Saturday in Paris

"You should go, oh, about half a flight above me," he said, "that will give me plenty of incentive to keep up."

"Pervert. You need blood in your legs," she elbowed him lightly, "not between them like it was on the train."

"Oh, I'm going to need my calves massaged," Reggie said softly as she forced her back against Dave as they squeezed into the crowded elevator and her right hand found his flaccid cock and her left held both of his on her stomach.

"Me too," Dave said before he exhaled hard.

"No wonder," she whispered as her right hand found its target, "all the blood's gone back here!"

He inhaled. Her perfume had mixed with sweat but the result was even more evocative than the original scent. And its closeness again blocked the aromatic mass of their fellow travelers, both in the metro car and here. He leaned and she purred and nudged his cheek as he leaned forward while her hand squeezed him as they rose higher in defiance of gravity. Apparently his growing musk wasn't bothering her either.

Bodies burst from the car when it stopped 900 feet above the ground. Reggie led him out by the hand and he again wondered if anyone noticed. Or cared if they would notice.

"Hey," she said, "show me where you're going to work."

He laughed and shook his head but switched to the lead and they found space where he could point to the boringly modern towers almost directly northwest of their spot as the sun lowered and grew to the left of their gaze.

"Out there," he said, "boringly modern. Boring as hell. And if I'm lucky I'll figure out the issue on Monday and be done. And up there's the Arc de Triomphe."

He swept his arm to the right and she followed and nodded as they focused on it.

"Get your work done and you could spend Tuesday in bed with me and Stephanie, find out if my blow jobs are a tenth as good as hers, before I leave," she said. He snorted. Her obsession about the porn star was almost... concerning. But he wondered more about the other part of that.

She kissed his cheek and ran off to the left and stopped at the corner to face him. A swirling breeze and her movement caused her dress to flare up quickly and he knew he couldn't have been the only one who saw the peekaboo of the light brown triangle. She caught her tongue between her teeth then mouthed 'oops' and ran off to the left. He shook his head and walked quickly to catch up and found her bent over the railing and hummed as sweat and the breeze wrapped the thin dress tightly around her ass and hips. It was a good sight. He stood tight against her and she leaned into him.

"It's a soccer field," she pointed almost straight down.

"Yeah," he said, "school, sports academy, something like that."

"Hell of a location, wonder if anyone's gone splat in the center circle during a game?"

He read the twinkle in her eyes and wondered, for just that instant, about Mary's serial killer comment. His parents weren't paupers but... the insurance would be nice. He shrugged.

"Not that I've heard," he tried to match her tone. Her grin accepted that. He directed her gaze up and put his arm out angled a bit to the right.

"See that big stadium that way?" She nodded. "Parc des Princes, soccer stadium. To the right of that is the tennis center where they play the French Open."

She squinted but nodded. The former stadium was visible but the latter not so clear. Then he swept his arm down and along the river.

"The bend in the river, that's Meudon, we'll go down that way, find a place for dinner."

"Oh, what's down that way?"

"Nothing," he said and she gave him a quizzical look, "no, really. It's all commercial and local residential, not a tourist attraction anywhere near."

Her face maintained the confused expression for a moment before she smiled. She looked past him, turned, then leaned and looked to the left back along the Champ du Mars. The park was expansive, but the crowds were omnipresent. She pointed south where he'd led her gaze.

"That where you dump your victims? Why you know it?"

"Yeah, turn 'em into meat pies."

"Hmmf," she said sharply, "they do that in London."

"C'mon," he nudged her to move to their left, "Notre Dame, or what's left of it, is that way then let's get down. I'm hungry and you're buying."

She kissed him quickly and they continued their lap.

He led her off the metro at the end of its line and into a northerly direction. The car hadn't been quite as packed as before but she'd still positioned herself where she could work his hidden prick. She was very good at getting him to a high pitch but not pushing him over the edge. Speaking of torture!

"Where we going?" She said as she again held his arm as they walked along a street that had a mix of small businesses, a mobile phone shop, a tattoo parlour and some casual eateries. He felt his shaft relax slightly and shimmied to settle it. He was happy for the relief but hoped more intense activity was indeed on the way.

"Dunno," he said and she hummed, "we're on the border of Issy and Meudon, this area is telecoms companies, some high tech, TV stations, and the like. No tourist attractions. Been through here for work a few times. Off any number of the little streets we'll find brasseries and such."

"Lead on," she said.

"That way," she said after they'd made a couple of random turns.

"Why?"

She tapped her nose. "It's sensitive, this way."

A curve to the right and the road bulged around a grass circle which had a couple of trees and some benches, a mix of old and older people seated to sit in more comfort than might be offered by steamy apartments. Around the bulge sat a number of small restaurants with tables set along the walkway and the blocked off portion of the road.

"That one," Dave said.

"Oh, why? Well, it does smell good."

"The sign. And a couple of tables for two free."

They walked over and a dark-haired man seemingly in his mid or late fifties and a white shirt smiled at them.

"Bonsoir, monsieur, madame. Duex?" He held up a thumb and index finger.

"Oui," Dave said and nodded, "uh, yeah, two."

"Ah, English," the man said with a smile before his face froze for an instant and he continued in clear but accented English and adopted a bemused look, "at my little place?"

Dave gestured in a northerly direction. "Way too many tourists up that way, you have moules et frites," the man smiled at the pronunciation, "and good wine. That's what we need."

"Ah, I could be a rich man, sell cheap food at dear prices to people who don't know," he said, "but here, they know."

"C'est pourquoi nous sommes ici," Reggie said and the man smiled widely and gave a quick bow and offered them a small table.

"Prenez place je vous en prie, je m'appelle Frederic."

"I'm Reggie and this is Dave," Reggie switched languages and Dave stared at her, "despite his uncultured tongue he's a very nice man, despite living in California."

"Ah," Frederic said, "I was born in Paris and this has been my life. But for that decade in New York."

"Your English is much better than my French," Dave said and he tapped his elbow into Reggie's waist, "and this one letting me try to talk when she..."

Frederic laughed then pulled out a chair for Reggie. "Enough of that! Sit, please. I will get you sparkling water."

They did so and he walked jauntily into his restaurant.

"Maybe the white wine and garlic wasn't the best choice for the mussels," Dave said as he used an empty black shell to pluck another tender morsel from its shell, the latter joined the growing pile in a large bowl. Reggie pushed aside some of the remaining mussels and dipped a chunk of crusty bread in said liquid.

"If you can't handle garlic," she said after she'd closed her eyes and slowly chewed a bite of her bread, "you're out of luck later."

She winked. They'd slid their chairs so they were mostly on the same side of the table and faced the little restaurant and the colorful facades of its neighbors and he leaned and with his fingers lightly under her chin pulled her to kiss him. After a moment the kiss became open-mouthed, garlic seemingly little impediment.

"Is your dinner to your satisfaction?" Frederic's voice and they separated.

"This sauce is incredible," Reggie said, "but this salad is so fresh and the frites and... everything!"

"Wait until you see the bill," their host said, "I finally can take advantage of tourists! Another bottle of wine?"

Quick glances and Dave spoke. "Oui. Whatever you recommend."

Frederic nodded and smiled and after a stop at a second table disappeared through the front door. There'd been a steady if not excessive stream of customers and most seemed to have found the Americans an anomaly but not one they'd needed to engage.

"So," Reggie said with a sudden tentative tone, "why are you interested in an old and wrinkly flight attendant? You're young... handsome..."

"Uh, handsome?" Dave said and he blinked, much of the second bottle of wine was gone, was it..., "And... old? Wrinkly? That's so..."

"You're kind."

"No," his voice firmed, "well, but. I fly to Europe... regularly. But you're the first, uh, flight crew I've ever..."

"Flirted with?" Her radiant smile had returned.

"Well, not entirely. But you're the first one who flirted back, not just professional courtesy."

"Maybe I was flirting with Stephanie?"

"Ah," he said, "guess YOU ended up with second best then."

"You like us old chicks? She's no spring chicken, either," she said and her eyes were even brighter.

"True, that. But I'm at a wonderful restaurant in Paris with YOU," he said, "and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He leaned and she met him not her side of halfway and they kissed again but cut this one short.

"Frederic's going to charge us extra," Reggie said, "but, before he does that..."

She put her left hand on his right thigh and pushed against the hem of his shorts.

"Go use his toilette and lose your underwear, like me," she slid fingers under his shorts, "and where's that park you promised to show me?"

"Ah, that's good news," she pointed at the sign as he led them across the Passarella du Parc de l'Europe, "says the Parc de I'lle St.-Germain is open an extra hour. So this is where my body is going to be found."

He looked at her then at the half dozen approaching people and the slightly smaller group a handful of steps behind them.

"Hey, uh, maybe it's my body that'll be found somewhere in the green expanse."

She laughed and nudged into him. "Maybe I'm like a praying mantis and I'll rip your head off and eat it when you're mating with me. Then toss what's left into the river."

"Think you can keep up with me, old woman?"

"Just what I like, young meat."

He slipped his arm around her waist and lowered it and grabbed her right ass cheek. She swayed her hips and returned the gesture as he used his other hand to point past some buildings and benches where people sat and wandered.

"Straight through, follow the paths. We can go right, watch the sun finally disappear. There's another bridge up that way that'll take us to a station. Make our way back to civilization."

"You mean, you'll make YOUR way back... after," she stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.

"C'mon," he pressed against her ass.

Their eyes took in the crimson glow that was the sun's farewell to July, but its heat hadn't yet diminished by more than a touch, nor had the day's humidity. Their sweat merged where her cheek hit his neck just above the soft collar of his shirt as she stood on tiptoes and his arm again wrapped the bottom swell of her ass cheek through the thin fabric and her left hand wrapped his waist. Her breath and lips and tongue worked at his neck and his ear as he pulled her tighter. They'd found a grassy spot on the western edge of the island with low bushes that didn't block their view of the river and the far bank and rounded stones with flat tops and about a foot high provided a symbolic barrier against the river itself. A few higher bushes screened them from behind as occasional couples or larger groups traversed the same paths as they had.

Then she upped the ante when her right hand found the obvious bulge in his shorts, his no-longer-constrained prick jumped at the attention. She purred and grabbed and stroked his erection and rubbed the soft fabric against the hard flesh. He grunted and decided the assault couldn't go unanswered.

He spun just enough to get his mouth on hers, both mouths already open and tongues ready which immediately set to sparring. Her grip tightened and his left hand found her right breast. She exhaled into his mouth as he squeezed it.

Her tongue pushed against his and he shifted his hand centrally and quickly popped a button, the only button that had prevented her tits from being fully exposed during their travels since he'd met her at Hotel Sookie. His hand found round flesh and his fingers scissored its small but rapidly-hardening bulge. She pulled her lips less than an inch from his.

"This means war," she whispered before her mouth slammed against his. Her hand left his bulge but suddenly pressed just above his waistband and pushed in and down. He jumped when her hand wrapped itself tightly around the rigid flesh of his cock and her tongue pushed deeply into his mouth. He tightened his grip on her tit and she pushed her chest against his pressure and he pinched the nipple that protruded between his fingers which got her to puff breath into his mouth. She worked fingers to the tip of his prick and returned the pinch.

Laughter and conversation in a language neither French nor English rose and passed their spot but the couple maintained their clench, neither seemed willing to be the first to surrender to propriety. His right hand loosened its pressure and fingers danced and the fabric rose until he could get under it and he pressed between legs that sidled apart as he pushed until the tips of his fingers found moisture that wasn't sweat. Her hand worked his prick and she rubbed her left breast against him where shoulder became chest and his left hand continued to work the nipple it held and encouraged it to grow even more.

More voices, softer, French, passers by who again seemed oblivious to the events on the other side of the greenery. The battle continued, neither combatant yet willing to concede any ground, tongue fought tongue and hands and fingers worked flesh.

Dave's tongue fought aggressively and he squeezed the nipple between her fingers and she rubbed against him. He had his plan. He just needed...

Reggie released her grip on his prick to reorient her hand and he struck. He released her tit and grabbed her arm and she yelped as he pulled it up and past his waistband before he slid to fully face her and quickly dropped to his knees and pulled her dress up. His left arm went around her and pressed against her ass and his right hand held her dress out of the way.

His tongue found her slit, pushed just between her lips and he followed them from bottom to top.

"Ahh," she said before her hands wrapped around his head, "you... oh, ah, yeah... right... THERE."

His lips pursed around her clit and his tongue flicked up and down against it. She exhaled hard and puffed before she shuffled to nudge him backward until she raised her right leg and braced that foot on one of the low stones. He adjusted his angle and sucked her flesh into his mouth and worked his tongue around the hard nub. His right hand found her thigh and worked its way up the inside.

She jumped when two fingers pushed into her body and opened her flesh. He released her and his tongue traced its way down and pushed deeper as it neared the gap. Juices oozed onto his cheeks and across his chin and ran down his fingers and hand and a rivulet continued down his arm.

She slowly rotated her hips in a tight pattern and guided his head and used pressure to signal each favored position before she loosened and let him move to the next one. After a circuit she moaned and added volume to encourage him to move.

"Yes," she said when he arced both fingers and pressed against her internally above her slit and she pumped her hips into his face before she hissed in a low voice, "don't stop."

His fingers pressed and his mouth returned to her clit and he didn't stop. But he hummed a question. Voices. English. Accented English. Brits. Laughter.

Dave kept at his task and he felt Reggie's upper body twist slightly as the laughs and conversation continued but like a train going past, the sound stretched. He made her jump again as he pressed his fingers against hard flesh and flicked his tongue against a smaller but even harder bit of flesh. Her grip on his neck and head was fierce and the muscles of her ass and thighs offered small spasms. Her breath rasped and chopped.

"Ah, fu---," her exclamation chopped off but ragged breath forced its way past her lips. A gooey gush pushed against Dave's fingers and his chin and he lapped at the edges as he braced her as her legs wavered for a moment. He kept his mouth in place but did suck or press, her hands were more in place for balance for the moment rather than urging him to activity. He slipped his fingers from her body and she'd nudged her hands upward against the back of his head. He gave her clit a soft kiss and pulled back and she coaxed him to stand before her arms wrapped around his neck and both of his hands went under her dress to her bare ass.

"Yum," she said after a slow and moderately long open-mouthed kiss, "I can smell you've been eating pussy in public, nasty boy. And garlic."

They both laughed and she smiled at him as his eyes tracked as a silent couple appeared and disappeared past bushes in the failing twilight. Once they'd passed she kissed him quickly and loosened her grip.

"Now," she said softly and kissed his neck then his chest just above an open button and began to crouch when he firmed his grip and held her. She 'mmm'ed' a question.

"Save it, we need to go," he pointed behind himself toward the sky that'd moved toward black, "even with the extra hour the cops'll be through, chasing out the perverts from the bushes."

He nudged her to spin and she did so and took his hand. They edged to the bushes and listened before he led them onto the path.

Madeleine

He walked with his arm around her shoulders as he led them into Balard. He noticed that most of the buttons on her dress were no longer employed and the light brown strip between her legs offered intermittent exposure as she walked but she seemed to have little interest in altering that. Her nipples did likewise but their contrast was such that they weren't obvious. But for neither situation did he consider suggesting she adjust her dress.

She leaned into him as the quarter-filled metro car left the station.

"Straight shot to your hotel this line," he said, "and---."

"You said your hotel's closer on this same line, right?"

"Yeah. Bit longer a walk than to yours but easy enough."

She spun and cupped his crotch with her left hand and her voice was husky. "I don't think this should wait longer than necessary."

The cyclic inflation and deflation of his prick and its friction against the thin fabric of his shorts hadn't been a sensation he was used to. Not that he'd never gone commando in such clothes but that he'd not had a very attractive woman's fingers that added to the sensations regularly. On their walk from the park they'd observed some propriety, limiting their touches to moments when no one was obviously watching.

But she'd released the brake. She'd turned into him and used her near match in height to lock her mouth on his, her right arm held his far shoulder and her left diligently twisted around and stroked his prick through the cloth. His left hand cupped her left ass cheek and he fought the urge to caress her tits and instead caressed her shoulder.