A Single Girl's Guide to Paris

by Raven Gale

  He slowly nods his head. Walking to the small bar cart, he pours a large drink and slams it down his throat. I can see his head shaking from here. I feel for him. He is a man that is, yes, arrogant but he has reason. He built his business slowly, in the right way. He didn't crush people to reach the top. Instead, reaching the top is a byproduct of him helping people reach their dreams. He has strong convictions and refuses to bend.

  That has angered many people. His speaking out against corruption has led to this day. It's one of the reasons Praesidium Global took him on as a client. We're very picky about who we protect. We all fought to protect people's rights while we were in the military and it's what we do now. We have a reputation, one we have cultivated. Our motto has always been "Serva eos defendere qui possint non" or "defend those who cannot defend themselves," and this family qualifies.

  "Have your wife pack some things. They can't take them with them, but we will get it to them later." I turn to look at the security feed playing on the TV, and I finish. The buzzer rings as a van pulls up to the gate, the logo for a local veterinarian on the side. "Here they come. Have your guards go collect the dog. The van will pull up and block the side of the house from view, my people will get your family in, and my associate will slip into the house to take your wife's place." I follow him to talk to his family, staying out of sight. It is better that those who are stalking them don't see me yet.

  It takes a little bit to get them ready, and as we wait, I watch everyone, wondering if maybe someone let them in last night. Finally, I have the guards carry the dog out to the back of the van, opening the doors wide open, blocking even more of the house from view. The family rushes out and jumps straight into the van, the children sobbing over their dog, the nanny in shock, and the wife ready to fight like a momma bear. It is her reaction that gives me pause. When I first did my research, there was little information about Lizette St Luc, and I figured her to just be another rich wife, but now I know better. She is ready to kill whoever is after them and from some information my tech guy dug up, I understand she is quite possibly the driving force behind her husband's strong stance on corruption.There is something missing from her past that I feel like is very important, but they are very tight lipped about it. Colin, or Bot, my tech guy, is still digging and he is going deep down the hole to find out exactly who she is.

  I had watched them kiss goodbye, and it was passion wrapped up in love, and I felt a pang. I've never felt that for a woman. Passion certainly, hell, I was consumed by it last night, but love, no. My finger caress over the silk material in my pocket, although I don’t know why I brought them with me. Love eludes me. Who am I kidding, I've run from it every time it became a possibility. My first trip to war, I watched love destroy a friend, watched as he turned in on himself. Shit like that can get you killed over there, and she did a real number on him. I didn't need that then and don't need it now. This type of work is hard on relationships.

  The rest of the day is spent trying to find the people that would kill the family dog. True, he was a one hundred and twenty pound Rottweiler, but Oberon had been a teddy bear, the children's playmate. I have no doubt he would have protected them, but he was no guard dog. Anyone searching online could find pictures of him patiently wearing feathers and crowns while the girls played with him. There is a special place in hell for people that hurt animals. I plan to send these fuckers there.

  Even with all that I'm doing, the scent and taste of her takes over my mind time after time. Last night was the stuff of dreams. The sounds she made as she came is burnt into my memories. I'm getting hard just imagining them. I have her nail marks criss crossing my back, and I love the sting I feel as I move. I didn't push her last night, but I did make her forget. My goal for tonight is to make her remember. I want to think of me for a very long time. I hated leaving her in the darkness before dawn, her skin tattooed with my marks of possession. I can see her now, sprawled on her stomach, the sheet barely covering her ass, her long hair a tangled mess. When I moved away from her, she had moaned, and her hand had slid over the sheet seeking my warmth. Willpower was all that got me from the room, that and rage over Oberon's brutal death and the threat to the girls.

  It is late afternoon by the time I make it to the safehouse. The others have helped get the family settled, but I can hear the quiet crying coming from the girl's room. I pause outside it. I want to go in and tell them I will get the people that took Oberon from them but I don't. I don't make promises unless I know I can keep them. Instead, I continue down the hall and open the door to the room where my colleagues have gathered.

  Every head turns when I enter the room. Jacques is sitting before the fireplace, a beer in his hand. "Gaston." I smile still at his callsign. Tall and muscled with black hair, he looks a bit like the character, but it is his hunting skills that earned him the name. Like they say, no one hunts like Gaston, and once he is on your trail, he will kill you. "Thanks for getting them settled." He nods his head once, as he is a man of few words.

  I turn to the rest of the men, each one specialized in his skills. Mac speaks first, "Mercury, who are these bastards and what do they want?"

  "If we knew, our job would be easy, Adder. Bot is working on it," I grumble, running a hand through my hair.

  I move to stand beside the table that is covered with everything we have found so far. Scanning through all the pictures, my eyes pause on the wife.

  "Whatcha thinking? I know that look," Joe's Cajun drawl whispers across the table. His callsign is Magic, because he often knows things before anyone else, and because his great grandmere was a voodoo priestess famous in the bayou.

  "I don't know. Just something has my gut churning about her."

  Jacques slowly rises from his seat and stands, studying her photo. "Bot can't find much on her," I observe. Everyone's eyes are suddenly locked on the woman's picture. "Knight, did you get any feelings about her as you brought them here?"

  Nick's face is blank as he ponders my question and I know he is going over every second of the trip to the safe house. His mind is like a supercomputer, processing information at an incredible speed. Hyperthymesia is the medical term; he remembers everything he sees and he sees everything.

  "She seems level, upset but calmer than a mom would be maybe. The nanny was more upset." He's matter of fact when he gives us the information. Jacques walks silently from the room. Mac moves to the bank of security monitors, adjusting the feeds until she comes into view. We all stand and watch for a while.

  "Keep an eye on her. I'm going to head back to the hotel. You guys split the duty. You choose whose staying and who's going to be here in the morning." I turn on my heel, looking down at my watch.

  "Hot date?" Travis calls out his New York accent strong with his humor. I pause. They know me well. If I ignore them, it will be like blood in the water.

  "Maybe." I chuckle as I walk out, Ember filling my mind, moving from the outer edges where she played all day. I'm still smiling when I walk into the hotel. I realize I hadn't told her my room number. I stop at the front desk and write her a note. It simply says 412. My room isn't as nice as hers, but then, the hotel isn't paying for mine. It does have a large bed and a sofa that has been playing key roles in the fantasies that played through my imagination all day. I leave it for her and head to the elevators. Images of her bowed back against the mirror in it has my dick getting hard. I glance at my watch as I adjust myself and realize I still have four hours until she might arrive. Might. No, she will show up.

  Chapter 12

  I barely make it to my lunch. I'm so excited it is at, or rather on, Bustronome. I get to ride around the city in a glass bus while I eat. I have a little table, and as the bus travels through old and historic areas, I see some of the most amazing sights. I check in and climb up the steps, standing a tad impatiently as I wait to be seated. As the girl leads me to my table, I realize once again the hotel made sure I got the best treatment. It had been touted as the best gourmet tour by the hotel and the
porter. The porter thought it would be nice, since I'm alone and it's a safe way to see much of the city. I smile at the sweet thought. My mom would love him for that alone. The hotel thought I'd enjoy the cuisine. They both are right. I travel by myself all the time, and mostly I feel safe. But every once in awhile, I find myself looking around and wishing I had someone with me.

  I take some pictures and look around, loving the whole idea of this adventure. I'm lost in my thoughts of what I'm going to write on my blog when I hear a quiet young voice at my shoulder.

  "Hello. If you don't mind, we selected some of our favorite dishes for you." Her sweet face says she's very worried I'm going to mind.

  I grin, "I love it. I love food, and I can eat more than you might think. Send me whatever you want. PS...," I whisper and crook my finger at her to get her to come closer. "I adore desserts the most."

  She giggles and straightens, winking at me she whispers back, "I'll see what I can do." Her shoulders relax as she glides away. Hopefully, I have helped with public relations for my fellow countrymen. Grinning, I look around at the other people on the bus, couples and friends, lovers and loves of their lives all smiling and chatting. For a moment, I'm lonely. But I shake it off as my server reappears with my wine. She pours it and then moves on to the other tables.

  I raise my glass and take a picture of it with the view in the background.

  "Do you want me to take one of you?" I look over to the the elder woman smiling at me, her husband looking at her with love shining in his eyes.

  "Do you mind? I write a travel blog, and I never have any picture of me... Well, traveling." I laugh, handing her my phone. Picking up the glass, I lean on my table slightly and smile. She reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair that has gotten free behind my ear, just as my Granny used to do. I smile, missing my grandmother.

  She does the countdown and then snaps the picture. We chat while the bus starts moving. I find out they have come to Paris for their fiftieth anniversary. They have saved for many years, and their kids had bought their tickets. I watch her husband as she speaks and his face is lit up with joy. Someday, I want that. We fall silent as our food is brought, and my eyes are drawn outside as we glide by the Louvre. I had been there my first day, but the pyramid causes my breath to catch it is so beautiful. By the end, we have seen almost every famous landmark: the Eiffel Tower, Opera Garnier, Musée d'Orsay, Notre Dame, and the Champs-Elysées.

  It is late afternoon when we finally return to our starting point. I'm stuffed, having had a second dessert and, I suspect, slightly larger portions than the other guests. I'm not going to complain; it is one of the perks of this gig. I had sipped a glass of whiskey after dessert. Not really my thing but it reminded me of him, of the taste of him. The couple beside me have decided they are going to do a dinner tomorrow and see the city all lit up and glowing in its brilliance. I wish I had the time, but maybe next time I come here because I am coming back. I thank my server, gushing over everything and earn a blush and a grin. I snap her picture and tell her I'll put her on the blog. Before I climb off the bus, I compliment the chef. The duck had been glorious, melting in my mouth. I step off the bus into the afternoon sunshine and stroll a little way away from the bus and those getting off. I hail a cab, and just as I get in, I wave at the couple as they stand looking at a map.

  Once inside, I tell the driver that I need to go to Auteuil Greenhouses and Botanical Gardens. Nodding, he pulls out in traffic, and we speed to our destination. I always make time to visit gardens, no matter where I travel. Granny had won yard of the month more times than anyone in our town. She spent countless hour planting, pruning, and tending her garden of flowers, and often I was by her side. It is the only thing I hate about living in the city. I long for a garden of flowers with butterflies floating on a breeze. I love the scent of tea roses and the exotic images that orchids evoke. I love what would be considered vintage flowers. Give me gladiolus and irises. Black Eyed Susans and daisies of every color lined the side fence of her yard, and those beds were my responsibility. I miss them, those bright little flowers that she knew I couldn't kill. I pay at the entrance and begin my slow stroll through the gardens, making my way through the lush green of the trees and grass to the enormous greenhouses.

  Each is a different ecosystem, and I lose myself in each region, letting my imagination run wild. I picture vacations in each one. I'm aggravated that Carter keeps worming his way into each daydream. Sex in a desert, on a tropical beach, beneath massive oaks. But my mind creates something extraordinary in the orchid house. It is dark and sultry, and I feel my body respond. My core clenches and my nipples peak. I am lost in his arms when the patter of small feet jerk me back to reality. I feel my face heat and glance up as a small boy races by with an apologetic mother racing after him. I look around and realize I have been standing here for some time. Glancing at my watch, I realize it is almost seven and looking up, I realize the sun is setting. Time to go. I walk briskly to the exit, smile plastered on my face and shaking my head ever so often. I'm lost in my thoughts of tonight when the driver pulls up to the hotel and clears his throat.

  "Sorry." I smile and hand him the fare and his tip before climbing out. I walk slowly into the hotel and head straight to my room. I take the stairs. I can't go into the elevator. I need to calm down some. I need to not fall for this man that I can't have more than a few hours tonight. I climb the stairs slowly, angry that I want more from him. More nights. More of his heat. I want to explore his desire and let it awaken something in me. Once in my room, I fling myself on the bed and then call Valerie. She knows me, and yes, she will want details of last night, and I'll give them to her because I know she will lock them away. At the same time, she will help me navigate these waters, so I don't get lost in the sea of my desires. She answers on the second ring, excitement rings in her voice.

  "WELL?"

  I don't even pretend. I spend the next thirty minutes going into explicit detail of my evening. She is laughing and gasping throughout. I finish and then say, "He asked me to his room tonight."

  "OMG, you're going right?"

  "Well I planned on it, but then I got to thinking."

  "Stop," she interrupts. "Stop thinking and just do. I know you. You're worried you are going to fall for this guy, and maybe you will a little, but you need more than great, mind blowing sex. So... Even if your heart reaches for him, you will be fine. You might long for his dick, but you're not going to go all Bella and stare out a window, comatose for months over some guy because he gives you life changing orgasms. Use him and find out what you've been missing, and then when you find the one, teach him everything Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick has shown you."

  I look at the note in my hand, letting her talk me into it. Shit, his room number isn't down here. I'm just about to tell her when a knock at the door stops me. "Val, I've gotta go someone's at the door." I hang up to her ooooing in the background. My heart is pounding at the thought that he might be on the other side.

  I slowly open the door to find a bellhop. I let out a sigh trying not to be disappointed. "Miss, this was left for you." I look down at the envelope he is holding. My fingers tremble as I reach for it. I smile at him as I take it.

  "Merci," I say as he nods and turns away. I close the door slowly. I sit on the couch and look at the envelope before opening it. There is a card in it with the number 412 in his masculine handwriting.

  My heart is pounding, and my body tingles at the thought of his hands on me. Each little love bite throbs in response to those three numbers. This is so bad. Addicts can get hooked after one hit of a drug, and I understand now that the detox from this man and his body is going to be a long process.

  I glance at the clock -- two hours until nine. I begin to slowly undress and walk naked to the bathroom. I reach in, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the room. I walk back out and grab my phone, wanting some music. A small smile curves my lips when I'm on Fire by AWOLNATION starts to play. I glide under the water, body undul
ating to the beat, eyes closed. I let the hot water cascade over my head, face upturned, lost in the music. Song after song plays as my body grows more and more excited at the prospect of tonight in his arms. The water licks over my already sensitive skin, and I finally reach for the soap. I suddenly want to be finished, so I wash quickly and turn the water off. My skin is flushed from the heat and my thoughts, my nipples are taut, and my pussy keeps clenching in need. Wrapping the towel around me, I move in front of the mirror and swipe the steam from it to stare at my face. The woman staring back is one that knows what she is craving and plans on getting it.

  I stretch out on the bed, letting the cool air dry my heated skin. My hand drift down to touch myself, finger running through the moisture I knew was there. I'm tempted but decide to wait to let the anticipation build. One last feather light rub and I shiver with need. Reaching for my coconut oil, I smooth it over every inch of my skin, reveling in the satin like feel of my skin. Everything is heightened. I close my eyes and draw in a shaky breath. I am both excited and frightened by my growing desires.

  I draw in deep calming breaths, slowing my racing pulse. Turning my head slowly, I peer at the clock and realize more time has passed than I thought. Pushing up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a moment, thinking of what to wear. Rising, I walk into the bathroom and run my brush through my still damp hair before twisting it up and clipping it. I let pieces fall free and frame my face. My makeup is minimal: a little smoky eyeliner, mascara, and some dark pink gloss. A quick coat of powder and I'm finished.

  I stand in front of my clothes, unsure of what to wear. Just a coat crosses my mind but Granny always said it's more fun to unwrap a present, so I grab my black lace bra and panties. The balconette bra barely covers my nipples, and the panties sit low on my hips. Pulling out the long green skirt, I slide it up over my hips, letting it ride low. Then reaching in, I select the loose sheer black shirt and slip it over my head, my bra showing through just enough. That's it, I'm ready. I slip my feet in to my flip flops and look at the clock... Just in time. Grabbing the keys, I pause at my door to steady my nerves. It's now or never, and never isn't an option. At the elevator, I push the down button and wait impatiently for the doors to open. When they do, a couple is inside, and I smile at them before pushing the four button, my finger trembling a tiny bit. It's hard having an idea of what you want but not knowing if it's what you need. All too soon or not soon enough, the doors open at four and I step off. I glide down the hall, trying to rein in my desires. When I reach the door, I stand frozen for a moment before I straighten my shoulders and knock gently but firmly on his door.