by Bea Paige
“Thank you,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
“That’s quite alright, Miss Budd. Have fun with the ski instructors and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winks, handing me back my passport.
A few minutes later I am through the security check and heading towards Costa in the departure lounge. There is a separate sign showing the way to the business class area, but I don’t bother following it. Instead, I make myself comfortable with my latte, muffin and Cosmopolitan magazine and before long it’s time to board.
“Welcome on board. Your seat is through here and to the right,” the air stewardess says politely.
“Thanks.” I take my ticket from her and search for my seat. Business class is separated by a curtain partition and I can see that the seats in this section of the plane are roomier than the standard ones. I have a window seat rather than an aisle, and I’m glad because I can’t wait to look out of the window to view the scenery. After storing my coat and handbag in the overhead compartment, I sit down.
“Jesus, Max, can you not give it a rest for one minute?”
I look up to see a ridiculously handsome man with short, dark brown hair and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen stop at the end of the row I’m sitting in. He’s talking to a blonde-haired guy who is taking a seat in the row opposite.
“Never, man. Why would I? You saw the way she looked at me. Looks like I’ll be joining the mile-high club today,” Blondie says, chuckling.
“Leave him alone, Hudson,” another guy says as he smacks green-eyes on the back. He’s a huge beast of a man and all the more attractive for it. “You’re only pissed because you didn’t get in there first.”
“As if, Bryce,” green-eyes snorts. “As the eldest, you know as well as I do that I always get first dibs on the ladies. She just wasn’t my type.” He turns his back on the laughing men and opens the overhead locker. Realising it’s full, he opens the next one along and stashes his holdall away. I watch him as he removes his thick, cable-knit sweater, revealing a glimpse of defined stomach muscles covered in a smattering of dark hair. I look away quickly, not wishing to be caught ogling him.
Now that green-eyes is no longer blocking my view, I can get a good look at the other men he boarded with. They don’t look much like brothers to me, but I guess just because you share blood it doesn’t mean you have to be the image of each other. The man-mountain is taller than green-eyes, the other, Blondie, slightly shorter. They both have the same tanned skin like they’ve been on a year-long holiday. Blondie, the one I think they called Max, has dark brown eyes and well-styled hair, long on top and cropped at the sides, whilst the man-mountain has dark black hair pulled back in a bun and is sporting a well-groomed beard. His eyes are hazel. Mountain-man catches me staring and gives me a wink, a sexy smile lingering on his lips.
I look down at my magazine, pretending to read, thankful that my long hair can shield my embarrassment. A moment later, Green-eyes takes a seat next to me. He coughs, and I look up.
“You might want to do that up,” he says, pointing to my lap.
I look down, expecting to see my flies undone, then frown when I don’t understand what he’s talking about. “Sorry?” I say.
He gives me a questioning look then leans over, grabbing a seatbelt I hadn’t noticed until that moment. I press my back into the chair, shocked by his sudden nearness. He smells of expensive aftershave and danger.
“There,” he says, clicking it together. “You’re all strapped in and ready for take-off.”
“You could have just told me,” I snap, pissed that he thinks he can just get into my personal space like that. I don’t know why I react that way. It’s not often you get an attractive man strapping you into a seat, but something about his presumptuousness pisses me off.
He looks at me, eyebrows knotting together as if he didn’t expect that response. Then he shakes himself and holds out his hand. “My name’s Hudson. Those two imbeciles over there are my younger brothers, Max and Bryce,” he says, pointing at them. I glance over, and they are both grinning inanely at us. “Ignore them, they have huge egos. They think they’re God’s gift to women.”
“And you? Do you think you’re God’s gift to women?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Hudson looks at me, the easy smile dropping from his face, replaced instead with something far sexier. “You tell me,” he says.
I look at his ridiculously handsome face and suddenly have the urge to knock him down a peg or two. He is way too cocky for my liking. “I think you and your brothers are very alike. Big egos appear to run in your family, no?”
Hudson’s eyes widen as his brothers laugh loudly. I smile inwardly, feeling I’ve handled the situation pretty well, considering.
For the rest of the flight, Hudson doesn’t bother talking to me again. Instead, he chooses to spend the entire time chatting up another air stewardess. Frankly, I don’t give two shits. After I get off this flight, I won’t be seeing either Hudson or his brothers again.
Chapter Three
“Hey, you must be Louisa. I’m Shawna, pleased to meet you.” A tall girl, about my age, with long brown hair and speckled green and brown eyes, holds out her hand to greet me. I go to shake it, but she pulls me into a hug. “Don’t be silly, we’re not that formal here,” she says, laughing. “Now, where’s your bag? Let’s dump it in the car and get going.”
I watch as she pinches her finger and thumb together, puts them in her mouth and whistles. A minute later a black 4x4 pulls up and a man with bronzed skin and white blonde hair gets out. He looks like he should be surfing on a beach, not here in the below freezing weather of the French Alps.
“This is Pierre, he’s my boyfriend,” Shawna says. She passes him my bag and whispers in my ear, “He’s a dream in bed. Like, super sexy.”
“Bonjour, c’est un plaiser de vous recontre. Bienvenue en France. Je suis votre chauffeur,” Pierre says as he puts my suitcase in the boot of the car. I look at Shawna and grimace.
“I have no idea what he just said.”
Shawna laughs. “Nope, me neither, but isn’t it just so damn hot?” She leans in and gives Pierre a passionate kiss. I look away and take in the scenery about me. The air is crisp, and my breath comes out in smoky puffs. Although the roads are clear, the sidings and rooftops of the nearby buildings are covered in a thick layer of powdery snow. The sky itself is grey and full of heavy billowing clouds. In the distance, I can see the white peaks of mountains and wonder whether that’s where we are heading.
“We’re due to get some snow later today, so we’d better get a move on if we don’t want to get stuck in it. Pierre’s a great ski instructor but driving, not so much,” Shawna says, pulling a face.
“How long will it take to get to the resort?” I ask as I slide into the back of the car. Shawna climbs in next to me whilst Pierre starts the engine.
“An hour or so with Pierre’s driving. He’s a bit of a speed freak. Plus, he wants to get back for après-ski.”
“What’s après-ski?” I ask, clicking my seat belt in. For a second I am reminded of Green-eyes, and how he took it upon himself to strap me in on the plane. Now that I think about it, his behaviour was really bloody cocky. He’s the type of bloke who always has a stream of lovers at his beck and call, and entirely the kind of man I avoid like the plague. Thank fuck he and his brothers went on their merry way somewhere else. Pushing thoughts of the three brothers aside I turn to Shawna, waiting for her answer.
“You don’t know what après-ski is?” Shawna’s mouth drops open, and she gives me a ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ look. “It’s only the best part of the day. All the instructors, chalet girls, locals, holidaymakers, we all get together and basically party the night away. You must come, I can introduce you to everyone. It’ll be a blast!”
I look at Shawna warily. “Don’t I have to get the chalet ready for the family that’s staying? I mean, I don’t want to mess up on my first night here.”
Pierre pulls
out into the traffic, making a sharp turn onto the connecting motorway.
“Oh, didn’t I say? Your family isn’t arriving until late tomorrow night. Apparently, they’re stopping off in the city before heading to the resort. So, you’re free!” she sings.
I laugh, her enthusiasm is catching. To be honest, I am not much of a drinker; Mum has put me off booze for life, but just the one drink couldn’t hurt. “Alright then, just for a bit,” I say.
“Awesome!”
For the rest of the drive, I sit and listen to Shawna chatter on about life at the resort. She arrived a month ago, met Pierre the first week and, apparently, they have been inseparable ever since.
“I mean, he’s just the most amazing lover, Louisa, huge co-” Shawna spreads her hands wide, pulling a face. I can’t help but giggle.
“When I first saw it I was like, what am I supposed to do with that? Though it didn’t take me long to get used to it!”
I can’t quite believe that Shawna is telling me about her sex life. It’s pretty surreal, given Pierre is sitting in front of us, seemingly ignorant of our conversation. Girls talk about their men, I know that, but not normally right in front of them. I tip my head towards Pierre and pull a face. Shawna laughs.
“Oh, don’t worry about Pierre. His English is a bit on the rusty side. He can converse enough to instruct but otherwise, nope. It’s just as well, really, because we spend most of our time shagging anyway. How about you, any boyfriends back home?”
“Not for a while,” I say. “The last boyfriend I had dropped me as soon as he met my mother. It wasn’t a planned meeting, she just happened to come into the pub we were in one night. A half-arsed attempt at giving my boyfriend a lap dance then puking on his jeans pretty much ended our relationship.”
“Ah, fuck. Your mum’s like that, huh?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Well look, you not having a boyfriend is pretty perfect, actually. You’ll meet loads of hot men at the resort. Just you wait until later. I hope you’ve brought some clubbing outfits.”
I pull a face; getting away from my mother’s grasp had been foremost on my mind, clubbing not so much. My suitcase is packed full of thermal underwear, winter clothes, and thick, woolly jumpers. None of which are suitable for clubbing in.
“Don’t worry about it. I have plenty of stuff you can borrow. Once you’ve unpacked and settled in, I’ll come to yours with a couple of outfits. We can get ready together.”
“Um, okay then,” I say, too polite to decline her offer. I don’t really go clubbing or dress up for that matter. I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl.
“That’s settled then,” Shawna says, unhooking her seat belt and pointing to the front of the car. “You mind?”
“Sure,” I say.
A moment later she’s climbing into the front seat and chatting to Pierre. I am fascinated with how they converse, seeing as neither of them appears to know what the other is saying but are happy in each other’s company, nonetheless. I watch how they keep touching each other as though they cannot bear to be without physical contact. That kind of closeness is completely alien to me. I mean, I’ve had sex before, yes. But frankly, it wasn’t anything to write home about. A quick fumble, then a wham bam, thank you, Ma’am, is about the extent of my sexual experience. Basically, all my previous lovers were dicks who, funnily enough, thought with their dicks. I sigh and spend the rest of the journey watching the scenery roll by as the mountains of Alpe d’Huez loom larger the nearer we get.
It isn’t much longer until we reach the resort. Pierre stops outside a beautiful wooden chalet that’s three times the size of my terrace house back home. We had to drive through the resort to get to it, and it is set back from all the other chalets, which are further down the hill and closer to the centre of the resort. It is surrounded by alpine trees covered in a layer of snow, their branches straining under the weight of it. The chalet has a wraparound porch and large glass windows on the ground floor. There are covered balconies on the upper floors, all of which have a thick layer of snow settled upon them. The nearest chalet is at least five hundred yards away. It is beautiful, secluded, but close enough to the slopes to be in a prime location.
“This is you,” Shawna says, jumping out of the car.
I look up at the chalet in amazement, my breath steaming up the window. Pierre opens the door then holds his arm out, grinning at the stunned look on my face.
“This is where I’ll be staying?” I say, gobsmacked.
Shawna laughs. “Yup, you’ve got the high end of the market. This is a four double-bed chalet with sauna, steam room and pool. It’s stunning. I mean, I’m pretty jealous right about now.”
“There must be some kind of mistake. Why would they give me this chalet? I’m new, I might mess it up.” Worry threads through me at the possibility that I am in over my head. I mean, clearly, whoever has paid to stay in this chalet must have a lot of money and therefore probably has high expectations of their chalet girl. I can cook okay, and clean, but I am no chef.
“Don’t be daft. You just need to make sure you keep the place tidy, cook a good fry up and sort out the evening meal. Come on up,” Shawna says, climbing the steps to the front porch. She points to the case and Pierre picks it up for me. I puff out my cheeks and breathe out slowly, following them through the front door.
The inside of the chalet is just as lovely as the outside and it is as big as I imagined it would be. The whole ground floor is open plan, with a stainless-steel kitchen taking up one side, and a beautifully decorated sitting room with an open fire, a chocolate brown L-shaped sofa and oversized armchair on the other. The warm wood of the kitchen table and chairs complement the wooden walls and floor of the chalet, making the place feel welcoming and cosy.
“Right, well, here you are. Pierre and I are going to shoot off. Your room is in the basement next to the pool. As accommodation goes us chalet girls don’t get anything near as nice as what you’ve got down there. If I were you, I would totally make use of all the good stuff before your family arrives. Oh, and your room has an en-suite. You’ve totally lucked out, girl. Let’s just hope the family you get aren’t arseholes!” Shawna laughs, gives me a brief hug then pulls on Pierre’s hand. “Come on, let’s leave Louisa to settle in.” She turns to me briefly and smiles. “We’re going back to mine for a bit. I’ll be back later, about eight. I’ll bring you something to wear. You look about my size.” She pulls me into a brief hug then leaves, Pierre in tow.
I lean against the door and let the beauty of the chalet sink in. This place just about exceeds all my expectations, and I have a good four hours until Shawna returns. Time to check out the rest of the place. I let out a delighted squeal, all thoughts of home pushed firmly out of my mind.
Chapter Four
I sit in my dressing gown, watching Shawna pull out a variety of skimpy outfits and chuck them on the bed next to me.
“How about this one? I love this dress. I pulled Pierre in it,” she says, holding up what appears to be two silver hankies tied together with string.
“Um, I think I might be a bit cold in that one,” I say diplomatically. Frankly, I would look like a slut, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Despite what she said earlier, I am a little shapelier than her lean figure. Basically, I had tits and an arse, and I’d be falling out all over the place in that skimpy number.
“Hmm, I see what you mean. Although the club gets pretty steamy, you only really need your ski jacket to throw over you until you’re inside. Then you’ll be thanking me for making you wear something like this.”
“What about my legs?” I ask.
“What about your legs?” Shawna laughs. “You’ll get used to the cold, I promise.”
“Sure I will,” I say, not at all convinced.
“So, what are you going to wear then? If you want to pull, thermal underwear and jeans just aren’t going to cut it.” She taps her finger against her cheek, looking thoughtful. “Oh,
I know. How about this t-shirt, and this mini skirt?”
I take my Pink Floyd t-shirt from her and shake my head at the mini skirt. “I’ll wear this t-shirt, with these,” I say, picking up some black, fake leather skinny jeans. They are the only thing she’s brought that is remotely normal looking. “And those,” I say, pointing to my trusty pair of biker boots.
She considers the outfit for a moment. “Well, I suppose it is sexy in a rock-chick kind of way. Hell, why not? But don’t blame me when you turn into a sweaty mess. You have been warned.”
I pull on the clothes whilst Shawna makes herself at home, sniffing my perfume and looking through the small amount of makeup I’ve brought with me. I smudge on some kohl eyeliner to highlight my blue eyes, add a dash of lip gloss and I am done.
“What do you think?” I ask.
Shawna grins. “The boys are going to love you! God, I wished I could pull off a look like that. It totally suits you. You’re like Debbie Harry, although a thousand times better looking.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Before heading to the club, we stop off at Shawna’s place for an hour to have a few glasses of red wine and to pick up a ski pass she forgot to give me earlier. I take it, but don’t tell her that I’m not planning on doing any skiing. I can barely walk on the snow, let alone ski on it.
Another ten, treacherous minutes’ walk later we arrive at Le Carnaval club. It is not dissimilar to the other surrounding buildings, the only defining difference is a large neon sign that flashes red against the wooden façade. Out front is a large seating area where a load of people are congregating, drinking and smoking. Shawna spots Pierre and pulls me along. I try not to fall on my arse in front of the crowd.
“Hey everyone, this is Louisa, she’s staying in the Palace at the top of the hill.”
I hear a chorus of hellos before they all turn back to their conversations.
“Palace?” I ask Shawna, but she’s already gone over to a group of girls and is animatedly chatting away. They laugh, and I wonder whether she is telling them stories about her sex life. They are pretty amusing.