Learning Curves 1 - French Cooking 101 (7 page)

What she had been able to ascertain, however, was that Peter had not paid attention to what Ariane was
saying
.
 
Every single time Mary looked in her brother’s direction, he was staring at Ariane. Nevertheless, after dinner, he didn’t linger, and he left with Mary to walk back to their hotel. Mary made them take the longer route that George had shown her yesterday for Peter to get a chance to look at the scenery. As usual, he seemed totally oblivious to his surroundings.

“I’m meeting George at his place later on,” Mary said as they walked along the river. She waited a bit, and when she realized Peter had probably not even heard her, she took his arm and whispered, “Earth to Peter, Earth to Peter, do you copy?”

Peter’s brain came back to earth, and he laughed. “Yes. What?”

“Anything the matter? You seem preoccupied.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m thinking about not teaching next term and spending this summer here, in Paris, instead. I’m trying to understand all the consequences of such a decision.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Mary asked, just to make sure she had the right answer.
 

“Because of Ariane. But you knew that already, right?”

“I suspected you had a major crush, but I didn’t think you would try to do anything more than make a pass at her. Wanna talk about it?”

“Yes. I have questions for you. Why were you willing to try out something with George after knowing him for a couple of hours? Why won’t she do the same with me? I’m not judging either one of you. I’m interested in your thought process so that I can hope to change hers.”

“You intellectual, you,” said Mary in a mocking tone. “I’m not sure it’s a deliberate or developed process. Well, at least for me it’s not. If I gave it some thought, it was a quick internal dialogue. Something like, ‘Wow he’s hot, and he wants me. Let’s go for it.’”

“That’s it?” Peter looked so flabbergasted, Mary thought it was funny. Instead of making fun of him, she gave him more information.

“Yes, that’s about it. But then, I’m in a different frame of mine than Ariane. I’m on vacation celebrating my birthday. Forty is a big one. You get a bit wiser, or so you’d like to think. You enjoy anything positive that life throws at you because you never know what’s going to hit you next. Ariane’s younger so she’s probably not in that frame of mind. She could also have some baggage… You know, there’re a lot of jerks around.” Mary paused to find a way to express what she felt. “I’m away from my real life for a week. George is like … an adventure, a local curiosity, an exotic treat I’m enjoying during my trip. Would I like it to become more? I’m certainly open to the idea. It’s a possibility, but I’ll be okay if it doesn’t turn into anything more than a good time in Paris. Because I’m out of my natural habitat, so to speak, I can totally enjoy the present without investing myself in possible futures.”

“I see.”

“When I’m home, at work, in my real life, I’m in a totally different frame of mind. If I really like a man I met at work or at a party, I exercise much more impulse control. I don’t jump into bed the first night no matter how much I want to. I think it out. At home, it has consequences. Even if it doesn’t last, it will impact my daily life.”

“Thank you, that helps.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Mary watched Peter process what she’d told him.

“Do you realize Ariane is the first woman I’ve actually noticed and wanted since Kristina?” he finally asked.

“Oh yes, I’m very much aware of that.”

“So nothing’s happened yet. Well, I kissed her. Once. Just once, and in my mind, it’s already more than a holiday crush or a quick fling.”

Knowing her brother was using her as a sounding board, Mary made a non-committal sound.

“She pushed me away because I’m just here for a week. Assuming that is really the only obstacle, I asked myself how I could overcome it. You know the way I think, always analytical. I realized I could skip teaching the summer term. It would give us a couple of months. I asked Ariane, ‘What if there was more time?’ She said she would give us a chance.”
   

“So you’re going to do it?”

“I’m going to sleep on it and tell you more tomorrow.”
 

They walked in silence for a while before Mary asked, “You don’t mind my abandoning you again tonight?”

“Oh no, not at all. I’ll barely notice you’re gone. I’ll read papers and go to sleep. I want you to be happy, so you need to go enjoy the birthday present the city has in store for you. Go find out if it’s just a fling or the beginning of a great love story.”

❦

Coming down from her room to the hotel lobby, Mary wondered about the future of her—she couldn’t think of the proper word—her “thing” with George. She scolded herself. Damn her brother and his analytical mind. She wasn’t going to overthink it. If it was only the best sex she’d ever had, so be it. She would savor that for as long as she could. If her heart got a bit shaken in the process, that was ok. She had a strong heart. It had already been tested a few times and would survive a new blow. She sat on the lobby couch for a minute. She had come down early.

“A penny for your thoughts?” George said, sitting next to her. He was early as well.

“Oh no, my thoughts are worth a lot more than that,” she answered with her best bedroom voice. Putting her overnight bag on his knees, she used it as a screen as she pressed her other hand on his crotch. She let it rest there for the five seconds he took to go from limp to rock solid. Was there was a world record for getting an erection? She stood and asked, “Shall we go?”

With slightly dilated pupils, George stood and walked with Mary, holding her bag in front of him to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. She observed him from the corner of her eye while trying to look perfectly innocent. They walked to the taxi stand on the street corner.
 

As George held the taxi door for her, he whispered through clenched teeth, “You have no idea what you just got yourself into.”

Mary’s heart skipped a beat, but she just smiled sweetly. She was very good at keeping a straight face. She’d learned that the hard way in the delivery room. The more dangerous the situation, the calmer she had to appear. So actually, the challenge was fun! She waited for him to sit in the car with the bag on his knees. Then she put a hand on his thigh—very high up his leg. “You’re right, I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.
 
I would love for you to tell me about it here, but before you do, I suggest you check if the driver speaks English or not. We wouldn’t want to distract him and cause an accident, right?”

❦

GEORGE GAVE HIS ADDRESS to the driver in his heavily accented French, and the man answered in English. He was a Tamil, and his English was accented but fluent. Probably better than George’s French. So much for telling Mary what he planned to do to her once they were home. Too bad. He would have loved to see how long she could remain impassive while he talked. Oh man, the woman was driving him nuts. She could put on a holier-than-thou look while playing with him. It was a definite turn-on. If she wanted to play games, he wouldn’t let her down.

So while having a conversation with the taxi driver about the latest political developments in Sri Lanka and the ethnical conflicts that tore apart his country, George showed Mary he could play too. Sliding his right hand under her skirt, he tugged at her panties. She obliged by lifting her hips long enough for him to bring the panties down to her knees. She did that while looking straight ahead as if she was doing nothing more than enjoying the Paris scenery through the window of the taxi.

She remained calm as his hand slowly crawled back up. When he almost reached the apex of her legs, she shook her knees to make her panties fall to her ankles and gain some freedom of movement. That left him enough room to move farther up to the moist curls between her thighs. A gentle stroke, and he noticed an increase in the speed of her breathing. A soft pressure of a finger into the sensitive crease, and she held her breath. He explored further, and she let out a little moan.
 

The driver didn’t notice. He was rambling about what he considered to be the wrongful interference of the Buddhist Monks. His mind was back home, thousands of miles away from the foreplay in his backseat. George realized his building was right around the corner. His experiment had to stop. He withdrew his hand from under her skirt.
 

Noticing the disappointed look on Mary’s face, he said, “We’re almost home.” He picked up her underwear from the taxi floor, rolled the beige lace in a small ball, and put it in his pocket. He paid the taxi and helped her get out.
 

Giving her his keys, he said, “I have an errand to run. Would you please wait for me upstairs?”

Mary raised her eyebrows and asked, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope, can’t wait. We’re out. We need a fresh box,” he said with a chuckle.
 

“Oh, right. A fresh box it is.” She held her skirt down as the breeze got a little stronger. Turning around to enter the building, she added for his ears only, “Though I enjoyed how creative you became last night after we ran out.”
 

❦

Walking back from the corner pharmacy that closed at ten p.m., an amazing exception to the customary six or seven p.m. closing time of all shops in Paris, George tried to analyze how he felt about Mary. Obviously, he was attracted to her. His immediate physical reaction to her first touch had made that clear. What he found fascinating was that, in about twenty-four hours, his brain had caught up with his body.
 

He really liked her. He liked the way she made everything seem uncomplicated. He liked the way she communicated with him. Whether it was with words, sounds, or movements, she made him understand what she wanted and how she felt. Somehow, that gave him confidence that their few days together could be the beginning of something serious. He had little time to test his theory, so few days for her to be his only work-in-progress, until Monday morning.

Reaching his landing, he realized she had left the door slightly ajar. He walked in, slammed the door shut, and found her naked, lying on her stomach on his bed, reading one of his earlier books—the one on the life of Mary Stuart.

“So I’m not the first Mary in your life,” she said without turning her head away from the book. “I’ve always liked her. Such a tragic life. I like your style.”
 

“I certainly hope so.” He chuckled as he removed his clothes.

“I was talking about your writing style,” she answered, laughing. “I thought you’d appreciate knowing that I consider you more than a warm body.”

“Warm body?” He drew each syllable out in mock anger. “Just a warm body!”
 

She turned around and watched him, naked and fighting with the box of condoms. The plastic wrapper put up a valiant resistance, but it wouldn’t last long. “Okay, let’s say a very hot body.”

“Uh uh, that’s better, but not even close to what I want you to think.” He smirked as the box blew open and condoms flew out in every direction.
 

Mary caught one, tore open the foil, and with a poker face, she asked, “What adjective would fit your gigantic ego? Sizzling? Amazing?”

“That’s starting to sound a bit better.” George lay down beside her.

Mary bent over to roll the latex down on his manhood. It had stood erect since the second he walked in and saw her naked on his bed. She looked at his face. “I could be talked into using more laudative adjectives if you convince me that last night was not an unusual performance. You know, the thrill of the first time and all.”

With a deep rumble, he said, “I think that can be arranged.” He pushed her onto her back and found his way between her legs. Resisting the urge to dive in right away, he took things slow. He nibbled each breast until they pebbled and turned a gentle pink and then a redder hue. With a trail of kisses, he went down to her belly button.
 

Making soothing sounds, he pushed down on her hips when she raised her lower body to meet him. He kissed and licked the inside of her thighs, getting closer to her folds every time but never reaching them. Only when moans of frustration escaped her lips did he taste her. Her moans turned to whimpers and then to sobs. The sounds she made made him feel powerful, almost invincible, as if he could achieve anything he set his mind to.
 

What he wanted was for her to create new words to describe how he made her feel. He wanted to inspire her. He let her desire build. Resisting the urge to plunge into her was getting harder by the minute. He gave in when she pulled his face up to hers, almost tearing two fistfuls of hair from his skull.
 

She only stopped chanting “Please, please, please” when he plunged into her. He rested the weight of his upper body on his arms for fear of crushing her. He felt her inner walls clutching him. He lost all pretense of control when she pulled his shoulders down against her, saying with ragged breath, “Hold me tight. I’m not fragile. You won’t hurt me.”
 

With each thrust of his hips, she took in more of him, and it was pure heaven. She shuddered and called out his name while she wrapped her legs around him in a final spasm. He roared, again, before collapsing onto her.
So much for being the silent type,
he thought, amused by the change she wrought in him without making any demands. He rolled to his side, taking her with him. She rested her head on his shoulder.
 

When her breathing returned to normal, she said, “What about ‘fantabulous’?”

“That sounds about right. Making love to you does make me feel fantabulous.”

❦

ARIANE OPENED THE CURTAINS OF her workshop very early on Sunday morning. She opened the door to let in some fresh air. The workshop smelled like an over-chlorinated indoor pool thanks to Inès. She had come late on Saturday night when Ariane was already fast asleep.