Paris Winter

'So, did you come out here to follow in Hemmingway's footsteps?' She asked.

'Probably. I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and as I said, all my plans were going just as I had wanted.'

'Have you met anyone since you arrived?'

'A few guys who drink around here, and I'm friendly with the old man who lives above me. Truthfully, I came here to write, and I've been fairly well disciplined.'

'I meant have you met anyone special. A girl?'

I shook my head. 'You're the first girl I've spoken to that hasn't worked in a Patisserie or a bar since I've been here.' I paused. 'Well, except for an argument I had with my psychotic neighbour after she woke me up with the sounds of her beating her boyfriend.'

Virginie laughed. 'Excuse me?'

'Doesn't matter,' I said, laughing also. 'Let's just say that I don't live in the most luxurious building in Paris, and my neighbours seem to fit in pretty well.'

'Maybe that's the answer then. Maybe you need to meet someone special.' She lowered her fork to her plate and then placed her hand over mine, squeezed gently. Her fingers were small and soft, the nails neat and unpainted. I looked up directly into her dark eyes. There was a knot of excitement in my stomach.

'Perhaps I do,' I replied in a low voice, my hand curling around hers.

After working our way through another round of beers and a slice of thick, almost obscenely rich chocolate tart, we left Marion. If anything, the wind had grown colder, especially in contrast to the heat of the bar, and as we walked quickly along the street I had to clamp my mouth shut to stop my teeth from chattering. Virginie held tightly onto my arm and stayed close to me, leaning against my body to shield herself from the wind.

'What are you doing for the rest of the day?' She inquired, raising her voice against the howl of the wind and the rushing of the traffic.

'I don't intend to walk around outside for much longer, I said. We had reached the corner of the street that led onto my own, and I stopped walking and pulled her towards the wall of the bank that stood proudly at the intersection.

'This is me,' I said. 'My place is just down here.'

She peered at the crumbling turn-of-the-century buildings that lined my street, and smiled. 'This figures. This is just the kind of building I would have expected.'

'I don't want to disappoint.'

'You haven't so far.' She smiled again and grasped hold of my hand. 'If you've got heat and coffee in that place, James, I'm yours for the afternoon. I'd like to see your work, too.'

It was a true surprise to see that someone had fixed the elevator, and we rode slowly up to the third floor. The mechanism coughed and hitched once or twice, and I felt sure that we would be trapped in the small cage for the rest of the day. However, with this beautiful woman next to me that might not have been such a bad thing.

As we approached my door I heard my neighbours at war again. There was a loud shout, followed by the sound of glass breaking, and the door was flung open and the woman stormed out. As usual, her hair looked almost painfully scraped away from her face and her eyes flashed like lightning storms. She glared at us as she passed, and I was delighted to see that Virginie glared right back.

'That's the psycho?' she whispered.

I nodded, watching as she stomped away toward the lobby.

'Do you think her partner is Okay?'

'I hope so. I can't say I've ever seen him. Maybe he likes the abuse.'

I turned the key in the lock of my own battered front door and pushed it open, leaving space for Virginie to enter first. Mercifully the heat was working, and the room seemed to glow with welcome. I took her coat and hung it carefully on the only hook on the back of the door, and threw my own jacket across the back of the couch. Before we had entered the building I'd bought coffee and fresh milk from the Patisserie downstairs, and I made my way to the kitchen and got the kettle on the boil while Virginie cast her gaze around the room.

'It is good here,' she said, moving towards the windows. 'Good light.'

I shook my head in agreement, carefully spooning coffee beans into the machine. 'It's basic, but I do like it. Have a look at the rest of the place, it won't take long.'

It felt good to have someone in the apartment with me. Since I had arrived in Paris the only eyes to have seen it apart from my own were the landlord and the postman, and that was only a handful of times. As I said before, I had deliberately avoided making friends here, so as to concentrate fully on my work, and I guess if I had thought long and hard about it I would have realised that I was possibly lonely. I spoke to friends and family back in England, but that wasn't the same as having them to hand as and when I needed them.

'It's very charming,' said Virginie as we moved from the living room to the bedroom.

'You mean scruffy?'

'What is scruffy?'

'You know, old. Untidy.'

She nodded. 'Non, it is good. I like it.'

It was only then that I realised I'd been holding her hand as we walked from room to room. Her skin was smooth against mine, and her fingers were interlaced with my own. She marvelled at the bathroom, which really is the only impressive part of the place, with walls painted a deep red and a skylight high in place above the, as I have already described, huge bathtub.

'I bet you have had many girls in here,' she said.

I let out a small laugh at her forthright question, but before I could summon up a smart enough reply she turned to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my face down to her own. I could feel my heart beating, and felt sure she would too, as we kissed, our mouths slightly apart and our tongues barely touching. When we parted a tiny strand of saliva broke between us.

'What was that for,' I said, my face inches away from her own.

'You didn't like?'

'I liked very much, it was unexpected, that's all.'

She kissed me lightly again. 'Come on, let's get some coffee and you can show me what it is that you write.'

Back in the living room I got the mugs and started to pour the dark coffee and cream while Virginie stood looking over my desk at the various sheets of manuscript that were arranged there. Although I'd had a good feeling back a the bar that something was passing between us, especially when we were holding hands, I can truthfully say that her kiss took me completely by surprise. It had been months since I'd been close to someone and I had forgot how good a single kiss could make you feel. Looking across at Virginie as I stirred the drinks, taking in the soft curves of her slender body and the tumbling tresses of black hair, I hoped that the moment would be repeated.

'Is this the book?' she asked, as I crossed to the desk and placed the mugs on a sheet of paper near the edge of the desktop. She brushed her hand across my leather bound notebook that was open to reveal my spidery handwriting.

'No, that's just my diary,' I said, sitting in the chair and opening the screen of the laptop. 'My real work is inside here.'

I powered the computer up and loaded the files for my novel. This was the first time that I had shown it to anyone except for my agent, and usually I never revealed anything to anyone until the project was completed. However, that afternoon, Virginie crouching next to me and the air filled with her scent and the aroma of good coffee, I finally let my defences down.

The first chapter filled the screen and she bent closer to read it.

'Have this chair,' I said, starting to rise, and she placed a gentle but firm hand upon my shoulder and pushed me back down. Before I could protest she moved between my open legs and sat down on me, her bottom resting mostly on my left thigh and a little way on my crotch. She looked over her shoulder at me.

'I'll just sit here if I'm not to heavy for you.'

'Of course you're not,' I replied, shifting slightly in my seat to get a little more comfortable. 'That is, as long as you don't mind me putting my arm around you?' She shook her head and turned back to the screen, and I slid my left hand around her waist, the soft wool on her sweater crackling slightly to my touch as I did so. Virginie leant back against me as she started to read, and I slowly caressed her stomach with my fingers and rested my chin on her shoulder, seeing again the words that I had read so many times and breathing in the clean fragrance of her hair.

She moved her body forward to access another page, and I slipped my other arm around her and hugged her back towards me. We stayed that way for a few minutes, Virginie reading in silence as I enjoyed the feeling of her and hoped that she approved of what she saw.

Once more she turned her face towards mine. 'You didn't say there was sex in this?' She grinned.

I gave her a sheepish look. 'A little maybe. Nothing too gratuitous.' As I said this she turned back to continue reading, but raised her arm and lightly stroked the back of my neck while pressing herself into me. Her rear pushed down further onto my crotch and I could feel the beginnings of an erection. I lowered my head and kissed the exposed skin of her neck that peeked through her hair, and let my hands roam across her stomach further. Her skin tasted sweet, and I grazed it with my teeth gently, causing her to gasp.

'You're distracting me from the book,' she muttered, but her hand still touched my hair.

'Shall I stop?' I said, giving her another playful bite.

'I didn't say that.'

I fingered the button at the base of her sweater. 'Are you still reading the sexual part?' I said, and when she nodded her reply I continued, 'why don't you read it aloud so I can hear it?'

I resumed the kissing of her neck as Virginie began to read my words, bringing life into the printed page. My two characters were having an erotic encounter at the edge of some woodland, and I had described their coupling quite graphically. When I'd written the scene I'd thought it was fairly arousing, but now, with Virginie's French accent breathing the words into my ear, it had taken on an incredible sexuality.

As she read, I slowly started to unclasp the buttons on her sweater, working my way up from the bottom of the garment. I fingers rose up over the swell of her breasts, and by the time I popped the last button she had almost ceased to read, and her breath came in a more hurried manner. My eyes had been closed as I listened to her voice, but I opened them as I spread her sweater wide, exposing her small breasts which were secured by a white, lace trimmed bra. I draw my fingers up the bare skin of her tummy, and when I cupped her breasts in my hands, hard nipples pushing through the thin cotton, she laid her head back fully against my shoulder. My erection was full, pushing into her bottom, and as I caressed her nipples, slipping first one then the other over the edges of the bra, she began to rub herself against my hard penis.

Virginie turned her head, and we kissed deeply, tongues pushing urgently against each other, licking around each other's mouths. I unfastened the clasp of her bra, and pulled both it and the sweater away from her body, before taking her soft breasts into my hands once more, delighting in the touch of her nipples against my palms. I started to creep one of my hands lower, across her stomach and down onto her thigh, and as I did so she opened her legs in anticipation, all the while rubbing her behind harder and harder into me. She was wearing grey trousers that showed her legs off beautifully, and I ran my hand up over her knee and onto her inner thigh. Virginie turned and we kissed even harder as I pushed my hand softly between her legs, and even through her trousers I could feel the heat that was coming from her body. I flattened my palm and pushed against her, rubbing her while forcing her bottom up and down onto me, causing both of our gasps to fill the room and compete against the sound of the rain lashing the window.

And then she was gone, if only briefly, as she stood and turned to face me, before sliding back down onto my lap and locking her mouth to mine once more. I raked my nails down the skin of her back, feeling perspiration, and I pulled her away, gazing at her gorgeous breasts before dropping my head and taking a nipple in my mouth, nibbling with my teeth, brushing it with my tongue.

'Oh my God,' Virginie moaned, 'let us make love right here.'

I released her nipple and glanced at the large window that we were positioned directly infront of. Although the third floor was obviously not visible to the busy street, there were buildings opposite that had a good view of my apartment. Anyone could see us if they cared to look, but right now I was to turned on to care.

We both stood, undressing each other quickly, and in a few moments we were both naked. Virginie pushed me back down into my chair, straddled me once again and wrapped her arms around my neck. Our eyes remained locked on each other as she lowered herself onto me, and first I felt her nipples brush the hair of my chest before my penis sank slowly and deeply inside her hot vagina. I felt my whole body shudder with the pleasure of this beautiful woman on me, and I closed my eyes and grasped her tightly, not moving, only savouring the tightness of her inner body. Virginie started to lick my ear, and gradually we began rocking back and forth against one another, a small movement that caused awesome sensations for the two of us.

We made love by the window for almost an hour, sweat running from our skins, unconcerned if the rest of the city were crowded around the windows of the other buildings watching us. Virginie bit into my neck as she reached her orgasm, almost drawing blood on my skin, which caused me to cry out and grab her writhing buttocks firmly in my hands. I slammed her body down onto me, and then my own orgasm hit hard, my semen pumping into her again and again, my breath hot and almost agonised against the smoothness of her flushed face.

She raised her head and looked at me, breathing hard and eyes shining, and we both started to giggle. The giggle turned into a laugh, and we may have laughed the rest of the afternoon away if I had not stopped it by kissing her once more, before asking her to stay for the rest of the day.

'I love the stars. They always seem so peaceful.'

'Peaceful? That's a good way to describe them,' I replied.

She sighed. 'They look down on us from light years away, millions of years old. Some that we see are not even there anymore.'

'A friend of mine once used to say that when someone dies, they become a star. I always liked the idea of that.'

'Yes, that's a beautiful idea,' she said, and then paused, let a a small sigh. 'Do you think that just applies to people?'

I closed my eyes and scolded myself inwardly. I'd forgotten that when I'd first met Virginie earlier that day down by the river she had been upset due to the loss of her dog.

'I'm sure it applies to everyone, honey,' I said quietly, kissing her wet hair that lay against my face. 'I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking when I said that.'

She gripped my hand tighter in her own, sending ripples shooting out across the water. 'Don't be silly. With that thought I can name a star after him.'

We lay quietly for a few minutes, Virginie leaning back against me as the hot water of the bath washed around us, and both watched the Parisian night sky drift slowly past the skylight. The room was a dim glow due to the candles I'd lit, and the soft light bouncing off the dark walls combined with the wine that we had both drunk was starting to make me feel tired. I picked the soap up from the tray and lathered it in my hands, then began to wash Virginie's shoulders, massaging my fingers into her soft skin before moving down to her breasts. In the distance I heard the clock strike seven.

'Do you want to go and eat?' I said, working the lather around her pink nipples that stood proudly from the water.

'I'm fine, unless you want to,' she replied. 'Anyway, I feel like a big lazy cat lying here. I don't think I ever want to get out.' She stretched her lean body, and I felt myself begin to grow hard once again. Virginie felt it too, and reached a hand down under the water, taking my testicles in her hand and stroking them gently, before sliding her fingers up and down my shaft. I ran my own hand down through her dark, matted pubic hair and slid a finger into her, encountering a wetness that wasn't from the water.

Above us, tens of thousands of miles away, the moon coasted into the range of the skylight, and an almost ghostly glow filled the bathroom, illuminating our wet skins as we became one again.

I awoke from the depths of sleep to find hot shafts of sunlight pouring across the bed. The rain and winter weather appeared to have lost it's grip on the city for the time, and I could even hear the faint calling of gulls through the partially opened window. I stretched my hand across the bed to touch her body, to wake her and show her the morning, but I found nothing except an expanse of cool sheet.

I sat up and stared dumbly at the bed for a moment, as if Virginie would somehow materialise infront of me. My voice sounded loud and lonely when I called her name, and I listened closely for the sounds of her in the bathroom or living room, but there was nothing except for silence.

Had I dreamed of her? My legs felt shaky and my body stiff as I clambered from the bed to use the bathroom, and as I urinated I saw a pile of towels on the tiles, from where I remembered the two of us drying each other after we had finally left the comforting water. A dream? No. This was too real to be anything but reality.

Naked, I walked into the living room. Her clothes were gone from where they had lay strewn around my desk, and my own jacket was now replaced neatly on the peg behind the front door. A feeling of sadness came to me; had she just upped and left without saying goodbye? That didn't seem like her at all. We had lain in bed talking deep into the night, discussing our families and friends, very intimate things, and by the time I'd fallen asleep with Virginie cradled in my arms I had begun to sense the onset of real feelings for her.

I thumbed the switch on the kettle for hot water, and crossed over to the desk to collect the mugs that we had left there last night. The coffee was still there, cold and untasted, forgotten about as passion overcame us. The powerbook lay closed on the desk, and on top of it was a note, written in a fine, elegant script which made my own handwriting look like the work of a five-year old. I picked up the sheet of paper and read:

Had an early appointment this morning, didn't want to wake you. You look so peaceful when you are asleep. Yesterday was wonderful. I hope that our day has given you something to write about. Please call me later. My love, Virginie.

Her telephone number was written underneath her name. I read the note a second time and smiled broadly before placing it carefully back next to the computer. The whistle of the kettle filled the kitchen, and I made myself coffee and returned to sit at my desk, before folding the screen of the laptop open and firing it into life. The screen hummed and glowed a faint blue as I loaded up the last chapter that I'd been working on, a chapter that had not seen new words added to it for the last few days. My fingers hovered expectantly over the keyboard, poised for action.

Outside, the traffic was already moving. In the apartment, the water pipes were groaning like a wounded man. Through my front door and across the hall, I could already hear the neighbours from hell gearing up for another battle.

And later that day, somewhere in the city of Paris, Virginie would be expecting my call.

My hands dropped to laptop and began to type. Steadily, consciously, continuously.