Wednesday, September 03, 2014

The first early morning light was chasing night's darkness away. The birds in the courtyard began their morning song. I'm wide awake watching Emile sleep contently, his face peaceful, his gentle snore like the purr of a cat. I look past his furry chest to the window beyond. Emile is unfashionably hirsute, but that's OK, I enjoy running my fingers through his pelt.

Emile is approaching 60 and brags that he weighs only 10 Kilos more than he did when he graduated from college. He is reasonably trim, with a small paunch and love handles. He wears his hair longish and combed straight back with distinct widows peak holding its ground to a receding hairline.

He rolls away from me and I shut my eyes in a futile attempt to get some sleep. When I feel him stir, I watch him till his eyes open, I smile, he smiles. "Bonjour mon petit chaton," he whispers. I snuggle up to him as he rolls on to his back. "You sleep so well, I'm jealous," I tell him. He smiles and shrugs. My hand slips between his legs, Emile likes to start the day with a blow job and I'll accommodate. Before his limp member stiffens, he excuses himself and heads to the toilet. I lay there listening to the morning sounds.

With my cheek resting on his stomach, I take him into my mouth. Besides taking care of his bodily needs, he cleaned his privates, he is considerate. Emile will stiffen but without the little pill won't be hard. He strokes my hair while I suck him and then seconds after the taste of the pre-cum, my mouth fills with his flow. I swallow and look at him with a practiced smile.

Now Wags is demanding attention, as he has business to take care of. Pulling on a pair of shorts and a jersey, I grab my keys, baggies and his leash and head for the door. Wags quickly attended to his needs, but I didn't go back to the apartment. I find the time between getting up and leaving, awkward and Wags provides an excuse to be away. It is a lovely July morning and the streets are empty, but for workers attending to trash and sweeping the sidewalks. We walk a bit and after 40 minutes we return to find Emile gone. There is a note by my bag, "Dinner tonight?" I text him yes.

Drawing a bath, I consider the apartment. It is lovely, large with lots of light. A duplex the living areas on the upper floor with the bedrooms below. The master bath is larger than my living room and would be envied in any mini-mansion built in a corn field. It is so tempting to move in and make this my residence, but that would be ceding too much control.

Wags finds a comfortable spot outside the door and lifts an eye to check on me. Steeping in the bath my fingers find the little button and the ripples of pleasure begin coursing through my body, till a moan and convulsion, send water splashing out the tub. Wags got up to check that I was alright and seeing that I was returned to the carpet.

I try not to leave personal belongings at the apartment so I gather things up, tossing them in a bag. On my return, I'll bring items for this evening and tomorrow. Finding Marty, my Miata, I lower the top and head north.

My apartment is musty from being closed up, so I open the windows and set fans to air it out. I have a business meeting this afternoon, so I select clothes for that and for tonight, something for dinner and something to play in. Heading to my appointment, I text Emile and ask, if rather than going out, would he like me too make us dinner? He replies that he would like that.


Monday, September 01, 2014

Last night? When was last night?

Saturday, August 30, 2014

It's difficult to believe that August is over. Where did summer go? I've been busy with lots of visitors and much toing and frowing. The couple that owns the village café had a medical crisis this summer, he needed emergency surgery and has been out of work for a couple of months. Several of us chipped in to help them out and I've been tending bar on the weekends when I'm here. I've enjoyed it so much that I'm considering finding a part time bar tending gig when I return to Paris.

I'm seeing a lot of Emile, in Biarrtz, the Paris apartment and here. In a way our relationship is normalizing, but it is a strange normal. When Denise was here we discussed being the kept woman. Being secure-insecure, you never not when you will be dumped. Being comfortable, having a routine and place. But not happy or fulfilled.

For a while, Denise fell out of my life, not for a reason, just bad timing. We promised each other that we'll do a better job of staying in touch. We're a lot alike, sharing neurosis and interests.

I'll be heading to Paris on Wednesday, my grandmother and aunt are arriving. Grandma loves Paris and has friends here, and realizes that she soon maybe too frail to make the trip. Granddad, though healthy and golfing twice a week, nine holes on a Par 3, he wasn't up to the trip, so my aunt Lillian is coming. Can't wait till see them.

Well off to my bar tending gig!


Wednesday, August 13, 2014

My family began arriving Thursday for our summer get-together. A local inn served as headquarters and the charm of the village provided the back drop. Saturday evening the "kids" asked to stay at my place staking out places on the floor to spread their mats, at least till their parents headed for the door and the youngest chased after them with looks of panic on their faces. The middle kids stayed, Robbie, Matt, young Grace and Henry, who stayed close to me when Leah left. Wags was in doggy heaven with all the kids to beg treats from.

Robert came and the stench of a dying marriage seemed to follow him and Grace all weekend. It seems as if we are only waiting for the announcement.

This weekend marked the 11th anniversary of our mother's death and the first time we have been together as a family on this date. We're past mourning her death and on to celebrating her life and joking how mom pops up in each of us.


Sunday, August 10, 2014

In Memory of My Mother

Tuesday, August 05, 2014

It has been a hectic summer that is going by too fast. Anne Marie and Hannah have come, gone and will be back. Both Denise and Irena spent time here and their stays overlapped. One evening, Mirelle joined us and it was like a college sleepover or kittens playing in a basket. Catherine arrives this afternoon and the rest of my family at weeks end as we are having our annual get-together in the village.

Meetings brought me to Paris for several days and gave me a chance to have dinner with the twins. Mandy wanted to go back to the café along the Canal St Martin that we dined at last summer, so I made reservations. The girls can be peas in a pod, but their personalities are so different. Mandy is effusive and very outgoing. As she walks, she'll make eye contact and smile at those she passes, while Abbie is different, closed, looking straight in front of her as she walks, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, even in the fading light of the evening. When they sat down, Mandy began flirting with the server, a cute guy in his mid-twenties, she asked to see the wine list and ordered a glass of chardonnay. The server looked to me for permission and I nodded. Abbie looked perplexed and looked to me for guidance and I told her that if she wanted wine she could have it. She ordered what her sister had. After dinner I took them home in a taxi.

While in Paris, I had a date, a woman who I met shortly before leaving for Nord Capp. It didn't go well, she seemed addicted to her phone, constantly checking even while conversing. I asked her if she was waiting for something important and she wasn't. When the server came to order, I decided to cut my losses and asked for the check. Nothing ventured…

News on the Mr. Envelope front, I wondered if his ruminating about the nature of our relationship would lead him to break it off. That would be OK, though it would put a dent in my finances. But it hasn't, when I checked my accounts on the first, I found that he had deposited my retainer, rather than parse it out to me in envelopes when we got together. In our conversation that Saturday, I noted that this habit added to the transactional nature of our relationship, he understood. He has also informed me that he has taken an apartment for us in the Marais, and I'm welcome to make it my residence. Doubtful, I like a place of my own, but I'm tired of hotels, this will be better. By the way, his name is Emil.


Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Mr. Envelope has a vacation home in Biarritz and others near Nice, favored by his wife, a ski place in the Alps and a get-away in the Turks & Caicos. He asked me to spend a few days with him in Biarritz, so last Wednesday I drove down to join him.

He was amused when I pulled in driving Buster and kept referring to me as "mon petit hippie." Wags was with me as Mr. E insisted that I bring him. The house has a water view with a beach across a small street and is very contemporary. It is not ostentatious and of a nice size.

He didn't have an agenda for my being there, we went out for dinner on Wednesday and Thursday, while Thursday afternoon we went up to Capbreton and he sat on the beach and watched me surf. At breakfast Friday, he asked what I wanted to do, shop, I told him. I had peeked in his closet and well he needed some new clothes, this amused him and off we went. We found a nice men's shop and they were glad to assist in dressing Mr E.

We lunched on the terrace at Chez Alberts, a nice, but stuffy established gentry type of place. After lunch it was my turn to shop. And it was quite a haul if I do say so myself. Emile made a good pack horse.

Saturday evening I cooked him dinner and that pleased him. After we sat on his deck drinking wine as the light fade over the water. He was getting a little drunk and a bit maudlin. He asked if I was only with him for the money and I told him that if I didn't enjoy his company, I wouldn't stay with him just for the money. Then I reminded him that he has been very clear that he wouldn't divorce his wife, so what future would I have? "You knew that a mistress was expensive when you sought me out." He nodded.

With that it was time to change the subject, and I excused myself for a moment to fetch something that I had brought for him. When I returned I stood in the doorway leading to the deck in a frame bra and ouvert with numerous leather straps. His interest was piqued and he forgot about the expense of his mistress.