Love Around the World 25: Ypres

And after all that, Ypres wasn't my first stop in Belgium as I visited Antwerp, Bruges and Ghent before I finally focused on the small Belgian town somewhat synonymous with the carnage, death and destruction of the Great War.

My room wasn't particularly large though as I was travelling alone, I wasn't particularly worried about that. As long as the bed was comfortable and the bathroom was clean, I was happy enough. As Ypres wasn't a large town, I knew I could explore it within a day, so I wandered out later in the afternoon to grab a bite to eat and had a quiet walk about to figure out where the pubs were.

Just before 8pm, I lined up with all the other tourists and many locals as we silently stood and waited for the Last Post under the arches of the Menin Gate. Glancing to my right, the woman standing there glanced my way and smiled at me, blue eyes behind her glasses seeming to somewhat sparkle. She must have only been about five-four at most. I'm barely six foot, but she seemed quite small in comparison.

"Canadian," she stated softly, "Well, from Quebec, but Canadian."

"Australian."

At 8pm on the dot, there was a call to attention before the bugle started a rather haunting rendition of the Last Post. Once that ended, there was a reading of a stanza from the poem 'For the Fallen'.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

A minute's silence followed, and it seemed that all of Ypres was aware of the time as I didn't hear a thing around us. Even car engines seemed to be switched off, the road through the Menin Gate blocked for the ceremony. Silent enough that you could hear a pin drop. After the laying of wreaths, Reveille was then played on the bugle before the ceremony was concluded.

Walking away from the Menin Gate, lost in thoughts as I thought of all those young men who were lost during the battle, I felt a presence next to me. The same woman who'd been stood next to me during the ceremony.

"Hi," she stated with a smile.

"G'day."

That had her laughing. "Ah, that's right. Australian."

"Guilty as charged. French-Canadian? To be honest, I would have just thought French considering the accent."

"I'm from Quebec. Well, Quebec City to be exact. You wouldn't know, we prefer Quebecers rather than French-Canadian." She paused and chuckled to herself. "I'll shut up before we go on a rant as I don't want you to run away. We come across as somewhat French though we are just proud of where we are. Quebecers first and Canadians second is how I see it."

"Your English is fantastic if French is your primary tongue."

That made her smile. "Thank you," she said, "Canada is bilingual, Quebec isn't. I grew up speaking French, only starting to learn English in school though most only learn it to obtain their high school diploma and otherwise don't speak it." She paused and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm going on again... Anyway," she stopped and offered her hand, "I'm Clara."

Taking her hand, I enjoyed the soft skin of her hand. "I'm Mark. Nice to meet you."

"Are you travelling alone, Mark?"

"Yeah. I've been on the road for a couple of months now. Spending some time here in Belgium and then in northern France. Memorials and museums from the two wars."

"I only landed in Paris a couple of days ago and I came straight to Ypres. I'm... I'm doing the same thing, actually. My great-grandfather landed on Juno Beach on D-Day. There's a Canadian museum and memorial there I plan to visit. Might be a Quebecer at heart, but I'm proud of our nation and its service in both wars."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. Our boys mostly fought here in the Great War. Too busy fighting off the Japanese in World War Two to do much in Europe the second time around." Stopping outside the doors of a pub, I turned towards her. Definitely only five-four and she was wearing flat shoes. It was a cool evening, wearing a light coat. She had dark hair down to her shoulders, a gorgeous little nose upon which her glasses were perched, and she was definitely wearing lip gloss. "Would you like to get a drink?"

She started to answer before slapping her forehead. "Mon Dieu! Vous allez penser que je vous ai dragué lors d'une cérémonie du souvenir..."

"What?"

She blinked at me a couple of times before laughing to herself. "Sorry, it's just... We met at the ceremony and now you're inviting me for a drink... But when you were standing next to me, well..."

"You're rather cute yourself, Clara."

The blush was immediate though the smile simply highlighted how pretty she was. Walking into the pub, it wasn't particularly busy, Clara took a seat at a table as I asked what she wanted, making me smile when she told me that she wanted a Belgian beer. Immediately a woman after my own heart as I bought two beers and returned to the table.

She'd taken off her coat to reveal a blouse that had a bit of a low v-cut that highlighted some delightful cleavage when she leaned forward. I was smart enough not to stare though I'm sure she noticed the occasional glance.

"Tell me about yourself," she finally asked after we made small talk for a few minutes.

"Hmmm. Well, as I've said, I'm Australian. Born and raised in Sydney. Thirty-two. University graduate. Two siblings, both sisters who are younger than I am. Divorced, no kids."

"Oh... Is that difficult to talk about?"

"Nah, not anymore. Just one of those things. I thought we were in love. She insisted that she still loved me, but... Well, it's always embarrassing for a man when you have to admit your wife wanted to experiment with women. I said she could do that, but I couldn't remain married to her if that was the case. She elected to go experimenting rather than remaining married to me. A kick in the guts, but at least she didn't cheat on me."

Clara took my hand, feeling her thumb rub the back of it. "I'm sorry, Mark. I can already sense you're a decent guy."

"It's just one of those things. Like the lyrics of that song. I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gonna keep me down. Spent time moping about and being miserable. Then my sisters and their friends helped me feel better."

The smile was almost infectious. "Did you have a little fun, Mark?"

"Not too much fun, but they each had a friend who wanted me to feel better. Thing is, the reason why I'm here is that I always had a dream about visiting Europe. I put that aside when I met my ex-wife as she made me happy, I thought I made her happy, so we started building a life together. We bought a house and we'd even started talking about having children. I think talking about that set off her other desires. I guess she wanted to be sure before being completely tied down. Maybe other men could have accepted it. I'm aware some men are not intimidated by the idea of their wife being with a woman. Hell, some men would probably enjoy it. I'm not like that. I'm a one-woman man when I'm in a monogamous relationship."

"Well, I'm a one-man woman, Mark."

"What's your story?" She glanced away for a moment, gripping my hand a little tighter. I'd seen that reaction from more than one woman over time. My own mother was one of those who had to endure such treatment. Another reason why my father was no longer in my life, and if I saw him again, I'd beat the shit out of him. "I'm sorry. No man should..."

"The first time he does it, you think you're at fault. You blame yourself. 'I made him angry'. 'I did something wrong'. You victim blame. Then he does it again and again, and you just get used to it. You still think he loves you even when he raises a hand."

Moving chairs to sit next to her, she turned her head to smile at me as I wrapped my arm around her waist. My former best friend had raised hands at his wife. She'd called me one evening, almost fearing for her life. There's a reason why he's my former best friend after I'd left him without a few teeth and a broken nose. I wasn't the only one as four of us took care of business. Didn't care about it being a fair fight. When we'd seen her cowering in a corner of the living room, a black eye and bleeding from the mouth, rational thoughts leave your mind.

The fact the police never appeared on my doorstep was a surprise. His wife escaped to go live with her parents. He packed up and disappeared within a week, never to be heard from again.

Clearing her throat, she sipped at her beer and smiled. "Anyway, onto nicer things as that's in the past. I'm divorced. No kids. Thirty years old. I'm an English teacher at high school."

"Explains the excellent English."

"Even in Quebec, English is a compulsory subject. I love the French language, but I also love the intricacies and weirdness of English."

"Yeah, so many non-English speakers suggest English isn't that easy to learn because of so many different rules."

"My ex-husband was from the English-speaking parts of Canada and could barely speak a word of French. I just got used to speaking English when I lived with him. When I returned to Quebec after my divorce, I threw myself back into the French language. I never lost my accent, at least."

"It is kind of sexy," I said softly.

"I'm glad you think so... I know I was a little forward, Mark. But when you stood next to me, I just had a thought that I wanted to say hello to this handsome stranger. Weird, isn't it?"

"Not weird. I'm travelling alone so have had to introduce myself to strangers all the time. Men and women, I don't really mind."

"Have you, um... On your travels, have you..."

"If you mean if I've been having a certain sort of fun, then no, I haven't. I'm more worried about being a typical tourist. Taking in all the sights, lots of photos, eating some great food, enjoying a few drinks, and trying to relax and unwind at the same time." I met her eyes and laughed. "Bit early for that sort of conversation..."

"Just wondering..."

"Anyway, you're living in Quebec City again?"

"The past three years. I was married for, God, this sounds pathetic, but only two years. He was so charming when we were dating and engaged. As soon as we were married and back from our honeymoon, he changed completely. Slowly but surely, he tried to isolate me from friends and family. Then the verbal abuse..."

I turned her to me and wrapped my other arm around her. "It's okay, Clara," I whispered, feeling her relax against me, "Trust me, I understand. My best friend's wife wasn't the only one. My mother..."

"I guess it happens everywhere..."

"I'm proud of my country, but sometimes, a lot of the men who live there fucking suck."

After buying another beer as we had finished our first drinks rather quickly, she cleared her throat. "Okay, what are you doing tomorrow?" she asked.

"I was just going to spend the day around Ypres. But I've got a whole list of places I want to visit while I'm here before moving on."

"Would you like some company? I'm here alone and, well, I was worried about feeling lonely. I've never travelled solo before."

"I've been alone nearly my entire trip. To be honest, I'd love the company as I've felt a little lonely from time to time."

"Particularly if it's a pretty girl?"

"Definitely if it's a pretty girl."

We enjoyed another beer, I think both of us were feeling it as Belgian beer is quite strong, particularly compared to what I was used to drinking, so we called it a night after our third. Helping her with her light jacket earned a smile, and once we were outside in the evening air, taking her soft hand in mine earned another delightful smile.

Her hotel was near the centre, not far from mine. Stopping at the door, she took out her phone and asked me for my number. Once she had that, she sent me a message. "What time would you like to meet in the morning?"

"Hmmm. Want to meet for breakfast?"

"My hotel doesn't really offer any, so yes, I'd love to join you."

"We'll figure things out after that."

I wanted to kiss her. And I think she wanted to kiss me. I didn't think about it, I just leaned down and kissed her, and we were both smiling when she kissed me back. It was no chaste kiss, there was no doubting the attraction we had for each other. When I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her a little tighter, she moaned softly as her mouth opened and my tongue slid into her mouth. I have no doubt she would have felt something poking her a few seconds later. A great kiss always got my motor running, and she was one hell of a kisser.

"How long have you booked your hotel for?" she asked rather breathlessly once I'd let her go.

"A week."

"Kiss me like that again, and you might find a pretty girl moving into your room after three nights. I wasn't sure how long I'd need here."

"I'd like that, if you wanted to stay..."

"Maybe we could, you know, travel together?"

"After France, I was heading to London and then probably home..."

"I've not been to London either."

"Want to join me?"

"Let's see how things go, but I have a good feeling about you, Mark. And that kiss..."

I kissed her again, and it lasted a few minutes. When she pulled back, her eyes dazzled me. I knew she was thinking a million things at once. Caressing her cheek, her eyes closed briefly. "I'll let you go, Clara," I whispered, "Part of me would like to take you back to my hotel, but I don't want to move too fast."

"Breakfast tomorrow?"

"I'll let you know when I'm ready and we can grab something at a café."

Walking back to my hotel, whistling a merry tune to myself, I had a shower once I was back in my room, and I had to jerk off. Admittedly, I'd usually watch a little porn, but that night, I thought about the beautiful woman I'd just met, imagining what she would look like naked underneath me, maybe even crying out in French as she had an orgasm.

Yep, that thought definitely helped get me off. I slept well that night.

Messaging her in the morning, she let me know that she would shower and get dressed, meeting me outside her hotel. Though it was the beginning of a European summer, the weather wasn't exactly warm, still needed a light jacket to keep warm. Taking her hand made her smile as we walked towards one of the many cafés of the main square, enjoying what could only be considered a traditional Belgian breakfast.

Spending a few hours walking around In Flander's Fields Museum was a sobering experience as it went into incredible detail regarding the five main battles in and around Ypres, the daily life and deprivations the soldiers on both sides faced, the tragic losses of soldiers and civilians, and the utter destruction of Ypres itself.

There was enough around Ypres to keep us occupied for the rest of the day. We spent time looking at the list of names at the Menin Gate. Nearly seven thousand Canadian and six thousand two hundred Australian soldiers are listed as those killed and their graves are unknown. Nearly fifty-five thousand soldiers are commemorated by name on the Menin Gate. It's suggested that some three hundred thousand soldiers passed through the gate on their way to the front lines and that ninety thousand have unknown graves.

No real surprise we were a little quiet while having dinner that night after attending the evening service at the Menin Gate, sitting side by side at a little restaurant, trying one of the local dishes and sipping at another Belgian beer. After dinner, we did liven up a little as we found another pub to sit in, and eventually found ourselves chatting away with a few locals and tourists. Nearly all of them thought Clara and I were a couple. We said nothing to suggest otherwise.

Walking Clara back to her hotel that evening, we shared another steamy kiss, my hand ending underneath her light jacket and her blouse, feeling the soft skin of her back. Her hand ended up underneath my shirt, and I felt her fingers run through my chest hair. I wasn't overly hairy though my chest did have more than just a dusting.

"I'm not sure," she whispered.

"Then that's a no, Clara. It's okay..."

"There's a large part of me that would like to just sleep in the same bed, at least. But I know I'd want more once I'm not wearing much. It's been a long time for me. There's just something that has me feeling safe with you."

"I'm glad you feel that way. Feeling safe is a way of earning trust, I guess. And I guess trusting another man is a big deal for you."

"Road trip tomorrow?"

"I'm thinking of the museum at Passchendaele. After that, I was hoping to visit Tyne Cot Cemetery. And there are a few other museums dotted around that we could visit either tomorrow or the day after."

"Whatever you want to do, Mark, I'll be happy just to spend time with you."

We shared one last kiss, and I knew she was on the verge of asking me to stay, as much as I was on the verge of asking her to come with me. We resisted temptation though I couldn't miss the look of longing in her blue eyes. I'd never really believed in love at first sight. Even my love for my ex-wife had taken time to develop.

What I was feeling for Clara already scared the hell out of me. And if I was reading her right, she was experiencing some rather intense feelings as well.

Lying back in bed after needing to jerk off again, my phone beeped. I opened the screen to see she'd sent me a message. It was a selfie of her in bed, and I imagined she was naked underneath. Asked if she was, she called me immediately, and when she moaned softly, I asked if she was being naughty.

"I am," she whispered, "Thinking about the handsome man I met the other night... Thinking that I should have been brave and asked him into my room tonight... Thinking that I'd like him to invite me back to his room tomorrow night so I can spend the night snuggled against him..."

"Why don't you just bring your bag and stay with me, Clara?"

She whimpered and released a soft moan. "Hmmm... I love sleeping naked, Mark. Can you handle that?"

"I sleep naked too."

"Oh God..." she cried out, "Oh God... Mark..."

I figured I'd play along. "Clara... Cum for me..."

She whimpered again, hearing her breathing deeply. I was so fucking hard listening to her, but I just wanted this moment for her. I knew it was a big thing for her. "Mark... I'm so close... My pussy is aching for something other than my fingers... It wants to be pleased by a handsome man... A handsome Australian man who has the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen..."

"Just think about me using my tongue on you right now, sweetheart. I've always loved going down on a woman. I love learning about her body, what makes her moan, cry out, scream... And I love making a woman orgasm throughout the night..."

She climaxed on the other end of the line. It was a beautiful sound, a mixture of moaning, nearly sobbing, and heavy breathing. I remained silent, letting her calm down. I almost laughed to myself as that was the first time that I'd ever had a woman get herself off on the phone with me. I wasn't innocent, I guess there were just things I hadn't done before.

"Mmmm... That was a good one, Mark. Though it'll be better when you make me cum."

"All you need to do is let me know when you're ready, Clara."

"I'll bring my things over tomorrow morning. I have one more night booked for here, but I really don't care. I'd rather be with you."

"Let me know when you're on your way and I'll be waiting in reception for you."

She arrived bright and early, taking her suitcase and placing that in my room. She glanced at the bed before meeting my eyes again. Leaning into my chest, I left a soft kiss on her lips as she chuckled. "I just started thinking of all the fun things we could do in bed," she said softly.