SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  “She’s a good kid—and she’s going to be fine.” January felt as if she had to justify Lucie’s behavior now in preparation for the curious teenager that her niece was about to become.

  “So, maybe we’ll bring her with us over Christmas…you know, to Paris…”

  January sat back and nearly tipped her glass. She wished the Gallimore men would stop dropping bombshells in her lap as she tried to enjoy her brother’s wine. “Wha-at?”

  “I talked to Mom last night,” Ed said slowly. “You came to visit us, and I think it’s only right we return that favor. We’ll have a little Gallimore reunion. Mom, me and Lucie—if her parents will allow her. And I bet Charlie would love to go…”

  However, she just didn’t believe the words as they fell from her father’s lips. “Daddy, are you serious?”

  “Now, you have to promise you’ll come get us at the airport and that you won’t leave us alone,” he warned. “Never been to a big city like Paris. And your mother’s worried about speaking French…”

  With a pull to his hand, January said, “I think I can get you around…”

  “We’d like to meet this Nigel, too, if he’s still in the picture.” Ed knew his daughter didn’t always necessarily keep her relationships for very long. Etienne was the unfortunate exception.

  “Well, I have to talk to him, but hopefully, that can be arranged.” She still hadn’t given Nigel a final answer. For all she knew, he could have been keeping another girlfriend on the side. January didn’t want to think that way, but she had to be real with herself. She’d left him hanging, and she couldn’t’ expect him to just sit around while she figured her life out.

  “You know, Jan, I know we’ve had our differences over the years…” Ed continued. She hadn’t anticipated having this conversation with her father—not that night…and perhaps maybe never. “I should have said this over the years, but I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you. Maybe we don’t understand the choices you’ve made, but we still all love you, and we always welcome you home…”

  “Oh…Daddy…”

  “Now, none of that crying…January…oh!” When she jumped into his lap just as she did when she was a little girl, Ed didn’t flinch. For once, he embraced her. “Why, though, Jan? Why did you stay away so long? Was it really for a man?”

  Now, she couldn’t stop crying, and the tears poured all over the front of Ed’s flannel shirt. “Yes and no.” January wanted full honesty with her father now. “Yeah, I was busy with Etienne and my career, but I felt so out of place here.”

  “What’s changed so that you don’t feel out of place now?”

  “A lot has changed, Daddy. A whole lot. On both sides.”

  As an autumn sun set over Gallimore Farm, January clung to her father, unsure how she could possibly let him go.

  “I love you, Jan.” His sentiment brimmed with certainty. “I love you a heck of a lot.”

  “And I love you, Daddy…”

  “Oh, now come on!” Charlie’s voice boomed from the open French doors. “You’re crying again? And…oh, shit…Dad’s crying, too?”

  Waving his arm almost violently, Ed grumbled as he wiped at his tears. “Will you shush? I don’t want the whole family to know…”

  When he noticed the bottle of wine on the table, Charlie froze in his tracks and turned to January. That enigmatic smile on her face revealed nothing, but she nudged their father to speak up.

  “This isn’t what I expected, Charlie,” Ed said at last. “But I like this Gallimore wine more with each sip.”

  A slow smile formed on Charlie’s lips. Again, January worked her charms. Even now, she still had a way with their dear old dad.

  “Well, can I get in there, too?” Charlie said and shoved his way in between his sister and father for a hug. “Hate it when women cry…”

  “You made me cry, too!” January reminded him.

  “Yeah, and I’m gonna miss you, Sis.”

  “Oh, you’ll see her again for Christmas on our trip to Paris,” Ed said with an air of nonchalance that January hadn’t expected.

  “What?” Charlie raised his voice. “Who are you, and what did you do with our father?”

  “Mom and I are going to Paris for Christmas, and we’re thinking of taking Lucie,” Ed explained. “I thought you might want to go, too, and visit with your sister.”

  As if he had to confirm his father’s words, he looked at January again. Her nod assured Charlie that Ed was indeed serious. “I might not come home…”

  January nudged her brother. “You’ll get your own apartment…”

  “Alright now…get up, Jan,” Ed said, giving his daughter a gentle push. “Your mother made a feast in there, and you know she gets angry when one of us is late for dinner.”

  The wine continued to flow throughout the meal, and Ed insisted that January sit at the head of the table. All five of the Gallimore children found themselves reminiscing about the summer days and nights of years gone by. Even her nieces and nephews found humor in their tales of life on the farm before technology. January even had to explain what a rotary dial phone was, while her dad attempted to describe a vinyl record player.

  Laughter, though, turned to tears at the end of the night. Lucie truly didn’t want her to leave. As her niece held on to her waist beneath the porchlight while her brother and sister-in-law waited in the car, January held her tight. “I think you’re going to see me sooner than you think.”

  “You promise, Aunt Jan?” Lucie asked as she mopped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

  “Oh, Lu!” Charlie said as he scooted her along and down the steps. “Not you, too, with the crying! Men don’t like it!”

  “Lucie, I promise!” January shouted out. “And we’ll Facetime when I get to Paris.”

  Once the last car pulled out of the driveway, Charlie joined her on the porch again for one last swing.

  “I don’t know how the hell you did it, but Dad wants a full tour of the vineyard tomorrow after I drop you at the airport,” Charlie said. “This is the first he’s taken any interest in this whole project.”

  “Well, I think it’s a good idea, and I think you’ll do well with it,” January said. “Besides, how many other Kansas vineyards have a celebrity spokesperson?”

  “Those photos were fabulous!” Charlie told her. “And Don liked you, too.”

  “I don’t think I’m the only Gallimore that he likes…”

  “Yeah…” he shrugged. “We’ll see…”

  “You know you’re my favorite brother,” she told him.

  “And you’re my favorite sister…”

  Again, they kept Ed and Aurora up while they continued to laugh from their favorite spot on that swing. January did cut their evening short at midnight since they had a long drive ahead of them in the morning. With a reminder to Charlie to lock up before he took off for home, she climbed those stairs one more time, but she knew it wouldn’t be her last.

  That night, she fell into a restful sleep as she stared up at the ceiling looking at a poster of a very young Justin Timberlake. Peaceful memories of bygone days filled her thoughts, and a sense of rejuvenation filled her soul.

  Now, she knew exactly what she needed to do, and January awakened with the certainty that she could indeed conquer the world once again, one small step at a time.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Oh, do I have a surprise for you today!”

  One little detail, of which January had not been made aware, was the fact that Nigel had continued his training.

  Since she left, he vowed to learn all the nuances of becoming her Dominant partner. Scholar that he was, Nigel immersed himself in the language and form of BDSM. By summer’s end, he could recite the Kama Sutra from cover to cover, and his email inbox was loaded with daily newsletters from every sex toy company that would deliver to Provence. He’d poured through the works of the Marquis de Sade and devoured The Story of O. Somehow, he justified his need to read kink by sticking with the
classics.

  All of his studying was done behind the closed, locked door of his cottage, and he took care to hide all of his sexual paraphernalia before Lawrence and Clarissa visited, which they often did to spend time with Lenny.

  However, Nigel’s exploration of BDSM just didn’t stop with his academic studies of the practice. Oh, no. Nigel knew that if he wanted to wield a whip across the ass of the world’s most famous submissive, he needed hands-on experience, so he took it upon himself to hone his techniques with an expert.

  Covering his face with huge Jacqueline Bouvier glasses, Xavier said, “Oh, I feel so filthy doing this every time we meet. But it’s kind of sexy, too…”

  “Xavier, please…” Exasperated already, Nigel had just picked up January’s best friend at the Avignon train station. “You must be discreet.”

  “Are you ever going to tell January?” Xavier asked suddenly.

  “Of course, I am!” Nigel insisted as he pulled into the late-afternoon traffic.

  “You promise you will tell her that I taught you everything you needed to know?”

  “Yes, I will.” Honesty was Nigel’s double-edged sword. He couldn’t hide the truth, even if he knew it might damage a relationship. However, this effort was completely an altruistic one. He was doing this for January. “I do, though, want to wow her before I reveal my teacher.”

  “Oh, alright…” Xavier pouted. “I wish I could be there when you tell her—just to see her face.”

  “I’m sure it will be legendary.”

  Throughout the summer, Xavier had traveled to visit with Nigel—and his friends at Esclave Bar—and during those weekends in Provence, Xavier worked to school Nigel on how to be a Dom.

  Of course, they never engaged in any sexual behavior with each other. Xavier served as Nigel’s coach, finessing his lessons with practical information on BDSM—and on January. In fact, Xavier made sure he covered every kinky fantasy she’d ever voiced to him.

  Ultimately, Xavier just wanted to see January happy again. He knew that Nigel was the love of her life, even if she wouldn’t admit that out loud yet. Xavier simply wanted to make sure that Nigel had all the necessary tools to convince her that he was her next, and hopefully forever, Dom.

  “Now, Dommy, I have a full schedule planned for you,” Xavier babbled. “We are going to work on how to tie down Janvier, and then juice her up!”

  One crimson splotch at a time emerged on Nigel’s face and neck as he drove on. While he appreciated Xavier’s time, Nigel just wished they didn’t have to discuss these things in detail outside of his lessons.

  “You know what I’m going to punish her for first?” Nigel groused. “For telling you that she calls me ‘Dommy.’”

  Xavier’s wicked cackle nearly froze Nigel to the bone. He wondered what other details of their sexual escapades January revealed to her best friend.

  “Are you not curious about tonight?” Xavier pressed him.

  “No…and yes…I mean…”

  Flicking Nigel’s arm with the pluck of his finger, Xavier coughed. “What have we learned about being assertive.”

  Forcing himself into the essence of the evening, Nigel puffed his chest. “Oh, I can’t wait to discover new means of torture for that woman…”

  “That, mon ami, is the spirit!” The strength of Xavier’s pat on the back made Nigel wince. “Now, on to Esclave for our first meeting.”

  “Esclave?” Nigel repeated. “Isn’t it a bit early?”

  “We’re not exactly going for Happy Hour!”

  Only for January would Nigel endure such rigorous tutelage. He almost felt like he was pledging some sort of fraternal organization, where members were expected to make fools of themselves before swearing allegiance.

  Much to Nigel’s surprise, the bar was already packed when they arrived, but Xavier made such good friends with the owner that he’d earned his own table, right by the stage. Esclave was known for its theatrics, and on any given night, someone was performing within its dark, smoke-filled rooms.

  Little did Nigel realize that Xavier had another diversion in store at the table.

  A geisha, of sorts, sat at central command, with a triple shot of neat vodka in one hand and a lit Camel cigarette in the other. Her smile seemed wicked—almost rueful—to Nigel as her enigmatic brown eyes surveyed him from head-to-toe. An ambiance of chilly detachment cloaked her while she puffed away, always blowing perfect concentric circles into the heady air.

  Beneath the coiffed curls of her wig, thick coats of porcelain pancake makeup and layers of hand-embroidered silk that fashioned her bright red kimono, the wrinkles and scars of a life lived on the edge bore through.

  And on second inspection, Nigel realized that under the paint and fabric sat another man in drag.

  However, Lady Komodo wasn’t just another drag queen. She was Luis Rodriguez, a virtuoso of the international drag sect. Born and raised in the Bronx, Luis worked three jobs to put himself through college, and after spending time abroad during his junior year, he never returned home. In fact, his travels throughout Japan—where he carried nothing with him but a backpack and a young man named Natsuo—that Lady Komodo was born.

  “Nigel, meet Lady K…”

  A hand slammed down on the old wobbly table, knocking cigarette ashes all over the nicked surface. “That is Lady Komodo to you…” While she tried to emulate the tough exterior of a Samurai, her New York accent filtered through with every word.

  “Bloody hell…” Nigel hissed as he turned away. “What have you gotten me into now?”

  “You wanted to learn how to tie our Janvier up!” Xavier reminded him. “She’s giving a performance tonight, and she’ll be teaching us all the fine art of Japanese bondage. Lady Komodo is well known for her Dominatrix skills. Now, don’t be so ungrateful. I only set you up with the best in the field.”

  Nigel, though, felt like he was an extra in a really bad musical comedy in which Kinky Boots met M. Butterfly. “I don’t believe I am about to engage in lessons of restraint with a drag geisha.”

  “Believe it, Nigel. And sit down. We are all in for a bumpy night. Cocktail?”

  “I have to drive!”

  Slumping his shoulders, Xavier plunked down in the chair next to Lady Komodo. “You are no fun, Dommy.”

  With great reluctance, Nigel took a seat next to Xavier and waited for the next round of torture. Perhaps, he reasoned, that a Dom had to do a little suffering himself before he could properly train his own submissive. If that were the case, January would become the best fucking bottom on this side of the Atlantic.

  Nigel swore that Lady Komodo sucked on an entire pack of cigarettes right before their eyes. What shocked him, though, was the fact that he almost asked her for one. Once the club’s owner finally introduced her interactive class, she disappeared to the stage in a cloud of smoke.

  Thus, Lady Komodo commenced her lesson on the art of Japanese bondage.

  Admittedly, Nigel found her amusing. Even with the help of a French translator, she was quite funny, constantly berating her slave boy, who always worked alongside her. This event must have been a big deal in gay circles because most people in the audience actually brought rope to practice on their partners during the lesson. Xavier carried his own stash, but Nigel refused to be his test dummy.

  However, Nigel engrossed himself in her little show. As if she were catering toward his love of academics, Lady Komodo detailed the history of Japanese bondage.

  Most Westerners, she noted, confused the terminology. Kinbaku was the technique most applied to BDSM in which intricate knots were created specifically to restrain in the throes of sexual play. Using the phrase Kinbaku also implied a soulful union between Dominant and submissive.

  According to Lady Komodo, Americans often referred to Japanese bondage as Shibori, which did involve knot-tying, but for a very different purpose. It was the ancient forerunner to the tie-dying method of color variations in cloth. Shibari, on the other hand, could imply sexual connotation,
but the knots were mostly utilized for decorative purposes.

  Thinking of January, Nigel paid closest attention to the workings of Kinbaku. For his purposes, he had to learn how to properly tie her up without hurting her. Lady Komodo did remind her students, though, to make sure they always had a pair of sturdy scissors on hand—just in case.

  On information overload, Nigel wished he would have brought a notebook.

  Looking around, he noticed that the audience actually engaged. Several clubgoers were bound at the arms or legs. He imagined that this place would turn into orgy central after a few more rounds of drinks. He hoped that Xavier would be ready to leave as soon as this crazy, yet intriguing show was over.

  As if Nigel didn’t already feel demoralized, Lady Komodo pointed directly at him from the stage. “You, Blondie. You get up here. Now!” From the folds of her kimono, she pulled out a flogger and sliced it through the air. “I said now, or you’ll get a beating…”

  Xavier laughed in Nigel’s ear as he patted him on the back. “She wants you, Dommy. You better run…”

  “Maybe she’s pointing at you.”

  “She called for Blondie,” Xavier reminded him with a shove. “That is not moi…”

  “I can’t just—”

  “Do it, Dommy. Do it for Janvier…”

  For January. That’s why the hell they were here in the first place. Scowling at Xavier, Nigel shuffled over to the stage while an audience of gay men cheered him on. Of course, Lady Komodo cracked his ass with the flogger anyway. The sting of her swat didn’t hurt nearly as much as his wounded pride.

  “You are going to practice on my slave boy here,” Lady Komodo ordered. “I will walk you through, but I want to test what you have learned so far. If you do a job that meets my satisfaction, you win a prize…”

  Taking in an unsteady breath, Nigel forced himself to be calm. He had to forget that people were watching him and judging his skills—or lack thereof. Although he was sure that his hands shook, he took her commands in stride as he got down on the floor to restrain Lady Komodo’s slave.