SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  “Shuuush…” Nigel hushed him. “Outside. Quick.”

  Even though she had no idea what the hell was going on, January had to laugh. Nigel was fifteen minutes late, and they’d almost given up on him for the evening. Thrilled to see him, January felt the flutter in her belly, but Nigel was behaving awfully suspiciously.

  “Come on. Let’s go…” Nigel hissed and slipped out the door first, ignoring those practiced manners of chivalry. “Hurry. Get in my car.”

  Looking around, January asked, “Where is it?”

  “Behind those bushes across the drive.”

  “Why all the secrecy?” she demanded and hiked up her simple red dress as she prepared to make her way across the cobblestones. She made a mental note that she had to run into town to buy a pair of flats because this place just wasn’t meant for stilettos.

  “My parents think I’m ill, and that’s why I bailed out of dinner this evening,” Nigel explained.

  “Well, what could happen if they found out?” January wanted to know as she clomped behind him toward his navy-blue Jaguar XE. The car reminded her of Nigel—sleek and sexy but somewhat practical with its four doors and sedan style.

  “I don’t know—I’ve never fraternized with guests before.”

  “Does it make you feel dirty, Nigel?” Xavier asked. “I love to make my friends feel…filthy…”

  “Xav, cut it out. Nigel, are you serious?”

  “Dead.”

  Xavier automatically climbed in the back, allowing January to sit next to Nigel. Leaning in between the headrests like a restless child, he looked at January’s date through the rearview mirror. “So how do you know there will be repercussions?”

  “Have you spent time with my father?” Nigel questioned him. “You didn’t say anything at dinner, did you?”

  “No. I didn’t think it was any of their business.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Nigel said and rested his head on the steering wheel before turning the ignition.

  “Wait…how old are you?” Xavier grimaced as he leaned back in the seat. “And you’re not allowed to go out alone?”

  “I’m allowed to go out,” Nigel balked. “I just…well…I choose not to. And I’m not in the mood for their questions this evening.”

  “Fair enough,” January said, quashing the silly banter. “Enough from you in the back.”

  With an exaggerated sluggishness, Nigel crept down the driveway, his foot light on the gas so as not to make any noise. Once they’d reached the edge of the property, he relaxed and turned the radio on. They still had a bit of a drive to town, and January was happy that it was still light outside to catch some of the views.

  There were vineyards and lavender fields, and she found the farm girl in her soul surfacing again. It was a calm summer night, and she got to spend it with two delightful men.

  “Dad, are we at the gay bar yet?” Xavier shouted suddenly.

  “Xav, stop!” January giggled.

  “Xavier, you weren’t supposed to tell Mummy where Daddy goes every Tuesday night,” Nigel interjected playfully. January didn’t know he had it in him.

  “Have you ever been—to a gay bar?” January asked Nigel on the sly.

  “I cannot say that I have,” Nigel answered, “but there’s a first time for everything.”

  Xavier patted his shoulder. “January will protect you. She’s been to more gay bars than I have.”

  “I don’t think anyone can beat your record,” she smiled at her best friend. “And don’t worry, Nigel. It’s just a big dance party.”

  “Until you go to the bathroom…” Xavier muttered to himself.

  “What?” Nigel turned suddenly.

  “Oh, nothing. We are going to have fun.”

  From there, Xavier rattled off the address to a bar he’d found online. He couldn’t go to The Cage two nights in a row. His paramour from the previous evening might be there, and Xavier wanted to avoid a repeat visit at all costs.

  The town of Avignon sat on the Rhône River, and Nigel parked near the water. January could have just allowed Xavier to move on to have his fun and sat there with Nigel all night, gazing at the view. However, she’d promised Xav a few dances, and she never went back on her word.

  The bar was located on a narrow street that couldn’t even accommodate parking. In fact, with its unmarked entrance, the establishment looked like a random apartment building.

  “Welcome to Esclave Bar…” Xavier said much to the amusement of January. Esclave meant slave in French.

  It was dark inside with the occasional flash of light from the dance floor, which was packed with men of all ages showing off their fashions—from the runways to various stages of undress. Everyone was handsome and taut. It was a playground perfect for Xavier’s pickings.

  January reached for Nigel’s hand to give him a squeeze of assurance, which prompted him to jump.

  “It’s only me—and we don’t have to stay the whole night,” she told him.

  “No, that’s nonsense. You promised Xavier…”

  “Well, you tell me when you’re ready. He’s a big boy. He’ll be just fine.”

  Suddenly, the deejay cued up one of Xavier’s favorite bands, The Scissor Sisters, with their rancorous song, “I Can’t Decide.” Xavier included that song on all of his break-up playlists, right after Train. Without a thought, he grabbed January for a dance.

  As Xavier pulled her away to the crowded floor, January looked back at Nigel apologetically and shouted over the music, “I’ll be right back! It’s a short song.”

  Knowing not what else to do, Nigel dug his hands into his pockets and headed to the bar.

  Meanwhile, January and Xavier seemed to be leading a sing-a-long out there and dancing up a storm with their sleek moves. It was almost as if they were celebrating the end of January’s own relationship, and he wondered how long ago she broke up with this other man. Now, Nigel felt like the outsider.

  He’d ordered a gin and tonic for himself. He had no idea what January wanted, and he should have asked. However, he was feeling out of sorts and a little lost in the chaos.

  “Well, look at this,” a voice whispered in French behind him. And then Nigel felt the hand squeeze his ass.

  Drink in hand and straw his mouth, Nigel turned around and smiled with as much etiquette as he could muster. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m with her…” Nigel gestured toward the dance floor. January was the only true woman in the crowd.

  “What a shame…” the man mumbled in French.

  Although that pinch certainly didn’t turn him on, Nigel prided himself on the fact that he didn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as he thought he might have. The other man simply moved away to grab another ass and left him alone. So what if he’d never been in a gay bar before, he reasoned. Nigel could handle himself. With the mojo from a few drinks.

  He ordered another drink, which he’d gulped before placing his empty glass on the bar for another refill. One song turned into three, and he wondered if he’d ever have the chance to dance with January.

  Eventually, she returned to his side. “We got a little crazy out there.”

  “What are you drinking?” he asked immediately.

  “A Mojito would be fabulous.”

  “I’ve got it…”

  Once he ordered, Nigel returned his attention to January. “So, do you have a last name, or do you just prefer to go by one name? Like Cher and Madonna?”

  “Oh! I haven’t yet told you my last name?” January, of course, did that purposely, in case he had any designs on popping her name into Google. Maybe she’d just have to have a few more drinks and tell him the whole truth. “It’s Gallimore.”

  “January Gallimore,” he repeated. “Do you write romance novels?”

  Chuckling, she winked. “Not the first time I’ve heard that line. And it is indeed my real name before you ask.”

  “It’s a grand name,” he said. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed by it.”

  “Oh, I’m not.” Sh
e just enjoyed this time with him without the fuss that usually followed her career. Maybe he’d never seen her movies. Men typically didn’t watch romantic comedies, although she did have quite a male following for her open sexuality. However, Nigel didn’t seem to be one to follow pop culture.

  Fuck, she had to come clean with him before they took this fling further.

  Just as she guzzled down half her drink, that familiar bassline of Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” pulsed through the sound system, and much to her surprise, Nigel fell into the song’s funky groove.

  “Wanna get down?” January plunged her drink into Xavier’s hand as she turned to wrap her arms around Nigel.

  As January shimmied against him, Nigel slugged back the last of his drink and joined her in gyration. With a mocked growl, Xavier grabbed Nigel’s glass, too.

  “Get out on the dance floor—or get a room,” Xavier shouted in January’s ear.

  Little did she realize that those words would come back to haunt her shortly.

  As he backed her out toward the crowd beneath the disco ball, glimmering in all its glory from the center of the floor, January clung to Nigel. Suddenly, there were only two people in the room in her calculating mind.

  “That bastard took our cups!” Nigel teased. “What can we raise to the stars now?”

  “That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear…” January noted with the nip of her teeth to his chin. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. He’d done a little imbibing for courage, she guessed. A drunk Nigel could be a fun Nigel, though. “And I liked it.”

  “Well, bloody hell, I’ll have to do that more often.”

  Sexual tension oozed between them like molten lava dripping down an active volcano. Since their little bit of play that morning, January vacillated between obsessing over the heat burning between her legs and worrying over whether she’d frightened him away.

  His hands, however, moved to that spot where her waist met the curve of her ass, and January assured herself that she’d unearthed his inner-kinkster. Perhaps he was late that evening because he feared the unknown with her, but he showed up. Now all was just so fucking right with January’s world.

  With her every wiggle and jiggle against him, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream a little. January didn’t want to overwhelm Nigel, but now wasn’t the time to be demure. This was her chance to test the chemistry between them. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the challenge in his stare with every pump of his hips.

  As she endeavored to ride his cock right there on the dance floor, he pulled back in a tease.

  “You make me feel like I need a cigarette.”

  “Did you say it’s fag time, darling?” Nigel asked with an irresistible wink.

  “You’re far more fun than I even anticipated,” January admitted, leaning down to accentuate her breasts.

  “Did I bore you this morning in the stables?” he asked.

  “Oh, hell no.” Little did Nigel realize that she thought of little else throughout the day. Over dinner with his parents, she nearly had to leave the table with the plethora of provocative musings engrained in her mind. “Quite…the opposite.”

  As she wrapped her leg around his waist, January felt Nigel’s lips on her neck, just dusting over the skin and tickling her with the intake of his breath as he took in the scent of her perfume. When he dipped her backward, she thought she just might faint from the heady pull of arousal that swept over her.

  The song played into its last anthemic chorus, and Nigel brought his lips to hers, kissing her as if years had passed since they’d last joined in such a passionate clinch. And January allowed him to take the lead. Circling her mouth with his tongue, he left her feeling dizzy.

  Fingers nearly tearing his shirt, she held him as close as she could. The taste of gin mingled with the fresh mint from her own drink, saturating her last shred of control. His mouth sought to rekindle the thrills that ignited between them that morning. Nigel wanted her to pant with the same need that emanated when he held a crop above her ass.

  Neither one seemed to notice as Daft Punk faded into Bruno Mars’ “Locked Out of Heaven.”

  When at last Nigel dared to tip his head backward, January gripped his strong forearms for strength.

  “You’re a damn good dancer…” she whispered.

  “And you kept up nicely,” he murmured as he placed one tiny kiss on the top of her head just to tempt her.

  “Another dance?”

  “I must use the loo first…”

  However, Xavier waited with two new drinks right on the dance floor’s edge. “Here. You have earned these.”

  “Cheers!” She tapped her glass to Nigel’s.

  “Cheers to you, lovely lady.”

  After they’d guzzled their drinks, concocted with double-shots, Nigel minded her with suggestive eyes. “So now what?”

  “I need…some air…?”

  “After I use the loo.”

  Waving her fingers in the air, she said, “I’ll be waiting.”

  “You slutty, horny mess!” Xavier laughed the second that Nigel turned the corner toward the restrooms. “You’re getting laid tonight. And I just want to call Monsieur Marçeaux and tell him all about it.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, you are such a good girl…” Xavier patted her on the head. “See, sometimes I can switch. I bet you could, too, with him.”

  “Now, Xav, I haven’t determined what his pleasures are yet.”

  “Oh, sacre merde, you have!” Xavier insisted. “Right now, I think he’d do whatever you tell him to do—which could work in your favor in so many good ways!”

  “Well…now, I have to pee,” she said. “Hold my spot for me until I return. And be nice to Nigel.”

  “Oh, I will…” Xavier’s face brightened when he caught Nigel from the corner of his eye, and he waved him over. “Well, you’re quite a dancer.”

  Grateful for the darkness, Nigel hoped Xavier couldn’t see his blush. “January’s quite good, too.”

  “Give her a crack on the ass, and she will do anything for you, my friend,” Xavier said with a fist bump. “Trust me…”

  Clearly uncomfortable, Nigel nearly danced in his spot, as if he hadn’t yet been to the bathroom. And then he raised a suspicious brow. “Wait…Xavier…” he began. “Have you…shagged her?”

  Xavier nearly spit his martini. “No!” The look of horror on his face assured Nigel that he was telling the truth. “Oh, mon Dieu! No. I like…boys.”

  Relief flooded Nigel’s face. “Oh, good. I mean…that’s what I thought. I mean…not that you’re…oh, blimey. I mean…you could like…both…or…”

  “It’s okay.” Xavier patted Nigel on the back. “I understand.”

  “I mean…well…I know what she likes. She told me. In fact, she showed me in the stables this morning, but—”

  Xavier could now hear the booze talking, straight from Nigel’s kiss-stained lips. “That’s enough!” This poor boy couldn’t hold his liquor. “I do not need to hear more.”

  After all, January would just tell him later.

  “Alright…” Nigel still looked so uncomfortable, bordering on misery. “That’s fine.”

  “Just know, I got your back here, my friend. I got you…”

  And Nigel was in no mood to stick around once January found her way back to them. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Well, someone is in a hurry. I like that.”

  Once they stepped outside, January continued to sing the chorus of “Get Lucky” over and over…and much to Nigel’s discomfort.

  “Will you stop it, dammit, please, January?” he shouted suddenly. However, his uncharacteristic shift in mood only sharpened her senses. “I must take a fucking piss. And it hurts.”

  Stopping suddenly, she scuffed her spike on a cobblestone. “You just peed!”

  “The hell I did!” Turning away in chagrin, he pulled at the waist of his jeans to make some adjustments.

  “Wh
at do you mean?”

  “I…alright. A man was standing next to me, and he was looking. Do you understand?”

  Covering her lips to smother her soft giggle, she nodded. “You got pee-shy?”

  Now, Nigel meant business and cupped his balls with his hands. “Must we stand here and bloody discuss it? I need to find a loo—right now!”

  “What about behind that tree over there?”

  “I can’t just piss on a tree like a dog! What…what if there’s a cop around? I live here. I don’t want people to think that I just go around getting soused at the clubs and pissing everywhere!”

  “Alright, alright.” She took his hand and continued down the block. “We’re gonna do what I always do in New York. We’re going to find a hotel.”

  “A hotel?”

  “The lobbies always have clean bathrooms,” she explained. “Remember that—the next time you’re in New York.”

  The short streets seemed to stretch into eternity as they stomped along in the darkness. All the while, Nigel grunted and groaned with every step.

  “Do you make those sounds in bed, too?” she wondered out loud.

  “Please, stop it. This is urgent. And there’s not a damn hotel in sight. It’s all residential! And I won’t go knocking on doors. Especially not at this hour.”

  “Let’s turn on the main street at the corner. I’m sure we’ll find something.” However, her attempt to comfort him did nothing. She could never understand the concept of being so proper that he couldn’t just pee anywhere. Maybe it was the norm of her youth, releasing her bladder in the fields, but she always found that where there was a will, there was a way.

  “Look!” She pointed suddenly to the bright Hotel Mercure sign. And January just sauntered into the lobby like she owned the place.

  The French chain hotel was the equivalent of a Holiday Inn, with a modern but simple reception lounge. She made her best attempt at using her French by inquiring with the night manager. Within moments, she delivered Nigel down a dark hallway to the unisex restroom.

  Nigel rushed in and slammed the door, but January couldn’t resist one last tease as she waited. “If you’re not out in two minutes, I’m coming in after you…”