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He smiled at her bewilderment. He was speaking in English but with the accent that only an attractive Frenchman could impart.
"Even in France we know about Thomas Cassavettes but we find you, Mrs. Cassavettes, trop plus intéressant."
Her face still remained aloof but there was no doubt about the disturbing effect his presence was having upon her.
"The photographs of you in your wedding dress were, how do you say, an eye opener to French women. To see an English Lady with such a Parisian sense of style was a shock but the press pictures of you at the Ball after the French Open were enough to quicken any man's blood."
She had now forgotten completely about her earlier desire to eat alone and during the rest of the evening his flattery and his close attention made her also forget about the anger at her husband and then at herself.
Was she really having dinner with one of the greatest stars of the European music industry? An experience such as this could not be bought however rich you were.
By this time he was already caressing the palm of her hand as it lay open on the table. They were both leaning forward in intimate conversation and she found herself telling him an edited version of her problems. It was such a relief to pour out her complaints to such a compassionate listener, a man who felt no need to push himself forward and who simply let her talk. What a treat that was. He made her feel attractive and dangerous, a femme fatale on a romantic assignation speeding westwards through the night.
They lingered over coffee and she found herself reluctant to go back to the loneliness of her compartment so when he suggested a nightcap in the bar she agreed with more enthusiasm than was perhaps wise.
Ensconced in a snug banquette with balloons of Armanac on the table before them she found her thigh and arm were pleasantly pressed against this disturbing man. She became intoxicated by his close proximity, so much so that when they got up to leave she confided the number of her sleeping compartment.
Will he, wont he? She wondered as she undressed and slipped a silk robe over her naked body. Had he done this sort of thing before? Of course he had for his timing proved to be perfection. Even the scratch on her door would not have disturbed the lightest sleeper in the adjacent compartments and he had not committed the insensitive mistake of coming to her other than fully dressed.
Without any preliminaries Alain took her masterfully against the wall. She had been lubricious and ready for him almost since the moment he had first sat down at her table and it was merely the work of a moment for him to open his flies and to strong arm her into position for the entry.
She came almost immediately, Alain shortly after, and he left the compartment as quietly as he had entered. Fiona was then lost in the pleasure of recalling the entire evening as she tenderly cleansed herself before slipping into bed. Once there she lay drowsily while fingering herself to another softer climax and feeling no regrets before falling into a deep and guiltless sleep.
However it was a different matter when she awoke to the sound of the attendant making the breakfast call. Now the guilt had surfaced in full force.
