I was exhausted. I spent nearly four hours in my room studying. Where am I, exactly? Tours, France. I received the chance to study abroad in the city of Tours for a whole year. Get to stay with a host family and everything. When I first arrived, I thought I was staying with a full family. Turns out I’m living with a woman with a cat and three kittens. I’m sort of an unofficial au pair to the cats. I am lucky to receive a host mom who speaks English fluently. She even breaks the rule of only speaking French. It was a quiet night for me. My host mom had a business meeting to attend to in Paris and would spend the night there. It was time for me to feed the cats, so I had to round them up in the yard which is a chore because the little ones loved to hide from me. I’m pretty sure one of them peed in my shoe. I was in the beautiful yard that I have grown accustomed to walking barefoot on. It was a challenge, but I finally grabbed them all.

I hear a car driving. I wonder who would be driving home at this time of night. I realize the car belonged to my neighbor from across the street, Christophe. What was he doing out so late at night? Damn it, I can’t stop smiling. I’ve had a little crush on Christophe since I started the program. We first met when my host mom and I were invited for tea and to look at his yard. Like my host mom, Christophe and his friend/roommate, David, liked planting. When I first saw him, I fell in love with his piercing blue eyes and long, curly hair. The first meeting was filled with me asking him to repeat things and look up words in his roommate’s English to French dictionary. I would always see him in his workshop working away on his puppets. Yep, the guy is a puppeteer, actor, and singer. I often went with my host mom to see his performances. I snap back to reality when I realize that one of the kittens had gotten loose.

“Shit!” I walk around the yard looking for the kitten when I notice Christophe had gotten out of his car. I guess he heard me because I can see him walking towards the gate.

“Yolande?” I look up after hearing the French version of my name. At first, it confused me when everyone called me Yolande instead of Yolanda. Now, I don’t mind it as much…well at least when Christophe says it.

“Bonjour, Christophe. (Hello, Christophe.)”

“Hello, Yolande.” I almost melt whenever we exchange our inside joke. One day, I was frustrated with my crappy day at school and he was in his yard. He invited me over and I ranted to him in English by mistake forgetting he barely spoke the language. Ever since he always greets me in English. “Ça va? (You okay?)”

“Oui. Un petit chat est perdu. (A kitten is lost.)”

“Besoin d’aide? (Need help?)”

“Oui. Merci. (Yes.  Thank you.)”

I opened the gate to let him in then walked away to put the other kittens inside before they got any ideas. They were safe and secure in my host mom’s room. I was back outside when I halted in my tracks when I saw Christophe on his hands and knees looking under a bush. His ass looked so good in the jeans he had on...though he really didn’t have that much of an ass. It just dawned on me that I was alone in the yard, at night, with Christophe, and I was in my pajamas. I bend down to join him on the ground. I smell him and he smells like sweat and…wood. He must’ve came from the theatre. Something about the way he smells makes me want to push him down on the ground and fuck right in the yard. I thought about how his hands would feel all over my body. Those same hands I watched make a puppets of frogs, cats, historical figures.

I hear a small meow at the door of the laundry room. We both got up and walked over to the scared kitten. Christophe scooped up the kitten and we both walked inside. I grabbed the cat food from the fridge and opened two cans. Christophe had to keep the kittens entertained so they wouldn’t attack me for the food. The mother cat wasn’t even being her protective self, otherwise she would scratch Christophe. While I’m in the middle of preparing their food, I realize I want to talk to Christophe more. I’m not sure if he’s tired or if he’s sleepy, but it is really quiet in this house…well besides the cats. I place their bowls down on the ground and they barrel towards them abandoning Christophe. We both laugh at hungry they are. I pause before I think about asking him to stay.  Maybe just a little longer.

“Je suppose qu'ils ont très faim. (I guess they were very hungry.)”

“Oui. Christophe, tu veux du thé? (Yes. Christophe, you want some tea?)” I look at with uneasiness as I really wanted him to stay. I see a smile forming at his lips. Oh, those beautiful lips of his.

“Bien sûr. (Of course.)” I smile at him, and I grab the kettle and turn the eye up on the stove. He sits down at the dinner table in the chair adjacent to mine. I pull out the chamomile tea and go to my chair to wait for the water to heat.

“Donc, n'importe quelles nouvelles marionnettes? (So, any new puppets?)”

“Un lapin. C’est presque finis. (A rabbit. It’s almost finished.)”

“Bon. (Good.)”

“Yolande, c’est la milieu du ton voyage. Comment tu te sens? (Yolanda, it’s the middle of your trip. How do you feel?)”

“Je manquerai la France. J’adore la cuisine, ma mère d'accueil et les chatons, le vin, tout. Mais, je veux voir ma famille dans Amerique. (I will miss France. I love the food, my host mom and the kittens, the wine, everything. But, I want to see my family in America.)”

“I understand.” I was completely shocked that Christophe spoke English. I spent many days trying to keep up in conversation with him and David. David knew more English than Christophe and would often help me out.

“Tu parles anglais?! (You speak English?!)”

“I…have…been…taking classes.” Christophe waited in anticipation for me to tell him if he said it correctly. The man has been speaking English just recently, yet his English is better than most native speakers. I nod and he beams with pride.

I hear the kettle whistle and I leap from my chair to remove the boiling water. I put the chamomile in the tea-ball and place it in the kettle to steep. If I hadn’t known any better, I could’ve sworn Christophe was staring at my ass. Maybe it was just my imagination…or my wishful thinking. I sit back down and we exchange awkward, silent glances. I see one of the kittens heading towards the door and I instantly get up and redirect it to my host mom’s room. Christophe tells me how much the kittens have gotten bigger since I was first here. I mentioned how they tend to run from me because one of them peed in my shoe. His laugh is intoxicating. He was telling me more about the new puppet he was building…or at least I think he was saying. I still have trouble understanding him.

I try to concentrate on what he says, but my eyes always travel to his lips. Those bright, pink lips. His deep voice ringing in my ears. I can smell brewed tea and this time Christophe gets up and pours the tea while I get up and grab the honey. I always mock him and my host mom for always drinking tea by itself…no honey or sugar. I can’t do it. Plain tea just tastes bland to me. He retorts my teasing with me having my coffee too sweet. I am guilty of going through the sugar supply. I often buy the sugar. He pours his tea and immediately sips it. I grimace…I still don’t see how he can drink the tea without any sweeteners. I stand at the table and try to open the jar of honey. The lid often gets stuck and is hard to open. I groan in frustration laughing nervously as I know I look like a dork in front of him. I was not expecting the force of me finally opening the damn thing causing some of the honey to fly out of the jar. It flew right onto my chest.

“Damn it!” I feel so embarrassed. Ew, the honey is dripping down my tank-top…my beautiful yellow tank-top. I know Christophe is having a field day with this. “Un moment. (One moment.)” I rush upstairs to change my top. It had to be the dumbest thing a girl could ever do in front of a man they like. I peel off my top knowing I’m going have to hand wash that tomorrow. I’m only in my bra and pajama bottoms searching frantically in my drawer for a new pajama top.

“Yolande?” Christophe’s voice startled me. I did not hear him come up the stairs

“Holy fucking shit! You scared me!” his brows furrow in confusion. I bite my lip forgetting he didn’t know what the hell I was saying. I realize I’m topless, and I quickly cover up…well, tried to. He blushes beet-red as his eyes stared at my flesh. He quickly turns and heads towards the stairs.

“Christophe?”

I see him halt in his tracks. He turns around as I stare into his apologetic eyes. Those sky-blue eyes are locked with mine. For some possessed reason, I took my arm down letting it rest at my side. We stare at each other not knowing what to say. I knew I couldn’t turn back from this point. Those eyes darken with lust as he exhales, drinking in the sight of me. He inches closer to me taking each hesitating step…as if he was careful not to break priceless porcelain. I realize the importance of this night. All the sexual tension, that I thought was one-sided, exploded. I had a feeling he was attracted to me, but I was so afraid to ask. I am now face to face with Christophe. His hand stretches out and immediately pulls me into a kiss. Holy crap, I’m kissing Christophe. I reach up and instantly run my fingers through his curls. His hands roams over my bra-clad breasts as I move down to his chin. His beard tickling my cheek ever so slightly.

I feel our bodies fall onto the bed. Christophe removes his jacket and kicks off his shoes. I thought he would gain a conscience and stop this madness, yet here we are, making out on my bed. I always imagined this moment. I would touch myself at night thinking about him moaning in my ear, those curls between my thighs, his hands touching my heated flesh. In all my months of staying here in France, I was nowhere in the getting any department. The closest I gotten was flirting with a bi-sexual German guy in the program who already had a boyfriend. He knew…somehow Christophe knew I was aching to be touched. I feel his erect manhood on my thigh which makes me want him even more. Christophe rests his head in the valley of my breasts licking the dried remnants of the honey on my chest. His tongue is so warm and wet…I tremble just imagining how it would feel between my legs. Suddenly, I feel Christophe stops his motions and pull away from me.

“Attends, attends. (Wait, wait.)”

“Quoi? (What?)” I really hope he wasn’t backing out of this. He licks his lips trying to figure out what to say.

“Es-tu sûr? (Are you sure?)” Christophe and I are sitting up on the bed as he runs a shaky hand through his tresses. I can see he’s restraining himself, but all I want is for him to touch me.

I give him my answer by lunging towards him, pinning him down by my weight. A laugh ripples from his throat which turns into a moan as I lick a slow trail up his neck. I guide his hand to my soaked sex to let him know what he’s doing to me. He’s cursing in French gasping as I roll my hips making him even more aroused. His course hands grips my ass caressing me hungrily. My hand slips inside his jeans and feels his organ. I help him out and undo his jeans feeling his cock spring free into the air. He scoots further on the bed only to take off his T-shirt revealing his lean torso. I didn’t care if he lacked pecks and abs. He was perfect to me. I lift up and wiggle my pajama bottoms off loving how I torture him further by rubbing against his extremity. I unhook my bra and toss it aside. He instantly latches onto my hardened nipple while his other hand is squeezing the other one. His strong hands ripped my lace panties right from under me. If I wasn’t so turned on by that I would kill him. Those were my favorite pair.

I see him dig through the pockets of his jeans and he found a condom. Did he know we were going to do this or was it one of those guy things? I don’t care as I straddle him devouring his neck and his collarbone while he’s rolling the condom on his dick. In one hard thrust, Christophe is inside me, and I arch back in ecstasy. I grip his curls hearing him growl in pure pleasure. The sweat on our bodies makes our skin shine in the moonlight from my window. I didn’t realize how good he felt until I yelled out in English. He, in turn, bellowed French curse words as our body twisted in many positions. I was now on my hands and knees feeling his lips blazing a trail down my back. I reach behind me and pull Christophe in a kiss. I know that tonight this will be our secret that no one else would know. My host mom would kill him. I’m basically like a daughter to her, and if she knew I was in bed with the same man that fix things around the house and help her with her flowers, she would definitely not like it. I can tell he was close and he snaked his hand to my front to stroke my clit to match his thrusts.

“Mmm…Christophe….” I come shaking felling my legs giving out on me after he explodes breathing heavily in my ear. I cannot catch my damn breath as his weight presses my spent body on the mattress. I feel Christophe kissing the back of my neck while he’s stroking my thighs. I feel him roll off to the spot next to me.

“Wow….”

“Je sais. (I know.)”

I feel myself cooling down from the high I just experienced. I kept touching him to make sure he was real and not my dream. He told me how he always fantasized about me at night. It made me blush considering I just had sex with the man. My fantasy was completely fulfilled, and now we will have another inside thing that no one will get. After a few moments, we both got up and dressed. I found my robe and slipped it on. It was an awkward walk down the stairs. Christophe looked over at the now cold tea and smirked. I wanted him to make sure that this was not going any further.

“Christophe, ce soir.… (Christophe, tonight….)” he turned around and walked up to me and kissed me again. He pulled away and was at the door.

“Shh…c’est un secret. (Shh…it’s a secret.)” with a finger to his lips and a wink, he left my the house wandering to his own house smiling the whole way.