August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over

Romance in Paris

9 Comments

No need for an age advisory on this story—no explicit descriptions of sex. It’s a little different than my usual erotic fiction, but I wanted to try a different take. This piece of fiction is about a married couple taking a vacation in Paris.


* * * * *

Romance in Paris

“I don’t really think it matters,” Carla said. “The effect’s the same, so why question it?”

“Curiosity,” Glenn replied. “Don’t you wonder if we feel romantic in Paris because we’re expected to? I mean, it’s got this reputation attached to it that it’s the most romantic place on Earth, so when you get off the plane, you’re automatically in that mind set. And when you walk on the streets, it’s like you’re then fulfilling the reputation because you think you’re supposed to feel that way.”

“Seriously?” she asked and took a sip of the coffee that smelled heavenly but didn’t taste that way. “You’re over-thinking it.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I’m … I’m merely questioning the feeling. I’m curious if Paris should live up to the reputation. That’s all. Isn’t that a fair thing to do?”

“But this is only our second day, and—”

Her sentence ended abruptly as he tore off a third of his croissant, causing an eruption of tiny tan flakes to spray across the small cafe table, with many of the flakes landing on Carla’s plate that carried another croissant.

At first, she frowned. But that frown was short-lived, while she stared down at the flake-spotted table and a thought occurred to her. And that thoughtful expression was also short-lived, as her face clearly showed her enjoyment over the notion in her head.

She looked up at him, saying, “Promise me something.”

“What’s that?” he asked while chewing on the croissant.

“That you won’t over-analyze all week.”

“I don’t see what the harm is in some critical thinking.”

Carla rested both of her hands on his hand and clasped it tenderly. “Because you’re not giving into the romance. You’re not giving into Paris.”

“You mean I’m not giving into—”

She squeezed his hand a little harder. “Hold on. I’m not finished. I’m saying is that if you think about it too hard, you’re missing out. You’re missing out on all the reasons why Paris has the reputation in the first place. The beauty of the city. The gorgeous old architecture everywhere you look. The history. The food. Come on, you can’t deny that dinner last night was incredible.”

“Of course, I said so last night.”

“But it’s not just that. It’s the cheese. The wine. The chocolates. Oh my God, that chocolate shop yesterday.” Her lips spread into a smile as she remembered the shop. “You miss out on the spirit of the place when all you do is think about it.”

His expression had softened as he let her words simmer in his mind. “Well, I do like that idea.”

“Of course you do. Just like you liked how your croissant burst all over the place. That right there is what I’m talking about. You could get upset and see that as a mess. Or … you could see that as a burst of sensuality. A burst of fresh, wonderful food.” One of her eyebrows raised. “A burst of pleasure.”

A smile teased at half of his mouth. “I certainly didn’t over-analyze last night, did I?”

“Hardly. Not over dinner, nor at the hotel. That’s what I’m hoping for this week. Not more of this morning-after analysis.”

He nodded once, emphatically. “Deal. I’ll turn off my brain and give into the place.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to turn off your brain. I need that sexy brain of yours fully on. Because if Paris doesn’t turn on your brain, what will?”

“Philosophy.”

“I meant turn on like sexually.”

“Oh. Then you’ve got me there.”

“And if you have any doubts, remember that croissant. Remember our wine last night. Remember the lingerie I wore last night.”

His expression turned dreamy. “That was very nice. Very, very nice.”

“I’ll be buying more of that. Because Paris has gorgeous lingerie ripe for the picking. And that’s yet another tip for it living up to its reputation.”

His eyes sparkled, and he ate the croissant, this time not bothering to rip off a part with his fingers, but biting off a piece with his teeth, and enjoying the burst of flakes that sprayed onto the table.

End

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Author: augustmacgregor

I'm a writer of erotica and romantic fiction.

9 thoughts on “Romance in Paris

  1. Ah, mon ami – Paris c’est tres delicieux, je pense. Lovely snippet 😉

    Like

  2. Pingback: Paris Cafes | August MacGregor

  3. Beautifully done, and you write men very well.

    Like

  4. Pingback: Coffee & Croissants | August MacGregor

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