Parallel Lives Pt. 03

"So I have heard," Chantal chuckled. "Come, I have some breakfast for you, and your clothes are on the bed, all nice and freshly laundered."

Cautiously, he opened the door and peeked into the room. There, sat on the now made up bed was a silver tray, upon which was set a cafetière of freshly brewed black coffee, two cups, and a large plate of baked croissants accompanied with a selection of fruit preserves and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.

After having endured an arduous sexual workout the night before, he had worked up an enormous appetite, and after reviving himself with two cups of strong black coffee and devouring four croissants, made freshly that morning by the hotel's very own patisserie chef, liberally smothered in fresh butter and alpine strawberry jam, he began to feel much more himself again. Chantal joined him by enjoying a cup of coffee and a couple of croissants herself, and together they sat and chatted on the bed.

"How long have you worked for her?" Johnny asked as he rested against the headboard.

"Madame Verbier? I have worked for her for three years now," Chantal answered. "I get to travel all over the world with her which is, how you say, a perk of the job."

"I'd love to travel," Johnny mused. "I always had this dream of renting an old RV and driving right across Canada, all the way from Quebec to Vancouver, just me and the open road."

"Ah, Québec, it is a very nice city," Chantal recalled wistfully. "Plus they speak French there too, which is nice. Unfortunately, being Madame Verbier's stylist is a full time job," Chantal continued, sounding a little downcast. "I don't have much time for friends - when I'm not travelling overseas with Madame I am meeting with designers. It is glamorous but at the same time rather lonely, do know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I guess," Johnny replied. "I struggle with my own work/life balance sometimes, but at least I'm not jetting off all the time like you."

"It is, how you say, the flip side of the coin," Chantal observed.

"Speaking of work," Johnny announced as he rolled off the bed. "It's about time I get dressed and get this trip to Stonehenge organised for she who must be obeyed."

He intended his words to be a subtle cue for Chantal to leave the room and give him some privacy, but to his mild annoyance she remained sitting on the bed.

"Umm, do you mind?" he said to her after a few awkward moments, realising that she wasn't about to leave of her own accord. "I'd rather not have an audience when I'm getting dressed."

"It is okay - I will stay here. I could dress you, if you like," Chantal suggested.

"You... what?" he responded.

"I said I could dress you myself, if you'd like me to," Chantal reiterated. "It is no trouble - I dress Madame Verbier every morning, and I also dress her husband also. There is no need to be embarrassed, Johnny."

She stepped over towards him, and before he could protest she was already tugging at the knot of his bathrobe.

"Um, Chantal, I r-really would r-rather..." he eventually managed to stammer.

"Shh," she interrupted him. "Please, Johnny, let me do this for you - it is nothing to be frightened of."

Rooted to the spot, Johnny stood as Chantal opened the front of his bathrobe and pushed it off his shoulders, and once again he was naked in her presence. This time he was fully conscious as she checked him out.

"You are such a handsome man, Johnny," Chantal sighed in admiration of his nude form. "It is a pity I must clothe you now."

"Yeah, well if you insist on dressing me I would appreciate it if you just got on with it," Johnny responded impatiently. "I'd rather not be standing around naked all day."

"Oui, of course," Chantal answered with a gentle sigh, clearly wishing to enjoy the sight of his bare body for just a few more moments.

She picked up his underwear from the neatly folded stack of freshly laundered clothes and held them out for him to step into - gratefully he did just that.

"You have very nice underwear, Monsieur Johnny," Chantal said as she momentarily admired the sight of his designer boxer briefs and the prominent bulge his now concealed manhood made in them. "Much nicer than anything Monsieur Verbier has in his dressing room."

She gave him a rather wanton look as she admired the bulge at the front.

"They really make your... um... what is the word?" Chantal went on. "Ah! They make your virilté, your manhood, look really nice!"

"Um, thanks," Johnny replied hesitantly.

Chantal sighed once more before picking up his shirt and helping him to put it on.

"You have such a nice chest too," she said admiringly as she buttoned up the freshly pressed garment.

Gradually she helped him put on the rest of his clothes, straightening and adjusting them as she went until she was satisfied that he was looking his very best. Once he was fully clothed, Chantal then went on to brush and style his hair, and even applied a subtle amount of makeup to enhance his masculine features. Though the experience of being dressed by a woman wasn't an entirely welcome one, he had to grudgingly admit that by the time she had finished and invited him to check himself in the mirror, Chantal clearly knew what she was doing - he looked and felt at least ten percent smarter than when he'd dressed himself the previous day.

"Well, until Mrs. Verbier gets back I guess I'd better get busy," he said as he searched around the room for his phone.

Fortunately, his newly purchased smartwatch had a "find my phone" feature that caused the errant device to emit a tone, thereby making it easier to locate. He eventually found it on a small table in the lounge area.

"I need to see if I can get hold of someone at Stonehenge to give her a personal tour or something. Plus, I ought to get home to feed my cat and pick up my suit for tonight."

"I could come with you, if you like," Chantal offered. "I would love to meet this cat of yours, plus we could have a cup of coffee or something."

Johnny thought about her offer for a few moments. Even though it was plainly evident that she was eyeing him lustfully, he reasoned that in contrast to the powerful Sophia Verbier who clearly regarded him as some kind of disposable conquest to be used to exert her feminine power, Chantal seemed to be genuinely attracted to him. If she was anything like as predatory as some of the women he encountered on a daily basis, she would already have tried to have her way with him - he'd been totally naked in her presence already, and aside from her fingers grazing over his bare body as she helped him dress, she'd been almost the perfect gentlewoman.

"Well, okay I guess," he eventually responded. "As long as you don't mind me being on the phone for a while."

"That is okay," she answered with a smile. "I shall call down to the front desk to send a car to take us there."

A few minutes later they descended down to the lobby and out to the street outside the hotel where a smartly uniformed concierge opened the door of the car Chantal had summoned. It wasn't anything as regal as the limousine he had ridden in with Mrs. Verbier the day before, but the smart black German saloon was nonetheless a very expensive and well-appointed mode of transport.

"We shall go to your place first," Chantal announced. "We don't want your cat to go hungry for too long, do we?"

"Er, no, I guess not," Johnny replied, and then leaned forward to address their driver. "Kentish Town Road, please."

"Certainly, Sir," the driver, a young woman replied politely.

Given the tone of her skin and the timbre of her voice Johnny immediately surmised that she was of West Indian descent -- Jamaican, or maybe Barbadian pehaps. He didn't like to make assumptions of people's backgrounds, but he immediately decided he'd be very surprised if she hadn't grown up in Brixton, or possibly Peckham -- areas well known for their West Indian communities.

As soon as they set off, Johnny took out his phone and set about trying to organise the visit to Stonehenge, and after a bit of research on the ancient monument's website and a phone call during which he'd been passed around to several extensions, he managed to arrange for a personal guided tour of the site and its accompanying museum for Mrs. Verbier and her immediate entourage. All that then remained was how to get everyone there and back again in time to get ready for the launch party that evening. It was Chantal that offered the most logical solution, and after several more phone calls, and remembering Dame McAllan's words that no expense whatsoever should be spared, he managed to charter a helicopter to fly them as near to the monument as possible. Another phone call to Stonehenge, and he even managed to arrange for permission for the helicopter to land on a patch of grass adjacent to the coach parking area. All in all, as he tied up all the loose ends, he even impressed himself with his organisational skills.

Everything was concluded just as the driver turned onto Kentish Town Road itself, and a few minutes later both he and Chantal climbed out of the vehicle after the driver pulled up outside Johnny's modest rented abode.

"It's not much, but it's home," Johnny said as he let himself in and gestured Chantal to enter his small flat.

"I think it is quite nice," Chantal said as she scanned the open plan living room and kitchen area. "It looks... I think the English word is "cosy", oui?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Johnny replied as he closed the door. "Won't be home for much longer though. I'll hopefully be moving out to somewhere nicer and larger quite soon. Now, where's that moggy of mine?"

"Moggy?" Chantal responded, having never heard the English word before.

"My cat," he clarified. "Maxie! You in, buddy?"

He pursed his lips and made a high-pitched squeaking sound to summon the presumably dozing feline from his mid-morning nap. Sure enough, the grey tabby cat nonchalantly sauntered into the room from his preferred napping spot under the radiator beside Johnny's bed. He purred as he rubbed his head against his human's legs, thus formally admitting him back to his home.

"Aww, bonjour!" Chantal cooed as she bent down to stroke the soft fur between his hears. "Tu es un très beau chat, Monsieur Maxie!"

"He likes you," Johnny chuckled as the cat immediately allowed Chantal to pick him up and he rubbed his head against her whilst purring loudly. "But then, when he's hungry he'll love just about anyone as long as they've got food on them!"

Johnny opened the kitchen cupboard and picked out a sachet of cat food, and as soon as Max's feline eyes caught sight of the familiar packaging the cat began to struggle in Chantal's arms. She immediately set him down as Johnny emptied Max's food into his bowl whilst he miaowed in an impatient manner that implored his human to hurry up and give him his breakfast.

"He's a greedy little sod, but he's better company than most people," Johnny chuckled as the cat set about devouring his chicken chunks in gravy. "Bless him!"

"I hope I am amongst those who are good company," Chantal said with a slightly pouting smile.

"Well, I'd say you are," Johnny replied. "Compared to Mrs. Connor and Mrs. Verbier, certainly."

"Oui, they use men and then just discard them when they have had their fun with them," Chantal responded with evident disapproval in her voice. "I tell you, Johnny, I have more respect for men than those two will ever have! Ma Mère raised me to believe men should be treated the same way we expect them to treat us."

"Well, you can tell her from me I definitely approve of that policy," Johnny responded sincerely as he stepped into his bedroom to retrieve his evening outfit for later that evening, and to rummage through his wardrobe for something to wear for that afternoon's excursion.

He excused himself for a few minutes in order to change into something that was smart yet still casual enough for a trip out to the world famous neolithic monument whilst Chantal continued to socialise with the cat.

"I wish I could have a pet," she called to him as he rummaged around in his chest of drawers for a change of underwear. "Having to work for Madame Verbier means I spend too much time overseas."

"Doesn't seem to stop her taking her dogs with her," Johnny commented from the other side of the closed door as he slipped off one pair of boxer briefs and slipped another pair on.

"Ah, Minnie et Bipper," she wistfully recalled the names of the two miniature schnauzers that accompanied her employer everywhere. "They are sweet petit chiens."

"Anyway, I thought there was some kind of quarantine law when bringing animals into the country," Johnny went on from in his bedroom.

"I expect there is," Chantal answered. "But Madame Verbier is a powerful woman, and powerful women like her tend to get whatever they want."

"Isn't that just the way of the world," Johnny mused aloud as he dressed, this time in more casual attire but still as smartly as possible. "The ordinary people like you and I have to jump through all the right hoops, but the rich bitches at the top get whatever they want. Money may not buy happiness, but it sure helps open a lot of doors and turn lots of blind eyes to lots of dubious behaviour, don't you think?"

"Having worked with Madame for the past few years and having seen everything she gets away with, including the way she treats men like you, I can definitely agree with you," Chantal concurred as she stroked Max's chin.

"Then why do you continue to work for her?" Johnny asked her, now fully dressed as he stepped back into the living room.

"I have asked myself that question a few times!" Chantal responded. "The money is good of course, and I do enjoy seeing the world. I definitely don't want to work for her forever though. I have a plan, you see."

She briefly scrutinised his choice of outfit - a pair of tan coloured chinos accompanied by a light blue shirt and a navy blue tie and matching waistcoat.

"How do I look?" he asked her. "Suitable for an afternoon wandering around an ancient monument?"

"You look very nice," she commented. "You definitely have good taste, Johnny."

"Thanks," he accepted her compliment. "So what's this plan of yours?"

"To find myself a nice man," she responded as she continued to eye him up and down. "And then find a nice house in the countryside - un petite chalet. Oh, what is the English word?"

"A cottage, you mean?" Johnny surmised.

"Oui, a thatched cottage," Chantal grinned. "Nothing grand or ambitious, just nice and simple, you know?"

"I'd like to move back to Devon one day, when I eventually retire. Plenty of cottages down there!" Johnny added wistfully. "I've always fancied somewhere right on the coast, like Salcombe or Bigbury, somewhere like that - where I can just live a nice and quiet life. I mean, don't get me wrong I love living in London, but I don't want to be here forever, y'know?"

"I understand what you mean," Chantal responded. "Tell me, does this country cottage of yours involve anyone else? Apart from Monsieur Maxie?"

"You know, I have no idea," Johnny answered truthfully. "To be honest it's not something I've given much thought to. I mean, there's no shortage of eligible women wanting to marry me, but I don't know if I'd want to get hitched - I don't want to be some woman's trophy husband, y'know? I guess I'm just used to enjoying my independence."

"But, what if the right woman just came into your life?" Chantal asked hopefully. "Who genuinely wants somebody to love and to settle down and grow old with, not someone just to look handsome on her arm at cocktail parties."

"Well, I guess that might sway things," Johnny answered. "Never say never, as they say."

"Come, we'd better get back to the hotel," Chantal announced as she carefully set the contentedly fed cat down on the floor and rose to her feet. "Plus, I think I remember offering to buy you a nice coffee, and I know the perfect place to go."

"How could I refuse such a kind offer?" Johnny chuckled as he grabbed his coat and keys.

Back in the car, Chantal gave the driver an address In Soho.

"This place serves the best coffee in London, trust me," she turned and said to him as the driver set off.

They continued to chat as the driver drove along the busy city streets, with Chantal plying him with anecdotes about life on the road in the service of Sophia Verbier, and Johnny responding with stories from his boyhood in rural Devon. Looking back, his childhood had been pretty idyllic, a stark contrast to Chantal's own girlhood in one of the busiest and more ethnically diverse of Paris's arrondissements.

The driver dropped them off on Great Marlborough Street at the northern end of Carnaby Street, the thoroughfare that had once been the epicentre of "Swinging London" in the 1960's, and was still a go-to destination for the fashion conscious and trendsetters the world over. Chantal led him past the usual big coffee chains and led him down a side street, eventually coming to a halt outside a small Italian coffee shop called Luciana's. Behind its modest facade the place was like a time capsule from the 1950's - a throwback to a bygone age where frothy Italian style coffee was something new and exciting and enjoyed by all the hippest and coolest people whilst the latest rock 'n' roll hits blared out from a classic Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner. Johnny found himself instantly charmed by the place. The decor was modestly simple - basic Formica topped tables, simple chairs with red vinyl seats that had clearly seen a lot of use over the years, and with a simple black and white checkerboard linoleum floor covering.

Behind the counter and old but still reliable espresso machine hissed and gurgled as its operator coaxed a shot of strong black coffee and injected hot steam into a stainless steel jug.

"What is this place?" Johnny asked his French companion. "Some kind of 1950's themed place, or something?"

"It is no theme, Johnny," Chantal chuckled. "It has always been like this! It is exactly the same as when it first opened in 1956! Do you like it, Johnny?"

"I love it!" Johnny exclaimed as he took it all in. "But I've been living in London for five years now, and have been past this little alleyway loads of times - how on earth did I not find this place before?"

"Well, it is rather well hidden," Chantal replied. "What would you like, Johnny? A cappuccino? Or a latte, perhaps?"

"I think I'll have a mocha, thanks," he replied.

She ordered their drinks from the barista behind the counter, who, as Chantal explained to him, was the original Luciana's granddaughter. Scanning the room and briefly eying the other patrons, Johnny realised that he was the only man in the entire establishment. This was not an unusual situation, thanks to the wide disparity in the number of men compared to women, but it always made him feel slightly anxious at being the only male in a room full of females. He realised after a moment that he was just being silly, and that aside from one or two lingering glances from the women in his immediate vicinity, he didn't seem to be attracting any unwanted attention. He was fairly sure however, that at least a couple of them were undressing him in their minds.

They sat and chatted together over their respective hot beverages, and Johnny came to realise that he genuinely liked Chantal - he liked her a lot, in fact - and he was fairly sure that if her words back in his flat were sincere, she definitely liked him the same way in return. He didn't want to just succumb to her womanly ways right away, but he decided at least to make sure he left the door open to any advances she might make.

They soon realised that time was getting on, and that they'd better return to Verbier's hotel suite for Chantal to put together an outfit for that afternoon's trip to Stonehenge, and for Johnny to make sure everything ran as smoothly and to schedule as possible. Chantal quickly phoned their driver to come and pick them up from where they'd been dropped off.