The Temptress (8 page)

Lulu

Six
Years Ago

‘Just ring him, if you won’t, I will for you,’
ordered Coco, as she lay on her front, on top of my bed, kicking her heels up,
as I turned the card from corner to corner in my fingers.

‘It’s crazy, he’s obviously a man whore with all
the chat up lines.’

‘Man whore equals practice, practice equals
skills, skills equals a
crazy
night of pleasure,’ called Phoebe from the
bathroom, before the sound of her retching again forced Coco to go and shut her
in with a roll of her eyes.

‘She’s never been able to hold her drink, but
she raises a very valid point,’ she confirmed, as she bounced back onto the bed
beside me.

‘We’re on her hen weekend, I can’t ditch you
for potentially hot crazy sex,’ I protested.

‘Like she’d think twice if the Choo was on the
other foot,’ scoffed Coco. ‘It will do us good, sister hang out time, I’m
always too busy with you and Dom, I think she misses me.’

‘You’re an easy person to miss, Coco Barrella,’
I smiled.

‘Aren’t I?’ she beamed. ‘Stop stalling, it’s a crisp,
clear, sunny January day, ripe for romance in Paris, call him. He can be your
Parisian fling, remind you how good sex can be and get you back in the saddle
for when you get home.’

I bit my lip as I stared at the card again. I’d
never had a one night stand, maybe it was time to break out of the mould, live
on the edge, after all it wasn’t like I was ever going to see the guy again and
it would give me something to look back on with a smile, when I returned to
England and my more reserved persona. Everyone had to go a little crazy in their
lives, to have something to look back on and say
that
was the moment I
truly lived, maybe this was my chance. Coco squealed with delight as I reached
over to grab the hotel phone, took a deep breath and dialled his number.

‘Allo?’ came a sexy French male voice after the
third ring. Shit, was I supposed to speak in French, in case it wasn’t Luc? I
was rusty.

‘Ermmm, Bonjour, c’est Lulu pour Luc,’ I
offered, grimacing at Coco for my awful accent.

‘Lulu, you called, did I not tell you that you
would?’ he purred.

‘I can also hang up if you’re going to rub my
face in it.’

‘Rub your face? What would I be rubbing your
face in?’ he asked, sounding confused. Maybe it was just an English expression.

‘Never mind. I called to say that against my
better judgement, after your cocky behaviour last night, I decided to give you
the benefit of the doubt, so if you still want to spend the day together, I’m
free.’

‘I do not make offers that I am unprepared to
follow through on,’ he replied seriously, with me stifling a giggle over him
using the phrase follow through. ‘It is quarter past nine now, how soon can you
be ready?’

‘Ten o’clock,’ I suggested, my heart fluttering
excitedly at the thought of seeing him again.

‘Bon. You know Paris?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then I shall come to you. Tell me, what hotel are
you staying in?’ he asked. I hesitated for a moment, but it was our last night
here tonight, what harm could it do to tell him? It wasn’t like he knew my room
number.

‘The Domville,’ I replied. ‘Near the Jardins du
Trocadéro. Do you know it?’

‘I do, you are a lady with expensive tastes. I
will be waiting in the lobby at ten o’clock, ma belle. Dress warm, it is sunny,
but there is a chill in the air. I do not want you catching a cold.’

‘Thank you for being so considerate, you’ve surprised
me already.’

‘Trust me, I am full of surprises,’ he replied
and I could sense his smile over the phone. ‘À bientôt, see you soon, Lulu.’

‘See you soon, Luc,’ I breathed, closing my
eyes as I luxuriated in the way my name sounded on his lips.

‘You are going to hang up then, oui?’ he
chuckled.

‘You haven’t hung up either,’ I laughed.

‘I am waiting for the lady to hang up first.’

‘I’m a modern woman, maybe it’s chivalrous for
the man to hang up first.’

‘Non, you hang up first.’

‘You hang up first,’ I insisted.

‘Non, you …’ I stared at Coco, stunned as the
phone went dead, to see her hand pressing the base unit, terminating the call.

‘There, I hung up, we’d have been here all
day,’ she grinned. ‘Now instead of wasting time you can get ready. I’m so
excited.’

I looked down at my outfit as I got into the
lift, it wasn’t like I had a lot of choice, given we were only here for two
days and nights and we’d packed light. I had on a pair of tight black jeans,
black riding boots, that were comfortable to walk in, a white shirt that hung
over my jeans, with a black belt over the top, showing off my waist and my
cream wool swing coat that stopped mid-thigh. I’d left my freshly washed, thick
hair tumbling around my shoulders and had gone for a touch of tinted
moisturiser, lashings of black mascara, a hint of pink blusher and some nude
lipstick. Given I only had a choice of my sexy black lingerie to wear under my
going out dress, or my comfort knickers for the flight home, I’d had to put on
the sexy stuff. Just in case. I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about taking
him up on his offer of sex yet, but showing him my comfy knickers, that I
usually reserved for when I had my periods, wouldn’t be a good opener. Thankfully
I’d been to the beauticians for my usual mani-pedi and wax earlier in the week,
I was looking as good as I possibly could.
Just in case
. I looked up at
the shiny gold ceiling of the lift, who was I kidding with “just in case,” I
wanted Luc between my thighs, living up to all of his promises, right now. But
I wasn’t going to make it easy for him, he’d have to work for it. I didn’t want
him thinking I was some British slapper who dropped her knickers at the hint of
any
kind of French action, be it kissing or the heavy stuff.

I stepped out of the lift and made my way
across the vast lobby, looking left and right, wondering if I’d recognise him
again, and halted in my tracks as our eyes met. I gulped, in the brighter light
of the hotel lobby, his features seemed even more pronounced, he had to be the
best looking man to ever walk the face of the earth. Judging by the approving
looks he was getting, I wasn’t the only woman to think it either. He was
looking as French as all those stereotypical images we were brought up on in
England, minus the bike between his legs and the garlic or onions around his
neck. He had on a dark blue pair of jeans, a white shirt under a blue v-neck
sweater, with a thick and expensive looking navy wool Breton coat, which he’d
left open so he could tuck his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. A
flat navy cap, placed at a cheeky jaunty angle, graced his head, but instead of
trainers, like most guys of his age, he was wearing a highly polished pair of
brown brogues. When I said
his age,
I actually had no idea. I’d estimate
him to be a couple of years older than me, maybe twenty-seven or eight. I saw
his lips curving up into a smile and blushed as I realised I was staring,
rooted to the spot. He started walking towards me, as I willed my feet to move,
barely making it a few steps before he’d narrowed the gap and placed a hand in
the small of my back, as he leaned in. I took in a sharp breath, wondering if
he was going to kiss me, the way he’d kissed me up against that wall last
night.

‘Breathe, Lulu, I told you that I’d be
respectful today,’ he chuckled, as he kissed me on each cheek, twice, as I
closed my eyes and breathed him in, my stomach fluttering and heart beating far
too fast. ‘You look even more beautiful in daylight, I cannot wait to see how
the sun of the outdoors enhances those hypnotic eyes of yours. Are you ready?
Where are your accessories?’

‘Accessories?’ I queried, still reeling from
the touch of his lips on my cheek and hearing him call me beautiful, as he
straightened up to run his eyes over my attire. He was taller than I’d thought,
then again I had heels on last night, these boots were flat.

‘Hat, scarf, gloves?’ he frowned. ‘We are in
Paris in January, the sun is deceptive.’

‘I don’t have any,’ I replied, feeling like I
was standing in front of the headmaster, being chastised.

‘Les Anglais,’ he muttered. ‘Come, we will buy
some.’ He took my elbow and steered me quickly towards The Domville shop
entrance. Before I knew what was happening, he was picking out a Chanel cream
felt cloche hat, with a pretty cream flower on the side and trying it on my
head. He nodded his approval, whisking it off and grabbing a pair of their
flower embellished fingerless leather gloves, then a black cashmere scarf and
guided me to the till. I reached for my purse in my black leather, across the
body bag and felt a restraining hand on mine. ‘I am buying these.’

‘Luc,’ I protested. I barely knew the man and
he was about to spend in the region of £2,000 on three items for me, was he
crazy? ‘You have exquisite taste, I love them, but I can get them.’

‘Non,’ he replied, with a scowl. ‘You would
have no need for them if I was not inviting you out for the day, today you pay
for nothing.’

‘I insist,’ I scowled back, narrowing my eyes
as his smile reached his eyes. He held my gaze as he slipped his card over to
the cashier without looking at her, but giving her some order in rapid French
that I couldn’t make out.

‘I am not used to women refusing my gifts. You
are a feminist? Is this why you are so affronted at me wishing to buy you something?’

‘A gift,’ I spluttered. ‘Did you check the
price!’

‘Non, I have no need to. You will freeze
outside without these, I don’t want any arguments, I promised you an enjoyable
day and that is what we will have, without you freezing to death. Trust me, the
cold is deceptive and can take you unawares.’

‘Luc, please, they’re far too expensive.’

‘You presume to know what I can and cannot
afford?’ he asked, raising a rakishly sexy eyebrow as he studied me.

‘No, but you barely know me, it’s too much.’

‘I very much want to get to know you, Lulu,
keeping you warm will ensure that you do not have need to cut our date short,
to dash back to the safety and warmth of your room. Please do not argue with
me, it is an insult for you to refuse my gesture.’

‘I didn’t mean to insult you,’ I sighed. ‘Is
this a French thing? A man in England would never be so generous.’

‘Les Anglais,’ he muttered again, with a shake
of his head, then turned to converse with the cashier as he retrieved his card.
I saw a flash of platinum as he slipped it back into his wallet. Maybe that
amount of money was a drop in the ocean to him, I could afford a splurge like
that now and again, but it was still a serious amount of money. He retrieved
the items, with the tags cut off and put the hat on my head, before wrapping
the gorgeously warm and soft scarf around my neck and handing me the gloves to
pull on. ‘Shall we?’ he asked, holding out his hand. I blinked at him a few
times. Hand holding was usually reserved for later in a date, he wasn’t shy in
coming forward. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, so I placed
mine in his, inhaling sharply at the jolt of feeling that raced up my arm. O
God, I was in so much trouble with this man. He was charming, generous,
handsome, sexy, witty and dirty mouthed, which apparently I liked, something I
would never have imagined.

I was surprised when he led me out of the
revolving doors and a chauffeur jumped to attention, opening the back door of a
sleek looking black Porsche Panamera, Luc guiding me inside and shutting the
door. I ran my fingers over the smooth leather and quality stitching, she was a
thing of beauty, I loved expensive cars and was saving my money to treat myself
to something luxurious back home. He hopped in beside me, immediately taking my
hand again as he gave instructions to his driver and turned to face me with a
smile.

‘Do you do this for all the English girls you
meet in a club?’ I asked.

‘Non,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I am not
discriminate in my choice of women of any nationality, but I do not go on dates
with them. I take them back to my suite within an hour of making their
acquaintance, then ask them to leave as soon as I have had my fill.’

‘Very funny,’ I replied with a roll of my eyes.

‘I do not joke,’ he replied with a serious
face. ‘Leaving the club alone last night was a first for me, as is taking a
woman on a date. This is not in my repertoire.’

‘Why not?’ I asked, not sure if I believed him.

‘I am a busy man, I do not have time for
attachments. I offer a good time and I move on when I have provided it, yet …’
he shook his head and sighed as he looked at me. ‘There is something about this
English beauty that entices me. So, today I do what I have never done. I woo a
woman. I find myself wanting to spend time in your company, but ultimately I
want what I always want, to bury my cock deep inside your cunt, to fuck you six
ways until Sunday and hear you cry my name each time you climax.’