Friday Night in Paris

I managed to clamber out of the car with aching muscles and Francky took me up to his place. Well, his room actually. It was a little like University Halls of Residence, but Francky's room was also a shrine to all things Western, in particular Wyoming.

The room was crammed with paraphernalia; flags, spurs, horseshoes, statuettes. Every available space was covered with bits and bobs from his travels. A single bed was under the eaves, a one ring hob was squeezed in the corner and there was a sofa covered in North American blankets with a Numnah and saddle on each arm. Photos covered a pin board, and I was surprised to see that I had made it on to the wall of fame. A plasma screen TV was perched in one corner, looking oddly out of place.

We both needed to shower and get changed. Now this was a rather odd experience. The barracks are men only, the bathroom was down the hall and I wasn't allowed to be in the bathroom on my own. Those were the rules. I didn't ask why and now feel i should've done...I ended up having a shower in a cubicle next to my French companion. With him serenading me. Badly!

As we got ready to go out Francky rang a few friends (all women) asking what they were up to and if they wanted to come out dancing. He was also ringing them to find out the address of the salsa club he planned on taking me later. In the end only one girl came out with us, Beatrice. Francky had been reluctant to ring her as he had avoided her calls for two weeks. And she wasn't very happy about it.

Francky explained their relationship to me. She wasn't his girlfriend. She had a boyfriend. And a lover. And then him. Basically if neither were around she'd call Francky and complain about both her boyfriend and her lover. Francky and Beatrice would inevitably end up in bed together.

A bit greedy, i thought!

Anyway, we all met up in Saint Michel and went to an amazing fondue restaurant. I tried some of Francky's l'Escargot (with my eyes closed) which were just like eating chewy garlic. Francky, ever the gentleman, wouldn't let me pay. Beatrice didn't get the same kindness, it has to be said... I'm not sure she was bothered though.

After the restaurant we went to the club. It was small, loud and sweaty. And everyone was dancing. It had a great atmosphere and after we fought our way to the bar, i found myself being propelled on to the dance floor. It seemed that French guys were just as eager to dance as the women were. In fact, everyone on the floor had a dance partner. Francky grabbed me and swung me around. To be honest, he did everything possible to cop a feel. And I let him. Well! He did buy me dinner, and he was a good dancer!

When I needed to catch a breath and wipe the perspiration off my brow (girls don't sweat), we managed to find a spot to sit. Beatrice had been accosted by some short fellow and they were still dancing. As she came back to the table, Francky asked if i wanted to dance again. I said i needed a few more minutes so he pulled Beatrice on to the floor instead. I noticed that there was much less groping going on. In fact, if possible, he looked a little uncomfortable. As i began to people watch i guy came up to my table and i think he asked me to dance, i'm not quite sure. I shook my head. He persisted. Beatrice grinned at me.
"ok" I said, not entirely sure what i was agreeing to.

We danced for about two minutes before the song ended and Francky cut in. He seemed a little protective, but i was glad. I'd rather have had Francky groping me than some complete stranger!

As the night drew on we danced to Salsa, Cuban music, Caribbean dance music a bit of French RnB (as far as i could make out) and we hardly drank a thing. Dancing was more important than drinking it seemed.

We left before the lights came on and I was happy as i had begun to flag. I had been up almost 24 hours and had been more physically active in those 24 hours than i'd been all week.

Francky drove us home, dropping Beatrice outside the Moulin Rouge. She doesn't live there, it was just that the traffic was bad! The neon lights and Sex shops entertained me on the drive back to Francky's.

As i got into the single bed he tucked me up tight and planted kisses all over my neck. He knew that was all he was allowed. I'd made it pretty clear earlier in the night when he was girating against me. He slept on the sofa and i, rather guilty, slept in his bed, dreaming of dancing, beaches and the Eiffel Tower.