DISCLAIMER: Standard disclaimers apply. If you are underage (18 or 21, depending) and/or are offended by mature themes including consensual sexual contact between teen males, then DO NOT continue. This work is entirely fictional and any resemblances to persons (other than myself) either living or dead, is entirely coincidental. If you wish to reprint this story, just drop me an email letting me know where, and make sure you give me (Menzo) credit.
Feel free to give me criticism; my writing is far from perfect! Comments are very much appreciated, so please drop me a quick email at menzoberranzen_of_the_drow@yahoo.com
~Menzo
Chapter 12 - New Beginnings
Paris was fabulous.
For five days, I was able to do whatever took my fancy, and go wherever I pleased. I visited all the major tourist attractions, and spent time exploring the best shopping in the world. I ate everywhere from the finest restaurants to the smallest cafés and I just generally enjoyed myself. At night, I went to a small club across the block from my hotel; it was France, and nobody cared how old I was. My French, which had been passable when I left, improved rapidly as I endeavored to communicate effectively in French.
It was two days before I left, as I sat sipping a cosmopolitan in the very noisy nightclub, that my week got very interesting. All modesty aside, I looked simply amazing. I was wearing brand-new Armani dark-wash jeans and a form-fitting, glamorous Versace shirt (which cost more than I cared to think about) and I was relaxing by the bar watching people dance. Picking someone up had not been my intention, but as I watched a very cute guy - who looked to be about 19 - walk up and sit down beside me, I reconsidered.
"Bonjour," he said in a melodious voice.
"Ca va?" I asked, speaking slowly and surely. My command of the French language was good, but my accent was also distinctly noticeable.
"You are American?" he asked, in heavily accented English. If anything, the accent made him even more appealing.
"Yes, I'm here for the week."
"Can I buy you a drink?" Ahh, the French; they were remarkably forward.
"Thank you. Another cosmopolitan, please."
He nodded, and waved to the bartender. He said something very rapidly in French, and within no time two cosmopolitans had arrived. Sipping our overpriced cocktails, we chatted in both French and English - though his English was miles ahead of my French. As it turned out, he was only 18, and a student at a Parisian university. He had spent a year in England, which was why his English was so good. We shared a love of clothing, and a love of travel, and we hit things off quite well. He offered me another drink, but I declined and said I needed to get back to my hotel.
"I will walk you there," he said with a broad smile. I blushed a bit, and accepted his offer. The hotel was only a block away, and so the walk was a short one.
"When do you leave for home?"
"In three days."
"Would you like me to show you around tomorrow?"
I hesitated, but his soft smile and pretty eyes convinced me that I should just do it.
"Ok, why not? Meet me here tomorrow at 10?"
"See you then. Good night."
"Good night."
Our eyes lingered as I turned to leave, and then suddenly, in true French tradition he gave me a quick kiss on each cheek. I had seen two women do this, and a man and a woman, but never two men. I just smiled sweetly, and walked into the hotel. It was definitely going to be a memorable trip.
The following day would set the bar for all future first dates: it was perfect. Maybe it was because we both knew that nothing would come of it, or maybe we just had good chemistry, but the entire day was amazing. Conversation - in both languages - was never awkward and we were both totally at ease around the other. I fudged the truth a little bit, and just pretended Jesse's family was my own without going into details, and I loved knowing that it would never come back to haunt me.
We started the morning with a nice walk through the warm city streets, wending our way to the one major attraction I hadn't yet seen: the Eiffel Tower. We wandered around the base and finally went to the viewing deck above where we sat and had some coffee. After the rather tumultuous dates I'd had with Dorian, it was so nice to just sit and relax. He made me feel special, in a corny sort of way, and that was just what I wanted at that ime. After our coffee in the crowded and overpriced espresso bar, we descended from the tower and he took me to a lovely part of town that wasn't frequented by tourists. The beauty of Paris is that no matter where you are, there is always an amazing array of old monuments and beautiful architecture.
We ate lunch in a quaint little bistro that Matthieu - that was his name - assured me had food that could rival anywhere else in the city. I didn't know Paris well enough to judge, but from what I tasted, I could well believe it. He talked about his life, and what it was like growing up gay in a rural town in the south, and how wonderful he found the urban lifestyle of Paris. Our lives didn't really have much in common, but that never seemed to matter to us during those few hours.
The afternoon was spent on a riverboat on the Seine followed by ice cream and a little bit of window shopping. I was expecting to say goodbye to him shortly after, but he surprised me and asked me to dinner. I had no objections, and graciously accepted. We both wanted to get ready, so we headed in opposite directions for a brief respite before the evening. I took a small nap - the walking had exhausted me - and then showered and got ready for dinner. He showed up, as the French are wont to do, half an hour past our arranged meeting time and we walked a short distance to a small, intimate restaurant. I had the duck, which was succulent, and he ordered pasta. Despite the modest portions, it was a long meal, but the conversation continued to flow smoothly between us. He tried to pay, but at my insistence he let me take the bill.
To cap off the wonderful day, he said he had a surprise for me and took me to the ever-popular French 'discotheque'. I had always been skeptical of European discos, but when I stepped through the tacky, luminescent entranceway, I was pleasantly surprised; the club would not have been out of place in the finer areas of Manhattan. I had a couple martinis before I was willing to dance, but once he dragged me onto the dance floor, I had a blast. I lost track of time in between the expensive alcohol and the fast-paced dancing, and when we finally left the club, we were laughing uproariously and breathing hard. It had been a wonderful finish - or so I thought - to a wonderful day.
We finally made it back to my hotel and were standing in the front, saying our goodbyes, when I suddenly felt impulsive.
"Why don't you come upstairs, Matthieu?" I asked, holding his hands in mine. He smiled that killer smile of his and nodded. Still holding hands, I pulled him into the lobby and we walked up the wide mahogany staircase to the room where I was staying. I was a little drunk, and a feeling very free at the moment, and I made up my mind that I was going to finish the night on a high note.
It was late, and neither of us had much more conversation left. I sighed heavily as I felt his lips close over mine, and I just let myself enjoy the moment. It was romantic in a way that my night with Ben - and a brief relationship with a boy named Devin - had never been. He was tender and gentle with soft skin and even softer lips. It was a fantastic night, and one that I will always remember as one of the best ever.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Rubbing my groggy eyes, I sat up in the plush white bed and fumbled for the phone.
"Hello?" I said thickly.
"Jamie?"
"Yes?"
"It's Jesse."
"Oh, hi, sorry I just got up."
"That's a bit late for you. It's what, 9 o'clock there?"
"Sorry, late night," I mumbled. I felt Matthieu stir beside me and groan softly.
"C'est qui?" he asked, sitting up beside me.
"Shhh," I whispered, placing my free hand over his mouth.
"Who is that, Jamie?" asked Jesse curiously. Shit.
"Oh, uh, room service."
"You weren't even awake when I called."
"I have the same thing every morning at this time," I lied.
"Right," he laughed. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, but it seems like I needn't have bothered."
"Fuck you," I retorted. He just laughed harder. "My food is here, I gotta go."
"Enjoy your high-protein breakfast then," he snickered.
"Jesse!" I reprimanded, scandalized.
"Buh-bye." With that, he hung up the phone.
"Sorry about that," I apologized to Matthieu.
"C'est rien," he smiled. He pulled my head down and gave me a kiss. "What time is it?"
"Uhh, 9:20," I said, looking at my alarm clock.
"Shit! I'm going to be late for work." With that, he hopped out of the bed and started pulling on his clothes - which were strewn all over the floor - and made a vain attempt to flatten out his hair.
He paused at the door, and turned to look at me.
"It was nice meeting you, Jamie. I had a great day yesterday."
"Yeah, me too. Thanks for everything."
"C'est rien," he repeated with a smile. He gave me one final kiss on the lips, and then vanished out the door. He didn't ask for a number, and I didn't offer one; part of the allure had been knowing it was just the one time. I couldn't stop smiling after he left, and I was content knowing that we had had an amazing day together and that was all.
"Jamie!!" screamed several voices as I stepped into the arrivals lounge. I turned my head to see Jesse, Matt, Ben and Liz all running over to hug me.
"Hi guys - you're squishing me," I gasped as I felt Matt's powerful arms crushing me.
"So how was Paris?" asked Liz.
"Paris was fantastic," I gushed.
"I'll bet," snickered Jesse. I gave him a pointed look, but that didn't seem to stop him.
"So, who was he?"
"Who was who?" demanded Ben.
"Yeah!" chimed in Matt and Liz.
"Oh nobody," grinned Jesse unapologetically. "Just the guy in Jamie's hotel room at nine in the morning."
I blushed profusely, and deadened Jesse's arm.
"Oww," he whined. "Come on, you know you'd tell us anyway."
"Can we just get my bags and go?" I asked, slightly red. They all laughed, and made me promise to fill them in on the drive home.
It took a while for my bags to arrive, and in the meantime I regaled them with stories about all the amazing stuff in Paris. Matt, predictably, was interested in the clubs, while Liz and Ben wanted to know about the shopping. Jesse preferred hearing about the Louvre and the big tourist attractions. I had only been gone a week, but it felt like a lot longer than that. My time alone had been just what I needed, but I was glad to be back among friends.
My bags - significantly heavier than when I left - finally came out, and we hauled them to Jesse's car where we all somehow managed to fit.
"So," Ben started. "Tell us about your gentlemen friend!"
"What am I, some old woman?" I demanded, earning a laugh from my friends.
"Well?" came four expectant voices that refused to be deterred.
"His name was Matthieu, and we had a wonderful day together."
"And a wonderful night, mmm?" laughed Jesse.
"That too," I admitted.
"So, how was it?"
"It was - " I trailed off with a sigh. "Incredible."
"Aww, that's sweet," said Liz.
"Here's a picture," I offered, handing my camera to Matt, who was sitting next to me.
"Hell, I'd go gay for him," he said with a cat-call. After the camera had been passed around - earning me a variety of rather explicit comments from my friends - we exhausted the subject of my date, and went on to more mundane matters.
Coming back from a vacation - especially such a memorable one - is never easy. I was delighted to see my friends and 'family' again, but I missed the luxurious European life I had been living for the past week. Even Susan's cooking couldn't compare to the world-class cuisine I had treated myself to in Paris. It was also the summer, and I wasn't sure what I was planning on doing with my time. In years past, Jesse and I had used the time to hang out more often, but seeing as I was living with him, spending more time together wasn't really necessary. Jesse and I had contemplated getting a job, but neither of us had made a decision yet.
The morning after my return, I woke up early and put on my running clothes for the first time in over a week. I had tried to run on vacation, but I couldn't seem to motivate myself - a latte and a book was just too tempting. I stretched well, and set an easy pace for myself as I broke myself back into my morning routine. In the summer, I got up an hour earlier to avoid the sweltering heat that wasted no time in taking a stranglehold on the town. I hated running in the heat, and if I had to wake up at 5:30 to get cool temperatures, than that's what I'd do.
Running was almost an addiction with me, and the ache in my leg muscles was a pain that I welcomed. I had always subscribed to the theory that 'runners have two kinds of pain: the pain that they enjoy, and the pain that they enjoy.' So early in the morning, I was almost completely alone. I saw a couple of high-power lawyers jogging before an 18-hour day at the office, and one nurse getting back from a night-shift but other than that, the town was eerily silent. When I was finally to exhausted to keep going, I sat down on a park bench panting. I looked at my watch, it was 7:00 and I now I needed my morning coffee to keep me going for the day.
For the first time in over three months, I walked into the Starbucks where Julian worked. The place was empty - it had just opened - and Julian was tiredly scrubbing the countertop. When I looked at him, a smile came to my face. He was no longer the boy who had me tying myself in knots over his life; he was the pretty waiter that I remembered from all those months ago. I walked purposefully over, and he turned to look at me. His eyes widened in surprise, but instead of anger or dislike, he just smiled.
"Hello Jamie. Your usual?" he asked politely. Not a false politeness either, I noted with no small amount of pleasure.
"You still remember?" I replied quietly.
"I do."
"Yes, my usual," I said, placing a ten-dollar bill on the bar. He handed me back my change and moved to make the drink. There was no conversation as he prepared my coffee, but the silence wasn't filled with the tension I would have expected.
"There you go," he said at last.
"Thanks, Julian."
"No problem. So... - " He hesitated. "How have you been."
"Oh, it's been an interesting few months," I replied, surprised that he had initiated conversation. Our fight at Jesse's party was the last time I had spoken to him. The only other time we had seen each other was at the track meet where Keegan and I were running.
"What about you?" I continued. "You look great."
"Thanks - life has been a lot less stressful lately."
I raised my eyebrow questioningly but he just shrugged.
"I've gotta run. It was nice seeing you again."
He smiled at me again - that familiar shy smile - and I turned to leave the café. As I started to push the door open, however, he called out.
"Wait!"
I let the door swing shut, and I turned back to face him.
"Thank you, Jamie." His face was pained, and I knew how hard it must have been for him to say that. It was tantamount to admitting he really had needed help. I didn't say anything - what could I have possibly said? He was telling me something that I needed to know, but that he didn't want me to acknowledge. So, I just smiled at him and walked out. He had made my day, and if I never saw him again, at least I wouldn't be plagued by lingering doubts about my decision.
When I got back to the house, only Susan and Dave were up. It was a weekday, but I had lost track of time since school finished.
"Morning Jamie," greeted Susan, looking up from her breakfast. Dave, engrossed in his newspaper, mumbled something unintelligible.
"Hey Susan," I replied. "How are you?"
"As good as I'll ever be on a Tuesday morning," she laughed. "And what about you? You seem unusually cheerful."
"I can revert to my dour self, if you prefer," I retorted. "Actually, I saw Julian again today."
Her face clouded over, but I cut her off before she could speak.
"He said thank you," I said, still a bit amazed.
"Really?" She sounded less than enthusiastic.
"Yes. Look, Susan, I know what you're going to say. I'll stay out of his life, but you have no idea how much that meant to me."
"I know, I know, but I don't want you to get lost in his problems again."
"I'll be careful."
"Promise?"
"You sound like Jesse," I laughed. She arched an eyebrow expectantly, and I added, "I promise."
"That's better. Alright, well we better head out now. Have a good day."
"You too."
When Dave left, I stole his paper from him and sat down to drink my coffee and do the crossword. I was hungry, but I figured that if I showered first, I could get Jesse to make me an omelet. With that in mind, I penned in the final word to the crossword and made my way upstairs. Out of habit, rather than use the bathroom in the hallway, I walked quietly into Jesse's room and stepped into his en suite. All things considered, it was certainly the nicer, more luxurious of the two.
As usual, I took a long shower, and then spent inordinate amounts of time trying to straighten my hair and even out my teenage complexion. As I was adding a water-wax to my hair - it was being uncooperative that morning - the door opened behind me and a groggy Jesse stepped in. Shielding his eyes against the light, he tried to orient himself.
"Morning sleepyhead," I called loudly. He winced at the volume, but I easily dodged his clumsy swat.
"What ungodly hour is it?"
"I dunno, like 8 o'clock or something. Did I wake you?"
"No, I forgot to shut my blinds last night."
"Poor baby," I chuckled. Jesse, in my opinion, slept far too much, and he needed absolute darkness in order to sleep. He ditched his clothes, and I returned to my hair. However, he would have the last laugh as I felt frigid water from the hand-held shower spray against my back. I screamed - in an admittedly very feminine way - and to compound my indignity, the towel around my waist slipped, I spun around to catch it, and he drenched my front.
Naked, cold and wet, I gave him a stare that said he was going to regret that. I lashed out quickly, and dug my fingers into his ribs. He shrieked with laughter, but he managed to turn the showerhead on again.
"My hair!" I yelled, jumping back. He grinned, and started moving towards me.
"Don't you dare," I said with as much conviction as I could must. Shivering and naked and not armed with a shower, I wasn't very threatening. "You'll have to clean up."
"It's worth it," he laughed, spraying me again.
I closed my eyes in defeat, and braced myself against the water. Once he saw he had won, he quickly turned off the shower. He stepped out of the shower to get me a towel, but as he reached to pull one off hook on the door, I pushed him and slammed the door shut behind him, fumbling with the lock. My revenge was complete as I dried myself off and started doing my hair from scratch. When I finally opened the door - wary of a trap - he was nowhere to be seen. I walked into the kitchen where Jesse was cooking something, and Lily was making a fruit salad.
"God, something stinks," I said, exaggerating my tone and body language. "Did you shower Lily?"
"Do you wanna make your own breakfast?" he asked pointedly. Lily just laughed.
"How about I make us both breakfast?" I suggested coyly.
"No thank you," he retorted.
"Hey, you shouldn't have messed with the hair," I said fairly. "And you had a shower and I didn't."
"And I know how much you hate getting messy," he laughed. "And the cold - "
"Don't even go there," I snapped, blushing. Lily laughed even harder, but I had finally earned my breakfast. He scooped the omelet onto a warmed plate, and Lily spooned some fruit salad onto the side.
"Thank you very much," I said, mustering the last of my dignity.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, desperately trying to avoid laughing.
"As I recall, you don't even need the cold," I retorted in a sickly sweet tone. His laughter died on his lips, and his blush put mine to shame.
"Alrighty then, you two," declared Lily after her laughter subsided. "I've heard more than enough about your, erm, manhoods."
"I agree," I said as Jesse said, "Yes you have!"
"So," I started in an effort to change the conversation. "I ran into Julian today."
"Oh?" replied Jesse neutrally.
"He said thank you."
"Some things are best left alone," he said after a brief pause. Lily nodded sagely beside him.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded. Why was no one else as happy as I was about this? He gave me a flat look that told me I already knew the answer. But, as Sex and the City will tell you, sometimes it's the painful relationships that you just can't let go of.
Comments, criticisms and suggestions are all very welcome. I write because I enjoy it, but I post them here for you so please let me know what you think of the story.
Menzoberranzen_of_the_drow@yahoo.com
~Menzo