Jenny's Summer Ch. 01

"Well, what are you in the mood for, miss?"

I licked my lips and raised my eyebrows a little, then gave him my answer in as innocent a voice as I could manage. "I would like some fish, wild salmon, if possible. A glass of wine would be nice and relaxing. Is there a restaurant, here, where we could have that?"

"I'll be back in a few minutes, miss." He turned about and marched out of the lounge. I don't think he had caught my hints, or if he had then he had shown no sign.

Well, he was going to be a hard nut to crack, I thought. Looking about the lounge, I spotted a TV. I turned it on and found an American news channel. After a few minutes I began switching channels. I'd been to the North Pole and talked to real faeries! Stories about sleazy congressmen, bank robbers, movie stars and embezzling businessmen just didn't seem to be that interesting anymore. Besides, after all the terrible things that had been said about Holly and Cecee on the news last spring, I was quite cynical about anything the media claimed.

I managed to find some Canadian version of MTV and there was some sort of jazz show on. My hips began to sway and an idea popped into my head. Perhaps a little music would soothe the officer's officious breast?

Now how else should I arrange a seduction of a Canadian man? I had to work on the assumption that they thought and acted like American men, after all Holly and Vicky weren't that different from girls in my own country. So that meant a little skin, but not too much. I unbuttoned the sleeves and rolled them up a little. Then I unbuttoned the top four buttons on my top. I leaned over and looked down my top in a mirrored surface. Oops! A little too much and I did one button back up. Then I kicked off my shoes. I wanted to look relaxed in his company.

Now what? I needed to get him to touch me, even just a brief physical contact to break the ice. Perhaps if he thought I had dozed off he might nudge me to awaken me? I lay down on a couch and suppressed a smile at the fairy tale image I was presenting to him. Phil had managed to dodge my wiles but this one wouldn't!

I heard voices.

"Mmmm." Then there was a woman's giggle. "I told you there wouldn't be anybody here."

"Great. Take off your skirt, honey," urged a man's voice.

"Hey! Not so rough. Look, let's use that couch over there."

Then they must have spotted me. "Well I'll be. She's gorgeous."

"Thank you, very much," pouted the woman.

"Keep your voice down or you'll wake her."

"Let's go. We'll find some other quiet spot," urged the woman.

"No. I have an idea. We could wake her and entice her into a threesome. You did say you would do anything I wanted."

"I am not sharing you! And if you think that I am going to have sex with you while you're planning on fucking a girl that looks as hot as her...you bastard!"

I opened my eyes and saw a man in a pilot's suit watching a flight attendant storm off.

"Bitch!" he yelled after the girl.

He turned around and noticed I was awake.

"Well, honey, do you want to party? You look like you've already started. Afterwards, I can show you my plane and you can sit in the pilot's seat." Although he sounded greasy, he appeared quite presentable as he was taller than average, with a good build and curly, blond hair.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Time to stand up for my fellow women, I decided. "I've got a better idea. You can go fuck yourself."

He snarled and took a step toward me, raising his hand.

"I've brought your dinner, miss," said the Mountie, pushing the door open with his back so he wouldn't drop the tray he was carrying.

Then all three of us froze. The slimeball had his hand raised as if to strike me, I was sitting on the sofa looking from one man to the other and the officer stared at the pilot. It was a very cold stare.

"Miss, if this man has done anything to you I would appreciate you telling me right now. He will disappear into a deep, dark hole."

"Ha! You're a Mountie. What are you going to do, taser me?" he taunted. But the effect it had on the officer was surprisingly chilling.

He calmly placed the tray on a table near him and his hand went to his holster where he unbuttoned his gun and placed his hand on the grip. The pilot's face went white. "Sir. Back away from the ambassador right now and you will not be hurt. Lay face down and put your hands behind your back. You have threatened a foreign dignitary and I have authority to use deadly force to protect her and avoid an international incident."

The pilot backed away from me. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just going to high-five her. She can tell you." He turned to me and pleaded with his eyes. I thought I smelled urine, but didn't look down to see if he had wet his pants.

"Why officer, thank you for returning at just the right time. I would feel much safer if this person were not here right now." This asshole was going to get a good scare, but I didn't think it would change his manner with women. And while the jerk might believe that nonsense about 'authority to use deadly force', I certainly didn't.

"Come here, sir." Having lost the wind in his sails, the pilot shuffled over to the officer like a naughty, little boy. "I'll be back as soon as I can, miss," said the emotionless policeman. He grabbed the pilot's arm and dragged him from the lounge.

I sighed. I collected the tray and ate the meal, mostly alone. While I was grateful for the Mountie's presence when he did return, my planned seduction went nowhere. I just didn't seem to have much luck with Canadian men, at all.

VII

My flight took me to the city of Montreal, in the province of Quebec. I was a little concerned about the fact that everyone spoke French there, as I had never been that good with other languages in school. And in the nine years since high school I hadn't become any more proficient at them.

Once I had disembarked and managed to find an English to French dictionary in a little airport shop, I felt more comfortable. To my surprise, I found that many people at the airport and in the city spoke at least some English and this was of great help to me in renting a car. Unfortunately, the only French I spoke came from an old disco song: 'voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir'. I expected that phrase to get me into trouble, not out of it. On the other hand...

Yes, it was getting to be a bit of a dry spell! It wasn't longest, but it did seem the driest.

I spent a couple of hours in Montreal. It was a nice city, but it was the people and the presence of French signs everywhere that made it seem rather exotic. Though I felt an urge to make my way northwards and uncover the mystery of the null-region in the atlas, I just had to stop at a French cafŽ.

I took a seat on the patio. As the waiter came by to take my order, I pulled out my dictionary. He noticed the small book and interrupted me. "I do speak English. What would you like?"

I was unsure. "Uhm, I've never been to Quebec before and I haven't eaten much French food. What would you recommend for a real French cafŽ experience?"

"I'll be back soon with something you'll like, mademoiselle." And he left the table and headed back into the cafŽ. As I waited I watched people walk by. Some of the women had interesting taste in fashion. I found some of them very sexy and some of the outfits intriguing. When I came back to Montreal I would have to stop in at a few boutiques.

The waiter brought the food to the table, told me what each item was and then left me to enjoy it. A lot of it was rich and creamy, yet light. I wondered if a cafŽ in Paris would be similar. Lost in a daydream about travelling to France, I suddenly realized I was staring in the direction of two young women. Despite my constant stare they did not appear to notice my presence as they seemed lost in each other.

They were both pretty, about twenty and were sitting across the cafŽ patio from me. The red head was wearing a single-piece, under-the-shoulder, green dress that extended down to just above her knees. Her legs were crossed under the metal table and her top leg was swinging fairly vigorously causing her high heeled shoe to dangle and bounce on her toes. The brunette was short-haired and a little slimmer than her red-haired companion. She wore a white t-shirt, black slacks and sandals.

Needless to say, I found them both attractive. They were whispering to each other in French when the red head reached out and caressed her friend's arm. The brunette smiled, leaned forward and was rewarded with a tentative kiss. They separated and nervously glanced around.

I quickly focussed my attention on some pigeons, which were fighting over table scraps near where I was sitting. I silently counted to ten and then glanced back at the two girls.

Again, they seemed to be deeply absorbed in each other. They pulled their chairs a little closer together and the brunette put one arm around the other's shoulders, as her other hand reached out across the table. Their fingertips met and then their fingers entwined.

A shadow passed across the patio and I looked up to see a couple of seagulls flying overhead. I quietly moved my chair further under the protection of the table umbrella and then turned back to the two lovers.

They were now kissing very sweetly. Their lips would part an inch or two and then they would come together again slowly and tenderly. My own lips tingled at the sight. They kissed and withdrew, kissed and withdrew, again and again. The red head had her far hand on the brunette's cheek.

People walked by on the sidewalk, but either did not notice or tried hard not to notice the passion and love being demonstrated at their table. And the two continued their tasting of each other's lips. Now, both of sets of my lips were tingling. My heart began to speed up a little. How far could this go? What kind of decency laws did they have in Canada? What kind of decency laws did they have in Quebec or Montreal?

I sensed the waiter standing by my table.

"The food is fine, thank you," I shooed him away.

The girls continued their kissing and sometimes, when the street traffic thinned, I thought I could hear a gasp or small moan make its way across the cafŽ patio.

I sensed the waiter standing by my table again. I looked up and saw a different man. It was an older man in a casual jacket and jeans. He was probably in his sixties.

"I am sorry, mademoiselle. If they are disturbing you I shall ask them to leave."

"No!" I said far too loudly. "No. Let them be. In fact, bring their bill to me and I'll pay it." He raised an eyebrow at me. "They're hurting no one and the atmosphere seems very-French."

He smiled at me and bowed. "Very well, mademoiselle." He walked over to the girls' table. They had watched my exchange with the-manager?-having been distracted from their love making by my exclamation. The three exchanged words in French briefly. The two girls looked at me in surprise and I raised my coffee cup to them. They both gave me thankful smiles and the brunette called 'merci' across the patio.

All three of us watched the manager return to the interior of the cafŽ and then I looked back at the girls who were engaged in a quick and quiet conversation that finished with the red head flashing me a naughty grin. The two girls looked about at the nearby pedestrians. The red head held a finger up to me, as if to tell me to wait. I noticed the flow of pedestrians was ebbing.

The girls waited until no one was near them on the sidewalk and the red head reached up to the umbrella and pulled it down shielding them both from view from much of the traffic. The brunette looked into the cafŽ and seemed happy with what she saw.

The brunette then reached over and pulled down her friend's top. The red head's breasts were pale, round with a bit of droop to them, about the size of baseballs and topped with thick, erect nipples surrounded by areolae about the size of a quarter. They both looked over at me to make sure I was watching, then the brunette tilted her head down and put her mouth over one of the nipples.

There was a loud sucking sound and the red head's eyes closed in pleasure. They adjusted their positions so I could see the brunette's lips pulling on the nipple. Then her lips opened and she bit down on the tender bud. She squeezed with her teeth and the red head moaned and ran her hands through her companion's short, brown hair.

The brunette pulled her head back a little, stretching out the nipple. Then she glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back and took a deep breath.

The brunette then released the red head's nipple and lifted her friend's top back up. The red head gave her a hard kiss. Again they looked back at me and smiled. Then the red head grabbed her companion's hand and the two got up and left the cafŽ. I watched them walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

A short time later the waiter brought out the two bills. I paid, bid him goodbye and headed for my car. As much as I would love to have stayed and sought out more shows such as what I had just witnessed, the urge to proceed north was getting stronger and stronger.

VIII

From Montreal, I travelled roughly north. It was a long drive, with constant back-tracking each time I found I had followed the wrong highway. My lack of understanding of French made navigation difficult. I found outside of Montreal, whenever I stopped, very few people actually spoke French. Over the days I stayed in several motels and bed and breakfasts and I found listening to a foreign language was very relaxing, even if my attempts to communicate were comedic at best.

I enjoyed the trip, though, and often stopped to look at wildlife such as bears, deer or moose. The scenery went from hilly but fertile farmlands and thick forests in the south to a rocky and pine tree filled area, almost barren of soil in places, further north. The further from civilization I journeyed, the more exotic I found the view with the varying elevation of the smooth-worn and brightly coloured rocks, the pools, ponds and lakes, the streams and rivers, the little French villages hidden away in a, what seemed to me, remote area of the world. It was so alien to anything I'd known back in Georgia. I could imagine driving around a curve and finding the highway blocked off with a sign saying 'planet not yet finished here'.

For Breeleigh and Puckrin to say there was nothing here was so far from the truth. There was life and wilderness in abundance in these thick, dark forests. I could easily believe that I saw places where no human foot had trod, although the presence of a paved road belied that idea.

IX

At last I reached a town that the map indicated was the end of the road, literally. The locals at the gas bar indicated the road did indeed continue on to the north, but they strongly advised me against the trip. Whether it was because I was a lone, pretty, young, foreign woman or for some darker reason, I could not determine. But I was curious as to why the latter thought even occurred to me; I wasn't in some horror flick.

I went to the diner in town and picked out a seat at the counter. The waitress said something to me in French and then hurried off to give a couple of husky looking guys their fat french fries topped with cheese and gravy. She was about twenty and had a bounce in her step.

I examined the menu as best I could: it was all in French. I pulled out my trusty dictionary and began to try to decipher what I could before she returned. What I would have given for a menu with pictures on it!

With a swish of her dark pony tail, the waitress returned. She looked down at my English to French dictionary. She was wearing a light blue sun dress under her apron. I smiled sheepishly at her.

"Anglais?" I asked her. It was a valuable word to learn for non-French visiting areas of Quebec where little English is spoken.

"If you mean do I speak English, then yes I do," she said in a charming accent that made me think of French maids in their sexy, little skirts. She reached out and put her hand on mine. I was startled at the contact and looked into her deep brown eyes. I felt her hand gently make my hands close the dictionary.

She pulled away abruptly, pulled out a notepad and a pen. As she held it in front of her waiting, my eyes dropped slowly back to the menu. I hesitated briefly at her chest and I saw that under her dress her boobs were a little bigger than mine, but the bra, dress and apron concealed curves too well.

"Who-pardon-what will you like?"

I think you know very well who I'd like right now, I thought. "Uhm, do you have hamburgers? And maybe regular fries, without all the cheese on them, although gravy might be nice." Some sweat slid down my brow and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. "And maybe a cold milkshake, please?"

"Oui, it is quite warm, n'est-ce pas? I will bring what you want back to you." She turned and went through a doorway and disappeared into the kitchen. I could hear fries dropped into a deep fryer and other kitchen-type noises. But I did not hear her speak to anyone.

It was warm. I undid a button on my blouse and rotated on my stool. The two husky men gave me the once-over with their eyes, smiled at me and then went back to wolfing down their lunch. Through the windows I watched the goings on of this little town. There were a few people wandering about, doing whatever it was they did just after lunch, but the town seemed almost like a ghost town. The air conditioner hummed noisily in one of the windows.

I heard the waitress set my glass on the counter behind me and I rotated back to face her. Some of her hair had come free of her pony tail and was smeared to her forehead by sweat. She offered me a straw, but I turned it down and took a deep drink of my thick milkshake. When I set it down she giggled at me and said something in French.

I picked up my dictionary again.

"Pardon." She reached over and wiped off my top lip, showing me the white foam on her thumb afterwards. She hesitated a couple of seconds and our eyes met, then she looked down and wiped her thumb on her apron.

"You are serving and cooking?" I asked slowly.

"Oui."

"It most be very hot back in the kitchen," I suggested.

"Oui," she answered slowly.

I debated on whether I had been perceiving the right signals or merely imagining them. I decided to test the young woman. "Why don't you have a sip of my milkshake?" I slid it across the counter towards her.

She glanced over at the two men and then stared at the glass as if she had never seen it before. She picked it up and looking me straight in the eye took a deep drink.

As she leaned over the counter to set the drink back in front of me, I reached up and wiped her upper lip clean with my thumb, as she had done for me. Her full lips parted a little as my digit worked its way across. I then sucked my thumb clean while looking her in the eye. She blushed and then remembering something, she exclaimed in French and disappeared back into the kitchen.

I heard the men in the booth laugh loudly and I turned, ready for a confrontation. Such displays between women might be accepted and even enjoyed in a big city like Montreal, but smaller towns would likely be much more conservative about sexuality, especially female sexuality. One of the men said something about "les Canadiens" and then there was some more French and they both laughed again. They seemed not to have noticed what the waitress and I were doing. I felt my heart beat faster as the danger of discovery got my juices flowing.

The waitress returned and a thick plate clicked loudly as it was placed on the counter before me. I looked at her again and noticed her apron was gone and she had unbuttoned enough of her top that I could see the beginning of some cleavage. She winked at me and then went over to the two men.