Roswell Fanatics

Winner - Round 10



Winner - Round 9









Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk

Disclaimer: I, in no way, am associated with the actors, writers, producers, etc. of Roswell. The rights to the show belong to 20th Century Fox, Jason Katims, the WB, etc.

Summary: An Alternate Universe. No one is an Alien. Liz was supposed to be on her honeymoon with the man of her dreams, in the capital of romance, Paris. But things did not turn out as expected.

Category: M&L

Rating: ADULT.

NOTE!!! This story is VERY ADULT oriented and depicts scenes of a highly sexual nature. If you are under '18', or if you are not allowed to read such material where you live, then please press the back button now.



http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk ... swalk5.jpg
Banner by WR

http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk ... faward.jpg
ARF Award, February 2006

http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk ... adultw.jpg
Memories Award, February 2006


Prologue

I Remember Paris in 49,
The Champs Elyses,
Saint Michel
and old Beaujolais wine
And I recall
That you were mine
In those Parisienne days

Looking back
at the photographs
Those summer days
spent outside corner cafes

Oh I could write you
paragraphs,
about those
Parisienne days

( Phil Lynott/Gary Moore )

-----


Saturday - July 16th


As the green luminescent figures on the bedside clock changed from '6:59' into '7:00' with barely a whisper, the staccato of a high pitched bleeping reverberated throughout the darkened bedroom. On a queen-sized bed, a slim, feminine hand emerged from beneath the duvet, and upon meeting the source of the offending noise, pressed one of the large buttons. With the termination of the annoying beeps, silence once again returned to the bedroom. With a soft groan, the occupant threw back the duvet to reveal a slim, attractive young woman, no more than eighteen years old, with long, deep brown hair, beautiful brown eyes and a wonderfully clear complexion. She had a lovely figure, with shapely long legs and her breasts, while although not considered to be very large, appeared to be well shaped, and firm beneath her night attire. She wore an elegant silk night dress, the smooth material creased from her night's sleep. Her hand absently drifted across to the pillow beside her and after gently caressing it, her face showed the intense sadness of a painful absence. He was not here.

The lovely young woman closed her eyes, and let out a soft sigh as a tear trickled from her lids and rolled down the side of her face where it disappeared into her dark hairline. A faint, sad, bittersweet smile played across her soft, full and sensuous lips.

"I love you," she softly whispered to the emptiness beside her. "I always will."

Wiping away another tear with the back of her hand, the dark haired beauty rose and after smoothing the silk material of her nightdress over her lovely figure, she moved towards the bathroom, where she would take her shower, making herself ready for the day ahead.

Emerging from the cloud of steam with only a towel wrapped around her, she sat before her dressing table mirror. She remembered how, in the past, he would come up behind her. The towel would not remain in place for very long. He thought she looked so gorgeous, all wet like this. He would proceed to make her more wet, not that she needed it. Around him, she was always wet. She had loved him so much, too much, perhaps. It always led to having to take another shower, this time with him. And that only led to more... play. She picked up her hair dryer, and proceeded to dry her long lustrous dark brown locks. Once dry, she carefully gripped it at the back of her head and started to pull an elastic band over it, forming a ponytail. With a sad shake of her head, she let it fall loose again.

'No,' she thought to herself. 'That was someone else. That is not who I am any more. He saw to that.

Instead, she brushed it out, and after carefully applying a parting to one side, allowed her dark brown hair to frame her lovely, fresh, young face. She carefully applied a touch of makeup, as she had been taught, to emphasis her features. He always told her she didn't need it, but he never complained when she put it on.


She rose from the seat at her dressing table, and stood before a full-length mirror, next to her wardrobe. She allowed the towel to drop to the floor, and looked carefully at her naked reflection in the mirror. She knew that she was beautiful, for had he not told her so? She looked at her face, seeing the pretty young woman she had become. She had a smooth and graceful neck that led to her small but firm, proud breasts. She had a smooth flat stomach with a jeweled pin through her navel, the result of a dare from him. Her smooth haven had been shaved clean purely for the purpose of their enjoyment. And how much enjoyment he had taken from it. That had become another of their shower routines. This morning was the first time she had performed that task herself in ages. Then there were her long legs, legs that he found so irresistible, like the rest of her.

'What man could resist?' she sighed to herself. But one young man had.

She placed the palms of her hands on her soft, but firm thighs, and gently caressed them upwards, sliding across her hips, up her stomach, over the ridge of her rib cage, and gently cupped the soft flesh of her breasts. Her nipples reacted instantly as she gently ran her forefingers over them, firming themselves in the middle of her darker pink aureole. In her mind, he was behind her, caressing her like he had so many times before.

"Oh!" she gasped, as a shudder ran down her body.

She emitted a strong sigh of desire. The young woman sadly looked again to her empty bed, and closed her eyes, a gentle tear appearing on each eyelash. She was only bringing back feelings of him, of what his touch could do to her. In his hands, she had been putty, a thing to be shaped, molded. And how he had molded her! She pushed the memory from her mind. He no longer had that right.

From a small drawer, she carefully pulled out a pale peach front fastening bra and matching briefs. Both were quite dainty, delicate, almost and made of silk, a material she had grown accustomed to, all lace. They were a far cry from the boring, plain cotton garments she used to wear. The ones she wore before she met... him. Who would have thought that she would allow herself to be so easily transformed by him? She stepped into her panties, and pulled them up firmly, fitting them snugly to herself. She shuddered as the sensuous material slid across her sensitive spot, hidden by her feminine folds. Until she had met him, they had been untouched. Now they belonged to him. She could not imagine anyone else touching them again, except for her, of course. Her trust was gone.

She ran her hands across her panty-lined bottom, and gave a gentle smile. It had been quite a while since she had worn briefs. She had become accustomed to wearing thongs, but this was wholly inappropriate today. She would only wear them for special occasions, now. But would there ever be another special occasion? With him, every occasion, every event, every waking moment had been special.

She then laced her arms through the bra-straps, and pulled the cups together and over her breasts. Still erect, her aroused nipples tingled beneath the soft bite of the smooth silk. Again, her body gave a soft shudder, reminding her of his soft touch, his gentle lips, and his teasing tongue as it softly...

'Stop this!' she commanded while shaking herself from her dreamy reverie. "It's over!"

Gently, she hooked the fastening between the cups together, and very cautiously, used her hands to tuck her tingling breasts into place. Now that they were firmly held together, there was a hint of some cleavage. She glanced at the garter belt still in the drawer, and tilted her head. Would this be inappropriate? She wanted to feel special today, so she picked it up and fastened it around her waist. Comfort be damned. Pulling an elegant white pair of silk stockings, she sat on the chair, and carefully pulled them up her smooth legs until she stood up and was able to fix them to the fastenings.

She turned to her wardrobe, and looked at the jeans and sweatshirts that hung to one side. She shook her head with a faint smile.

'No,' she thought. 'Not anymore. Not since I learned how to dress nicely. For him.'

But he was not here. It was his loss.

'And mine,' she confirmed sadly, reaching for a peach dress that now hung with dozens more colored garments.

She would dress for impact today, to show them all that she was over it. That she had returned a stronger woman, ready to face her future. To show him that she did not need him anymore. But she knew that she was just lying to herself. She needed him, so badly, like she needed air to breathe. The dress was short, much shorter than she would have worn a few months ago, but she was a new person now. The button down dress had a flared, pleated skirt, short sleeves, and a collar. Completely respectable yet so elegantly classy.

The V-neck offered only a slight glimpse of the small amount of cleavage that had been created by her uplifting bra, but there were a few hints of that delicate garment. She remembered how he liked to trace the edges of her revealed flesh with his fingers. It had become a game to see how much she would expose to him, and how long he could keep his control. Too many times, they had lost control. She still blushed when she remembered the times they were almost caught, or worse, the time they had been. She selected a pair of court shoes, peach, to match her dress, with a three-inch heel. Lower than she had become used to, but he would not be at her side; she had no need of the extra height.

By the time she reached the dining room, it had become packed with people. Hardly a male eye didn't turn to watch her. She had become used to this, but usually, he was at her side. This morning, alone, she suddenly felt naked. The waiter was smiling at her when he took her order. A bowl of corn flakes, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee. As she ate the cereal, her mind drifted to the many breakfasts she had shared with him.

They would have had croissants, delivered that morning from the bakery down the road, and would pull bite-sized morsels from the warm, crumbly delicacy, gently feeding each other, spreading the dropped flakes of pastry across the bed they had shared. Laughing like school children, they would lick the grease from each other's fingers, and the fallen flakes from each other's bodies. This would only serve to ignite their desires, and their bodies would combine together in an erotic tango of love, crying each other's name as their passions cascaded over them at their joint climax.

But had it been love? It had been so, for her. But what of him? What had he felt? She had been so sure that he had loved her as much as she had loved him. She had felt their connection. They had shared something. Her eyes misted again, and she took a mouthful of coffee. When she returned home, she would change from using instant for freshly ground coffee, made with a caffetiere, filling the house with the wonderful aroma, a smell that would remind her of... No. This was not a good idea. Did she really want reminders of him? Why torture her with memories of a life she once had.

She looked up at the clock, and noticed that time was passing. She had things to do. Dabbing her lips with her napkin, she rose from the table, and left the dining room, and the dozens of pairs of eyes that watched her leave. She took the elevator to her floor, remembering the times that they had played, hoping that the door would not suddenly open and allow innocent eyes to see such wild and not so innocent goings on. The elevator stopped at her floor and with another sigh, she headed to her room, to pack her clothes. She was going home today.

* * *

The bellboy helped to put her suitcase in the trunk of the taxicab, and as she slid into the back seat, she saw the driver's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror in the hope of seeing something up her dress. His eyes widened and he started to smile.

"Charles De Gaulle," she spoke to him in the accent that she had subconsciously picked up.

How absurdly easy it was, but it did help to trick people onto believing you were French and therefore not subject to being ripped off. He had taught her that.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," he nodded, causing her to place her hand over the finger that once held her ring.

He tried to engage her in conversation, but she waved him away with an apologetic "Je suis fatiguée."

In silence, she watched Paris disappear and wondered where he had been these last few days. She would have liked to say goodbye at least, after all they had shared. But he had taken her at her word and stayed away.

After he set her suitcase down onto a luggage trolley, she paid the driver and gave him a hefty tip.

"Merci, Mademoiselle," he touched his cap. "Bon voyage, et bonne chance."

Moving through the terminal, she handed in her suitcase, she showed the security her passport, they searched her hand luggage and she went through to the departure lounge. After purchasing a bag of candy and a bottle of water, she sat in a corner and stared through the window at the distant French countryside. When they called her flight, she joined the line to board, and before she entered the tunnel that led to her plane, she took a last look around. Paris had been a terrible idea for a honeymoon.


* * *

Hi everyone,

Wow. I am so pleased by the initial response to my story. For those of you who don't know me that well, you might like to know that posting this has worried me. It's a little more risque than I normally write. Hotter than even the stuff I have written in "The Christmas Angel" and in "Blue Remembered Hills".

And I promise, that the chapters are much longer than the prologue.

There are so many new names I have never seen on my stories before. Please check out my website if you would like to read my other stories. I have a few that might be worth checking out. Right?

Erina258 - I will update as often as I can, but this story takes a back seat to my current CC canon fic, Red Shift. But for a while, at least, it will be weekly. All you questions will be answered in tonight's chapter. Apart from the last one, why did he leave her.

begonia9508 - I like sweet As for alone... well, only for the last part of it.

g7silvers - Hmmm... well, your imprssion is close. But you sill understand mor after tonight.

cocopucks - Thanks you. I will.

omwf - Please do not worry. I am neither bad mouthing Paris, not France. I happen to have a fondness for Paris and have always wanted to base a fic there. I just needed the story.

maya - Thank you. And you will recieve the answers.

Ellie - And so you shall.

believer_evans - In a manner of speaking, yes. Something happened to her fiance. She married him.

lazza - You will soon find out all you need to know, except the what happened part.

Heavenli24 - Well... I suppose there are worse things that could happen than having your honeymoon with Max. LOL. Well, you the ladies, anyway. I'd rather have mine with Liz.

dreamer destiny - Glad you like it

martine - Well... If Max appears later in the story, that means that it's not Max she is married to. That she spent the first part of her honeymoon being totally transformed by someone else.

Jason's Lover - And here I am, back with more

vampyrax - Back with answers. Lots and lots of them.

L-J-L 76 - I will. So far, I have completed every story I ever started to post, so I have a good track record.

Michelle17 - I'm back!

anonymousarfan - Well, anwers you shall recieve... as long as you remain hooked.

frenchkiss70 - Very interesting questions. And the answers, I hope, will prove just as interesting.

abbs007 - I hope I can keep it.

Alien 614 - out of three, I'd say... 1 1/2 right.

BehrObsession - Well... Who else could it be? Really?

NorafanofMaxandLiz - Oh yes. This is the hot one. You may have noticed the prologue has changed from the one you read... so long ago now. So too did the story behind it.

BordersInsanity. Waste any time?? How long ago did you first see the prologue? LOL.

Mica - The Line "IS" from Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits and relates to my other story, Red Shift. Have you checked it out yet?

Emz80m - As long as the intrigue lasts and you enjoy the story

cherie - Glad to hear it, glad you like the banner and it's a song, actually. There are two versions. One by Phil Lynot( Thin Lizzie) and the other by Gary Moore. Both are good and worth listening to.

alienmom - Heh heh heh... and you're lack of disappointment is not over yet. We'll get to the good bits, soon.

Natz - Thank you

AJK001 - And the great part is, no need for a seat belt. None at all! (Although, can you spot the place I REALLY contemplated ending this chapter? )

Scottie -

In silence, she watched Paris disappear and wondered where he had been these last few days. She would have liked to say goodbye at least, after all they had shared. But he had taken her at her word and stayed away.

So whoever it was, he was only doing what he believed she wanted. And like I said before. Would you really want it to be someone else to turns Liz into the gorgeouse princess? Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'm sure you will love where this goes.

Roswell 10/2/00 - Thank you And well... perhaps she only THINKS he resisted her.

smokie - It seems you are. But I'm sure they will all change their minds. LOL. As for your question... it is answered in this post. Just keep reading through this part, okay?

PDM - Came back as soon as I could

Michelle In Yonkers - But then, maybe she didn't as much change FOR him as BECAUSE of him.



Okay. This post should answere at least a few questions for you. Make everything a little more clear.

* * *


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 1 - A Wedding Surprise

Friday - July 1st - Two weeks earlier.


The room could only be described as chaotic. But in that strange sense of rightness that always seems to appear whenever a small group of young ladies are involved with hair products and makeup, that chaos was decidedly organized. Sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, while her two best friends in the world buzzed around her with brush, comb, bobby pins, lipstick and eyeliner, eighteen-year-old Elizabeth Parker was feeling more than a little anxious. It was, after all, her wedding day, and in just a few short hours, she would be marrying the man of her dreams.


Her two best friends, both of whom would be her bridesmaids, stepped back and smiled at the completed masterpiece.

"You're beautiful, Liz," Maria Deluca stared at her with awe.

"Of course she is," Pam Troy grinned. "How else do you think she managed to catch this town's number one hunk?"


It has been the oddest friendship in the history of West Roswell High School, Roswell, New Mexico. First, there was Maria Deluca. A regular firecracker, she could argue with the best of them. And often did. Not really into fashion, not really into study, Maria was not really into anything, except her music. She had a voice that made you sit down and listen, and she liked nothing more than to write her own songs.

Then there was Pamela Troy. She was everything, the top dog... female variety, of course, the big kahuna. Pam was the head cheerleader, the class President, the Prom Queen from both the junior and senior proms, and had been voted Homecoming Queen every year since she had joined West Roswell High in her freshman year. She was the beautiful social butterfly, the 'it' girl, the Queen Bee.

And then there was Elizabeth Parker. Perfect Parker, they all called her, because that's what she was. She never broke curfew, she never did things that she wasn't supposed to, she never, ever disobeyed her parents. She was the mousy bookworm who was the Science Club president, Valedictorian and the most un-cool dressed teenager in Roswell. She always wore jeans, flat, sensible shoes and she always kept her hair in a neat ponytail. Her popularity was always assured because the Parkers were high up in the wealth stakes. Not exactly rich, but comfortably well off. And they were easily one of the nicest families in Roswell, always seeing the good in everyone and regularly attending church, every Sunday. Liz even ran a Sunday School class for the kids.


As Pam had once succinctly put it, they were 'hot mouth', 'hot bod' and 'hot brains'.

"And here you are, marrying the hottest guy in school," Pam chuckled. "I so cannot believe it." She dropped her teasing voice. "He's one of the good ones, Liz."

"Yeah," Liz giggled. "I know."

"It's just so romantic," Maria clutched her hands to her breast. "Getting married a month after we graduated from high school. And then you are flying to Paris for your honeymoon. I mean, two whole weeks in Paris? And then, when the two of you come back, we all leave for Boston. You two will be finding your first home together, living as the happily married couple while you become a world renowned Micro Biologist at Harvard and he becomes the best forward in the world playing hockey for the Terriers at Boston University. And both of you on full scholarships!"

"Don't forget us," Pam smiled. "While they find an apartment to play happy families in, we check out the dorms. Cause I am so going to make an awesome Boston 'U' Sociology Major."

"And me studying Music at the Boston University College of Fine Arts. Assuming I pass these auditions I have to take this summer."

"Are you sure you'll be okay with the dorms?" Liz turned to her friend. "I mean, we could just as easily rent a place for the four of us, you know."

"Are you kidding?" Pam shook her head. "Absolutely not! Hey, I want my independence, here. I plan on having a love life, too, you know."

"Ditto, kid," Maria smirked. "You two are the only virgins left in the senior year. You do know that, right?"

"Hold still while I finish off your French Plait," Pam fussed with Liz's hair. "Hey, that's kind of appropriate, don't you think? French Plait, French Honeymoon."

"You are so lucky having a Grandma like Grandma Claudia," Maria shook her head. "I mean, who else has a grandma who pays for her granddaughter and her new husband to fly all the way to Paris, France, and stay in a five star hotel for two whole weeks, 'and' gives them a credit card to use while they're there."

"She spent a couple of years there when she was young," Liz's eyes went distant. "Just after the war, I think. She says that everyone should spend time in Paris with the one they love. It's not the Romantic Capital of the world for nothing."

"There," Pam announced. "All done. And can I say how strange it is seeing you not in a pony tail?"

"Can I say," Maria laughed, "how strange it is seeing you in a dress! When he proposed to you, Pam and I joked that you would get married in a pair of white jeans."

"I don't always wear jeans," Liz rolled her eyes. "I've worn a dress before."

"Wearing your white dress for your Confirmation when you were eight years old does not count, Elizabeth Parker," Maria smirked. "You even wore a pants suit to the prom."

"I couldn't find a dress I liked," Liz shrugged. "At least I didn't wear Jeans. What can I say? I feel more comfortable in jeans."


"So, your big day has come at last, huh?" Pam sighed.

"Yeah," Liz nodded, checking her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was a full skirted, high bodice affair. It was covered with layers of lace. "My wedding day. I've been waiting for this day ever since we started dating our freshman year. But I've been crushing on him like, since forever."

"He's been waiting for this day, too, babe," Maria winked. "I can't believe that you made the hottest guy in school wait this long to get your cherry. I mean, I'm assuming you did make him wait, after all. You are still a virgin, right?"

"Of course," Liz looked offended that she should be anything other. "And I am proud of it. He never got past first base, not that he never stopped trying. Well, okay, he sometimes like, fondled me. But only over my sweater. 'Cause it's like I told him. If he loves me, he will wait. And so tonight, on our special night, we get to take each other's virginity in our wedding bed."

"That must be the most romantic thing," Maria sighed. "And so unheard of in this day and age."

"No it's not, Maria," Liz shook her head. "All kinds of kids our age do it. I even wanted him to sign a pledge with me, but he said that we didn't need to sign a piece of paper to prove we had willpower."

"He really must love you, babe," Pam smirked. "'Cause he must have the biggest case of blue balls in history." She paused what she was doing and looked at Liz. She gave a teasing smile. "Well? Did you do it?"

"Do what?" Maria frowned.

"Uh," Liz started to blush. "Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Pam smirked as she reached for the hem of Liz's dress. "Are you going to prove it?"

"Uhm, you know what?" Liz shook her head, she held the dress down, in case Pam wasn't joking. "I don't think so. But I promise. I did it, okay?"

"Prove what?" Maria looked confused.

"Are you sure he won't think it, well, slutty?" Liz looked concerned. "I wouldn't want him thinking..."

"As head cheerleader, trust me, okay?" Pam winked. "Guys flip over things like that. When he sees you tonight, the poor boy's going to cream his pants on the spot."

"Liz, what did you do?" Maria was annoyed at being kept out of the loop.

Liz couldn't answer, she just burned red.

"She, uh... shaved," Pam chuckled. "And not just her legs."

"Oh," Maria nodded her with eyes widened in understanding. She gave a wicked little smile. "You little devil, you."

"You know, I don't want him to... I mean," Liz stammered. "I mean, not too quickly."

"Don't worry," Pam started to laugh. "He's young, he's an athlete and he's a guy. He's bound to be 'up' for it more than once tonight. Especially when he sees you like that. And if he does shoot too early the first time, at least he can slow down the next."

Pamela winked at her.


"I hope we'll be seeing lots of you in Boston," Liz fell a little sad. "You too Maria. Please don't be strangers, huh?"

"You can count on seeing a lot of me," Pam grinned. "You know I love you, right?"

"We've been best buds forever," Maria promised. "Just cause you being married and all won't keep me away from my regular ice cream and bitch sessions."

"Is everybody decent?" a man's voice called from the door. "The photographer's here."

"Just coming, Dad," Liz smiled at her two friends. "Ready?"


With her bridesmaids wearing traditional pink off the shoulder dresses, Liz followed them down stairs and into the living room.

"Oh, honey," her Mom fought back her tears and embraced her little girl. "You look so beautiful."

"As always," her father smiled, giving his only daughter a hug.

"You girls did a great job on her," Nancy Parker smiled at Pam and Maria. "And you girls look lovely yourselves. I'm so glad that Liz has such good and loyal friends as you."

The photographer took a lot of pictures, concentrating mainly on the Bride with Bride's mother and then with the bridesmaids. When he had finished with them, they gave each other hugs and kisses before they went out to the car that would take them to church. The photographer took a few more of Liz and her father, Jeff Parker, and then left to make sure he was at the church before they were.

"This is it," Jeff smiled. "My little girl is all grown up now. I'm so proud of you, Liz. You have been the perfect daughter."

"Thank you, Dad," Liz smiled. "And you've been the perfect father."

"He's a fine man, Liz," Jeff nodded. "Very honorable. And I can see that he loves you."

"Yeah," Liz started to melt. "And I really love him too. And I know he totally loves me. I just... I can hardly believe this. I keep on waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? I keep on thinking that any moment now I'm going to wake up and find I'm still a freshman and he doesn't even notice me, let alone want to ask me out."

"I hope that when you're married and living in Boston, you won't forget your old man."

"Daddy, don't!" Liz fought back the tears with a smile. "If I cry now, there's no one left to fix my make up and I really don't think you know how to use an eye liner pencil."


* * *


With her heart in her throat and a thousand butterflies in her stomach, Liz stood in the small room, waiting for her cue. One by one, the Bride's mother, the groomsmen and the bridesmaids all left and walked up the aisle to the altar. Her little flower girl, Carla, a girl she used to baby-sit, started her journey, sprinkling pink rose petals up the aisle. When she caught sight of her mom and dad in the pews, she gave up her task and rushed to join them.

"Ready?" Jeff smiled, chuckling at the little girl's antics.

"Yeah," Liz nodded, taking a deep breath.

"It's not too late," he grinned. "We could turn around and leave and no one would know. Like Julia Roberts. I even have your running shoes handy."

"Dad!" Liz sounded horrified at the thought.

"Stopped you from feeling so scared though, didn't it?"


* * *


She saw his face when he first caught sight of her. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Their eyes locked together as she allowed her father to guide her to the altar where the minister in his dress robes was waiting.

'Hi,' he mouthed to her.

'Hey,' she silently replied.

'You look beautiful.'

'Thank you.'


When they reached their destination and stopped, the minister gave his blessing and the ceremony started. It was not until the minister spoke directly to them that Liz realized that it was time for them to play their parts.

"Do you, Kyle James Valenti, take Elizabeth Claudia Parker to be your lawfully wedded wife..." the minister intoned to the end of the well-known phrase, adding in the loving and honoring.

"I do," Kyle smiled at Liz.

"And do you, Elizabeth Claudia Parker, take Kyle James Valenti..." he completed Liz's section, including the old fashioned, traditional 'obey'.

"I do," she nodded back her soon to be husband.

The ceremony continued. There were more words to say; hymns and prayers. At long last, the minister raised a hand.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.

Married they might be, but when Kyle moved in for his kiss, trying to push his tongue past her lips, Liz was too embarrassed to allow such a kiss in public, let alone a church.

"What God has joined together," the minister intoned over the top of the congregation's titters, "let no man put asunder. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Kyle Valenti."

To a standing ovation, and with the bridal music belting from the organ, Kyle led his young, brand new wife back up the aisle. Outside the church, it was a mad dance of picture taking, hand shaking, back slapping, hugging and kissing jubilation. Kyle had the biggest grin on his face as he circulated amongst his friends and family. Someone from his posse of friends had handed him a bottle of beer. Liz, too was smiling broadly.

"Boston is going to be such a hoot!" Kyle called out to his friends, raising his bottle in salute. "One long party!"

His jock buddies all cheered, waving their bottles of beer in the air. Even though they were not yet old enough to drink, no one seemed to begrudge the young men this piece of horseplay.

Kyle and Liz ran through a shower of rice and dived for cover into the Limousine. As the car pulled away, heading to the large hotel where the Wedding Breakfast was being held, Kyle pulled his wife to him.

"Mrs. Valenti," he grinned before placing a solid kiss on her lips.

Immediately, his hands were at the hem of her dress, trying to fight past the layers of lace.

"You'll have to wait," Liz giggled, twisting away from him. "If you think I'm doing anything anywhere there's the remotest chance of being caught, guess again. Besides, I don't want to spoil your surprise."

Kyle face went from the sullen pout of rejection to a huge grin.

"Really? You have a surprise for me?"

"Uh huh," her eyes sparkled.


The Limo arrived at the hotel, moments before the rest of the main members of the wedding party. The Hotel's maitre d' lined them all up so that they could greet their guests. As they filed in, said their congratulations, they took a small glass of wine from a waitress and moved into the large room. At last, everyone was finished, and seated at the dining tables. Getting married was hard work!

After the dinner came the speeches. The father of the bride said his, complimenting the wonderful job the bridesmaids had done for Liz, and especially thanking Pam for all her hard efforts. He then gave a few anecdotes about Liz's childhood and complimented her choice of husband. His toast thanked Kyle for honoring his daughter, and for loving her and then he welcomed him to the family. Kyle's best man Paul Davies, one of Kyle's best sporting buddies, thanked Jeff for the compliments on behalf of the bridesmaids, and then told a few amusing tales of things they had got up to.

"As you know," he continued. "Kyle just got married. Not to just anyone, oh no. He just married one of the loveliest, luckiest young ladies I know. Forsaking all others, the minister said. And Kyle promised. We all heard him, right?"

"Hell yeah," his inebriated friends called from their table, eliciting loud guffaws and chortles.

"So I want all of you ladies out there who still have a key to Kyle's place to come up and hand them in, now."

The laughter was long and loud as a steady stream of girls approached him and handed him a key. Kyle hooted with laughter while Liz groaned in embarrassment. The laughter reached its loudest point when Paul's seventy-six year old grandmother hobbled up on her walking stick, handed Paul a key and winked at Kyle.

"Thanks Paul," Kyle shook his head, hiding his face with his hands. "Really, thanks."


With the dinner plates cleared away, the band started to play. Maria climbed up on stage to join them. As they played an intro to a song, Maria called for the happy couple to take the floor. As they moved to the middle of the dance floor, and swayed to the intro, Maria started to sing.


I know your eyes in the morning sun
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain
And the moment that you wander far from me
I wanna feel you in my arms again

And you come to me on a summer breeze
Keep me warm in your love and then softly leave
And it's me you need to show

How deep is your love
I really need to learn
'cause we're living in a world of fools
Breaking us down
When they all should let us be
We belong to you and me

I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You're the light in my deepest darkest hour
You're my savior when I fall
And you may not think
I care for you
When you know down inside
That I really do
And it's me you need to show

How deep is your love
I really need to learn
'cause we're living in a world of fools
Breaking us down
When they all should let us be
We belong to you and me


"Happy?" Kyle smiled down at her, a little unsteady on his feet.

"I have never been more happy in all my life," she purred, pushing herself against Kyle's chest.


* * *


It was much later now. More people had come to join in with the festivities. Friends who had not been invited to the earlier feast were coming to pay their congratulations at the evening festivities. They found Liz dancing with her father.

"Where's Kyle?" they invariably asked.

"They're watching the game in the sports bar," Liz pointed at another doorway. "Phoenix are playing and if they win tonight, they're in the Stanley Cup."

Groans and jeers from the sports bar suggested that Phoenix had just conceded a goal. As more guests arrived, the guys usually made their way to the bar while girls spoke with Liz before going to find their other friends.


There was a loud, noisy commotion in the lobby. A girl was screaming and yelling. Liz, accompanied by her father, her mother and Maria hurried to see what was going on.

"Where is he?" a loud voice demanded.

"Vicki?" Liz recognized the young woman who stormed into the lobby with a face like thunder.

Vicki Delaney had gone to their high school once. She had left half way through their sophomore year. At the time, Liz had hated her, as she had been openly trying to seduce Kyle away from her. She had a young toddler in tow, a young boy with a dark mop of wavy hair. He reminded her of someone. Vicki's eyes moved around the room, and spotting the girl in the wedding dress, marched right up to her.

"You married him," she spat at Liz. "You can have his kid. The fucking lying bastard don't pay me near enough to keep us both."

Leaving the Valenti family's 'skeleton' behind, and most clearly out of the cupboard, the angry Vicki Delaney left the hotel. The toddler was crying.


"What's going on, Liz?" her Mom asked.

"Vicki more or less said that Kyle was the kid's father," Maria pointed out.

"We don't know that for a fact," Jeff raised his hand. Even though he was showing a tolerance toward the situation, inside, he was seething. "That girl could have been lying."

"Take a look at him, Mr. P.," Maria suggested. "That there is a Kyle Jr. if ever I saw one."

"I think you should have a word with him, hun," Jeff frowned. "We'll find Jim and see if he can shed any light on the matter. Besides, we need to arrange somewhere for this poor little guy to stay tonight. Liz, you go on up to your room and wait. Maria, find Pam, and then the two of you look for Kyle. Send him up to their room, and keep everyone else away. Looks like these two need to talk."


* * *


The card let her into the suite they had rented for the night. Her eyes widened when she saw that they had both a living room, and a separate bedroom. Heading for the bedroom door, Liz suddenly froze. She had just heard voices in there.

A girl's voice let off a long, low moan and then she suddenly squealed.

"No, not there. Do it properly." Was that Pam's voice? "I need it so bad. It's been three days since you last fucked me."

"Come on babe," a man's voice whined. "You know I like it up there. It feels nice and tight."

Was that Kyle's voice? Liz started to feel sick.

"Oh yes!" Pam hissed. "That's better. Ahhhhhhh, oh my god! Faster!"

"I've had blue balls all day," Kyle groaned. "You are just what the doctor ordered. Christ, you are wet!"

Like a moth drawn to the flame, Liz walked as quiet as a mouse to the doorway, noting that the door was not fully closed. Wishing she could block out the noise that the other two were making, Liz peered through the gap. Through a reflection in the mirror, she could see Pam, on her hands and knees, her dress pushed up over her back while Kyle, with his pants around his ankles was thrusting his hips in and out. The angle of her vision could not allow her to imagine she was seeing them pretending. She could see his manhood pushing into the tramp's core. Her husband of only a few hours was in the middle of fucking her so called best friend. She turned away from the sickening scene and leaned against the wall, letting her tears fall. She felt as though she might vomit.

"Oh, yeah," Kyle called. "Nearly there."

"Yes," Pam cried. "Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Ooooohhhhh!"

The cheating couple came together, leaving Liz with tears streaming from her eyes and her heart in a million pieces. She would just about die if they caught her there. She was about to leave when Pam spoke.


"Maybe Liz will let you fuck her up the ass, tonight," she giggled.

"Liz?" Kyle laughed. "Take it up the ass? Perfect Parker? Not a chance. You know as well as I do that she's going to turn out to be a prim and proper frigid bitch and probably only put out for me once a week. That's why I gotta have a hot mamma like you on the side."

"As long as you give it to me good," Pam sighed. "I don't understand why you married her, let alone dated her."

"Economics," Kyle smirked. "Between training, playing and partying, I'm not going to have much time to work. And I need a pad for my buddies to crash when they come to visit me. Liz's family is loaded, and she's so noble, she'll go out and get a job to make sure our bills are all paid. I kind of like the idea of being a kept man. But as soon as I get drafted... hasta la vista baby. Before I start pulling down the big bucks."

"And in the meantime, stud, you have little ol' me to keep your cock warm at night."

"And I know just where to put it to keep it warm," he chuckled. "Make sure you find a place close to the stadium, yeah? I'll just tell Liz practice goes on longer than it does. Not sure what we'll do off-season, though. Extra training, probably."

"I can't believe the mousy doofus still thinks you're a virgin" Pam laughed. "Shit, we've been fucking since you seduced me after your first date with her when we were frosh."

Liz closed her eyes, the betrayal cutting right through her.

"What do you mean?" Kyle grunted. "You seduced me."

"Who cares," Pam laughed. "We still got what we wanted."

Pam started to laugh and from the sounds of the bed bouncing, they were either playing around with one another, or they were getting ready for round two.

Liz took the opportunity to leave under the cover of their noise. A sea of tears blurred her vision. As she opened the door, she found Maria just about to knock.

"What's wrong?" Maria instantly grasped that Liz was really upset.

"Oh, Maria," she whined. "Get me out of here."


Her father and mother were standing in the lobby when Liz bowled out from the elevator.

"Liz?" Jeff frowned.

"Daddy!" Liz wailed like a little girl and stumbled into her father's arms.

"What's the matter?" Jeff looked at Maria for answers. Liz was too hysterical to talk.

"She just found Kyle in their room," Maria shrugged.

"Ah," Jeff nodded. "Jim already confessed the kid was Kyle's."

"They never got to talk about that," Maria shook her head. "It seems Liz found Kyle plowing another furrow. And this one goes under the name of best friend."

The silence was deafening. Jeff's face turned from shock to outrage. Had he not had his arms filled with his distressed daughter, he would be making his way to the suite upstairs. She seemed to sense his desires.

"Can we just go home?" she begged, hiccuping through her hysteria. "I... I re...really nee... need to get away from this pla... place."


* * *

Hi Everyone,

Well, I can see I caused quite a sensation making Kyle a bad guy for a change. And I guess you were all shocked that Liz was marrying him. LOL. Well, all's well that ends well.

Thats the mundane intros out of the way, The real story starts here.

Wow. I had 4 pages of feedback to wade through! I regret starting this personal response lark now! Kidding. Your feedback is so important to me. Without it, I would not be here. So thank you very much for responding and letting me know what you think.




AJK001 - Ah! But did you get your wish? Your wish was that it wasn;t Max who appeared to have abandoned her in Paris.

Erina258 - One of my Beta team suggested I end chapter 1 there.

txndreamer06 - Well, as early as I could, here I am with more!

maya - Well... there is a gap of two weeks between the prologue and chapter 1. A lot can happen in between.

omwf - Well... I'm sure she 'could' get a divorce. But would she want one? BTW - I have written Pam 'nice' before. In BRH. And didnlt she say nice things about Liz in Part 1 of Red Shift?

Heavenli24 - Well... what chance do you think Kyle has of going to Paris?

cocopucks - Thank you

sylvia37 - Well... the rest will slowly unfold. And what an unfolding!

begonia9508 - Well... It's his honeymoon too! Maybe he will stil make it to Paris!

Roswell 10/2/00 - Glad I got the reactions I hoped for

lazza - I hope I can replace those bad visuals with some good ones... coming right up

Jbehrbabe - Uhm... Oh my. I hope you will continue to read anyway. I'm afraid that your 'dilikes' are rather central to the whole storyline and plot. Hope I continue to recieve your feedback.

Ellie - Somehow, I think that Liz will not really have taking Kyle to the cleaners on her mind.

Natz - Well... If that 'hit' was painfull, I have the perfect balm coming up. Soothing.

smokie - I'm so glad that you changed your mind and decided that you would trust in me. You know I would hate to lose one of my longstanding fans from what I believe is a story you will love. wb

vampyrax - You were 'supposed' to assume Max. Which is why I never mentioned his name. So job well done

Emz80m - Or is that Kyle nd Pam really screwed.

Mica - Ah, but the more interesting parts are yet to come! Pun intended. Yuk yuk yuk. Oh. Stay clear of most of my stories till the holidays then. I would hate to be the reason for a college failure. Some of them (ie - Blue Remembered Hills) are a bit on the long side.

POM - Well... maybe she WAS good friends once, till Liz got something Pam wanted... and took.

Thanette - Thank you.

dreamer destiny - Well... be glad they did, else the rest of the story would be no where near as sweet.

MamaDee52 - Well, welcome from the woodwork, Dee. Nice to see you again. Hope to see more of you now you have come into the light again. LOL

mmcheron - Well, I'm sure an anullment will be possible (actually, they are difficult to obtain, I checked) but maybe Liz won't want that. Time will tell.

Ash_maxliz - Well, being with Max in Paris would be a good guess, considering the title, and the banner and all.

frenchkiss70 - Yeah, you're pretty much close with the storyline. Kind of obvious, really. But how it ends... you're a little off the track.

alienmom - So who has to be ladylike? Since when did that really matter?

BelevnDreamsToo - I hope to get more parts to you soon. But I'm glad that you're enjoying it... again.

Michelle in Yonkers - Sue Kyle and destroy his life? I kind of imagine Liz to be above that kind of thing. Especially if she has the time of her life in Paris. Maria has a good phrase for it.

BehrObsession - Well... I kind of think the object of this story is to see how M&L turn out, not K&P. But we'll see

Alien614 - Max as a knight in shining armor, perhaps a descendant of Charlemaine.

anonymousarfan - Yup. He's sure something.

Jason's Lover - Go on, tell us how you really feel! I had to make sure that no one held sympathy for Kyle when what happens next happens.

abbs007 - Yeah, pretty safe bet that it's Max Liz was thinking about in the prologue.

roswellluver - Thank you

BordersInsanity - heh heh heh heh. You guys are painting me to be a right little stinker! I'm not THAT bad, am I? Hey! Do you realize, I have posted two chapters without a cliffhanger in sight AND no one has called me a name yet!

mareli - Well... Jeff's first concern is Liz. I'm sure somewhere doen the line, Kyle will get his comeuppance. For a start, he no longer has Liz to pay his way through college parties!

Smac - I'm sure that Liz will have her mind taken off her problems. Maybe Max might help?

cherie - Well... look at it as the last HARD chapter to read. The rest will be fluff sailing.

Bixie - Max comes into this quite soon. And with a bang.

Phew. Made it. If I missed you, please accept my apologies, and pleas pm me and let me know so I can fix it.

Okay....



A SPECIAL NOTE From this point on, a special thanks goes to my third member of my Beta team who wishes to remain anonymous. She kindly agreed to double check my French and correct anything I had wrong. Which was pretty much all of it. So, thank you very much, M.



Running Authors Note. When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!




Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 2 - An American In Paris


Saturday - July 2nd

They sat around the table in the corner of Starbucks at the Albuquerque International Airport. All four of them were quiet, staring at their cups of coffee that no one seemed to be drinking.

"This isn't how I imagined my sendoff," Liz broke the silence, brushing away a tear and wiping her hand on her jeans.

"Oh, honey," her Mom frowned for the hundredth time. "Do you really think it's a good idea for you to go off to Paris by yourself? I mean... you won't know anyone there, and if you start to feel really..."

"I'll be fine, Mom," Liz nodded. "I'll have my cell phone, it's been set up so I can call you guys, and you can call me. Oh, you have my new number, right? 'Cause I really don't want to speak to Kyle just now. I need to be alone for a while. And I have to get away. I can't stand everyone pointing and laughing at me. I mean, almost everyone knew about Kyle and Pam."

"I didn't," Maria's face was filled with sadness.

"I know," Liz nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. "And I know you would have told me if you had."

"I don't see why you can't take your Mom, Liz," Jeff leaned forward. "Or Maria. I mean, you have a double room, you have two plane tickets."

"I would love to go, Mr. P.," Maria interrupted. "And if my whole future didn't depend on those compositions I have to write before the end of July for my auditions, then I would be on that plane so fast, I'd break light speed. But I have too much work to do. Sorry."

"I couldn't take Mom away from you, Dad." She took a deep breath. "This is something I have to do by myself, okay? I think they call it 'finding yourself'."

"You were betrayed big time, Liz," her mother continued. "And to get over things like that, you need your friends and family around you."

"I'll be fine, Mom," Liz reiterated.


"Speaking of fine," Maria giggled. "Guess who's been calling me on the phone every half hour?"

"Kyle?" Jeff Parker looked up.

"Yep," she nodded. "You know. Tell Liz it was a mistake. Tell Liz I love her. It was the drink. All that crap. Oh, and Pam called me to see how you were. She tried to make out that Kyle had slipped something in her drink."

"He keeps calling us, too," Jeff nodded. "Asking to talk to Liz. I've told him that she's going to stay with her Grandmother for the summer while she thinks things through."

"You'll have to deal with him sooner or later," her Mom whispered.

"I think she's opting for the later," Maria nodded.

"That's why I need to get clear away, by myself," Liz looked up at the overhead monitor that displayed the departures. "I need to decide if I'm going to forgive him, or what. I mean... we're married now."

"Is that why you've left your rings on?" Jeff looked at the band of gold around her finger, next to the large engagement ring. "Do you think you will move past this?"

Liz lifted up her hand and extended her fingers, looking at the rings. With a deep sigh, she pulled them off and handed them to her father.

"Keep them safe until I get back," she rubbed the empty space they had left behind.

An announcement came over the airport's intercom.

"Would all passengers for flight AA762 to Chicago, O'Hare please make their way to gate sixty three where your flight is now boarding."

"Well, I guess this is it," Liz rose and picked up her hand luggage. "Flight to the windy city and then on to Paris." If it was supposed to sound funny, it never came out that way.

"Are you sure about this?" Maria pulled her into a hug.

"Yeah," Liz was trying to be upbeat, but it hadn't worked. She had looked and sounded miserable all morning. "And besides, everything is already paid for. It would be such a waste to let it go like that. I need to be alone while I try to put my life back together, and where better than Paris?"

"Well," Maria nodded. "We're only a call away right? And whatever you do, don't you dare think that any of this was your fault."

"Okay," Liz gave her friend another hug and a kiss. "I won't."

She hugged and kissed her parents and left them, watching her go.


* * *


After giving a final, sad wave, Liz handed her passport to the security officer and placed her hand luggage on the conveyor belt for the X-ray. She wiped away some more tears of sadness, but new ones of loneliness had appeared as she picked up the bags and followed the signs for gate sixty-three. She stood in line, handed the boarding card to the flight attendant and stepped onto the huge aircraft, the first one that Liz had ever been on. She followed the aisle, noting the direction the letters ran. She soon found her seat, J3. Liz had asked for an aisle seat, so that she would not have to disturb anyone if she needed to get up or down. She also used the spare ticket to make sure that no one sat next to her. She had two seats to spread into. She hoped that the flight would be okay. With a change in Chicago, the flight would last almost sixteen hours, arriving in Paris at around nine thirty, tomorrow morning. It had just turned noon, now. Her grandma had advised her to try to sleep as much as she could. Seeing as she had no sleep last night, and not for the reasons she had hoped, that wouldn't be too difficult. Especially with the herbal sleeping draft her grandma's friend, the Native American medicine man had sent her. She should sleep from Chicago all the way through to Paris, waking up tomorrow morning just in time to land. She would be ready to face a day of... loneliness. What on Earth had she been thinking, going to a strange city in a strange country whose language she didn't speak? Hiding her eyes with a sleep mask, Liz started to cry again.


* * *


Standing on the viewing platform at the top of the airport terminal, three people watched the huge plane lumber out toward the runway. It moved all the way to one side of the vast complex and then turned, aligning itself. It started slowly but quickly accelerated to a great speed. Beyond all comprehension, the hulking great metal bird lifted into the air. It started to climb at a sharp angle and banked into some clouds, reappearing moments later as a much smaller speck, high in the sky.

"Oh, Jeff," Nancy whimpered. "I'm so afraid for her. She's so vulnerable right now. She's going to be alone for two weeks and she's heart broken."

"I know," Jeff wrapped an arm around Nancy's shoulder. "But she was pretty adamant. She's not a little girl any more. In September, she'll be moving to Boston... and if they don't work things out, she'll be alone."

"No she won't," Maria shook her head. "She'll have me there with her. That's why I'm doing these extra courses."

"You're a good friend, Maria," Jeff nodded. "And I do believe that Liz really does need this. She needs to discover who she really is. And she can only do that on her own." He released a heavy sigh. "Come on. We better get back. The Valentis are coming around so that we can try and find a way through this mess. See if there's anything worth salvaging."

"Salvaging?" Maria snorted. "She walked in on her husband of less than a few hours, banging her best friend and chief bridesmaid on the bridal bed. What's to salvage?"

"Like it or not," he shrugged. "She's married to him now. It will be ultimately up to Liz, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to hear what that boy has to say for himself. I thought so much better of him, too. God knows how he's ever going to get Liz to forgive him."

"I hope she meets a gorgeous Frenchman," Maria rolled her eyes. "One who teaches her the true meaning of love... and loves her socks off."

"Maria!" Nancy gasped.

"What?" she smirked. "She's a married woman now, not some wet behind the ears schoolgirl. An affair in Paris could be just what she needs."


* * *


Sunday - July 3rd

The sleeping potion that she had taken when she left Chicago had done the trick, Liz had slept like a baby right through the rest of that day and through the night. She felt refreshed and couldn't wait to be up and about. River Dog sure made good medicine.

The landing had been every bit as terrifying as the one in Chicago had been, as well as both times that they took off. Liz had hated all of them. When at last, the violent shaking had stopped, and the plane was moving easily along the concrete of the runway, Liz couldn't help feeling a little excited, in spite of herself.

The doors opened and Liz collected her belongings and followed the passengers from the plane.

"Good bye," the attendant smiled. "Enjoy your stay and we hope you enjoyed your flight."

When Liz stepped off of the platform and into the airport terminal, she was dismayed that her excitement had faded. She felt no different at being in a different country. She was in Paris, France! She only felt a bitter sadness. She should have been here with her new husband. Her spirits dropped. After showing her passport to the stern looking Gendarme whom she half hoped would send her home, she collected her suitcase from the baggage claim and walked through the green channel into the arrival hall of Charles De Gaulle airport.

There was no need of her pocket French phrase book. The big signs indicated exactly where she should go. Taxi was spelt the same in any language.

"Can you take me to the Hotel duh view-ex Paris, please?" she spoke in a slow, loud voice, the universal method of talking to people whose language you don't speak.

"L'Hôtel du Vieux Paris?" he nodded as he placed her luggage into the trunk. "Oui, Mademoiselle."

The taxi seemed to drive for ages before at last, it reached the outer suburbs of Paris. As they drove deeper into the city, she could just make out the tops of some famous building that she had read about in her guide book. The top of the Eiffel Tower was easy, as were the domes of the Sacré Coeur, but others she just didn't recognize yet. When she passed a building she had seen a few moments ago, she started to suspect that her driver was taking the long way around. She wished she spoke French.

At last, the taxi pulled up in the small courtyard of a very elegant building.

"Nous voici, Mademoiselle," the driver turned to face her. "L'Hôtel du Vieux Paris. Cela vous fera cinquante-six Euros, s'il vous plaît."

"Uhm...." Liz looked puzzled. "Excuse me, I..." What was that phrase about not speaking French?

Understanding anyway, the driver pointed to his meter. A big red 56 was flickering back at her. Not really knowing how much to tip, or how much fifty-six Euros was in dollars, she handed the driver sixty Euros, hoping that the tip was acceptable. When she stepped out of the car, all she could do was stand and gape. Everything was so elegant. And so old! Roswell hadn't even seen a white man when this building was erected. In fact, she doubted America had even been discovered yet. She could almost feel the history. By the time she was ready to pick up her bag, a young man had appeared from the hotel and had already picked it up.

"Uhm," Liz blinked. "Merci."


The bell-boy placed her case down by the front desk, nodded his head at her and scurried away to the main door. She wondered if she should have tipped him.

"Bonjour," the middle aged man behind the desk sang.

"Hello," Liz reached into her purse. "I uh, have a room booked. In uh, the name of Valenti."

"Naturellement," he nodded, placing his finger on an entry in his ledger. "May I see your passport, please?"

"Oh, right," she took her passport and gave it to the man, along with her confirmation.

The man turned to a photocopier behind him and copied the relevant pages. He then looked at the confirmation.

"Excusez-moi," he frowned. "This booking, it is made in the name of Valenti. But your passport says you are Miss Parker." He looked up hoping for an explanation.

"Oh," she squeezed her eyes, fighting back the tears and composed herself. "I uh... Just got married. Uhm, yesterday."

"Félicitations," he smiled. "And your husband? Where is he?" He looked to the door. "Perhaps he comes later, no?"

"No," Liz shook her head. "He uhm... He won't be joining me. Someone... something came up."

"Uh, but Madame," he couldn't comprehend this. "You come away without your husband when you have only just married him? Comme c'est XXIème siècle."

"That's what I said," Liz murmured to herself, wishing she knew what that had meant.

"Your room is all paid for, Madame," he nodded. "It is on the top floor, one of our best. Gilles will bring your bag. Have a nice stay in Paris."

"Uhm, thank you," she nodded. "Do I uh, tip the guy when he comes up?"

"It is discretionary, Madame," he nodded. "But, alas, expected. However, if I were you, I would wait until it is time to be going home and make for him one big tip instead of the lots of little ones, no?"

"He'll understand?" Liz looked a little concerned that she might be given bad service.

"I will tell him."

"Thank you," Liz turned and headed for the modern looking elevator.

The Concierge snapped his fingers and motioned Gilles to approach.

"Take the young lady's bags to room 1018," he handed him a key. "She is staying a while, so she'll leave you a tip when she leaves, so don't hassle her for one."

"She's staying in 1018 alone?" he looked surprised.

"She's just married, yesterday," the concierge waved a hand in the air.

"So where is her husband?" he considered. "Why is he not here by her side?"

"Who knows with these Americans?" he shrugged. "Always with the new fads. Perhaps he watches sports and she visits cultural cities."

The elevator moved slower than any she had ever been in. It seemed to take forever to rise up the ten floors. Liz thought that it might be quicker to use the stairs in the future. Gilles just stood and gave a tuneless whistle through his teeth, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as he watched the numbers light up and darken. The doors did open, eventually, and she stepped out into a corridor that ran left to right. She followed Gilles and her suitcase as he turned right and walked to the far end. He stopped at her room, number 1018. Tenth floor, room eighteen, she surmised. He used the key to open the door and he stepped in. She followed him, sucking in her breath. Her room was large and sumptuous. The bed looked huge and she knew that she would be feeling more than lonely in it. She would feel lost. Along one wall ran some wardrobes and dressers. There was a space that acted as a desk. She had a TV, and a small area with a kettle, some cups and an assortment of tea and coffee. She even had a little mini bar. There was even a small sofa and an easy chair, a table and a pair of dining chairs.

Her bathroom was equally as huge. It didn't have a bathtub, but a walk in shower cubicle instead. It was huge, over six feet in length and three feet wide. There were no curtains, or hinged doors, but a couple of fixed clear panels that overlapped to prevent spray from leaving the cubicle while allowing access. Next to a wide shelf, the showerhead was slotted into a holder with a flexible hose that could be lifted down and used in the hand, reaching across to the far end. Beneath the showerhead was a bench, a little over a foot high, with a rounded edge, ideal for sitting down on and just allowing the water to cascade over her. The floor and the walls were finished with large tiles, white with a hint of peach. The tiles on the floor looked a little less shiny, hinting at the anti-slip coating. Everything was bright and clean. All this space, she thought, and all alone.

Gilles placed her suitcase on the bed and went to the curtains, pulling them open. Along the front end of the room, opposite the door, windows looked out across over the tops of other building. In the distance, she could see the Eiffel tower, and, she guessed, to its right, the top of the Arc D'Triumph. Further to the right, the white domes of the Sacre Coeur. On the right hand wall, the wide windows were actually a set of double doors. Gilles threw back the curtains, pulled opened the doors that led onto a small balcony, fenced in with wrought iron railings. It was big enough to hold a table and two sturdy chairs. The perfect place to sit and read, she decided. But it was not the balcony that really impressed her. Right in front of her eyes, the River Seine floated by, separating her from the Ile-de-la-Cite. Across the river, and behind the huge plaza, was the spectacular Notre Dame cathedral.

"Awesome!" she gasped.

"Est-ce que ce sera tout, Madame?" Gilles called from the room.

She went back in.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Fini?" he held his hands in an open question.

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "Thank you."

"Bienvenue," he nodded, backing out of the room. "Au revoir."


* * *


It had gone well past lunch time, and having had nothing to eat since she left Chicago, seeing that she had slept through the whole flight to France, Liz was hungry. Picking up her purse and her key, she left her room. She hesitated at the lifts and opted to use the stairs. Liz was worn out by the time she reached the ground floor. She wouldn't do that again in a hurry. Neither would she use them to go up.

Turning right as she left the hotel, and then right again, she found herself on the street that ran along the bank of the Seine. She spotted a pavement café and feeling the rumble in her stomach, she sat down at one of the small tables. Liz looked around, overwhelmed at what she was seeing. This would have been so romantic if Kyle had been with her. Fighting back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill, she picked up the menu, looking at the words that meant absolutely nothing to her. What the heck was a sandwich au jambon? A sandwich with jam on? Or a sandwich à fromage? She did not want to end up with something she had never tasted before, like snails or frogs legs, or worse, something she had never even heard of.

Not for the first time, she again wondered what she was doing here. When the waiter arrived, she saw that there was café on the menu. That was easy, she thought.

"Café," she ordered, holding up her index finger to signal one.

He nodded and walked off, while Liz tried again to decipher something, anything from the menu. Meanwhile, her coffee arrived, along with a glass of water. She raised her eyebrows at the size of the cup. It was tiny. Shrugging, she picked up the cup and took a sip. Because her parents had raised her with manners, Liz resisted the temptation to spit the coffee out. It was vile! Liz reached for the glass of water, and gulped deeply to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. She was positive that she could stand her spoon up in that coffee. Either that or it would dissolve it.

She couldn't even read a menu! It was the last straw. What was she doing here? The tears flowed. Needing help, Liz reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She pressed the speed dial button and waited for Maria to answer.

"Hello?" a very sleepy Maria answered.

"I want to come home," Liz bawled into the phone, the sound of a friendly voice breaking her.

"Liz?" Maria seemed more alert. "Liz, Chica. Are you all right?"

"I want to come home, Maria," she wailed. "I hate it here. I don't understand a single word they say, I can't read a freaking menu and the coffee's disgusting. I can't take two weeks of this."

"Oh, honey," Maria's words soothed over the phone. Her friend sounded really upset. "You have to give it time. How long have you been there? Three? Four hours? Find one of those dictionaries that translates French words for you."

"I have one," Liz continued to cry, though her tears were easing now. "I left it in my room."

"Okay, Liz, focus on me, Chica. Okay? Focus on me. Are you focused?"

"Yes," she was still crying.

"Take a deep breath, Liz, count to ten, and tell yourself that you are stronger than this."

"I'm stronger than this," Liz mumbled. "But I still hate it here."

"Well, you know," Maria gave a sigh. "Maybe you should have stayed in your room, until you felt a little more comfortable."

"I was hungry," Liz pouted. "I wanted something to eat, only I don't understand a word on the menu."

"Apart from the language barrier, what's it like?"

"It's actually quite lovely," breakdown over, Liz was starting to compose herself. "My room has this most amazing view. And my room itself is gorgeous."

"Did you have a good flight over?"

"I must have," Liz nodded. "I slept all the way."

"Lucky you," Maria's voice was dry.

"Huh?

"As happy as I am to hear from you, Liz," Maria yawned. "Can you wait a little later to call me next time? It's only five in the morning here."

"Oh," Liz felt bad. "It's one in the afternoon here. Oh, Maria. I'm sorry I got you up."

"It's okay," Maria chuckled. "I had to answer the phone, anyway."

"So how are things..." her heart started to thud in the pit of her stomach. It was hard to talk about him, "You know. With..."

"The Valentis? Oh, it's getting good. Kyle's threatening your dad with legal action unless he tells him where you are. He drove all the way up to your grandma's house and back, yesterday. He knows you're not there. He really wants to talk to you, Liz. He's claiming it was the only time."

"That's not what I heard," Liz bit back the tears of betrayal. "Right now, I really don't want to talk to him."

"I think both sets of parents are hoping it will all blow over and you make a go of it, still," Maria told her. "It's positively disgusting."

"I don't know," Liz shook her head. "I really don't."

"You can't be thinking about forgiving him, Liz," Maria sounded annoyed. "Please tell me you're better than that."

"I just... There's a lot to think about," Liz sighed. "That's all."

"Listen," Maria urged. "I was talking with Jennifer and Jeannine last night, and I just kind of mentioned how awesome it would be to go to Paris, yeah? Well, Jeannine says her brother was there last year and that he used to meet up with a load of Americans who live in Paris at a Place called Chicago Joe's Pizza Factory. It's on the Rue Washington, which is just off the Champs Elysee, right up by the Arc D'Triumph."

"I don't know, Maria," Liz shook her head. "I've really had it with American boys. I don't want to date another American boy for as long as I live. I think that from now on, I'm only going to date mature, foreign men."

"Whatever floats your boat, honey," Maria laughed. "Just make sure you keep taking those birth control pills and make sure he always wears a glove."

"Oh, Maria," Liz frowned. "I don't think..."

"There's nothing wrong in having a little fun, Liz," Maria urged. "And if a little romance will help bring that spark back to the girl I grew up with, then I say, go as far as you're prepared to go and have yourself the time of your life."

"I'll let you get back to your bed now, Maria," Liz sighed. "And I'll try and work out if there's anything edible on this freaking menu, 'cause I'm totally starving. And then I'm going to see if I can find my way around this city."

"Okay, hun," she could sense Maria's smile. "Take care, you."

"You too, Maria, and... Maria? Thanks."

"Any time, babe," Maria sounded sincere. "And I really mean that. Night or day. If you need to talk, I have ice cream standing by in the fridge, and you're dad put a hundred bucks on our phones."

They hung up and with a heavy sigh, Liz picked up her menu again.


"Excuse me," a heavily French accented voice next to her spoke. "I am so sorry to disturb you, but I could not help overhearing you saying that you are not reading the menu. Would you like some assistance, perhaps?"

"Oh," her voice caught in her throat when she looked at the young man sitting at the table next to her.

Butterflies soared in her stomach and her heart pounded in her throat. Liz looked into the eyes of the most ruggedly handsome young man she had ever seen. His hair was dark, very dark, and wavy. He had the most amazing amber colored eyes that she had ever seen. They were looking at her with warmth, and friendship and - Liz shivered - was that desire? His jaw line showed the faint showings of a five o'clock shadow, the fashionable kind. He was wearing black pants and a white open necked shirt. In short, he was gorgeous.

"You speak English?" she finally managed to squeak.

"I do," his smile, like his eyes had captivated her. "And for you, jolie fille, I would translate the bible."

"Oh," Liz giggled, recognizing that he was flirting with her, a feeling that she definitely liked. Feelings welled inside her, such as she had never felt before. "Just translating the menu will be enough, thank you." She couldn't help smiling back at him.

"First things are first," he pointed to the empty chair at her table. "Do you mind?"

"No," she shook her head, her face beaming. "Not at all. Join me, please."

She couldn't help the way her body reacted when he rose from his seat and swung into the chair opposite her. This young man was drop dead gorgeous. Kyle who?

"Would you like another cup of coffee?" he indicated her unfinished drink.

"I'm not all that..." she shook her head and pulled a face. "I didn't like it, actually."

"Gaston," the handsome - scratch that - gorgeous man called. "Can we have two large coffee's with milk?" He turned back to Liz. "In future, you must order a Grande Café au lait. Okay? Either that or always buy your coffee from Starbucks."

"Wow," Liz shook her head with awe. "It must be so great to speak another language like you do. Your English is very good."

"Thank you" he smiled. "In France, the children are studying since they are this high," he held his hand above the ground to indicate small children. "But if you were to live with me in France for a year then perhaps you too would speak like a native."

"Oh, no," she shook her head. The thought was amazing, but she had college. "I don't... I mean..."

"I was joking," he whispered.

"I knew that," she laughed, amazed at the easy way she felt around him.

The waiter arrived with two cups of coffee, coffee like Liz was used to drinking.

"Oh," she smiled. "This looks better. Thank you."

"It is nothing," he waved his hand. "Now. About this menu. You tell me what it is you would like, in English, and I will find the closest item on the menu. And then, I can tell you what everything else is."

"Well, I'd just like a ham sandwich, really," she shrugged. "I'm not all that hungry. I only arrived in Paris this morning, and..."

"Ah, and is this your first time in Paris?" he was beaming.

"Actually," she smiled. "It's my first time anywhere."

"So from where is it you are from?"

"America," Liz nodded.

"The accent I can already hear," he laughed. "But I think that America, she is a big place, no?"

"I uh, come from Roswell," she mumbled, embarrassed of her home town. "New Mexico."

"You should never be ashamed of home," he nodded sagely. "That is the place that has made you as wonderful as you are. But Roswell, I know of it. Alien crashing and Area 52, yes?"

"Area 51 is actually in Nevada," Liz smirked. "You know, Las Vegas?"

"I know Las Vegas," he nodded. "Elvis Presley. Thank you very much."

Liz started to laugh. His impersonation was almost spot on. She especially liked his lip quiver.

"It is good to hear you laugh, jeune fille" he reached across and brushed her cheek. "You were crying earlier and I did not like to see it. You looked so sad. So I wanted to make you smile and I have done so. I am glad."

"Thank you, uhm," Liz smiled. The touch had startled her, but it had felt so pleasant. She had felt so much better now that she had someone to distract her from her problems. And he was right. She was laughing again, and it felt so good. "You know, I don't even know your name."

"Ah, mon dieu," he groaned. "Where are my manners? My mother, she would hit me across my head, no? My name is..." he paused. "Max... imillian, Maximillian... Effance. But my friends, they call me Max. And you, ma chère, are my newest and best friend."

"Elizabeth... uhm..." What did she answer? Parker or Valenti? "Parker. But you, Max, can call me Liz. Seeing as how I'm your newest and best friend and all. And if you could get me something to eat, then you would be my newest best friend, too."

"Ah, Liz," Max slapped his forehead. "Look what you are doing to me. You have cast the spells over me and we are forgetting your déjeuner. You were telling me what you would like to eat. No, wait. You said a ham sandwich, no? I will order it for you right now."

"Thank you," Liz laughed again. She had struck gold with Max.

"Gaston," Max called again, looking every bit at home in this pavement café as Liz had looked in her hometown diner where she and her friends had always met. "Can you make a small ham sandwich for my beautiful companion here? It's her first time in Paris and while she's hungry, I don't think she could manage the feast you would normally provide."

It felt so good to feel something other than misery. It felt so good to feel happy again. And this young man, Max, made her feel both good and happy. And so what if this man was only after one thing. He was charming, he was witty, and oh so confident in himself. And he was so incredibly good looking. She couldn't do any better than this young man right here if she tried. Max was as far from being an American boy as you could get. She guessed that he might be twenty-two, or maybe twenty-three. Perhaps he was what she needed in her life right now, a man with maturity, worldly wisdom and an overwhelming confidence to help guide her back to being happy in herself. She would enjoy his company while she could, for as long as she could, and if he wanted more than she was prepared to offer, well, the choice would be up to him. As long as she didn't lead him on, she would be fine.

"Is that French for waiter?" Liz smiled at him. "Gaston?"

"No," Max laughed. "Gaston is his name."

"Oh," Liz blushed but she started to laugh too.

While they waited, Max ran through a few items on the menu with her. She blushed again when she learned that jambon had actually been ham, and fromage was cheese.

"Ma belle Liz," he sat back in his chair and looked at her. "I hope you do not think this forward of me, but as I am a student, and as I have nothing to do during the long summer days, I would like to offer to you, my services as your guide to Paris."

"Really?" Liz smiled widely. She had hoped that she could see more of Max and had wondered how to ask him for his number. And here he was, offering to spend the rest of the day with her. She wondered if she could persuade him to spend as much time as he could spare. "'Cause that would just be so awesome. Especially with you speaking French as well as English. Then I could really get the most out of your city."

"Of course," he smiled. "When you have eaten your sandwich, we will begin. How long do you stay?"

"Two weeks," she smiled. Deciding to go for it, she asked him. "Is that okay? Would you like to spend some more time with me? Like tomorrow, maybe? And the day after that?"

"You are here for two weeks?" he chuckled, stretching his hand so it cupped her cheek. "And you would like me to spend as much time with you as I can? I have died and gone to heaven to be allowed to spend two whole weeks with such an angel as beautiful as you."

Liz turned red again. He was definitely a charmer, but she loved every bit of it. Especially when he had touched her.

"In two weeks," he continued, "you will be just like a Parisienne. I will make it so. And remember! Paris est la ville de l'amour."


* * *

Hi everyone,

Well now, wasn't that worth the panic and potential heartache I raised in chapter 1? And it only gets better!

Glad that you are enjoying it.

Temperature gets raised a notch tonight, folks.

Can I say that I am not picking on French coffee. The first time I went to Paris, I ordered a coffee. I got a small cup of something far stronger than I had ever experianced before, and did not much like it. However, it has grown on me but I profess a preference for a Latte.


And as for Liz's family, maybe they don;t know the full facts yet. And maybe they are under the impression that Liz might want a reconcilliation. She didnlt seem to say much about it. But hey! She's met Max now!

dreamer destiny - Hmm.. you think Max is hiding something?

begonia9508 - Iam so glad that you are liking my Max Francais. I am working hard on my accent, no? As for Kyle... do you want him to visit?

clueless - Well... posting as often as I cn but never mnore that once a week, here I am again.

maya - Thank you

lazza - Actually, you are talking to one who loves travelling to foreign climes.

Emz80m - Thank you

vampyrax - And to coin a song title, we've only just begun.

POM - Thank you.

Behrsgurl*87 - Well, the french is unimportant to the storyline, but can be translated easily at the site I mention in my authors note.

Jbehrbabe - Yeah, it's kind of important to the story, Liz being in France and all.

JNF247ATS - Yes, he did seem to hesitate there.

Michelle in Yonkers - Oh my! Max a con man? That would explain the prologue.

Heavenli24 - The italicised speech was for my benefit. My french is old. very very old.

Erina258 - In spite of you knowledge of Paris, I hope I can show you a few new things,

omwf - I do like French coffee to, you know. But the first time is always a shock!

Bixie - Yes, it does seem that Max has a secret or two. But what and how bad?

MamaDee52 - Well... I'm sure that Max will have those hearts a pounding. And maybe his persona is completely genuine. As for visiting PArisa, I hope my story will inspire you to, And if you do, remember. I am a hop step and a jump away!

martine - I never once pictured Maurice Chevalier while I was writing... until now. Thanks.

kittens - It certainly appears that way. But maybe not all is as it seemed?

frenchkiss70 - Wow. You went to college in PAris? I hope I get good marks from you for accuracy. As for Max's French... and his accent when speaking English.., Remember that I am not French myself and base everything on my own experiances. Sorry.

Ellie - Heh heh heh. Yup. And he gets better and better! LOL. Right beta readers?

Jason's Lover - A charmer indeed.

Sweet Liz - Glad you are enjoying the strangeness of it all, thenm. Do I speak French? Confession time. Not any more. I spent a year in Quebec, and lerned proper French (not Quebecois) there when I was 4. But I have forgotten nearly all of it. What I do speak has been picked up on my many trips to Paris over the years.

polar vixen - Good to see you again! I'm sure Max will have a big say in whether Liz goes back to Kyle or not.

smokie - I hope my earlier note regarding the coffee restores the balance. Yes, Liz is not as naive as all that and Max certainly does appear to be the charmer. They chould be good together. There will be enough of this story to get your teeth into Ooops. Another answer.

Gater101 - LOL! Yes. I have been told this Max is hot.

NorafanofMaxandLiz - Yes. Writing is addictive. Congrats on finishing your sequel Max and Liz have only just met and already you have them living together. And why not? LOL Heh heh - I bet your imagination is burning you right noe, huh? :) I hope you enjoy the rest of this story. Got some hot stuff heading your way!

roswellluver - Well, Max and Liz have Met. Like Liz said. Kyle who?

cherie - Glad you like this Max.

BehrObsession - Oh yes. I'm sure Liz is going to discover things she never thought possible... about herself too!

alinemom - oh yes. And how it begins!

Roswell 10/2/00 - Paris certainly does seem to be agreeing with Liz.

Alien614 - He does indeed.

AJK001 - Well... here's hoping that Max is there for Liz more often

Natz - Well... in the end, the decision will be Liz's. Guess who she might choose?


Running Authors Note. When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!




Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 3 - A Brief Encounter


Sunday - July 3rd, 2005


Because it was right there in front of them, Max suggested that he show her the Ile de la Cité and the Notre Dame cathedral.

"Okay," Liz smiled with a shrug of her shoulders. "You're the guide. I'll put myself completely in your hands and let you guide me."

He blinked for a moment and then gave her an easy smile.

"How much, Gaston?" he called, his eyes never leaving Liz's.

"I'll put it on your tab, along with a twenty percent tip." Gaston called back from the darker interior of the café. "And tell your friend that she needs to eat more. Put on some weight. There's hardly anything of her."

"I kind of like her the way she is," Max laughed. He turned to Liz. "Come," he stood up and held out his hand. "We can go now."

Smiling broadly, Liz stood up and put her hand in Max's.

"Don't we have to pay?" she turned to look at Gaston in his café.

"Trust me," he shrugged. "I will be paying."

Max guided Liz along the Quai des Grands Augustins to the Pont Michel where they crossed onto the Island. A boat with a glass covered roof sailed beneath them while they were on the bridge. Liz gave a cheery wave at the tourists looking up at them. Max smiled and shook his head. She couldn't help it. She was in Paris and holding the hand of a very handsome Frenchman who affected her in strange ways.

When they finally stood in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral, Liz could only feel humbled by its sheer presence. After staring up at the tall towers, she followed Max inside. It surprised her to find that while in the middle of the huge nave, services were proceeding, dozens of tourists were walking and talking around the outer edges. They climbed the steps that led up into one of the bell towers, to a parapet that ran across the front of the cathedral. There was a party of American tourists just in front of them.

"Hey, Martha," the twang of an American accent reached her.

The man who shouted closed one eye, bent over at his waist and thrust his shoulder into the air. He started walking with a limp while swinging his other arm.

"It'th the bellth," he lisped. "It'th the bellth! Ethmerelda!"

"I expect you see that a lot," Liz rolled her eyes when the man hurried away to catch up to his humorless wife who was not laughing.

"No," Max shook his head. He was grinning. "That is the first time I have seen that. It is funny, no?"

"No," Liz groaned. "It's embarrassing."

"Come," Max gave her hand a gentle pull. "Do you like flowers?"


* * *


"This is la Place Louis-Lepine," Max explained as Liz looked all around her at the dozens of stalls selling flowers of all types. "On all the days except Sunday, they have here the flower market. Le Marché aux Fleurs."

The whole area of the green and multi colored extravaganza was a riot of vibrant fragrances.

"On Sundays," Max continued, "they have here the market for birds. Le Marché aux Oiseaux."

"Can we come and see that?" Liz looked at him with her eyes widened.

"Of course, my little one," Max laughed. "I am your guide, remember? You tell me what it is you want and I will try to make it happen."


* * *


"What are you plans for dinner?" Max asked as they ate an ice cream on a bench near the Pont Neuf.

"I haven't made any," Liz shook her head. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner, perhaps?"

Max was watching her again. She liked it when he looked at her. He had this way about him that made her feel special.

"Yes," she nodded with a huge smile. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"Well, I must go home and have my shower and get ready," Max was smiling. "I will come for you at eight o'clock. Is that too early for you?"

"No," Liz shook her head, a little disappointed that Max was leaving her so soon. "No, that will give me plenty of time. I have to unpack still, and it would be nice to maybe take a nap. It's been kind of a long day. Tiring, too."

"So first, I will escort you safely to your hotel," he threw his paper tissue into the bin. "Where is it you are staying?"

"At the Hôtel duh View-ex Paris," Liz butchered the French words.

Max gave a quick grin, but hid it so that Liz would not see him laughing at her. He was too late.

"So how do you pronounce it, then?" she demanded, feigning annoyance.

"Repeat after me," he turned to face her. "Hôtel du."

"Hôtel du," Liz said perfectly.

"Vieux Paris," Max continued, emphasizing the French 'r'.

"Vieux Paris."

"Très bien, ma chérie!" Max exclaimed. He kissed her hand. "Very good. Now put it both together."

"Hôtel du Vieux Paris," Liz grinned, bouncing with excitement at getting it right, and at getting the kiss.

"We will have you speaking la belle langue française in no time," he winked. "So, your hôtel, she is just there."

He pointed at the tall building that rose above the others.

"Yes," Liz nodded. "And that's my balcony." She pointed. "The one at the top."

"Really?" Max looked shocked. "You have one of the big rooms?" His face fell. "You are here with someone? Your... boyfriend, perhaps?" His voice trailed away at the end.

"No," Liz shook her head. Having been banished since lunchtime, her sadness returned. "No, I'm, uh, here by myself, actually. So you don't have to worry. I'm all yours."

Max's smile reappeared and his gorgeous amber eyes lit up.

"Ah, ma jolie fleur," he placed his spare hand over his heart. "My heart fills with gladness to hear you say so, but you must not tease me like this."

"You're a big boy," Liz laughed. With a single sentence, he had chased her blues away. "I'm, sure you can take a little teasing."

"This is true," he grinned at her. "Now let us go. For you to unpack and rest, no?"

He walked her across the bridge and back to her hotel. At the main door, he held both of her hands and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"Bien, I call for you at eight, no?"

Liz ignored the bell-boy's raised eyebrows as she went into the hotel. She hurried to the elevator door. Safely inside, Liz released a heavy sigh and melted back against the wall of the elevator. She touched her hand to the point on her cheek where Max had kissed her. Not one of Kyle's kisses had ever felt that good.

Liz had heard of love at first sight. She had never truly believed it, but she had to ask herself, was that what she had just experienced? Yes, a small voice inside her cried. Or was this merely an infatuation with someone who had caught her on the rebound, and by treating her with overwhelming care, kindness and compassion, jut when she needed it most?


* * *


Safely in her room, Liz unlocked her suitcase and opened it up on her bed. Taking the hangers from her wardrobe, she hung her jeans on one side, and her sweaters and sweatshirts on the other. She placed her underwear in one drawer and her tops and T-shirts in another. Liz made a mental note to ask Max about laundry services. She placed her toiletries and her brushes and combs in the bathroom. She put her hair dryer and her books on the desk, and her flat shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe.

At the bottom of her suitcase, Liz found a large, square gift-wrapped box. She frowned, wondering who could have put it in there. The label said that it was from Maria. She smiled, remembering how she had turned up while she was packing, the night before the wedding. She never noticed her friend slip the parcel in.

Opening it, she could only gasp at what she saw. Neatly folded into the box was a pastel lilac dress that looked very thin and gauzy. There didn't seem to be much there at all. On either side of the dress was a pair of shoes in a matching color, with impossibly high heels. Leaving everything where it was, she picked up the card.

"Knock his sock off with these, Liz. May it be the most memorable night of his life. Love you, Maria."

She put the lid back on and tucked the box in the wardrobe. Knowing Maria's sense of humor, she just knew that it would be almost obscene. Knowing that Kyle should have been here to see to see it, she tucked it out of sight and headed for the shower. It was his loss.


She lathered up her strawberry scented shower gel and washed all the travel grime from her body. After washing her hair, she turned her attention to other matters. Her shaven mound had been bothering her for the last few hours. The hair was growing back. Pam had never warned her about THAT particular side effect. Slut. Because she was on her own now, Liz had originally planned to just let it grow back, but she knew that the itch she was now experiencing would only distract her and spoil her evening with Max. Feeling decidedly naughty, she reached for her shaving gel and her razor. She shaved her legs and under her arms at the same time.


Liz stood on the balcony, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink top with a lace tied v-neck. She had put on a little make-up and some perfume, tied her hair back, and felt ready for her dinner with Max. The phone rang. She picked up her cell phone first before she realized that it was her room phone.

"Hello?" she frowned.

"Bonjour ma petite fleur," Max's voice set her blood racing. "You are ready, no?"

"Hi, Max," Liz enthused, her face breaking into a huge smile. "I'll be right down."


The elevator seemed to take even longer than it normally did. When the door opened at last, Liz caught her breath. Max was waiting for her, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. Delicious. He wore a dark suit - was that an Armani? - with a white, open necked shirt. His amber eyes were sparkling as he looked upon her. If he was disappointed with her choice of clothing, he didn't say so. He did, however, step up to her and pull the band from her ponytail, allowing her hair to drop free.

"This is better, I think," he gazed at her with adoration. "Shall we go?" he offered her his hand, which she willingly, took. Eagerly, even.

"Uh huh," she nodded, smiling up into his eyes.

The concierge and the bellboy exchanged raised eyebrows as they watched the young woman leave with the Frenchman.

"Like I said earlier," the concierge shrugged. "How twenty first century these Americans are."


Out on the main road, next to the Seine, Max led Liz down the stairs of a Métro station called 'Saint Michel'. While her eyes flickered around her, completely lost, Max moved with the confidence that suggested he had been in these tunnels a hundred times. She couldn't understand how he seemed to instinctively know where they were going.

"Couldn't we have taken a taxi?" Liz was starting to wonder if his show of wealth was just that. A show. Not that it worried her.

"Yes, we could," he nodded, grinning at her. "But to deprive you of the experience of the métro would be a crime most horrible, no?"

They emerged back above ground at a station called 'Anvers'. Liz gasped when up the hill, she saw the Sacré Coeur towering above them.

"It is good, no?" Max looked up at the basilica with her. "We go this way," he pointed up the street with their joined hands.

In a square called La Place du Tertre, Max took Liz to a small restaurant called Chez la Mère. Outside, the square was lined with brightly colored awnings, extensions to the bars and restaurants. The middle of the square was filled with another cluster of tented roof covers, red and white, sheltering more tables and chairs. At strategic points, pavement artists plied their trade by selling portraits of people willing to sit still for long enough.

"You would like one made for you?" Max noticed her looking at them. "Perhaps with the Sacré Coeur behind you."

"Oh, no," Liz shook her head.

"No," Max agreed. "Not today, perhaps. But definitely before you go, we will get your portrait painted. Two. One for you and one for me."

"How about the both of us," Liz gave up an easy smile. "Together."

It hid the confusing pang to her heart that the thought of leaving brought her. She didn't want to leave him. She had only just met him and he had already worked his way into her heart.

"But, hey," his response seemed artificially upbeat, as though he had sensed her sudden sadness. "You have only just arrived, no? We cannot be thinking of your going home yet. There is so much to be done."

They exchanged comfortable small talk throughout their meal, with Max pointing out interesting items on the menu or their surroundings.

"In this square," he confided in Liz. "This is where the word 'Bistro' was invented as another name for restaurant. In 1814, the Cossacks of the Allied army, they were forbidden the alcohol by their captains. So they would demand their drinks on the sly, calling 'bistro, bistro' which is Russian for 'quickly, quickly'."

Liz lapped up every word. Max seemed to know so much. This beat hearing about the all time scoring record of Wayne Gretzky hands down.

After their meal, they wandered around Montmartre for a while. He stopped her outside a small corner store.

"Liz," he turned to face her and took both of her hands in his. "Would you like to share with me the bottle of wine on your balcony?"

"Oh, I..." Liz started to blush. She really did like Max, but to invite him up to her room... "Please, Max, I just want to be friends, you know?"

"This I understand," his eyes told her that he did. "But I am suggesting a drink of wine only. I will make the promise that nothing will happen that you do not want. I would do nothing if it would make you feel uncomfortable."

Her mind considered this.

"Okay, then," she nodded, unable to believe that she had just allowed a Frenchman that she had known for only eleven hours, talk her into inviting him to her bedroom.


They sat in the chairs on her balcony, pushed together with the table to one side, while they drank the wonderful white wine Max had bought, from two wineglasses he had persuaded the night concierge to part with.

"So what do you think of the wine?"

"I've never tasted anything like it," Liz gasped.

"Tomorrow," he smacked his lips after another sip. "We will try the red, no?"

"Yes," Liz gave a dreamy smile. Spending time with Max was like nothing she had ever experienced before. And sitting on the balcony where she could see Paris all laid out and lit up, it was positively magical. "Oh, look at that!"

Liz pointed to the river where a brightly-lit paddle steamer cruised by.

"Ah, yes," Max nodded with a smile. "La Belle Vallée. It is a floating restaurant."

"Incredible," Liz shook her head. "Paris is a really beautiful city, Max." Especially since you're here.

"Yes she is," he nodded. "And you have helped to make it so."

She was glad the darkness hid her blush.


The wine finished, and feeling decidedly mellow, Liz couldn't help her yawn.

"I am keeping you up," Max apologized. "And you have had such a long day."

"Oh, no," Liz shook her head. "You don't have to go yet."

"Ah, but I must," he grinned. "Because then I might break my promise. And you must rest for tomorrow, no? Because she is a busy day. Bonne nuit, ma Liz chérie."

Max leaned over and kissed her on her lips, a warm, soft and lingering kiss. Too stunned to move, he was gone before she could react. That kiss had been a thousand times better than the one on her cheek, earlier, and had left Kyle's so far behind, he was off the map. Her whole body had reacted to him, but he had gone. Liz was surprised to find that she felt saddened that he had not even tried to seduce her.

"I thought all Frenchmen were fantastic lovers or something," she pouted to herself. "Wasn't Casanova French? Am I unattractive or something?"

Oh, get a grip, she chided herself. You told him you didn't want anything to happen and he as much told you he wouldn't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.

"That's the trouble," she started to squirm in her seat. "That kiss has left me feeling pretty darned uncomfortable."

Almost zombie like, Liz rose from her chair and went back into her room. She pulled off her top and let it fall to the floor. Her jeans were next. Unfastening her bra, this too joined the clothes on the floor. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed. Off came her socks, followed by her panties. Naked, she lay back on her bed, dreaming that Max would return and touch her body, like he had touched her heart.

Pretending that they were Max's hands, her hands danced across her chest, lightly teasing the soft mounds of her breasts, her finger brushing her nipples. They began to harden, making Liz sigh with pleasure. They started to become sensitive, so receptive to her light touch. Tendrils of awareness drifted from them to other parts of her body, making her aware of an ache that was demanding fulfillment. To ignore that demand was more than Liz could do. She wished that Max had not left.

Her right hand rested on her tummy as the fingers of her left began an exploration of one of her breasts. The skin felt smooth as her fingers brushed across her flesh until she came to the crinkled tissue of her aureole. So soft, just before the swelling hardness of the nipple. Her right hand slid upward and started to tease her other breast, gently pinching the nubs, tugging, pulling, feeling the shocks that raced from each to her groin. Nearly painful in intensity, Liz couldn't stop.

Neither could she stop herself from crying out at the feelings of intense pleasure. She was feeling free because her actions were not furtive and secret, like they were at home the few times she had ever done this. Where she would have been stifling her cries to remain silent so her mother would not hear her, and covered by her blankets in case she did and came to investigate, she was on top of her bed, uncovered, naked, her legs spread wide while touching herself. And she didn't care if all of Paris heard her.

The pressure built. She fantasized that the man of her dreams, Max, was with her, his strong hands on her smooth, pale flesh. His strong physique was ready to make love to her, wanting to take her to paradise.

Liz's hands traveled across her belly, imitating the moves his hand would have made. She splayed her fingers to touch as much of her body as she could reach. She paused at her navel to run a fingernail around the depression. Another shock sped from the contact to her burning pussy that woke more with each passing minute. She ran her fingers along her abdomen, just above her now smooth mound, at the juncture of her legs. Her hips jerked; she knew it was time. She was amazed at how sensitive the skin now was, devoid of her hair.

She could feel her own heat as she slid her fingers across her smooth sex and touched her damp nether lips, slowly slipping one finger between them into the soft folds that desperately awaited a touch. She was definitely wet. The moisture coated her finger and then a second as she slowly started rubbing. It felt so good, nearly an end in itself. The ache inside grew, becoming more insistent as her fingers journeyed down the folds to the entrance to her need. She paused there, touching the heated flesh. Her urgency was so great, she wanted to plunge her fingers inside, imagining that it was Max who was taking her maidenhead. But she wanted to present the real Max with that gift, so she contented herself with just touching. Her fingers moved up again and started to brush tiny circles around the hard little button that peeked through her clitoral hood.

The beating of her heart quickened and her breathing became ragged. The burning in her pussy grew to an inferno of want. Her inner thighs began to quiver. She knew she was close. She couldn't help thrusting her hips as her fingers continued to tease her small knob of ecstasy. Each caress went to her innermost being, setting her whole existence on fire. Waves of want and need swept through her, a demand for the ultimate pleasure that would not be denied. Her cries echoed around her room, through the open doorway and into the night sky.

Rubbing harder, quicker, the rhythm increased as she drove herself to the edge. With a huge explosion of color, liquid rapture had been won. She climaxed as wave upon wave of pleasure swept over her.

"Oh, god!" she screamed, not caring who heard her. "Take me, Max!"

Her heart nearly pounded right through her chest as her orgasm began to ease. She could start to feel the rest of her body now. The last flicker of pleasure teased out a shiver and a final deep breath. Her last thoughts before she drifted into a deep, satisfying sleep was that tomorrow night, she would not make Max promise to behave. She giggled at the thought of how wicked that made her sound. And she loved it. She had known Max for no more than twelve hours and he had her behaving like a lovesick teenager. Which, at the end of the day, was what she was.


* * *

Hi everyone!

Thank you all so much for your amazing. I'm glad that you are all enjoying this story. When I first told BelevnDreamsToo about it, I confessed to her that I was worried about posting such a hot story, because not only was I afraid I might offend people, I was afraid I might not write it correctly. Well, you can all thank BelevnDreamsToo, BordersInsanity and NorafanofMaxandLiz who all pushed me (very hard in one case ) to continue this story.

lazza - Well, I do like to make my Max likeable. Yes, visit Paris, but London first!

Gater101 - Oh my! I hope you did get some sleep after all!

vampyrax - Oh yes. Prepare yourself for melting computer chips!

MamaDee2 - Yes, you sure missed a treat! Implode. Yes. I thinks that's what Liz does.

BehrObsession - It's interesting to see how people percieve my Max. We'll have to wait an see.

Roswell 10/2/00 - Phew! Glad it went over well. Yup. Socks coming off all over the place!

g7silvers - Hmmm... Max as a con artist, huh?

Erina258 - Yes, I think its safe to say he has a secret. Well, my stories are nothing if not educational! First I explain the Redhsift theory and now, a lesson in Russian/French.

begonia9508 - Yes. I think much of Liz's reaction is a little reboundish... but a lot of it isn't.

martine - Yes, I heve seen everything I have mentioned on my story so far. I DO like Paris, and I DO like French coffee. Its just that the first time took me by surprise. Lis pleasing herslef... it's like a stepping stone to her transition. She needed to make the first step.

omwf - I'm glad that I am not offending any French people, especially ant Parisiennes. It is not my intention to poke fun at all. I like Paris, I like the French. I thought Paris would make a wonderful backdrop for THIS story and as I knew it 'fairly' well...

Bixie - Heh heh, Well... mAx just gets better in spite of this... secret he harbours.

Gater101 - Ah yes... what does Max do to Liz? Oe maybe he has already done it? Wait!!! I am that friendly! Well, not in that flirtatious sense, of course.

Jason's Lover - Italian? This Max is, uhm... French. But he could just as easily been Italian if I had known Rome as well as I know Paris.

smokie - Are you glad you stuck with me, now? I thought you might like Armani Max. Someone else did too! heh heh heh.

Emz80m - Yup. And it gets hotter!

anonymousarfan - It's okay to miss parts... but please remember to come back!

freenchkiss70 - Well... as you know Paris so well, please don;t point out my mistakes in public, like the fact that there are no ten story building overlooking the Isle de Cite. I needed a long elevator ride. heh heh heh. Glad you are enjoying this.

clueless - Well... watch out for the clue who Max might be coming up.

BelevnDreamsToo - LOL - And you know more than the rest! Real Kiss? Oh my! You think THAT was real?

sunrise102 - I'm sure that Liz will resolve any Issues with Kyle... but as to running into Max... First, he would HAVE to be American and second, he would HAVE to live in Boston

Natz - Thank you.

AJK001 - Well... if you enjoy my stories, it will please you to know that I am writing another little Christmas one. LOL

cherie - Well... whatever his nationality, everyone seems to love him.

Running Authors Note. When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 4 - Rodin's Kiss


Monday - July 4th, 2005

"Hello?" a very sleepy Liz answered her room phone that had just woken her up.

She had slept like the proverbial log. Still half asleep when the phone rang, she had just reached out and picked up the handset, still lying flat on her back, on her bed.

"Bonjour ma belle fleur," Max's voice rang through the earpiece.

"Mmmmm," Liz stretched her lithe body and smiled. Her nipples stiffened at his voice. "Morning Max."

"I was wondering if perhaps you have not had your petit déjeuner yet?"

"Uhm," Liz frowned. "What's that?"

"Petit déjeuner," Max laughed. "Your breakfast."

"Oh," she gave a sleepy chuckle. "No. Not yet."

"Then perhaps you would like to breakfast together, no?" he sounded hopeful.

"Oh yeah," she nodded, eager to see him again. "That would be lovely."

"Très bien," she could sense his smile.

"As soon as you get here, come on up to my room, Max," she pushed her hand through her hair.

"Then, I will be with you shortly," he chuckled. "For I am downstairs making this call from the lobby and will come as fast as the elevator will let me."

"Okay," she smiled. "See you in a moment."

Liz hung up the phone and gave a long and languid stretch, giving a contented groan. Downstairs? Liz sat upright. Suddenly aware that she was still naked from last night's act of self-pleasure, she leapt from her bed and rushed to the door where her toweling robe was hanging. She pulled it on, belting it tightly at her waist. That was when she saw her clothes all over the floor.

"Why does he have to come so early?" she growled as she crossed the room in a hurry.

Liz scooped up the offending articles and threw them into the wardrobe, slamming the door shut behind them. Looking around the room, she ran her hands through her hair and then started to straighten her bed.

"Oh, god," she squeezed her eyes shut. "I need a shower, I have to get dressed..." There was a knock at the door. "And he's here."

Liz couldn't help the butterflies that flew in her tummy again, and while she was really glad that Max was here, she wished she had had time to get ready, first.

"Hi, Max," she smiled brightly as she pulled open the door and stepped back to let him in. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight, white T-shirt.

"Because you like the wearing of jeans," he grinned at her, "I will wear them too. Bien?"

Liz thought he looked good in jeans, especially in that T-shirt that showed off his muscled torso. But last night, he had looked just so damned sexy in that suit. She had been wet all evening with him, which had been a first for her. The only times she would get aroused with Kyle were the few times he fondled her after a make out session, and he was nearly asleep. Then, he would caress her, rather than grope. Even then, she had only been a little moist. But last night, she had been constantly soaking, and all he had done was look good and touch her face a few times. Max's touch was electric.

"I uh..." she found her voice at last. "You kind of took me by surprise. I'm not ready yet."

"This I can see," Max nodded. "Would you feel more comfortable if I waited for you downstairs?"

"No," she blurted, a little too eagerly. "No. It's okay. I'll uh, go in the bathroom, and uhm... have my shower. You can wait in here. Okay?"


Liz grabbed a set of clean clothing from the wardrobe, hoping that Max didn't see the clothes she had tossed in earlier, and slipped into the bathroom before she did something to embarrass herself. Like jumping Max. Leaning against the door, taking deep breaths, she could hardly believe that she was so aroused again. She could feel the wetness.

"He is too hot," she sighed, wondering if her virginity would last the day.

Liz debated locking the door and in a bold move that surprised even her, she elected to leave it unlocked in the hope that Max would come in and join her in the shower. She walked behind the clear glass panels of the shower cubicle and turned on the water, standing beneath the pounding jets of water. The shower head was connected to a flexible hose and she could take it off the wall and hold it. She washed her hair like that, making sure all the soap had been rinsed away.

Feeling devilish, Liz reached for her shaving gel, and wishing he would come in and catch her in the act of doing something so erotic, she shaved herself again, even though she didn't really need it, yet. But he didn't come in, leaving her wishes and fantasies unfulfilled.

Dressed in her jeans and a frilly top, Liz went into the room so that she could dry her hair. Max was on the balcony, leaning against the guardrail and staring across Paris with a faraway look on his face. He was so handsome, perhaps she was reading too much into his mannerisms. What would someone like him see in a mousy girl like her? He was just a very nice man who was being kind to a stranger in town. Turning, she started to pass the hair dryer over her hair, running a comb through her dark locks.

"Allow me," she felt his hand over hers on the dryer.

While she stood still, Max passed a brush through her hair and directed the hot air to help dry it. Liz melted. When he announced that she was done, she turned to face him as she reached back to put her hair in a ponytail. He took her hands, pulling them away and stopped her while he looked at her.

"No," he begged. "Your hair, she is lovely. Do not hide it so."

Liz couldn't help the shiver of excitement that ran through her body while she felt naked beneath his gaze. She really hoped he liked what he saw.


* * *


The elevator moved way too fast for Liz's liking. Standing close together and holding hands, it seemed almost like an express. As she stepped out with Max, she saw the look of surprise the concierge gave her. She really would have to explain things to him. But not right now.

Max led the way into the breakfast room, held Liz's chair for her to sit before he too sat down. A waitress appeared at their side.

"Can I offer you some Tea? Coffee?"

"Could you bring the young lady and myself some coffee, please? And could you bring a jug of hot milk?"

"Certainly, sir," she nodded and turned away.

"I hope you do not mind," he leaned across the table to Liz. "I ordered us some coffee. I did not know if you preferred tea, so..."

"Coffee's fine," Liz nodded. "So... do we just help ourselves?" She indicated the table that was laden with food.

"That is correct," Max smiled.

Standing up, he offered her his hand. She loved that he kept on doing that. Whenever they were together, which had been a lot, really, he was always holding her hand. And she, his.


The table contained bread rolls, croissants, toast, bowls of various jams and marmalades and huge pots of cereals and mueslis. There were even plates of meats and cheeses along with bowls of fruit. At the far end was an array of jugs containing fruit juices by the score, as well as milk. While Max poured two glasses of orange juice, Liz helped herself to a bowl of Cornflakes. Max returned with the juices as well as a plate holding two croissants and a pat of butter.

"Is that all you're having?" Liz looked at his plate.

"It is enough," he shrugged.

"What are they?" Liz peered at them. "They look nice."

"You have not had croissants before?" he raised his eyes.

"No," she shook her head. "I've heard of the, just never... Sorry."

Max spread some butter on the broken end of a croissant and tore the piece off. He reached across, holding it out to feed Liz. As she took the morsel from his hand, her lips caressed his fingers.

"Mmmmmm..." her eyes were closed in ecstasy. The pastry had melted in her mouth. "That is wonderful."

"And now you are wishing that you have the croissants and not the Cornflakes, no?"

"Yes," Liz giggled. "You keep doing that. Finish your sentences with no."

"I am sorry," he gave a patient smile. "I will try to stop it."

"No, no, no," Liz reached across and took his hand. "Don't change on my account. I like you just the way you are."

He gave her a bright smile while he looked into her eyes. Liz liked that he did that. He never looked away as though he might be embarrassed that he had been caught admiring her. He was always looking at her, and it made her feel, well, cherished.

"The same cannot be said of your breakfast," he continued. "Leave your cereal."

He passed his plate with his last croissant and his butter across the table to Liz. He rose and went back to the table while she copied his earlier action and tore into the pastry. Getting a clean plate, he collected another croissant, returning just as the waitress had brought the coffee. While he poured out two cups, Liz buttered a broken end of her croissant. She held this out for Max.

"Fair's fair," her eyes sparkled.

Like hers, Max's lips teased her fingers, but he managed to suck her whole finger into his mouth. She could only stare into his eyes in fascination. Liz was falling, big time. She did not know of a single person who would have done that in a crowded room. This man took PDAs to a whole new level. And she reveled in it.


What have you got planned for us today?" she asked as they left the breakfast room.

"Well," he grinned. "I hope we might spend all of the day in your room, no?"

"Uh, no," she blushed, but she laughed with him.

It actually didn't seem like a bad idea.

"Ah, you are like a drug to me, Liz," Max sighed. He gave her a smoldering smile.

Something clicked in the back of Liz's mind.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "I forgot something. I forgot to take my... uhm... medicine."

They returned to her room but at the door, she hesitated. Would Max think that she had changed her mind and was bringing him back for sex? She hurried into the room, and popped today's birth control pill from its protective blister. Liz swallowed it with a mouthful of water. She had started taking the pill two months ago, ready for her married life... with Kyle. The other morning, in the cold light of Kyle's betrayal, she had planned to just forget about taking them. With Kyle out of the picture, there was no chance of her falling pregnant. But now, she wasn't so sure. And could she trust herself to make sure Max wore a condom? She hoped so.


* * *


After catching the Métro again, Max handed her a digital camera.

"We can take the photographs all day," he explained. "Then I will take the memory card home and print them for you, bien?

"Bien," Liz nodded, examining the camera.

She lifted it up, capturing Max's face. He gave her a sexy smile and she pressed the shutter button.

"First. We will stop for a coffee and a pastry, no?" Max led her out of the Métro at a stop called 'Invalides' "We must keep up our strength."

"But we only just ate breakfast," Liz frowned. "I don't want to get fat."

"Fat?" Max looked surprised. "You? You would have to eat the whole pastry store, vous si peu top model. But do not worry. You will have much walking and the fat, she will be burned away."


At the very small Patisserie Jean Millet, and very intimate with no more than a dozen tables, Max ordered coffee and a small selection of cakes. Intimate was very nice, as far as Liz was concerned, because she was pressed right up against Max's body. Outside, a violinist was entertaining passersby in the hope of eliciting a few Euros for his trouble.

"This is lovely, Max," her eyes were big as she took everything in.

"When I have someone as beautiful as you, I must choose carefully where I take her."

The coffee and the cakes arrived. Liz's eyes lit up when she bit into one of them, a chocolate cake.

"Oh, Max!" she moaned. It was almost sexual. "This is to die for. I wish Maria could taste this."

"Maria?" Max asked.

"My best friend," Liz nodded, taking another bite of heaven.

"And here am I," Max gave a fake frown, "thinking that I was your new best friend."

"It's okay," Liz smirked. "I have a big heart. I can have two best friends."

"Yes," Max agreed. "You have the big heart and I am glad for being there."

The violinist started a new tune.

"Oh," her eyes lit up again. "I know this one. It's the tune they play in Sabrina. The remake with Harrison Ford and Julia Ormonde. Do you know what it's called?"

"But of course," Max chuckled. "This song was made immortal by Edith Piaf. She is called, 'La Vie En Rose.'"

"What does it mean?" Liz tilted her head. "Something about a rose?"

"Close," Max nodded. "In English, I think you would say, looking at life through a rose colored glasses, no?"


* * *


Their cakes and coffee finished, they moved on. Max took her to the musée Rodin.

"You know Rodin?" Max asked as they looked at the famous statue outside.

"Oh yes," Liz nodded. "This is The Thinker, right?"

They wandered about the museum, looking at the work of Rodin.

"Ah," Max smiled. "This, I think, is his most famous piece, no?"

They were standing in front of a naked couple, entwined in an embrace.

"The Kiss," Liz exhaled. "Wow. I've seen it on TV, and in magazines and things. But seeing it up close like this... it's just..."

"You know," Max leaned close to her ear. His husky voice sent shivers down her spine. "It is a tradition in Paris that when you see the Kiss for the first time, you must kiss someone."

"Really?" Liz was breathless. Her face was burning up. "Who?"

"The person who showed it to you," Max smirked. "Naturellement."

"So..." Liz's voice went hoarse. "That would mean..."

"That you must kiss me or you will be breaking a centuries old tradition."

"And I couldn't do that," Liz smiled, shaking her head. "Far be it from me to break a tradition."

She stepped closer him. She had just planned to give him a soft kiss on his lips. When they met, their lips lingered, soft and sensuous against one another. But it didn't end. Max wrapped his arms around her, one holding her waist while the other held the nape of her neck, teasing her hair. Liz held her hands to his face, just below his ears. Their lips parted, granting access to their tongues as their lips nipped at one another. The kiss deepened and they were almost devouring one another. It was full blooded, and passionate. Max was only the second person that Liz had ever kissed romantically, and she doubted anyone would ever kiss her in this manner again. It was... perfect.

"Which set do you suppose is the statue?" someone inquired from behind.

When they broke apart, Liz was left gasping, hot, bothered and very, very wet. Her legs felt like Jello and she had to lean against Max for support.

"Shall we see the house and gardens now?" Max asked her when she seemed more composed.

That was some kiss, she thought, still reeling from the experience. Was Max not as affected as her? But she saw that there was a sheen of perspiration on his brow, and he had the biggest bulge in the front of his jeans. She allowed a smile of victory. It seemed that she was not the only one suffering from sexual frustration. Coming to Paris had been such a good idea, especially if she was going to be coming 'in' Paris.


They crossed the river to the Right Bank and with the Obélisque behind them, walked through Les Jardins des Tuileries. In the courtyard of the famous Louvre museum, they sat at the Café Marly for their lunch, facing the large glass Pyramide.

"I'm having a great time, Max," Liz looked up from her chicken salad and beamed at him. "I can't begin to tell you how much you being my guide means to me."

"And I cannot tell you how much pleasure I am taking in seeing you so happy," he smiled back. "I thank god that I was sitting next to you yesterday. That is fate, no? Destin."


"Where to now?" Liz was practically bubbling with joy.

"I thought that perhaps we could walk through a place we call Les Passages. This is what you would call a Mall, only it is like no mall you have seen before. It is very old."

They wandered around a series of streets and lanes that took them past small stores and arcades that sold stamps, coins, old books and old toys. In one corner, they found a man who carved wooden pipes and in another, they found a doll hospital where a man repaired... well, dolls. The whole area was covered with an iron framework and glass panels had been set into the frames they formed.

"This was constructed in 1780," Max smiled at her as she looked up at the girders. "The Americans were still fighting to be free of the English, were you not?"


They left the Mall behind and followed more roads and alleyways past churches, printing stores and even a Turkish Bath.

"Ah," Max smiled as they emerged in front of an elegant but run down building. "Here is something that perhaps you have heard about before in Paris? This is the old Folies Bergères. Today, of course, it is a shadow of what it once was."

"It still looks lovely, though," Liz smiled. "Like a beautiful woman who has grown old, gracefully." She caught Max staring at her. "What?"

"You are simply amazing, Elizabeth Parker," he chuckled. "Do you know that? Ah, mon dieu, look at the time." It was only four o'clock. "Now we must return to prepare for tonight."

"Why?" Liz grinned with anticipation. "What's happening tonight?"

"Ah, pardonnez-moi," Max shook his head. "Here I am making with the assumptions again. Liz, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"Oh, Max," Liz practically bounced up and down. "I'd love to." Max started grinning as though he had won the state lottery. "Though I insist you let me pay. I haven't paid for anything yet."

"Then, we must return you to your hotel so you can be making yourself ready," he waved her request away. "So that I can return to my home and do the same."

"Where do you live, Max," Liz looked up at him with rounded eyes.

"I live over that way," he pointed in the general direction of the Sacré Coeur. "It is not far, actually. Perhaps I will take you there one day. And I will one day perhaps show you to my family. And they would 'love' to meet with you, but I fear that will be très embarrassing. They will have us married already."

Liz couldn't help the chill of sadness that ran down her spine.

"Did I say something wrong?" Max frowned, noticing her mood change.

"No," Liz sighed. "No. Sorry. I... I guess I'm still a little jet lagged."

"Then you can perhaps take a little nap before you get ready, no?"

"That would be a good idea," Liz nodded. The concern in Max's voice made her want to cry. "Yeah, thanks."

Liz remained quiet all the way back to her hotel, sensing that Max was berating himself for whatever he had said to upset her. But some wounds were still raw and Max couldn't heal everything.


He walked with her to the main doors of the hotel again. She had cheered up considerably, but she was not as talkative. Perhaps she did need a nap.

"You do have a dress, no?" Max looked at her suspiciously. "Because where we are going tonight, you cannot wear the jeans."

"Uhm," Liz frowned. She only had jeans. No, wait. Maria had given her that dress. "Yes, yes, I do have one dress, but..." she sounded dubious. Would it be wearable?

"Only one?" Max sounded surprised. "No no no no no no, this will not do. This we must remedy, but we can do nothing until it is tomorrow. Bien. Wear your dress tonight and tomorrow, I will show to you such stores that you have never seen before. I will pick you up again at eight this evening. Okay? Au revoir, mon bel ange."

He left her with a swift and gentle kiss on her lips, and before she could tell him that she couldn't wear her dress, he was gone, leaving her melting into a puddle on the spot. With a heavy sigh, she made her way indoors.


* * *


When Max rounded the corner onto the main road, he broke into a run. At the top of the stairs to the Métro station, he stopped. From his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. Flipping it open, he noticed that he had five voicemail messages. He rolled his eyes and pressed a button. His called was answered after a few rings.

"Hey, " he spoke affectionately into the phone. "It's me. Sorry I missed your calls, but I was kind of busy."

He listened to his caller's reply.

"You know I would never miss our date," he assured the caller. "You're the most important person in my life. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Be ready for me, though, okay? I have something big going on right now, and I have to get away pretty quickly. Yeah. See you in twenty. Love you too."

He slapped his phoned closed and while shoving it into his back pocket, he descended the stairs, two at a time.


* * *

Hi everyone!

Well, I think it will be quicker if I deal collectively with your main concerns tonight. So much feedback to get through, and I KNOW you guys just want (need?) to get to the story, so...

Please remember that any Italicised text is French. One or two got confused when Max spoke into the phone. He was speaking to someone in French.

I can see that many of you are having doubts about Max's TRUE intentions. Not liking to give too much away, I will tell you that no one SENT Max, okay?

So thank you for leaving me feedback, and I apologise for the simple smileies, but I hope that my little comment above and my story below gives you all the answers you want.

AJK001 -

anonymousarfan -

clueless -

vampyrax - I'm sure the dream was worth it though, am I right?

Eccentric One - What can I say? Even when I write fluff, I just have to have at least ONE cliffie.

dreamer destiny -

Smac -

BehrObsession -

Ellie - YOu should have called me And I'm sure the Concierge has seen it all before.

Behrsgirl1230 -

Jason's Lover -

g7silvers -

lazza -

Gater101 - I must confess, that Max's 'English is based on mostly TV characatures and that the French people I know all speak English so very well. But it is so difficult to write an accent. You HAVE to turn it into a characature - or else misspell everything which soils the readers enjoyment.

POM - At this point, Max knows nothing of Liz's marriage - hence his confusion at her sudden mood swing when he mentioned about being married by his family.

Roswell 10/2/00 - Uhm... I'm afraid that I have to confess here. As far as I'm aware, the Rodin Kiss tradition is a complete fabrication to get Liz to kiss Max. But hey, who says I can't start new traditions?

SmileeUK -

begonia9508 -

MamaDee52 - Heh Heh Heh - I DID warn you, didn't I?

Gater101 - Okay, not one of your statements are 100% correct. Train timetable? NO, it's the Metro. You just go down and catch the mext one that comes along. And Max is visiting his family, hence maybe he has no car, and in any case, trust me, using the Metro is FAR easier than trying to drive in Paris! (apologies to all Parisiennes, but I'm sure you agree. LOL)

alienluver212 - We already know from the prologue that SOMETHING happens between Max and Liz.

smokie - I'll be watching for the jury's verdict. Soon.

Erina258 -

frenchkiss70 - (hiding evil smile with hand)

Bixie -

NorafanofMaxandLiz - Heat Wave. Yes. An apt expression.

Michelle in Yonkers -

Natz -

BelevnDreamsToo - You know, some might think my cruel streak is contageous.

ISLANDGIRLS - I needed a bad guy and Sean always seems to get that part, so... Normally, I make Kyle a good guy.

behrlyliz -

martine - Do you know Paris? Then I hope I do it justice.

cherie -

mareli - IF Max is genuine, and he is a student visiting his family, and is attracted to Liz, why wouldn;t he want to spend as much time with her as possible? Heck, I sure would do that!




Running Authors Note.
When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk



Part 5 Dress for Dinner


Monday - July 4th, 2005


Walking away from Liz, leaving her at her Hotel had been hard, but Max knew that if he hadn't left her then, he would have ended up in her room, and the way the sexual tension had been rising between them today, he might have done something he would have regretted. Not that he would regret anything he did with Liz, it was just that he felt she might not be ready for anything more just yet. She hadn't known him that long. And she really did look as though she could use a nap. He wanted her wide-awake tonight so that she would enjoy what he had planned for their evening.

Plus, he also had another date. And as forgiving as she was, if he missed this one, she would make his life hell. And there was no way he wanted that. She was too important to him, Liz or no Liz.

Back above ground, he hurried along the broad avenue. He approached the large walled complex and produced the ID card she had given him. He showed it to the armed soldiers, standing on duty at the gate and they let him inside. Turning away from the large ornate entranceway, he angled toward the side of the building. At a smaller side door, the tradesman's entrance, he swiped his ID card through the slot and punched in his PIN number. The door buzzed and he pushed his way in. He hurried through a small warren of doorways and halls, finally emerging into an extravagantly decorated private sitting room. An attractive, middle-aged blond woman sitting in a double sofa smiled when he entered the room. On a table in front of her was a china tea service and a plate of cakes.

"Hello, Maxwell," the woman greeted him.

Max crossed the room to sit at her side, kissing her cheek as he sat down.

"Hello, Mom," he smiled. "I'm sorry I can't stay too long. I have to get ready."

"Oh?" Diane smiled at her only son. "What plans have you got for tonight."

"I have a date with the most amazing young woman I have ever met," he sighed. "But I know I haven't seen you for a few days so I thought I'd better come and say hello now, 'cause I'm kind of hoping to spend a lot of time with her."

"I see," she teased. "You fly all the way to Paris to spend your holidays with your mom and dad and instead, you spend it chasing a girl. She's French, I take it?"

"No," Max smiled, thinking of Liz. "She's American, actually. She came over to spend two weeks in Paris, all by herself. And I just couldn't let her struggle and see only the tourist traps, now, could I? Not when I know Paris like the back of my hand."

"Well," Diane sighed. "You know how your father and I hoped that you and Tess..."

"How many times do I have to say this, Mom?" Max reached up and scratched his ear. "I don't ... I do not like Tess. I never have and I never will."

"Well, she loves you," Diane shrugged.

"Please don't tell me you think that's a good foundation of a marriage, Mom," Max sighed. "The wife adoring the husband, doing her best to smother him while the husband can't stand to be in the same room as his wife and wishing he was with some other Liz. I mean... woman."

"But Tess has all the right connections, Max, and if you..."

"I may be studying Political Science, Mom," Max rolled his eyes. "But that doesn't mean that I want to go into politics. Not that kind, any way. But when I marry, I want it to be about love, and not about position, money or even connections. I wouldn't care if she was a princess, or a pauper."

"And this girl you've just met. Are you suggesting she's a pauper?"

"Hardly," Max snorted. "I don't know many paupers who could afford to rent a balcony room on the top floor of the Hôtel du Vieux Paris for two weeks."

"Goodness," Diane widened her eyes. "I guess not."

"You would like Liz, Mom," Max took a sip of his tea. "She's really lovely. And she's nice to look at, too." Max, who was grinning widely, gave his mother a wink.

"So when do we get to meet her?" Diane was impressed. Her son rarely spoke about his girlfriends.

"I'm not sure, Mom," Max frowned. "It's kind of complicated right now, but it's early days yet. I don't want to jinx it. That's why I need to run. I'm picking her up at eight and I have to go home and shower, first."

"I still don't understand why you don't live here," Diane pouted. "We see so little of you as it is."

"Because apparently," he chuckled, "you can't find your muse here."

"Pardon me?" Diane shook her head.

Max spent an hour and a half talking about things with his mother, rather, Max spent the time being grilled. But he bore it with fortitude, laughing at one or two rather searching questions. All too soon for Diane, Max looked at his watch and stood up.

"I'll drop by when I can," Max kissed his mother's cheek. "But, you know..."

"Yes," she nodded. "I know. Liz. Have fun and be careful. And I know that I don't have to worry about how you'll treat her, right?"

"Bye Mom," Max, who was already headed for the door, rolled his eyes.


* * *


In the comfort of her room, which had been cleaned in her absence, Liz laid out on her bed, still a little unnerved by her sudden mood swing at Max's innocent remark about being married off. Perhaps she was not as over Kyle's betrayal as she had thought. When she woke up from her nap, however, she felt refreshed and happy again; eager to see the handsome young man who had exploded into her heart. Max would be picking her up soon, and taking her out for another wonderful dinner. She loved spending time with Max and she hoped that he felt the same way. It had been such a good idea, coming to Paris.

She took her shower, again washing her hair, and giving herself another close, all over shave. She would rather be safe then sorry. After drying herself, she applied her deodorant and then picked up the hair dryer. Like Max had done earlier, she used her brush instead of her comb, leaving her hair fuller and with curly waves. When it was dry, she started to put her hair in a ponytail, but she stopped. Max liked her hair loose, so she would wear it that way. For him. After applying her make up and her perfume, Liz pulled out the box that Maria had packed for her.

Wrapped in the dress, Liz found a minute pair of pale lilac thong panties. Her eyes widened at them, but she couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips. Max would die if he should see them. Not literally, she hoped. The material felt very strange, but oh so erotic when she stepped into them and pulled them up her legs. When the cool cloth pulled against her smooth mound, she purred with delight.

There was a tiny garter belt that matched the panties. Liz wrapped this around her waist and fastened it in front of her, spinning it to place her garters in the right places. Taking the stockings from the packaging, she took extra care not to snag them as she pulled them up her smooth legs and fastened them to the garters. There was no bra.

"I hope he appreciates this," Liz started to feel a little worried about wearing so little under a dress and going out in public in it. She might as well be naked.

She stepped into the shoes, next, walking around the room to get used to them. Regardless of how she felt, when she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, she thought that she looked absolutely gorgeous. And she hadn't even put her dress on yet. Giving a little giggle, she wondered if it would be a good idea to have Max take a picture of her dressed like this and sending it to Kyle. She would write simply, 'Wish you were here? Tough!' She finally pulled on the dress, expecting the worst.

"Oh my god!" she squealed. "I can't wear this!"

Although the dress was short, it was long enough to cover the tops of her stockings. If only just. The bodice was shaped to cover her breasts, but nothing else, and tied behind her neck. It was fitted at the waist and hugged her smoothly. Her back was completely bare. The whole thing was so light, and bouncy, it hardly felt as though she was wearing it. Liz felt totally exposed.

She looked to her wardrobe and glanced longingly at her jeans. No, she shook her head. Max had said that they were not suitable for where he had planned to take her. He had already booked somewhere and she didn't want to spoil his plans. Besides, she had wanted a man, not a boy. Perhaps it was time she grew up and became a woman.

She had to admit, Maria had been right. It would knock his socks off. And with luck, his pants, and his shirt, too. Only, not Kyle's as Maria had thought. Used to wearing jeans, sensible underwear and flat shoes, everything felt strange to Liz. She felt naked. But in a strangely good way. Liz found herself unable to contain herself at the thought of Max's reaction to seeing her dressed like this and she hoped that he would like what he saw. She had fallen for Max in a huge way, and even though they would one day soon go their separate ways, she wanted him to be her first. Years from now, she could talk to her friends and regale them with stories of the time she was seduced by the son of a French Count. Heck, maybe Max could even be a Count. She would tell them how the hot, gorgeous Frenchman seduced her virginity from her on a warm summer's night, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. It was the stuff dreams were made of.

Taking another look in the mirror, she decided that she would be having words with Maria DeLuca. But not tonight. Tonight, she had what was probably the hottest date she had ever had in her entire life, and she might even lose her virginity by the end of it. Maybe dreams can come true.


* * *


Liz floated to the door when she heard Max's knock. She could hardly contain her grin as she opened it to him. They each gazed at the other, neither of them could move, it seemed, and they stood still, each transfixed by the vision before them.

Max was in a dark suit. Another Armani, she wondered? His white shirt was open at the collar, again. She could feel her body reacting to him. There was a catch to her breath and she reminded herself to breathe. Her nipples tightened, pressing against the soft material of her dress making them all too obvious and she could feel herself getting damp. In complete contrast, her mouth was dry.

Max's mouth was opening and closing, for once, lost for words. His eyes burned with passion... hunger... desire... and love. A certain tightening in his lower regions showed that he too was as badly affected as she was. She couldn't help the feeling of power it gave her. Did he feel this power, too?

"Do you want to come in?" she finally found her voice.

"Ah, Liz," he gave a growl that sent shivers down her spine. "Tu es très belle dans cette robe. Tellement, incroyablement sexy."

"Thank you," Liz beamed. "I assume that means you like what you see?"

"Most certainly," he nodded. "And if I am coming in, then we will not be going out of your room again this night. Certainement pas."

"And you look very handsome too," Liz gave a nervous giggle and licked her lips, glossy from the lipstick she was wearing.

"You, Mademoiselle are how you say in English, very beautiful," Max's eyes seemed in a daze. "You are like the papillon, no?"

It was then that she noticed he was carrying something.

"Ah, bien," he nodded. "I have these for you." He handed her a bouquet of white roses. "They are the white, because to me, you are like the pureness of snow, n'est pas? I mean, you have such a way with you."

"Thank you," she inhaled the aroma. "They're wonderful. I think I have a new favorite flower."

"If you do not have the vase, we will ask the concierge for one, no?" Max smiled at her pleasure. "And I have brought this for later." He placed a bottle of red wine on the desk. "And this," Max held up a delicate black lace shawl, "is for you. It belonged to my grand-mère. She made it for her best friend a long time ago, but she never had the chance to give it to her. She gave it to me and said she hoped I would one day find someone worthy of it. And I have, je crois? Perhaps, in years to come, it will help you to remember me and our time in Paris."

Max wrapped the shawl around Liz's shoulders.

"Oh, Max," Liz's eyes started to sting with tears. "I can't accept this."

"You have one already?" he frowned.

"No, but..."

"Then there is no problem," he gave a wave that suggested he would leave it with her, anyway. "You need one and I do not. Now," the look in his eyes appeared again. He used his finger tips to lightly trace Liz's skin at the edge of her dress, from her neck, over the gentle swell of one breast to the 'V', and up over the other. The whole time, his eyes followed his fingers as if entranced. He moistened his lips with his tongue. "We should go before I devour you right here."

Being devoured sounded too good to Liz, right now. She was burning where Max had just touched her. Her thong was already soaked through, but before she could react, Max linked his arm around hers and keeping her close to his side, escorted her down the elevator and out of the hotel.

The night bellboy couldn't believe his eyes as he watched them disappear into the Parisienne evening. He couldn't wait to tell the others of this young woman's transformation.


Liz was glad when Max caught a taxi. Although he had reassured her that she looked fine, she couldn't help worrying that in the métro, she would stand out like a ... well, a slut.

"No," Max shook his head. "You would stand out like a beautiful young woman that you are. In Paris, everyone uses the métro, and your dress she is beautiful. But tonight, she is special and so we use the taxi."

They were dropped off at the Quai Branly, right in front of the Eiffel Tower. While Max paid the driver, Liz was looking up at the iron monster. It was still quite light out, but already, the lights were illuminating it.

"She is beautiful, no?" Max breathed in her ear, making Liz wonder if he meant the tower, or her. "And we will visit with her soon. But tonight, we go this way."

As they approached the riverbank, Liz recognized that paddle steamer she had seen last night.

"Oh, Max," Liz was almost bouncing with joy. "Are we eating here, tonight?"

"Yes," Max placed his hand on the exposed small of Liz's back to guide her up the gangway and onto the boat. "Tonight we dine on La Belle Vallée while we cruise up and down the Seine."

It was, without a doubt, the single most romantic experience of her young life. Chez Pierre in Roswell with Kyle was positively tacky by comparison. After an incredible meal, accompanied by some amazing wine and some very relaxing music, Max led her to the back of the boat where they danced while Paris drifted by. One hand pulled hers to his chest, holding it to his heart. She could feel his muscles ripple beneath his skin. Her throat was dry. Max's other hand teased her exposed skin, leaving her a quivering piece of Jell-O, and oh so flushed and burning with desire; she was amazed that she had not yet spontaneously combusted. Liz did not want it to end, but like all things, it did.

By the time the boat arrived at its mooring, it was dark. Standing on the patio of the Palais de Chaillot, they looked toward the Eiffel Tower, a shining erection of gold that pierced the night sky. Framing it, showers of molted gold sprayed up from the illuminated fountains. Max held her close while the fountains led their eyes across the river to the splendor rising high into the air. She could feel his manly hardness pressing in to her hip.

"Max," she sighed, turning to face him, intent on thanking him for such a wonderful evening.

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers, silencing her. As he started to gently consume her, Liz surrendered to him, melting her whole body into his. She belonged to him, now. While his lips plundered her mouth, his arms embraced her protectively, one hand splayed at the nape of her neck while the other pressed against the side of her rib cage. Her senses reeling, Liz placed one hand on Max's hip and wrapped the other behind him, holding herself up against his very welcome ravishing.

An electric shock charged through her entire being as simultaneous with his tongue requesting an entrance into her mouth, his thumb slid up and down, teasing her swelling breast over the smooth material of her dress. Liz moaned her pleasure into Max's mouth. Her heart was pounding while that thumb continued to drive her crazy, moving with the gentlest of touches that left fire in its wake.

The digit vanished for a moment, causing her to whine her complaint, but when it reappeared, this time, inside her dress, Liz's body exploded. Someone other than herself was touching her sexually. And Liz loved it. Her nipples were boring holes into Max's chest. She could feel his heart pounding, a samba drum beat with hers. His breath, sawing in and out through his nose, was as labored as hers. Still locked in that amazing kiss, the passion burning through Liz was almost unbearable. And then his thumb moved over the soft, crinkled flesh of her aureole and barely touched her pulsating nipple. Centered on her soaking core, a spasm erupted and spread through her body. The first, merest touch of a male's hand, of Max's hand on her nipple had given her an orgasm. She exhaled through her nose in a long, drawn out whine.

She wondered why Max was starting to make his own strange grunting noises that mirrored her own. She suddenly realized that her small hand had moved from Max's hips and was now grasping his own very hard erection through his pants and had been rubbing it at the same pace as his thumb teased here. It felt huge to her. Liz twisted, ignoring his whimper of complaint when she released his hardness, and pushed herself into him. She started to slowly rub herself up and down against him, her heat pressing against his, while his thumb returned and tortured her nipple. As another minor orgasm rocked her body, Liz broke away from the kiss, sucking in much needed oxygen. She looked utterly ravished. Her lips were swollen while her face and her chest were flushed. Her breathing was hoarse and jagged while her voice was husky.

"Take me home, Max," she looked into his eyes that burned with his own desire. "Please! I need you."


* * *


They found a taxi immediately. Max barked the destination to the driver as he pulled Liz into the seat next to him. She looked up, pleading with her eyes to be ravished some more. She didn't care that there was a taxi driver in front of them. How many people had passed them while that had all but made love on that patio? He dipped his lips, kissing her senseless, while Liz writhed beneath him, desperate for another touch of his hands on her burning flesh.


Max thrust the fare into the driver's hand while Liz was urgently pulling him toward the Hotel's entrance. Pressed up against the wall of the elevator, Liz was trembling as Max's hands explored the whole of her breast this time, slipping inside her dress to completely cup her, with her hard nipple pressing into his palm. Desperately, Liz started to grab Max shirt, but his hands appeared and steadied her.

"Ah, Liz," his voice belied his restraint. He was as desperate as she was. "We must slow down, no?"

"No!" Liz barked. "I need you Max! Please! Touch me!"

"The night is young, ma chérie," he groaned. "Our first time together should not be rushed, eh? We should enjoy this. Take pleasure in one another. It must be about l'amour, and not laconvoitise."

"What does that mean?" Liz growled with frustration.

"Love, not lust," his voice murmured against her ear, not helping the flames of passion that were engulfing her. "I want to make love with you, Liz. I want to feel you, see you, enjoy you... cherish you. This must not be about satisfaction only. This must be about us."

They staggered into her room, closing the door behind them. Max turned the TV set on, pressing the handset to set the channel to a music station. At once, the strains of the intro to La Vie En Rose started.

"Belle jeune demoiselle. Aimeriez-vous danser avec moi?" Max held his hand out and gazed longingly into Liz's eyes, burning with desire.

She had no idea what he said, but his action was multilingual. She hurried into his arms. While they danced, one of Max's hands brushed up and down her bare back while another played up and down her side. Liz had both her arms linked behind Max's neck as she held on for dear life. The hand on her side stilled, and his thumb started to tease her again, as he had done by the Eiffel Tower. She placed his lips on hers, giving him a gentle loving caress.

"Max, please!" she urged as his thumb once again feathered against her nipple.

Max's hands began a slow and teasing journey up her back to her dress' fastening behind her neck. With a twist, it was free. The sensation of the material sliding down her body to pool at her feet was electric. Leaving his hands on her shoulders, Max stepped back to look down at her body. In spite of her desire for him, she couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious. Max was the first man to ever see her this way. She twisted and tried to bring her arms up to cover herself.

"No!" his whispered plea stabbed into the night. He stopped her, gently taking both of her wrists in his hands. "There is no need for you to hide yourself from me, Liz, for you are truly beautiful."

Max stepped close to her again, pulling her into an embrace and pressing his lips to hers. His hands once again danced across her exposed skin sending waves of tingling sensations to every nerve in her body. Her naked breasts burning against his suit was a pleasure that was simply driving her crazy. It drove her wild, to think that while she was next to naked, Max was still fully dressed. His hand found her breast again, and his fingers teased her nipple, at once stroking her and then gently pinching her.

Max's other hand found its way to the cleft of her buttocks, teasing the edge of her thong. He gripped the band and gave a light tug. The front of her tiny pants easily slid a little deeper into her soaking lips, providing a little bite against her clitoris, now poking free from its protective hood. It might have been uncomfortable if it hadn't felt so delicious. She couldn't help the deep, throaty moan that escaped her.

"Please, Max," Liz groaned as his hand slid from one full globe to the other. "Touch me, Max. I'm on fire! Touch me there."

"Where, my pretty one?" he smiled at her. "Here?"

His fingers moved from her breast to her shoulder.

"No!" Liz cried out in frustration.

"Or here?" his fingers returned to her nipple, pinching them harder this time.

"Oh!" Liz cried out.


Leading her toward the bed, Max laid her out, her hair fanning out across her pillow. Her eyes were filled with such need, such want. Liz was totally lost to the desire that had burned all of her inhibitions away. She surrendered herself to Max, and he could do with her whatever he wanted. As long as he made love to her.

'Please' her mouth formed, but no sound escaped.

"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, my pretty one." He gazed at her. "Je t'adore."

Laying by her side, Max started to kiss her again. Soft and gentle at first, but more insistently as his tongue darted between her lips and flickered against her own pink appendage. Softly, sensuously, while one hand teased her hair, the other traced deft, feather-light patterns across her breasts, drawing intricate designs that came so close to her aching nipples but then slid away again. Every time he drew near, Liz tried to thrust herself into his touch. She moaned softly when he moved away, her hands clasping and unclasping handfuls of the bed sheets

"Please?" she whispered. "Please?"

Her whole body undulated, writhing beneath Max's caresses as he drove her to the peak of another orgasm.


Before she could climax, however, Max's teasing stopped and his tongue started to trace out a journey that led it along her cheek to the base of her ear. Leaving a glistening, wet trail he continued down the side of her neck, tantalizing the chords formed as she arched her body. He dipped into the depression at the base of her throat and teased her into a series of long, languid sighs before he started his journey again.

His tongue reached the slope of her firm breast with Liz issuing a series of soft mews of encouragement. He slid up the rise, heading for her dark pink summit. As his lips enveloped one nipple his fingers did the same to the other. Liz arched her back again, hissing in sheer pleasure. She cried out in another ecstatic orgasm as Max's tongue rasped across one hard nipple while his fingers squeezed the other.

"Oh, god!" she whimpered, still clutching at the sheets. "Oh, god, Max. Please, I... Please!"

Alternately kissing and suckling on one erect bud, Max then began dragging his tongue across the valley of her breasts to repeat the oh so sweet torture on the other. With her eyes squeezed shut, and her head rolling from one side to the other, Liz was almost constantly moaning.

Then his tongue began another journey. Not across her fleshy pass to treat her other nipple to another hot bath of hedonistic pleasure, but down, a journey that started her heart racing faster still. She bit back the momentary panic of where he was going with this. She had no idea what he was doing, but it felt too good to care. She would surrender herself completely to this man. He could do with her as he wished. He stopped and laved the dip of her navel, his tongue teasing at the fold that a small clamp had left there eighteen years ago. This elicited a strange sensation deep inside her that contrasted deliciously with the burning ardor within her churning, aching chasm, that demanded some urgent form of release.

And then, he was gone again. But this time, his whole body twisted away from her, leaving her with a cold, empty sensation. That feeling vanished seconds later however, when he rolled over her spread thighs and lay between them, inhaling the sweet, heady aroma of her passion. Her hands left the sheets and found her vacated breasts where she started to tease her nipples in the manner that his mouth had just taught her.

"Oh god, Max!" Liz's cry was deep and filled with need. "What are you doing to me?"

Max drew two wet lines above and below her garter belt, still affixed to her stockings. He then drew his tongue down her smooth tummy to the top of her thong. Max planted a soft kiss on the center of her soaked panties, making Liz cry out. He repeated the process, this time, prodding her gently with his extended tongue. She hissed with delight, thrusting her hips at his light touch.

"Oh, Yes!" she cried. "Right there!"

Taking the two sides of her minute panties, Max started to peel the damp cloth from her. In a helpful movement, she lifted her hips to make his task easier. She clearly heard Max's sharp intake of breath when he discovered her surprise, one meant for someone else.

"Oh, mon deau!" he exclaimed in reverence. "Liz! This is just... beautiful."

She was in a daze. A man was looking at her for the first time since she was a baby. And he was seeing her wet, aroused and shaved for pure pleasure. A man whom she wanted to take her, to tear away her virginity. And that man, Max, clearly liked what he saw.


Max's head dipped and she felt his warm, wet tongue slide up her inner thigh from the top of her stocking to just shy of her wet, swollen lips.

"No!" she cried when the touch vanished. "Please! There! Right there!" She moved her hips for emphasis.

The tongue reappeared on her other thigh, and repeated the motion. When he stopped this time, he just changed direction, licking the smooth crease where her thighs joined to her body. He circled her sex, teasing down the other side before hardening to a point and teasing her sensitive perineum.

"Oh, god, Max!" Liz's throaty growl called out as she started to pump her hips. "Yes! Yes! Please! Hurry!"

Max's tongue grazed her outer lips, her first genital touch from another person, her first from a man! She could feel her nectar flowing freely. He lapped it up.

"You taste so sweet, mon amour," Max's voice was soft, and filled with desires of his own. "Like heaven."

He slid into her, like a miniature erection. Liz cried out in sheer unadulterated pleasure.

"Yes! Yes! Oh my god!" She started shaking as another orgasm took her, like the surf over a beach. "Oh, Max!"


Max moved upward, following her wet contours and teasing her silken folds until he stopped just below her pulsing love button. Her hands moved from her pleasuring her now very sensitive nipples to holding his head, her grasping handfuls of his hair. Meanwhile, he danced his tongue in circles around her clitoris and then his lips pinched it, sucking it as he had her nipple. She cried out, arching her back and pressing down on his head. His tongue lapped across her for the briefest of touches, making her gasp again. He descended back to her entrance and after another gentle probe, he moved up again to lick, pinch, suckle and tease her. After he had performed this maneuver a third and then a fourth time, another orgasm sent her whole body into a series of ecstatic spasms as she cried his name out into the night.

"Oh god, Max," she gasped, struggling to speak. "Please... please make love to me now."


Max twisted, sitting up on the bed and started to unbutton his shirt. Liz rose in front of him, her arms pushing his lapels to help shed him of his shirt and jacket at the same time. Her face a mask of passionate womanhood, she locked her lips to his, dragging his tongue to ravish her mouth. When she realized that the strange taste was her own, she paused for a moment, before she continued to kiss him. Kissing Max was just too good to worry about small issues like that.

Max rose from the bed to remove his pants and Liz could now see his naked torso. Her whole body, still suffering from the after tremors of her multi-orgasmic experience, flushed with another wave of desire. Her eyes flew to the straining bulge in his boxer shorts when his pants dropped. He pulled off his socks, his shoes having long since vanished, and then, his hands were at the waistband of his boxers. Liz sucked in her breath and time stood still. Until now, the only real male organ she had seen had been Kyle's, the night she caught him with that slut. But now here was another, springing free as he pushed the silk garment down. It was very naked, very hard and by comparison with what she had seen, very large. And it was right in front of her, just for her.

"Oh, Max," she groaned, reaching out a tentative hand. She pulled it back again. "You're beautiful."

"And so are you, mon petit ange," he smiled. "So together, we will make good lovers, no?"

"Yes," Liz nodded dreamily.


Completely naked, Max sat next to Liz who was still clad in her stockings, and started to kiss her, softly and tenderly, while his hands caressed her breasts. He eased her back down onto the bed.

"And now, ma belle Liz," he gazed at her with adoration. "Now, I will make love to you, no?"


Yes, Max," Liz sighed. "Yes. Make love to me Max. Make me a woman. Please?"

Easing between her thighs, bare skin to bare skin, his throbbing manhood easily found the entrance to her wet bower. As soon as he met with her wet flesh, he couldn't help groaning. Liz cried out, wrapping her arms around his neck. With his eyes fixed firmly upon hers, he eased into her slowly, her hot, wet walls expanding to accommodate him, to grip him. She inhaled sharply.

"Oh, Max," she moaned.

He saw the worry in her eyes before he felt the reason.

"Liz?" he looked surprised. "Are you a virgin?"

"Please, Max," Liz begged. "Please make me yours. Love me, Max. I don't care. Just... Please make love to me."

"This will hurt a little," his voice was filled with care. "But I promise you that the pain, she will be gone vite. And then I hope you will feel only pleasure."


Max pressed against her maidenhead. With a quick, sharp thrust of his hips. Liz was no longer a virgin and she and Max were lovers. As predicted, the pain was sharp, but fleeting. The sensations caused as he filled her to capacity easily overrode the pain."

"Oh, merci, ma belle Liz," Max gazed into her eyes. "Merci pour ce merveilleux cadeau!"

When he was in as far as he could go, he allowed her a moment to get used to the sensation and then sure that she was ready for him, he started to ease out of her, leaving her sighing with pleasure. Using long, slow strokes, Max continued to fill her while her tight walls continued to clutch at his hardness. With each complete thrust, the crescendo of her pleasure was raised another notch. The increase in his tempo told Liz that he was reaching his own culmination in pleasure. He was trying to match his with hers. Liz was mewing with pleasure, her high pitched whines harmonized with Max's own lower groans.

"Oh, Max!" Liz cried, her body going rigid and then starting to vibrate. "Coming! I'm coming!" Her cry stretched out, rising in pitch as she approached her explosive climax.

"Oh, Liz," Max gasped. His voice sounded strange. "Me too. Come with me, mon bébé."

Max stopped, filling Liz completely, his body going tense, a counterfoil to her constant vibrations. They shared their orgasms together with Liz's nails digging into Max's back while she screamed his name at the top of her lungs. She felt his manhood pulsating within her, over and over as he filled her with his seed. As they started to gather their senses, Max started to shower kisses over her face. Holding each other, still reveling in the sensations their newfound closeness had brought them, Liz nuzzled her lips into Max's neck. She planted soft kisses against him, smiling blissfully.

"Je t'aime, Elizabeth," Max sighed. "Je t'aime."


* * *


Completely naked together, they lay on Liz's bed in the pale illumination from the outside ambient light. Max was on his back, gazing at Liz who was sprawled across his chest, her forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. Her free hand caressed his shoulder while he ran a hand from the nape of her neck, down her spine to the cleft of her gorgeous backside.

"Happy Independence Day, Liz," Max kissed the top of her head.

She looked up and smiled. She had forgotten that today was the Fourth of July. And he had been right in more ways than one. Liz had crossed her Rubicon and there was no way she could ever go back to Kyle. Not now. That part of her life was over and she had secured her freedom. She did not regret her actions this evening one iota.

"Was it good for your first time, ma chérie?" Max's voice was filled with concern.

"Oh, Max," Liz gave a dreamy sigh. "It was fantastic. Thank you. It couldn't have been more perfect."

"Bon! Then if you enjoyed it so much," he smiled at her, his finger pressing into her cleft, "perhaps you would like to try it again, no?"

"Oui," Liz nodded, licking her lips. "How would you say that? In French, I mean."

"Je voudrais essayer,encore."

"Yes, please!"


* * *

Hi everyone!

I hope that I'm not in the doghouse for missing last week's posting, but I do hope I can be forgiven, seeing as I gave you half a dozen of so chapters of Christmas festivities to tide you over.

Becaue of my hectic schedule right now, I'm not going to thank you all idividually. I hope you can forgive me for this, too. But thank you so much for your great feedback and continued support.


Running Authors Note.
When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 6 - A Right Shower


Tuesday - July 5th, 2005


To the sounds of the Parisienne morning traffic, ten stories below, Liz slowly awoke, laying naked on her bed. This had started to become a habit. She had never slept naked before and now two nights running... A breeze blew in from the open French doors, sending a tantalizing chill down her body. She gave a shy smile at the memory of last night's lovemaking with Max and she wondered if they had been heard through the open doors. They had made love three times until, worn out and satiated from countless orgasms, Liz had drifted off into a deliciously wonderful dream where Max was a tireless dynamo.

"Mmmmmm" she sighed, stretching her lithe body.

That was when she noticed that Max was not in her bed.

"Max?" Liz called, a little coyly which felt a little foolish, considering all that they had shared. "Are you there?"

Naked, she padded to the doorway onto the balcony and looked outside. He was not there. Frowning, she went to the bathroom, knocking first, just in case. When she heard no answer, she opened the door and peered inside. Max was not there. There was no sign at all of him in her room with the exception of the flowers, now in a vase on the table, the bottle of red wine on the desk, and the black shawl he had given her on the floor, near the door.

A sudden feeling of shame swept over Liz. She felt used, and dirty.

"Now that he's got what he wanted," tears started to fall, "he's probably skipped on to his next conquest."

Fighting back the overwhelming need to cry, Liz staggered into the bathroom, hoping to shower herself clean of his touch. But what a touch it had been, a small voice reminded her. If you never see him again, it still would have been worth it for last night's experience alone.

After thoroughly showering herself, Liz ignored the shaving razor and started to towel herself dry. Still naked and her hair still damp, Liz returned to her room where she climbed to the middle of her bed. Sitting up, she replayed the most incredible night of lovemaking and started to weep.

"Perhaps it's me," she whispered to the room. "As soon as I fall in love with someone, he moves on."


There was a rattling of a key at her door and it started to open. Her first reaction was a momentary panic. After all, she was still naked and pretty defenseless. But a split second later, Max entered her room with his arms full.

Upon seeing her sitting on her bed and weeping, Max put down the bag and the box he was carrying, and rushed to her side, scrambling up onto the bed to join her.

"Ah, Liz," his voice was filled with concern as he pulled her into his embrace. "What is it? What is the matter, ma chérie. Pourquoi pleures-tu?"

"Oh, Max," she collapsed against him. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought you'd left me. I thought that now that you got what you wanted, you went to find someone else."

"Oh, mon bel ange," his hands were caressing her skin. "I would never do that. I said that I am your guide for Paris, remember? And I don't believe that you have seen her yet, no?"

"But you were gone," she wiped her eyes.

"Oui," he nodded. "This is true. I woke up earlier, and I realized that I have no clothes for changing. So I went out to find the market stalls who are setting up now and bought a shirt and some boxers, n'est pas? And then I am going to a little pâtisserie down the road that sells the best croissants in the whole of Paris." He pinched his fingers and thumb together and kissed them. "And then I am picking up the coffees so that we may have our petit déjeuner together in your room, no?"

"Oh," Liz raised her eyes at Max, feeling a little embarrassed that she had written him off so easily.

"But I am glad," his voice fell to concern again, "that your sadness is from such foolishness, and not because you are regretting last night."

"Oh, no," Liz shook her head in wonder. "Last night was wonderful, and I would never regret it. It was... I was just sad that I might never see you again."


"And so," he continued. "Now that you are seeing me again, and it is morning, how are you feeling?"

"Uh, pretty good, actually," she grinned. "Why?"

"Well," he shrugged. "Last night, you were a virgin, and I thought..."

"Max," Liz smiled, placing her hand to the side of his face. "So you tore a membrane and did something to me that no man has ever done before. A little pain, a little blood... I'll survive." She started to giggle.

"And for that," he smiled, placing his hand over hers. "I am glad. I am glad to have been your first, I am glad that I have for you made it so good, but I am only sorry that you were not my first. If I had known that one day, I would meet you; I would have waited for you."

"That's lovely, Max," she nodded thoughtfully. "It would have been nice, you know, romantic. But in a way, I'm glad that you were much more experienced than me. You made my first time magical for me, Max. In the way that another virgin fumbling about could never have done. I will never forget last night for as long as I live. So... thank you."

"Ah, no, Liz," he shook his head. "It is I who must thank you. And now, we must discuss something else no?" A look of worry appeared on his face. "Something that has been worrying me since half of the night. Not for me, but for you." He looked at her as though he was in some pain. "Liz, in the passion of last night's acte d'amour, I did not make use of the condom!" He held one up to show her that he had them.

"Oh," Liz started to grin. "No, no, no, Max? You don't have to worry. You know?" She started to bounce across her bed. She crossed the room to her desk and produced her blister pack of contraceptive pills. She popped one out and put it in her mouth. "Because I take birth control pills, Max."

"It relieves me that your life will not be complicated by a little one, mon amour," he nodded, looking relieved for her, "but you must know that if I was responsible, you would not have been alone. And for myself, I know that you were a virgin, Liz, so I do not need to fear. But you. Perhaps you are worried for your health?"

"Should I be, Max?" she bounced back onto the bed next to him.

She wasn't sure what to think. She had gone against her nature and allowed this gorgeous man to seduce her, to make passionate love to her, so perhaps it was true that he had gone against his nature too. Perhaps he had seduced her when ordinarily, he wouldn't have done such a thing? Perhaps he had been caught up in the moment and had been acting out of character, too?

"No," he shook his head. "Before last night, I have only ever been with two partners, the last one was two years ago."

Liz was surprised. He was so gorgeous, what woman wouldn't want to be with him? She had seen the way other women looked at him. Why had he been celibate these past two years?

"And all the times," he continued, "I make with the condom."

"So I was the first person you've ever made love to without one?" Liz couldn't help grinning.

"Mais oui!" Max nodded vigorously.

"So in a way, I was your first. Oh, Max!" she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly.

She started kissing him, and he started responding.


"You said something about breakfast," Liz finally released him.

"Ah, yes," he nodded not looking unaffected. "I have brought for you the finest croissants in the whole of Paris."

"Yeah, I got that," she rolled her eyes.

Max extricated himself from Liz and went to the box he had put down when he had come in. Inside the box were four croissants and two steaming cups of coffee in cardboard cups with plastic lids.

"Sadly," he sighed. "They do not give you the real cups when you take the coffee away."

"There's a problem Max," Liz picked up a coffee and looked up at him.

"There is?" he frowned. "I do not think so. I have the coffee and the croissants. We do not need butter because they are already too good to need it. No. What is wrong?" He looked back at Liz.

"The fact that you have way too many clothes on for breakfast," she grinned.

"Ah, Liz," he gave her a grin filled with affection. "I can see that in you, I have unleashed a terrible little diable, no?"


* * *


When he joined her again on the bed, this time naked like her, Liz couldn't help giggling at his erection poking up. Her mouth went dry and she had to resist the temptation to take a closer look at Max's amazing body or they wouldn't be eating their breakfast any time soon.

"You were not laughing at him last night," Max tried to sound outraged, but he failed.

"No," she agreed. "And I still think you're beautiful, Max. But... I can't help feeling a little... I mean, you're the first man I've ever seen naked, let alone touched, and... well, you know."

"And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Liz."

"Really?" her blush extended from her toes to the roots of her chocolate brown tresses. "You're not just saying that because we... you know?"

"Absolument pas!" Max shook his head with sincerity. "No, I have truly never felt like this about anybody before."

"Like what?" Liz held her breath.

"Si seulement tu savais," Max sighed. "Now, are you interested in laughing at me some more or would you like to be eating the croissants?"


"Yes please," Liz nodded with enthusiasm, her eyes a little glassy over his use of French compliments.

She might not have understood what he was saying, and knowing that he would be saying only nice things, she decided not to show her small town 'hickness' by constantly asking him what he had just said. He would tell her if he believed she needed to know.

Max reached for the box and pulled off a large piece of croissant. He lifted it to Liz's mouth. She leaned forward and took the morsel from him, ensuring that she sucked his fingers again.

"Ohhhh..." she sighed as the flavor exploded in her mouth. "That 'is' good." She finished her mouthful and tore off another piece. "My turn."

"Moment," he stopped her, holding up his hand.

Max leaned toward her, his head dipping toward her breast. Looking down, Liz saw that some large buttery flakes of the pastry had fallen and now clung to her breast, just above her nipple. Max's lips enveloped the flakes and her nipple both, his tongue taking the flakes and then her bud. Always damp, she was soaking gain.

"Oh!" she sighed.

Liz then fed Max, and reciprocated when some flakes landed on his chest. And then Max fed some more to her. When a large flake landed on the tip of his erection, they both stared at it for a moment and then at each other. Max had a sly smile on his face.

"You're on your own, pal," Liz laughed.

More flakes fell on Liz and Max didn't stop when he had cleaned them all from her. He was teasing her breasts and her nipples non-stop. Laughing with glee, Liz rolled back on her bed. Max rolled with her, kissing, caressing and teasing. She ended up pinned beneath him, with her legs spread either side. They stopped, their eyes locked on to one another. Liz reached her arms up and placed her hands beneath Max's ears.

"Please, Max," she whispered.

She felt his hardness press against her wet lips, but he stopped.

"Condom," he groaned.

"No," Liz thrust herself at him, hissing when she felt him enter her. "Just make love to me, Max. Just make... love to me."

It was short, sweet and very tender. They climaxed together, their cries drowned by the morning rush hour.


They finished their breakfast together, in comfortable silence. They fed each other, they fed themselves, but they didn't lose control a second time.

"That has never happened to me before," Max confessed as he finished his coffee. "Never have I come at the same time. I am usually the first. But with you, it has happened every single time, no? Perhaps we are âmes soeurs? Soul mates."

"I hope so," Liz couldn't contain her grin.

Her eyes suddenly widened and she pressed her hand to her wet sex.

"Eew," she grimaced. "I'm leaking."

"It was you who insisted that we do not use the condom," Max laughed. "At least it has the use for one thing."

Liz rose from her bed, and with her hand still in place, headed for the bathroom. She stopped at the door and looked at Max who was still chuckling.

"Max?" she called to him in a seductive voice. "Will you scrub my back?"

Max was at her side like a rocket.


* * *


Holding hands, they walked into the shower cubicle together. Liz turned the water on and then stood beneath the powerful jets. She watched him for a moment, as the water started to gather and run in droplets from his warm, wet skin. When she looked up at him, his eyes were burning, examining her as she had been him. Without any given signal, their heads moved together and their lips met. As they attacked each other's mouths, Liz brought her hand up to cup Max's jaw line.

"You could use a shave," she giggled.

"But I have no razor," he shrugged. "And no foam."

With a wicked gleam in her eye, Liz reached for her own shaving gel. She squirted out a pool of the green gel and with a laugh, started to rub it into Max's face and neck, covering his bristles with a white lather. When she stepped back to admire her handiwork, Max reached for her ladies razor. Grinning at her, he started to lift it to his face.

"No," Liz touched his hand.

She was so pretty naked. Such a firm body and those amazing taut breasts capped with those perfect nipples that hardened like diamonds when she was aroused. Lost in his thoughts, she took the razor from his hand, sliding behind him.

"Let me do that for you," her hot voice purred over his ear.

So what if she cut his face to ribbons?

Reaching past him, she held the razor to the shower jets. She slowly slid her hand back up his chest to his face. Her left hand rested in the center of his chest making sure that she just barely touched his back with her breasts. She could feel his immediate reaction as he took a deep, ragged breath. She guessed that he loved the feeling of her skin upon his.

"Ahh," he gasped as the cold steel was pressed to his cheek and she slowly slid it down, scraping away the foamy lather and the stubble with it.


While she shaved him, she would make sure to never lose contact between them. As she worked, she rubbed her hard nipples up and down his back when she stretched to reach his face and then again to wash the razor. She didn't move her left hand, just letting it rest on his chest, preventing him from moving away. She could feel his heartbeat speeding up as she continued to shave him.

Each time she passed the razor over his face, he could feel her lowering herself against him. The points of her nipples kept on sliding against his back as she slowly slid down his skin, and then up again, moving in perfect grace. His manhood was a raging tower of steel.

She continued to shave him, gliding the sharp steel against his skin while sheathing his body with her own. She slowly ran the blade down his face, washed the blade and then back to his face. Rinse and scrape, rinse and scrape and all the while, Liz's nipples teased his back. Max was losing himself in the pure sensuality of her movements.

Liz moved her left hand from his chest and up to his forehead. Max leaned into her touch. Under her guidance, he let his head roll back, stretching and exposing his neck to the steel. He gave in to her touch, letting the world go and just being there with her.

"You have heard of the Madame Guillotine?" Max swallowed. "No?"

"Hush!" Liz scolded with a smile. "Keep still."

The steel appeared on his throat again but this time, he was aware of a new sensation. Her breath was on his ear. It was as deep and as ragged as his own. But she continued to scrape and rinse.

Liz let go of his forehead and slowly slid her hand all the way down his chest, then his stomach until she brushed against his hardness, causing him to inhale sharply.

"What have we here?" she whispered up into his ear.

In an act of incredible dexterity that Max could never have achieved himself, Liz continued to scrape and rinse with one hand while she started to stroke his erection in time to her razor with the other. Scrape, stroke, rinse, stroke. He was lost in the pure pleasure of it.

"Ah, mon dieu, Liz," Max groaned.

"Shhhh," she replied.

Her tongue flickered over his ear and he felt himself rising towards his eruption. His breathing grew more labored and with the razor still stroking his throat, he had to resist the natural temptation to lean forward. Feeling her little hand wrapped around him, deftly encouraging him towards his climax, he could not help but let go. Just as his orgasm approached, she stopped.

"I think you learn a little too well, mon amour," Max groaned.


But Liz was not finished yet. Turning him to face her, she looked up into his face, raising her hand to assist with the examination of her handiwork. Looking deep into Max's eyes, seeing the lingering need there, she reached up and left a hot, searing kiss on his lips. As he tried to deepen it, she moved away.

Liz kissed Max at the base of his ear and then on his neck, leaving a series of kisses in a trail that followed a jagged trickle of water to his collar bone and down his chest to his crinkled nipple. Liz opened her mouth over Max's nipple and ran the flat of her tongue over it, as he had done to her often enough.

"Oh, bébé," Max growled.

She started to nip it with her teeth and then suck on it, as if to mark him for her own. She then darted her tongue across it in feather light touches.


Max was panting. One of his hands steadied himself against the wall while the other laced through her wet hair, not to guide or push her, but merely to touch her. While she kissed left his nipple and moved across his incredible taut muscles of his abdomen, Liz's hands started to explore him, slowly moving to his back. As she lowered herself, Liz was resting on her haunches, her knees spread while she gazed at Max's erection. With her hands caressing his tight buttocks, Liz cautiously extended her tongue and touching the pre-cum fluids that were leaking copiously from his 'eye'. She seemed to find nothing wrong with his taste.

"C'est si bon, Liz," Max groaned. "Oh, yes."

She explored him more, caressing her hand over the head. Holding it upright, she placed a few kisses along the shaft while her other hand cradled his testicles. She kissed them, next, and then moved up to press a kiss through his dark curls to his pubic bone. Her hand was caressing his hard length, exploring him.

"I still think you're beautiful," she whispered.

"Ah, Liz," he whispered back.

Looking up with a smile, she saw that Max was gazing down with an amazed look on his face. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she watched the golden flecks melt with raw passion as she placed her tongue over the ridge around the head, and lightly licked. Her mind delving into her memories all of the girl's locker room conversations she had overheard, never dreaming that she might one day want to mimic their behavior she once thought slutty. But here, in front of Max, she thought it was a wonderful way of showing her desire... her need to please him. Their words of boastfulness came back to her as instructions.

Liz engulfed as much of his manhood as she could into her mouth. She left it like that for a moment, just allowing him to feel the wetness and the warmth of her mouth. Max moaned with what sounded to Liz like pure ecstasy at being buried in her mouth. She slowly started to lick the head and around his crest, paying close attention to the frenulum, the V-shaped ridge under the head that had Max gasping.

Liz wrapped her thumb and forefinger around his base and while she slowly started to ease his monster out, her hand made gentle rubbing motions, up and down, no more than an inch.

"Liz," Max groaned. "Oh, Liz."

His erection was nearly all the way out now, and she swirled her tongue around his dome. She moved her head so that his hardness was sliding between her lips while her tongue danced figure eight circles underneath him.

"Max," she pulled away for a moment. "Am I making you feel good, Max?"

"Mais bien sûr!," he nodded frantically, his eyes glued to her every motion. "Of course you are."


She started to lick the head again, probing the very tip with her tongue in a sensual whirl that practically made him sing. She licked his shaft, gathered his testicles in her free hand and then took all of him in her mouth again swallowing when she felt her gag reflex.

"Liz!" Max cried out. "Oh, Liz!"

She moved slowly at first and then quickened the speed, using the hand at the base of his shaft to help.

"Je vais jouïr!" he cried, "I am coming for you, Liz."

He was warning her, she knew. He was leaving the decision to her. She moved so that only the tip was in her mouth. Her tongue continued its dance while her hand continued its ministrations.

"Oh, Liz!" he cried. "Liz!"

Pushing back down on him, she felt his orgasm, as burst upon burst of a fiery liquid hit the back of her throat. She continued to milk him as he came. The conversations in the changing room hadn't prepared her for this, however, and although she desperately wanted to honor him by swallowing him, as she pulled her mouth off of him, she started choking. Most of it was lost in shower of water and washed away.

"I'm sorry," she looked up at him, her eyes sorrowful.

Her head was cradled against his groin and she was still holding him and rubbing the tip of his manhood against her cheek.


"You have nothing to be sorry about," he reassured her, caressing her face before pulling her up to her feet.

Max kissed her. A solid, loving kiss of gratitude and amazement. If he tasted himself on her lips, he gave no indication.

"Tu es si étonnante," he smiled at her.

She couldn't help the shudder that coursed through her. Hearing him speak French was electric, even if she did have to guess at the meaning. It was pretty clear that whatever he said, it was complimentary.

"There," Liz smirked, caressing his smooth jaw line. "You look much sexier now. And it will be a lot easier on my thighs." Her eyes sparkled.

"I see," he nodded. "It is always about you."

They both laughed together.

"And now, I think I must return the favor, no?"

"I don't need a shave, Max," Liz giggled, running her hand across her face.

"Perhaps not there," he smiled, touching her cheek. "But here?" He slid his hand up her leg. "And perhaps... here?" His hand cupped her sex, dripping with her own wetness as well as from the shower. "You would like the help, no?"

Liz didn't trust her self to speak. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded her head, her eyes wide with wonder. Liz leaned back against the cool wall of the shower cubicle. She couldn't trust herself to stand upright unaided. The heat was invading every inch of her. Through half lidded eyes, Liz watched Max take a fresh razor from her shelf and returned with the gel. She couldn't help smiling at the look on his face. He was like a child who had just been given the keys to a toy store. His eyes roamed every inch of her body, making her shiver in spite of the warmth.


Starting at her eyes, Max slowly looked down over her body, taking in the outlines of her shoulders, the gentle swell of her breasts, lingering over her nipples, hardening under his gaze and the cool air. He continued his inspection, down over her flat stomach, her belly button and the smooth mound that had brought them both so much pleasure. Feeling his gaze, she subconsciously thrust her hips. She saw his tongue slide out, licking his lips ever so slightly.

Liz widened her stance, spreading her legs so that he could see her already swollen lips. His smile widened as he leaned over, placing his hand against her inner thigh. The heat from his hand was intense as he curled his fingers under her. They just brushed her lips, causing her to sigh with pleasure. But his hands slid away.


Kneeling before her, Liz groaned with frustration when she felt Max lift her leg, rather than performing the act she desperately needed. She had to hold onto his shoulders for support. He squirted some gel onto her leg and with her foot resting on the top of his thigh, inches from his throbbing erection, he started to rub the gel over her skin, letting his hands roam upward toward her wet sex, stopping just as his fingers barely touched her.

"Max!" her whisper was an urgent plea.

While one hand remained at the top of her thigh, his finger tips just touching her wetness, his other picked up the razor and with careful, but, confident strokes, slid the cold, hard metal against her skin. It was like pure electricity shooting through her body. His strokes left a clean pink stripe, totally and completely devoid of lather and bristles. He double-checked his work after each stroke by running a finger back over the newly exposed flesh.

"So smooth," he whispered to her, looking up. "So soft."

All she could see was desire in his eyes, and she wondered if he would ever finish the task. But he looked back down and continued his self appointed duty, this time pushing her knee to one side - which also opened herself to him - and reaching to the back of her thigh. When the razor appeared at the top of her thigh, close to her pussy lips, her gasp was sharp and loud. He pressed the edge of the razor against them, the cold steel against her intimate flesh started a series of small spasms as he pulled the razor away. Again and again, he teasingly touched her until he finished her leg.


After scooping handfuls of water to rinse the remaining lather from her smooth treasure, Max slid his finger into her center, smiling at the pleasure reflected in her face as he stared to work it in and out of her wetness. Her velvet lining sucked at him. Pulling it from her, he slid it all the way down her inner thigh, over her knee and down to her ankle.

"We are almost à la moitié," his husky voice croaked. "Half way, no?"

Liz could only nod. Her voice was not responding to any commands her brain was able to give. Taking her foot and placing it back on the floor, Max lifted the other, placing it on his other thigh.

It was a blur, for Liz. As he repeated his actions on her other leg, including inserting a finger into her when he was finished, Liz's breaths were coming out hoarse, ragged and filled with lusty moans. It was all she could do not to attack Max and mount him right there.

"And now we are presque fini," he was so close, she could feel his hot breath on her.

He reached for the shaving gel again. A shudder raced through Liz as he sprayed the gel into his hand. Staring up into her eyes, watching the sheer desire flame and burn, he started to massage the cool creamy lather over her aching mound.

"Oh, my god," Liz howled. "Max, please! Just... Oh god, please! I need you."

"Bientôt," he chuckled. "Like you do not want my whiskers to burn your thighs, I would like to keep my face from being scratched, no?"

"You have such a way with words," Liz gasped as his finger ran the length of her opened flower.


When she felt the bite of the icy steel against her most sensitive skin, Liz let go. Her voice echoed through the bathroom as she babbled incoherently. Completely exposed to his gaze, to his touch, Max had total control of her and she didn't care. Lust flooded her veins, threatening to burst as the sharp blade smoothed her flesh to his gaze. His fingers teased her lips as he moved around the delicate petals. Her eyes widened with a squeal when his fingers teased her other passage and the blade moved around it. And then, the worst... or perhaps best of all, his finger was right on her clitoris, driving her crazy as he scraped the hard to reach area. She was a quivering wreck by the time he had completed the task.

"Liz," he murmured, placing a kiss against the smooth skin. "I have never met such an amazing woman as you. Vous êtes mon amour, ma vie. Say that you will stay with me in Paris for all time."

"Oh, yes," Liz gasped, her flames consuming her totally.


When she felt his tongue flicker against her, she cried out and losing all of her strength, started to slide down the shower wall. Her legs spread either side of him as he moved to lay down and press his lips to her. Her juices poured from her as his strong hands moved to hold her bottom, pulling her sex tight to his mouth, his tongue lapping her.

"Max!" she cried, her hips rolling as she thrust her pelvis at him. "Oh, Max!"

"Come for me, bébé," he paused only long enough to urge. "Come for me my little one."


Screaming in ecstasy, she flooded his mouth with her sweet climax. Hearing her cry, his tongue became like a demon, flickering over her most secret of places. Digging as deep as possible into her heated depths only to return again and again, easing a little every time, until finally, he finished with a flicker of his tongue over her lips.

Smiling at her dazed expression from her countless orgasms, Max stood up and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her like she was his most treasured possession, he stood under the shower jets, letting the water wash their burning flesh.

"Je t'aime, ma chérie, Liz."


* * *

Hi Everyone...

Here we are again, all eager to get to the hot bits, huh?

It definately was achallenge, writing adult scenes that women would find... 'readable' but with Jen and Jeannine's help, I guess I'm doing okay.

Thank you for your great feedback and thank you for reading my stories.

Just a quick question to my French readers. A number of you expressed concern over how I would treat Paris. How am I doing so far?


dreamer destiny - Uh oh. That's one side effect I never counted on.

AJK001 - Or shaving, huh???

Gater101 - You know, if you can find one, you can have him. But better not tell everyone. LOL

BehrObsession - Yes, I think you're right. Head over heal in love and afraid to come clean (if you'll pardon the pun )

Emz80m - AND steamy!

SmileeUk - Glad to hear it

smokie - Shower manufacturers have issued me with a writ.

Behrsgirl1230 - Well... IF they dated in real life, I wonder if fact would have been stranger than fiction?

ISLANDGIRLS - Yup, Just Max and Liz and a bar of soap. (Max: Where's the soap? Liz: Yes, it does. Doesn't it? )

lazza - Who cares about the secrets right now, huh?

vampyrax - She's still learning though

roswellluver - Thank you

POM - Thank you

Ellie - Updates once a week, as long as it doesn't interfere with my writing of Red Shift, which is and will always be, my priority.

NorafanofMaxandLiz - Oh yes! Showers can be very fun with the right person. Shame a ertain dark haired younf lady ie never around when I have one. Uhm... Yes. People do have that much fun in a shower. Erm {blush} kind of wrote that from experience {blush}

Jason's Lover Thank you

begonia - YOu mean people speaking English excites you? No wonder you speak it so well. (oh my!) LOL (sorry )

Michelle in Yonkers - Well... as long as you enjoy the writing, then I'm glad that I put so much effort into keeping it romantic rather than just plain , erm... porn. As for Max and his sweet nothings, I'm thiking he means them.

martine - Well, she did give up her virginity, and I think she would have expected to find him still there at least in the morning. Being alone forced her to consider that he had used her, in the same way Kyle had.

Erina - Two weeks seems such a long way away! Let's cross that 'pont' when we come to it.

g7silvers - Thank you

MamaDee52 - Okay, 'fess up. How many times did you read that chapter? Did I or did I not warn you that it was HOT? As fors a second visit from Santa, I love in hope. You might have already noticed my thing for erm, stockings.

Smac - Greenpeace are considering hiring me to help with reducing the use of fossile fuels

Shadowlynxbehr - Well, thank you very much Glad you enjoyed it.

frenchkiss70 - And the best part is... it doesn't end there!

anonymousarfan - Thank you



Running Authors Note.
When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 7 - Shop Till You Drop


Tuesday - July 5th, 2005


"This," Max indicated the exterior of the huge department store, "is Au Printemps."

Two ornate, rounded towers framed a huge, elegant and very old building.

"It's incredible," Liz gasped, holding Max's hand while staring up at the huge building. "Max, this is awesome."

"I am thinking," Max continued, "that this is like your Macys in New York. Over seven floors for you to buy the dresses to drive me crazy with, no? And the lingerie..." Max placed his free hand over his heart, slapping it up and down to mimic a rapid heart beat. "Mon dieu. It is enough to drive a man to a heart attack." Max grinned at her, his eyes flashing.

"And what makes you think I'm buying these things to please you?" Liz glanced at him archly.

"No, no, no," Max shook his head. "If it is not for me then I am taking you back for your jeans, no?" He smirked. "But you are right. You must be buying to please yourself. And if it pleases you, then it pleases me, so that 'I' can please you. Ca va?"

"Bien," Liz nodded, her face smiling brightly as she melted in to him. "Oh, and Max?"

"Oui?"

"Je t'aime aussi," she smiled, leaving him with a huge surprised smile on his face.

"You are learning well, mon petit," he caught up to her and took her hand again.

"I have a great teacher," Liz cast a shy smile at him. "Come. We shall shop now, no."

"Oui," Max grinned. "Ne sois pas trop sûre de toi, eh?"

Liz started to laugh, totally lost.

"Oui," she answered anyway.


* * *


It was like nothing Liz had ever seen before. She stood inside the main entrance and shook her head, wishing that Maria could be with her to experience this. But then again, if Maria had been with her, she would never have shared last night, or this morning with Max. In fact, if Maria had been with her, she probably wouldn't have even met Max. She reminded herself to thank Pam for unwittingly sending her into the arms of the hottest young man she would ever meet.

Seven floors of the latest fashion was a lot, even for Liz. She had entered a world of the most creative designers. Walking though the boutiques of Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci and Celine was an exquisite pleasure for her eyes and her wardrobe, but not one for her Grandmother's credit card bill. Liz fervently hoped that her grandmother loved her as much as she said she did.

She found other designers, too. Dolce & Gabbana, Moschino, Sonia Rykiel, DNKY, and names that she had never heard of, whom Max said were French, Vanesso Bruno, Zadig and Voltair, and Kenzo.

In shoes, Liz found such names as Sergio Rossi, Miu Miu, Prada as well as Adidas and Puma. The fragrant Parfumeri was filled with the eternally seductive scents of Yves Saint Laurent, Dior and Chanel. She also met such fantastic names as Lancôme, Sisley, Bylgari and L'Occitane.

At the many cosmetics counters, Liz was confronted with hundreds of different brands of beauty accessories and face and body care products. Chanel, Esthée Lauder, Clinique and Claris were but a few. They had arrived in this department just as one of the demonstrators was about to teach a small group of English speaking tourists, the art of make up application to enhance, not mask, natural beauty.

"You enjoy this," Max winked at her. "I have a little errand to run, no?"


Half an hour later, after Max had returned from his errand, they reached the most... interesting part of the tour when they entered the Lingerie department. There were all kinds of beautiful lingerie. La Perla, Dior, Triumph, Chantelle and Calvin Klein all revealed their seductive secrets. Liz had never seen anything like it. All manner of shapes, sizes, colors and types. From corsets that looked like they could hold watermelons to tiny ribbons that looked as useful as a chocolate teapot. Some were simple shelves while others had holes in the middle of the cups. And the panties! From full blown bloomers all the way down to tiny strips of material that had to be purely decorative only. Some even had splits along the gusset. Liz giggled at those. Was there even any point in wearing any at all?

"I know one thing, though," Liz whispered to Max. "I'll have to buy them without trying them on and hope they all fit."

"Pourquoi?" Max frowned.

"Because around you," she smiled lustily into his eyes, "I'm just too wet."

"Really?" his eyes sparkled.

"Really," she confirmed, rubbing her hot body against him. "And it's all your fault, you know. You are too damned sexy, Monsieur."

"Elle causera ma mort," Max shook his head, scurrying to catch up with her while she investigated a deliciously tiny thong.

Whatever lingerie she selected to buy, she made sure that Max did not see it.

"Let me have 'some' surprises," she smiled at him.

"Liz," he looked into her eyes, holding her hands in his over his heart. "You surprise me moment by moment. You are stupéfiant. Breathtaking."

They dined in La Terrase, one of the many restaurants with the store. It was on the roof, affording the two of them an incredible view of Paris while they ate.


* * *


Liz spent the rest of the afternoon trying on dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes. Some, she asked Max's opinion on, other's she relied on the opinions of whichever sales assistant was nearby. All Max knew was that there was a growing stack of clothing appearing at a central desk with her name on it. But he did not care at all. If Liz was having fun, so too, was he.

"Mrs. DuVille," someone called across from a counter. "Mr. Arnaud needs to see you in his office right away. He needs to go over the stock control figures from last night."

Madame DuVille was the only assistant working in the department at the moment. She had been helping the young couple, who was in turn, helping to swell her commission earnings by the moment.

"I am sorry," she shrugged at Max. "I'm likely to be gone some time. If you need any help, Miss Dacourt will try, but she can't leave the cash register unattended."

"Merci," Max nodded. "Go and see what your boss needs. I think we are nearly finished here anyway."

Max watched her walk away. He turned to the changing cubicle that Liz was currently trying on some dresses. With a sly grin on his face, Max took a look around, opened the door and slipped inside.

"Max!" Liz gasped.

She was standing in front of him in a wine red dress with spaghetti straps. She had removed her bra so that she could see how it looked. Max's eyes were drawn to her hard nipples leaving two small bumps in the dark material.


"Shhhh," Max pressed a finger to her lips. "We must be quiet, no?"

"Max," Liz gave a soft smirk. "If you're thinking of doing what I think you're thinking of doing... don't even think of it. We can't do anything in here."

"How do you know this if you have not tried, mon amour?" Max's use of French words melted her resistance every time.

She knew exactly how Jamie Lee Curtis felt when John Cleese spoke Russian to her.


He eased the spaghetti straps from her shoulder, allowing the dress to fall to her feet. He reached down, his hot breath at her damp white cotton panties, and picked up the dress, hanging it over a hook. She could feel his eyes on her, on her small perky breasts that he considered perfect, on the hard, pink nipples he loved to suck, her tight, flat stomach, her lithe, long legs.

Taking hold of the waist of her panties, he motioned for her to sit down on the bench. As she did so, he pulled her panties down her thighs and to her ankles. A swift flick and she was naked in the middle of a very large, very exclusive department store. Her whole body shuddered when he looked into her eyes with such a burning intensity. Her heart started to pound, both fear and lust, as his face dipped towards her again. She shifted her self, making herself more accessible.

"What are you doing?" Liz begged with a whisper. Her eyes widened with shock. "We mustn't."

But she didn't try to stop him. Max's tongue trailed along her inner thigh all the way to her clitoris. There was no need for foreplay. Liz was already wet and willing. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying out. She had to bite the soft flesh of her hand. Forced into silence, her body was reacting more physically, bouncing on the bench as Max used his mouth to bring her closer to her orgasm. The thought that she might get caught seemed to make it more exciting for her.

Not realizing the assistant had left, Liz knew that she had to remain quiet. She would have just died if someone had burst in on them and seen her like this. When Max slid two fingers into her wanting depths, curling them upward, stroking her inside while still gently testing her clitoris, Liz thought she would explode. The feeling seemed to suddenly magnify. It was as if Max had found some new way to bring her pleasure. The pleasure was building, and it was too much for Liz. Her face flush with the desperate need to climax, burned with embarrassment that she would cry out and show herself for what she was. She thought she would explode when the fingers of Max's free hand teased her back entrance. She was convulsing, as his three pronged attack drove her into a huge orgasm. Her whole body rolled forward and how she kept silent, neither one of them knew.

It seemed to take Liz forever to come down from that particular high. She was still shaking, still suffering in the throes of minor orgasms.

"Your G-spot," Max whispered to her. "She is sensitive, no?"

"You... animal!" she hissed, her eyes glazed. "Max that was too much. Oh, god, Max. Fuck me."


Max was so hard, and so hungry, he didn't need a second invitation. Unfastening his pants and pushing his boxers down, Max held his erection to the flooded, aching, tight cavern of Liz's desire. He slid into her in one easy thrust. Liz grabbed his shoulders, pulled her to him and cried out into his chest, praying to every god that he would muffle her passion filled moans.

Slowly, because he knew that he would finish too early otherwise, Max started to move in and out of her. Liz could feel another orgasm building, just as she could feel Max's. Her walls started to clamp down on him. Max was struggling to keep his own voice down as he too started make funny noises in the back of his throat. She started to clench her buttocks, rising to meet him. Unable to stand it, she reached her fingers to herself, and started to rub her clitoris.

"Oh, Max," she wheezed. "Oh, Max! Yes!"

She started to orgasm, another explosion that caused her whole body to momentarily tense. It was enough for Max and he exploded into her, filling her.

"Oh, god, Max," Liz's breath heaved in and out as she clung to him. She couldn't focus on him. "I don't think I can survive two weeks of this."

"Moi non plus," Max nodded above her head. "Me neither. But what fun we will have trying, no?"

"What do I do now?" she leaned back panting and smiled. "When you pull out, I'm going to leak everywhere."

"Alors tu dois porter des culottes," Max grinned, holding up her white panties.

"You French are all perverts," Liz laughed, taking her panties which she used to clean herself up.

"And you would have it no other way, bien?"

"Bien," Liz nodded, her eyes sparkling with glee.


* * *


When they had left Au Printemps, Max had helped her into the taxi, and promised that he would meet her back at her hotel.

"I have the need to change my clothes, no?" he smiled at her. "A bientôt mon amour. Je ne serai pas long."

After a gentle, lingering kiss, Max hurried toward the métro. Liz had felt strange and a little vulnerable going commando under her jeans, even if she was taking a short taxi ride. Her panties were unfit for wearing, and she didn't want to ruin a new pair. As Max had said, it was all part of her new experiences.

It took both Gilles and the Concierge to help Liz up to her room with all her packages when she returned from her shopping expedition.

"Merci," Liz held the door as the two men filed out.


While Liz started to unpack her purchases, her lips curled up at the corners. She could just imagine what Maria would say to her if she saw the lingerie she had purchased. It began with an 's', ended in a 't', and rhymed with 'Pam Troy.' When she put some moisturizing wipes and a box of tissues in her bedside drawer, she saw her cell phone.

"Oh my god!" Liz stood upright and exclaimed. "Maria!"

When she went for her first walk with Max, that afternoon on the Ile de la Cité, she had turned her phone off and had promptly forgotten about it. She pressed the button, waiting for it to power itself up and register with her European service.

"Twenty-one missed calls?" she wailed. "She is so going to kill me."


"Elizabeth Parker!" Maria yelled in her ear from 5211 miles away, give or take. "Where the hell have you been? We have been so worried about you. Your Dad is on the verge of flying out to you."

"I'm so sorry, Maria," Liz felt guilty. "I forgot to turn on my phone. I'm having such a good time, I just forgot. Do you forgive me?"

"You certainly sound a lot better," Maria conceded. "So yeah, I guess I forgive you. As long as you give me details, babe. So why the mood swing? What's been keeping you so busy, huh?"

"Well," Liz sucked in her breath. "After I hung up the other day, yeah... I kind of met this really nice, uhm... Frenchman. He said that he..."

"Frenchman, huh?" Maria interrupted. "His name's not Casanova, is it?"

"No, Maria," Liz rolled her eyes. "His name is Max and he is really, really nice. He's been acting as my guide and showing me the sights of Paris."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Is that the only reason you've been too distracted to call me?"

Liz was glad that they had not invested in videophones.

"He's really nice, Maria. Even you would like him," Liz masked her true feelings, begging forgiveness from Max. "He's just being a good friend. That's all. There's no harm in that, is there?"

Somehow, she knew that it would be impossible to explain her actions these past two days to Maria. Because she wouldn't understand. She would never understand, because she would never meet and fall in love with Max, and feel so... cherished.

"No harm at all, Liz," Maria giggled. "But you never know, huh? You're there, alone, with him. And Paris is supposed to be romantic, and the French, well, they are supposed to be red hot lovers, right? But to be on the safe side, better not wear that, erm... surprise I left you. He might get the wrong idea and jump you right there."

"Maria," Liz groaned. "I'm just going to have a good time, okay?" A really, really good time, she silently added. "Hang with him and have fun. Now, my Dad isn't really going to fly out... is he?"

"Not now after I tell him you're okay," Maria chuckled. "You are okay, right?"

"Yeah. I am. Maria. I really am. I am so totally over that bastard and what he did to me" She released a silent sigh. "So what's been going on back home? Anything good?"

"He's been driving me crazy, Liz," Maria complained. "Have you heard from Liz? When's she coming homing? Where's she gone? And you've only been gone, what? Three days? It's going to be a long July. He really believes that when you come home and the two of you talk, you'll forgive him. Tell me that's the furthest thing from your mind."

"Oh, yeah, Maria," Liz nodded, looking at her new clothes and remembering what had happened when she had shopped for them. "Getting back with Kyle is so off the menu."

"And Pam dropped by to see me," Maria continued.

"Did she?" Liz's voice went cold. "What did she want?"

"Wanted to try and mend a few bridges. Apparently, her and Kyle are over because he's been whining about how he realizes he loves you after all blah blah blah. She wants to be friends again," Maria snorted. "She just doesn't want to be on her own in Boston."

"Even though I'm glad Kyle cheated on me with her, which stopped me from making a horrible mistake, she still betrayed our friendship, Maria," Liz shook her head. "Even with a guy I totally trust and totally love, I could never trust her not to make a play for him. I understand if you still want to be friends with her, but I can't forgive her, Maria."

"Liz, if she could pull that kind of shit on you when she says you were her best friend, what would she pull on me?" Maria agreed. "So tell me. What's Paris like?"


* * *


She was dressed and ready to go out when Max arrived at her door. She wore a pale orange dress that if anything, was smaller and lighter than the one Maria had surprised her with. Having been pleased with the reaction she got from Max wearing that dress, she hoped a repeat performance tonight would be in order.

She greeted him with and an extra large hug and a tender, affectionate kiss. She felt a little guilty at hiding their relationship from Maria and making light of their intense friendship, but it was easier to deal with Maria face to face. And when she was at home, and her affair over, it wouldn't matter what Maria thought, or said or did. Liz would have already experienced Max... to the max.

Dressed in a dark suit, this time with a very thin tie around his neck, Max gazed longingly at her, visibly affected by how she looked. She couldn't help feeling pleased, but neither could she help feeling that burning desire he seemed to evoke in her, too.

"I have been missing you too, chérie," Max hugged her back. "And you are all dressed in an outfit most incredible, no?" Max again traced his finger along the edge of her dress, touching her skin, leaving her burning where his finger - and his eyes - touched. "And I see you have been busy with the putting away of the clothes, too."

"Yeah," she giggled, clearing the haze his touch had induced. "It took me forever. But do you know what I'm going to need to buy before I go home?"

"What is that?" Max frowned. "Did you not already buy enough?"

"Yeah," Liz chuckled. "I'm going to need another suitcase."

"That is the least of our worries," Max smiled. "And for tonight, we must worry about the dinner, no?"

"Where are we going?" she went to her wardrobe and took out a shawl to match her dress and stepped into a pair of shoes that were a little higher than those Maria had bought for her."

"Mon dieu!" Max's eyes widened. "How can you even walk in those shoes?"

"Do you like them?" Liz twisted to look down at her feet?"

"Like them?" Max blinked, his eyes glued to her legs. "Je les adore. I think once again I must practice my evil eye to be keeping the other men away from you, no?"


Liz stepped up next to him. Running a hand up his arm, she circled behind him, dragging her hand over his shoulders. Closer to him with her heels, she put her lips right next to his ears.

"I belong to you, Max," she whispered. "You and only you."

"This is good," Max's body was shaking. "Because you can cut me in half and you can read your name all the way through me, no?"


They sat at a table on the pavement at the Au Rendez-vous des Camioners on the Ile de la Cité. Liz sipped her wine while Max taught her a new game called people watching.

"See there?" Max nodded a young couple standing at the street corner. They were affectionate with one another, but their PDAs seemed secretive. "They are coming to Paris without their partners knowing. They are having the affair, no?"

"How can you tell that?" Liz looked at the couple.

She wondered if there had been any tell tale signs that would have warned her of Kyle's infidelity, thus sparing her the embarrassment of her wedding day.

But then, if she had not made that discovery when she did, she would not have come to Paris on her own. If she had not come to Paris, she would not have met Max. If she had not met Max, then he would not have awoken the passionate young woman within her, and she wouldn't be here, sitting at a restaurant table, wondering if Max would just take her back to the hotel and make wild and abandoned love to her until she fell asleep.

"See their fingers?" he nodded at them again. "They have taken off their rings."

Around both ring fingers of the left hands, a band of pale, white skin could be seen. Liz couldn't help glancing at her own finger, glad that she had not often worn her engagement ring, so that it would neither get lost nor damaged at school or work.

"And they do not show their love, afraid that someone will see. And they do not know how to do so openly even when they have come away to Paris. I think they are cheating, no?"

"Maybe they just fell in love with the wrong person," Liz's voice dropped to a whisper. "And now they met their soul mates."

Max looked at her.

"Perhaps," he nodded. "Love is a strange lady. One minute she can have you in her grip and you think nothing can be better than this, and the next, she has spat you out because you have had such thoughts."

"Have you ever been in love, Max?" Liz looked up at him with a wistful smile.

Again, he looked at her, studying her.

"I thought I was," he nodded. "Once. But I have since found out that it was not love I was feeling."

Liz was about to ask another question, but Max interrupted.

"Are we finished here, or would you like something more? A coffee, perhaps? A cognac?"

"No," Liz shook her head. "I'm good."

"I thought that perhaps tonight, you would like to see the Eiffel Tower."

"Actually, Max?" Liz didn't feel like doing much this evening. Her mood had changed. If Maria had been there, it would have been an Ice Cream and bitch session. "It's been a long day, and I'm kind of worn out from our shopping trip." She gave a smile and her ears turned pink. "Can we just go back to my room?"

"Bien sûr, mon petit ange fatigué," he caressed her arm. "Come, I will take you home."


It was a short walk back over the river and around the corner to Liz's hotel.

"Will you come up?" she looked at him, fearful that her mood had ruined his evening. "We have that wine that we didn't drink last night."

"I would like that, Liz," he nodded, his voice filled with such concern that it made Liz's eyes sting. "But only for a little while if you are tired, no?"


They sat on her balcony for while, drinking the red wine. The alcohol helped to perk her up a little bit, but she felt weary still.

"I think we overdid it today, Max," Liz smirked. "The shower this morning, all day wandering around that huge store, and then you making love to me in the changing cubicle. Last night, I was a virgin, and today, I had sex twice."

"I cannot help that," Max shook his head, gazing into Liz's eyes as she sat next to him in the chair. "I am in the presence of a most beautiful young woman who is très sexy, no? And my body, it reacts to you. Even now."

"Really?" her eyes widened.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked in a gently astonished voice. "It is like you do not believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful, or that you are sexy. And it is not just me that is thinking so, Liz. When we are out for the walk, take a look around you. All of the men are looking at me and saying, who is he who has the luck for being with such a beautiful woman? I am always afraid that I am having to threaten them, no?"

"Sorry," Liz looked down. "Don't get me wrong, Max. I love all the flattery, all the attention, but... I'm just not used to it. The guys where I come from... they..."

She could never recall a single instance where Kyle had said anything so nice to her.

"They do not know how to treat the beautiful ladies, Liz," Max lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it. "And when I saw you at Gaston's table, full of sadness, I wanted to kiss the tears away and cherish you as you should be cherished. And please believe me when I tell you that to me, you are très jolie."

"Thank you," her eyes filled with love.

"And now, you will come with me please," Max smiled. Rising from the chair, he offered her his hand. "I know just what it is you need."

"Uh, huh?" Liz smirked. "What's that?"

"I will give to you a relaxing massage, no?"

"A massage?" Liz smiled. "Really?"

"Really," he nodded. "And you know that there is nothing more that I would like than to undress you while I kiss your body and drive you crazy with desire for making love, but then, you would not get your massage. So you will assist me and get undressed, no?"

"Only if you undress too," Liz grinned.

"This is something I can do," he nodded, pushing his jacket off.


"Bon," Max smiled at Liz who was now naked.

Naked himself, both of them were openly gazing at one another.

"Please lay down on the towel, Liz," Max had spread a huge bath towel on the bed. "On your front, sil vous plais."

While Liz laid herself down, on her front as Max had requested, he went into the bathroom. When he came out, he turned on the TV set and switched it on to a radio station again. With soft, quiet music playing in the background, Max climbed up onto the bed and placed himself so that he was sitting over the top of Liz's thighs, though he was putting no pressure on them.

She jumped when she felt some liquid being dribbled onto her back. She wondered what it was and hoped that Max had not already...

"It is your huile de bébé," Max seemed to be reading her mind. "Your baby oil."

She liked to use it on herself every now and then, after a shower. It helped keep her skin soft, and in the desert air, any thing that helped...

Max began to run his hands in long, firm strokes over her back, spreading the oil where he went. Moving up and down, he worked each muscle individually with his fingers. He applied enough direct pressure to force the muscle to tighten for a moment and then he worked the tension out to leave the muscle at the peak of relaxation. Liz started to purr with pleasure as he continued to work his way down her back, working the shoulders first, making his way to her buttocks. When he had reached that low, leaving Liz purring like a highly tuned racing car, he ran his hands up her sides, his fingers sliding over the gentle swell where her breasts flared out from being pressed against the bed.

Pulling his hands back, Max started to inch his way down the bed, allowing his hand to work Liz's backside muscles. He momentarily rose, and lifted her legs apart so that he could kneel between them. Liz sighed with pleasure.

His hand slid up and then back, teasing the large muscles in her gorgeous little bottom. He rubbed his hands along her legs, kneading her thighs, his fingers dipping between them to feel the warmth there, causing her to part them more.

Massaging her firm calves, removing the strain of her day, Liz was in heaven.

"This is wonderful, Max," she moaned.

And Max watched everywhere his fingers touched her, learning her body, finding out just how much pressure it took to make her moan, and what points of her body made her spasm with delight. Not because he wanted to drive her into a passionate frenzy... yet, but because learning her body had become his primary goal right now.

His hands slid back up her thighs, his fingers trailing on their insides and then over her cheeks, while his fingers teased her crease. Kneading her as he went, he could see her body relax. She alternated between purring with delight and sighing with satisfaction.


"Roll over," he leaned up and whispered in her ear. "It is time for the other side, no?"

"But..." Liz lifted her head and started to object.

Max silenced her with a gentle kiss.

"Mmmmm" Liz smiled as she twisted her slim body around.

Max's first action was to pour a little oil over her body. She giggled when it trickled over her nipple. She squealed when she felt it over her mound and started to ooze over her already soaking sex.

Max reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders, passing down over her chest, moving close to, but not quite touching, her erect nipples. He could tell that she wanted him to touch her by the way she twisted her body. They continued to grow as he finally passed his warm, oiled hands over the summit of her breasts and caressed her hard little buds. With each movement, Liz's eyes, always fixed on Max, started to droop closed, as she surrendered to the sheer sensuousness of it.

"Max," she sighed.

Max's fingers traveled down over Liz's ribs, lightly drawing trails as he sought the places that brought some kind of reaction. And each one, he filed away. He watched the Goosebumps form where his light touch teased her. Max was sure that he could see the ripples of pleasure travel through her body. He returned to her breasts again, this time, ignoring the nipples completely. Her chest began to heave as her breathing became more labored. Her body started to shift once more and Liz tried to force contact with Max's hand. Max smiled at her growing frustration.

"Soon," he promised.

And then he was tracing circles around her aureole, reading the soft crinkles as though they were a message for him in Braille. The tension rose in her body as the digits passed so close to her nipples yet not touching them. The anticipation of the feelings his touch would ignite, the knowledge of what desire his touching fingers would arouse inside her was quietly driving her crazy. His finger would draw so close only to tentatively creep away again.

Liz was clutching at the sheets again, her breath low and labored.

"Max," she whined.

At last his thumb slid up and he gently took a nipple between his finger and thumb, lightly caressing and teasing it to full erection.

"Oh, yes!" she hissed.

Liz's head started rolling again and she moaned loudly when he pressed his other hand against her breast. He started to tease that nipple now, both of them being caressed, teased, pinched and pulled, a gentle increase in pressure that matched the rise in pitch of her cries.


Max brought his hand slowly down her body. She sucked her tummy in when he passed over it. He drew a swirling pattern over her taut muscles, watching them pulsate at his touch. Her plea was almost silent, nothing but a whisper almost lost in the background music.

"Please."

With a smile on his face, and gazing adoringly at her, he caressed down her thighs, over her knees and calves to her ankles. Then he began a long journey inexorably back up, pausing to caress the hollow behind her knees. He was rubbing her thighs, his fingers moving in circles that drew closer and closer to her swollen lips, and the escaping moisture her passion had created.

Liz moaned again, lifting her hips to try to draw his fingers into her. But his fingers danced away, barely touching her skin, only to dance over the swollen petals of her burning flower. Again, he danced away and teased his fingers over the smooth skin that he had personally shaved earlier that day. Liz cried out, arching her back when out of the blue, he pressed a whole hand over her mound, pressing her hard clitoris beneath his forefinger and his palm against her swollen lips.

"Max!" her voice warbled. "Oh, god, Max. Put it in, please!"

Her lips separated of their own accord and beneath his palm, he could feel her wetness flooding out, soaking his hand. Moving it, he allowed two of his finger to gather her nectar, bathing luxuriously in it, the tips moving up to tease either side of her hard little nub, so gentle, so very lightly that it could almost have been a soft breeze. Her whole body jerked.

"Oh!" she cried, one of her hands grabbing his to ensure it stayed right where it was.

Max placed his fingers between her lips, to lie at her entrance. Wet... warm... tight... He pressed but he did not enter her. Again, he slid them up and over her clitoris. Her body reacted in the same way and a moan escaped her lips. It was long, and desperate.

"Ooooooohhhhhhhh, Mmmmmaaaaaaxxxxxxx!"

Again, Max was at her opening, this time penetrating her, sliding just inside. His fingers started to curl up again while his palm pressed against her hard clitoris. He eased himself in, his curling fingers again finding her spot, caressing her so gently, rubbing back and forth over it.

She had lost all coherence now. Her hand held his wrist firmly, allowing him no retreat. While he massaged her G-Spot, Max brought his other hand up to rub circles around her external button. Her body started to quiver. Her hips started to move, setting the tempo. Liz was whining, crying, moaning, everything at once. As an intense orgasm approached, Liz's eyes opened. They looked at Max, almost pleading with him. She released his wrist and her hands shook in the air. The intensity was either frightening her, or she was too lost in the passion to fully understand what was happening to her.

"Relax, mon petit ange," Max reassured her. "I have got you."

The time for gentleness was now gone. She wanted her orgasm, no, she needed to come. Everything had expanded to capacity and she felt like something had to explode. Max's words reassured her but her body still felt so... amazing. The intensity was frightening, but Max said that he had her.

And then it happened. A sudden wave washed Max's fingers that had been stroking her insides. Her whole body trembled and her pleasure was expressed in a series of grunts, a short staccato that accompanied each tremor and flex of her stomach. She came hard, and long.

While the multiple orgasms still rocked her, Max pressed his own aching member inside her, her walls instantly grabbing him, holding him, milking him with the contractions that accompanied her climax. Max started to push into her, deeper, filling her. She squeezed her muscles around him, bringing a moan from Max's throat. She felt a sensation of emptiness each time he pulled back, only to be replaced by the intense fullness as he sank into her as deeply as he could. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts, her breathing becoming a series of desperate panting. With another cry, she threw her hips up, forcefully crashing against his downward stroke.

"Ah, Li-iz," he called as he reached his own orgasm.


They held one another tightly until the throws of their passion finally started to subside. Their panting breaths blowing across one another's faces.

"Is it always going to be like this?" Liz gasped. "So... intense?"

This beat eating ice cream and bitching with Maria any day.

"We can only hope, mon amour," Max smiled.

She pulled Max down to the bed with beside her, snuggling against him to prepare for sleep. Her eyes slid open when she thought of something.

"Will you stay?" she begged him. "Please?"

"For l'éternité," he assured her. "If you'll let me."

"Really?" Liz could never stop being amazed that this gorgeous young man wanted to be with her.

"Again with the 'really'?" Max chuckled. "I should spank you."

"Not tonight," Liz covered her yawn with her hand. "Too tired."

They wrapped them selves in each other.

"But, Max?" Liz's drowsy voice was close to a whisper. She started to smile. "Soon, though, please?"


* * *

Hi Everyone!

All week long, I've been wondering why I wasn't getting any feedback on this story. I never recieved a single e-mail notifying me. Oh dear, I thought. Maybe I got it wrong with this chapter.

So I log on tonight to find that I have almost 3 whole pages, and a new reader to boot! YAY! So the problem isn;t with my story, but with the website as it didn't notify me when I have it set to "Watch"

So thank you all so very much for for you wonderful replies.

A little note on Max and Liz seeming to be oblivious to the fact that they will soom say goodbye. I can remember a holiday romance or two when I was that age, and thinking at the start how two weeks seemed like forever. It wasn't until we moved into that last week that we suddenly realised how short it really was.

BTW - If you are an Irish lady who met a guy named Wayne at a holiday complex called "Penta Club" outside San Antonio in Ibiza, a long, long time ago... pm me.

AJK001 - Well, from Kyle's POV, it's worth a shot to mend fences, right? And Pam, well, anything is better than being alone.

Ellie - Yes. Wouldn't do to have Mom and Dad turn up and cramp her style now, would it?

Erina - Good points. Hope the above comments sorts no 3 out for you

MamaDee52 - TMI!!! LOL - Well, thank you. But I hope the 'getting good' comment doesn;t mean that the latest chapters were better than the earliest. I am trying so hard to keep things different.

anonymousarfan - At the moment, there is no need for Liz to say anything. Perhaps when she thinks that maybe she can have Max in the long run...

Gater101 - Well... Max is hardly going to tell Liz about his past now, is he? Which means... unless Max talks to someone else, we won;t find out.

begonia9508 - Young love, holiday love... plenty of time for the not so imprtant details later.

lazza - Ah - Max's reaction was supposed to convey that in Liz, he believed he had met his soulmate.

BehrObsession - And there's still a week and a half to go! And there is so much to see and do in Paris!!!

dreamer destiny - Liz is enjoying the moment. Something good has come into her life and she doesn't want to ruin it. Maybe she will learn about Max later.

Michelle in Yonker - Not quite sure what you are reffering to, well, I might do. If you want to discuss it in pm, feel free. I suspect that it's just that I didn;t explain myself very well. But I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

NorafanofMaxandLiz - I suspect that many worry that because of Liz's 'state of mind' in the prologue, that she will take him back on her return. Am I right? As for anullment/dicorce... somehow, I think that right now, the last thing Liz wants to do is waste time at the consulate when she woulc be spending it with Max. Planty of time for legal stuff later.


roswellluver - Glad you like it hot. ooer!

vampyrax - LOL. Well... why don;t you copy the text of my story, drop it into word, use Replace to find "Liz" and replace it with "Vampyrax" and presto!

g7silvers - Well, something clearly happenes. I mean, even if Liz told him to stay away, do you really think he would?

Emz80m - Thank you.

SmileeUk - Well... turning Liz into Max's little sex goddess was certainly my intention. And her journey is no where near ended. No siree!

Jason's Lover - And Liz is certainly holding her own! LOL

frenchkiss70 - Yes, I am certainly trying hard to stay accurate with my view of Paris. So far, I have been able to talk about places I have seen/been. But there is still so much that I have not.

clueless - Thank you.

FSUMSW94 - Yes. I think they have connected in ways they don;t understand. And the physical nature of their relationship was something tht they just couldn't suppress.

martine - You know, it seems like Paris whould give me some kind of award!

Earth2Mama - Welcome aboard. Glad you are enjoying the story.

Roswell 10/2/00 - He he, Give your brother a copy of this story and tell him to use it as a blueprint... heh heh heh heh.

cherie - Yes, Paris is certainly beautiful.


Running Authors Note.
When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk


Part 8 - Something of a Triumph


Wednesday - July 6th, 2005


The sun was already up, bathing Paris with a soft, muted light. A gentle breeze was blowing through the opened doorway from the patio. Liz started to awaken with a dreamy, sleepy smile. Like a contented kitten, she gave a leisurely stretch and a lazy yawn. Before she even saw him, she could feel his presence, a warmth next to her. She opened her eyes and gazed into his beautiful sleeping face. It was, perhaps, the most incredible feeling, outside of the amazing lovemaking that they shared, that Liz had ever experienced. To wake up, feel her man next to her, to see him, to see his incredibly sexy eyes that just fluttered open for a moment and then closed with a contented smile. Liz couldn't believe that she found herself wanting him already.

The sight of him lying so comfortably next to her took her breath away. He was a very ruggedly handsome, sexy, with a sweet little boyish appearance. With the sheet loosely draped at his waist, his chest exposed and his arms above his head, he lay peacefully, unaware of Liz's loving inspection of the vision he made. This was how it should be, she decided. Forever.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, she reached out and gently stroked his face, tracing a finger lightly across his brow across the side of his face and down over the fullness of his lower lip. He started to stir. Her fingers moved along Max's jaw line, making an imaginary line with her nail to the hollow of his neck.

"Bonjour ma belle endormie," his sleep filled voice whispered. "As-tu bien dormi?"

Did he know what speaking to her in French did to her insides, Liz wondered? Perhaps she should show him? She leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the middle of his chest, a warm, wet, sucking kiss. She rested her hands lightly against him as she trailed her lips along his chest, over his side and back to his nipple, stopping to encircle it with her tongue.

"Ah, très bien," he groaned, shifting his weight. "C'est bon."

Placing random kisses upon his warm skin, Liz's passion surged. Those words! She wanted him inside her. His hand coming over to her back, making slight stroking motions with his thumb told her that he had awoken wanting her, too.

Liz eased back the sheet, exposing Max fully to her gaze. Her eyes drifted to the sight of his manliness. Not quite fully erect, twitching gently with his heartbeat. Her mouth went dry. Her desire for him increased. She needed him, badly. But she was determined to remain patient. Bringing him as much pleasure as he had brought her had become Liz's morning's mission.

Her hand reached down to touch him, a gentle finger tracing effortlessly over the smooth head of his erection, gliding around it, along it, and then dipping lower, her fingers stroking the rounded fullness of his testicles. She moved up to lace her fingers through his soft hair.

"Ah, oui," his breath exhaled while his legs shifted restlessly against the cool sheets.


Liz leaned in, her face lightly brushing his torso and she moved to her target. His hair pressed back against her cheek. He could feel her warm breath on him and then her tongue barely grazed across the tip of his manhood and around the rim. It was barely the whisper of a touch. She kissed him, lightly but wetly on the head, causing him to groan beneath her while his body gave a little spasm. His erection twitched, growing harder beneath her kisses as she moved down to nuzzled along his length to the base. Her hand, meanwhile, massaged and caressed his balls.

"Mon dieu, Liz," he moaned, twisting his hips.


Her lips and mouth moistened. She easily slid the tip into the warm cavern she formed, holding him momentarily before slowly teasing her tongue from the tip to the ridge, feeling his hardness pulsate within her. With another moan, his hand reached out and tangled with her hair. Liz paused and looked up to see Max's adoring eyes looking back at her. She smiled at him and then, returning to the task at hand, he watched as she took as much of his length as she could into her mouth in one, slow, enveloping motion. He groaned and dropped his head back to his pillow, arching his body into her. His legs parted slightly while he gently caressed her dark silken tresses.

With Max full and rigid, she continued to move over his length. Pulling back, she grazed her tongue against him, stopping close to the tip where she pulled slightly harder, using her tongue to caress and massage him. Her fingers danced up and down his inner thigh. Plunging down again, she moved faster over him, tasting his excitement, his longing for more and all the while, she own excitement mounted.

She felt Max's grasp tighten around her hair. Using it as a lever, he drew her up to him. Liz couldn't help her whimper when she lost contact with his hardness but she slid her body sensuously against him as she rose to meet him. Kissing his sleep swollen lips, gently nibbling on his lower lip, she could feel the roughness of his morning stubble and looked forward to their morning shave. His hands clutched her head, holding her as their kiss deepened to become more passionate, yet still slow. Gentle, but impatient. Building to an urgent sense of need, of want in them both. Their tongues moved against one another, tasting, exploring, intensely searching while their hands clutched at one another, forcefully embracing when the kiss became all consuming.

Liz could feel him hard and full against her thigh, a hot, pulsing heat that sent warm rushes of excitement and anticipation to further enhance her desire. Butterflies moved quickly in her stomach while her heart pounded, each beat sending a new wave of sensations. Her breath became shallow and quick, taking in the scent that was so unique to Max.

She positioned herself over him, the head of his manhood pressing firmly against her, feeling the moist heat generated by her desire to make him grow harder still. While Max's broad hands teased her back, she moved, grinding against him, making him feel her excitement as it slid along him. She wanted him to know just how much she wanted him.

"Oh, bébé!" Max gasped. "Oh, yes!"

Her wetness coated him as she moved her body against his, her breasts pressing against his chest while her hard nipples dug into him.

She moved herself higher up his body, allowing the tip of his hard manliness to ease gently between her wet pussy lips, holding him there. She could not help her hiss of pleasure that acted as a counterweight to Max's throaty groan as Liz slowly eased herself onto him, wrapping his pulsating erection in her silky texture until it completely enveloped him, holding him tightly. Liz loved the way he felt inside her, as though she was full, complete. Their eyes closed in unison as they both sighed with a deep-seated pleasure.

Liz then rose to a sitting position, feeling him slip deeper inside of her, snuggled tightly against her inner walls. Resting her hands against his hard stomach, she raised herself, and rolled her hips back in one motion, pulling on him and she did so, and then reversing the motion, she lowered herself, taking him and surrounding him again.

"Ah, yes, Liz," Max's voice was deep and lusty. "This feels so good. Do not stop."

"No?" Liz finished for him.


Max's hands slid to her breasts, softly caressing her and moving over her nipples, causing them to grow even more erect. Liz leaned forward to kiss him, her tongue teasing his mouth while she pulled forward on him, withdrawing to his tip. Then she returned, holding him deeply inside her once again, groaning herself as she did. Moving up and down on him, rising off him to stroke his entire length with her contracting muscles before plunging down to once more be filled by him. She undulated her hips as she rose and lowered herself, moving him with her, rocking and stoking as her hands grazed his chest and stomach.


Liz bent forward and kissed his chest and his nipples, sucking, nibbling and gently biting on them with her teeth. She moved off of him, raising her hips and then slowly lowered herself over him again. She knew that Max was feeling good. His hand moved between her thighs as she slowly rocked and pulled on him. He gently moved a finger across her hard, throbbing clitoris, feeling the bud growing as he touched her, stroked her, sending tiny little biting shocks throughout her body.

"Oh, Max," Liz couldn't help sobbing.


Liz could scarcely believe the sensations. He was touching her and filling her all at the same time. The motion against him, the movements as she rocked over him, off and back, holding him tightly within her was incredible. While she continued her rocking and her hands caressed him, he was stroking her.

"Oh, baby," she gasped. "It feels so good... I can't get enough of you."

"The same goes for me," Max groaned in a strange voice.


She needed to kiss him again. Deeply. Leaning forward once more, her hands held his head while they shared an urgent, hot kiss that expressed all the passion they each felt. It was filled with desire, with longing. Moving faster, harder, grinding herself against him, she was driving toward her climax. Max's hands moved to cup her backside, helping to pull and push her onto him in time with his own movements while she continued to rock. He started to meet her thrusts. They moved together, frantically against one another, kissing, devouring... Loving.

Feeling the overpowering sensations of her climax approaching, Liz moved harder against him. Her body started to shudder as flushing waves traveled and pulsed up her thighs, over her tummy, her chest... her face.

"Oh, Max!" she screamed as her amazing orgasm possessed her. "Max!"

Goosebumps formed all over her skin as she felt her hands clutch and her muscles contract against him. She felt breathless as her heart pounded.

"Ah, bébé," Max gasped. "Mon dieu, bébé!"

She felt his body tighten as he arched up and into her. As her orgasm reached its peak, she felt his hardness pulse and his warmth filling her, mixing with her own. He was so deeply into her, she was glad that she had been taking her pill. She doubted that she would have had a chance had she been unprotected. But how amazing that would have been, to have Max's baby growing inside her, a permanent reminder that she had, if only for a little while, found the man of her dreams. Her soul mate.

His kisses returned her from her dream world. They were deep and passionate, caring. Filled with a loving embrace that helped her intense feelings to subside to a more gentle, tender glow. Their breath gradually slowed while their hearts returned to something that could be considered normal. They held each other, not moving, not wanting to be apart.

"Tu es incroyable," Max's soft words whispered into her ear.


* * *


"And now," Max's hands teased up and down her naked spine. "I must be getting up so that I may fetch the croissants, no?" he looked into her eyes.

"No," Liz shook her head. "As much as I really loved those croissants, Max, we really should get showered and dressed. We can have breakfast downstairs on our way out. Making love with you is just so... I mean, wow. But I would like to be able to see something of the city." She started to giggle. "Besides, you'd soon grow bored with me if all we did was make love all day."

"Me?" Max looked astounded. "Grow bored with you?" He started to laugh. "That would be like Paris selling the Eiffel Tower for scrap metal. C'est tout simplement impossible."


They showered together, and although she allowed Max to shave her again, she allowed him to shave himself. It had been hard to resist another bout of lovemaking when he had finished, leaving her mound all smooth and sexy, but they managed it. That wasn't to say that neither of them were unaffected.

Dressed in a strappy red sundress and a pair of low, white heels, they descended in the elevator. When they went into the breakfast room, eyes were drawn to them like moths to a flame. On the way out, Max excused himself and spoke quietly with concierge, handing him over a small fold of bills. Hand in hand, with Liz giving Max a quizzical look, they stepped out into the Parisienne sunshine.


"What was that about?" Gilles asked the concierge who was counting out the stack of Euros Max had given him.

"It seems," he smirked, "that the enigmatic American lady's French lover wants to have his cake as well as eat it."


* * *


Their day started at the métro Chemin-Vert. From there, they immersed themselves in the work of one of the city's most famous artistic residents at the Musée Picasso. They studied representative works from each of his 'periods', including blue period 'Self Portrait' and the cubist 'Man with a Guitar'. Max particularly seemed captivated by 'Guernica'. After looking at it for a while, he turned to Liz with a long face. He gave her arm a gentle tug and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a gentle, yet passionate kiss. He was smiling again when he slowly released her.

For lunch, they soaked up the atmosphere at Le Loire dans la Théière, a small café that sold delightful, light lunches.

Their next port of call was the Musée National d'Art Moderne, in the Pompidou Center. The center itself was a rather impressive building to behold. It had a glass façade, external staircases encapsulated in clear tubes and at the back, it had a series of red, green and blue external pipes.

"It was designed," Max informed her "so that the building seemed inside out."

"Uh huh," Liz nodded. "Looks like it worked."

The escalators as well as the roof offered amazing views of the surrounding cityscape.


* * *


As he had done yesterday, Max put Liz in a taxi, to return to her hotel alone. This time, she had orders to be ready to go out at eight. He was returning to his flat so that he could pick up some clothes, and some toiletries to keep in her hotel room, in case he stayed overnight again. They both knew that he would be staying overnight for as long as Liz remained in Paris.

Safely in her room, Liz took the opportunity to call Maria, just to reassure her that everything was fine. There was no way that Liz wanted a surprise visit from home. That truly would make her miserable.

"So what do you do in the evenings?" Maria asked after they had dealt with the pleasantries.

"I've been out to dinner a couple of times," Liz told her.

"With Max?"

"Yeah," Liz nodded. "He's been so helpful. But my balcony is perfect for sitting outside and reading. Sometimes I sit out there with a glass of wine or two."

"How cosmopolitan," Maria sniggered. "When we get our place in Boston, we are so going to have to find one with a balcony. Then we can sit outside, drink wine and talk in phony French accents."

"What about when it snows, Maria?" Liz laughed. "It gets pretty cold in Boston."

"Then we'll just drink the wine," Maria smirked. "Keep us warm. So, where's Max now?"

"He went home, actually," Liz could tell her honestly.

"Oh," Maria sounded surprised. "I sort of thought..."

"No," Liz shook her head, hiding the huge smile. "He does have a home to go to, you know. I'm here, in my room, alone."

"I wish I was there with you babe," Maria told her. "We could have so much fun together, checking out the nightlife, flirting with the French guys..."

"I wish you were here, too," Liz had her fingers crossed. That was the last thing she wanted right now. "But believe me, Maria. I am having the best time. Really! But tonight, I will probably go to bed early." Like, the early hours of the morning, with Max.


* * *


"Liz," Max breathed when she had opened the door to him. "The designers of clothes must love the ladies like you. You are breathtaking."

She was wearing a short, black dress. The skirt was the kind that would flare out if Liz should spin around. The top was a crisscross of black fabric that left a large V shape to her front and her back. Her legs were encased in black stockings and she wore black, high-heeled sandals. One side of her hair was pushed back and clipped with a small diamante jewel.

"You, too, Max," her own breath caught. She had to bring her hand to her chest to remind herself that she needed to breathe.

Max wore a white linen suit with a white shirt. His collar was open. He had a pair of white loafers on his feet.

"We should just stay in, no?" he smirked. "What do we need of food when we have each other, huh?"

"Say that when your stomach grumbles at a delicate moment," Liz rolled her eyes. "Is that all you think about?"

Winking, Max leaned to her ear and whispered.

"It is all you think about, too, bébé," he laughed. "It was not I who woke up and attacked you."

"So you didn't enjoy that this morning," Liz smirked.

"This I did not say," Max laughed. Then his face looked upon hers, open affection shining in his eyes. "And for your record, I enjoyed it tremendously. It was très magnifique! Every moment that I spend with you is precious to me, but the time we spend making love is even more so because I know that you are not normally doing such things."

"Max," Liz sighed.

Sometimes, his English could melt her just as easily as his French.


* * *


When she had stepped onto the train in the métro, Liz had felt a little awkward at first.

"Regarde," Max pointed at a cluster on young ladies dressed to go clubbing. "These ladies, they make you look... conservative, no?"

"Yes," Liz had to agree.

Their tight dresses seemed to only just cover their backsides. She wondered how she would look in such a dress. Expecting to see Max appreciating the view they made, she looked up at him only to find his eyes, as always, smiling warmly at her. By the time they changed trains, Liz was feeling comfortable with herself. It helped that Max's commanding presence was always at her side.


"Wow!" Liz gasped when Max led her up into the twilight.

They had emerged in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe. She had always thought how large it looked when she had seen it, either in pictures or more recently, from a distance. But standing beneath its broad arches, she could only look up and shake her head.

"You can see why the armies like to march through her, no?" Max looked up at the building.

"Are there people up there?" Liz pointed, sure that she had seen something move in the gloom.

"Of course," Max nodded. "You can climb the stairs inside to the museum, and then you can climb more stairs to the roof. The views are spectacular, mon amour. We will go and see for ourselves, no?"

"Je voudrais cela," Liz grinned.

"Bon," Max laughed. "Nous y allons."


Liz paid their entrance fee, after a minor discussion with Max, and they climbed the staircase in one of the supports to the huge museum high above the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier on the ground below. Together, they wandered along the exhibits, which showed everything, and anything there was to know about the Arc de Triomphe.

"What does this say, Max?" Liz was looking at a drawing of the arch, but it had been modified, adding the head and hindquarters of an elephant.

"This is a classic case of showing that not all artists know what they are doing, no?" Max laughed. "This man here wanted to make the change to turn the Arc de Triomphe into an elephant."

Liz shook her head.

"You French are weird," she chuckled.

"Ah, and are we not perverts, also?" Max raised his eyes. "That makes us weird perverts, bien?"

"Very bien," Liz reached up and licked Max's lips before dancing way.


To say that Liz was struck dumb would be an understatement. All of Paris, illuminated by streetlights and floodlights lay stretched before her. Red and white points of light trailed down the twelve roads that converged on their little island in the sea of traffic. It was almost too much to take in. She looked at Max, her eyes burning with excitement, and then looked again out at the city. The Eiffel Tower rose like a golden fountain into the darkening sky, reminding her of her amazing night with Max. The Sacré Coeur glowed in a white light. Elsewhere, domes and buildings and gaily colored lights blended with the sounds of the car horns below.

She turned to speak to him, but changed her mind. Instead, she threw her arms and round his shoulders and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his. Max brought his arms to envelope her, one hand teasing her hair behind her neck while the other teased the firm globes of her backside. The kiss boiled over when Max started to first suckle and then gently chew her bottom Lip. Liz leapt up against him, instinctively trusting that he would catch and hold her. Which he did. Her face above him now, her hands trapped his face while she devoured his lips and inhaled his tongue.


* * *

They had to use an underground walkway to get across the very busy road that surrounded the Arc de Triumph. When they emerged onto the Champs-Elysées, Max led her through the throngs of tourists and Pariesiens that were out enjoying the night air. He stopped outside of an impressive looking french store. To Liz, it looked like a candy store, with the small windows lined with delicious looking treats. Above the green woodwork, a green shade announced that this place was called La Duree.

Max smiled at her as he opened the doors and led her inside to what was actually a restaurant.

"Max, this is lovely," Liz's eyes were everywhere.


If Liz ever understood what was meant when someone said 'typically french', this would have to be it. The ceilings were decorated with plaster moldings and architraves. Everything was painted in a pale pink and oyster color. Blue waterfall style curtains hung above the windows, and the antique looking chairs and benches that sat around the huge antique looking tables were finished in a dark and pale blue striped velour. The floor was carpeted in a rich maroon color, laced with thick golden trailing vines of leaves. There was a huge sweeping staircase where one or two people were making there way up, or down. Even from where they stood, Liz could feel the ambience.

Just inside the door, and a dark stained hardwood floor, a number of glass topped display cases and some glass fronted units displayed pyramids of candy.

"Chocolates?" Liz's eyes lit up.

"Le macaron," Max smiled. "Macaroons."

"Really?" the tip of her pink tongue poked out for a split second. "I love macaroons."

"Then we must buy some for you to be trying, when you are no longer full from the dinner."

"I'll have to take some home for Maria," Liz nodded. "She loves them too."

"This will be impossible, I'm afraid," Max gave a sad shake of his head.

"Oh," Liz looked surprised. "Are they like, banned by US customs or something?"

"Mais non," Max chuckled. "You will have eaten them before your plane, she has left the ground."

"I have willpower," Liz pouted.

Max leaned forward and brought his mouth to her ear.

"I am hoping not," his breath scorched her.


"Oui, Monsieur?" a short man with a rather broad waist wearing an immaculate dinner jacket approached Max. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," Max nodded. "An intimate table for two in the name of Effance."

"Effance?" the man queried as he looked down a list in the book in front of him. "Ah yes. Here we are. Effance. If you would like to follow me, please?"

The maître d'hôtel led them through the main room of the restaurant to the back, where a number of small alcoves lay tucked in quiet positions. Still part of the main room, yet set back slightly.

"Merci, Monsiuer," Max shook the man's hand, discreetly passing him a folded bill.

Their table was small, and a curved loveseat gave it the appearance of a booth in a somewhat exclusive diner.

"This is très bon, no?" Liz looked around at her surrounding with eyes as wide as saucers.

"Oui, ma chérie," Max laughed. "C'est un endroit merveilleux pour dîner."

Liz shivered with delight, meeting the constant gaze of Max's amber eyes.


Now seated at their table in the alcove, next to one another, he looked at her face, glowing in the golden aura from the small chandelier above their table. A smile crept across her lips while he watched her. She had her head down, looking at the menu, pleased to see that under the French entry, it was listed in smaller print in other languages. English was one of them. Her mind was being filled with the ideas of such wondrous culinary concoctions. She could feel his eyes on her again, and she looked up at him. Their eyes met in a loving embrace, the spark of passion burning so brightly. Liz sighed.

The surrounding buzz of muted conversations and the general hustle and bustle of the waiting staff tending to their duties was quietly calming to her. But Max's burning gaze had the opposite effect. Her breath caught every time. A young waiter appeared at their table.

"Good evening, Sir, Miss," he smiled. "Could I offer you some wine, perhaps?"

"Ah, yes," Max nodded. He hadn't even looked at the wine list. "We'll have a Mersault, if you please."

"A good choice, Monsieur," the waiter nodded. "And I do believe that we have a bottle of '97 left."

"Really?" Max smiled. "If you do, we'll have that, please."

Taking the unwanted glasses away with him, the wine waiter left.


"And that was...?" Liz looked at him with pure adoration.

"The wine waiter checking you out," his laugh was soft and low. "And while he was here, I have ordered for us the wine. A Mersault, from the Burgundy region."

"That means nothing to me, Max," Liz giggled. "The wine, either. Will I like it?"

"I hope so," Max grinned. "Otherwise, I must be drinking it all by myself, no?"


Max seemed to be paying more attention to Liz than he was to the menu he had opened in front of him. She saw the devious grin appear at the corner of his mouth. She wondered what he was up to and couldn't help the surge of excitement this caused. The hand next to her slid from his menu and under the table, hidden by the fold of the table cloth. She watched from the corner of her eye and couldn't wait to see what would happen next. Liz gasped when she felt his finger tips on her thigh. She looked around the restaurant - they weren't 'that' secluded - to see if anyone was watching.

"Your Mersault, Monsieur," the wine waiter appeared at their table, holding the green bottle so that Max could read the label. "Shall I uncork it?"

"If you please," Max nodded, his fingers still teasing Liz's thigh.

The man produced a small silver penknife, cut through the seal, and then with a corkscrew, pulled out the cork with a pop. Twisting as he poured, he placed a mouthful into Max's wineglass. With Liz watching in breathless fascination, Max lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled the aroma. He nodded and the lifted it to his lips, sipping it.

"Oui," Max nodded, his fingers still teasing Liz. "Très bon. Vous pouvez verser. Apportez-nous deux verres d'eau glacée, s'il vous plaît?"

"Oui, Monsieur," he complied. If he noticed anything going on under that table, he did not show it.


When the waiter left, Max's fingers continued to dance on Liz's thigh, just above the top of her stocking. His eyes were locked onto hers. She couldn't help her smile of pleasure, but she was trying to resist his warm, electrifying touch. She was failing. She lifted her wineglass to her lips and took a sip of wine just as his finger walked up her thigh, skimming her skin.

Another waiter appeared at the table, catching them both slightly off guard. Her thighs closed. Liz's face turned a pale crimson color, convinced that the young man knew exactly what was going on, knew that she was terribly aroused. Again, he gave no indication that he did. Max, on the other hand, portrayed a perfect sense of calm. Not even removing his finger from the tender embrace of her thighs as he serenely placed his order. Still somewhat shaken, Liz managed to blurt out the French words for her order. The waiter departed as quickly as he had arrived. Just as she allowed her thighs to relax, the wine waiter was back with two glasses of water, laden with ice cubes.

"Oh, Max," Liz groaned. "What are you doing to me?"

"I hope," he smiled, "I am showing you the best time in your life, n'est pas?"

"Oui, Max," Liz sighed.


The music in the background changed. At once, Liz recognized the opening refrain to the song that would forever remind her of the amazing night she surrendered her virginity to Max. La Vie en Rose.

"Max," Liz placed both hands on his arm. "Would you translate the words for me?"

"Bien sûr," Max nodded, looking up into the air in concentration.

His fingers, however, remained on the inside of Liz's thigh.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,
Voila le portrait sans retouche,
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens."

Max took a deep breath.

"I lower my eyes when I see him," he began, quickly filling the silences between verses. He leaned over and whispered the words hotly in her ear. "A nonchalant smile on his lips, here is the exact portrait, of the man to whom I belong."

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras,
Qu'il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et moi, ca me fait quelque chose.
Il est entré dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause.
C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui
Dans la vie.
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie.
Et, dès que je l'apercois,
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat."

"When he takes me in his arms, and talks to me in a deep voice, I see the world through rose tinted glasses." Max smiled at her. His fingers were still dancing over her soft, warm skin. "He talks to me about love, everyday conversation, it really does something to me. He has entered my heart. A piece of happiness, the roots of which I know. It's him for me, me for him, in life. He told me, swore it was for life. And as soon as I see him, I feel within me, my heart beating."

"Des nuits d'amour à ne plus finir,
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place,
Les ennuis, les chagrins s'effacent,
Heureuse, heureuse à en mourir."

"Nights of never ending love, immense happiness sets in, the worries and sorrows fade away. Happy, happy enough to die."

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras,
Qu'il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et moi, ca me fait quelque chose.
Il est entré dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause.
C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui
Dans la vie.
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie.
Et, dès que je l'apercois,
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat"

"When he takes me in his arms, and talks to me in a deep voice, I see the world through rose tinted glasses. He talks to me about love, everyday conversation, it really does something to me. He has entered my heart. A piece of happiness, the roots of which I know. It's him for me, me for him, in life. He told me, swore it was for life. And as soon as I see him, I feel within me, my heart beating. This last one is the same as the first time."

"Max," there was a tear in her eye. "She's singing about me, and my vacation in Paris. With you."

"Vraiment?" Max's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Oui," Liz nodded. "Bien sûr."

"Then I am glad that I am making you feel so good, but why is there a tear in your eye?"

"It's a tear of happiness, Max."

While he had translated the words for her, Max's fingers had continued to trace the skin above her stocking top. Her legs had parted, inviting him to explore further. She hoped no one could see underneath the tablecloth from the other side.


The waiter appeared again, to see if either of the diners needed anything. He departed after informing them that their entrees would be out momentarily. Liz smiled politely and tried not to moan as Max's fingers moved up to tease the edge of her lace thong panties. They were soaked. When he traced the contours of her lips, rubbing her panties against her, she wanted to cry out, but she held it in.

"Please, Max," she begged, "No."

She made no physical move to stop him, however.


The waiter arrived with the entrees. She looked up at Max who was licking his lips. As the plates were placed before them, Max's finger slipped under her panties and just inside of her wet lips. Trying not to arch up out of her chair, Liz focused on her plate and what she had ordered. Max's finger slid inside her, twisted slightly and then pulled out, leaving her empty. He returned straight away. Over and over, his fingers pressed inside her. She was soaking, her walls clutched at his finger. She was close.

"Max!" she panted. "I need you. Please?"

His finger vanished.


With wide, stunned eyes, Liz watched as Max slipped the tip of his wet finger into his mouth. She felt her body shiver as he slowly pulled his finger out. She wanted his lips on her, kissing her, sucking her. She wanted his tongue to lick her, tease her. She wanted him. She wanted his erection. She wanted his cock. And the meal had only just started.


They ate in a silence that could only be described as comfortable. His eyes never left her. Liz was trying to focus on eating but she wasn't doing a very good job. The portions were too big for Liz, and she had to surrender after she had cleared only half of her plate. Besides, her body was burning up, yearning for him to touch her again. Beneath the top of her dress, her nipples pounded.

As Max finished his meal, Liz watched him casually lift am ice cube from his water glass. The ice was melting, running down his fingers. When she saw his hand slip under the table, Liz's eyes widened. She knew what was coming. She knew exactly what to expect as his hand opened her legs. She nearly cried out as the cold burn slid across her pussy, still exposed when his finger had brought her close to an orgasm. His fingers pushed the melting ice inside her lips, running it up and down just inside of her. She was biting her lip to keep from screaming. She wanted to grind her hips and fuck his fingers. Instead, she grabbed her glass and gulped her wine.


His finger kept teasing her, pushing in and out of her hot depths. Her lips were numb from the ice. She was wet as much from her arousal as she was from the melt water. She could feel her orgasm beginning but he withdrew his finger again.

"No!" Liz tried to grab his arm to keep him there.

Smiling at her, he licked his fingers and called for the check. Liz sat there, not sure if she could stand it. She wanted to scream, to cry out. She wanted to jump Max's bones right there on the restaurant floor.


Max paid the check, and helped Liz from their booth. His hand lay gently on the small of her back as he guided her toward the door. Liz really didn't think her legs could carry her. She hoped that the men were all looking at her because she was attractive, and not because they had seen what Max had done to her. And she hoped even harder that the beads of moisture she felt running down her thighs were from the ice.

Max tormented her further when he stopped her at the front of the restaurant, under the gaze of the customers without booking lining up, hoping for a table.

"Oui, Monsieur?" a young lady dressed in an outfit that made her look more like a maid than a store assistant appeared from behind one of the units.

"Can I take a large selection box of your macaroons, please?"

When they stepped out into the Parisienne night air, Max called for a taxi.


* * *


As the taxi pulled up, Max leaned into Liz and whispered in her ear.

"You will come for me in the taxi," he promised.

Liz couldn't help the shiver that coursed through her body. Not from the cold, but from the anticipation. She could hardly believe that she was behaving like this. Max opened the door, allowing Liz to slide in first. She was glad that this would put her behind the driver. Max followed her into the corner, leaning over her.

"Hôtel du Vieux Paris," he told the driver.

As the taxi moved out onto the Champs-Elysées Max's hand was already at Liz's eagerly opening thighs.

"Oh, Max," she voice whispered. "Touch me."

She even slid her dress higher up. The cooler air made her skin tingle. Max wrapped his other hand behind her, his hand gently folding over her breast. His fingers felt hot as they softly moved further up her dress. They toyed with the garters holding her stockings. Traveling up her inner thigh, he started to stroke her.

His hand moved across her breast, pressing against the exposed skin at her side. Looking into each other's eyes, Max's hand slid under her dress and onto her naked breast while his fingers caressed her swollen lips, exposed by the panties pulled to one side. His finger brushed against her.

"Oh," a whispered sigh escaped her lips.

Max opened her legs wider with his fingers stroking her inner thighs, causing Liz's urgency to return. His fingers teased her hard nipple while he pushed her dress up a little way, exposing her wetness to the streetlight. When his finger returned to her burning clitoris, moving up and down and in small circles, Liz couldn't help her loud moan.

Max pressed his lips to hers. There was no teasing with the lips, no gentle requests for entrance, she sucked his tongue in eagerly. With little strokes, his fingers pushed inside her. Opening her legs wider, she arched as his finger eased its way inside her. With a slowness she thought would kill her, he stroked her tight walls, teasing her and pushing her. Outside, the traffic kept the taxi moving in a stop and start rhythm that kept Liz trapped at Max's mercy. Liz closed her eyes and moaned again, louder, into his mouth. His fingers were pinching her nipples.

She was rolling her hips into him, her orgasm building again. She wanted to climax, she had wanted it all night. His fingers flicked across her clitoris and then down inside her, returning to tease her hard little button again, pressing down on it. His tongue wrestled with hers as she clung to his head for dear life. Their breaths were jagged and raw as it sawed through their nostrils.

Liz kept moaning, pressing herself against his hand. Her eyes suddenly popped open, wide and unseeing. Her whole body froze. Even her tongue stopped motionless. A strange, low, deep throated growl echoed into Max's mouth, muffled and hidden by the drone of the engine. As Max had promised, Liz came. Hard. She was still climaxing when the car stopped.

Nous sommes arrivés," the driver announced. "L'Hôtel du Vieux Paris."


* * *


The journey up in the elevator had been another frenetic burst of activity as their hands sought out one another. A trail of clothing led from the doorway to the bed. Liz wanted no part of foreplay, she wanted Max inside her and she wanted him there now. He duly complied, and their lovemaking was wild, passionate and unbridled. If she was counting, she had lost count of her orgasms by the time Max finally came inside of her, gasping his love.

They laid on her bed in the darkness, in one another's arms, cuddling, kissing and generally exploring one another's bodies. When his finger dipped into her navel, causing her to giggle, Max pressed himself up onto one arm.

"Have you ever considered having the piercing here?" he asked, looking into her dark eyes.

"No," she shook her head.

"You would look delightful with a small dangling pendant, no?" he leaned down and blew against her. He moved up and kissed her nipple. "And here too. In fact, I will adorn all of you with jewelry that will mark you as mine."

"All of me, Max?"

"Okay," he conceded. "Here and here," he touched her nipples. "Here," he touched her navel. "And here," his finger pressed against the hood of her clitoris.

"Wouldn't that hurt?" she frowned.

"Je ne sais pas," he shook his head. "But we can find out, no? And then, Liz. You will become mine forever."

Liz's whole body tingled.

"What about you?" Liz looked at him archly.

"Ah ha!" Max grinned. "You are interested, no?"

Liz started to blush.

"What?" Liz complained. "Okay, so I saw a picture of this actor once. A real hunk, you know? And he had a nipple ring. Just one."

"And this aroused you?" his eyes were raised.

"Not like you do," she smirked. "But yeah."

"So the thought of me with a ring through my nipple? This makes you hot?"

"Yes," Liz nodded.

"And wet?"

"Oh, god yes!"

Max picked up one of Liz's hoop earrings from the bedside table and held it against his nipple.

"You like this?" he was trying to look at himself.

"Oh, god, Max," Liz grabbed him and pulled him down to her. "Fuck me! Fuck me, now!"


* * *

Hi everyone!

Before I start - you might like to know that this evening (7,00 pm EST) I will be taking part in a live chat with the members of a Roswell Web Site whose name eludes me (Lisalou - help???)- where I will be answering questions about my writing. I'm sure you will all be welcome to join in, and once I find out the web site, I will ad a post to this thread (unless someone else has already done so). Please come and talk as it will help keep me awake! 7.oo pm is Midnight here!

Okay, a lot of people have mentioned how Max and Liz don;t talk. So in this chapter, I make them talk. So there is not hot passion burning, no fiery lovemaking, no tender loving sex. Just the two of them talking. Hope you enjoy it.

For all of you who commented on the concierge situation, than that will become clear in this chapter, so...

maya - I don;t think Liz does, either.

MamaDee52 - Nope, my name's not Harry and the girl didn't get in touch. Narry a one

anonymousearfan - Thank you

Gater101 - Thank you

clueless - Thank you

Earth2Mama - I hope this post will prevent your evaporation then. Hey, never let it be said that WR didn't... Nah, let's not go there...

Emz80m - Like all of these little secrets, the longer she leaves it, the harder it's going to get to tell him.

roswellluver - Thank you

FSUMSW94 - So you could use a cool down too, huh?

lazza - It certainly could be interpreted that way, IF wax was hiding his truw self.

su-lyn - he he he - you mean, 'me' or Max?

begonia9508 - Yup. I think that it's going to be a different Liz that returns to Roswell. And pity the poor sap who has to fill Max;s shoes.

vampyrax - Tounge ring. Noted.

Ellie - Yes. I was determined that Liz would not just lie back and let things happen. She is Max's equal, as well as his pupil.

Michelle in Yonkers - Spooky. You read my mind!

martine - Have you never ridden in a taxi and made out on the back seat? You know darned well where the taxi driver's eyes were. And I've yet to meet a taxi driver ANYWHERE in the world who keeps his eyes on the road! And yes! The restaurant is LaDuree and I used a little artistic licence.

g7silvers - Thank you

smokie - A very well loved Liz Two parts? And you're here to tell the tale? Damn, I must write hotter stuff!

Roswell 10/2/00 - I see. Big bro thinks his sis is... innocent, huh? Okay, it's our secret. Glad you liked the translation, which was what actually inspired this story.

cherie - Yes, we should. {sigh}

BehrObsession - Glad you liked it.

SmileeUk - Yes, Effance was the name Max gave Liz when he introduced himself, remember?

Shadowlynxbehr - Oh my! I appear to be having rather a strange effect on everyone!

frenchkiss70 - He he he... I hear that sales of cigarettes have gone up since I started posting.

Erina - Heh heh - when I heard that the Pompidou Center was designed by an Englishman, suddenly, it made sense!

AJK001 - Well... just remember that even though it's different, it is still me writing this.




Running Authors Note.
When you see text in Italics, please assume that the speaker is talking in French. This saves me providing you with a translation. For those phrases that appear in French, if you really want to know what they mean, then I can recommend using http://babelfish.altavista.com/tr Select the "French to English", copy the text, press translate and voila!


Parisienne Walkways
By WR

olde.worlde@btinternet.com
http://www.olde.worlde.btinternet.co.uk



Part 9 - Singing in the Rain


Thursday - July 7th


Liz awoke once more to the sounds or Paris easing in to life. Again, Max was beside her in her bed, a feeling she was growing used to. If only she could always do this. As she had done the previous day, Liz studied his face. She smiled at the tiny mole by his lip, the only blemish of an otherwise perfect face. She brought her hand up to stroke the scar above her eye, the reminder of an accident with a swing when she was just four years old. She wondered if Max had noticed it.

A light tapping at her door roused her from her reverie. Frowning, she eased out of her bed, and still naked, crossed to the door and her short silk dressing gown. After belting it around her waist, she opened the door.

"Bonjour, Madame," Gilles was standing at the door with a tray laden with Croissants that looked like the ones Max had bought the other morning, and a pot of fresh coffee. The aroma reached her immediately. "Je laisse vos croissants et votre café ici."

"Uh," Liz glanced over her shoulder at Max, still asleep in bed. "Uhm... Merci."

She reached out for the tray and Gilles handed it to her. Giving her a smile and a mock salute, he turned for the elevators.

"Ah, bien," Max smiled as he stretched his sleepiness away. He looked like a tiger, stretching his muscles, ready for the hunt. "Le petit déjeuner est arrivé."

"Did you order this, Max?" Liz placed the tray on the bed and after slipping off her gown, sat down.

"Bien sûr," he nodded. "Yesterday morning, I am paying the concierge to order for us the croissants from the pâtisserie, and to be bringing them up with coffee."

"Do you always think of everything?" Liz laughed, ripping a piece of pastry and placing it in her mouth.

"This I try," Max nodded. "But alas, I am only human, n'est pas? I am able to make the mistakes. But you must know, that meeting you was not one of them."

She rewarded him by feeding him a piece of croissant and then lingering her hands over his face.

The breakfast, and the subsequent tender love making over, they made their way into the shower room. This morning, however, they could not contain themselves, and after their shaves, they were again making love in the shower cubicle.


* * *


Max's first stop when they left the hotel was Gaston's. Liz had elected to wear her white dress and white shoes, leaving her bra and her nylons behind. The day had a warm, muggy feel to it. Max was wearing tan slacks and loose, white shirt.

"Bonjour, Max," Gaston nodded. "Bonjour, Elizabeth," he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Bonjour," Liz blushed.

"I hope your wife didn't see that," Max laughed.

"Me too," he nodded. "But then again, she would like your Elizabeth just as much, eh? So, two coffees?"

"Please," Max nodded.

"Oh, and I printed off those photographs for you," Gaston turned back, halfway back to the cafe. "She's very photogenic, no? Pity you're in some of them. But she will have wonderful pictures to remind her of her holiday in Paris. Do you want them now?"

"Can you send them over to her hotel?" Max shook his head. "Room 1018."


"So what are our plans today?" Liz loved that she had no idea what Max had set up for their days.

She wondered if he even knew himself, or made his mind up on a daily basis.

"I thought we might spend the morning in the park," Max smiled, his eyes returning to hers. He reached across and took her hand. "Le Jardin du Luxembourg."

"It sounds nice," Liz moved her chair closer to Max.

"Ah, oui," he nodded. "It does."


Before they left, Gaston gave Max a picnic hamper.

"Merci, Gaston," Max smiled.

"I think you're crazy," Gaston spun his finger around his temple. "It's going to rain."

"What do you know?" Max looked up at the large white clouds in the blue sky. "You've only live in Paris your whole life."

"Which is a lot longer than you," Gaston rolled his eyes. "And I tell you. It will rain."


Hand in hand, Max led Liz toward the Cathedral before he turned away down the Boulevard St Michel.

"On this side," Max pointed to the right, "is St Germain. But on this side, is the famous Latin Quarter. And see there?" Max pointed to a side street on the left. "La Place de la Sorbonne. You have heard of the Sorbonne, no?"

"It's a university, isn't it?" Liz's eyes narrowed as she searched her memory.

"Oui," Max nodded. "Like Harvard, or Yale, only much, much older. La Sorbonne was, I think, created in the thirteenth century."

"That's old," Liz nodded. "That's really old."


* * *


When they stepped past the huge wrought iron gates, painted in black and gold, it was almost as if they had entered a strange new world. The trees that lined the park seemed to act as some sort of sound barrier. Right in front of her, a long narrow pool of water led to a statue on a tall plinth, dappled by the shade of immense Plane trees.

"This is La Fontaine de Médicis," Max informed her. "She is known as one of the most romantic rendez-vous in Paris. You see there?" Max pointed to some white statues. "They are the lovers, Acis and Galataea about to be ambushed by the jealous Cyclops, Polyphemus."

Throughout the park, marble men and women stood ageless sentry duty, big enough for a Cecil B. de Mille costumier. Around the central basin, a vast pond, upon which floated little boats with small children, stood figures of the great women of France. Even the hated Marie de Médicis, Regent to Louis XIII. It was Marie who had the Palais du Luxembourg built, the gardens of which they now stood. In the trees toward Rue.Guyenemer,at the western edge of the park, Max pointed Liz toward a miniature version of The Statue of Liberty.

"Bertholdi," Max explained, "the man who built the statue, he modelled her on his mother, no? And then he gradually made her bigger. There is another on the Ile de Cygnes and of course, there is a much bigger one somewhere else." Max waved his hand in the air. "But that one, she is unimportant, no?"

"I wonder where that could be?" Liz's eyes sparkled.

As lunchtime neared, Max steered Liz toward a sheltered nook at the edge of the trees.

"Do you think it might rain?" Liz looked up at the gray clouds rolling in.


* * *


The first thing in the basket was a blanket. Max unfolded this and laid it on the ground. This was followed by a crusty stick of bread, a couple of cheeses, some ham, a bottle of red wine and a box of strawberries.

"I love strawberries," Liz's eyes grew wide.

"This I know," Max nodded. "And because you have their fragrance, so do I."

She poured them another glass of wine each, and she settled down so that Max could lay back with his head in her lap.

"Tell me about yourself, Max," Liz was suddenly aware that she didn't know too many details about him.

He remained silent for a moment, looking up into Liz's eyes while she studied his face, where her hands were caressing him.

"My family are minor dignitaries in the government," he shrugged. "I was born here in Paris but when I turned fourteen, I was sent away to school. I come to Paris for the holidays, no? To be with ma mère et père. And now, I am at university. I do not know for certain what it is I wish to do, but my parents, they want me to go into politics like my father."

Liz lifted a strawberry and offered it to his lips. He ate it delicately from her fingers. When he was finished, Liz leaned down and licked the juice from his lips. She then offered him another. Sometimes, she ate one, and offered Max her lips for him to lick. All the while, she stroked his forehead. Around them, the people in the park went about their normal business. This time together felt so precious to Liz. Something she would look back on for the rest of her life.


They were so lost in one another that they didn't notice when the people started leaving. They weren't even aware that the gray clouds had completely hidden the sun. Neither had they noticed the loss of light. Not until the large drops of rain started to fall, startling them, did they jump up to gather their belongings. Cramming everything into the basket and grabbing the blanket, he reached for Liz's hand and they ran, laughing, toward the trees and cover.

They didn't stop until they were among the cover provided by the broad branches of the huge trees. They could see that the park was empty now. The rain was driving down. Liz turned to grin at Max, finding that as always, he was watching her. Used to seeing the steady adoration she felt from him, she was a little startled, and incredibly aroused by the desire she saw there. As she cast her eyes down, she saw the reason for his reaction. The rain had made her dress turn transparent. It molded to her breasts, showing the dark shadow of her erect nipples, clinging to her hips and to the white triangle of her thong, covering the place of her pleasure.

No words were exchanged; none were needed. Smiling softly, she stepped up to him, and placed a warm, wet kiss on his mouth. While her hands cradled his face, she started nibbling and sucking at his lips. The basket and the blanket fell to the ground. Slowly dropping to her knees, Liz left a trail of kisses down his shirt covered chest. Looking up into his eyes, Liz unfastened his pants and pulled the waistband of his boxers low over his erection. She wrapped her hand around him and slowly moved it up and down. Releasing him, Liz pushed her finger into her mouth before moving it over the head of his manhood, lightly tracing around the rim.

"Mon dieu!" Max gasped. "Be careful Liz. You are playing with the fire, no?"

With her eyes smiling at him, Liz leaned forward and flicked her tongue over his erection. Her own femininity was crying out now, but she resisted the urge to touch herself. That was Max's job. Taking him into her mouth, her tongue started to weave a spell on him. When she started to move her head over his shaft, his hand lightly held her.

"Ah, oui, Liz," he groaned. "J'ai envie de toi, désespérément."

"Do you like that?" she released him for a moment.

"Like is too weak a word to use, Liz," Max's eyes glowed with desire.


Liz's hand held him firmly as it moved in time with her mouth. Her tongue caressed the underside of his hardness as she reached for as much of him as she could. Sliding her lips all the way off of him, she licked down the underside, and gently took one of his sensitive orbs into her mouth. Max cried out and had to lean back against the tree for support. She teased him with her tongue before she worked her way back up his hardness and again enveloped him.

She rubbed his tip over her lips, her tongue snaking out to taste him as she slid him back into her mouth. With her lips gripping him firmly, she started to move her hand in time with her mouth again. She pulled off of him, leaving her hand to minister to his needs, and looked up at him to see if he was enjoying this. She could see that he was, and the way he was looking at her sent spasms of joy deep into her core.

"Regarde dehors, bébé" Max gasped loudly. "Bébé. I am coming."

Liz held him, pulling him into her. This time she was ready. When Max climaxed, she knew what to expect and this time, she didn't choke. This time, she took it all and devoured his offering.

"Ah, Liz, ma chérie," Max caressed her hair while she eased him from her mouth. "You are so wonderful. But now, it is your turn, no?"

"Yes," Liz nodded, rising to her feet.

She wondered, however, just what he had in mind. Max pressed his lips on her damp forehead. He kissed her eyelids and then the bridge of her nose. The tip of her nose was next, and then he leaned toward her lips.

Beyond the edge of the trees, it was pouring now. Breaking from Max's kiss, she grinned at him, walking backwards from the trees, slinking her hips sensuously as she went. Liz spread out her arms, tilted her head back and let the rain wash over her.

Max watched from under the trees as she ran her fingers through her now drenched hair. It was as if she were moving in slow motion. She ran her hands over her face, fingers tracing her lips. She opened her mouth to catch the rain as it fell, bouncing off her tongue. Her eyes were closed. Liz ran her hands down her chest. Her dress was completely wet and her nipples showed through as they pressed against the fabric that clung to her skin. Her hands continued down her stomach to the top of her hips and then back up again, retracing the path over her breasts to her face and through her hair again. She opened her arms wide once more and began to twirl in slow circles, head toward the sky, the rainwater cascading down her body.

"Come and play in the rain, Max," she pouted. "I'm getting lonely.

"You want to play in the rain?" Max raised an eyebrow. "Bien. Then we shall play in the rain."


He could no longer contain himself. Max left the protection of the tree and joined her in the rain. They embraced and he kissed the droplets from her forehead, cheeks, and the tip of her nose and finally her lips. They kissed deeply as the rain continued to drench them both. He reached behind her and taking the hem of her dress in his hands, lifted it over her head as she raised her arms to help him. He followed the trickles of rainwater that flowed over her breasts with his tongue, stopping to take each nipple in his mouth, sucking and gently nibbling. He kissed down between her breasts toward her belly button, kneeling as he did.

"Mmmmm," Liz sighed. "This is what I call playing."

Max took hold of the waist of her panties, sliding them off over her hips and down her legs. She balanced herself on his shoulder to step out of them. It felt strangely erotic to be standing totally naked in the middle of a public park in the middle of Paris. A thrill raced through her veins. She stood above him, legs slightly spread. He placed his hands on her knees, slipped them inside, behind her legs and up the backs of her thighs to her backside. Liz spread her legs just a bit more as his tongue found her clitoris.

"Oh, yes!" she sighed, holding Max's broad shoulders for support.

He flicked back and forth with the tip of his tongue held firm. Then tracing her lips he tasted the sweet mixture of rainwater and her juices. He pressed his face deeper between her legs, feeling her hands in his hair, pulling him to her. His tongue now deep inside her, moved in circles, sliding along the inner walls of her depths, feeling her squeeze down hard around it. She cried her pleasure to the rain gods.

Liz's knees became weak as Max continued his passionate assault. The rain continued to splash on their bodies, but they were oblivious to it. She lowered herself down to the grass, on her back, knees bent, and his head still buried between her legs. He concentrated on her hard little button with his tongue as he slid two fingers deep inside her, pumping them slowly at first then faster and faster.

Max started to build up a rhythm of licking and sucking at her clitoris. Her breathing got faster so he pause for a second and then plunged his tongue deep within her, wriggling it around inside her. Liz squealed and start to claw at Max's head. Without warning, he pulled away and knelt up above her, leaving her gasping for breath. She moaned in frustration with the movement of his warm wet mouth away from her pussy, arching up wondering where he was going.

"Fuck me?" she begged. Her eyes were wide and round. "Please?"


Max couldn't explain how gloriously sexy her breasts looked, damp, glistening and heaving up and down and she gasped for breath. He stopped for a moment to take in just how gorgeous she looked. Pushing his pants and his boxers to his knees, Max lowered himself to Liz's body. Her arms reached up to welcome him, pulling his face to hers.


His mouth captures hers in a deep kiss that allows her to taste herself as he positioned himself above her. He paused, as if asking her permission. Surely he didn't think she would want this to stop? She lifted herself up, arching her back and pulling him fully, deeply into her in one swift movement, almost surprising them both. Liz held him there deep within her, and she knew he could feel her close around him. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks, not allowing him to withdraw. Liz pulled him into her a little more and lifting her hips, grinding her very swollen button into his pelvic bone. It felt really good to have him so fully inside her, stretching her. At the same time Liz was using her muscles to tighten and relax around his shaft...almost toying with him. Could she feel his swollen head pulsing and enlarging within her or was that just her imagination?

Liz rocked against him while she held him captive he deepened their kiss, if that was even possible. She held him captive deep within her, pulsing her muscles around him, but she could tell by the tightening in his jaw that he was coming to his limit. Without a word, his eyes demanded his release, and she knew that she was in for it now. Liz's insides purred with delight. Putting on her brightest smile, she slid her fingernails up from his buttocks over his back lightly scratching his skin the whole way. Liz could see the intensity in his eyes. This was not going to be a slow lovemaking session. There was too much electricity now.

Her smile widened with delight as she released him from her grip.


Max rested his weight on one hand, holding both of hers together above her head. The fingertips of the other hand passed down her entire upper body starting at her chin, down over one of her nipples where he lightly flicked a nail over the very top which caused her to arch up into him with pleasure. Liz could feel him, letting her know who is really in charge here. Her body shudders with need. Max's fingertips continue to move down past her breast and over her rib cage where his hand molded around her side. His fingers continued to slide down to her protruding hip bone and then back beneath my buttocks where she felt him flex his hand open for a moment, just like a cat before gripping her buttock and squeezing none too lightly. His hand seemed to be mocking her. That was when she realized.

He had her pinned.

He had her wet.

And he had her wanting.

And Max had all the control.

She smiled.

Returning her smile he began to move within her. They both knew that this was going to be good. Each stroke of his was full and deep, slow at first and very deliberate. She tightened her insides around him, loving the friction he was causing and wanting to pleasure him more as well. Max's pace quickened, and Liz could feel that she was at the edge of her climax.

"Love me bébé," she begged. "Love me! I'm so close, Max."


Liz could feel his thrust become even harder as he pinned her to the grass. She knew that he was close as well. She could feel him enlarge within her, just as she had swollen even more around him. Her nails dug into his back. Max was pounding into her almost animal like. Her hips were arching, rising to meet him as the intensity of the first waive of her climax gripped her. Liz's thrusts continue deep within her as her waves of pleasure crashed over her. She could tell that Max had been holding back, waiting for the first signs of her climax. As soon as her high pitched wail signified her orgasm, Max followed her.


She could feel his hot fluids flooding within her only an instant after she heard his intense groan. Liz wrapped her legs around him again and held him close as she continued to feel him move within her, slowly regaining control. She liked being able to make him lose control... even if it is just for a few moments.


"How are we going to get home, Max?" Liz giggled as she licked his ear. "My dress is soaking wet and I'm all muddy and covered in grass."

"You, mon peu de bébé de l'eau," Max's hot rasping breath gasped, "can start the new fashion trend, no?"


* * *


Max solved Liz's dilemma by helping her into her soaking dress and then wrapping the damp blanket around her. Her heart burst over his concern at appearing so naked in the street. The staff at the hotel, along with a number of guests sheltering from the rain in the lobby stared in astonishment at the two drowned rats who walked through them as though nothing had happened. Once in the lift, they burst out laughing.

"I really need a hot shower," Liz had a dreamy smile as she opened her door and made her way to the bathroom.


* * *


That evening, under a brighter sky with the clouds having departed, Max led Liz by the hand through the narrow, cobbled streets of the Latin Quarter. The brightly lit café's and bars had spilled out onto the streets, their tables and chairs allowing only a narrow gap for the pedestrians to pass. With the assorted languages being spoken, it was almost as if they had wandered into some form of United Nations outing. They wandered through the streets allowing Liz to absorb the whole ambience. They ate at a small restaurant that seemed to be filled with locals rather than tourists, called Chez Henri on the Rue de la Montagne.

"What do you study, Max?" Liz looked over the burning candle at Max's eyes.

In this light, they looked like thick Maple syrup.

"Apart from you, you mean?" Max grinned, sliding his hand up her arm from across the table. "I am studying the politics, and the law."

"Wow," Liz nodded. "So, do you plan to go into politics? You mentioned it earlier, but you never said if that was what you wanted. Or would you prefer to practice law?"

Max seemed to think long and hard before he answered.

"This I am not sure," he finally nodded. "I remember that I have hardly seen my father, even when I am at home, no? He is always working. And this I think of law, too. Always with the reading and preparing and no time for the home life. What is the point of getting married and having the children if you are never at home to enjoy them? I want to do something where I can go home and play with my children and then make love with my wife." He started to grin. "Not necessarily in that order."

"So, you do want to get married, then?"

"But of course," Max nodded, his fingers caressing her ring finger. "Is this not the same for you?"

Liz gave a soft snort.

"We'll see," she replied cryptically.

"Tell me about you, Liz," Max deftly left the topic that seemed to cause her some distress. "Tell me about your life."

"Let's see," Liz took a deep breath. "I grew up as an only child. My Mom and Dad owned a couple of small diners, and some tacky tourist traps in Roswell. Then one day, I was about ten, this British guy comes into town. He had this fascination for all things alien related, and bought everything from my Mom and Dad. They invested the money, and we are able to live off of the income. I mean, we're not rich, but we do okay."

"And this is paying for your vacation, no?" he smiled.

"No," Liz shook her head. "The vacation was a we... a welcome gift from my grandmother. She spent some time here in Paris, just after the war, and she said that everyone should see Paris at least once in their life. She set up this trust fund when I was born. Two, actually. One to support me in college and another to send me to Paris. So she paid for us to come here."

"Us?" Max frowned. "Your grandmother and you?"

Liz closed her eyes at her lapse, bit her bottom lip and looked away.

"Something came up," Liz was burning bright red.

"And the boys back home," Max smiled. "They are heartbroken that you are here with me, n'est pas?"

"Probably," Liz was feeling better. Max had let her momentary awkwardness pass. "But back home, they are just boys, Max. Trust me when I say that there isn't a single boy back home that holds my heart. You do."

"This is only fair," Max chuckled. "Because you are in possession of mine since I have seen you at Gaston's table. So what is it you will study in college?"

"Micro biology," Liz looked down at the table.

"Mon dieu," Max shook his head. "And you will be working in the laboratory, no? You will be staying until it is almost midnight, and come home tired from trying to cure the cancer, and have no time for your husband who has been waiting patiently all evening after a hard day of law."

"When you put it like that..."

"No, no, no," Max shook his head. "I was only teasing. Liz, you do whatever it is you feel you can do. And do it for yourself, not because someone wants you to do it. If your husband does not like it that you wish to cure the cancer and so work the long hours, and he never sees you, he does not deserve to be your husband."

"That's..." Liz didn't know what to say. "That's a load of bull, Max. There isn't a man alive who would put up with a wife like that."

"This is true," Max nodded. "And sadly," he sighed, "I would not like that at all. It is as I said. Why bother getting married if you do not see each other? Better to be lovers and make the arrangements in the book to see each other and make love on Wednesday the fifteenth at eleven thirty five."

"Now you're just teasing me," Liz smirked.

"We will both be needing someone special, no?" Max smiled.

"I never said I was going to be the kind of person who worked late every night," Liz defended.

"But you are someone full of passion, Liz," Max gave her a gentle smile. "Whether you are making love, or finding the cure for cancer, you will do it with all the passion you have. And who looks at the clock when passion, she is burning, no?"

"I suppose," Liz nodded. "So what do you suggest?"

"I suggest, ma cherie," Max gazed deep into her eyes, "that you do what is in your heart. The rest will follow."


* * *


The moonlit night surrounded her frame as she stood on the railing of the balcony, looking out at the Parisienne nightscape. The short skirt of her black slip nightdress was billowing from her as the breeze whispered through it. Falling off of her shoulders were the slim spaghetti straps of the thin fabric, threatening to allow her gentle twin mounds to escape. Still perched on her high heels, she studied the brightly-lit buildings that surrounded her.

"Has it always been so beautiful," she asked over her shoulder to Max, who was standing in the open doorway, drinking in her splendor. "Or is it just love that makes things look so much better...so much brighter? Is it just la vie en rose?"

She pressed against the wrought iron railing, her hands holding tight, steadying her posture as she watched a brightly lit boat float by on the river.


Max moved up behind her on the balcony, allowing her to press back and mold her body to his with a warm sigh. In his hand he held the green stem of a white rose. He ran the tight petals up and down her arm, silk upon silk, he thought. She started to turn to face him, but his hand stopped her, holding her securely in place along the railing. His body moved forward.... his manly physique pressing her. With one hand snaked around her stomach and the other tormenting her senses with the rose, his body pressed into hers pinning her against the cold railing.

"Max," Liz leaned her head back against him.

Her hands lifted and draped over his, the one with the rose, moving in synchronized rhythm with his over her body. Max released the rose, allowing Liz to clasp it. She twirled it under her nose, taking in its delightful scent. His fingers drew up the sides of her legs and under the silk nightdress that attempted to cover them. He hooked his thumbs within the slim black bikini panties she wore.

"Mon bel ange..." he whispered. "Tu es exquise dans le clair de lune."

His thumbs looped the tiny fabric and Max slid them down her toned legs to her ankles. Stepping out of them, heat burned in her face, her eyes lowered. She could feel that he too was feeling the flames that rose between them.

Standing behind her again, a soft flick of his hand and her long soft strands of hair were thrust to the side as his mouth lowered to her neck. She twisted her head to allow him full access to her. While gentle soft kisses trailed along the smooth contours of the perfect curve, his hands continued their upwards travels, now without any barrier as he explored the smooth flesh beneath.

Liz gasped quietly; his hands were electric on her body, sending shivers throughout her. The crisp night air caused her already erect nipples to strain upon the fabric of their silken prison. And then nothing. His hands left her body in what Liz could only call erotic torture... but still torture all the same. She tried to turn again. Was he a dream? Reality? Fantasy? She held the rose and inhaled its fragrance...her body unable to move, calming herself with its scent.


And then heaven. His lips again careened to collide with the softness of her neck, kissing up to just below her ears, teasing with her lobes. Max's hands slipped over the silk prison once more to give his lover what she so desperately craved. Slowly they moved up her frame, coming to play upon her firm, erect nipples that almost sprung between his fingers, grateful for the attention. He played with them, pinching lightly, turning them between strong fingers... tugging a little. She ached for his lips upon them, wanting to turn and beg for the kiss that would send her to heaven. It was not to be... yet. He held her firm.

Nibbling upon the flesh of her neck, his hands disappeared once more. She whimpered some more.

"Patience bébé," her murmured against her neck. "Good things come to those who wait, no?"

"I know," Liz sighed. "I would wait an eternity for you, Max."

Max smiled. His hands reappeared on her thighs, running up their length, the slightest touch of his fingernails leaving contrails of passion engraved in her warm skin. They continued to rise, maintaining contact with her flesh, dragging the black silk with him. Finally, he slid a finger over her smooth flesh. There were no barriers, just the wet smooth flesh of her nether lips. Again she whimpered and fell back into his strong form. His smile broadened. His fingers continued to probe the soft regions before one invaded the space between and slid slowly inside her; bathing in her heated lust as it probed deeper into her.

"Max!" her body shivered; she ached for release... she ached for him.

"You are ready for me, no?" his hot voice burned through her.

All she could do was nod. A speck of blood appeared on her finger where she had been gripping the thorny stem. He removed his hands from her and clasped the silhouetted nightdress that fell over her body. Gently, teasingly, he slid it up and over her body, exposing her beauty to the elements... to the night... to Paris. He discarded the black fabric to the side and stepped back, admiring her form from behind. Her skin displayed like a porcelain doll placed upon a thick black velvet blanket. Chocolate tresses hung past her shoulders, caressing moonlight washed over her smooth firm buttocks, long shadows cast over her silken toned legs that finished with small narrow feet covered by her black shoes. His face showed his desire, his love for her.

"Exquisite" he shook his head.

Liz could hardly contain the rush as she stood on the balcony. Naked. Anyone below could look up and see her. She was about to protest, but she felt his hand at her shoulders, pressing her lovingly, gently against the railing. She bent forward for him, her body opening to him. With a naked foot he pushed her feet apart, her lips blossoming like a flower heavily laden with sweet nectar. It was beckoning for Max's touch like a real flower beckons a bee. She needed pollinating. While his finger slid along the length of her swollen lips, he knelt behind her.

Her eyes closed tightly and she released a loud gasp to the sensation behind her, under her, through her. It was his lips, his mouth, and his tongue that she had been craving that were right now, obliging her. He tasted her sweet femininity as it coated his tongue, dipping inside her, probing her, teasing her. Her body reacted in kind, a soft shudder coursed through her. Her knees buckled slightly as he held her firmly around her waist. He drank of the fruits of his labor as it washed his tongue.

"Yes, there," Liz mewed into the night. "Oh, right there."

His fingers elevated up her body and probed at her breasts, molding them and caressing them at will. Having had his fill of her sweet nectar, Max's tongue slid upward, over her perineum and for the briefest of touches, teased her other small opening. Liz's body jerked in response as she cried out. Then he stood behind her. The rose was still gripped in her hand as she leaned over cold wrought iron railing. She felt him moving behind her. She felt... ecstasy.

She could feel his naked body pressing against her. Holding himself at her lips, he pushed gently and he was inside. Moving torturously slow he eased the head inside her swollen lips and filled her. Her heat surrounding him, contrasted by the cool night air sent a shiver down his spine. That slight movement filled him with exquisite ecstasy. He wanted her as much as she craved him.

Max's hands fell to her waist, slowly guiding himself further into the hot chasm that was his reward as much as it was hers. Liz's body constricted tightly around him, pulling him deeper. She rolled her hips against him. Tightly embracing that gift he gave her until inevitably, he began to withdraw and then, almost leaving her empty, he reentered again. She gasped as he invaded her further with each powerful stroke of his thick, smooth muscle. The rose fell from her hand, landing somewhere below. He pressed himself deeply inside of her and paused, his eyes welling with love, lust, greed, need, it didn't matter. She was his. And he was hers.

He rocked in and out of her, her body moving to capture him each time. His manhood bathed in glorious heated moisture and it increased with every stroke. Max's legs contracted and pressed the full way, a little harder a little more urgent. Fleshy white mounds glistened in the moonlight, creamy smoothness of taut buttocks that rippled with each thrust and a catlike purr emanated through her body. In a heated moment, her body rocked like a tree in a violent storm. Liz's knees buckled. He would not let her fall not now. He held her within his powerful hands and continued his relentless pounding. It was his need now that propelled him. He felt the tightening deep within him, felt himself growing again inside her smooth walls.

"Oh, Max!" unable to contain her approaching climax, her voice cried out. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

He moved with practiced care and hurried the pursuit of his intent. He was aware that should anyone look up, that they would make a beautiful picture on that balcony. She moaned, her body reacting to him. His release ever closer, he playfully spanked her.

"Not so loud," he warned. "You will draw the crowd, no?"

She only cried out again.

One, two, three strokes later she felt his fingers dig tightly into her waist, she felt him swell inside her. She pounded back against him...urging him on, pushing for his release, to feel the hot liquid reverberate out from him. His gift to her, hers to him.

Liz felt her orgasm crash into her. Her whole body shuddered, and she was not sure if she had cried out into the night or not. Her whole mind went black and she saw the birth of the brightest of stars. Born and reborn. Max grunted and collapsed over her back momentarily before slowly easing himself from her. Catching her breath, Liz turned and knelt in front of him. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight as they gazed up at his dark ones. Her lips turned up in a wicked grin. While Max reached out to caress her face, Liz lowered her mouth over him, moving around his spent member as he stood and watched her. Her tongue snaked around the head and slid slowly down to the base, lapping the cocktail of juices that had flowed between them.

Liz belonged to him.

Max smiled. He belonged to her.

And together, they belonged to Paris. Pour l'éternité.


* * *


So I lied! Sue me! But they DID talk!