Two Americans in Paris

She was already struggling to focus on her work by then, but his next and last text all but destroyed her resolve to do so: "Can't wait to spend Saturday with the Bush Queen! LOL"

Marie let out a squeal of embarrassed joy, and wasn't at all surprised to feel herself getting wet. The market was a little slow right then anyway, she reasoned as she stood up, pulled her tights off, and flopped joyfully onto her bed.

She didn't see Pete before Saturday, but she did learn on Friday night that he had obeyed her request not to tell Jane. She and Sam clearly had no idea about the party when Marie met them for dinner that evening at Sam's flat. Instead, the talk was of a romantic getaway for the two of them. "Marie, Jane tells me you're the romantic junkie of the gang," Sam began as he poured her some wine.

"I did not say that!" Jane protested.

"I wouldn't be offended if you did, you know," Marie pointed out.

"You would say that," Jane said. "But what I did call you was the one who could always find an excuse to be..."

"Romantic?" Sam offered.

"Sexed up," Marie suggested wryly.

"That's closer," Jane said, punching Sam on the arm when he laughed. "And if I know you, you don't mind that either."

"I don't," Marie confirmed with a defiant grin. "But Sam, what brought this up?"

"I want advice," Sam said. "You know how Jane hates Valentine's Day, so..."

"I don't hate Valentine's Day!" Jane protested. "I just hate the American style, gratuitous, treacly..."

"You see?" Sam asked Marie. "She hates Valentine's Day!"

"I do not!" Jane gave him an affectionate look, but she also poked him in the chest, hard enough to hurt from the look of it, although Sam didn't complain.

"Right," Sam said. "Since she doesn't want your friends to have the party, I want us to have a romantic weekend away somewhere. You have been to Lisbon, Marie, yes?"

"Yes!" Marie said. "One of my favorite cities. I'm jealous, Jane!"

"I was hoping you would say that," Sam said. Jane scowled at her true love and grumbled something under her breath, but otherwise didn't interrupt him. "What do you think of a long weekend there?"

"It's a wonderful idea," Marie said, hiding her disappointment that it meant they definitely wouldn't be around for the party after all; but she remembered to keep that to herself. "Jane, I really do envy you," she said. With a knowing look at her old friend, she added, "I sure wish I had someone special to go there with, you know."

"I'm sure you can find someone your own speed for that, dear," Jane chirped. "That's what I did, after all," she added, sliding her arm somewhat awkwardly around Sam, who responded in kind with a much more natural flair to it.

"Why don't you find a date and join us?" Sam asked. "Jane is right, I know you have no problem finding men."

"Gee, thanks!" Marie laughed. She couldn't resist: "You know, Sam, I do have someone in mind..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Marie, the answer is no!" Jane let go of Sam and stood up.

"She isn't asking you to be her date, is she?" Sam asked.

"No, she's talking about Pete," Jane said. "And I won't have it! I won't!" Giving them both a dirty look in turn, she announced, "I need to go the toilet. Behave!" On the final word, she pointed menacingly at Sam.

An awkward silence prevailed until Jane had slammed the bathroom door. Then Sam leaned across the table and touched Marie's hand gently. "I am sorry, Marie. She has no right to talk to you like that."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Now, listen," he said, casting a glance at the still-closed door. "Who needs Pete? Why don't you come to Lisbon with us? Only you?"

Marie was flabbergasted -- so this was why Jane had thought it was him she was talking about the other night. "What?!" she said it in a whisper, but it still seemed loud enough that Jane must have heard. "Sam!"

"I have asked Jane already," he purred under his breath. "She said no, but I will change her mind soon enough."

"Sam, she's my best friend! I know she's being a bitch over Pete, but still!"

"Even you always say you are so horny, Marie! You know you want to try this! Show us just how horny you are!"

Marie jumped up and grabbed her coat up from the chair beside her. "Go to hell, Sam!"

"Marie, you know you want to try it!" He pulled at her hand to try to get her to sit back down. But she yanked it away in disgust, and was out the door without a look back or another word.

Jean-Charles was, for once, home alone and watching television on the couch when Marie arrived. "No Pete yet?" he teased.

"That's tomorrow." The pleasant reminder made Marie smile through her disgust as she hung her coat up. "And you?"

"I couldn't even find Francois tonight," Jean-Charles said. "I hope that silly boy hasn't found another toy. He is my toy. But not tonight."

Marie felt her indignation come rushing back. "You know, Jean-Charles..." But he looked so cozy all alone on the couch, and Marie was still acutely aware that she might well never speak to Jane again, and it was a cold winter's night outside, and she didn't have it in her for another battle just now.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You forgot the wine," she said, kicking off her shoes. "I'll go get it." Returning a moment later from the kitchen with a bottle of merlot and two glasses, she didn't give him a chance to object before she snuggled up close beside him on the couch.

"What is wrong, Marie?" Jean-Charles knew her all too well.

"Nothing I want to talk about right now."

"If you say so." He gave her a playful tickle on her thigh where her skirt had ridden up, and once again Marie couldn't hope to be angry with her friend.

If the memory of Sam was still stinging the next morning, nothing could dampen her delight at the impending meeting with Pete. As Saturday dawned cloudy and ominous, Marie took no heed of the gray skies as she rocked herself to three orgasms before she even got out of bed. Rain might even be a nice touch, she mused as she rummaged through her closet for the perfect outfit for the occasion.

It was a harder decision than Marie had thought it would be. Anything too sexy would be trying too hard, anything too casual would look unnatural when she was known for dressing with some style, but she wanted to hint at the occasion at least. On that note, she settled on a black floral print skirt that she didn't think he'd seen her in before. It went well with her favorite dark red sweater, which he most likely had seen. By the time she was dressed, Marie was having second thoughts -- didn't it look too flirty after all? But she promptly persuaded herself that was the whole point, and put any further doubts from her mind as she was off to the Metro.

Pete, in any event, didn't say anything about her clothes when he spotted her outside the coffee shop. "Hey, stranger," he said with that toothy grin of his as they spotted one another on the always-crowded sidewalk.

"Hi, there!" she replied. The usual pleasant ache to throw her arms around him bubbled up in full force, and once again she managed to ignore it, if only just. "Want to get some lunch first? My favorite fondue place is just a couple of blocks."

"I've been wanting to try that place!" Pete said. "Let's go."

"You have?" she pointed towards the corner and he followed her lead.

"Sure," Pete said. "You've mentioned it a couple of times, about how you love it when you have to come see a client around here because of that."

"Wow, you remember that, huh?" Marie's heart was flying.

"Of course I do." Pete's voice sounded like he was grinning flirtatiously at her. Marie was sure that was just her hearing what she wanted to hear. But she looked over at him to see he was in fact grinning, and it certainly looked like a flirtatious grin.

The lousy weather at least had enough tourists at bay that the Quarter wasn't quite as crawling with them as usual. The restaurant was busy but did have a free table by the door, and the maître d', who knew Marie quite well, welcomed her by name with a smile. "Ah, Marie!" Not knowing Pete was proficient in French, he greeted him in English. "You are one lucky young man, my friend."

"Oh, I am only a friend!" Pete replied in French.

"Is that true, Marie?" he maître d' asked her.

Marie bit the bullet. "We'll see what happens!" She forced herself to turn to Pete with what she hoped was a welcoming grin as she took her coat off and draped it on the chair before sitting down.

"Wine for you both?"

"Yes please!" Marie replied before Pete could object. She had no doubt that would come in handy in a few minutes. As soon as they were alone, she turned to Pete and said, "Let's not feel guilty about that. It's Saturday and it's Paris, and we're adults, aren't we?"

"About the wine, you mean?" Pete asked. "No, that's fine! I was thinking the same. But, Marie..."

"Oh good," Marie interrupted, feigning belief that was all he meant. "Now, the party. Just how lovey-dovey do we want to make it? I say we go for broke on the romance. It's what the gang expects, and I'm definitely a big sap at heart anyway."

"You are?" Pete's surprise looked genuine -- just what had she made him think of her all these months?

"I am," Marie said. "Why do you think I ended up in the city of love, after all?

"I just figured you were looking for someplace more openminded than the Midwest," Pete said. "So was I, to be sure, but..."

"But what?" Marie suspected she knew what, but she was morbidly curious as to how he would handle the issue.

"I'm sorry, Marie, it's just that you know better than I do about double standards. All I'm saying is, you had more to run away from in that regard than I did. Not that you should have had to! I really respect the way you're so open about your lifestyle. But I know all too well how most people back home don't." He took a quick swig of his wine, then added, "I'm sorry if that offends you, I really don't mean it to."

"It doesn't." Marie shook her head with a broad smile that was absolutely genuine. "Excellent answer, Pete. I've seen guys stumble over that one like you couldn't imagine, but you hit it out of the park, my friend."

"Whew!" Pete said. "And you're a romantic, too?"

"Sex is great on its own, but better with love, wouldn't you say?"

Pete laughed. "Well, sure. But maybe we don't want to go quite that far at the party. Just imagine Jane's reaction!"

Marie chuckled to cover up the disgust she was feeling at the mention of that name. Jane had called four times that morning, and Marie had ignored every ring. She was absolutely not ready to hear her friend's latest haughty nonsense, not after last night, and she wasn't sure she ever would be.

"Oh, speaking of whom," Pete continued, "I have kept my mouth shut about the party with her. Just as well, she's been in a really crummy mood the past few days."

"Does that mean she's stopped putting everyone else down?" Marie quipped.

"Marie!" But Pete laughed as he said it, and she knew he had Jane's number just as well as she did.

Lunch was served soon after, with the usual fondue blessing-and-a-curse of being too labor-intensive to carry on much of a conversation. "I'm always afraid I'll run out of cheese," Marie said toward the end, when it was clear she wouldn't.

"I see what you mean," Pete agreed. "But you're right, this place is great." Looking around at the almost absurdly French décor, he added, "It does feel a little like a tourist trap, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, but so what?" Marie replied. "We know we're not tourists."

She insisted on paying for lunch, over Pete's objections, and then they were off to shop for decorations. Crepe paper, construction paper, colored lightbulbs, streamers, a CD of vintage lovesongs (Pete was surprised to learn Marie still bought CDs), and a couple of bags of chocolate hearts. Pete insisted on paying for half of everything except the CD, and amused Marie with his regret that they couldn't find any conversation hearts in French. "But they taste like chalk anyway, don't they?" he asked her.

"Couldn't agree more," Marie said as they counted out the cash on the counter for the chocolate, to the bemusement of the cashier, who wished them a happy Valentine's Day in faltering English.

The rain still hadn't started when they stepped outside with the last of their purchases. Marie had an idea now that depended on their getting caught in the inevitable-looking downpour, but it was just as well that first they got too close to her flat to justify taking the Metro instead. So as they stepped outside, she handed her share of the bags to Pete so she could button her coat up, and said, "It's a really beautiful walk to my place, if you're up to it?"

"Of course," Pete said. He also sent a thrill up Marie's spine -- and rewarded her long negotiations over what to wear that morning. "I love your skirt, by the way. Very Valentine's Dayish."

"Thank you!" Marie kicked one leg out flirtatiously to give him a good look at it. "That's just what I was hoping for." She brazenly hooked her arm through his with a comment on the pleasant chill in the air, and to her delight he didn't pull away as she guided him down the street.

Marie had often joked to her friends about how to find her flat from downtown: "you just turn right at the Bastille." That was just what they did, and soon she had him deep into the part of the city where she knew where the Metro stops were but he didn't. Perfect. It was about a half-hour's walk from there, and they were still about ten minutes away when the clouds opened at last.

"Uh-oh," Pete said as he felt the first drops. "Is there a Metro stop nearby?"

"Not that we wouldn't get just as wet going there as we will just walking home," Marie said, barely able to hide her delight at the turn of events. "Here, give me the bags, I'll put them under my coat to stay dry." They made her look pregnant, but that only amused them both. "We can throw our clothes in the dryer when we get there," she promised him.

"What am I supposed to wear in the meantime?" Pete asked. Then he chuckled, "Got any dresses in my size?"

"I think they would fit you," Marie replied with a grin. To her immense pleasure, Pete laughed and put an arm around her back.

They were utterly soaked when they finally got to her building, exactly as Marie had hoped. Once she ushered him into the ancient lift and closed the safety gate on them, she triumphantly pulled their bags out from under her coat. "Mission accomplished," she declared after confirming that all their purchases were dry and safe.

"I'm glad something's dry," Pete quipped.

Marie could only hope Jean-Charles would have the sense to stay out of her way on this occasion. To her relief, he wasn't home. "Welcome," she said to Pete as she flipped on the hallway light. Setting the bags carefully on the ancient bench seat by the door, she kicked off her shoes and squelched into her bedroom in her wet tights. Pete followed her lead. It was now or never.

"Would you mind if I take a shower while we're here?" Pete asked. "Especially since we'll have to wait for my clothes to dry."

Marie thought she could feel her face flushing as the words came to her. But she didn't get them out just yet, for Pete wasn't done. "I mean, I'll wait if you want to go first, of course, but do you have a bathrobe I could change into while I wait?"

"I'm more in the mood for a bath, I think," Marie said, pulling her coat off. She hung it on her desk chair and gestured for Pete to lay his there as well. "Weather like this just cries out for it, you know?"

"Then could I shower first?" Pete asked. "It'll be faster that way and you won't have to rush your bath."

"You could," Marie grinned and clutched her hands nervously together. "But you could also...well, Pete, would you like to join me for a bath?"

"Marie!" Pete looked like he was sure she was putting him on. "You're...not kidding, are you? And what you said at the restaurant, we'll see what happens? You weren't just teasing me?"

"Nope," Marie said. "It was a clumsy attempt to flirt with you." She was dying to undress, but that wouldn't do just yet.

"You don't think I came out today to hit on you, do you?"

"Of course I don't," Marie said.

"Then it was a joke?" Pete asked. "I mean, that's okay. I just don't want you thinking I'm the kind of guy who...who..."

"Who'd go out with a woman like me?"

"No! I mean, of course I would, but..."

"You would?" Marie couldn't hide her delight.

"Wait a minute." Pete's face lit up. "Are you asking me out?"

"I did just invite you to take a bath with me, didn't I?" Marie replied. "Speaking of which, I'd really like to get out of these sopping clothes..."

"Well...yes!" Pete said. "Of course I'd love to! But...where did this come from, Marie?"

Marie took a deep breath. It was time to put her cards on the table. "I've been trying to figure out for weeks, how to let you know," she said. "I hoped it might happen today, but I didn't think it necessarily would. But then he said that about you being a lucky guy, and...I'm sorry I wasn't more direct, Pete. I'm just no good at doing the asking, you see."

"I can identify with that," Pete admitted. "But I wouldn't have guessed you'd have any trouble asking. You're so open about...about everything, you know?"

"Think about it, Pete. Do you think a woman who's so open about 'everything', as you say, would have to be the one to ask the guy very often?"

"I hadn't thought of that."

"I figured you hadn't." Marie reached under her skirt and pulled her tights and panties down, half fearing and half hoping Pete would somehow know that the dampness in them wasn't only from the rain. With the ice now broken, Pete unbuttoned his shirt and Marie thrilled to the first sight of his bare chest. "That's just one of the things I like about you, Pete."

"Tell me one more thing first," he said, standing topless before her. "Did you feel this way about me back on that day I came to see you when you were sick?"

"Why?" Marie's heart gave yet another flip as she untucked her camisole from her skirt.

"Did you?"

"I'll answer that as soon as you tell me why you're asking, Pete." She had her hands at the ready to pull her sweater and camisole over her head, but she sensed this had to be settled first.

"Because, well, Marie, that day got me thinking about you that way, too. I mean, when I finally went home that afternoon, I felt ten feet off the ground with the way we'd bonded. It felt so good, even knowing how lousy you were feeling then, you know?"

Marie threw her head back and laughed, half in joy and half in frustration. "Would you believe, Pete, that's exactly when I started having feelings for you?"

"I would!" Pete said. "Well, I mean, it's the kind of thing where guys like me tend to fall in love, anyway, when we make an emotional connection like that."

"Why didn't you ever say anything, then?" Marie asked.

"I've been burned on it in the past," Pete explained. "For me it was a big emotional experience, for her it was Tuesday."

"Not for me it wasn't," Marie said.

"Besides, we were already friends and I'd already heard about the whole bad-girl thing. I didn't want you to think I just wanted to get you in bed."

"Well, I certainly hope you do want to," Marie quipped. With that she finally did pull her sweater and camisole off, and welcomed Pete's hungry gaze at her in her crimson bra as he unbuckled his pants.

"You're beautiful," he said as he slid them down over his hips. "But this just feels so...premature. We're friends, and I don't even know your middle name or your favorite color, you know?"

"Thank you, Christina, and purple." Marie swung her bra off and flung it playfully at him, enjoying his reaction as he fingered it and felt the lingering warmth from her body on it. "And I can see someone doesn't think it's premature!" she quipped, noting the rapidly growing bulge in his blue plaid boxers.