French Connections Ch. 02

"Nah, I'll be fine. It's a nice night for a walk," he smiled that sexy smile again. I walked him out to the elevator. The mess in the hallway had been cleaned up, no doubt Mme. Bilhaut would have more to say on that issue in the morning. I kissed Tom goodnight, hugging him tightly as we waited for the elevator to arrive. "I'll see you in the morning," he said, giving me another quick kiss goodnight and stepping into the elevator.

I grabbed my bra out of the back of his jeans as he stepped inside, "see you tomorrow," I smiled playfully at him, holding my retrieved bra up in triumph. He just laughed and took my panties out of his pocket, held them to his nose and inhaled their scent deeply.

"Until tomorrow..." Tom said winking at me and flashing that crooked and mischievously sexy smile of his as the elevator doors closed.

"Until tomorrow," I smiled to myself, allowing the wall to hold me up as I dreamily imagined all the fun I would have with Tom the following day.

I hurried into my apartment, closing the door quietly behind me and running to the French windows at the far end of the living room. I opened them and stepped onto the balcony, the cool summer breeze causing my flesh to tingle for the second time that night. I watched the street where I knew he would be walking along any moment now... and sure enough, a moment later -- there he was. I leaned over the balcony and watched him until he disappeared from view.

Jean-Luc stirred on the couch. He tried to sit up, but thought better of it. He sank back into the couch, rubbing his head tenderly.

"Jane, do you have any aspirin?" He asked in a loud whisper.

I looked from him, to my purse which lay on the coffee table not three feet from where he was. In the inside pocket of which was the full packet of aspirin I had bought the other day. I looked from Jean-Luc to the purse and back again.

"No." I replied evenly, turning my attention back out the window and taking in the magical view of the city's lights. I smiled softly to myself again; I just had to keep him alive, I didn't have to be nice to him while I was doing it.

He fell back asleep a few minutes later. I left a glass of water on the coffee table for him, in case he woke up again. I showered and headed to bed. It took a surprisingly long time to fall asleep. Thoughts of Tom, Jean-Luc, Jacques, Mme. Bilhaut and her plant pot... and a million other things wrapped themselves around my brain.

*****

The banging woke me up. It was a loud persistent thumping. I wasn't sure what it was at first, I initially thought it was coming from inside my head and was part of my dream... but the coconuts on the desert island where I'm occasionally stranded with the finalists of the 'hunks in trunks' competition don't usually make such loud noises when they fall... Eventually, and reluctantly, I bid farewell to the boys and woke up enough to realise that someone was knocking on my door. I stumbled out of the bed in my short pyjamas and made my way to my front door. The knocking unsurprisingly stopped when I opened the door. I had to force my eyes to open to see who was there...

"Jane!" Jacques said, with a sigh of relief as he grabbed me and hugged me tight. "Thank you so much. I hope he wasn't too much trouble." He hugged me even tighter, nearly crushing me, "It's so good to see you. I missed you!"

"Thanks. Good to see you too," I said, still struggling to hold my eyes open so that I could see him. I guess I'm not exactly what you would call 'a morning person'. "Jean-Luc's fine, he's still asleep I think."

Jacques released me and came inside to check on his brother. "Well, he's still breathing." Jacques said, holding his nose at the stench of his brother's breath as he drew closer to him. He opened the French windows to let some fresh air in. I closed my front door and rubbed my eyes. I needed coffee. I set about making some.

"Hey, leave that. Why don't you get dressed and let me treat you to breakfast at that café on the corner. C'mon, it's the least I can do." I turned to look at Jacques; he was still wearing his wedding suit from yesterday and was no doubt in need of some truly fantastic coffee and a hearty breakfast.

"Okay," I shrugged. I dressed quickly, putting on the first thing I could find -- some jeans, my pink 'hello kitty' t-shirt and some trainers. I splashed some water on my face, brushed my hair and teeth and was ready to go. I checked the time, it was just after ten. I would still have plenty of time to change and make myself more 'presentable' before Tom arrived.

The café was buzzing when we arrived. We found a table outside, and ordered. After what felt like an eternity later, our coffee finally arrived. I downed mine quickly, nearly burning my tongue in the process, and quickly ordered a refill.

"So... tell me about this hot date that my idiot brother interrupted." Jacques said, nudging me playfully with his foot. "Don't tell me I have even more competition for your affections?" he teased. I blushed as I thought of my night with Tom, and our sexcapades in the elevator. I laughed softly as I looked Jacques over, I had missed him.

"There's not really a whole lot to tell, I haven't known him very long." I shrugged, taking another sip of coffee.

"Oh, c'mon! Don't play a player missy! There's definitely something to tell, if there wasn't your cheeks would not be turning the same colour as your shirt," he grinned at me. This man knew me too well.

"Fine! Okay... there is something to tell. It's kind of embarrassing though," I buried my face in my hands and took a deep breath.

"Oh, those are the best kind of stories -- the embarrassing ones! I want to know everything!" he leaned in closer, waiting for the gossip.

"His name is Tom," I began.

"Tom what?" he asked quickly.

I hesitated and thought for a moment. I didn't actually know his last name. Jacques immediately picked up on this. "You don't know, do you?" he asked... "I'm loving this story already!"

"No," I bit my bottom lip nervously and laughed, I couldn't believe that I had had sex with a guy without even knowing his last name. "I don't know his last name. In fact, I barely know anything about him. He's American..."

"Well nobody's perfect," Jacques shot back, "but let's not hold that against him."

I kicked him gently under the table, "He's a nice American! In fact, he's a VERY nice American; 6'5, brown hair, brown smouldering eyes... built like a tank... and very well endowed. And he's really sweet and funny... and just..." I stared off dreamily into space, a big silly grin on my face "just... hot!"

"I stand corrected." Jacques smiled. "He does sound kind of perfect. So what does he do, brain surgeon, astronaut... or did you get to that part?" he teased.

I thought for a moment, trying to recall our conversation in the bistro... "Aerospace engineer" I said triumphantly, proud of myself that I remembered.

"I'm sure you had a lot to talk about then, aerospace is kind of you thing too isn't it?"

"Yeah, sort of. I use satellite imagery in my research, but actually we didn't talk about work. Actually there really wasn't a lot that we did talk about." I blushed again and sipped my coffee, guiltily. "I only met him yesterday" I added quickly.

"Yesterday! You met him yesterday and he was in your apartment last night... oh crap, so you didn't get to..." Jacques looked genuinely disappointed.

"Jacques!" I cut him off mid-sentence and looked around the café, getting a little embarrassed by the explicitness of the conversation... "and I didn't say that we didn't... get to... y'know." Jacques raised an inquisitive eyebrow and took another sip of his coffee. With a frustrated sigh, I whispered "we did it in the elevator."

Jacques spat coffee all over the table. "You! You! Jane Young... you had sex in the elevator last night with a guy you just met yesterday afternoon?!" It was at that moment that the waiter finally brought our food to the table. From experience, I know that he speaks English very well -- he's always eager to practice his English with me whenever I come into the café. He grinned at me, and looked me over... paying particular attention to my breasts, molesting the kitty on my t-shirt with his eyes. I folded my arms over my chest to protect 'hello kitty's' innocence from his perverted gaze - 'she's far too young to be subjected to this', I thought.

"Did you have to announce that to the whole restaurant?!" I scolded Jacques as the waiter, with a wink, finally left our table.

"Sorry," he laughed "hey I'm happy for you. I was just shocked. I never realised you were so much of a wild child" he glanced at my childish and 'innocent' t-shirt for confirmation of my somewhat naive and sheltered life. 'Hello kitty' was having a harsh time of it this morning.

"Well maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do," I said in a bit of a huff, as I poured the syrup over my pancakes and proceed to eat my free breakfast.

"So..." now it was my turn to ask the probing questions "I'm not even sure I want to know the answer to this, but what's going on with Jean-Luc... what's the story there?"

Jacques put down his fork and took a deep breath. "I don't know. He was fine yesterday morning, at least I thought he was. I think it started last week... I was in the cottage, and I found... this" he reached into his pocket and pulled out a diamond and pearl drop earring, or to be more specific: MY diamond and pearl drop earring.

"My earring!" I reached out and took it from him, "I've been looking everywhere for this, I was just about the throw the other one out. So what happened when you found it... eh, thanks by the way," I shrugged holding the earring up awkwardly and putting it in my pocket.

"You're welcome," he said evenly, "he wasn't as happy to see it and neither was Claire. I thought it was hers initially -- maman doesn't wear drop earrings and well..." he shrugged nonchalantly "it's not exactly mine or Anton's... I asked her about it, and when it wasn't hers she asked Jean-Luc... he lied and said he didn't recognise it. He said it must've belonged to the cleaning lady maman hires from time to time. Anyway, he took it and said he'd get it back to her." Jacques paused again, another deep sigh. "When I went into his hotel room yesterday just before the ceremony was about to start, all I found was that earring, sitting on the bedside table and a note, 'I can't do this, I'm sorry' and no Jean-Luc. I hid the earring before showing Claire the note."

I sat and listened, not sure what to make of all of this. It was such a strange turn of events. "I don't know what to say."

"He's an idiot Jane. He's my brother, I love him... but he's an idiot. He could've had you, and he blew it. He could be married to Claire right now -- okay so she's not my favourite person in the world, she's even more of a spoiled brat than he is! But she loves him, almost as much as she loves herself" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head in frustration at having to clean up yet another one of his brother's messes.

"I don't love him anymore, Jacques." I said quietly. Tom had asked me the question yesterday and I didn't know how to answer him then, but I was very sure now. I definitely didn't love Jean-Luc. Tom saved me. Apart from being my knight in shining 'denim' when Jean-Luc was a bit too drunk and 'insistent' last night... he had already saved me from myself. I was wallowing in self-pity and fantasising about the 'perfect' relationship I deluded myself into thinking I had with Jean-Luc. I was lonely, and he saved me from that too. I didn't know if I would ever be able to fully thank Tom for what he did for me, but I was damn sure going to try... starting this afternoon.

There was an awkward silence between Jacques and I. Neither of us knew what to say. Finally, Jacques broke the silence, "I'm glad." He put his hand on mine and squeezed it gently. "You were always too good for him, and if the tall American makes you happy... then I'm glad for you." He smiled warmly at me, and I truly believed that he was happy for me. "Thanks for taking care of him last night. I can't tell you what a relief it was to hear that he was safe. I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"I wish I could say that I was happy to help, but..." I shook my head and took a deep breath, "his timing sucked!" I finally said, and we laughed. "Seriously, Jacques, I am glad that I could do something to make you feel better and put your mind at ease. And it's so great to see you again!" I squeezed his hand back, and he lifted mine and kissed it sweetly. "I still love you, you know" I winked at him.

"And my heart soars to hear it, m'lady." He melodramatically kissed my hand again, "but then I am such a loveable guy," he grinned "and I still love you too," he pretended to bite my hand as he kissed it again.

"Well good!" I laughed as he pretended to bite my hand, "so does this mean we can start hanging out again?"

"I hope so. I'm willing to try it if you are?" his fingers weaved between mine, and he held my hand tightly, our fingers interlocked.

"Definitely" I replied, without hesitation. "Hey what time is it?"

"It's 11:35am. What time are you meeting the hot American with no last name?" Jacques winked suggestively at me.

"Noon. And I've got to get changed... I think 'hello kitty' has had enough excitement for one day," I said, glaring at the perverted waiter who was still staring at her. Poor kitty.

"Understood, let's go." Jacques paid the bill and we walked the short walk back to my apartment. He put his arm possessively around me as we walked and held me close to him. "I really missed this, just talking and hanging out with you like this." He leaned in and kissed my hair.

"Me too," I replied, placing my hand lovingly on the arm he held around me and snuggling into him as we reached my building. "Although," I added turning to face him and pulling experimentally at the creased wedding-suit jacket he wore, "next time we hang out, please dress better... I mean c'mon, creased jacket, creased pants, no tie... and look, you haven't even shaved!" I said, gesturing to his dishevelled outfit.

"I slept in my car at the side of the motorway," he laughed. "I can't believe I'm getting fashion advice from 'hello kitty', wait 'til Anton hears about this!" he playfully swatted my butt as I opened the door.

I laughed, knowing how careful his usually is with his appearance and his wardrobe; I couldn't resist this rare opportunity to poke fun at him. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to puke! I was still giggling when we got into the elevator.

I may not have laughed so hard if I'd known who was watching from across the street...

****** _ _ _ _

******

The handsome American tourist, who has a tendency to get lost in big cities where he doesn't know the language, had left his hotel earlier than he needed to - anxious to arrive on time to meet the attractive Irish girl he had encountered the day before. He hadn't been sure what to make of the situation when her French ex-boyfriend had shown up, but she seemed to want nothing to do with him. She was a descent person though and consented to him staying on her couch, seemingly to prevent him doing any injury to himself. He hadn't heard the phone conversation she took in her bedroom; he was busy 'babysitting' the aforementioned drunk ex-boyfriend. Tom had been the one who had suggested that he return the next day after she had 'got rid of him'. Had he made a big mistake? Had he misread the situation?

Standing across the street, arriving much earlier than he planned to, he saw her... the Irish girl. He watched her as she exited the café on the corner... but she wasn't alone. The French guy, still wearing his crumpled wedding suit from the night before, was with her. The American watched the scene unfold. The French guy and the Irish girl walked arm in arm down the street, smiling... laughing. He watched as the French guy kissed her hair, and he saw her smile warmly in response. He even watched as he swatted her sexy butt as they entered her building, and how she had enjoyed it. She looked so happy with him.

The American couldn't believe it at first. He just couldn't believe it; that after everything the French guy had done to her, she took him back. And so damn fast too! The American was angry, and disappointment. Hell, he was hurt too... he could admit it, if only to himself. He hadn't known her very long, but there was something about her. He thought they shared something... something important. She wasn't the only one who had been hurt before. He could identify with where she was coming from, but he couldn't understand or identify with this. Obviously, he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. Clearly she wasn't all that different or special after all.

He figured he'd save himself the embarrassment of knocking on her door, the awkward conversation that would inevitably follow and he definitely could do without seeing the satisfied smirk on the French guy's face when he would stand there, his arm around the Irish girl... grinning like the French idiot he was, like the cat that got the cream. Yep, he didn't need to see all that. He was supposed to be on vacation after all...

He turned around and walked back down the street he came from, the bouquet of flowers still in his hand. Another familiar face emerged as he turned the corner: it was the old French woman who lived in the apartment next to the Irish girl. She gave him a stern look and started lecturing him in French. He smiled his sexiest smile at her, handed her the bouquet of flowers and kissed her on both cheeks... she stopped talking and stared at him, utterly astonished by his actions. He winked at her and kept walking down the street.

The old woman stood there, watching the sexy young American disappear down the street. She smelled the flowers he gave her cautiously at first, not knowing if it was a trick of some kind... waiting for a blast of water or some hideous insect to jump out at her. They smelled enchanting. They were just flowers. She smiled to herself and placed them in her shopping basket next to the bread and cheese she had just bought. She was feeling pretty good about herself. So good in fact, that she didn't even yell at the two French men, dressed in matching creased suits, who nearly knocked her down as they left her building arguing with one another and taking no notice of her standing there. She recognised one of them as the one who broke her plant pot holder... but she wasn't sure which one, they looked so alike...

She shrugged it off and smelled her lovely flowers again. She held them close to her nose in the elevator to mask the strange musky smell that had developed since last night. It was vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite place what it was. The elevator doors opened and Mme. Bilhaut got out on her floor, she could hear the music coming from the Irish girl's apartment -- again! It was too early in the day to complain about it, and actually, this music was not the depressing drivel the Irish girl had been listening to lately. This was different; this she kind of liked. She sang along as she opened the door: "all the single ladies, all the single ladies.... put your hands up", shaking her eighty year old booty to the beat as she closed her apartment door behind her.

In the Irish girl's apartment, the Irish girl was just out of the shower, dancing in her lingerie with the stereo up full and singing periodically into her hairbrush as she dressed and waited for the handsome American to arrive. She would be left waiting...

*****

In another part of the city, the handsome American entered his hotel. Suddenly not feeling in a vacationing mood, and decided that a quick nap might help -- especially as he didn't get much sleep the night before; his mind foolishly occupied by thoughts of an exciting weekend with the attractive Irish girl. The receptionist flagged him down as he entered the lobby.