V
Sophie did not have it any easier that night. She had been sure that once she got home, she would hit the bed and be out in an instant. Serving was hard work!
It was, however, better than sewing. She lived with her Aunt Odette, who was a seamstress. Sophie had tried as hard as she could to be a seamstress, too. It bored her to tears. She finally gave up, telling her aunt that she needed more interaction with people.
Serving food seemed like a good way to interact with people. Seeing an advertisement for a server needed at Au Lapin Agile she innocently applied. There were a lot of people there when she arrived, even though it was not the dinner hour yet. Busy meant more money.
Sophie had no way of knowing how rough of a place it could be. The owner almost did not hire her, but she begged him to give her a chance. He finally agreed. He realized, however, that he would never be able to put her in the back room. The men would eat her alive.
She would stay outside during the months that allowed outdoor eating. How the tiny woman would fare inside in the main room, with the lewd singing and hard drinking, time would tell. She probably would not last long enough to worry about it, since she was so little; the trays could get quite heavy. Plus, the men were merciless when it came to teasing and flirting with the servers.
This had been her second night. By the end of it she was exhausted. Sophie fell into bed, assuming that she would soon be drifting in that place of quiet rest that so refreshes both body and spirit. She could not have been more wrong.
Gastien.
Gastien.
Her mind kept lingering over his name. Brown eyes flecked with gold, a hungry mouth, his strong chest against her breasts as his hands caressed her buttocks...Sophie, too, groaned in frustration. She needed her sleep!
Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought of other things. Like the walk back home, how the trees looked at night, how the cobblestones hurt her aching feet; how his brown eyes blazed into her soul, how his body felt as he lowered himself onto her…Merde! He was back in her mind again! Would he never leave her alone?
She wondered what he looked like naked. How large was he?
Stop it, she told herself. What is wrong with you? Gastien was kind enough to defend you! Here you are, paying him back by thinking those kinds of thoughts about him! If he knew that she was interested, he would either laugh or be disgusted.
Sophie cringed. It would be awful to see his reaction if he found out she had imagined that someone with his experience would even kiss her – let alone allow her to see him naked. He would hold as much interest for a virgin in cotton clothes as a cat would for a dip in the river. Gastien would run as fast as he could if he knew she wanted him to…STOP IT!
She tried again to think of other things, but found she could not. So, back to the question, what would he look like naked? Was he hairy? How would his chest taste? His penis; what exactly did it look like? If she held it and rubbed on it, would it hurt him? Oh, oui, she very much wanted to touch him all over.
Next Sophie imagined him touching her down there. Disgusted with herself, she got up and had a glass of water. What in the world made her think so blatantly all of a sudden? She was going to stop right now!
There was no future with him. Even if he was interested, the same fact remained. He was an artist. That was not a future; that was foolishness. Let the rich wives have him! She needed to keep a strong head on her shoulders, so that at some point in her life she would be taken care of.
She went back to bed and managed to sleep fitfully.
Gastien.
Gastien.
All through the night, her brain kept whispering his name.
VI
Gastien was exhausted the next day. He also found that his brain refused to be swayed. Sophie still kept creeping into his mind.
When Cecile arrived at nine o’clock for her portrait, he greeted her warmly, kissing both cheeks.
As he painted her, he found that he kept adding green and yellow to her blue eyes. Once he had even started a wild curl about her neck. Cursing to himself, Gastien removed his mistakes over and over. Cecile noticed and chided him.
“Where is your mind today, Gastien? You don’t seem yourself!”
No response.
“Gastien?”
He jumped.
“Oh! I am sorry, Cecile. My mind was on the painting. What were you saying?”
Gastien looked flustered.
Cecile looked at him a long while. “Are you feeling ill?”
She got up and walked over to him, putting her hand on his forehead. “You don’t feel too warm, so there is no fever. You just don’t seem right today.” She wrapped her arms around him and started to nuzzle his ear. “Perhaps you just need some love, Gastien. Why don’t you close the shutters? I will make sure you get some.”
He did so; then Gastien turned his mouth toward hers. He tried to concentrate on Cecile and the kiss, but all he kept seeing was that hair, those eyes. The thought flashed through his mind that he was kissing the wrong lips. Pushing the thought from his mind, he tried again. Sliding his tongue into Cecile’s mouth he kissed her deeper.
Then he whispered, “Let’s go to bed.”
As they moved across the room to the bed, Gastien realized he was about to do something he had told himself at the sea he would stop doing. He did not want sex with Cecile. That was not fair to her, and it was not fair to him. He turned her to face him.
“Cecile, forgive me, but I just don’t feel like doing this today. It has nothing at all to do with you. I am not feeling well, after all. I am sorry.” He touched her face gently, giving her a sad smile. “Perhaps another time, chèri.”
“You are turning down sex??? “ Cecille was shocked. “Gastien, the world must be ending.” She stepped back. “I do hope I have not caught a sickness from you.”
Gastien smiled. That was Cecile, he thought cynically, always so thoughtful.
“I hope you haven’t either. Can we agree to stop the session? You can return on your next sitting day,” he suggested.
She could not get out fast enough now that she thought him ill.
“Oui. See you then, take care!”
She was gone.
Gastien stood looking at the door for some time after she left. It was nice to know how much he really mattered to the woman! Perhaps that was how little he mattered to all of them.
Ah, well. If he was honest, none of them meant much to him, either. It was great to have a lot of variety in sex partners, but it sure would be nice if someone cared if he was sick or lonely.
He shook his head to clear it. You must be getting soft, he thought. What do you need with someone worrying over you? Be glad you are left alone except for when you want a lover. Who needs the hassle of someone caring?
A voice inside him said “You do”. He quickly silenced it with a deep hit of hashish. He must need sex after all. He was getting overly emotional.
After Cecile left, Gastien tried to work on his own paintings. That went nowhere, because his hand had formed a rebellious partnership with his brain. It only wanted to paint Sophie.
Frustrated, he threw down the brush. Mumbling, he cleaned it and then sat down with a novel. He finally succeeded in getting lost in the story for awhile.
Around half past six, he put the book down. It was almost time to go eat. Gastien decided he would avoid Au Lapin Agile for awhile. That would help get Sophie out of his head. The problem was his amis were there most of the time.
Well, he knew other people. There would be some artists to hang out with at different places.
VII
It was a nice, warm evening. Gastien decked himself out in red and black paisley capris with a peasant shirt he had dyed red. He pinned on a black beret at his usual side angle, way towards the back of his head.
The mirror reflected back a handsome young man who definitely looked interesting. Perhaps he would run into a woman he knew who was out in Montmartre for a lark, husband off to some business
affair.
Mic showed up in the doorway. “Ready, Gaz?”
Oh, good! Mic was going to eat with him. Mic was between love affairs again.
“Oui, I am starved, Mic. Let’s go to that new little place down the street. I am in the mood for their baeckeoffe and some of that crusty bread they serve.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Mic replied. “Have you forgotten? We are all celebrating Pierre’s twenty-fifth birthday tonight. That is why I asked if you were ready.”
“Oh! Oui, I had forgotten. Let’s go for baeckeoffe tomorrow night.” They headed out the door. “By the way, where is the party?”
Mic looked straight ahead. He was afraid he would start laughing if he looked at Gastien.
“Au Lapin Agile,” he said casually.
Gastien said nothing, but he put the hashish he had been going to eat back in his pocket. He wanted a clear head if he was going to Au Lapin Agile. Sophie might be working; he needed to make sure he was at the top of his game. It would be made it clear to everyone that he was not interested in her and had full control of his faculties.
He smiled to himself. She would get one look at him in this outfit and stay away. He was sure she had never seen an outfit quite like this on a man. That should scare her good! They walked in silence awhile.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mic finally asked.
Gastien glanced at Mic; then looked straight ahead.
“Talk about what?” he tried to ask casually.
“Oh, I thought maybe you wanted to talk about the strategic battle plans Napoleon had drawn up during the last stages of the most recent war.”
Gastien gave him a withering look.
“Come on, Gaz. Last night you admitted, sort of, that you were scared. Do you have your mind at peace now?”
Gastien stopped and looked at Mic. “Oui, Mic. I am fine. I think I was just tired. I had actually forgotten about the whole episode last night, until now. Not a big deal.”
Mic stared him down. Gastien looked away first.
“You sure do want to fight it,” Mic observed. “What is so awful about possibly loving somebody? Perhaps you should give it a try.”
Gastien laughed harshly.
“Oh, oui, perhaps I will! When the right woman comes along! Just think of what I have to look forward to: arguing past midnight about why I don’t get a real job, brats in smelly diapers screaming their lungs out while I try to paint…you know, I can hardly wait until that happens! What am I thinking? Who wants freedom and peace when they could have that! I hope she comes along real soon!”
Mic just shook his head. “She already has, Gaz. You are just being too big of an asshole right now to embrace it.”
“So now I am an asshole? What happened to chivalrous all of a sudden?”
“Oui, you are being an asshole. But, don’t worry. Even you can’t stay an asshole forever. I think soon you may wave the white flag and actually open your heart.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Mic sighed. “Let’s just have a truce. I can see this is getting nowhere.”
“Merci,” Gastien spat.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
VIII
When they got to Au Lapin Agile, about two dozen of their amis were already there drinking and eating. Tables had been put together into one long one. The others moved closer, making space for Mic and Gastien.
Glancing around covertly, Gastien did not see Sophie. He was surprised with how his heart sank. Suddenly the evening looked quite bleak. Shaking the feeling off, he sat down.
Just his luck, Phillipe was on one side of him. His chin looked quite sore and bruised.
“Hey, Phillipe, I am sorry I hit you that hard. Truly, I just reacted without thinking. Forgive me.”
Phillipe just shrugged. “Apology accepted. I just hope you are not going to come to the rescue of every server in Montmartre. I will have quite a sore face if you do.”
They both laughed.
“Don’t worry. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…she is so little and was so scared. That is all. Pick on someone who can dish it back, that is all I am asking.”
“Is that all? Really?”
“Oui. Really. Look, she is just a server with less ability than most. I guess I had a soft heart. End of story.”
Phillipe could not help but needle Gastien a bit.
“Well, I am glad to hear that, because she certainly would not be a good match for you.”
Gastien looked perturbed. Deciding not to take the bait, he agreed. “You are quite right about that. Now, damn it, I need a drink! Where is our server anyway?”
Just then Sophie appeared in the doorway, struggling to balance a large tray of food. She stopped for a moment, regained her balance, and was fine – until she saw that Gastien was there. Oh non! Not at her table! The tray wobbled. Gasping, she stopped again. Thankfully, she got it settled. Mon Dieu, she was a twit! She clenched her jaw, making her way to their table.
What in God’s name was he wearing on his head? Oh! A beret. Actually, it looked quite good on him at that angle. Then she noticed his trousers. Or shorts. Or whatever they were! She was puzzled and slightly shocked. Men did not go out in public with their legs bare, even if they were only bare to the calf like that! She had guessed right, though. He was kind of hairy.
And, I’ll be damned, she realized, whatever those trousers are, he manages to make them look sexy! How a man pulled that off she was not sure, but he had done it. As she put down the food, she forced herself to look at Gastien and smile.
“Bonsoir Gastien."
As Gastien met her eyes, he once again felt like the oxygen had left his lungs. What was he supposed to say? Oh, oui. Greet her, you idiot! He cleared his throat.
“Bonsoir Sophie,” he managed.
He tore his eyes away, turning to Mic to bring up something about painting. What, he did not know. Anything.
The table was silent. He felt himself starting to sweat. The heat was rising again on his neck. Near panic, he forced himself to speak.
“So, Mic, what did you think of the new paints you tried today?”
You sound like a dolt, he thought. What paints was he talking about? His eyes pleaded with Mic to help him out.
Mic was looking at him like he was crazy. Finally he said, “Oh! The paints I bought the other day at Père Tanguy’s! Well, I found them to work better than the ones I had been using the past year. I think I will eventually switch over completely.”
Gastien could have kissed him for helping him out.
All of a sudden he heard Sophie say to Mic, “What can I get you?”
She was right there, next to him. He could smell her. She did not smell of fancy perfume, she smelled clean and delicious, like meadows or fresh laundry. Why did he find that so sexy?
Mic smiled at her. “Sophie, my name is Mic. I would like the special for dinner and some absinthe, please.”
Sophie smiled at Mic. “Fine, Mic. I will bring your drink shortly.”
She then turned to Gastien.
“What would you like, Gastien?”
That is a good question, he thought. What exactly would I like from you? He shut his eyes for a second. Nothing. There is nothing I would like from her. Why was everyone so damn quiet?
“I will have the special, too. And I will have a kisskey.”
The whole table burst out laughing. Sophie’s eyes got huge, and she struggled not to laugh at him.
Gastien was horrified. What the foutre was wrong with him? A kisskey for Christ’s sake! Could things get any worse for him here? He was now so red that he probably glowed. Everyone was looking at him. Sweet Jesus, he wanted out of there!
“Whiskey! I meant whiskey. You must think I am incapable of forming a sentence.”
She laughed. “We all make mistakes.”
He could not have meant it after all. She had found out that he was quite a playboy when she had asked around earlier. What Phillipe had said was true. If
he were a woman, he would be labeled a slut. Because he was a man, it was a badge of honor. She only understood that he was out of her league sexually.
“A whiskey it will be. Would you like it straight up?” she asked innocently.
“I imagine he would!” said Luc, chuckling. The whole table laughed knowingly. Gastien glared. Luc feigned innocence. “What? You always drink your whiskey straight up!”
Gastien nodded at her and turned away. The guys gave him a break by starting conversations again.
A few minutes later, Mic and Gastien’s drinks arrived. Sophie lit Mic’s sugar cube on fire, and then sat down Gastien’s drink. She had decided to just pretend he meant nothing to her by teasing him a little bit. What could it hurt?
“There is your whiskey.” Then, she kissed her finger and pressed it to his mouth. “And there is your kisskey, Gastien.”
The men roared.
Gastien did not even care. Her finger on his mouth, it was like the feeling one gets before lightening strikes very close. The hairs on his neck stood up. Mon Dieu, he felt an apprehension so great…then it was as if he no longer sat on firm ground. Falling…it was over in an instant.
Sophie turned to walk away.
Without thinking, he reached out to grab her arm. It startled her, and she spun around.
Her hand hit his glass, tipping his whiskey onto his lap. Oh non! She was such a clumsy ox! That’s what you get for trying to be cute, she scolded herself. Just look what you have done!
Without thinking she cried, “Mon Dieu, forgive me! Here, let me clean it up!”
She grabbed the cloth on her tray, plunging her hand down into his lap. Horrified, she realized what she had now just done. Her hand was against his crotch!
Gastien was red, but she was ten shades redder. She jerked her hand away.
The men just sat there mouths open, mirth in their eyes. Oh, to have this moment caught for eternity!
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