Evelynne - The Confession

The clicking of Evelynne's heels down the hallway announced her arrival well before she was within sight. Even in the busy hallway of a Parisian University, that sound still drew the gazes of onlookers who picked out the clear, high notes amid the bustle and gossip. Some gazes lingered, some averted. On any given day, it was a toss-up as to which would be more common. Her face- immaculately made up to enhance her natural beauty- hair, and fashion were more than enough to steal the heart- or at the very least the imagination- of any man. And it was little wonder, she had been doing it on purpose for so long that it was effortless. More than second nature, feminine seduction had ceased to be a concept separate from her identity.

Yet the elephant in the room continuously left men too self-conscious- too drugged by society's standards- to maintain the gaze for long. The tremendous musculature boasted by her every curve, much as it made her resemble a masterwork of some forgotten Renaissance sculptor, proved too much for their fragile egos to handle. Be it in school, in the street, or at the gym, she knew that look. That rub of the arm and the less-subtle-than-intended glance at one's own physique that gave away the feeling of inadequacy within the majority of the male population. She was the most muscular human being in France, and they couldn't handle it. 'I could never find a girl more muscular than me attractive' was the thought that went through their heads. And if not, it was 'What would my social circle think of me if I dated such a girl?'

Yet still that first longing glance remained. Whether they knew it or not- whether they accepted it or not- she was hot as hell, and their bodies reacted to that immutable fact of the universe. That little quirk of the lips and raise of the brow enchanted them, dispelling thoughts about her strength for the barest of moments to invite them to imagine a night in her private company. And quite often, these thoughts were accompanied by a downward glance at her tantalizing breasts. She was not a bodybuilder- tone was not her goal. As such, her well-preserved healthy, feminine fat collected in the most flattering of places, producing a look curvier than any peer's. A true glamazon. There was rarely a time that she cast a glance over her shoulder and did not spot somebody admiring the view below her belt line. And if only some honest man had the courage to approach her and the mental fortitude to hold a real conversation, they would know the pleasures that waited there.

Alas, it was always one or the other with men, it seemed. Macho, or schmoe, with no inbetween. She dispelled the thought before it fully crystallized, this morning. She didn't need to deal with that gnawing pit of frustration again.

Turning a corner, she entered her classroom- already mostly full, she enjoyed arriving right before the beginning of class. Every eye in the room went to her, and a quiet thrill warmed her chest for a moment as she took her seat in silence. Arriving on the dot had become a science to her.

While the activity in the room continued- as though somebody had hit the pause button, then resumed play- she set her books down and produced a pen from her bag. Rather than deal with a bulky and often unfashionable backpack, she opted instead to rely upon the school's lockers and carry her books from class to class. Even this ritual repeated at every class was carefully tailored. Neat books, tactically arranged for comfort and space, and pen dancing gracefully between her fingers, she was ready right as the teacher walked in.

...

Emanuel ran through the hallways- not too quickly, not wanting to run into anyone- but not wanting to be too late. He didn't particularly care about art history class- he was an artist, not a historian after all- but he had a reason to be on time today. Or at least not too late. Unfortunately, a broken automatic door had slowed him down today, so there wasn't much he could do at this point but hustle.

Few paid him any attention. Skinny, blonde, just slightly above average height, bespectacled- why should they? He was an ordinary student in just about every sense. Well, there was the fact he was British, not French, but nobody could tell that just by looking at him. But he rarely dwelt on any of that. He wasn't after notoriety in any sense, he was just a guy living his life.

Trying not to breathe too hard, he slowed his step as he made it to the room, right as the teacher was doing so, herself. Hunching in a subconscious effort to make himself less noticeable, he slipped in behind her and made his way to his seat, where he quietly set to readying his work materials. Book, pen, ink... He had no intention of studying in this class though. Today was going to be the day!

His eyes wandered to the object of his excitement- Evelynne Moreaux, sitting perfectly straight in her seat, the model student, on the front row. Chewing his lips nervously, he put his pencil to his paper and set to sketching. Words- especially French ones- were not his strength, but when it came to art, he knew how to express himself. He hoped that would be enough.

...

An hour and forty-eight minutes later, the professor wrapped up the lesson, and the class began noisily packing up. Evelynne, for her part, simply stacked up her books, put her smaller things in her purse, and got up, one of the first out the door.

She had just rounded the first corner on her way to the lockers when she heard the footfall of someone jogging in sneakers behind her, and a voice called out. "Miss Moreaux!"

She stopped and turned, eyes raised in surprise and curiosity. Who...?

A skinny blonde young man, as tall as she was in heels, stood there, face flushed, holding an envelope in his hands. She had noticed him earlier when he had slipped in late- actually, she had noticed him long before, having observed her classmates on numerous occasions. She didn't know his name, but he was cute. "Yes? What is it?" she addressed him, once she had turned around.

"I um... I have... I made this," he stammered, holding out the envelope.

Her heart skipped a beat, mind immediately springing in a hundred different directions, some hopeful and others more mundane, as her eyes fell onto the white envelope he held forth. Rather than put the flustered boy on the spot by asking him what it was, she simply placed her books on a nearby flat surface and took it.

Her eyes, clear and blue, darted to him for a moment, forgetting her measured poise as a look of curiosity and anticipation replaced her natural confident expression, then back down to the note and she opened it.

It wasn't a note at all. She blinked, a small gasp escaping her lips as she unfolded the paper inside, to see herself, drawn in a curious yet clearly well-drawn style. It was inked, and he clearly had put much effort into it. The varying thickness of the lines showed that he had used precise drawing utensils to create it. And she was beautiful. Surrounded by roses and vines, she looked both powerful and beautiful. She couldn't help but blush as she took it in. There was only one thing this could be.

At length, she lowered the picture and smiled at the boy who had given it to her. "It's beautiful." She was taken off-guard. Nothing like this had ever happened before. But she quickly collected herself, though the grin possessing her lips proved impossible to exorcise. "I'm flattered. Thank you." She folded the paper and slipped it back into its envelope. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage- I don't know your name."

"Emanuel," he said hastily. "I-I'm glad you like it."

His clear nervousness was endearing. "Would you care to walk with me to the lockers, Emanuel?" she invited, smiling softly and invitingly.

His eyes widened, no doubt amazed this was going so well. "Yes, of course! Can I help you carry anything?"

"That's very kind of you. Of course." She picked up her books, "You can take some of these."

He did so, nervously. Like he was afraid to touch her. "You uh... You like it?"

"I do, very much," she laughed softly. "I think I will frame it in my room, in fact."

"Oh wow, uh... I'm really glad you do!"

"Where are you from, Emanuel?" she asked, eyes on him as they walked side by side. "You have a little bit of an accent- English?"

"Yes, that's right," he said, seeming to relax a bit. "From Ipswich."

"What brings you to France?"

"Well, I want to study art- I am studying art, I mean. And France is, well..."

"Yes, it is," she agreed, smirking with amusement.

"Are you an artist too?" he ventured timidly.

"No, merely an appreciator. I'm afraid I don't have much talent for visual art, but I love art in all of its forms."

"Ah, you do?" he echoed, smiling, staring blankly ahead. She could read his thoughts- being an artist, he had just scored some points with her. And he had, indeed.

"This is an interesting style that you drew me in. I'm not sure I have seen it before."

"Ah, it's Japanese. Modern. Uh... manga style," he explained, seeming to grow less confident with each additional layer of explanation. She wasn't sure why though.

"Ooh Japanese, that's quite exotic! You must have broad artistic horizons."

He laughed nervously, "Uh, yeah? I mean, I don't know. I think it's pretty standard, really. Manga isn't high-end stuff. I'm uh... I'm a bit of a nerd." His last confession caused his face to adopt a deep pink of embarrassment.

Evelynne laughed, but she smiled kindly. "I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing," she said. "You seem to have your life in order, a clear vocation, studying abroad..."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," he agreed, his blush fading slowly. "S-so uh... How about you? You're... are you from Paris?"

She shook her head, "Lyon, to the south. I'm only here for my studies."

"Oh, well, we have that in common then! Ahaha!"

"Yes! We do," she agreed amiably. They arrived at her locker and she set to placing her things inside. "My classes are finished for the day, so if you would like to spend a little time to get to know each other...?"

He sucked in a breath, blushing again. "I-I have two and a half hours free..."

"Perfect," she said happily. She offered her arm to him, "Shall we go find something to eat?"

He stared at her arm, clearly enraptured by the sight of her muscles pressing against the stiff material of her jean jacket, before taking it. "Yes, that would be great!"

She led him through the hallway toward the stairs, making her way toward the campus exit. "You know, Emanuel, this is the first art I've been given of myself."

"Really? But you're... I mean, you're... A model! A muse!" he blustered, speaking earnestly.

She blushed a little, pleased that his verbal worship was already leaps and bounds above what she had received in the past. "Thank you. I like to think so too." She caught something out of the corner of her eye. People were staring- more than usual, lingering. And talking too. The amazonian beauty had a boyfriend. She smiled as she wondered how many among them were jealous. And the fact made her appreciate Emanuel all the more- not only was he artistic, but he had shown the initiative to boldly declare his feelings for her where so few others had. She hugged his arm a little more tightly.

"Where are we going to eat?" he asked.

"A nice restaurant," she answered, "Much nicer than anything near the university. Your time window doesn't give us the time to go anywhere spectacular, but we can save that for another time, hm?"

"Uh, yeah! Wow um... This is a date, isn't it?"

"Yes... It's a date," she said, beaming. "Have you been on many before?" she ventured.

"Eh no, I don't have too much experience. Just a bit."

"That's fine, it's the same for me too."

"Really? But... I mean..."

She shook her head and shrugged. "You know how men are. Too proud to be honest with themselves. Self-conscious about a girl being stronger than they are... Or, they're completely controlled by their libido and can't maintain a conversation." She smiled at him, "But you're different, I can tell already."

"I... I am?" he asked, unsure.

She smiled. "You've maintained eye contact almost perfectly so far," she pointed out with a wink.

He laughed, ruffling his rather long blonde locks, flustered. "Ah, yeah... Well, your face is so beautiful..."

"Thank you," she said again, "Too often, those who are interested in my body only see the body. It's... It's not picky of me to ask for someone to like both, is it? And my mind as well?" she asked, a little bit of vulnerability slipping through her confident outer shell.

"No! Not at all!" he asserted vehemently. "If someone doesn't love you for each part of who you are, then that isn't love at all!"

She beamed brightly, "You're right." Of course he was. She was just being silly. Having standards was not being picky. "A real relationship should have both attraction and chemistry."

He nodded, in full agreement.

"Well, I think you're very handsome," she confessed, squeezing his arm slightly. "And as for the chemistry, we will just have to find out, won't we?"

He blushed deeply and stammered out another agreement.

They crossed the university's threshold in silence as their minds wandered. Evelynne gave Emanuel some time to cool off- it looked like he needed it- and waited for him to break the silence first, and eventually he did. "Evelynne... Can you tell me about your family?"

"Of course," she said with a smile, happy he hadn't led with questions about hobbies. "I live with my mother and father, when I am not in Paris for school. My father is an investor and business owner, who has kept us living in comfort my whole life. He's often busy, but loves my mother and I more than his money, so he spends a lot of time with us anyways. My mother doesn't work- she's a retired bodybuilder, who still keeps herself in shape. You can guess who I take after," she added with a wink.

Emanuel laughed. "Wow, that's... really impressive. So your mother inspired you to work out, I assume?"

"That's right," she said as they stepped onto a bus. "I began lifting weights when I was seven, and my mother has been my gym partner ever since. She is only a middleweight, in case you were wondering- I'm much bigger and stronger than she is. I'm also not a bodybuilder- I prefer size to definition, and strength to both- so I don't take after her a hundred percent."

He listened with rapt attention, blushing as his eyes wandered over what muscles were visible, witnessing the truth of her claims.

"How about your family?" she asked.

"Oh, well, my family is pretty rich too," he answered, eyes returning to hers. "My father doesn't own the company he works for, but he makes a lot of money in his position. My mother is a teacher at a private school. I guess I don't really take after either of them too much in terms of vocation, haha... Though it was also my mother who inspired me- but for art. She loves to paint, and I grew up with her paintings always decorating the house."

"I'd love to meet her," Evelynne said eagerly. "Does she sell her paintings?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"I'll have to buy some then," she said, flashing a clean white smile. "I could start a family collection," she added with a wink, tapping her purse where the envelope waited. Emanuel laughed in response, coming out of his own shell as he grew accustomed to their proximity. "Do you paint or draw a lot?" she continued.

"Drawing mostly, yes," he answered. "Mostly just sketches. My room is a mess of them," he laughed.

"What do you draw?"

"Portraits- people, mostly. My mother was more of a landscape person than I am."

"I can understand that." She gestured at the next stop indicated on the bus's screen, signaling that they would stop there. "There is something different between people, still life, and landscapes. And not everyone has the same tastes."

"What about you?"

"I like art, period," she said with a soft laugh. "Paintings, drawings, poetry, prose, music- as long as it is beautiful. I'm not good at mosty, though I play the piano and the cello. I couldn't compose a song if my life depended upon it, but I can play as long as I have the sheet music to follow."

"Oh, I can play the guitar," he piped up. "Pretty well too. I might be able to compose something- I've never tried."

Her smile brightened further. "Oh, I would love to hear you play. It's another date then, isn't it?"

He laughed and nodded, blushing again, "Yeah. Another date. Wow, I look forward to it."

They stepped out of the bus in silence, both a little flustered. Evelynne led him a little ways, to a fancy-looking restaurant. "Wow, you come here for lunch between classes?" Emanuel asked, incredulous.

"Sometimes, although I will go for something even nicer if I have the time," she said, almost dismissively, as they entered. This was just life as usual for her. For his part, Emanuel kept looking around as they were seated, taking in the sights until it was mostly cut off by the wall they were seated next to.

"The food in France is one of the best things about moving here," he said with a chuckle. "I miss the Indian food a little bit, but there's no denying the French can cook."

"Another form of art that we mastered," Evelynne said with a wink. "And another form of art that I adore. And can't practice," she laughed. She slipped off her jacket gracefully and hung it over the back of her chair. Her date's mouth slackened at the rippling muscles of her upper body came into view. He silently thanked the building's heating for blessing him with the view. Evelynne caught his look, which drew the corners of her mouth up into a knowing smile. She rested her chin on her steepled fingers and gazed at him expectantly.

"Your body is on a whole other level," he admitted boldly. "You're a work of art in your own right..."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, expression growing lascivious. "Thank you, Emanuel. I suppose it's true that artists love to hear their work complimented, don't they?"

"Yeah," he agreed with a laugh.

She unfolded her menu in front of her, cruelly blocking most of her physique from his view with a knowing smile. "Why don't we order? We don't have too much time, after all."

He nodded, eyes flitting up to hers and blushing as he saw the way she looked at him, then buried his face in the menu.

"Are you a wine lover?" Evelynne asked as she browsed the selection.

"Probably not as much as you are, but yes."

She laughed, "You will learn."

"Yeah, I suppose, if I'm uh... I'm dating you." He peered over the top of his menu at her, and her crystal blue gaze met his.

She smiled and folded the laminated paper, having chosen, and once more folded her hands under her chin. "Yes... Dating me." She blinked slowly, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering at him. "We are a couple now." She sucked on her tongue, letting the thought sink in.

"That was really fast," he laughed nervously, but clearly pleased.

"You pass my test," she told him frankly. "You aren't like the others I've tried to date before."

He fumbled for something to say and she laughed, tapping the menu, "Why don't you finish choosing what to order?"

He nodded to that, and they sat in silence while he did so. Eyes still often glancing up at hers, his blush deepening each time they met.

He eventually set it aside as a waiter came by to take their order. Evelynne started them off with some stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer, and got herself a lamb steak with roasted greens in cream sauce for the main course, while Emanuel ordered some soup. To go with it all, Evelynne picked out a wine for the two of them to share, and a bottle of water.

Once the waiter was gone, the conversation continued. "So, you said your family is fairly rich, are you used to eating like this?" Evelynne asked.