SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  “Of course, I have,” he said. “We’ve both been gone most of this year so far. We have not had the time.”

  “Summer’s coming,” she said and raised her glass to her lips with her hopes growing.

  “I’m touring, touring, touring…” With each word, his fist tightened on top of the table. “And you have a film to make. We have two weeks when we can just be alone. Would you rather spend it Greece with the girls, or driving around Paris, looking for apartments?”

  For once, January couldn’t answer him honestly. After five years, she thought that setting up a home together was more important than taking a vacation. However, she looked into those tired eyes that minded her every move. Every summer, he relied on those two weeks to recharge and lounge by the water all day with Simone and Sabine.

  Guilt rising, January couldn’t deny him the only real vacation he took all year. Perhaps, they could even revisit this conversation while they were away and make some solid plans to put down some roots in the fall. She had no aversion to moving to France full-time. She could fly anywhere in the world to make movies. Right now, she just needed something more than the wild abandon they’d shared beneath the covers.

  Most of the food on her plate made a return to the kitchen. Even if she didn’t have to be so careful about her waistline, she was too upset to eat that night. Etienne needed a nap—a long one—and then they could carry on as usual in the morning.

  Still, nothing was really discussed, and everything remained unresolved, at least in January’s mind.

  “Ah, it’s Janny’s favorite food group!” Etienne teased as the waiter brought dessert. Brasserie Lipp made the best crème caramel in the city, and sad or not, January always made room for this delicacy.

  “Be nice, and I’ll save you a taste.”

  “I shall have a taste of whatever I want, chérie,” he told her as he lifted his glass to finish his wine. “Including you.”

  “You think so, Etienne?” She cocked her head just so that he could see her beauty mark. He loved that spot.

  “If you misbehave, I will tie you up and make you watch Nouvelle Star the rest of the night.”

  “Oh, mere threats!” she brushed him off as she savored every bite of the crème caramel. “If you had half the talent of those contestants…”

  Under the table, his hand crawled up her little black dress and squeezed her inner-thigh. “You want me to show you what talent is?” he threatened. “I think you have been away too long. You have forgotten the basic rules of submission.”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Maybe I just don’t wanna play.”

  “Naughty, naughty…” He waved his finger at her. “You know I don’t like brats, Janny. And you’re pushing me this evening.”

  Sometimes, January hated how he had the ability to completely remove her from her anger and replace it with sexual arousal. Regardless of his mood, the chemistry between them continued to sizzle.

  As she clenched her legs together, his fingers stretched out to reach her clit, already swollen beneath her panties.

  “Don’t make me chase you tonight,” he warned. “You know I don’t like to chase.”

  “I’m wearing flats…”

  “Time,” he said and passed his credit card to the waiter, “to go.”

  “Bathroom. Lipstick…”

  “Fuck…” he leaned over the table, “your lipstick.”

  Once the bill was paid, Etienne took her arm and hustled her toward the door, bidding goodnight to the staff along the way. Brasserie Lipp was one of their regular haunts, and the waiters knew them well.

  Stepping into the breezy evening, January winked at Etienne and then took off down the street. She didn’t live too far away, so he didn’t worry.

  “You bad girl!” Etienne knew she just wanted to play again, so he indulged her. Sometimes, they allowed themselves to fall into sexual diversions to avoid the reality of their lives.

  Occasionally, Etienne felt his age with her, and that sprint to catch her was no exception, even though he worked out on a regular regimen. She was small but quick, and when January set her mind on disobeying, nothing stopped her.

  With everything that happened—or didn’t—that evening, she needed some assurance from Etienne that they would be okay. His predatory nature always made her realize that he needed her just as much as she needed him. In her mind, he cared enough to hunt her down, and his tenderness always emerged after he caught and sometimes tortured January as his prey.

  “No! No!” she squealed as he finally caught up with her in the courtyard outside her gated building. Lifting her into his arms, Etienne slung her over his shoulder and cracked her on the ass. January, however, just continued to wail. “Help! Help me…”

  “Neighbors…” he spat as he carried her toward the main door of her building. Allowing her to struggle as he helped her to the floor, he held her in place with one arm and punched in the security code with his free hand, which he then used to cover her mouth. “You shut up and do as I say.”

  The grip of his fingers on her face brought another kick to her knickers. Just the fantasy of running away and having him catch her set her clit on fire. And January knew just what to do to push him over the edge.

  Teeth sinking into the flesh of his palm, she smiled behind his hand. Baiting him drove them both into a sexual frenzy, and while he made every effort to protect her, sometimes, they got rough with each other.

  Dragging her to the cubby beneath the lobby staircase, Etienne lifted the skirt of her dress and promptly cracked her three times on the ass. When she cried out like a baby, he struck her again.

  He loved the fact that January was an actress and could make herself cry in any situation. As long as she focused during his periodic check-ins and didn’t utter her safeword, they were clear to play, and masochism was her game.

  “Ohhh…” she whimpered, and he grabbed her panties and pulled them upward from behind—rubbing the white silk against her clit. He knew she had to come, and he wasn’t ready to give her permission.

  “How does that feel, you naughty little whore?” he growled.

  They both paused for a moment to catch their collective breaths.

  Early in their relationship, they’d chosen her safewords, Vert, Jaune and Rouge—green, yellow and red in French.

  “Vert…” she whispered as she sagged in his arms.

  Pulling her up by her panties, Etienne ordered, “Stand up straight, and walk to your apartment.” Luckily, she lived in the back of the lobby on the first floor. She had the only garden apartment in the building, and they both enjoyed sitting outside in warm weather.

  Shuffling her feet, she made her slow way to her door and shoved the key into the lock. Everything about this building was old, and that’s why January loved it so much. She carried that tradition inside as well.

  To the naked eye, her small apartment looked like a mishmash of finds she’d collected over time at the local flea market, with Gothic undertones layered into the scheme. Not even a closer look could reveal the proclivities that unfolded within the décor. And it all began in the tiny foyer.

  A vibrant display of her vintage umbrella collection blossomed like a spring bouquet from an old cigarette urn she’d procured from an auction at a crumbling hotel in the neighborhood. Not a single person ever questioned the old bamboo canes which she’d strategically placed upside down alongside the umbrellas as decorative “foliage.”

  Right beside the display, a carved wooden chair with a boxy seat afforded her visitors a place to sit when they took off their shoes. Beneath the cushion, a vibrator popped from the spring-locked frame like a Jack-in-the-Box, ready for some serious vibratory play. No one ever realized the mechanisms were tucked inside the bottom of the seat for the ease of battery replacement.

  Creativity carried into the main parlor, where she’d mixed and matched centuries of design, all in hues of blue, purple and gray. Every couch and chair cushion had been double-padded, and beneath each one, she�
��d had restraint straps sewn. With a quick flip, Etienne could tether her to any seat in the room.

  A giant mirror that stretched nearly to the ceiling had been strategically placed so that they could watch every second of their play. All candles in the sconces were temperature-sensitive, ready to light for some intense wax play.

  January had hidden her secrets in the most clandestine places. The bookcase functioned as a façade to the space where the St. Andrew’s Cross hung in an old closet. That’s also where she’d concealed her leather goods—from her muzzle to riding crops and bridles and a selection of whips.

  Even the giant, silver-leafed birdcage that housed a thriving flower pot served a dual-purpose. If he needed to cage her, Etienne simply moved the flowers.

  Beneath the windows, she’d created a seating area with an old wooden trunk that unfolded to a spanking bench. Layers of blankets and throws covered up the clamps, dildos and other necessary accessories in her wicker storage ottomans. The coffee table unfolded as her horse for their all-important farm play.

  Not a single detail of their sexual appetites had been ignored in the scheme of her apartment, and she maintained that sense of funhouse secrecy in the bedroom, too.

  With the snap of his fingers, he commanded her. “Dress, lingerie, shoes—everything off. And sit…in the naughty chair.”

  “Oui, Monsieur,” she said with a curtsy, just to stall. He knew how aroused she was, and he planned to use that against her. Often, January enjoyed fucking up just to see how far she could push him.

  With a lazy air, she unbuttoned her shirtwaist dress and let the top half drop to her hips. A leisurely reach around her back, and she released her bra clasp. Etienne loved to look at her round, bouncy tits.

  She kicked off one shoe, then directed the other toward Etienne’s leg. As it struck his shin, she covered her mouth and giggled. “Sorry, Monsieur.”

  Taking one of the canes from her “floral” display, he sliced it through the air and swatted her upper-thigh through her dress. “Stop procrastinating.”

  Scooting along the floor to collect her discarded clothes, she sighed with resignation.

  He’d already set up the chair and had the dildo buzzing by the time she finished tidying. Her creamy white skin nearly glowed in the darkness. She was just so fucking unique and beautiful. He’d forgotten about their earlier awkward moment. Pointing his finger, Etienne told her, “Sit. Now. Or else…”

  While she was tempted to find out what the “or else…” might entail, January squatted over the phallus and arched her back. He’d turned the settings up all the way, and she felt that fake cock humming through her entire body. She just couldn’t sit still, even as he spanked her nipples with his hand and then returned to strike them precisely with the cane.

  That sharp sting to her nipples and the fact that they’d been separated for so many weeks prompted her to reach out just to hold on to him—to make sure it was really Etienne and not a dream. Over and over, the bamboo sliced against her breasts, and all she wanted to do was suck his cock.

  “You fucking little slut, you’re coming, aren’t you?”

  There was no way that January could have possibly held on for another second. Perhaps, she’d have a sampling of his threat after all.

  As she rode the vibrator, her tits continued to jiggle. Meanwhile, she had no idea how hard Etienne planned to fuck her that night. He just had to give her time to calm down from this all-encompassing orgasm and then carry her to the bedroom, and…

  “Make one move, and I will shoot!” a familiar voice called out in French in the darkness. They hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights. January and Etienne knew each other’s bodies so well in pitch blackness.

  “Ah, putain de merde!”

  “Motherfucker, what the hell are you doing here?”

  Suddenly, the lights came on, and Xavier stood in tight jogging shorts and a lavender t-shirt with January’s giant pet rabbit—Lenny Lapin—in his arms. His neat brown hair had been rumpled by his sleep.

  “Janvier! What are you doing here?” Xavier finally asked, still frantic from the commotion as he covered his eyes. “And get off that chair! I know its secrets.”

  “Oh, fuck, Etienne…” She looked at her lover with desperate eyes. “Help…”

  However, Etienne was already whipping his blazer off to cover her. It was so big that it did the job well. “Here, chérie…mon amour…”

  “It is still making vibrations, Janvier,” Xavier said as he turned completely around. “I hear it!”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, still heaving from her orgasm while Etienne helped her to stand.

  “You said you were coming home!” Xavier said softly so as not to scare the bunny. “I thought I should bring Lenny back to welcome you.”

  “Lenora Lynn Lapin Gallimore—my baby! I missed you!”

  January rescued that white rabbit as a baby from the Bois de Boulogne. It was starving and had obviously been orphaned, so she brought him home to nurse him back to health. She’d named him Lenny Lapin—lapin meaning rabbit in French. However, when she took that baby to the vet, January quickly found out that he was a she.

  As she snuggled her bunny, now a hefty twelve pounds, she stood back and let the men argue it out.

  “Could you not call?” Etienne charged at Xavier. “Do you not know how to use a smartphone?”

  “Seems to be a lot of that going around today, Etienne,” January observed, but he heard her clearly and shot her a sharp glance.

  “January is my best friend,” Xavier dismissed him. “I can do whatever I want to do. And I have keys, remember?”

  “Was I the stupid man who insisted you get them in case of an emergency while I’m on tour?” Etienne wondered out loud. “Silly moi.”

  In the corner, January stood and stroked Lenny with amusement flushing over her face. She took note of Etienne’s eyes upon her as she coddled the bunny closer.

  “Janvier grew up on the farm—she can take care of herself.”

  “Janny…uh…please…?” Etienne interrupted the conversation. “Rabbit fur trim does not look good on that jacket.”

  “But I missed her,” she said simply, stifling her laughter. It was one small thing she could do to irritate him in retaliation for her own troubles that evening. “Oh, and you missed me, too, didn’t you, Lenny?”

  “Look, Xavier, she appreciates your care for the rabbit, but it’s time for you to go.” Etienne turned him toward the door.

  “In my pajamas?” Xavier squealed in horror. “I am a fashion designer. I cannot go outside looking like this. I took off my eyeliner. I am wearing my night cream. I am not going anywhere right now but back to bed.”

  Defeated, Etienne shook his head. “There it is,” he gestured wildly to the couch. “You know where to find blankets.”

  “I was seeking my slumber in Janvier’s boudoir.”

  “Not anymore…”

  “But—but, Janvier!” Xavier implored her.

  Although she appreciated Xavier’s efforts to return Lenny, she couldn’t ignore her irritation. He knew damn well that she and Etienne had been apart for months. “Xav, you just disrupted what promised to be the best orgasm I’ve had so far this year, and now you want me to give you my bed?”

  “But I need my beauty sleep,” Xavier insisted as Etienne and January made their way to the bedroom. “Janvier…wait! My Xanax is on the nightstand, Janvier…and I can’t sleep well when I’m not in my own bed. Janvier…Janvier?”

  On the other side of the door, January slipped into a navy blue silk set of baby dolls, while Etienne stripped down to the nude. She hoped that might be an indication that the night hadn’t quite ended yet.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about that,” she said as she slipped into bed and took Etienne’s hand. “And I love you, Etienne.”

  “I love you, too, Janny. Too much.”

  And that’s exactly what frightened them both—that he loved her too much.

  �
�Hey, I have an idea,” January said with high hopes to lighten the wildly vacillating mood. “Want to piss Xav off?”

  Etienne was always game to do a little picking on January’s best friend. “Give it to me, chérie.”

  “Just feel free to make as much noise as you’d like…” As she cupped his balls, she bent down to lick his navel before she shouted, “How’s that feel?”

  “Oh, Janny…two in one day?” he groaned, but he made sure he spoke loud enough for Xavier to hear. “Lower…oh, chérie, lower…yes…”

  Running her tongue over the head of his cock, she bellowed, “You were never one to complain about two blowjobs in one day, Etienne.” He was still hard from their raucous play in the foyer. January just loved to caress him with her red nails, stroking along the soft skin of the underside of his shaft.

  “Janny, you know how much I love that…”

  “Bet my lips are even better…”

  “Oh, Janny…oh, fuck you, slut…you fucking slut…”

  Meanwhile, outside the French doors that led from the living room to the garden, two of the neighborhood’s feral cats that January often fed decided to have an amorous night of their own.

  “I am going to kill myself tonight,” Xavier muttered as he pulled the blanket over himself. “I am going to kill myself.”

  From the bedroom, the echoes of their lovemaking continued to disturb him.

  “Now, you naughty girl—right now!”

  “Love it when you come in my hair. Oh, come all over me, please, Sir. Please…”

  Alone on the couch, Xavier pouted as he tossed and turned and promptly pulled the pillow over his head.

  Chapter Four

  “Janny’s back!”

  The two curly-haired girls bypassed their own father for January’s open arms. Sabine and Simone seemed to grow by years every time January saw them. She could still remember how they’d snuggle up beside her on the couch. They used to love when she’d read to them in English, and now, they could pretty much do that on their own. However, they still appreciated the time they spent with their father’s girlfriend.