The French Girl and Vino Rosso
She walked in.
The French Girl has chosen a table in the centre of the restaurant, of course, she would she does not want to hide anymore. She wants to be seen and she wants the world to see the Goddess that has just walked in and is going to sit at her table. She wants to see this Goddess as she walks in and she wants to drink her in as she would her glass of Merlot and she does.
She walks in.
She has butterflies in her belly, and they are flying all over inside of her, filling her whole being. She is shining brighter than ever to the point that you can see the white light irradiating through her every pore left exposed and naked. She has chosen her outfit carefully with a lot of care and attention. She knows that The French girl is her biggest critique and her greatest admirer.
The French girl is sitting in the centre of the restaurant at a small table for two. The restaurant is understated elegance with white cloth draped tables, crystal thin glasses that clink at other tables and make her jump from her focus. She is blushing and she can feel the heat coursing through her body from the heart to her extremities and her cheeks, those cheeks that are so attractive. She knew the restaurant would be nice; The French girl has good taste. She can feel all eyes are on her now as she walks in, so she tries to not lose her footing…’Focus, walk straight, do not be intimidated!’ she tells herself.
Harder said then done. The French girl is now watching her intently and she feels like all the other people have disappeared from the room. The other tables have disappeared from the restaurant and all the people with them, there is no sound of clinking glasses or whispers from praying eyes, it is just her. She is watching with her big brown eyes; she cannot be sure if she is undressing her as she walks or if, she is judging her outfit. She should have gone with the red dress that would have given her more confidence.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she reaches the table, and the French Girl stands up to greet her. She is all elegance and class of course her black dress with black stockings, she smells of French expensive perfume that is as sweet as a pink jelly and it transports her to a summer’s evening on a deserted beach with the breeze in her hair…
She kisses her gently on her cheek, taking her hand into hers and all her butterflies are flying out, she is almost expecting to blow everyone away with the explosion of her light!
The French Girl drinks her all in, to the last sip… She is beauty and grace; she shines so bright that she seems to walk in light. She is thinking of that poem by Byron now,
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless clouds and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes…”
She is wearing the pale blue dress that she has bought recently from the online shop she recommended, it falls gently exposing her shoulders, every pore irradiating. Her long legs hugged by the sheer tights and the elegant shoes. She is like a vision from the Cinderella story, the princess walking towards her prince. If she still had the thing between her legs, it would be standing up now. She has dreamed of this moment ever since she saw her on that group on social media, ever since she responded to her message, ever since she saw how beautiful her mind was…the anticipation growing with every minute… She told her straight away that she is irresistible; maybe she should have waited… She hopes that she has not blown it.
She sits down.
The waiter arrives swiftly and helps her settle in her chair, draping a napkin on her knees with a lot of grace and reverence. He offers wine, she accepts the glass of Merlot, although she would much more prefer a cocktail or a glass of champagne to start. But she does not want to impose plus who knows how expensive the drinks are in this place.
As if she reads her mind, the French girl intervenes and ask the waiter for some Cava – some fancy sounding French brand that she has never heard of. Her French accent is superb and sensual, she talks as if she sings the words out. She could never speak French like that, no matter how much practice she would have or maybe the French girl will teach her.
As the waiter disappears, their eyes meet again and trying to avoid each other at the same time. The French girl sees her discomfort and asks, ‘How was your trip?’
‘Oui, tres bien!’ why on earth was she talking French? She blushes again and looks up; Juliette is looking at her with a cheeky smile on her face. She knows how much power she has over her now and Eve wants to roll her eyes but knows that that will be bad manners. Instead, she continues in English, ‘It was fine, just a small delay at the tunnel.’
‘Well, I hope you are not too tired ma pétasse. In any case I have booked a room in the hotel should you wish to stay after dinner?’
‘Oh, that is quite all right, my hotel is not too far from here.’
‘I insist ma pétasse.’ Eve blushes again and she feels her anger rising. Why on earth did she agree to meet this woman in the first place. What was she thinking…?
She replies, stern this time. ‘That is quite all right Antoine, I would prefer to go back to my hotel.’ Juliette’s eyes are growing bigger, she knows that Eve is now trying to bite back for calling her pétasse. She knows that Eve cannot stand that.
‘As you wish my dear Eve.’ She loves it when Eve reacts, her beauty irradiates from every pore and oh, the way she blushes! She could obviously not see this natural phenomenon happening in the pictures. She was mesmerising. Her thoughts are interrupted by the waiter who returns with the cava. ‘Would you like to try it?’
‘Eve, will you do the honours?’
‘Bien sure, merci!’ She lifts the glass and gently takes a sip with such confidence, like a connoisseur. Juliette watches her every move and if it were not for the waiter, she would reach and kiss her red lips right there and then in front of all those people. She was sitting on the edge of her seat now and was ready to do it, but the waiter asks, ‘Are you ready to order?’
‘No!’ Juliette, almost shouts. ‘Deux minute, s’il vous plait’.
‘Bien sure.’
She lets Eve order, although she knows that she will have something unhealthy. She keeps telling her that she needs to look after her body, as if Eve heard her, she downs the glass of champagne in one go to spite her. Juliette offers to pour more champagne, but Eve refuses. ‘I will have a glass of Merlot now please.’
Juliette knows that Eve is only having the glass of Merlot so she can take back control. She smiles and pours the Merlot in Eve’s glass, the waiter notices and almost runs to take the expensive bottle and help Juliette pour in both their glasses.
Eve thinks in her head, ‘What a waste of that champagne! It was an excellent champagne of course. And now she feels sorry for being so stubborn, she hates waste!’
They only ordered one course. Juliette had a salad and Eve ate a full bowl of risotto with truffles after eating all the bread and butter at the table. Juliette wants to leave as soon as possible and hopes that Eve will not order a dessert. She just wants to take her upstairs and make love to her body and mind, like no man could ever love her.
She is distracted from her reverie by Eve asking for the bill when the waiter returns to ask if they would like some dessert. She is pleased and she loves Eve even more now for it.
They pay equally for the bill, although Juliette offered to pay in full as her treat, Eve insists, and Juliette lets her. Plus she has a gift for Eve upstairs all wrapped up in expensive folds of velvety paper. She just wants to get out of here and will not argue with Eve over such a small thing.
They walk towards the door after Juliette left another 50 EUR tip for her favourite waiter. Eve notices, but says nothing...
All eyes are on them as they walk out, and people are still whispering and clinking Crystal glasses of expensive Merlot.
She walks more confidently now, Juliette would love to hold her by her waist, just ever so gently she brushes her hand on Eve’s hip as they take their coats, it is electric for both. They only just manage to exit the hotel and Juliette cannot stand it anymore. She takes Eve’s hand and as Eve turns to protest, she kisses her tentatively on the lips, just one kiss.
To her surprise and delight, Eve responds. It is magnetic, like two pods that belong together coupled in the perfect unison. Juliette whispers, ‘Come upstairs.’ Eve pulls back and she is trying to recollect herself, that was a kiss like no other she had before all the build-up and anticipation exploding in tiny lights touching all her extremities.
‘Antoine, we can’t! Mon père e ton père, Antoine!’
Juliette is smiling, the cruelty of Eve’s words cutting deep into her being. How far will Eve go trying to avoid her love? ‘Cha se impossible!’ she responds.
Eve is walking away in her high heels and she struggles to walk on the cobbled streets, tears in her eyes now.
Juliette wants to run after her, but she is stoned to the ground, she lets her go...again and again. She feels like she is being sucked in a cave full of expensive wine and she cannot claw her away out.
Eve can still feel the kiss of a glass of Merlot on her red lips as she slides into the back seat of a taxi, she cannot look back.
About the Creator
Aurora
“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Dylan Thomas
Pretty much me, not going gently through the world ...
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