9 Chapter 9

Wiping away a stray lock of hair, she broached the subject again. "So, back to my place, right? That's if you still want to take me up on my offer. Coffee, tea and maybe me?" She threw him a sly wink.

He grinned. "Oh, sure."

Of course, he wanted to! She had worked him up to the point where he needed to let off some of this sexual tension. She had created a powerful, terse yearning inside of him, and now she wanted to continue stoking him to the bursting point.

The car windows had steamed up inside until they couldn't see a thing; and he half-expected some crazed, ax-wielding killer to suddenly jump on the windshield. Adrienne started the car and flipped on the defroster. Soon, a steady stream of cool air flowed through the vents and cleared away the indoor fog. Finally, as they drove back to the city, Ross relaxed against his seat, waited and anticipated, and hoped he wouldn't chicken out at the last minute. How could he possibly? He was here, in the city of amour, with a beautiful, mature woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her. The combination had to be tres magnifique after all.

He approved of her décor the minute he walked into the apartment-feminine and cozy, but not overly frilly. The rain patted against the narrow French doors framed by gauzy curtains in lemon yellow. Despite the boxy space, Adrienne had managed to group the furniture in terms of comfort and accessibility, and had placed colorful prints along the walls painted a warm blue. A small kitchen offered a breakfast nook, stool, and a nearby cafe table and chairs, the table festooned with a woven, fuchsia cloth and a little pitcher of dried flowers. Towards the back, she had placed a folding wicker divider to separate the living area from the double bed. A wooden wardrobe, skinny dresser, an easy chair, and sofa made up the bulk of the furnishings, with an old travel trunk substituted for a coffee table. The one door near the kitchen opened to the salon de bath, she informed him, the room recently remodeled with up-to-date fixtures, though she missed the old-fashioned, claw-foot tub.

As Adrienne went to fetch supplies, Ross noticed the two coffee cups on the table and the half-eaten éclair, but thought nothing much about it as she returned with big, fluffy towels to soak up some of the dampness from their mad dash to the lobby.

She made a slow swipe of each arm with the terry cloth. "You probably wonder why I don't live in more sumptuous quarters. I've only been here about a year, and like Manhattan, Parisian rents are outrageous. This is all I can afford at the moment."

He had been studying the travel stickers on the trunk, Cairo with a pyramid, Italy with a red, green and white flag, Tokyo with a pagoda, and of course, Paris with the Eiffel Tower. "I figured something like that; but what you do have here, is great. You have an eye for colors and textures."

"Thanks. Now, how about some tea with my special ingredient?" Going to the kitchen, she picked up the kettle and smiled at her guest. "Guaranteed to leave you warm and relaxed."

"Oh, then definitely bring it on."

Giving his hair a brisk rub, Ross sauntered over to the seating arrangements and sat on the bergère, upholstered in a yellow floral fabric. He noticed the makeshift bookcase in one corner, her selection of reading material mostly in French-but why not? She lived here, in the heart of all things French; although, he assumed she preferred to read and speak English when the opportunity presented itself. His gaze wandered to the glass-paned doors and he imagined she had a small balcony outside, probably with a terrific view of the city on clear days.

Adrienne joined him minutes later bearing two steaming mugs. Ross thanked her as he took his and inhaled the fragrant clover tea. The first sip revealed her special ingredients, a dab of cream and a healthy dose of cognac. With her mug in hand, she sat on the armrest of the sofa.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to change into something more comfortable since I'm still a little wet. Why don't you slip out of your shoes and take off that jacket?"

"All right if you insist."

Doing as told, Ross discarded his loafers and the windbreaker, even undoing the first three shirt buttons for good measure. After disappearing into the bathroom, his hostess soon returned wearing a long, cranberry robe, cinched tightly at the waist. He noticed she went barefoot and wondered if her nakedness extended all the way up. Well, he could surely find out now, couldn't he? Ross took another swig of his tea and savored the feel of the warm, potent liquid going down to his belly.

Instead of returning to the couch, she went to place a CD in the portable player, stashed on a shelf beneath the small-screen television. A woman's voice-in a rich contralto-filled the room with a bluesy French ballad.

"There now." Adrienne began to sway to the music. "A little bit of romantic music-"

"-a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou," he finished for her; but quickly added, "I'm sorry, but I don't have any protection with me. I guess I should have asked you to stop at a drug store."

She smiled appreciatively as she kept up the slow wave of her body. "That's all right. I'm going to trust you, and you'll trust me that I'm clean and use birth control."

"All right, a deal."

Reaching for the robe sash, Adrienne untied it and allowed the lapels to slip away. Despite the dusky shadows of the robe, Ross could make every curve and swell of her nude form beneath. The mug almost dropped from his hand. Crooking her finger, she wiggled it to beckon him forward.

The next few seconds seemed to go by in a fog. He had no idea what became of his tea as he rose and followed her tempting command, he the zombie slave and she the seductive mistress. With a roll of her shoulders, Adrienne shucked the robe to the floor. Ross wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry or kneel before her, a supplicant to the high priestess of his dreams. Instead, he splayed his arms and drank in her mature beauty.

Her full bosom rose and fell with her soft breath, and he noticed the faint bridge of freckles across her breast bone, a wonderful accompaniment to her buff flesh. He admired her waist, hips and the narrow strip of curls that hedged her rosy pubes, and he figured she had waxed off the rest of the pubic hair to make a smooth bikini line. The tight thighs came next, tapering to long legs. She possessed small, arched feet, her toes polished a dark plum.

Stepping back, Adrienne raised her arms to him, her voice a siren song. "Come over here, Ross, and follow me to bed."

If he had a tail, he knew it would be wagging furiously by now. He already had the panting down, the salivating tongue, and the wide-eyed, eager, puppy look-and if he could yowl in supreme happiness, he would do so now, long and loud.

Instead, he simply muttered, "Wow."