Paris and us

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I could feel the sun's warmth on my face. Birds were twittering outside. I opened my eyes and saw the blue sky.

I wish I woke up everyday here.

No wait, where was I?

A fluffy grey blanket was on me, I was fully dressed in my navy gown. I sat on the bed and looked around. The roof veranda of Mr Vally.

I took the stairs to the ground floor, I heard clinking of glass and utensils in the room on my right, so I went there.

He was sitting on a grey Louis XVI chair, next to a small round Mahogany table, reading on his iPad. Breakfast was served. Croissants, baguettes, butter and different kinds of jams. The room smelt like coffee. I needed some coffee.

I sat down opposite of him. "Good Morning!"

He looked up and asked, "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yeah, I slept like a baby."

"More like a 40 year old man with sleep apnea."

"No, you lied, I don't snore," I spread the raspberry jam on the baguette.

He smiled and looked back to his iPad.

The kitchen was bigger than my studio. There was an antique crystal chandeliers hanging on the moulded ceiling. Several French doors led in the bright morning sunlight. The whole kitchen was in white, with beautiful Italian marble countertops.

"I liked your kitchen."

"You should see my bedroom then. It is even more spectacular."

"Is that how you flirt? That's very vulgar and trashy, I found." I reached for the croissant.

"I don't usually need to flirt. They go to my bedroom voluntarily. They asked me to take them there."

"Careful. You won't want me to talk to the Human Resource Department next Monday. That's a strong case for sexual harassment."

"Like you said, we are not related in the company hierarchy. I am not your boss in any way. There is no ground for sexual harassment. I am just talking to a woman I picked up from Chez Castel last night," he smirked.

"What do you want from me? I am not the type of women you hang out with."

"Did I go out with a particular type?"

"Models, socialites, actresses, ballet dancers, mainly. I don't fit in the profile. I am just an office worker with a boring job."

"So you read Le Figaro and Paris Match. They just showed you what the readers want to fantasize. I hid my real preference of women in my dungeon where nobody can find them," he mocked.

"Is this my last proper meal, and then you will lock me up in your dungeon? My last cellphone signal is from your home. The police will find you. This is the 21st Century with high technology. Count Dracula."

He laughed out loud. "Nobody would believe you. Now, let me show you my bedroom." He stood up and gave out his hand.

Bedroom. I was not ready yet. I needed a shower. I smelt like sweat, cigarette, and fries.

He opened the white double door, inside there was a king size Mahogany bed with rattan bed frame. A black Barcelona chair was next to the window. Books were causally piled up near the walls.

On the walls, there were many oil paintings, from Renaissance to Mid-century. One caught my eye.

A Van Gogh painting, A sunrise on the field.