Two Americans in Paris

"I should leave," Francois said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Marie looked up and shook her head. "No!" But both men misunderstood her, and Francois went back into Jean-Charles' bedroom to get dressed. He was gone before Marie had her head together enough to do anything but cry.

Jean-Charles managed to get her back to bed, adding an admonishment that he hadn't trusted Pete anyway. Takes one to know one, Marie thought, but she held her tongue as it felt right now like Jean-Charles was the only friend she had. She curled into a ball and lay numb for most of the morning. She missed two client meetings, but got her head together long enough to send an apology to each along with an invitation to reschedule at their leisure. With that out of the way, she took off her nightgown and took a very long shower, telling herself again and again that it would only get better from here, and resolved to not even try to get anything productive done today.

She put on jeans and a sweatshirt, not caring for once if she looked like an American tourist, and set off for a long walk. The Champs-Elysees was nearly two hours on foot, and the long slog in the dirty snow let her blend in perfectly with the mostly-local crowd. A beautiful walk even in the lousy weather, it at least brought up pleasant memories of the past few years, but they had a hollowness now that she hadn't felt before. Perhaps this was all a sign that it was time to move on? Anywhere in Europe was open to her, after all; her giant bush wasn't the only gift her Italian grandparents had bequeathed her. Or she could always go to California as she had dreamed of doing as a girl. Hawaii, even. It would mean starting from scratch with no clients and no contacts...but right now that sounded absolutely wonderful.

Marie stopped for a late lunch at her favorite steakhouse, just off the Champs-Elysees, and had no qualms about ordering a second round of pommes frites and a second pint of beer to wash them down. As she pondered her refilled glass and her future, she remembered the party. Of course they don't expect me to throw that, now! But then she remembered that the others didn't even know about her and Pete, except apparently for Jane. And maybe Sam, but she could simply slam the door in his face if he were brazen enough to show up. Or hers, too. Besides, wouldn't it be a moral victory if she did still have the party and put on a brave face for them to see, or at least to be aware of?

Yes, Marie resolved as she took her first sip of the refill, the party was still on. And she would greet Valentine's Day with a defiant smile. Somehow.

It was a much more leisurely walk home, owing to all the beer, and for the same reason Marie had to plot her course by the public toilets she knew of. But that certainly beat sitting around her room remembering last weekend, not to mention having to see the cursed postcard if Jean-Charles had been rude enough to leave it lying around. By the time she got back to the Place de la Nation the sun was beginning to sink, and she was once again feeling mostly sober. And still in no mood to face her own room. But where else was there to go?

The answer, when it hit her, was so obvious she felt like a fool for not thinking of it before. But that didn't matter now. Marie pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and prayed he would answer while she listened to the number ring.

To her delight, he did. "Allo bonjour."

"Francois?"

"Marie! I am so sorry!"

"Don't be, it's not your fault and I didn't want you to run off this morning! I just...wasn't in any condition to say so!"

"I understand. Completely. And listen, you must think I am a fool for sleeping with him again, but..."

"No, Francois, I don't. I think I know what you're feeling. But listen. I know I have no right to ask you this, but...can I come over? Now?"

"Of course you may! Do you want dinner?"

"I had a very heavy lunch, but maybe later. I'll even help you make it."

"You don't need to."

"But I want to. Text me your address?"

He did, and to her relief the walk took her several blocks out of the way of her own flat, which she didn't want to think about at all right now. It was a beautiful prewar building not unlike her own, and she wasn't surprised to find his flat furnished with mismatching pieces much like Jean-Charles' room, and obviously hastily tidied up when he greeted her at the door. He was also wearing a shirt that looked freshly ironed to her.

"Marie," he said with a sad smile as he ushered her inside.

"Please, let's not talk about it now," Marie said, shrugging off her coat. "Could you just..." the words "hold me?" lingered on her lips, but to her immense gratitude he didn't need to be asked. Without another word, he took her in his arms and she relaxed as best she could in his embrace for some minutes.

"Hungry?" he asked when she finally pulled back.

"Not really. But I'll help with dinner if you are."

"If you want."

"I do. I want to be doing something other than thinking right now."

So Francois set out some vegetables to chop for a stir fry, and Marie set about chopping them all. Occasionally she imagined it was Pete she was attacking with the knife instead of the carrots and parsnips -- how could he lie like that?! -- but mostly she put him from her mind. She'd been in love by herself before, and she knew what dwelling on the little liar would get her.

Francois was a good cook, as she'd already known from the times he'd treated her and Jean-Charles to his handiwork at their place, and his wine gave her back her pleasant buzz from earlier in the day. By the end of the meal, she was feeling so comfortable with him that she sat back on his couch and unbuttoned her jeans. "Sorry!" she said on realizing a moment too late what she had done.

"It is okay, Marie," he grinned. "We have seen each other naked, remember?"

Marie laughed. "Thanks! I needed that!"

"Want to talk about him?"

"Pete or Jean-Charles?"

"Either," Francois said, setting a fresh glass of wine on the coffee table for her.

Marie took a long drink. "It's so absurd, Francois. A week ago he was just a crush. You get over those. I will get over him now, too, but it would have been a lot easier if he'd just told me he was engaged."

"Engaged?!"

"That's what the postcard said. Do you know in all these months he's been in Paris, he's never even mentioned her? Believe me, I would have remembered, at least since November I would have. It would have hurt, but like I said, you get over crushes. But now that we've...been intimate..." She felt the tears welling up again, and made no effort to stop them.

"I'm sorry, Marie! We don't have to talk about it."

"No, no it's fine!" Marie shook her head. "I want to, at least a little bit. It's just...this is why you can't let go of Jean-Charles, too, isn't it? Once you know how great a guy is in bed, it's a lot harder to give up on him even if he deserves it."

"Precisely," Francois said. "Please don't think I have forgotten, we did have a deal."

"Oh, I think you're free from your end of the deal now, Francois!" Marie managed a smile. "I held up my end and look what it got me!"

"But you did it, Marie. You succeeded, even if it ended poorly. I haven't let go yet. I really don't know how."

Marie's eyes lit up for the first time all day. "I have an idea, Francois."

He grinned and looked down at his wine glass. "Oh, Marie, I couldn't ask you to do that!"

"Then I'll ask you, Francois." She stood up, welcoming the knowledge that her jeans were sagging around her hips and her panties and wisps of her bush were on full display. Holding her hands out for him, she asked, "Will you make love to me?"

He took her hands and stood up. "I would love to. But, Marie..."

"No strings attached," she said. "I just think we both need this right now!"

"You are sure?"

Marie nodded, and gave him a tug toward where she guessed -- correctly -- his bedroom was. It was as neat and meticulously decorated as his living room, until Marie kicked off her jeans and set about getting his off as well. Francois pulled her sweatshirt and t-shirt over her head, then took her in a fierce embrace and kissed her hungrily while she unbuttoned all the buttons on his shirt that she could reach. She sat on the edge of his bed and he climbed onto her lap and pulled his shirt off, and for the next several minutes she welcomed his kisses and his tentative touches all over her body. She wondered a time or two if Jean-Charles could kiss like she could, but mostly she just enjoyed having someone else's touch to savor for the moment.

Francois made no attempt to undo Marie's bra for long enough to make her suspect he didn't know how. But when he finally did take the clasp in his hands, it only took one false start before he got it unhooked. "Nicely done!" she whispered as he pulled it gently off. "Now what about these, hmmm?" She drew his hands down to her damp panties, of which she was very eager to be relieved. She propped herself up on her palms, and he slid them off.

Marie lay back on the stack of pillows and spread her legs, and let Francois explore her pussy to his heart's content. His inexperienced fingerplay on her lips and teasing of her hair tickled Marie more than it pleasured her, but she welcomed the sensation. It felt good to laugh after such a horrible day, and the fascinated look on his face was absolutely endearing. "No wonder you like being a bush queen," he said as he wound her thick curls around his fingertips again and again. "So much fun to play with!"

"You have been with a woman before, haven't you?" she asked after several minutes of his gentle probing and stroking.

"Only once. Years ago. And she didn't have vagina hair like yours." He looked up at her face. "Am I taking too long?"

"No! Admire it all you want! Just don't do only that, okay?" She reached down with both hands and parted her vulva, and at last he reached one finger gently inside. "Ohhh, you do know what you're doing!" she sighed as his finger probed her just right.

"I do?"

Marie laughed. "Yes, you do! Don't stop!"

He didn't. Picking up steam and confidence, he rubbed faster and soon had a second finger inside her, and in no time he had her wriggling around in pleasure. "Wait!" she said after a few minutes, trying in vain to hold still. "I want to come with you inside me!"

"You will!" he promised. "But first this!"

Marie gave up trying to fight it, and even reached down to help him find her clit with his thumb. "Just be gentle with this and...oooh!" He was gentle with it, far more so than she'd have ever expected a mostly-gay man to be, and he promptly rubbed her into a loud, cathartic orgasm. "Oh, Francois, lovely!" she said huskily as she caught her breath afterward. She opened her eyes just in time to see him climbing onto her and pushing his way inside. "Ooh!" she squealed as she felt him slide in.

His style was hard and deliberate, nothing like Pete, but Marie welcomed that just now. Anything to set her mind on someone else, anyone else. She welcomed his body banging in hard rhythm against hers, his balls slapping against her, his utterly different style stamping out the beautiful memories she couldn't bear for now. She couldn't make him sing opera the way Jean-Charles did, but he did make her moan and screech cathartically, and he did do well enough for her to come for its own sake. Then she was free to admire his own finale, which was beautiful.

"Lovely, Francois," she said after he collapsed onto her.

"Was I really any good?" he asked her. "Worthy of the bush queen?" he added with a chuckle.

Marie wasn't sure just what he was getting at, but once again she didn't want to talk about it. "You were wonderful," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "What's it like being with a woman for a change?"

"Different," he said. "Nice. And different." He raised his head and looked her in the eye. "Spend the night?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she said, and she threw her arms tightly around him again. There was no forgetting the real reason why she was there, but holding Francois all night was far better than facing it on her own.

Marie did know it was no use to avoid facing the future on her own forever. So in the morning, once she and Francois had showered and dressed together, she declined his offer to stay over for the whole weekend. "We both need to move on, you know," she told him at the door with a kiss goodbye. "We can do this again occasionally if you want, but I think we both know..."

"Yes, we do," Francois agreed. "No more coming every time Jean-Charles snaps his fingers."

"Good for you!" Marie gave him a final affectionate squeeze, and showed herself out.

It was still a gray February morning, and Pete was still gone, and he'd still made a fool of her. But she was feeling just a little bit stronger. And, she decided, she still had a Valentine's Day party to throw. The others didn't know about her and Pete unless Jane had spilled the beans, and either way, she didn't want them feeling sorry for her over this. So the show must go on.

For the next week, when Marie wasn't losing herself in her work, she was tracing and cutting and pasting pink and red and white decorations all over the living room. Jean-Charles said nothing about it, and she said nothing when he mentioned that Francois was very busy all of a sudden. "I wonder if he's met someone?" he said on Tuesday evening as he watched Marie hang cutout hearts from the bookshelf. "I asked him over tonight when my date canceled, but he didn't even answer the phone."

"Sorry to hear that," Marie said. "You guys are so cute together in the bath, sorry I won't get to see that tonight."

"Do you want to join me for a bath when you're done?" Jean-Charles asked.

Marie recalled all too well that the last time she'd shared a bath, it had been with Pete. Best to get that out of her system anyway, and it was no use to try to fall asleep anytime soon. "Sure," she told him. And all through the bath, she played dumb to Jean-Charles' speculation about Francois' new boyfriend.

First thing Wednesday morning, bright and early after another mostly sleepless night, Marie e-mailed out the party invitations. Sifting through her list of local friends, she lingered first on Leonard, but soon decided to invite him -- what was the harm in that? She lingered far longer on Jane, at first barely resisting the temptation to delete her address entirely. Why on earth would she want Jane there? To show her I'm getting on with my life and this hasn't destroyed me, she answered herself. Yes, but what if the bitch brings Sam along? Then you can slam the door in his face and tell Jane why you did it! Satisfied with that option, Marie bit her lip and added Jane to the invite list.

She was prepared for almost any result, but not for the one she did get. Jane was the first to reply "yes" to the invitation, with an added note: "I can't wait to have this behind us, Marie!"

Can't wait to have what behind us? Marie had no idea, but what was done was done.

She bought a beautiful red and white print dress for the occasion -- seasonally inappropriate, but Marie didn't care a bit -- and landed a last-minute appointment at the hairdresser on Saturday. Quite by design, as the party approached, she was too busy getting dolled up and making last minute preparations to dwell on the thorny matter of what to expect if Jane did show up. It was only when the zero hour finally arrived, with the music playing and the punch and snacks on the table, that she had any time to get nervous.

The party started the way all parties start for the one throwing them, with no one arriving right away and the hostess worried that it would stay that way. Even Jean-Charles was absent, having opted to take his latest conquest out for a pre-party round of martinis somewhere. So Marie, swathed in her new dress, bathed in the dim red light and the warm glow of the mellow music on the stereo, hair and nails and makeup all perfect, found herself gazing out the window and trying to convince herself she didn't desperately wish Pete were there. Would it really be so bad if no one else did show up, given that he definitely wouldn't? None of the gang would need to know how pathetic it all was; they'd know she had tried and they wouldn't realize they weren't the only ones with better things to do than come to her silly party!

The first fashionably-late knock on the door came only twenty minutes or so later, and in that moment Marie's pity party was over. She put on a brave face and welcomed Cathy and Mark into "my lair of love," as she called it over her shoulder while stowing their coats in her bedroom.

"Marie, the place looks amazing," Cathy said. When Marie appeared in the living room doorway, she added, "And so do you."

"Thank you!" Marie said, also admiring them both in the dressiest clothes she'd ever seen either of them wearing.

"We've missed you at the pub," Mark said. "But it looks like you had a good reason to be absent, setting all this up."

"Well...thanks." Marie was desperately curious -- did they think that was the only reason they hadn't seen her at the pub?

"Yeah, with you and Jane both gone, I guess it's a whole new group, huh?" Cathy said.

Now Marie couldn't help herself. "Jane hasn't been by either, has she?"

Cathy started to answer, but was interrupted by a knock at the door, so she only shook her head as Marie turned to welcome the next guest.

It was Leonard, looking sharp in a pinstripe suit. "Salut, Marie," he said, and he kissed her hand. "Thank you for inviting me. I hope we can be friends now."

"I don't see why not, and welcome," Marie said. "Nice suit."

"Nice dress." But he admired her only with the same sort of look Cathy had given her a few minutes before. All at once Marie knew what that meant, and why it hadn't worked out between them. How could she not have seen that?

But there was no chance to ask Leonard about that or anything else. By the time she had put his overcoat in her room, he was helping himself to punch and chatting up Cathy and Mark and there was another knock at the door to answer. This time it was a client and his wife, whom Marie hadn't met before, and they came bearing a bottle of champagne. They insisted on treating Marie to the first glass, which was delightful, and the party was on in earnest. Daniel and Alexandra arrived together not long afterward, neither of them bearing any hint of what Marie had been through to her relief. Next Jean-Charles came home with his date, a banker named Mattieu, which freed Marie up from always having to answer the door herself. So soon she was pleasantly unaware of exactly who was and wasn't there.

As the crowd swelled and the champagne and punch lowered her guard, Marie finally got up the nerve to ask Cathy what she'd wanted to before. Conveniently, Alexandra was in earshot as well when Marie asked, "So, you haven't heard from Jane either lately, have you?"

"Heard from her yes, she just hasn't been coming to the pub," Cathy said.

"Yeah, she's been having an awful time of it I guess," Alexandra added, joining them in the corner. "You'll have heard she and Sam broke up, of course."

"No!" Marie didn't even try to look anything but happy about that. "I hadn't heard!"

"Something about violating someone else's privacy," Cathy explained. "James overheard her yelling at him on the phone last time he saw her. None of us know just what it was, but she was furious at him."

"And of course she lost Pete at work, too, poor thing," Alexandra added.

Marie was very proud of herself for only smiling and nodding through that. But nothing could have prepared her for Cathy's response.