, “I just want to feel this moment…” playing through my computer intercom, teamed with laughter, “… red rooms and tie ups…” As much as I liked that song, I broke away from Avril and went to my computer to turn it off. “Sorry.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that about our kiss,” Avril said immediately.

  “Definitely not, but I haven’t really kissed a woman in almost ten years.”

  “So, you were afraid that you wouldn’t remember?” She grinned, “I think it’s like riding a bike.”

  “I was afraid of the emotions I have been feeling for you. I tried to avoid kissing. I have avoided involvement.”

  “Why is that? It wasn’t just me, then? Not the only one that’s meant nothing.”

  “Definitely not you. It was me. You’re amazing. You are not nothing. I’m sorry that you heard that. My father and his destiny stuff. He forgets what my grandfather said about the curse against our family. Maybe he thinks it will outweigh it. Strike it out…”

  “How do you believe in a curse, but not destiny? Both are in the same realm. You can’t believe that a curse is real?

  “How do you explain dying wives and female children? No love?”

  “How can you say no love? You loved your grandfather and he loved you. I see the love between you and your father. Do you mean romantic love? That is not true, either. Your father is in love with Caron. And I’m sure your parents loved each other at one time. Sometimes people aren’t compatible, things don’t always work out perfectly—that’s life. You can’t go around worrying about a curse you were told about as a boy. Do you believe your grandfather told you about it to stop you from falling in love? From loving someone?”

  “My grandfather loved life. He was always so happy, but he lost his wife…”

  “We can’t live forever. It happens because that is how life works. You’re born, you live for however long you a
re given—hopefully, many healthy years—then, you die.”

  “She died giving birth to a girl, neither of them made it.”

  “I’m sure she had complications. It wasn’t because she was carrying a girl. You are a smart man, you have to think logically. You have to live your life, Émile. You can’t be afraid to get close to someone.”

  “You might think I’m crazy, but it’s another thing… my family.”

  “Okay, tell me the story. What do you think? What were you told that your family did that was so bad?”

  “Since the 1800s, my family owned and operated a brothel. Apparently, the mother of a young woman that worked for my family said her daughter was kidnapped and forced to work in our house of ill repute. She claimed that she was liquored up and drugged. The truth, according to my grandfather, was that the girl ran away from home to escape her religious crazed mother. The mother found out where she was, about the life she was leading, and she would not leave her alone. She was disrupting business, making clients uncomfortable—the girl could not stay. So, in the middle of the night, they shipped the girl off to another Madame and refused to tell the mother of her whereabouts.”

  “What a mess,” Avril interjected.

  “Yes, and it didn’t end there. Upset, she went to the authorities, claiming that her daughter was killed by my family. Cooperating with the investigators, they were given the information and story about the woman so they could see for themselves that she had not been murdered. Our family was well-known—nobility runs in our family tree, so I’ve been told—and respected, in spite of the brothel activity. The mother of the girl, not one of those in favor of our family, in turn, placed a curse upon us. She said that it was disgusting how we exposed women, that we didn’t deserve women. She cursed all of our family, living and unborn. Something like that. As the story goes, the mother ended up in a mental facility.”

  “I don’t believe the curse. What about Nique? She’s a female.”

  “She’s from another part of the family. Only our family-line was cursed. My father and I are the last on our line. My great-great-grandfather, Louis, and his two brothers ran the businesses; one brother died fighting in the war, the other died from consumption. Louis had Henri, my grandfather’s father, and two other sons. One ran off with one of the women, the other son worked the brothel with a couple of cousins until he died young. Henri was an instant lover of books. He was the only son that successfully married. He and his wife worked together in the store and had two sons, Bernard, my grandfather, and Edouard. Henri, from time to time, had to help with the other business and he hated it. If he had his way, it would’ve been shut down earlier than it was. Fortunate for his son, it did not; Edouard loved running the brothel.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” Avril questioned me once again, “only the family that owned the brothel is affected by this supposed curse?” Not letting me answer, she continued on, “If you are correct, she said all. It wouldn’t matter. But, you believe that the business was cursed along with your family. So when the brothel shut down, shouldn’t the curse have been broken?”

  “I don’t know that a curse can be broken. Things continued to go wrong within my family after the brothel closed in 1946. My father was born that same year and it seemed to continue on with him. I told you that my mother had trouble carrying female children. And not to mention, the brothel wasn’t shut down by choice; bureaucracy shut all of them down in Paris. Of course, there is still some underground activity going on, but after losing the business my great-uncle passed away not long after. My grandfather’s brother, Edouard, was always into the ladies. He never married; lost his virginity to one of the ladies. Hell, I think all of the men in our family did; a rite of passage.”

  “And, you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  I grinned, “Let’s just say that something was arranged by my grandfather.”

  Shaking her head, “Naughty boys. Your father, too?”

  “Mais oui, of course.” Along with my answer, I wondered if we were to have a son, would I want our boy to be indoctrinated the same as other men in my family had been? Not that I had to worry about that. I hadn’t asked Avril to marry me. Would she even want to marry into my family curse? I was jumping the gun. I had just, finally, kissed her. I was just explaining to her why I had a fear of intimacy. At least, that was what this whole conversation was leading up to and maybe… maybe some sort of proposal after I told her about my family’s past.

  “Something you all share in common.” She smiled.

  “Funny, my father was a lot like his father; he hated the family business—the other one. My grandfather wanted no part of the brothel, like my father didn’t care to run the store. The bookstore was my grandfather’s passion, and he was happy to leave his brother to run the business that was located on the first two floors above the store front. And that was perfectly fine with Edouard. They barely saw each other. There is a separate entrance to the apartments above, off the courtyard, in the back of the building. They also worked different times. The brothel was mainly open at night. The bookstore was open morning to early evening. We stay open later now than back then.”

  “Two ships that never met in the night.” She giggled at her own joke. “Sorry.”

  “I’m told it was a very classy bordello. I’ve seen some old photographs. I’ll have to dig them out someday. I haven’t seen them in years.” Hmm… Where were those?

  “I’d love to see them,” her voice was genuine.

  “It had a lounge area for a meet and greet before going off to the rooms. They weren’t just rooms; they were actual apartments where the ladies of the night lived and entertained. They were not dark and seedy as depicted in movies. The girls weren’t hurt or forced; they worked on their own freewill. When it closed down, they had a hard time getting them to leave. Most of them wanted to stay, some did. The ones that were willing to take on other professions remained. Others, that wanted to continue in that field of expertise, they helped to relocate. Prostitution did not disappear completely, but we left it behind. The apartments were all renovated, once it closed down.” My great-uncle suffered the most. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He drank too much and frequented underground prostitutes. The booze finally did his liver in.

  “I’d say that woman was crazy. That your family was just running a legitimate pleasure business. Employment for women.” Why did she… How did she make it sound like it was just another job? She was so understanding.

  “We have always helped young women. They have either worked in the brothel, when it was still running, the bookstore, or other businesses in the neighborhood. We kept so many apartments available for short term, and we still do.”

  “Like Jade?” she asked with a hint of more in her voice.

  “Yes, she was just another student looking for affordable housing. Marionette often tells the foreign girls that come in, or work in her shop, about our accommodations.” She seemed to like that answer, but then another question arrived.

  “Belle Époque, too? You seemed pretty well-known there.”

  “We have helped employ people there, as well; I’m not going to lie to you. I have participated in activities on some of the upper floors at the club, and at some other similar places, but not in a long time. I have never performed publicly with anyone—only you, my pet.” I moved closer to her again, cupping her face in my hands. I couldn’t help myself, I devoured her mouth again. I was like a starved man in need. Tasting her lips was pure heaven, something I could never tire of and I wanted forever. Reluctant to break apart, I repeated myself. “Only you, my pet.”

  “You like to call me that.”

  “I mean it in the most loving way.” My hands caressed her cheek bones. “I get lost in your lavender eyes, they’re so beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” I was so close to telling her that I loved her, but I stopped myself. I didn’t know what she felt, what she wanted. I had already fucked up. I needed to know why she was here, why she came bac
k to me, to the bookshop. I hoped that it was to me.

  “So, no more sex biz? But, you like to pop into private clubs?”

  “Well, there is our exclusive adult toy room. It is the only sex part that remains for a certain clientele that prefers to shop behind closed doors.” I watched her expression closely.

  “The locked room across from your event room?” A smirk formed on her face.

  “Yes, sex toy sales by appointment only. And, we exchange referrals, with no kickbacks, to the Belle and places like that—some with a little more intense offerings.

  “Can I see?” I noticed a little wiggle, a stirring in her body movement. I couldn’t wait to see what her reaction would be once she entered the room.

  “I’ll show you the room and take you upstairs to see my apartment. I want you to see both. But first, you need to tell me what you wanted to tell me. Why you’re here. And, to stop us from being distracted by what lies ahead—in private, let’s go for a walk and have a long leisure lunch.”

  I’m not saying that that was what I truly wanted to do. Hell no! I wanted to pull her down the stairs, through the store to the hall, and throw open the toy room doors. I just wasn’t sure I would be able to stop myself from trying every device in there on her right in the room. Fortunately or unfortunately, there were appointments scheduled throughout the day with people making purchases. We had to wait our turn, and I wasn’t ready to take her up to my private space, yet.

  Helping her into her coat, then putting my own coat on, I led her out the front door of the bookshop quickly. Walking around and fresh air were both good to clear my head and simmer down the heat attacking my body (namely my cock, straining to get inside of Avril). Kissing her was not enough. Kissing her had me wanting to take her missionary while ravaging… Stop! I texted Nique of our departure once we were safely down the block, on our way to the Metro, hand in hand. I was taking her out of my tempting neighborhood.