My Only Wish (Cette Année)

My Only Wish (Cette Année)

This is a sequel to my 'All I Want for Christmas C'est Toi'. I recommend that you read that first, as this story heavily references the events in Lyon that first bring the main characters together, as well as establishing their connection.

If you choose to skip reading the first part, it's good to keep the following in mind: The story follows Julie, a waiter at the prestigious Hotel-Dieu in Lyon, and a hotel guest visiting from London that she first met at work over Christmas - a very beautiful woman Julie calls 'Madame'.

'All I want...' takes place in Lyon over the course of 48 hours, but 'My Only Wish...' stretches over two years, skipping between Julie's and Madame's points of view in Lyon and London. Don't let the jumps throw you.

I didn't originally intend 'All I Want...' to have a sequel, but the characters and their chemistry just wouldn't leave me alone. There was a story there to be told, so here is my version of it.

Big thanks to the great @SugarStorm for Beta reading this and picking up all the things that I'd missed. As usual, all the wrong or strange bits I decided to keep are mine, not theirs. I heartily recommend that you check out their stories.

-----

+++++ Madame +++++

Lyon, Boxing Day morning.

Her quiet, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room.

Steady. Deep.

A teasing ray of sunlight sneaked between the curtains into my room at the Hotel-Dieu de Lyon, kissing her pale shoulder, playing in the pink coloured streaks in her hair.

I lay perfectly still and traced the lines of the small tattoo at the nape of her neck with my eyes. A little bird, wings spread in flight, drawn in simple outlines. It was beautiful, like her.

I drank in her warmth, and the slight rise and fall of her chest under my hand, possessively draped over her body. The simple touch of her soft skin to mine felt grounding, felt right. Her ass nestled back into my hips, her back against my breasts, the back of her thighs touching the front of mine.

Close. Connected.

It was a feeling I desperately craved after too many years lacking. A feeling I hadn't been expecting to find. At least, not here. And it wasn't just physical.

I felt... whole.

My eyes wandered to where her neck met her pale shoulder, where yesterday's bite mark was starting to bruise. The red teeth marks slowly turning blueish. There were more, on her breasts, her ass. I couldn't help feeling ashamed of having given her those but also aroused at having given pleasure with pain so freely accepted. Yearned for.

Another feeling I hadn't expected to find here.

I bent my head to her shoulder and lightly kissed the bruise.

She slept in my arms. Still, peaceful. Trusting.

I wished I could stay with her like that.

I wished I wasn't leaving.

---

The security check line at Lyon-Saint-Exupéry was long and slow going. Families travelling home after the holidays in France, children crying, parents fudding with their clothes and bags, people fishing out their laptops and iPads and trying to make heavy skiing coats fit in the plastic screening containers. The French security officers boringly reciting the usual mantra of liquids and electronics.

She was on my mind as I waited. Her sapphire blue eyes looking in mine as she pulled away from our goodbye kiss, happy for our time together, sad that it was over. The sway of her sexy ass as she hurried away down the corridor, hoping not to be seen. That last flash of the pink streaks in her dirty blonde ponytail as she disappeared around the corner towards the elevators.

I wished I could stay.

But it wasn't to be.

I was going back to London, back to my daughter. Back to my life.

Her life was here, in France.

It had been a magical two nights.

A Christmas miracle.

But as the plane rose towards the skies, and I watched Lyon fall away, her last words echoed in my mind.

"Au revoir madame. Au revoir... mon amour."

Until we meet again, my love.

---

London, Boxing Day evening.

Edward opened the door with a smile.

"Hey, happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas Ed."

"How was Lyon?"

"It was surprisingly nice, better than I expected really. A bit strange being there by myself, but all in all it was great. It's a beautiful city."

"That's good to hear, Sophie was a bit worried you'd be miserable on your own." He turned towards the kitchen.

"Fancy a cuppa? She's getting her stuff together."

"Yes please."

I took off my coat and followed him. It was still strange coming to this house as a guest, having lived in it for six years as a family. I reached for a mug in the cupboard and held it out for Ed to pour. He passed me the sugar.

"So how was your Christmas then? Everything good?"

"Yes, I think so. Mother joined us, I think Sophie was happy all things considered."

He looked at his mug.

"It's a little strange of course... for all of us. Different."

I knew what he meant.

"Yeah, I know."

We sipped our tea in silence.

"I wanted to thank you, for... you know... letting me have Christmas."

He had a sincere look in his eyes.

"It means a lot."

"It's not a question of letting, Ed, she's your daughter, and you love her. I know that. It was an easy decision."

"Yeah, well, I'm just saying I appreciate it. Thanks."

"Mum!"

I was suddenly wrapped up in an octopus hug from behind. When it loosened a bit, I turned around and hugged her back.

"Happy Christmas Mum!"

Sophie's face glowed with a big smile.

"Happy Christmas sweetheart, oh, it's good to hold you!"

"Did you open your present?"

"No, I left it at home because I want to open it with you tonight."

"Oh." She had a second of disappointment and then the smile was back on.

"Even better! Then I get to watch your face when you open it."

"You're making me curious now, baby. What did you get me?"

"No, not telling!"

"Well let's get home then so I can open it!"

She let go and jumped out to the hall to put her shoes on.

Ed looked amused. I gave him a pointed look.

"You know what it is, don't you?"

He raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh no, put the thumb screws back in your purse, you won't get a squeak out of me!"

I laughed and put down the mug and gave him a peck on the cheek on my way to the hall.

"See you after New Year's, Ed."

Sophie hugged her dad goodbye, carried her bag down the stairs and threw it on the back seat of the Audi, then sat herself in the front. We waved as we pulled away towards Kensington.

"You came straight from the airport? Did you have a good time in Lyon? Was the food nice? How is Christmas in France?"

"One question at a time! Did you have sugar for breakfast?"

She laughed.

"No, I'm just happy to see you. I missed you. It was weird having Christmas without you."

"Me too honey, I missed you too. But I was fine. You saw the hotel; I was pampered in luxury the whole time."

Many kinds of delicious luxury.

"It looked amazing, was it like an old French palace or something?"

"I thought so, but it's actually an old hospital. Oh, and the food was to die for. So good."

"Maybe we could go there for summer holidays sometime, together."

"Yeah, maybe."

In my mind, I was back there, in her arms, the summer sun playing in her pink streaked hair.

---

The divorce was an amicable one. Edward knew our marriage was over long before I told him. Ours wasn't a love story for the ages. Getting pregnant at 18, just three months into a loosely defined relationship, wasn't a great foundation for a happily ever after.

We got married a year after Sophie was born, and at first, we were happy. Ed's parents were very well off, and they provided us with a small flat and a good job for him in the family firm.

My own family didn't have much in ways of money, but love aplenty, and they helped in every way that they could. Sophie was loved and we didn't want for anything. My mum looked after Sophie when I went back to university to finish my design degree at Goldsmiths and wouldn't hear of us getting a nanny for her precious granddaughter. We were lucky, surrounded by people who loved and cared for us.

But as the years passed, it became more and more obvious that our marriage was based on our love for Sophie, not for each other. We were partners raising a daughter, not lovers.

We gradually found out that neither of us was up for providing what the other wanted in the bedroom. He wanted a willing but dutiful wife for regular but ultimately unprovocative sex. I needed... well... not that.

It added to the general 'not working out' direction of our marriage, and in the end we both just lost interest.

It's a sad thing, not feeling desired.

It eats at your confidence. Wears you down.

Telling Sophie about the divorce was the hardest thing I'd had to do. We agreed on joint custody, so Sophie alternated between a week at her dad's and a week at our wonderful new house on Abingdon Road, which she adored. It was a difficult adjustment for her, but she gradually adapted well to our new reality.

We found Fait Maison on Stratford Road on one of our first walks around our new neighbourhood, instantly falling in love with the beautiful décor and the exotic café vibe of the place. And the food was to die for.

Sunday brunch at this beautiful spot, every week that Sophie stayed with me, became our way of connecting better, a haven away from the everyday hustle and bustle to talk about the week's plans, unload teenage drama or reflect on life in general over French toast or yummy shakshuka.

The divorce was finalised a few months after Sophie's fourteenth birthday.

I was suddenly 33 and single again.

It felt liberating and terrifying at the same time.

I tried the dating apps, but I hated the shallowness. No emotion, no real connection. They say blondes have more fun. I found that online, blondes mostly attract more creeps.

So, I stopped. Decided that I would take some time to get my new life on track, spend time with Sophie and work on my business. Love would happen if it happened.

And then, when I wasn't looking, I was struck by lightning.

---

London, April.

"Mum?"

The late April sun shone in the window, illuminating the colourful interior of my favourite café, at our traditional late Sunday mother-daughter breakfast at Fait Maison.

"Mum?"

I picked at my poached eggs on smashed avocado, my mind far away.

"Hey, MUM!"

I snapped back, looking up at the frowning teenager at the other side of the table.

"I'm sorry sweetie, what did you say?"

"I said..." she paused and then shrugged. "Oh, never mind, it's not important."

She stabbed annoyingly at her French toast, doing her best to make me feel guilty. Succeeding as usual. I swear that girl could pout for England.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, just a bit distracted."

She huffed, and I could see the fight leave her shoulders. She was never one to sulk for long. It was one of her qualities that made us able to communicate better than some other mother-daughter teams that I knew.

She looked up again, those bright green eyes and long lashes melting my heart just like the first day I held her in my arms nearly fifteen years ago. She looked a bit worried though.

"You're always distracted, Mum. What's going on with you?"

"I don't know, baby."

I knew.

"Maybe I'm still getting used to it being just the two of us, you know?"

It wasn't that.

Her eyes narrowed. She stabbed at her French toast again.

"Fine, don't tell me then."

Her disappointment was written all over her face, but this wasn't something I was prepared to talk to her about. It was too complicated. I just needed to get over it.

"Can you drive me to Christa's later?"

"Of course, sweetheart, when do you want to go?"

---

'Drip, drip, drop little April showers...' ran through my head as I made the dash from my car to the entrance of the building that housed our small design studio in Battersea. Bambi had been Sophie's favourite Disney film when she was little, and that song got stuck in my mind whenever it rained. And it was even April now, so there.

"Good morning, Jemima, Tom."

"Good morning boss!" Tom was obviously in good spirits.

Jemima followed me to my desk and held out some papers.

"Mr. Andrews would like you to call him about the Whitechapel office redecoration. It's about the meeting room."

"Oh, I wish he would give up on that meeting room nonsense. It will only fit four people anyway and will just crowd the space. There's a perfectly good sixteen chair meeting room on the second floor."

"All the same, he wants you to call."

"Fine, I'll call him. Anything else?"

"I got the Shoreditch job!" Tom had a huge smile on his face.

"You did!? Well done you magnificent scoundrel!"

Tom took a bow. The renovation and reimagining of an old café/restaurant in Shoreditch was an account that we'd had our eyes on for months, after it was bought by one of our former clients.

It was going to be a big job for a small interior design studio like ours, but one that would look great on our résumé.

"They want to meet us next week to go over the details."

"Super! Set it up, there's not much in my diary next week, but I can't on Thursday, I have to take Sophie to the doctor's."

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, fine, just a regular teenage-girl-check-up sort of thing."

"Oh okay, I'll see if I can schedule it on Wednesday then. I've got a full Monday of meetings in my diary, and I have to finish the Morgan pitch on Tuesday."

Tom and I met at Uni after I had Sophie, and we hit it off right away. He was a good friend, a great designer, and an even better business partner. We started our little firm at my kitchen table soon after we finished and used his talent and charm, and mine and Ed's family's business contacts to rapidly grow. We were still small in the grand scheme of things, but we did well enough for Sophie and I to live comfortably and on our own terms.

Ed's mother still insisted on paying her school fees, which obviously made it easier, and before his father died, they had set up a hefty trust fund that she would gain access to when she turned 21. My girl would not have to worry about money in the future, and I was extremely thankful for it.

"Is Benjamin back from Brussels? Would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow for a little celebration?" Tom's husband worked at the Foreign Office and was on a rotation between London and Nato HQ in Brussels.

"I'm picking him up at Paddington at five thirty, I'm sure he'd love to come."

"Great, Jemima, are you free? No hot dates?"

"Not this weekend, I'd love to, thanks."

Tom sat down at his desk on the other side of the studio space.

"Speaking of hot dates, how did things go with the hot architect?"

Jemima raised her eyebrows.

"Hot architect? How come I haven't heard of this?"

I rolled my eyes.

"It was nothing, just drinks with someone Lennon set me up with. Works with Oliver. I suffered the obligatory two drinks and superficial chat and then fled."

"So, what was wrong with this one?"

"Nothing, he was just... really boring." I wrinkled my brow. "What do you mean 'this one'?"

"I mean that you are very good at finding something wrong with pretty much everyone you go on dates with. Not that there are many of them. I saw the picture of this one... he was a right dish."

"Shut up Tom, it's not... it's just not what I'm looking for right now."

"So, what are you looking for then, if it's not 'hot, smart and rich'?'" Tom was tilting his head looking at me curiously.

My mind was suddenly filled with beautiful small breasts and pinkish nipples, a hot, full arse and a deliciously wet pussy.

"Erm..."

"Interesting."

"What?" I tried to shake the silly feeling that he knew exactly what I had been thinking about.

"I think you know exactly what you want."

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Yes Boss!" He saluted stupidly and chuckled as he turned back to his desk.

"I'm not your boss, you clown."

"Whatever you say, Boss."

Jemima smiled and hurried to the front room to grab the phone.

"Wallace and Parker Interior Design; How may I help you?"

As I dialled Andrews' number for yet another explanation of why adding a meeting room would ruin the first floor of his new offices, the images evoked by Tom's questions lingered. A pink streaked, dirty blonde ponytail. Warm sapphire eyes.

I shook my head, as if to shake her loose from my mind.

She held on.

---

London, May.

"Can Christa sleep over on Tuesday? We need to finish our history presentation."

"Sure sweetheart, if you promise you won't stay up all night."

"We're not ten anymore Mum." I could hear her roll her eyes at me.

"I know," I chuckled, "it's much worse. You're that terrible thing that comes after ten-year-olds, teenagers!"

"Har-har, very funny." She liked to pretend that mum jokes were even worse than dad jokes, but I could see her smirking out of the corner of my eye.

We drove in silence for a bit.

When we got to the townhouse in Clarendon Road she leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"So, you're sure Christa's mum is going to drive you home after dinner?"

"Yes, Christa said she promised."

"Okay baby, have fun. I'm going to meet Aunt Lennon for dinner, so I'll be home around ten. Text me when you're home safe."

I waved goodbye and waited until she was indoors before I steered the Audi towards home again.

The Colliers were good people. Sophie and Christa Marie had been like twins since elementary school, and I felt lucky that my daughter had such a good friend. I knew how important it was to have someone you could trust and talk to about everything. I had one of those myself, and she'd gotten me through some rough spots.

After a quick stop at home to get my coat, I headed for the Tube. I mainly kept the car to be able to transport Sophie around, and taking a car into Soho and Fitzrovia was just asking for a mental breakdown, even on a Sunday afternoon. Plus, since Anne was driving Sophie home, I could have a few drinks.

I got off at Tottenham Court and walked the few minutes to Berners Street, to our favourite drinks-before-dinner spot. As I turned into the fancy glass entrance at the Edition the doorman nodded a welcome and held the door for me.

I spotted Lennon in the sofa on the right-hand side and plopped down beside her, mercifully facing away from the dreadful giant chrome alien egg that dominated the space.

"Hey Len."

"You're late. I started without you." She sipped her Pink Bicycle unapologetically.

"Sorry. I had to drop Sophie off at Christa's and then get the car home."

"May I get you something?" A crisp waiter slid soundlessly to my side. She was eying me expectantly with a polite smile.

I started to ask for a prosecco to start with, but Lennon cut me off.

"No, no, we need something stronger than that today. Give her a Pink Bicycle please and don't hold back on the gin. And be a darling and bring us some olives as well please. Thank you."

She put down the menu as the waiter nodded and slid away towards the bar.

"Oliver is driving me mad!"

I chuckled.

"What has the poor darling done now?" I loved Oliver. He was the sweetest, calmest, most caring man I knew. How on Earth he ended up married to my hurricane of a best friend was a mystery to all but them.

"Don't you 'poor darling' him! I need you to be on my side for once!"

I smirked and waited. Lennon rarely let the silence stretch for long.

"He's gotten it into his head that he wants to buy West Ham season tickets! And not just for him, but for my dad and George as well. That's like well over two thousand pounds, at best!"

I listened as she fumed about her husband's desire to spend time with her dad and her brother on their hallowed home ground, knowing that she would quiet down after the first fifteen minutes or so.

When my drink and the bowl of olives came, the waiter carried them on a tray in front of her. As she put them on the table, the memory of another tray of food coming down from shoulder height in a practiced flowing motion popped into my mind. A crisp white waiter's shirt being peeled off, revealing a cute bralette and a belly button piercing flashed in my mind's eye. As well as some other things.

"... and I know what he's trying to do, you know, and it's fucking sweet, but my dad's going to have a stroke! Ollie will have to go to every game! And he doesn't even like football!" She took a gulp of her drink and then blew out a breath.

"Anyways, that's me and my idiot husband. What's going on with you?" The hurricane had blown over and now it was time to fix whatever was presently wrong with me. Lennon never changed.

She knew me better than I did. We met on the first day of school and since then she had been my other half, my second conscience and my confessor.

She held my hand as I waited for the pregnancy test to show two lines when we were eighteen, and she held my hand when my water broke early and got me to the hospital, scared out of my wits. She held my hand when I decided to tell Ed that I wanted a divorce. She loved Sophie like her own daughter, and I told her everything about anything.

Well. Almost.

"What's with you lately?"

"What?"

Her eyes narrowed. Sophie got the exact same look when she wanted to know something I wasn't telling her. It was frightening how much she picked up from her favourite aunt Lennon.

"How did it go with Harmon?"

"Uhm, he was... erm..."

"You ditched him?"

"I didn't ditch him; we had a perfectly amicable date and then I left."

"Oh, perfectly amicable you say, pip, pip, and all that sort of thing. I dare say!"

I tried to keep a straight face as she put on her most ridiculously posh one, the one she reserved for making fun of 'all those Royal twats' and me when she thought I was being a posh arse.

"Okay, fine, he was about as boring as a guided tour of the Tower of London, happy now?"

She cracked a small smile.

"The Tower of London?"

"Yeah, all bloody ravens."

We giggled like idiots and then raised our glasses in unison.

"Nevermore!"

Old joke.

She put down her glass.

"Fine, I won't bother you with architects any more then. Even the hot ones."

"Thank you."

Her eyes narrowed again.

"So, are you seeing someone else?"

"What? No."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why? You're single, you're talented, you're successful, you're utterly and unfairly gorgeous, your tits alone could start and end wars. Why the hell aren't you knee deep in men?"

I blushed and sipped my Pink Bicycle.

"Shut up Len, I've told you, I'm not ready to..."

"Yes, yes, I know, not looking, emotional connection, blah, blah. But you forget, I know you, sunshine. A girl has needs. Your battery bill must be bloody enormous."

I nearly spit out my drink laughing.

She looked smug holding her pink drink. She was the only one to know all my sexual preferences, even the ones Ed never got to know about, after many drunken nights of sharing hopes, fantasies and frustrations. I was pretty sure poor darling Oliver never realised how little there was I didn't know about his sex life.

"Okay, look, just talk to me. You looked happy after Christmas, you were glowing. You looked like you were getting regular servicing, if you get my drift. But it's like you're somewhere else now. I don't know what's eating you, but it's something. And you're not telling me, and that's not normal. So... what? Spill."

I knew her. She wouldn't let up until I caved.

So, I blew out a breath and I told her about Lyon.

She listened.

When I was done, she was the one to blow out her breath.

"Okay, I'm going to need another drink before we unpack this."

She was looking at me like I needed help. But then again, she usually looked at me that way when I told her anything about my love life, or lack thereof. Granted, this was a bit different than anything I had told her in the last few years.

"Oh hey, could you please get us two of these pink things again, but go double on the gin this time please, we're going to need these strong, okay?"

The waiter nodded her of courses, grabbed my empty glass and disappeared.

"Lennon, look it just..."

"Oh no, you are not getting away with Lennoning me this time." She finished her drink.

I braced for impact.

"Okay, so first things first. A girl?" She raised an eyebrow at me again.

"A... woman, yeah."

"A woman, girl, we're talking tits, pussy, the fairer sex, yeah?"

"Don't be crass, Len. Yes, a beautiful, sexy woman. Why are you surprised?"

"Oh, not surprised as such, I mean, I knew you were bi before you did..."

Embarrassingly true.

"... but you never really acted on it much way back, and even if Ed wouldn't have turned down a cheeky threesome..."

"Hey, now look here..." This was a touchy subject. I hated the hurtful myths of bisexuals being greedy cheaters unable to have monogamous relationships.

"... wait, wait, I know how you feel about that but I'm just establishing a pattern here..."

I backed down. I knew where this was going anyway.

"... because all you talked about, and all you acted on when you got your freedom again... how do I put this for you posh like and not crass...? Let's just say all your conquests were of the phallic persuasion, yeah?"

She wasn't wrong.

The waiter put down our drinks, not batting an eye at my alleged and too loudly declared phallic conquests.

"Yeah. So, I guess, while on the one hand I'm going Yay! Go bi-Becks! but on the other hand, I'm wondering why now? And more importantly... Why her?"

"Uhm, I don't..."

"Don't give me an 'I don't know'." She went quiet and looked me in the eye. "Talk to me."

I sighed and took a gulp of my drink. I looked around, a bit uncomfortable discussing my sex life in a public place like this.

"You know what was missing from my marriage, what was never there with Ed. Okay, maybe not never, but like, for the last ten years."

"Real intimacy."

"Yeah, intimacy. Emotional connection. That feeling of knowing exactly what your partner needs and wanting to give it completely. That spark, no, flame... you know... that feeling when your heart just sings with the right person, and you can feel that they feel it too?"

I wiped the tears away before they could run down my cheeks.

"Oh honey... I know. You stayed too long." Lennon took my hand.

I looked her in the eye and told her the truth she had asked for.

"Lennon, I felt a more real connection with her in those two nights than I did in twelve years of marriage."

For once, Lennon was quiet.

"I don't know how, but... we just... clicked. Everything was just right. You know?"

She nodded. Her voice was low.

"Yeah, I know." Despite all her griping, her love for Oliver ran deep.

"I can't explain it, I just..."

She waited again. For all her loudness she was the world's best listener.

"... need that, you know? And I feel like... that I found it with this random hookup girl in France, and that maybe she was the only one, and..."

Her face looked like it did when we waited for that pregnancy test fifteen years ago. Worried, but filled with love and support.

"What?"

"... and I'll start going on dates and hook up with people... but I'll never find it again."

I dried my eyes.

"It's just messing up my feelings Len, I have this lingering crush that I can't shake. Is that crazy?"

"No honey, it's not crazy. A bit inconvenient, with her living across the Channel and all but... no... not crazy at all."

I squeezed her hand.

"Thank you."

She looked thoughtful.

"So, this girl... sorry, woman... what's her name?"

"Julie."

"Julie? No last name?"

"No... I mean she has one, but I don't know it." She did that annoying eyebrow thing, the one that said I should have known better. I never liked that eyebrow.

"She's from South London, she works at the Intercontinental, her mom is French, she's like, I don't know, 26?" I closed my eyes as Lennon raised an eyebrow. "God this is so stupid. I don't even know her full name."

"Oh girl, you've got it bad, don't you?" She was smirking a little at me now, sensing that I had moved from emotional to annoyed.

"Yes!" I facepalmed. "And I don't know why! It's driving me crazy Lennon, it's been months! I should be over this, but I just keep remembering her eyes and her hair, and her smell, and her..." I bit my lip.

Her smirk reached her eyes, and suddenly we were in familiar territory.

"Sooo... good sex, yeah?"

I couldn't help but smile, as I remembered fierce kisses, her nipples between my teeth, her head between my legs, her fingers in my mouth wet with our juices, her sexy red bum cheeks shaking as my hand landed stinging blows on them, the look in her wide open eyes as she came on my fingers, her taste, her moans, her yelps, her whines, her... service.

"Len, there is good sex, and then there is life changing sex."

"Holy shit." Her eyes grew large.

I sipped my drink. My hand trembled a bit.

"You know, the things I could never explore with Ed? The... eh..." I looked around, "... not vanilla... things?"

"Your kinks, sure." Nothing fazed Lennon. She had some kinks of her own that dear Oliver happily obliged. It was part of their magic.

I could feel myself flushing, my ears warming.

"Well... uhm... we matched... like that, if you know what I mean. Matched hard."

"Oh, nice."

"Yeah."

"Even the, eh..." she made a gesture, like Lisa Simpson choking Bart, silly face and all.

I looked around, embarrassed to be talking about this here.

"Uhm, yes."

"Oh, that's... uhm, we might need a whole night of G&Ts to unpack that particular bag of filth, you pervert."

I nearly snorted my drink out through my nose laughing. She joined in and for a short while we giggled like maniacs. When we calmed down, she got serious.

"So, you're in love with your kinky Christmas one night stand."

"I'm not in love!"

I got the eyebrow again. Fuck that eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, but the lady doth protest a tad much, yeah?"

I gave her my 'shut up Lennon' face, invented by necessity very early in our relationship and perfected by regular use over a quarter century. The only effective eyebrow killer in my arsenal.

"Fiiine then, you're not in love." She rolled her eyes at me. "Look, what if you're just feeling the aftershocks of getting fucked the way you need for the first time in more than a decade? You first girl since you were what, eighteen? Getting your kinky freak on? And she was hot, nice and good in bed? I mean that's bound to leave a memory. A fucking good one, going by what you've told me."

"Yeah, I know. That's probably it."

She was right, it was the first time in ages that sex had really done it for me. Maybe that was just messing with my head.

"Okay, let's try this then..."

She tossed back the dregs of her drink for dramatic effect.

"You have this amazing memory of a fucking great one-night stand..."

"Two-nights stand."

"... fine, two-nights stand, your Royal Pedanticness. So, tell me this: Are you going to do something about it?"

I didn't answer right away. Do what? Fly to Lyon to find a bartender that I slept with twice, and proclaim my love? And oh, could you perhaps tell me your last name, and anything else I should know before we get married?

No. That wasn't going to happen. I didn't even know if she would remember me. And whatever would she want with a divorcée in her thirties with a teenage daughter? She was years younger than me. It was a laughable idea.

Maybe I should just try to find a woman to fuck and get this out of my system. Maybe that was just what this was, a bisexual early midlife crisis.

I sighed.

"No, of course not. I'll just have to shake it off and get on with my life."

"Maybe you should just have at it with some girls, yeah? To hell with finding the perfect emotional connection. I mean, you've got the house to yourself every other week, go pick up some fit ones and fuck it out of your system." She topped that off with a lewd grin.

"Shut up Lennon."

She held the grin, waggling her eyebrows at me. I caved and joined in the grin.

"Fine, I'll think about it."

Maybe a good fuck was all I needed.

---

London, June.

Her name was Michaela. Slender, fit body, somewhat androgynous in a hot Ruby Rose kind of way. Short black hair, sexy brown eyes, cool piercings in her ears and nose, full kissable lips, a very hot arse.

I picked her up at a club in Soho, or rather, she picked me up. Sultry eyes undressing me from across the floor, confident approach, smooth lines, electric kiss, hands roaming while we danced.

We stood at the foot of my bed, but most of our clothes were left on the hallway floor. We didn't wait long after we got in from the taxi. My panties were wet, and her sexy body was hot under my hands.

Her fingers pinched my nipples while her tongue played with mine in a deep kiss. I moaned into her mouth as she moved her hands down her body to hold my ass and pull her towards me. Her chest rubbed against my hard nipples, sending electric currents down to my pussy.

"Ooohh fuck you are so hot baby. So fucking beautiful. Come here gorgeous, I love your tits." She was vocal, assertive.

I nibbled on her lip as she played with my breasts and slid my fingers down the front of her open jeans, finding a bare mound and a wet clit. I felt a metal stud in her hood and tugged on it. She blew out a sharp breath as I eagerly rubbed her clit, playing with her piercing, going at it hard.

"Oh my God, Oh my God, oh, a bit slower baby, oooh yes, like that."

I pushed her back on the bed and fell over her, sucking a thick, dark nipple into my mouth as I slid my fingers lower, teasing her wet entrance.

"Ooohh Goood yes."

She was loud. I liked it. I applied a bit of pressure on her nipple with my teeth.

"Oh, oooh, fuck yeah."

I nibbled on it for real.

"Ow, ow too much, bit sensitive... oooh yes like that, mmmmm."

As I eased off and flattened my tongue on her nipple. I got up on my knees and pulled her jeans off, and dove into her pussy, sucking her lips between mine, raking my teeth over her piercing, pushing it, rubbing against her clit.

"Fuuu... huuuck yes baby, yes! Oh, oh, ohhhh..."

She really was sensitive. I slid my fingers into her and fucked her slowly, building up speed with my fingers and my tongue. It took her some time to cum, but when she got there she grabbed my hair hard and wailed loudly, giving the neighbours a clear image of what was happening.

She turned me on my back and we sixtynined. She ate me enthusiastically, playing with my ass while she fucked me with her fingers and sucked my clit. Oh, she was good. After my third orgasm I wondered why I'd wasted more than 12 years on one-orgasm-at-a-time-sex with men.

When she left, a bit after five in the morning, she kissed me goodbye and I let her out, locked the door, and smiled. I felt very good about myself. I'd just had sex with a hot girl. Good sex. Very good sex.

I picked my panties up from the floor smiling and threw them into the hamper, crawled into bed and closed my eyes. I ran a finger softly over my pussy, feeling sensitive after getting fucked by tongue and fingers for over two hours. My mind drifted to the hot things she had done to me. I could still taste her pussy.

Lennon was right. I needed this.

I fell asleep with my finger on my clit, thinking of a soft, warm body tucked closely into mine under the covers.

---

"Good for you! Woohoo! So how was it? Is she cute? Hot? What? Tell me!"

"Keep it down Len, please! Sophie is upstairs" I was mortified at her hooting; She just grinned at me.

"Oh, fine," she lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned towards me conspiratorially. I leaned closer.

"Was It good? Did you cum a lot?" I pulled back, trying to glare at her but failing miserably. Her grin was just too infectious. So, I picked up my mug of tea, stuck my pinkie out and put on my poshest face.

"It was quite satisfactory, if you must know."

She cackled.

"I love that for you, so happy, really." She popped a bit of sponge cake in her mouth.

"Are you going to see her again?"

"No! Don't be daft! She was a hot fling, hardly a love story for the ages."

I looked at my tea. Something had been troubling me for a while now.

"And, anyway... hooking up once in a while is one thing, but... I'm not sure I'm ready to date... pursue a relationship I mean... with a woman."

Lennon watched me over her mug of tea.

"Okay. Why not?"

I was relieved she wasn't being flippant about this.

"Well, I'm... okay, you're maybe going to think this is stupid, but... I'm not out, Lennon."

"Yeah, I get that, it's a big step, but still, I've known for like forever, and Ed knows, and I'm sure your parents are fine with it, I mean they've always been cool with Tom and Benjamin. And Ed can handle his mother if she goes all old-Tory-lady on you. And..."

She stopped.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"Yeah but... I mean... kids these days are so much more open to everything, it's not like... I mean she's nearly fifteen; she knows about these things."

I looked into my mug again. Swirling my tea.

"I know Len... I'm not worried that she'll hate me for being bi, not really. But still..."

"So, what is it?"

I sighed. This was probably stupid, but I was scared. It might be irrational, but this was a big thing, telling my girl who I was, what I was... who I liked.

"How do you come out to your kid, Lennon? How? How do I tell her that for all her life she's only known a part of me? That I've not told her this big thing about me, this very important part of who I am? Not trusted her to know the real me? What is she going to think? What if she thinks I've changed, that I'm somehow different than before?"

"I don't think..."

"And there's another thing... no, listen, when we were seventeen, how would you have felt if your mum had suddenly started dating women, right after your parents got divorced?"

"I guess I... I get what you mean, but..."

She wrinkled her brow.

"Yeah, okay, I wouldn't have taken that well. I would have blamed her, probably. Sorry." She looked at me pleadingly. "But Sophie's not me..."

Thank God.

"... and your divorce wasn't anything like the crash and burn my parents had. She knows why you're not together anymore."

"Yes, but she just knows what we've told her. That doesn't mean she doesn't wonder if there's something we haven't told her. And then this? She could think that I was unfaithful or that I never loved her dad. She might resent me, Lennon."

She reached over the table and took my hand.

"No, stop it. She won't resent you. She loves you, and she knows that you love her. I pray that I'll have as good a relationship with my kids when they grow into their teens."

She paused for a second and squeezed my hand.

"Look, you want to tell her, right?"

I nodded.

"Then better sooner than later, yeah? You don't want her to find out some other way."

I sighed.

"And besides, she is smart, and she loves you. She'll understand. She'll be happy that you trust her with who you really are. She'll be proud of her old mum."

I squeezed her hand back.

"Thank you. I hope so. It's just so scary. The whole idea of coming out publicly is daunting, but... I'm terrified that Sophie will feel that I've been keeping this big secret from her, and that this is what split up our family."

I closed my eyes and lowered my voice.

"And then it's, you know, talking about my... preferences that way... it's got to be awkward for her, for both of us. God knows I've blocked out the very idea of my parents having sex. Even just saying it feels yucky. How can I talk to her about who I'm attracted to without... horribly embarrassing us both?"

I put down my mug and covered my eyes with my hands.

"I'm scared, Len, she puts on a brave face, but I know the divorce is still raw for her."

Lennon started to say something but rapid footsteps on the stairs stopped her.

I sat up and put my best mum face on.

"Oooh sponge cake! Am I not invited to this tea party?"

I smiled at her.

"Well, I don't know. Is it your unbirthday by any chance?"

"Yes, it is! A very merry unbirthday to me!" She claimed two pieces of cake on the plate I had set out for her, poured herself some tea and scooped half the sugar bowl into her mug.

"Hey there Mad Hatter." Lennon gave her a one-handed hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Hey there Caterpillar."

"Caterpillar!? I will have you know that in this tea party, and indeed in all tea parties, I am the Queen of Hearts, not some hookah sucking insect wise arse."

Sophie burst out laughing at Lennon's faked indignation.

"Alright Aunt Lennon, sorry, I forgot. Off with my head!"

I smiled at their easy banter. My two favourite women in the world.

I wondered what it would feel like, adding a third.

---

London, July.

"Mum, can I borrow your Chanel weekend bag?"

"Sure honey, it's in my wardrobe, top left."

I sat at the kitchen table looking over some draft changes for the Shoreditch job, while Sophie and Christa stomped around upstairs like a herd of elephants, doing last minute packing and planning for the weekend in Manchester with Ed. He had gotten Sophie tickets to Taylor Swift for the three of them for Christmas, and the girls were going bonkers with anticipation, now that the concert was only two days away.

I was feeling good. I was happy for Sophie to go see her idol in concert, and I was looking forward to the weekend. Tomorrow was Friday and Len and I had a girl's night out planned in Soho, she'd been hounding me to let her be my 'wingman', as she put it. I was looking forward to it. It gave me a bit more confidence exploring the sapphic scene.

I had been so wrong to only look at men after Ed and I separated. So wrong.

I finished the rest of my lunch toast and made some notes about the changes I wanted to make to the bar area. I wanted to give it a top upscale feel but still keep the décor and the flow of the place warm and intimate. I wanted this place to be a rose in London's flora of speakeasies. I reached for the phone to call Tom. He was lead on this project, and I didn't want to go too far with something he wasn't on board with.

When I put the phone down again something was different. Apart from the Taylor Swift playlist on repeat upstairs, it was quiet. I chuckled, perhaps they had finally worn themselves out with excitement.

Tom was happy with my idea, so I made a few more notes and reached for my mug.

"Hey, uhm... Mum?"

I nearly spilled my tea.

"Oof, you gave me a fright." I turned and took in the two stealthy ninjas standing behind me. Sophie had a look on her face that I couldn't exactly read. Behind her, Christa looked curious and excited, fiddling with her wild auburn curls.

Something was up. I hesitated.

"Yeeeees...?"

Sophie's eyes searched mine and she held out her hand to give me something.

"Uhm, this fell out of the front pocket of your bag. I thought maybe you wanted to keep it." Her face was still unreadable.

I took the small card from her hand, thinking it was just some of the bag's labels. It was rather new; I'd bought it just before...

Time slowed down.

... Christmas.

I was staring at a concierge card from The Hotel-Dieu de Lyon. My heart lurched. Memories came rushing back.

There was writing on the front.

If you are ever in Lyon madame.

A +33 telephone number.

And a cute little heart.

"Mum?"

Shit.

"Is it important?"

She was fishing. She had figured out that this wasn't just some regular old hotel card. The message was too obviously personal. But maybe I could just brush it off...

My mind was racing, conflicting emotions screaming at each other.

She gave me her number...

Happiness. Hope.

... and Sophie found it.

Fear, anxiety, panic.

Shit.

I caught Christa's eye.

Double shit.

That one was very, very smart.

She knew what this meant. I could see it. And that meant Sophie knew as well. The two of them were a well-oiled machine.

And so, if Sophie was fishing, then she was just giving me a chance to explain before...

"Did you meet someone in Lyon over Christmas?"

... Christa asked what they were both thinking.

It had been very quiet up there when I got off the phone. They'd had plenty of time to talk about this. Examine the card, the delicate handwriting. That sweet little heart at the end of madame, that somehow filled mine with joy.

Maybe they had even already looked up the owner of the number online.

I could feel myself flush red.

I looked at Sophie, still staring at me, patiently waiting for an answer, but faintly aloof now.

No. No please. I looked her in the eye and gave her as close to the truth as I was prepared to do right now, my voice hopefully less shaky than I felt.

"Yes, I made a new friend there. She works at that cool hotel bar I showed you when you called me, remember?"

Sophie nodded slowly. "Yeah, the one with the huge Christmas tree?"

"Is she French? What's her name?" Christa had her hooks in and wasn't letting go.

I tried to breathe normally.

"Julie. She's from London..."

In my mind the first letter took on that sexy French swirl of the tongue that suited her so well. Julie.

"... that's how we got talking. She was really nice."

"Oh, okay. That's cool."

I could see the wheels turning in Sophie's mind. Christa Marie was silent for once, thank heavens. I had to try to fix this.

"Look Sophie, sweetheart..."

She hadn't looked away from me for a second. I was busted. I felt flushed and horrible.

"... can we maybe talk on Sunday evening, when you get back from Manchester? There's something I'd like to talk to you about, but not right now, just before you're leaving."

Her brow furrowed a little.

"Please, sweetheart? It's important to me, I want us to have some time to chat, okay? You understand?"

I could see the tension leave her shoulders a little and she gave me a small smile.

"Yeah, okay Mum."

"Thank you, sweetie, now go finish your packing, your dad will be here at three to pick you guys up."

Christa turned towards the stairs, looking back at me, still with that excited glow in her eyes.

Sophie started to turn but then came back and gave me a hug. No words, just a great, big hug like she often gave me.

It calmed my screaming nerves a smidge.

I watched her follow Christa and then heard them stomp up the stairs.

My hands were shaking. I wasn't sure how much of it was the phone number and the message on the card, and how much of it was that my daughter maybe suspected me to have taken a lesbian lover at Christmas.

Stop it. Maybe she just thought I'd made a friend, or at most had a date. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe...

I looked at the card again. Imagined her writing it when I was in the shower and slipping it into my bag.

A way of letting me know...

I swallowed.

... she was available. She wanted to meet me again.

I could feel my nipples pucker.

No. I couldn't do this. It had been nearly seven months. I was over this. I was having fun with... others. She could be in a relationship; she could have moved to another job. She could have moved jobs for all I knew, and I'd never find her again, ever. She lived in bloody France! This was stupid!

She could be single and waiting for my call.

I stared at the number.

I picked up my phone and searched the number on the first French phone book site I could find online. Nothing. I found another one. Still nothing.

It said I could pay for the info on the person that the number was registered to, but these sites were famous money scams.

I Googled the number and her first name. The only one I had.

Nothing.

Shit.

But maybe that was good. That probably meant that the girls hadn't found her either, if they had looked. That made me breathe a little easier.

I looked at the card and then punched the number into my phone. Saved it under Julie - Lyon.

And just looked at it.

My thumb hovered over the call button.

She wrote 'If you're ever in Lyon'.

Not 'call me anytime'.

What if she had no interest in talking to me? What if she was just after sex? It looked that way. And I wasn't in Lyon.

And Sophie was still upstairs.

I breathed out and went to messages.

The text box blinked, waiting for my entry.

I stared.

I didn't know what to say.

No.

No.

I tried five or six different messages, and they were all terrible.

I needed Lennon for this, so badly. Maybe I could meet up with her later when Sophie and Christa were gone.

I kept writing, the stupid drafts getting increasingly weird and desperate.

I sighed and gave up. This was a very bad idea. Why was I torturing myself with this?

I stared at the words.

Words that I had been denying for seven months.

+++++ Julie +++++

Lyon, Boxing Day morning.

When I opened my eyes, I could feel her warm breath on my neck.

She was spooning me again, her hot body pressed against mine under the covers.

She felt wonderful.

I felt her lips brush the bruise on my shoulder, ever so lightly. My heart sang.

She understood me. I felt seen.

I turned my head.

"Bonjour madame."

"Bonjour Julie. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. You're so warm. What time is it?"

"Ten fifteen."

"I've got to get home to get a clean shirt before my shift."

The inevitable end loomed over us. I stroked her hand, draped over my chest.

"I don't want to go." Her voice was a whisper.

"I don't want you to go."

Silence.

I felt her hot breath in my ear.

Her tongue playing with my earlobe.

My breath quickened.

"Make me stay madame," I whispered.

I could feel her tremble against my body. It was amazing to feel how much this breathtakingly beautiful woman wanted me.

Her fingers laced into the back of my hair as her fingers found my nipple.

She closed her fist and pulled my head back, just enough to make me feel that she was in control. Oh, perfect.

Her breath was loud in my ear now. Heavy. Her hand left my nipples and ran down my body, between my thighs, finding my clit.

"Yes madame, oh yes..."

She massaged it slowly, insistently, rolling her fingers in circles around it, dipping into me to find my wetness, spreading it around my pussy, under my hood, over my clit.

"Oh, ooohh yes!" The pleasure built slowly, and I felt her fist pull my head further, making me arch my back.

I was in heaven. I was hers.

Sa servante.

She pleasured me like that slowly, my hair locked in her fist, my body arching to her pull, gradually speeding up her fingers on my clit.

She whispered fantasies in my ear, things she would like to do to me, with me, watch done to me. Obscene things. Painful things. Wonderful things. Her sexy voice putting dirty images of us in my mind, amplifying my pleasure, rushing me towards the edge.

And then my whole body suddenly quivered in a breathtaking orgasm, my body trying to curl up but her fist keeping me under her control, holding my head pulled back, pushing my orgasm even higher.

It was bliss.

Her fingers stroked my hair from my face as I lay in her arms, aftershocks shooting through me. Kissing me. Holding me. Making me feel loved. Cared for.

Later, as I stood by the door, she took my hands in hers. The hotel robe was loosely tied around her waist. I looked into her shining green eyes. Her golden mane fell over her shoulders, still a bit damp from the shower. My perfect, lovely déesse.

"Julie. I'm... I..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She just held my eyes, lost in thought.

I knew how she felt.

I couldn't find anything to say. Nothing could express my feelings.

So, I just reached for her cheek, felt her soft skin under my fingers, stood on tiptoes and kissed her goodbye.

Our lips met for a last spark of Christmas magic, and then it was done.

"Au revoir madame. Au revoir... mon amour."

I walked out of her life, carefully preserving the memory of that last magical kiss in my heart.

---

Lyon, July.

"Certainement monsieur, je l'apporterai tout de suite."

I gave a courtesy bow and put the tray under my arm as I turned away from table three, to fetch the extra glass of Crozes-Hermitage.

I crossed paths with Jaques on my way to the bar, as he strode confidently towards table eight, full tray raised high above his shoulder. He was a right cunt, but as much as I hated to admit it, I had learned a lot from him during the past year.

The gas heaters that had warmed the guests of Le Dôme during the winter were gone, and instead bouquets of summer flowers dominated the décor in the Hotel-Dieu. May had been a bit rainy, but the summer heats were blazing now.

I was proud of my first year here. The standards of service at the Hotel-Dieu de Lyon were second to none, and being hired at one of the finest hotel bars in the world had been a professional dream come true. It had been a sharp step up, but I felt that I had lived up to the expectations. I came away from this first year with a wealth of experience.

Professional and personal.

"Crozes-Hermitage s'il vous plaît."

I put the glass down on table three with a smile, and walked over to table six, where two women were finishing their charcuterie and Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

"May I get you anything else mes dames? Perhaps a refill?"

"Non merci mademoiselle, if you could just bring us the check, please?"

"Certainement madame."

As I turned away my eyes darted to the empty sofa at table seven, my heart twinging at the memory of a brown suede ballet flat, dangling loose from a perfect foot.

To cherish whatever time I was given... and then letting go.

"Julie, I need a Plaid on Plaid Whiskey Sour, a Tikimaka and a Negroni Sbagliato for table five. Ne traîne pas fille!"

"Je t'ai entendu dire putain!" I was not going to let him get away with that. I was a professional, not his 'fille' to boss around. And I was going to make damn sure he learned that.

He glared. I glared back. He nodded.

I made the cocktails and carried them confidently to table five, tray raised high over my shoulder.

This was la France after all. We had standards to keep.

---

"Sure, I'll do that. Give dad a kiss from me. Je t'aime maman, au revoir."

"Au revoir mon chou, je t'aime."

I hung up the phone and stood up from the chair on my small terrace to take the glass to the kitchen. I enjoyed sitting out there in the sun, baking in the heat. Maman called every week to make sure I was eating, and to share nuggets of wisdom about how to navigate life in her native country. She hadn't lived here for over 30 years, but as she kept reminding me, "the world may change mon chou, mais la France c'est la France".

Even though we were further apart than ever before, it somehow brought us closer.

I could feel she was proud of me. It felt nice.

My parents didn't disapprove of my orientation, but they were hardly very supportive either. Our relationship hadn't been very close since I was around sixteen and started partying for real and bringing home girls.

I didn't blame them. I wasn't exactly easy to live with during my partying years. My dad was an old school hard worker, and didn't approve of my antics. He also didn't think 'waitressing' was much of a career. He had come around some in the last few years, but he still didn't understand my passion for professional service.

My flat in Garibaldi was small but nice, and just a short walk and three Metro stops from work. Just enough room to stub my toe on the table twice a week. It was exactly what I needed.

But it was... empty.

I stared at the drying rack in the kitchen. One glass, one plate, one of everything. Solo dinner service, table for one. Very chic.

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of the stupid unwanted thoughts. I sometimes got a bit down after my calls home.

I'd been in Lyon for a year. I wasn't alone. I had friends. Good ones.

Naima worked the floor at the hotel restaurant Epona and Le Dôme like it was a stage. Gorgeous, French-Moroccan, eyes full of mischief, funny and warm. She'd taken me under her wing when I first got here.

Amira from reception was calmer. Steady. We met sometimes on days off for coffee or a walk to the market, swapping gossip and bad TV recommendations.

And then there was Malik. He was a Parisian arse, but remarkably fun to be around when you got him dancing in a club. We grudgingly called ourselves friends, though we regularly threw insults at each other at work.

So, yeah, I wasn't alone.

But I was still lonely.

Relationships had never quite... landed for me. I dated. I tried. But it never stuck. They wanted more, or I did, or we just wore each other out by month four. I kept telling myself I just hadn't met the right woman. But if I was honest, I'd stopped believing that a while ago.

There was always something missing. A charge that never quite caught. A wire not plugged all the way in. I wanted connection, needed it. But I didn't know what it was supposed to feel like.

I had thought there was just something wrong with me.

But after Christmas, I knew there wasn't. I knew what that connection felt like. I knew what I was looking for now.

Of course, I knew it wasn't going to be her, I wasn't delusional. It was a moment. A beautiful, fleeting moment.

Christmas magic.

But ever since, I kept seeing traces of her. Blonde hair that just wasn't gold enough. Eyes just the wrong shade of green. Constant reminders of those 48 hours with the woman who had lit a fire in my mind, left a permanent mark on my soul. Who had shown me what I was missing.

My madame.

I knew I had to let her go, move on.

I'd gone on dates. I'd gone clubbing and picked up girls, tried to fuck her out of my system. That just made it worse, it just underlined how, even though I had great sex with some of them, none of my other partners came close to touching my heart like she had.

So, I stopped.

I wasn't dating or sleeping with anyone because I was pining over a two-night stand five months ago. How stupid was that?

Très stupide Julie.

I didn't know who she was or where she lived, I didn't have her number, and I didn't even know her fucking name. Who was I kidding? I would never meet her again. Why on Earth would this golden haired, perfect goddess even remember a random girl she had random sex with months ago? She probably had mind blowing sex every weekend, every day, whenever she liked. God knew she was gorgeous enough to get pretty much anyone she wanted.

But...

I hoped. I hoped she would remember me. If nothing else, just remember me.

She had felt the magic, like me. It was in the look in her eyes and in the touch of her fingers. In the way her breath quickened as she marked me with her teeth. In her caress when we woke up spooning. In the heat of her lips when she kissed me goodbye on Boxing Day morning.

But she hadn't called.

No texts.

Nothing.

When I slipped my number into her designer bag, I hadn't expected anything, really. I thought that maybe she'd text me or something.

She hadn't.

She'd talked about maybe coming here again this summer... but she wouldn't.

And even if she did, why would she call me? She'd probably have her teenage daughter with her, maybe a boyfriend. She wouldn't be looking for a booty call.

I would have to let it go. Put her away as a memory to be cherished. Nothing more. Hope that I too was a nice memory for her. That was all.

I got my phone out and texted Naima to check if she wanted to grab dinner. That was a go.

I threw my fanny pack over my shoulder, got my Vans and stomped out to drown my sorrows in some spicy Afghan lamb kebab.

As I made my way towards Rue Paul Bert in the afternoon sun, I decided to finally squash that irrational hope of ever meeting her again. The sooner I forgot about her, the better.

---

"Oh mon dieu, oh oui ma cheri..."

Soleil's tongue circled my clit, flattening, pushing, flicking.

I raised my hips, pushing my mound into her mouth, lost in the lovely pleasure of her mouth on my pussy and her finger buried in my ass.

"Plus fort! Oh fuck yes!, Oui, c'est bon, c'est bon!!"

Her finger hit exactly the right spot inside me, making the orgasm descend on me in a few hard hits. It bloomed from inside me, igniting my clit, the way that just makes you want to stay on that edge forever, stay in that overload feeling just before it hits you and the muscles clench, and your breath blows out.

Oh, fuck it was good. There was something about anal that just got me off fast.

"Ooooohhhhhhh yes..."

She sat up with a smug grin on her face.

"C'était bien?"

I stretched out on the bed.

"Oh yes baby, oh oui, très bien ma chérie."

She kissed me deep, her tongue playing with mine. She tasted deliciously tangy.

I grabbed her waist and pushed her up, sliding down under her body to find her pretty tits. They hung down from her body, dangling in my face, puffy nipples with hard tips swaying slowly above my tongue, begging to be sucked.

I took them in my mouth, sucking them deep one by one, going between them, letting them brush my face as I moved. God she was sexy.

I pushed her further up. She got the idea.

Her trimmed triangle bush tickled my nose as she sat on my face, her lips opening around my tongue, feeding me her hot juices.

I sucked her, looking up over her body, admiring her cute belly, the underside of her large swaying tits, and staring into her brown eyes until she raised her face to the ceiling and moaned.

Her hands stroked my hair, fingers playing with my locks. Then she reached behind and put her hands on my hips, arching her back and rolling her hips, grinding her pussy on my face. I grabbed her ass and pushed my tongue into her, making her gasp.

My whole face was wet with her juices. I pushed her over on her back and dove into her, sliding my fingers deep into her pussy.

"Oh, j'aime ta chatte."

Her pussy was cute, lips a little darker than her olive tan, one a bit larger than the other. Large hood that completely hid her little clit until she got excited. She was pretty. A pussy that was fun to eat.

She liked having my fingers buried inside her, massaging her front wall. I could feel her clench around me as she got closer to orgasm, harder, faster, and then pushing me out as she came hard.

She made the cutest little squeaks just before she came.

After, she stayed until morning. It felt good waking up with her.

We fucked again before she left.

She was a good lover, attentive, affectionate, enthusiastic.

When she left, I asked if I could see her again.

She said yes and gave me her number before she kissed me goodbye.

I was still smiling when I got out of the shower.

---

"Puis-je avoir votre numéro de chambre, s'il vous plaît?"

I checked off room 142 and showed Mr. Hoffman and his wife to a two-top by the window.

"The breakfast buffet is a full Continental, and my colleague will be with you shortly to take your orders for anything a lá carte. May I get you some coffee?"

Cappuccinos it was.

"Certainement monsieur, madame."

I tipped Jean-Marie to get the coffee to the Hoffmans and went to clear the two four-tops that had just left.

As I let myself glide between the tables, taking orders, bringing coffees, clearing tables and making the guests feel welcome I hummed Aya Nakamura's Djadja in my mind. Picking up breakfast shifts on my days off was a nice change of scenery, and the shift manager bonus was a nice add on. I was in a good mood; the sun was shining, and I had a hot date later.

Talking about hot girls, the Italian brunette in the corner was cute. About my age, short hair and very cute forearm tattoos. Pretty flowers in grey shaded outlines, they suited her.

I snuck some glances at her as I walked past, enjoying her beauty. She was obviously straight though, nothing about her pinged. Shame.

Not that I would have done anything about it, but it was a fun thought. Very fun, very unprofessional thought.

That thought sparked another.

Soleil's tits. Her puffy dark nipples. She had brown hair like that Italian cutie. Longer though, down to her shoulders, and a wicked cool fringe. I loved how it hovered just over her eyes. It made her look mysterious.

Fucking sexy.

Everything about her was sexy.

And she was fun, easy to talk to.

I was looking forward to seeing her again. A bit nervous though, first date in daylight, so to speak. No hanky panky to hide behind this time. Just a cup of coffee and talking. Getting to know each other a bit more than just tongues, fingers and pussies.

I wasn't sure it would go anywhere, but... maybe. The sex was good, and she was nice. I had butterflies. It was fun. It had been a while.

When my morning shift was over, I used the staff changing rooms, left my uniform in the locker and freshened up a little. I redid my ponytail, making sure the wide purple streak was tucked on the outside, and pulled it through the back of my ball cap.

Then I grabbed my fanny pack and walked up to the main entrance, waving to Amira in reception on my way out.

Strictly speaking, staff wasn't supposed to use the front entrance, but it was closer to the station, and I liked how the doors opened up to the river in the blazing noon sun.

It was going to be a good day.

+++++ Madame +++++

Lyon, July.

I closed the door behind me. It was just after midnight. It was dark.

I dropped my weekend bag on the floor and shoved the key card into the light switch. The lush décor was just like I remembered.

I kicked off my Gucci Aces and slumped in the comfortable chair.

I was tired. Upset. Questioning the sanity of my actions today.

The stress to finish my part of the Shoreditch redesign notes and get them to Tom. The quick, slapdash packing while on the phone to him, trying to find a good excuse for not showing up for the review meeting tomorrow. Failing miserably. He sounded worried about me at the end, but said he'd manage, like I knew he would. He was better at managing clients than me anyway.

The mad dash to Heathrow, catching the last flight to Paris because there were no directs that late. The overcooked hamburger I had for a late dinner during the 90-minute layover at Charles de Gaulle, Europe's most boring airport.

On the late flight from Paris to Lyon, thirty thousand feet in the air, it all just crashed over me.

How stupid this was. How idiotic it was to rush off to another country because of a phone number. And then what? Have sex if she was up for it, and go home again? Start this pining shit over again? Or try for some kind of relationship across the bloody Channel? For God knows how long before she moved back to London? If... if she moved back to London. She was half French, a citizen. Working her dream job at one of the fanciest places in France. She might never come back.

If there had been an available flight home when I landed, I would have turned around in customs and gone straight back.

There wasn't, but there was a flight to Gatwick at half past two tomorrow. I booked a seat on it in the taxi on the way to the hotel. I needed somewhere to sleep anyway.

All lit up in the gloomy night, the building looked even more like a palace than I remembered.

I kept my face down when I checked in, feeling like shit.

I didn't see her. Thank God. It would be for the best if she never knew I was here.

My phone dinged.

It was a picture of Sophie in her pyjamas, sitting on her hotel bed, with Christa in the background looking at her phone. My baby was blowing me a kiss.

I felt the tears well up.

My beautiful girl.

I got a big red heart back.

I put the phone down and then I couldn't stop the tears.

I just sat there and cried.

What the hell was I doing here?

---

It took me a few seconds to remember where I was. And then it settled on my brain like a ton of bad decisions.

The Hotel-Dieu de Lyon.

It was nearly ten, and the sun was glaring at me through the windows.

I groaned and got up. I had to be at the airport in time, so I needed to get up. I turned on the shower and closed my eyes, concentrating on the feeling of water running over my face and body.

I felt a little better afterwards. Awake at least.

I dried my hair and put it in a quick, low chignon, and got fresh clothes from my bag. A comfortable cotton bralette and panties, a polo shirt and some cargo pants. I tried not to look at the sexy underwear I had stupidly packed.

Ten over eleven. I needed to be in a taxi at twenty to twelve, I could eat something at the airport. I gathered my things, picked the key from the light slot and stepped out into the corridor. As the door shut behind me with a little click, a terrible wave of sadness washed over me.

I fought the tears and won, barely, and put my sunglasses on in the elevator so it wouldn't be obvious that my eyes were red. I checked out and asked the very pretty and professional girl at reception to call me a taxi to the airport.

All the women in this place were pretty and professional.

I choked down the next thought and sat down in the lobby to wait the five minutes she said it would take.

I checked my phone. Nothing from Sophie yet, but Ed had sent me pictures of them at breakfast, smiling ear to ear, ready to shop Manchester dry.

There were people coming and going, someone brushed against my bag on the floor as they walked past. I looked up from the pics to move it and caught sight of a sexy arse in tight, ripped denim shorts glide by. Toned legs in black Vans strode away from me towards the door.

Despite everything, I couldn't help thinking that was a hot bum. I let my eyes roam up her body before she disappeared out the door.

She had a white t-shirt on, with a wide ripped neck. A black fanny pack hung over her shoulder, her ponytail swayed as she walked falling out from under her ball cap. Cool girl.

As she turned her head, I saw the tattoo at the base of her neck.

A little bird, wings spread in flight, drawn in simple outlines.

There was a bright purple streak in her ponytail.

My heart stopped.

I was frozen.

She wasn't, and in the next step she disappeared around the corner.

"Madame, your taxi to the airport is here."

I had...

"Madame?"

I...

"Madame, are you alright?"

I had a flight to catch.

I had a life and a daughter to get back to.

I stood up, took my bag and walked calmly out of the lobby. My taxi stood there, a footman holding the door open, ready to take my bag.

I looked at him. I looked at my future on the other side of that taxi door.

I turned right and frantically looked around for a beautiful woman in blue denim shorts and a white t-shirt, with a blue ball cap and the most kissable lips in France.

Please. Please... oh please...

There!

Right in front of me, a few hundred meters down the street, a blue hat and a purple streaked ponytail!

So far away. How long did I just sit there?

I walked after her, picking up speed.

My mind raced.

What was I doing? How was this a good idea?

What the hell was I going to say to her?

The tears came back, forcing their way into my eyes.

I was gaining on her a little, but carrying my weekend bag wasn't helping.

I took out my phone, and without stopping I found her number.

I felt monumentally stupid, but I also knew now that I couldn't turn back now without talking to her. It would probably be a disaster and feel completely awful. But maybe then I could move on.

If I didn't...

I sent it.

I was close enough now to see her fumble with her fanny pack in the distance and get something out. Her phone?

Then she suddenly stopped.

Oh fuck. That was an awful message. I should have...

What the hell will she think?

I was getting close now, and my heart was pounding.

My phone dinged.

I stopped. Oh my God. I nearly didn't dare look.

For a second, it felt like all the weight was lifted from my mind. It soared over the buildings, up towards the beautiful blue sky, like a bird set free.

But, she still just stood there. I didn't know what to do. She remembered. But... it didn't have to mean anything. My brief elation crashed back to the ground.

Shit.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard in hesitation.

And there they were, those sapphire eyes, staring at me through the lunchtime crowd on the street.

+++++ Julie +++++

I just stared.

It was her.

It was really her.

Mon Madame.

Her hair was taken up at the back, but stray locks of her beautiful golden hair framed her face. She had large sunglasses on, but it was definitely her.

She had the same effortlessly stylish, sexy look about her, a light pink Ralph Lauren polo French-tucked into form fitting olive-green cargo pants that hugged her amazing hips.

She was every bit as lovely as I remembered. A gorgeous blonde goddess, just standing there with a travel duffel in one hand and her phone in the other, looking like she didn't know how she affected us mortals with her graceful allure.

The rush of joy and surprise made my head light, my heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel myself flush red. Still, I just stood there like an idiot, like she was an illusion and moving would break the spell.

The buttons of the polo were undone, and my eyes were drawn to her beautiful full breasts, over her curvy hips, all the way down to where her bare ankles disappeared into her white designer sneakers.

I knew everything that lay beneath her clothes, every intimate curve, every sweet inch of her body, but that just made undressing her with my eyes more fun.

She stood still as well. People passed us on the pavement as we stared at each other.

A million thoughts battled for control in my mind in those few seconds.

She was here. She came back, like she said she would.

She had found my card. She had my number. And she had found me. But that also meant she had decided not to contact me. Not before. She could have texted. She could have called. She didn't. Not until she was here.

Was I just a booty call for her then? Could there be anything more? Did I really expect something more?

What the fuck did I want?

Why hadn't she called before, why not let me know she was coming? Maybe she hadn't been looking for me. Maybe she just spotted me on the street... oh, maybe she hadn't really wanted to meet me.

Maybe she wasn't alone. Maybe she was with her boyfriend. Girlfriend? I didn't see anyone. My eyes flitted to the café entrance just behind where she stood. Maybe they were inside? Her daughter perhaps?

Oh, her daughter. Fuck, she could be here with her daughter. She had a kid. A teenager.

But I didn't see anyone. She looked alone.

She wasn't smiling. Wasn't she happy to see me?

My brain was in overdrive. I was overthinking and I couldn't stop.

Then she moved, took a few steps and her beautiful smile finally appeared as she covered the 20 yards or so between us. I started towards her, putting my phone away. My body was aching to feel her in my arms.

But she slowed down and stopped before I reached her, and she took off her sunglasses. She wasn't going for a hug. It would be weird if I did then. I tried not to let my disappointment show.

She was still smiling, but her green eyes were a bit reddish. Had she been crying?

She had a smattering of light summer freckles on her nose that made her even more irresistibly cute. And her lips... oh, those delicious lips. A perfect cupid's bow, ready to pierce my heart with a kiss.

"Hey... Julie."

There was uncertainty in her voice. No French swirl there, just plain old English Julie. But I liked that too, I just liked hearing her say my name.

There was a bit of awkwardness there.

We had fucked, repeatedly. But we hadn't really talked. And it had been ages.

"Hey... uh..." I suddenly didn't want to say madame. Not here. It was our thing, but it was... intimate. It suddenly felt somehow inappropriate in the street. Exposed.

"... Uhm..."

"Rebecca."

"Rebecca..." I felt all warm and silly inside. I knew her name.

"Yeah." She dropped her bag and held out her hand. Her smile finally reached her eyes for real.

"Rebecca Wallace. Nice to meet you."

I smiled at her too formal introduction and took her hand and shook it. Her long fingers were soft and warm.

"Julie Amélie Clarke. Nice to meet you too, Rebecca Wallace."

Her smile widened, and then the awkward wall crumbled, and we both started giggling at the ridiculousness of knowing each other's most intimate kinks, but not the names.

It wasn't long, but it felt wonderful. If she could laugh with me then hopefully, she didn't regret the things she had done with me.

To me.

"Julie Amélie. Very French for a Bermondsey girl." Her eyes held mine, still with a glint of playfulness.

I loved hearing her say my name again with her perfect, seductive French accent. I felt my skin goosebump, my nipples harden.

She remembered.

Those lovely green eyes stared into my soul.

Yes. We both remembered everything.

"Amélie was my mémé's name." I cocked an eyebrow with a sly smile. "Too French for you, Hackney?"

"No, I think it's beautiful."

She blushed, looking adorable. Once again I was struck by how much more beautiful she could look with just a bashful blush.

"I... I'm happy to see you, Julie. I wasn't... uhm..."

She shook her head, like to clear it, and then looked at her watch. She was still smiling, but she wasn't behaving like the confident goddess I remembered. She looked anxious.

"I'm happy to see you as well... Rebecca." Now it was my turn to look a little embarrassed. It felt both wonderful and strange saying her name.

"I, uh, I was... hoping that you might call."

God why was this so hard and awkward. So different from last time. I had imagined that if she came back, it would be just as amazing, that I'd fall into her arms, and we'd kiss and...

And what?

And have brilliant, amazing, mind blowing, kinky sex?

Yes. Yes please.

But I was afraid that wasn't the only thing I wanted.

She looked at me again. Oh, she really was perfectly lovely. I wanted to kiss her so badly my lips burned.

"You were?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, that's why I left my number..."

"Uhm, yeah, about that... I only found the card..." she began, looking super awkward, "... recently."

"Oh."

So it wasn't that she hadn't wanted to talk to me. There was that rush of joy again.

"That's ok, you're here now, right?"

She relaxed her shoulders a bit.

"Yeah, I am." Whispering, like she was talking just to herself.

She was being weird. I reached out and took her hand and stepped a little closer, looking up into those beautiful eyes.

"Rebecca, are you alright?"

I could see her thinking about it. Then she shook her head again and clasped her other hand over mine. So soft.

"Yes, Julie, thank you. I'm here and I'm fine. Can we talk, maybe over coffee?"

"Of course, I'd love tha... Oh fuck!"

Soleil!

Rebecca looked startled.

"Ah, sorry, shit. I was on my way to... wait, I'll just..."

Just what? I was supposed to be meeting Soleil in half an hour. Send her a text and say I couldn't come because I was in... that I was meeting another woman? Fuck.

"Look, if you can't, I understand, I..."

"No, no, I just, uhm, I'm supposed to be meeting someone in a bit, but let me see if I... I just need to...." I fished out my phone.

"Oh, you don't need to change your plans for me, I'll just..."

"No, it's no problem, just give me a second, ok?"

I dialled Soleil's number and turned half away, but making sure I could still see Rebecca, like to make sure she wouldn't disappear on me.

"Salut cherie, uhm, look I'm sorry but something's come up, is it okay if we take a rain check on today?"

I could see Rebecca watching me out of the corner of my eye, no doubt understanding every word. Damn.

"No, no babe, it's just that I just found out that a friend from London is in town today and wants to catch up... Okay babe, merci, parle demain."

I turned around and put the phone away.

"There, I'm all yours."

I was, truly.

She looked suspicious.

"Hot date?"

"Since you ask, yeah. Nothing serious though..." I added quickly, "... very early days, you know?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, I don't want to ruin anything for you, I know you probably have other... I mean... I just... need to talk."

Need.

She had something on her mind, that was for sure.

I decided not to overthink it. She was here, with me.

Treasure whatever time I was given.

Even if it might hurt later.

I gave her my best smile, picked up her bag and offered her my other hand.

"Come, I know a nice place close to Place Carnot. Good place to talk."

"Please, I'll take the bag, you don't have to..."

"Oh no," I held the bag out of her reach, and looked her in the eye, "tout cela fait partie du service... madame."

She stared at me for a second or two and then took my hand.

We didn't say much on the short way to the café. Maybe she was thinking of how good my hand felt in hers, how right it felt to walk down the street together hand in hand.

I know I was.

As I steered us towards Pépée Pia on Rue de Condé, I caught a glimpse of us in a shop window. We made an odd couple. Her, tall, elegant and graceful in her designer clothes. Me, a total contrast, unpolished, short and scruffy.

But I knew we still had a connection. A real one.

I had seen it. That unbelievably sexy confirmation that she still wanted me.

That little shiver when I said it.

Despite whatever was going on with her, she was still my Madame.

+++++ Rebecca +++++

"Un cappuccino et un flat white s'il vous plait."

I watched her animated face as she talked to the waiter. We sat on the terrace of a nice little café, the July sun making it nearly unbearably warm. I envied the way those hot shorts fit her sexy hips. I wished I had my hands down them.

I pretended to look at the menu. Just looking at her was putting all kinds of lewd thoughts in my head. I couldn't stop them. Her lips screamed at me to kiss them. Her exposed neck and shoulder in that ripped t-shirt tempted me to suck it... bite it. Her nipples were poking at the t-shirt.

And her hands...

Another thought pulled my brain out of the gutter.

The feeling of her hand in mine on the way here. The soft embrace of her fingers wrapped around mine. Connecting us. Calming me.

I had told Lennon how coming out publicly scared me. And yet, there I was, holding my lover's hand in public.

She had just offered me her hand, and I took it. Simple as that.

That delicate hand had been fully inside me, yet somehow this felt more intimate.

She was looking at me browsing the menu.

"I love the purple."

"What? Oh, thanks." She smiled and ran her hand over her hair. "I like to change it around, mix it up a bit. Makes me look a bit less mousy."

"I think you look beautiful. And it's cool. You'd look great in Christmas red."

She blushed. I felt my ears warm.

She looked at the menu again.

"Would you like anything more? The cakes are good here, and there's a nice salad Nicoise if you like tuna. Or the pancakes, they're delicious."

"No, I... yeah, the pancakes sound good. I didn't have any breakfast this morning."

"Oh, that's perfect then. Do you want to split one? The portions are huge."

"Yeah, that sounds good. The banana and strawberry ones maybe?"

She smiled. "My favourite."

As she ordered I looked at my watch. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And another. And thought of why I was here, why I had thrown everything else away yesterday and bought a plane ticket to Lyon. To her.

"Penny for your thoughts."

I opened my eyes and looked into those pretty sapphires in front of me. Her eyes were so warm. It was what had caught my attention the first time I met her. Those warm blue eyes that shone with passion.

"I was just thinking that my flight is leaving in a bit, and how happy I am that I'm going to miss it."

"Your flight is today? Now? But then you need to..."

"No, no, I won't make it in time, no... uhm... I was waiting for my taxi when I saw you in the lobby, and... I couldn't leave without seeing you again. I couldn't... lose you... again."

There. Cat out of bag. No way back now. In my mind I heard Lennon going 'No looking back now Becks. Carry on and carry through'.

She was blushing, not saying anything. Better forge on then. Get the disaster over with.

"I, uh... I only found your card yesterday... or, uhm, my daughter found it."

"Oh..." Her face was hard to read.

"Yeah, and... so that's why I didn't call... sooner. Sorry."

Still silence. I didn't really know where to go from here. What did I want to tell her? What did I expect?

"So anyway... I..."

She suddenly shook her head.

"Wait, wait... you only found it yesterday...?"

"Uhm, yes, or Sophie did, she was using the bag I had when I... when we..."

"But you're here now?"

"Uhm... yeah..."

"And your flight is leaving... now?"

Oh God, I realized how strange and awful this must sound to her. And I had just told her that I had been on my way to the airport without talking to her. Shit.

"Uhm... I have my original flight booked late tomorrow night, I just..."

"What, changed your mind?" She looked hurt now. "You didn't want to meet me."

It wasn't a question.

Yeah. Disaster.

My eyes filled with tears.

"No, it's not like that... I..."

I couldn't bear to see the pain in her eyes. I had to try to make her somehow understand that this was about my own idiocy and not a reflection on her in any way. I had to try to erase that hurt from her face.

So, I just blurted it all out.

How Sophie had found her card, how I threw everything out the window and bought a ticket to come see her again. How I didn't know how I felt, how to act, how ashamed I had felt of rushing here like this out of the blue and then how ashamed I was at having broken down and decided to leave without talking to her.

How I just hadn't thought I could face it if she didn't want to talk to me or thought I was a crazy stalker coming here like that, how scared I was that Sophie might hate me and how all these feelings had been jumbled up inside me, because she was the only one I had felt a real connection with for over a decade and that I was deadly scared that she hadn't felt the same way and that I would never find that again.

It just all flooded out. Horribly, with tears and sniffles and her passing me napkins and the waiter giving me looks.

She listened. Just listened and let me pour all my stupid shit in her lap. The longer I talked, and the longer she just listened silently, I became more aware of the fact that I didn't know her, and yet I was telling her things that, until now, I had only told my best and oldest friend. And some of it I hadn't even told Lennon.

She sat there. Absorbing all of it. Thinking.

"I'm sorry about all this Julie, I know how stupid it all sounds, I feel like an idiot. I understand if you don't want anything to do with me... but I just... I had to..."

She looked down, and just quietly held up her hand.

I stopped. There it was. How this ended. I felt a horrible sorrow grab my heart, ready to crush it.

"Rebecca... I... I don't know... what to say..." She stopped and took a deep breath.

She just breathed for a bit, like she was collecting her thoughts, deciding what to say.

I braced for her rejection.

But then her voice was soft, nearly just a whisper.

"No one... has touched me... seen me... like you did. No one."

My breath hitched.

"And it wasn't just about the sex... I've been with women who've done... what I like... before."

She looked up, into my eyes.

So blue. Shining with tears.

"But you... you were different. You... saw me. You felt me. Not just a random one-night stand. You saw... me..." she touched her fingers to her heart "... here."

She took a deep breath.

"You felt... us."

That feeling in my own heart, the one that I had tried to bury until yesterday, blossomed up like a flame. Because I knew exactly what she was talking about. She was talking about how I felt. By telling me how she felt.

"I've never... I've never felt that before. With anyone."

Her voice was heavy with emotion.

"But... look... I understand that you were... confused... wanted to run away, I get it. I get that it's all complicated for you, with your daughter and everything. I really do. And for someone who's not even out, you... I understand, it must be difficult." She paused for a second.

I started to say something, but she held up her hand again, just asking me to listen. Giving herself time to choose her words.

"Rebecca, I... I need you to understand that I don't expect anything from you. You have your whole life back in London, your family to think of. I don't expect anything. I understand... that you can't just... that it's complicated."

She spoke quietly now, her voice soft.

"... But for me it's... not complicated. It's simple."

Her glistening eyes burned with emotion.

"I'm yours."

She stopped talking and swallowed, looking away. A tear escaping down her cheek.

I couldn't breathe. There was a lump in my throat the size of my heart.

"And even if we just say goodbye and go our separate ways today... even if we'll only ever have Christmas... then I'll still carry you... what you gave me... with me forever. Because... it changed me."

My chest was tight, and my eyes burned with tears.

She cleared her throat and straightened up, shaking her head like to clear it

"Rebecca... thank you for telling me all of this. I can't believe that you just dropped everything to come find me. I can't believe you did that... for me. But look... we're both here now. We both feel this... whatever this is between us."

She looked at me with the small, rueful smile of someone who has shared more than they intended.

"Can we just... have this time together? And see what happens? Without thinking too much of... feelings and futures and families and everything? Can we just... chérir le temps qui nous est donné... madame?"

Her eyes were glistening, hopeful, and her hand was on the table, open, reaching out.

It was the second time she did that. Held out her hand to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Unfazed by all my flustering.

My knight in purple armour.

She was so beautiful. Her hat was off and the purple in her hair shimmered in the bright sun, the upturned tip of her nose making her look impish. She was so cute, so incredibly sexy. And behind those eyes there was a beautiful soul that I still felt connected to, after all these months.

A soul that still felt connected to mine.

And that madame. God, it did something to me. She... she did something to me. Touched me.

I'm yours.

I took her hand. Laced my fingers with hers and repeated her words.

"Cherish the time that we are given."

She squeezed my hand tight, flushing red. A nervous happy little giggle escaped, and it was so damn cute I couldn't help a smile and a near giggle of my own. It reduced the emotional charge a little.

We looked at each other. God, she was beautiful.

"How long have we got?"

"My original flight back is tomorrow night. Sophie will be back at around two on Sunday, so I'll have to be home tomorrow night."

"I'll take it."

She looked so sincere, so genuinely happy for those 24 hours or so, it nearly made me cry. I shook it off. I was done crying. At least until I got on the plane. I was not going to spend what little time we had together bawling my eyes out.

"So... what do we do next?"

"Well, how about we finish those pancakes, if they're not too cold now, and then..."

Her lips curled up in a hot, mischievous smile.

"Are you staying at the Hotel-Dieu?"

"I was, but I just cancelled my booking for tonight when I checked out this morning." I felt like an idiot saying that.

"I can probably book again though..." I went to check my phone. She was still smiling.

"Would you... like to stay at my place? The room service is pretty good madame."

A rush of excitement washed over me as my eyes met hers.

Was she saying what I thought...?

Oh yes, she was. All the possibilities of that offer were plainly written in the hopeful look on her face.

"I would love to, Julie."

---

The three stops ride on the Metro was charged. She talked. Told me about the city, her neighbourhood. She was filling the air, mostly. Trying to divert from what we were both thinking about.

While I listened and put in a question here and there, my mind was focused on the way her shoulder bumped against mine, how I could feel the warmth of her bare knee through my trousers, the touch of the soft skin on her arm to mine.

I kept sneaking glances at her bare thighs and legs, tan from the summer sun, smooth, toned. Those ripped shorts were driving me crazy.

As we walked from the café to the station, my feelings had slowly unjumbled and with every step the anxiety was replaced by a growing need.

By the time we got off the train at Garibaldi station I had thrown caution to the wind. I would figure life out later. Right now, I was burning with lust. Her hand felt fiery hot in mine. I could feel it in her as well, like she was vibrating inside.

She lived in a nice flat block a few minutes walk from the station. She let go of my hand to get out her keys and let us in the building. It felt like an electric current leaving my fingers. I walked behind her up two flights of stairs, my eyes glued to those racy ripped shorts stretching over her pert bum on each step.

She stopped in front of her flat door, putting the key in the lock. I stepped very close to her, my body inches from hers.

She stopped, key in the lock. There wasn't a sound in the stairwell except her heavy breathing, and mine.

A perfect moment of mad anticipation.

The little bird on the back of her neck dared me to kiss it. Lick it.

There was no longer any question of what would happen after we walked through that door.

The key finally turned in the lock and she stepped inside. I followed.

She walked towards the small open kitchen and threw her fanny pack on the table.

I let the door close behind me and put my bag down on the floor.

My heart was pounding with desire. A heavy, thumping hunger that burned red-hot for her. I needed to feel her, touch her. Taste her.

She turned around and stood there, just out of reach. My hands were trembling. Her eyes glowed, her pupils wide, betraying her lust.

I stared at her nipples, obviously hard now, poking two little tents in her t-shirt. There was obviously a bar in the left one.

"Julie..."

"Oui madame?"

A shiver ran down my spine. She touched something primal deep inside me with that word. With her subtle... subservience.

"I want you."

It was delicious to see her involuntary tremble at my words. Oh, yes. Oh God, why had I waited so long for this?

My nipples ached and my pussy felt slick with excitement. I finally threw all restraint to the wind and let all my hunger show, in my eyes, in my face... I wanted her to see how much I craved her.

"Do you want me?"

"Oh, fuck yes." No seductive French words this time. Just raw wantonness. The flush spreading in her cheeks.

I crossed the floor and cupped her flushed cheek. I removed her hat and lifted her chin, so her mouth was poised for my kiss.

She sucked in a breath.

And then my lips touched heaven.

All my buried feelings flowed to the surface with that touch of her sweet, soft lips, pouring into that slow kiss. She tasted faintly of pancake syrup and strawberries.

She stood still, focused on the sensual melding of our lips, until I felt her hands slowly touch my sides, warm fingers sliding under my polo, making hesitant, electric contact with my skin. Her tongue darted into my mouth, opening the kiss, exploring.

I moaned into her mouth as her hands moved up my back, finding and opening my bra. I tugged at her t-shirt, tucked into her shorts at the front, loosening it, drawing it up, slipping my hand under it and feeling her beautiful breast, warm and silky soft, her nipple puckered against my palm.

She let out a cute little whimper, her kiss turned more urgent, and she pulled up my polo.

I nibbled at her lower lip.

She sucked in a breath and pushed on my arms to get the polo off. I wished I'd put on those sexy undies I had in my bag. My bralette held on. She looked me in the eye and pulled it off. It fell to the floor with the polo.

I pulled the t-shirt over her head, tossing it in the growing heap of our clothes. Her beautiful teardrop shaped breasts screamed at me to suck them. Her pretty pink nipples were crinkled, just as sexy as I remembered. No, even sexier.

"I love the piercing." I said, my voice shaky from arousal.

"Suck it." Her eyes dared me.

I bent down and took that delicious pierced, scrunched up nipple between my lips. I thought the stud would be cold to the touch, but it was warm, like her breast. I sucked it deep in my mouth, flicked the stud with my tongue. It felt so sexy feeling it in her hard nipple. I took it between my teeth and pulled a little.

She moaned and pinched both my nipples. I lost concentration and arched my back.

"Oh God yessss..."

She took my breasts in her hands, feeling all of them, running her hands under them, lifting them, and then her warm wet mouth was around my nipple, sucking softly as she rolled the other one in her fingers. The sensations shot down to my clit making my knees weak.

Her mouth moved to my other nipple, sucking passionately, nibbling it.

I laced my fingers into her ponytail and tightened my grip.

"Suck me, oh yesss, suck my tits, Julie." I swirled her name on my tongue.

She doubled her efforts, holding my breast up to try to get as much as she could into her mouth, moaning into me. It felt sublime.

When she looked up her eyes were pure bedroom. She looped her hands around my neck and pulled me to her, kissing me and then licking my neck, up to my ear.

"Fuck me madame."

Her whisper was just a breath in my ear but it burned like fire.

+++++ Julie +++++

I was aflame, blazing with lust. I was so worked up my fingers tingled. My clit howled for attention and the wetness between my legs brought up memories of obscene kisses, slick with our pussy juices. Fuck, I wanted that again.

When Rebecca had stepped up close behind me on the landing before, I was so on edge with anticipation I would have let her take me right there on the stairs.

I was half expecting her to grab me the second we got inside the door, half hoping for it. But she had just stood there looking at me like sex incarnate. I'd wanted to toss myself into that glowing hot furnace but was rooted to the spot by those smouldering green eyes.

But now she was mine. I could feel it when I whispered in her ear, in the way her hand gripped my hair tighter and her nails buried into my back and her body trembled against mine. She wanted this just as much as I wanted it. She craved this as much as I did.

"Je suis à toi, madame. Baise-moi."

And suddenly she turned me around, still gripping my hair, and bent me over the kitchen table. My breath hitched at the cold table pushing against my tits and then three rapid smacks stung my ass cheeks through my shorts.

"Oh, fuck yes madame! Spank me!"

I heard her suck breath her breath in. I had properly lit her fires now. My body and heart sang in unison at her passion. Her hand came under me suddenly, fumbling at the buttons of my shorts and then pulling them down in the back, exposing my ass. She pulled them down to my thighs and then quick swats rained on my cheeks; my head pulled back, and my back arched against her hold on my hair.

It was exquisite. It wasn't a hard spanking, but relentless. Every smack stung, but none of them hurt for real, building up a quick rhythm that made my body hum and buzz with sensation. I tried to rub my nipples on the table. Not enough. My clit was screaming to be touched.

In between spankings she ran my hand lovingly over my ass, feeling the built-up heat, raking the sensitive skin with her nails. Roaming my body with her hands. Pinching and pulling my nipples. Then she started talking, her low voice dripping with lust.

"I love your arse Julie, *smack* it's so pretty, *smack* I love when it goes red like that. *smack* Such a sexy bum *smack-smack-SMACK*

I could only whimper at each stinging swat and listen to her huskily describe her desire. My only focus was the building heat in my backside, the thumping pulse of blood in my clit and the seduction of her voice.

"I going to fuck you Julie, *smack* I'm going to make you cum *smack* hard."

She bent over my back, her soft, heavy tits crushing against my back, and whispered in my ear.

"I'm going to make you scream my name, Julie."

"Oooohhh yes, please take me, oh God madame, please fuck me, touch me, please... touch me!"

Then my whole body tensed up again as her fingers suddenly slid between my warm arse cheeks, spreading my lips, rubbing my clit, sliding into me, massaging my pussy with her whole hand, lathered with my wetness.

My legs quivered. My whole being was reduced to the combined, intense feelings of her hot body on top of me and her fingers incessantly rubbing my clit.

And then she thrust her fingers inside me, pulling my hair even tighter. Her fucking was urgent, relentless, pushing, thrusting, pounding, hitting my buttons perfectly. I howled, I just lost it, a mindless stream of moans and whimpers expressing the immense pleasure I felt being taken like this by my goddess. Her breath hot and loud in my ear, her body heavy on top of me, riding me towards orgasm. I could feel it. I couldn't believe it. So quick. So intense. It was right there, just there, oh fuck yes, I was going to cum on her pounding fingers. Oh Gooooodddd.....

But then I was suddenly empty again, my pussy screaming for more as her fingers left me and came up to my face, smearing my juices over my lips, into my mouth, over my tongue.

"Oooh yes, you like that Julie, don't you? Oh, god, you drive me crazy!"

The unrestrained passion in her voice was intoxicating. I just moaned, her wet fingers filling my mouth.

She pulled me up and turned me around, her tongue replacing her fingers deep in my mouth. A kiss. Months of longing and pent-up lust in a fiery deep kiss. A kiss that demanded submission and gave passion, that stole air and gave back scorching heat. It was messy and desperate and joyous, and absolutely right in every way.

Perfect.

When our lips finally parted, I was breathless with love.

I was hers. Only hers. How had I ever believed I could find this anywhere else?

+++++ Rebecca +++++

Her blue eyes burned in mine as her hot lips left mine, her raw emotions laid bare. Loving. Mine.

I shivered with that thought.

God, that kiss.

Her lips.

Her passion.

A perfect match for mine.

And her soul...

She was watching me, breathing heavily, her chest flushed red, her body radiating warmth, burning hot with lust.

I let go of her hair and pushed her on the sofa. Her eyes were wide with anticipation looking up at me. Her nude petite body splayed for me, her beautiful pussy wet and open after my fucking. I loved fucking her hard like that. Feeling her surrender to her pleasure and my control, becoming just a moaning ball of pleasure.

She looked up at me and slipped a finger inside herself, bringing it to her mouth to lick her juices off. I shivered, my breath shaky. She was so incredibly hot. And when she dipped two fingers inside again and offered them to me, I fell to my knees between hers and sucked her fingers into my mouth, licking her wetness off. Slipping my own fingers deep into her pussy just to bring them up to our mouths dripping with her juice and kissing her, smearing her all over our lips.

There was just something raw about sharing her juices in a kiss. Something primal. It fired up my passion, made my clit throb, hazing my brain over with uncontrollable lust.

She was the only person I had ever done that with. Ever thought of doing that with.

She was looking into my eyes now from an inch away. Everything slowed down. She whispered.

"Hurt me madame... s'il vous plait?"

Pleading. Eyes wide with lust.

"Fais-moi mal..."

I slid my hand slowly down to her pierced nipple. Her eyes closed in anticipation and she drew a quick breath, like preparing herself as my fingers closed around the bar. Then my other hand slid just as slowly up and her eyes shot wide open as my hand closed around her neck, holding her tight.

"Oh God... oui madame..."

I could see what she wanted, I could see it in her eyes. And it drove me wild. I pulled on the bar in her nipple, turned it hard, making her nipple stretch and hurt. Her breath blew out in quick bursts and her eyes glazed over.

Oh, she was mine now.

And then I squeezed the arteries in her neck lightly as I bit one nipple hard and pulled on her piercing in the other.

She growled.

The deep animal growl of a woman lost in the combination of pleasure and pain.

The vibrations reverberated in my soul.

I squeezed harder and set my teeth in her breast for real, leaving marks. Her growl became struggled moans. I let go of her nipple and ran my fingers into her pussy again, finding her buttons, fucking her hard, pounding her as I choked her, biting her breasts hard, looking into her eyes. She hissed through her teeth with every bite and pull of my teeth on her nipples. It was magnificent to see her pain blossom with pure pleasure.

I watched her eyes as she realized she would pass out if I didn't let go. Seeing that beautiful moment of panic dawn, I gave her a few seconds more, knowing how she craved that adrenaline induced high.

The moment she started struggling I let go, kept fucking her pussy and then did it all again. And again.

Her high kept building, climbing, she was writhing under me now, her whole-body squirming with pleasure. When I let go I quickly slid down to the floor between her hot legs.

"Oh God, oh fuck, oh yes madame. Oh yes, oh yessss..."

I pulled my wet fingers out of her, spreading her legs wide and up with my hands, diving into her and sucking her pussy lips into my mouth. He squirmed as I moved my lips and tongue all over her pussy, slipping down to rim her ass. That made her twitch and moan hard. I licked my fingers and worked them slowly into her again, a third finger sliding slowly into her ass. I was rewarded with a long huffing moan. She obviously liked that. mouth found her clit, hard now, standing proud against my tongue, on edge. I flicked it, circled it, sucked it, licked it, falling into a hard rhythm, feeling her orgasm build with a loud steady moan, growing louder, staccato as I fucked her pussy and ass at the same time..

"Oh God, oh God, God, yes, yeess, Yeeessssss, YESSS, OH FUUUUUCKKK MADAMEEE..."

She was screaming now, as I fucked her with everything I had, pushing her towards the edge. I wanted to feel her cum for me. I wanted to see her in that moment of ecstasy, hear her moans as I pushed her over that cliff.

"Cum Julie, cum for me. Yes! Cum! Give me your cum! Give it to me! Now!"

Her back arched and her hands grabbed my hair hard, trying to mash my face harder into her pussy.

"OOOOHHHHH FUUUUCKK... FUUUUUUUUUCKKKK... REBEEECCAAAAAAAAA..."

Her violent contractions pushed my fingers out of her as she came, her whole body scrunching up with muscle spasms. I held her shaking legs and tried to keep contact with her clit to prolong her orgasm as long as I could, but in the end she was pushing at my head, pushing my mouth away.

I sat on the floor with my head resting on her shaking thigh, licking her wetness off my fingers, watching her try to catch her breath as her whole body trembled coming down from a monstrous orgasm, twitching with aftershocks.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

My Julie.

+++++ Julie +++++

Oh God. What did she do to me?

It felt like I couldn't move.

My tits ached.

Fuck, there would be real bruising after this.

Her marks on me.

The adrenaline still rushed through me, the afterglow of that sweet breathless panic burning in my mind, making me soar even as I came down from the mental and physical high.

"Merci madame..."

I only managed a whisper between breaths.

She kissed me.

Her warm beautiful lips sucking mine, in a slow, sensual lovers kiss.

She moved beside me and draped her leg over my thigh, gathering me into her arms, her head resting on my shoulder.

We lay there for a while, our breathing slowly falling in sync, her fingers slowly tracing her bite marks on my tits.

I could feel my eyes burning, threatening tears.

I only had her for 24 hours.

When she moved and pulled me up from the sofa, my legs felt like spaghetti. We kissed. She held me tight. I steered us towards the bedroom, and we fell into my bed.

She took off her pants. I had been so focused on the pleasure she was giving me I hadn't even realized she was still half dressed.

Her nude body enveloped mine on the bed. Warm, soft, beautiful. I was in awe that this gorgeous woman was in my bed. That she had come all the way from England just to meet me. To find me again. How was that even possible?

But I could feel it. That gravitational pull between us. She knew me, saw me.

I knew she felt it too. It was in her touch.

We lay there peacefully for I don't know how long, just kissing, getting lost in each other's bodies.

"You are amazing. So beautiful."

She was looking into my eyes. She hadn't told me she loved me, but in that moment I felt loved. It was in every look of her eyes, every kiss, in the touch of her fingers on my skin. Electric. Intimate. Passionate.

"Thank you madame."

+++++ Rebecca +++++

I kissed her once more savouring the taste of her lips, shuddering with the pleasure of her calling me that. Then I got on my knees, bending over her beautiful body, spreading her legs and touching my tongue ever so lightly to her wet lips. Her pussy twitched and she moaned, pulling me fully on top of her.

She gripped my ass and plunged her tongue into my pussy, pulling me down on her face, her enthusiastic moans vibrating around my clit. I sucked her sensitive clit in between my lips, flicking it with my tongue, slowly enjoying eating her.

Slowly though, I let up and just enjoyed her eating me. Her mouth was driving me on towards orgasm, I could feel it building but I knew I would be so much better if I could feel her inside me.

Her frustrated whimpers as I rolled off her were cute, like I had taken her favourite toy away. I looked at her, those hot kissable lips and most of her face bathed in my juices.

We didn't need words. I spread myself open and she moved between my legs.

I hissed with pleasure as her fingers curled inside me, her tongue slowly circling my hard clit. She kept that up for a while, just making me feel, slowly building rhythm, moving her fingers inside me with purpose, looking into my eyes, letting me see how much she loved making love to me, licking me...

... serving me.

It was bliss. In my trysts with women from various clubs I had never found anything remotely close to this. The sex had always been good, but with them it was always just about warm bodies getting each other off.

When I looked into Julie's eyes over my bare, wet mons I saw something else entirely.

Burning passion. A deep yearning. A sense of belonging.

Looking at her, feeling her with me, in me, I felt wanted... for me.

Not just for sex, but for my heart. For my soul.

I couldn't explain it, but it was like she was a part of me that I hadn't known I was looking for.

A part that was missing, a part I could only find when I had her near me.

"What are you thinking?"

Her eyes held mine for a moment as her lips slowly teased my clit.

The words I had written in the texting box on my phone, a few hours before I got on a plane to Lyon yesterday, now blazed like fire in my mind.

And still, somehow I couldn't say them.

"How beautiful you are."

Her sexy smile came closer as she crawled up to kiss me. Such a slow, sensual kiss. Then her soaking fingers came to my mouth, pushing into my throat. As she made me clean my taste off her fingers she leaned down and whispered in my ear with just a breath.

"I'm yours madame. Always."

I shivered, my breath hitching.

Another slow breath in my ear.

"Let me feel it. Use me."

Her voice was shaking, betraying her arousal.

My hands grabbed her ass, nails burying into her cheeks.

Her breath hissed through her teeth.

+++++ Julie +++++

I felt her teeth sink into the spot where my shoulder met my neck at the same time her nails dug into my ass. I sucked in a deep breath as she held the bite, not hard, but just enough for me to know who was in charge.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling.

Then her hands came suddenly slamming down on my ass with a double stinging blow. She grabbed it and pushed me up, getting her head under me, grabbing my pierced nipple in her teeth and biting it for real.

I grunted with the beautiful pain she gave me, feeling the adrenaline start to flow again, ready to carry me to that high with her. Her hands grabbed my body, nails digging into me, raking over my skin, pushing me up as she moved down. She was intense now, I had properly lit something within her, she was just as worked up as I was.

I loved it. Wanted it. Craved it.

She gently set her teeth in my pussy, then sucking me as she pulled hard on my sensitive nipples, curling her fingers inside me.

The world faded away, my mind and body flying high on the rush of adrenaline and endorphins.

Time ceased to exist. There were no minutes, no before or after.

There was just her.

And the bliss of belonging.

---

The bed covers were all over the floor. Our clothes strewn about the flat.

Her body was warm at my back, her arms holding me, her breath caressing the back of my neck.

"I love your bird."

I smiled and tucked her hand closer to my chest.

"Thank you."

"Does it mean something special?"

"No, not really... freedom maybe. I just thought it was cool when I was 18."

"It's beautiful. Like you."

I opened my mouth... but hesitated.

She was silent, holding me tight.

"You... you really think I'm beautiful...?"

She tightened her hold on me.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Julie..." her voice was just a whisper in my ear. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be here with you."

I sighed and melted into her body, her warmth permeating through me.

+++++ Rebecca +++++

I was ripped from this slow moment of beauty when my phone rang a familiar tone.

Sophie.

I untangled my arms from Julie's body. She gave a cute, disappointed whimper.

"Sorry, it's my daughter. I have to take this."

"Oh, ok."

I found my pants on the floor and fished out the phone, feeling strangely embarrassed answering without any clothes on. Sophies smiling face was looking at me from her picture on the lock screen. Thank God she wasn't facetiming.

"Hi sweetie, how's Manchester?"

"Hi mum, it's awesome! We've been to aaall the shops on Market street!"

I laughed out loud.

"Oh dear, is your dad still among the living after all that?"

"He's fine, we got him an ice cream."

"Well don't wear him out completely sweetie, you need him to take you to the concert tomorrow."

She wasn't listening.

"We both got complete new outfits for tomorrow, I'll send you pics later."

The excitement in her voice was contagious. I could hear Christa pottering about with shopping bags in the background. Taylor Swift started playing on a speaker somewhere.

"What are you doing? Why did the phone sound weird? There was only one ring."

My heart beat faster.

"Oh, uhm... I popped over to Paris for a bit of shopping of my own with your aunt Len. Just a spur of the moment thing."

I closed my eyes. I hated lying to her.

"You're in France?"

"Yeah, but I'll be home tomorrow sweetie, looking forward to seeing you on Sunday, hear all about the concert. When do you have to be there tomorrow?"

She broke into a detailed description of the war plans for the concert, complete with a description of her new outfit. It was adorable, I was so happy for her to be going to see her idol. Ed had really outdone himself with those tickets.

"Will you bring me something from France?"

"Of course, sweetheart!"

In the background I could hear Christa ask why I was in France. Shit. I tried deflecting.

"Are you going out to dinner soon then?"

"Yes, dad's taking us to a Mexican restaurant. We're going to drink a lot of margaritas."

"Oh, you must, it's in the rules."

Her happy laugh made me smile.

"Send me those outfit pics later sweetie, let's talk tomorrow before you go to the concert."

"Okay, bye, I love you mum."

"I love you too sweetie. Take care and say hi to Christa and your dad from me."

The phone clicked off after our goodbyes and I sat there, naked on my lover's bed, missing my sweet girl. Embarrassed and disappointed in myself at having lied to her.

I would talk to her on Sunday. See how far I would get.

"It's obvious how much you love her. It's beautiful."

I smiled and looked back at my naked lover, basking in the sun that shone through the window.

"She's my whole world."

She rose to her knees and embraced me from the back, kissing my cheek.

I turned my head and caught her lips in mine. I loved kissing her.

It felt just right.

"I love kissing you." Her voice was low by my ear.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

She smiled and kissed me again. A purple lock of hair fell over my face.

Her impossibly blue eyes were smiling when she released me from her lips.

"We need food." I was suddenly hungry, thinking about Mexican food and margaritas.

"I know just the place. Afghan food to die for."

"Do we have to get dressed?"

"No, we can order in."

"Splendid. Never had Afghan before."

She was raining little kisses on my neck as we talked.

"Oh, you're in for a treat then."

"Can I maybe have another treat after dinner?"

"What do you have in mind?"

I shivered as she sucked lightly on the spot where my neck met my shoulder. I could feel her smile. She knew exactly what I wanted. I leaned my head away, relishing the touch of her warm lips on my neck.

"I... I want you to fill me up again. I want to feel your hand inside me."

"Certainement madame..."

Her lovely kisses rose to my ear, over my cheek and found my lips.

"... Je suis votre servante."

---

The food really was top notch. Wonderful rich taste. Julie threw on a robe when the delivery arrived but then we sat in her living room sofa to eat, drinking wine and giggling at each other like idiots about eating naked.

She was wonderful company, funny, confident, passionate and full of life. I found myself being drawn into her life as she told me stories about her friends and coworkers, and how her relationship with her mother was funnily enough improving the more time they spent apart. Her dad sounded like a bit of an old school curmudgeon, but I could see the affection she had for both of them in the way she talked about them.

She had two years left at the Hotel-Dieu to get the work experience she wanted. I loved how proud and passionate she was in her profession; she wanted to be the best and she had a plan to get there. But as she talked, I found myself thinking about those two years. Two years in Lyon. She wasn't coming back to London.

Not a great premise for starting a relationship.

Did I want a relationship? Wasn't that why I had dropped everything and got on a plane to France?

Was that realistic? I wasn't sure at all that was what she wanted. And I wasn't sure bringing it up was a good idea.

I watched and laughed as she pulled faces describing one of her coworkers at the bar, apparently an oaf for the record books.

Her life was here in Lyon. My life was in London.

I told her about it. About Sophie, my divorce, my company, my friends. She listened with honest interest lighting up her beautiful eyes. I loved that she asked about Sophie the most, what she was like, how we got along, what she was aiming for in life. It felt like she understood how much Sophie meant to me.

I found myself unrealistically wishing I could bring her back with me. Hold her hand as we walked to Fait Maison for Sunday brunch with Sophie.

She reached for my hand over the table.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I must have looked a bit sad.

"Yeah, I guess..."

I looked at her with a wistful smile.

"We're a bit doomed, aren't we?"

She looked as wistful as me now.

"Cherish the time... remember?"

Yes. It was a lot harder than it sounded though.

"Yeah. I know."

She looked at me and her smile went from wistful to wicked. Like she was trying to push away our thoughts of a future that was not to be and bring us back to a present that was ours to enjoy.

I couldn't help laughing as she raised her hand and wiggled all of her fingers at me.

"So... what do you say...? Ready for your dessert now?"

+++++ Julie +++++

Her back held the rigid arch, her hands pushing at my hand buried inside her. The loud, involuntary sounds she made as the tremendous orgasm claimed her body made my nipples hard and my clit ache.

I stared in awe at the image of pure pleasure painted before me in vivid colours of muscles spasming, limbs twitching, lungs heaving, the quick bursts of her breath and voice filling my flat as I gave her the last swirls of my fingers inside her, the finishing touches to her artwork of rapture.

Then suddenly she collapsed on the bed and curled up on herself, shaking. Her hand held my wrist still, clenching her thighs around it as the last shudders shook her body from head to toe.

As her muscles loosened, I slowly withdrew from her pussy, my hand and the bed drenched in her juices. I moved up against her back, spooning her, holding her. Trying to tell her with touch alone how much it meant to me to have her here with me, how much it meant to me to be able to give her such pleasure.

How much I loved her.

Her breath slowly became slow and steady again. I held her to me, basking in the warmth of her wondrous curves, my nose nuzzled in her golden tresses, matted with sweat now.

If anything, it made her even more beautiful.

I closed my eyes, took in her scent, sparking memories.

A brown suede ballet flat, dangling on a perfect foot.

Lips sliding sultry over a bite of chocolate.

Sparkling green eyes, enchanting me over the rim of a tulip champagne glass.

And now she was here, in my arms. My goddess. My madame.

My breath settled into her slowing rhythm, my body relaxing into hers.

My mind went quiet. Nothing mattered but her, now, in my arms.

Just feeling her heartbeat next to mine.

---

When I woke up, my eyes, the first thing I saw was the elegant lines of her perfectly lovely face. Her eyes were smiling, that cute crinkle of her nose making me fall for her all over again.

"Hello beautiful."

I blushed. How on Earth was this perfect woman calling me that?

"Hi gorgeous."

"You are so cute when you blush like that."

"Oh, shut up." I couldn't stop smiling. It was wonderful to feel so wanted.

"I won't. You are just irresistible when you blush."

Her lips moved closer.

"Yeah?" I whispered.

"Totally."

Her lips caught mine. Warm. Soft. Proving the truth of her words in a kiss.

I sucked in a breath as she let me go. Overwhelmed. Content. Loved.

I could feel it.

If there was a moment, this was it.

But she didn't say it, and I stayed silent.

But it was there, in that kiss.

We both felt it.

The rest of our time together was magical.

A night spent sleeping in each other's arms.

A morning of slow, intimate lovemaking. No kinks, no loudness, just a quiet exploration of bodies, a joy of languid pleasures.

A romantic picnic in the sun at Jardin des Curiosités, overlooking the city.

Walking. Talking.

It was... perfect.

When I watched the taxi pull away late that Saturday afternoon, her green eyes looking back at me through the window, my heart felt sad but full.

But I wanted more.

I had her number. She had mine.

So, I settled on hope.

+++++ Rebecca +++++

London, July.

The lights of London came rushing up at me as I looked out the plane window. Heathrow's tarmac welcomed me back home with a harsh thump, matching my feelings perfectly.

Home.

Thankfully the evening flight on a Saturday wasn't full, with no one in the seats beside me, so there wasn't an intimate audience to my crying as we took off from Lyon-Saint-Exupéry.

Alone.

I wondered what Julie was doing.

I spent the flight reliving the tight embrace and her warm and loving goodbye kiss as we said our goodbyes at the taxi that took me away from her.

She was probably asleep by now.

Or maybe she was lying in her bed thinking of me.

A girl could hope.

The front door closed with a clinking thump, and I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, the ever-lit light in the hallway casting my eerie shadow on the landing. My weekend bag dropped on the floor and nightly bathroom tasks performed, I peeled off my clothes and crawled into bed.

I plugged in my phone and set the alarm for ten in the morning. Sophie was coming home at around four, and I needed some time to catch up on work and mentally prepare for the talk I was going to have to have with her.

I wasn't looking forward to that, afraid that my emotional turbulence would shine through whatever I tried to tell her.

I stared at the text as I sent it.

We had left it open. Promised to keep in touch. Meet again if and when opportunity presented itself. She said she might come home for Christmas. I said I might come to Lyon for a weekend.

I wanted more.

I think she wanted more too.

But we left it like that.

Practical. Open ended.

No strings.

I took her mantra to heart. Whatever happened, I would cherish our time together for the rest of my life.

---

I sat at the table and tried not to wring my hands.

Sophie was upstairs putting away the loot from her Manchester shopping spree. She had already shown me most of it, modelled a few of the outfits, gushed at length about the amazing concert and reenacted some of her favourite moments. She was happy, excited and tired.

I loved how happy she was. There is just something about seeing your child smiling and feeling genuinely happy that nothing else compares with.

My emotions weren't that simple or easy.

The doorbell rang and I paid the delivery man.

"Sophie? Dinner is here!" I shouted upstairs, competing with Taylor belting out one of her hits on Sophie's portable speaker.

I laid the table in the kitchen like usual, not wanting to signal anything out of the ordinary by moving to the living room.

She came bouncing down the stairs, but I could see the excitement was starting to drain from her and tiredness starting to take over.

"Yum, Indian."

"I got extra garlic Naan for you."

"Thanks Mum, you're the best."

I silently prayed she would still think so at the end of our conversation.

We shovelled delicious smelling tikka and korma on our plates and relished the first bites of our favourite takeout food.

As we ate in silence, I could feel her watching me. She sat opposite me, with her fork in her mouth.

"You're being weird."

"What? I'm not."

"You are." She pointed the fork at me. "You've got your quiet-worried face on."

I hesitated.

Sophie raised an eyebrow at me, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Mum?"

That was Lennon's eyebrow. Damn that eyebrow.

"You said you wanted to talk. Before I left?"

She remembered. I had kind of hoped the excitement of the last few days had made her forget about the card she found in my bag. No luck there.

Oh well. This was it then.

"Uhm... yes. Sophie... sweetie... there's something I need to tell you."

She put the fork down, looking serious.

"Okay..."

"It's not bad. Nothing's wrong. I just... I want to be honest with you."

She looked more wary now. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No!" I laughed, nervously. "No. God no."

She smiled faintly, but her posture didn't relax. She was tense, not knowing what to expect. I just had to get this out and not make her worry anymore.

"Okay... uhm... sweetie... I'm... I'm bisexual."

She blinked.

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence where she looked at me like I'd told her I used to be a spy. Not scared. Not angry. But like she didn't quite know how to fit the information into the mum shaped picture she already had of me.

I opened my mouth to explain but she beat me to it.

"You're bi?"

I deflated a bit, my train of thought out the window. I just nodded.

"I am."

"Since when?"

I took a breath.

"Since always, I think. I just didn't... I didn't say it out loud for a long time. Not even to myself really."

Oh god this was hard.

"Not until... recently."

Sophie leaned back in the chair. Her arms folded across her chest. Defensive.

"Is that... like... why you were unhappy? With dad?"

"No," I said as gently as I could. Here it was, my biggest fear.

"Sweetie, it's very important that you know that this had nothing to do with your dad and I separating. I promise. We were just... wrong for each other for a long time. I think you know that. This isn't something that caused the divorce. It's just something that's true. It's just something that I am."

She was looking at me strangely, but nodding slowly, like to herself. The wheels in her head were turning now.

"Does Dad know?

"Yes, your dad has known for a long time. Aunt Lennon too. But only them. And now you."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because you are the most important person in my life, and I should have told you sooner. And because I trust you to know me."

I sighed, my throat choking up, threatening tears.

"And... I don't want to have to hide this... anymore. From anyone. But especially not from you."

Sophie pressed her lips together. Then she stood up and came around the table.

For a second, I thought she was leaving the room. But she stopped behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Pressed her cheek against mine in a tight hug.

"I love you mum," she said softly. "It's good that you told me. And don't worry, you're still you."

I reached up and held her arm. Closed my eyes, tears running, and said a quiet prayer of thanks to whatever powers might be listening.

"Thank you, sweetheart. That means the world to me. I love you too."

After a while she sat down again, quieter now. Still thinking.

"Are you okay sweetie? Is there anything you want to ask me? I want us to be able to talk about this, I'll always be honest with you, you know that."

In the back of my mind, the guilt about the lie I told her on the phone in Lyon gnawed at me. I would tell her. Just not yet.

"I think I'm just surprised," she said. "Not in a bad way. I just... I've never thought of you like that. With anyone, really."

"Is It... weird?"

"Uhm... a bit. But... I kind of expected that you might go on dates... sometime... maybe."

We both smiled at this awkward possibility. Then her eyes narrowed.

"Does that mean that, like... if you meet someone... It could be a woman? I could have, like, a step... mum?

She didn't seem disgusted or to find it weird, she seemed to just be trying this new information on for size.

"Uhm... well... maybe... it's not an un-possibility at least."

I watched her closely.

"Would you be okay with that?"

"Yeeeah I guess... it's just... a bit weird thinking about it now. Like, out of the blue."

She picked up her fork again and shovelled up a big bite of tikka chicken in her mouth talking around her chewing.

"You're not going to run away to Paris and get a moody French girlfriend and wear berets, right?"

I laughed; the tension of the past few minutes released. She was hitting dangerously close to home with that France quip though.

"No, I've got nothing of the sort planned."

She grinned.

"Good. Because If you do, you'll have to take me with you. And I'm not leaving Christa."

"Well, that's out of the question then, I'm not inflicting the two of you on unsuspecting Parisians!"

She got a bit serious again, but her question was laced with earnest curiosity now.

"Uhm... does this all have something to do with that lady from the card? From the bag? From Lyon?"

My ears felt flushed. She noticed.

"Not really, it's just like I told you; I made a friend there at the hotel."

"This... Julie?"

"Yes. She's a waiter there. She saw I was alone there on Christmas, and we got talking. She was very nice."

She knew I wasn't telling her everything. The eyebrow threatened.

"Is she cute?"

I could feel the blush deepen, creeping into my cheeks. I hesitated.

"I'll take that as a yes," she smirked cheekily and took a big bite of her naan.

I smiled into my plate despite my embarrassment and allowed myself to feel proud at having managed to raise this smart, emotionally intelligent girl.

When we finished tidying up after dinner, she hugged me tightly again before heading upstairs. A warm, wordless confirmation that nothing had changed between us.

I knew she was most likely going upstairs to analyse this new information in a long call with Christa.

But I felt like a weight had lifted from my soul.

Later, I sat on the sofa and thought about the conversation.

It had gone better than I'd dared to hope. She had even been able to see a funny side.

I sipped my wine.

But the girl I'd move to France for wasn't moody at all, and she lived in Lyon, not Paris.

I wondered what Sophie would think of her as a second mum.

---

Lennon arrived with a bottle of wine and no warning. Typical.

"This would be easier if you just gave me a key you know" she said as I closed the door behind her.

"Yes, but then I would have no privacy at all, because you can't respect boundaries."

"Don't be silly, I know all your secrets anyway."

"And what if I'm engaged in loud, arse thumping sex when you let yourself in?"

"Oh, I'll just wait patiently until you're done with your sexcapades my dear and wave a cheerful goodbye to your conquest when she leaves."

"Hell, you really would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. I'm nothing if not polite."

I laughed out loud at that image. She gave an evil smirk. Then she waved the wine in my face and made a beeline for the kitchen.

"Come, tell all! I've brought sustenance."

I followed in the tracks of the hurricane, like I'd been doing for most of my life.

"God forbid we have a conversation sober."

"Don't be ridiculous. I've tried that with you. It's boring."

I laughed again, and she grinned, already halfway to the cupboard for the white wine glasses. We settled on separate ends of the sofa, legs folded beneath us, like so many times before.

"How's Oliver?" I tried deflecting.

"Ollie is a pain in my arse as usual. He's lucky he's beautiful and I'm lazy and can't be bothered to learn how Hinge works."

She took a sip, watching me over the rim of her glass.

"Nice try Becks, but we both know we're not here to talk about my hot husband. How did it go?"

I hesitated, unsure where to start.

"Don't make that face," her voice grew more sincere. "I mean with Sophie."

I sighed.

"It went... well. Better than I expected, really."

"See? I told you she'd be alright. She's not upset?"

"No. Surprised. A bit quiet. But she hugged me. She was... caring."

"That's my Soph." Lennon's voice was quiet, proud. She loved Sophie like her own kids.

I looked down at my glass.

"I thought I'd break something, by saying it out loud, you know? Like if I put it out there, it would change the shape of what we have."

"That's nonsense, nothing will ever change what the two of you have. I get what you mean but it didn't change anything, did it?"

"No... she even joked about it, like it wasn't a big thing."

She nudged me gently.

"You should give yourself more credit. You raised her well."

"I raised her with Ed."

Lennon made a face.

"Yeah, but she takes after you, luckily."

I smiled into my wine.

"She does, doesn't she."

"Yeah, and the best bits of me of course" she added smugly.

"As long as it's not your deplorable fashion sense."

She huffed and poured herself another glass.

"Philistine. I'll have you know animal print is now haute couture again."

I snorted wine into my nose at her fake-posh face. She grabbed the opportunity to push on.

"So, talking about la connexion française, are you going to explain why you blew off our girls' night last weekend and why I got a cryptic text Friday about how I was on a shopping trip to Paris with you, when in fact I was at a boring meeting in bloody King's Cross?"

I sighed. It was an unbreakable rule that we always backed each other up, no questions asked. But to be fair, this had stretched it a bit. She had the eyebrow up, silently declaring she'd already guessed what I'd been up to.

"Okay... I flew to Lyon. To find... her."

She looked smug.

"Love, even Ollie could have worked that out. What I want to know is why? How? Did you fuck her again? Give us the juicy bits. Spill woman!"

I explained about Sophie finding the card. Len had the decency to make an 'ouch' face. Then came my stupid flight to Lyon, the crying, the finding her, the passion, the hours and hours in her bed, the 'Cherish the time...', the picnic at that amazing park on Saturday, how we left it open. The crying on the plane back. All of it. Well I may have held back on the details. Some of it was just for me. For us. To treasure.

She followed all of it with occasional questions and comments.

She didn't prod for the sex bits, and she listened attentively. I could feel her eyes assessing me, knowing I couldn't hide anything from her. She knew me too well.

When I was done, she filled our glasses.

"Well... that was certainly something. And... you're not going to follow up?"

"Len... I... I don't know. How? I'm not moving to France, and she has at least two years left on her job over there. And I don't even know if she plans on coming back at all. I mean, she's a native citizen, she could stay there all her life for all I know."

"Yeah, I guess."

She was looking at her wine.

"What?"

"Well... I'm just thinking... Becks, you flew to France at the drop of a hat for this girl. That's not very you, is it? I mean, planning ahead is usually your thing. Even moving on to picking up women for one-night stands, you never just went out and did it, you had to mull it over, plan it, then execute the plan."

"True," I said quietly.

"That's you, insufferably organized. You can be a human Excel sheet sometimes, as weird as that sounds for someone as creative as you. I love you for it, but..."

"But what?"

"... I've not seen you so flustered for years. It's weird. It's like you're me now."

I snorted a laugh despite the serious undertone.

"Oi, that's harsh."

"All from a place of love, dear."

"I know Len."

"So... do you love her?"

I let the silence stretch.

"In a way..."

"What do you mean 'in a way'? That's not a valid answer to this question you know."

"Stop it, okay? I have these feelings for her, deep feelings, but can you call it love when you've only met twice and spent most of your time together in bed? We have a connection, I know that. A deep one. A real one. And I know she feels it too. But... love?"

She just let me talk.

"Anyway, it's complicated. And it's not like she was waiting for me... she was on her way to a date with some other woman when I met her. By the time she's ready to move back here she could be bloody married to someone else."

My frustration was shining through. I took a deep breath, tried to keep calm.

"We said we'd keep in touch, but we left it all open ended. We're messaging. Not much, just some bits of our day and stuff. I haven't heard anything from her since Tuesday."

"It's only Thursday now."

I looked at her.

"You know what I mean about long distance things. You say you'll keep in touch and then it peters out to a dribble here and there until it just gets awkward."

It was her turn to sigh.

"Okay yeah, I know. I still think you could do something about it if you wanted to."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, tell her you want more? Fly to Lyon on the weekends where Sophie is with Ed? Fly her over here and spend the weekend naked upstairs? There are possibilities, you know."

"For two years? Come on Len, you know it's not that easy."

"Your planning nature is working against you now."

"I just... I have a business to run, Sophie to think about. It all just feels too complicated. And besides, she never said anything about wanting more. She just..."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Just what?"

I sighed.

"It felt like she just... assumed there was never going to be anything more between us. Like she expected that I would go back to London, disappear from her life, and that would be that. 'We'll always have Lyon' type of thing."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Becks."

We sat there finishing the last of the wine.

"So... what are you going to do then?"

I didn't know.

Get on with my life I suppose.

---

London, late September.

J:

The message had been sitting on my phone for half an hour when I picked it up.

I opened the app to reply.

R:

There was nothing back for 10 minutes or so.

I put my hair up in a towel and did my skin and nails, checking the phone every 30 seconds or so.

We were still messaging, talking about our day, what was happening in our lives. For the last month though, the conversations got less and less frequent as life got in the way. It was to be expected, I guess.

We had vidcalled a few times since I got back home. It was both lovely and hard seeing her beautiful face. Those lips.

The most kissable lips in France.

God how I wanted to kiss her again.

I cried when the first two calls ended. Couldn't help it. It felt like closing the door on that part of my heart that I couldn't find without her near me.

I had debated flying to Lyon for a weekend, but the Shoreditch job was on the last stretch and the contacts from that had brought in two big contracts. On top of all that, Sophie was stressed over her GCSE tests and needed my support, so there never seemed to be a good time for it.

J:

J:

J:

J:

I stared at the screen.

Christmas...

R:

R:

R: ????>

I stared at the heart before I sent it. Too much? I decided no. Just right.

I got a big smiley face and two hearts back.

I felt warm and realised I was blushing. Over a text message. Those hearts. Just thinking about meeting her again. Holding her. Kissing her...

Yeah. Totally not in love, or anything.

I shook it off.

R:

J:

J:

R:

R:

I hesitated before I hit send. I wanted her to stay with me. So much. But it felt like going behind Sophie's back somehow if I didn't tell her.

J:

The three dots that signified her writing something were still blinking at me. I waited. Nothing happened. Then...

J:

Oh. Did that mean she...? People didn't usually go around meeting the family of their once-or-twice-a-year fuckbuddies, did they? Did she want more? Hope flared warm in my chest. Or was it fear? I hadn't told Sophie anything about her.

J:

Bloody hell, I'd been staring too long without answering.

R:

R:

And I realised when I wrote and sent it that I really meant that. I wished I could introduce them, let them get to know each other. I wanted that.

Sophie was my life. I wanted Julie to know me, all of me, and that meant her knowing Sophie. And...

... and I wanted Sophie to get to know Julie. I needed her to. Wow.

That was an eye opener for me, right there.

Christmas. I would talk to her about this before Christmas. When she came here.

We needed to talk. I needed to know what she wanted, and I didn't want to do that over text or in a call. I wanted her here. With me. Holding me. So I could look into her eyes when...

Bloody hell. I was in love.

There was no way around it anymore.

J:

R:

I hesitated.

R:

J:

J:

J:

R:

I sat on the bed in my bathrobe, my hair probably all dried like a tangled bird's nest in the towel by now.

I was all tingling.

She was coming to see me.

+++++ Julie +++++

London, late November.

I hadn't even told my parents I was coming. I was hoping I could stay with her.

I stood at the front door to a town house in Kensington in the grey November drizzle, in a winter coat and with just my backpack for luggage.

This was a very posh neighbourhood. Posh house. All very... posh.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Fuck, it probably was a bad idea. Malik had asked me to switch schedules, so I was here two weeks before I had planned. I jumped at the opportunity. It was two weeks I didn't have to wait to see Rebecca.

My golden-haired goddess. My love.

I was nervous and excited at the same time.

She had found me in Lyon without calling first, turnabout's fair play, right?

The truth was, I thought it was romantic, just showing up at her door. I had chocolates from the Hotel Dieu in my pack, the same ones she had used to seduce me that first time last Christmas.

Maybe I was just being stupid.

We had left things open, no regrets, no attachments.

Cherish the time and all that.

But I had cherished... and... it just wasn't enough. I had tried picking up with Soleil. She was lovely, fun. It lasted a month or so but... it didn't work... I just didn't feel it.

I was... hers. It was just... a fact.

So, maybe I could... talk to her...? I needed to.

Our chats and messaging recently had made me feel like she wanted more than just this. She was telling me more about her life, her job, about her daughter. She was being more... intimate.

But she had been extra busy for the last month or so, or at least that's what she said.

Less messages, no calls.

What if she had met someone? A girlfriend? Or, crap forbid, a boyfriend?

Would she have told me? I hadn't told her about Soleil. She could be dating someone.

It was a chance I'd have to take. I was looking forward to seeing her so much. I was hoping for a reprise of our time in my flat in Lyon but... just spending some time with her would be lovely.

In truth, I was hoping for a lot more. I had promised myself not to go back without talking to her about it. So, I would do that, but... maybe not until the last day? Fuck. I was scared of what she'd say.

If it all went tits up, I could always slink back to my old room with my tail between my legs. Maman would be happy to see me. At least then... I'd know.

I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. My heart thumped in my chest.

I crossed my fingers and hoped I wasn't making a m...

A dark-haired teenage girl with a light smattering of freckles opened the door with a questioning look.

... istake. Oh fuck.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

It was obvious who she was. She looked about fifteen. There was no mistaking the elegant lines of her pretty face, and the bright green eyes were a dead giveaway.

Sophie.

I should have just made up a story. But I was caught frozen in the headlights. She was supposed to be at her dad's place this week! Fuck!

"Uhm, hi... Sophie, right? I... was hoping to catch your mum. Is she at home?"

"Who is it, Soph?" Hope flared for an instant but was crushed by a head full of auburn curls appearing behind her. Another girl. Double fuck.

They were both looking at me with interest now.

"No, sorry, she had to go to work, some meeting or other. She'll be home after six if you want to catch her."

Well fuck again. Best untangle this quickly.

"No, no worries, I'll just catch her later or call her. Uh... just tell her Julie said hi. Julie Clarke. Cheers."

I turned and took the steps down to the pavement, fleeing the scene.

"Hey, wait!"

I looked up.

She was three steps down from the landing after me.

"Did you say Julie?"

"Yeah."

She was looking at me funny. The curly haired one was staring at me from the door, eyes wide like saucers.

"Julie... from Lyon?"

+++++ Rebecca +++++

The waiter left with our order of French toast for Sophie and my Croque Monsieur. Even Fait Maison had difficulties bringing a smile to my face this Sunday. The Shoreditch job was in the final stages and the stressing over getting every detail right was interfering with my sleep. Plus, Tom had taken the lead on early development for a second and third jobs for the same clients, so I was stuck finishing up Shoreditch without him mostly.

Having to get out there to supervise the contractors all day yesterday hadn't helped my mood.

I tried to push away the other thing that was eating at me. Christmas was coming up, and my thoughts strayed more and more to Lyon. To a huge Christmas tree in a fancy, domed hotel bar, and the hot waiter that was going to be coming over to meet me before the holidays.

We hadn't talked much during the last weeks. Busy days. I was looking forward to being able to have a proper talk when she was here. Only two weeks now. I was counting the days.

"Mum?"

I tried to shake it all off before I answered. I wanted to enjoy this quiet Sunday tradition with my girl. I would have to tell her about Julie... I wanted to... but I still didn't know how. How to start a conversation like that...? 'Hey Sophie, there's this girl in France I've been boinking...'

I just couldn't find the right words.

"Yes sweetie?"

She was fidgeting. Maybe something was wrong.

"Uhm, I can I ask you something? Like, and don't be cross, please? Because I'm like, genuinely interested."

Uh oh. What was this about?

"Of course I won't be cross, what is it?"

She was looking out the window, avoiding my eyes.

"Are you, like, dating... anyone?"

I could feel my ears flush. This was a conversation I didn't quite know how to navigate. I wasn't ready!

"Uhm, no not... really."

I regretted that instantly.

"What do you mean... 'not really'?"

She was looking at me now, her face lit up with curiosity.

"I mean, I've met some people... on dates and... uhm..." I didn't know where I was going with this, I just knew it was the wrong direction.

"You mean you've hooked up?"

"Sophie Annabel! I didn't mean... that's none of your..."

My flustered attempt at denial died at the sight of her teasing grin.

"You said you wanted us to be open and be able to talk about this mum."

She had me there. I had said that, hadn't I? But that didn't mean I was comfortable with it. I braced myself.

"Alright... what do you want to know?"

"Was it with women?"

I looked her in the eye. There was just honest interest there now. She seemed comfortable talking about this. About my... dates... people... my bisexuality. So, I let go of my fear.

"Yes."

To my surprise she smiled and pumped her fist in the air.

"Yay! Go mum!"

We both laughed at her theatrics. The tension eased from my shoulders. She wasn't embarrassed.

"So... is there someone special you like?"

A cute impish nose and blue sapphire eyes appeared in my mind. I could feel myself start to blush.

"Sophie..."

"Come on mum, please?" Her irresistible Bambi eyes blinked at me. I sighed.

"Alright... There is someone that... I have a connection with... that I... cherish."

She was all ears, hanging on my every word. She looked excited for some reason.

"But she..." I watched her very closely as I nervously opened up about my specific love interest being a woman. "She doesn't live in London and... it's... it's complicated."

I felt sad suddenly. I wished it didn't have to be complicated.

She was fidgeting again now, still looking at me with a mix of excitement and curiosity. Like she could sense my wistful mood.

"Do you love her?"

I got flustered again

"I... it's... it's not..."

But as I looked into her eyes again, I could see it was an earnest question. She wasn't embarrassed, wasn't teasing. She just wanted to know. And I suddenly realised that I was having a real conversation about love and relationships with my nearly adult daughter. How had my girl grown up so fast?

Her question weighed heavily on me. I had promised her to always be honest with her. And that meant that right now, I had to be honest with myself. I took a deep breath and said the words.

"Yes. I love her. With all my heart."

And as the truth of that last part dawned on me the moment I said it out loud, my heart felt like it would explode with feeling.

"With all my heart..." I whispered again to myself.

Sophie looked like she hadn't expected such intensity of feeling from her old mum, her eyes flitting from mine to the window.

I had managed to embarrass her after all.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry, this is just something I need to..."

"Oh... mum..."

"... talk to my... uh... friend..."

"Mum, don't be cross, ok...?"

"What? Why?"

"I invited someone for brunch."

She looked a strange combination of sheepish, smug and nervous.

"Sophie..."

"Look, Christa and I... uhm, it was Christa's idea but... it's so perfect... just... uhm..."

My eyes narrowed as I looked at her flustering and wondered what those two were up to this time. Setting me up with someone? That was way out of bounds, but it did sound like something Christa might think up.

"Sophie, what have you..."

The door opened behind her and a red lock of hair appeared.

Her sapphire eyes. Her beautiful lips. That cute nose.

The world stopped turning. It just stopped.

She stood there and stared at me, looking nervous. Like she didn't know what to expect.

Like she wasn't sure if she was welcome.

I looked at Sophie. She had a hopeful look on her face, but like she didn't really know what to expect either.

I looked back at Julie. My Julie. Here. Now.

And then I stood, and I walked the six steps to the door and I did what I had been dreaming of all these months, during the texting and the calls. I kissed her.

It felt so right.

The tears came as I felt her melt into me, her arms coming around my waist, hugging me close.

As our lips parted I looked into her warm eyes staring up at mine, and my own words rang in my mind.

With all my heart.

I opened my mouth and found that there really was only one thing I wanted to say.

"I love you, Julie. I love you."

I could see the tears form in her eyes, her lip quivering with a happy smile.

"I love you too, Rebecca. I'm yours. Always."

My lips caught hers in a salty kiss, as we both tried to keep some semblance of control over our feelings, standing there in the middle of a public café.

There were people watching us from nearby tables, smiling, thankfully not hooting and clapping in celebration like in a cheesy rom com.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and turned around.

Sophie was still sitting at our table, turned to watch us, with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth.

"Uh..."

I guided Julie towards our table.

"Uh, Julie... this is my daughter Sophie..."

Oh, god this was awkward.

"Sophie... sweetie... this... this is Julie."

"Hi Sophie." Julie seemed strangely unrattled by meeting my daughter.

"Yeah mum, I know, we met yesterday."

"What? No... how...?"

"I came to the house hoping to meet you... but you weren't there. Sorry."

"You came to the...?"

"Yes, and Christa and I asked her in for tea. And Julie spilled it." Her ear-to-ear smile looked like you couldn't pry it off with a crowbar.

The tension burst out of me in a hearty laugh. This was just too perfect. Julie chuckled with me and Sophie beamed with pride at her own ingenuity.

"You and Christa? God! You two are like the Spanish Inquisition."

Sophie lit up with glee.

"Nobody expects the Sp...."

"Don't!"

She just laughed at me, obviously happy and excited that her secret plan had worked so well, and that I wasn't cross at her for it. And how could I be?

I looked at Julie.

Here. In my arms. With my daughter.

Together.

And suddenly I knew what it meant when Dr. Seuss said that your heart could grow two sizes.

I let go of Julie and pulled Sophie to her feet and gave her a long tight hug.

"I love you, sweetie. Thank you. Thank you so much."

She held me tight.

"I just want you to be happy, mum. I know you weren't always happy before."

I kissed her forehead.

"We're still a family, you, me and your dad. We'll always be a family. You know that, right?"

"Yes mum, I know. It's okay."

Before she let go she whispered in my ear.

"I like her."

And I had just wiped away my tears.

With most of the emotions cleared away, we all sat down and Julie ordered some food.

We talked and started on finding our footing for this new reality, starting with just how much tea Julie had spilled yesterday.

Not so much that Sophie still had a lot of questions. She wanted to know everything.

We gave her the PG rated version of our Christmas miracle.

"That's so romantic!" she said as I told her about how I had noticed this very cute waiter in the Hotel bar and how we had gotten talking.

Julie blushed as I described how cool and professional she had looked in her crisp waiter's uniform, no doubt remembering how she had taken it off in my room later that night.

"I just thought your mum was the loveliest thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Still can't."

Those eyes gazed into mine, blue like the sea around the Greek Islands, filled with love.

I could see it now, that same look she had always had in her eyes when they caught mine that weekend in her flat.

It was love.

How had I not seen that before?

Or rather, I had always seen it, but I had chosen not to recognise it before now.

As we walked home, Sophie excitedly skipped ahead and called Christa to tell her of their secret plan's wild success.

And right then, walking after my sweet, happy girl, the woman I loved slipped her hand in mine and my world finally fell into place.

+++++ Julie +++++

London, June.

The evening air was soft and slow, the garden catching the golden glow of late sun. Wildflowers starting to blossom everywhere, grasses starting to claim the path. There was something gorgeous in the mess of it. Like the garden had decided it was a meadow, and no one had the heart to tell it otherwise.

I liked it. Sophie said it needed professional help.

"Seriously, call a gardener," she complained light-heartedly to her mum yesterday. "And maybe some chairs that don't make our arses go numb."

She wasn't wrong. But the back step was warm even if it was hard, the bricks still holding the heat from earlier. Rebecca's thigh was pressed lightly against mine. I didn't mind a numb arse cheek or two if I got to sit here with her.

We were enjoying a chilled Pinot Gris, in the correct glasses of course. It was one of my adorable girlfriend's lovable little quirks, she had to have the right glass for each wine. I wasn't complaining. And the horror on her face when I suggested mugs for champagne was just too funny to let go.

It was the third night of my stay this time around. My bag was half-unpacked in the bedroom, my clothes folded in with hers in the closet.

I liked that I was here for my holidays now. Two whole weeks now and then again at the end of July when Jaques came back from his vacation. It felt wonderful to finally be here for this long and not having to rush to the airport again in two nights.

We'd managed time together every couple of weeks for the past six months, one of us on a plane, trying to make three days feel like five. It was hard for her, running the company with just Tom and Jemima and trying to be everywhere at once. She never said so, but I saw it in the way she exhaled when she finally sat still.

Sometimes I went to London, sometimes she came to Lyon. Sometimes Sophie came with her, other times it was just us. We worked with what we had. It wasn't perfect, but it was ours. Beautifully ours and growing with every lovely weekend spent together, however quickly they passed.

When Sophie was here, things were a little different between us. Less impulsive. Less... uhm... loud. But it mattered. It was important, the three of us being together, learning the shape of it all.

Sophie had been nice about it, thoughtful, even. She was proud of her little scheme to get us together, but it was still a big shift for her to have her mother's girlfriend around. A new rhythm to figure out. You can't rush those things. We were just letting time do its thing.

She was a wonderful person, quick witted and smart, warm and loving. Their relationship was beautiful. More and more, I found myself wanting to feel like a real part of that. Hoping.

Rebecca lifted her glass slightly, tilting it toward mine.

I tapped mine to hers, a soft clink in the warm stillness. She was staring into the garden, lost in thought. I let my shoulder rest against hers and enjoyed the silent closeness.

The sun was dipping lower now, washing everything in the kind of light that made ordinary things look a little more beautiful than they really were.

This is what it feels like to belong, I thought.

Her knee brushed mine, our bare feet next to each other, flat against the warm stone.

"Julie... I've been thinking..."

"A dangerous pastime."

"I know."

I smirked and leaned my head to her shoulder.

"What's on your mind gorgeous?"

"You. Us. Being here... together for two weeks..."

I looked up at her. She was doing that overthinking thing she sometimes did. She had what Sophie called her 'quiet-worried' face on. It made her look extra adorable.

"Yeah?"

"I love that... I've been looking forward to you coming so much. I just... I don't want you to feel like... you're just visiting here."

I started to say she didn't have to worry, but I sensed that this was something serious, so I shut up.

"Listen, we haven't had that much time together, but you... you've changed my life Julie... you mean the world to me. I love you... more than I thought it was possible to love someone. Uhm, and... I... I don't want you to feel like you are a guest here."

Watching, listening to my breathtaking goddess saying these things about me, I didn't know what to say. I still just felt amazed that she wanted me.

She took my hand, her thumb brushing my knuckle.

"I... I know that we haven't really talked about the future much, but... I keep thinking that if I don't say this out loud then I'll mess it up somehow, without realising. Julie, I love you... and... I want you to feel like you have a real home here... with us. Because... I want to build a future with you. I want to grow old with you."

She turned to meet my kiss as I held her cheek, overwhelmed with her words, her warm lips catching mine in a slow, silent confirmation of our love.

The taste of her sexy lips lingered on mine. My voice broke as I fought to find the right words.

"I want that too, Rebecca. More than anything. I don't believe how lucky I am to have even met you... and now... I can't imagine my life without you."

I could feel the tension drain from her.

"And home... home is where you are mon amour. I love it here. I don't need us to plan every move, I just need to know this is it. Us together. Always."

Her green eyes held mine, full of love.

"And uhm... I know I'm not... her parent," I said, careful now. "But Sophie is a big part of that for me. I care about her. Very much. I want to always be there for her too."

I could see her lips pressing together, fighting tears.

"She cares about you too."

I nodded.

"I know, but I also know she's still figuring out what this means, how it works. And that's okay. We can take it slow."

She smiled.

"You know, she asked me last night if you're going to officially move in with us."

"Oh?"

"She said you already have a toothbrush here and half my closet, we should stop tiptoeing around it."

I couldn't help a quiet laugh.

"I told her we'd talk about it. That we were figuring it out together."

Her arm came around my shoulders.

I let the silence stretch a bit, staring at the overgrown garden, the shadows starting to creep into the corners as the sun lowered its gaze.

I loved sitting quietly with her like this, just leaning into her lovely body, basking in the subtle but ever-present pull of her gravity on my soul.

"What did you see, that first night? In me?"

I could almost feel her shifting back to the Hotel-Dieu two years ago, reminiscing. She knew how I'd felt, how I simply hadn't been able to look away from this golden-haired goddess that blessed my bar with her presence.

She smiled.

"I saw this incredibly hot woman giving me the eye, such a sexy, interesting mix of punky and pro..."

She chuckled, but then her words took on that quiet cadence of someone remembering a moment that changed their lives.

"I... I saw a chance to be desired again... to take control over my life after too many years of... I don't know...? Following the road rather than deciding it? Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"And then... I saw you... all of you. You gave me everything, and I felt loved for the first time in years. You gave me what I had dreamed about. Even that first night you... you loved me. With everything you had. You understood me. Here."

Her hand was on her heart.

"We were one."

"Yes," I managed, just a whisper. A breath.

Those perfect Cupid's bow lips pressed to mine once again, as we each said our quiet thanks for that chance meeting of hearts.

The back door creaked, the sound of bare feet stepping out with a purpose. We looked up at her, hoodie over oversized t-shirt and pyjama shorts, holding an open packet of crisps.

"You're looking all... couply. Have you been snogging out here?"

"Yes, with tongue," Rebecca challenged, unfazed.

"Eeewwww," Sophie exclaimed with mock disgust. "Old people kissing. I'm traumatised. There will be therapy bills."

She took a step down.

"Scoot."

There wasn't really room, but she squeezed in, folded herself onto the step between us like she'd been doing it for years, leaning into me as she settled.

I stayed still. She'd chosen this spot, between us. It felt... right. My heart went all soft in the middle, letting her rest against me.

What are we doing for dinner? She held out the crisp bag toward no one in particular. "Can we do takeout? I've just barely survived an hour-long rant about Christa's stupid boyfriend. I'm emotionally spent."

"Sure sweetie. Indian okay?"

"You're the best, mum."

"Oh, I am, am I? I'm afraid I'm going to need that in writing."

"No way, I'm not giving written evidence that can be used against me."

I chuckled, admiring their easy banter. Sophie pointed the crisps packet at me. I reached for one, popping it into my mouth with a crunch. Rebecca reached over, ruffled her hair and stole the crisps with a quick swoop.

"Oi! Give that back! Julie, control your girlfriend!"

I didn't say it, but I felt it then.

We weren't just a couple anymore; we were beginning to feel like a family.

+++++ Rebecca +++++

London, 3 days before Christmas.

"Mum?"

Sophie's big duffel bag was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, still open as she rummaged upstairs for the last things she needed. There seemed to be a lot of those.

"Muuum!?"

Julie was bringing our bags down the stairs, packed and ready for our two weeks in Lyon. She was finishing up her job at the Hotel Dieu de Lyon over Christmas and I was going to stay with her and help her move back after New Years.

Just two weeks, and then I would have her home with me for good.

It felt wonderful.

Her new Head Waiter job at the Manderley, my very own Shoreditch project, started in February, so she would have plenty of time to settle in with us. I knew she was happy but still a little nervous. I had connected her with the owners and she had aced the interview of course. Lennon said we would have to ditch the Edition and make it our new watering hole, it was just too perfect having a place that I'd designed and personal service from the head waiter. I'd just have to get used to having my girlfriend serve me, she said with a wink.

I had absolutely no problem with that.

The last 12 months had been thrilling, even if jumping back and forth between London and Lyon had been a little taxing for both of us, trying to make our schedules fit, stealing weekends when possible. Her schedule at the hotel was rigid and she often took extra shifts for the money, so it wasn't easy for her to get time off. But we made it work.

It was wonderful to have her with us for her summer holidays here and then the three of us were able to take a two weeks vacation at the beach in Italy in August. Julie looked scorching in a bikini.

In the fall, she had been able to negotiate her schedule, so she worked whole weeks at a time instead of a few days on and off. That meant then having a whole week off so she could come home to us every other week. It changed everything.

I had butterflies in my tummy every time I went to pick her up from the airport.

Her weeks in London usually coincided with Sophie's weeks at home. It meant that they got to know each other better, spending time together, finding things they had in common, learning each other's quirks and rhythms.

Julie loved her, it was obvious. I could see how she took care to include her whenever she could, making sure she felt comfortable, and that our relationship wasn't making Sophie feel less wanted or pushed to the side. When she was in London, she was never just coming home to me, always coming home to us.

It was the same when we were in Lyon together. She did everything she could to make Sophie feel welcome in her small flat and in her life there. To make her feel loved. She understood perfectly that building a relationship with Sophie was a very important part of being with me.

I loved her even more for it, if that was possible, revelling in the joy of our new family.

I hadn't thought I could love someone so completely. And now, I didn't understand why it had taken me so long to accept my feelings for her.

Lennon said I'd just been plain scared. She was probably right.

Looking back, I knew there was something special there from the moment I watched her sneak away from my room after that first night at the Hotel-Dieu two years ago. And the pang of loss I felt as the plane had carried me away from her that Boxing Day afternoon should have told me I was in love. Or rather, it did, but I wasn't listening.

So, I wasted a year.

But I had finally found love. Real love. The kind that makes the world slow down, your brain go quiet, and your heart feel at peace at something as simple as a quiet hug on the sofa.

My wonderful Julie.

I even introduced her to Lennon, but only after lecturing Len about how I would never forgive her if she made Julie feel less than welcome. She just gave me the eyebrow and ripped into Julie with too intimate and inappropriate questions first chance she got.

Julie just shrugged it off and gave her completely inappropriate answers with an earful of Bermondsey snark. Lennon says that if I ever let her go, she'll personally make sure I go to jail for stupidity.

"MUUUUUUMMM!?"

"Yes, yes! I'm not deaf, what do you need sweetie?"

"I can't find my bloody headph... oh! never mind I found them!"

I was standing in the kitchen getting ready to put the kettle on like a good housewife, trying to not get dragged into all the commotion.

Ten minutes until Sophie would be out the door, an hour until we had to leave for the airport. We could do this.

"I found them!" Sophie shouted as she came thundering down the stairs, waving her headphones triumphantly.

"But now I can't find my charger."

"Here, take mine."

I unplugged it from the kitchen wall and held it out to her.

"I can get another one at Heathrow."

Julie came into the kitchen, our bags packed and ready to go. Even when everything had to happen at once, she did everything with purpose and without stress.

I guessed managing our little bouts of chaos was a lot less daunting than making a hotel bar full of five-star guests feel happy and satisfied. Or keeping a South London pub from blowing up on a Saturday night. I guess after that experience, anything else felt like a walk in the park.

"She's packed like she's emigrating," she said under her breath.

I smirked, faking a shocked voice.

"It's two whole weeks Julie! It's not like she has a key to come back here any time she likes and get whatever she forgot or needs. Or you know, her own room over there, full of her clothes and a second set of most of her stuff."

Julie laughed.

"She's adorable."

"She is."

"She's just like you, you know. Organised."

I raised my eyebrows.

"You're calling our very own teen agent of chaos organised?"

"Sure. She's got every detail planned; she just hasn't got the timing right yet. She'll be formidable when she figures that part out."

I couldn't help smiling. The warmth in her voice was unmistakable.

Sophie skidded into the kitchen, breathless. "Is dad here?"

"No, he just texted, he's five minutes out. Plenty of time for panic."

She looked at me a bit wild eyed.

"Is it weird that I don't want to go?" she asked, not looking at either of us as she dumped the duffel on the table and zipped it closed.

"I know you'd love to come to Lyon, but you know you and your dad will be fine. And we're just going to be packing Julie's flat anyway."

"You'll have a good time," Julie offered gently.

She shrugged.

"I know. It's just going to be so quiet with just dad and granny. Even Christa is away skiing!"

"Sweetie, it's two weeks with your dad, who spinelessly gives you anything you want when you bat those Bambi eyes at him."

She smiled, knowing I was right. I could see ideas churning behind her eyes. She had a great relationship with her dad, thankfully.

"You'll blink and it'll be January, and we'll all be home. Together."

Julie was beside her now, putting the scarf around her neck, checking the zip on the bag again. Making sure everything was in its place and that Sophie had everything she needed. She made it look easy and natural, but I could see the little signs that said she was still not sure where she fit into our family.

I had told her not to worry. She was our Julie.

We would find our family rhythm.

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be him now. You ready?"

Sophie hefted the bag over her shoulder and came to hug me tight.

"Bye mum. Call me when you get to Lyon, okay?"

"I will sweetie."

She let me go and looked at Julie. The hesitation was tiny. A breath, maybe less.

"Bye... maman."

Quiet. And still so loud.

Julie froze. Sophie looked uncertain.

"Is that... okay?"

Julie reached out and pulled her into a fierce hug, more like a hold, full and unguarded.

"Yes... yes, of course it's okay love. It's more than okay."

I could hear the tears in her quiet voice.

"Thank you."

Sophie relaxed into the hug, savouring their quiet, loving moment. Then she pulled back, blinking fast.

"I'll text when we get in," she said, already heading for the door. I still saw the quick wipe of her cheek as she turned.

Ed grabbed her bag as soon as she opened the door and waved a short goodbye and 'have a good trip' with a smile.

We stood in the hallway waving and watching the door close behind them.

Julie's cheeks were wet with her happy tears. I took her in my arms.

She looked at me, helpless and undone in the most beautiful way.

"She... I... I hoped... but..."

I hugged her tighter, my heart filled with joy that this meant so much to her.

"I know my love. She loves you too."

She rested her forehead against my chest in a silent admission of love. I kissed the top of her head, my lips lingering in the hot pink streaks in her hair. Our breaths matching, our heartbeats finding their common rhythm.

Our Julie. My Julie.

My Christmas miracle.

The kettle clicked off behind us. We ignored it.

---

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