In Search of the Perfect French Kiss

Episode One - of many...

He was an American. She wasn't.
Viva la difference!

I lay in the bed, wondering what I had done. I didn't have long to come up with an answer. Outside, the thunder rumbled. Inside, the disease coursed.

The storm, with us since before dawn, continued, unrelenting. Steady streams of water broke down and across the panes of the triple, iron-framed dormer windows of the alcove ensconcing the bed. Hypnotic, calming, reassuring: they, as she, gave no hint of their high-energy source and unstable potential.

She rolled toward me, licking a wet smile over her lips. Wanting to avoid the cultural faux pas, I suppressed my morning instincts and only gave her my best smile. "Good mornin', mon chéri."

She reached out, squeezed my hand, and held it gently in the perfect, soft curve of her own. "Matin, bien-aimé..."

* * *

From behind the secrets barricading her mind, she surveyed the room. Her spirit cautiously ventured out. English into French, French on English - her thinking and feelings circled the vortex of their unforeseen meeting and unplanned rendezvous.

(There was now in the room an atmosphere of quietness and softness. I wished to forget completely my trouble and let enter into my mind all the ecstatic energy of this moment with him. My doubts were not justified. High sensibility had advantages in my life, but serious drawbacks were associated.)

(I moved closer to him. He came nearer to me. We talked a little, slowly, with pleasant times of silence, as if sleep were still there. I suggested to stand up, he agreed - but we delayed that separation for a few minutes longer...)

* * *

'Aimé' dissolved into "mmmm" as she rolled over on top of me to give me the fullness of her warm mouth. My instincts could not be suppressed any longer and yielded to her purpose. Her storm was quick coming and intense. Our morning greeting rose on murmurs of delight and squeals of joy, climaxing in a sweet harmony of our in-sync screams of release and freedom.

A broadening beam of energizing sunshine broke through the parting Paris cloudiness. The lush garden in the courtyard below glistened in the spreading, warming brilliance.

An initial understanding of bilateral synergy had been reached. Only time would tell if it were a pact of mutual convenience or an accord of singular commitment.

***

Episode One (to be continued)...

A Michael K. Miller Collaboration
Inspirational and Collaborative Credit: Merci, Blandine!

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