Michelle stood in front of the wide windows of her Parisian hotel room and wondered why Paris was known as a city for lovers when she was there alone on her vacation. Of course, she had seen all the wonders of the beautiful city, had visited landmarks and had viewed paintings. But she’d spent every night alone, having found nothing appealing in the clubs and other nightlife. The curvy young woman was looking for something different, a lover, not a casual acquaintance.
Her eyes went to the midnight sky, and she closed them, remembering the wish she’d made that day, throwing a coin into a fountain on the streets of Paris. “I wish...I wish I could have the passion I hoped to find here in Paris.”
Michelle opened her eyes again and was staring at the heavy gray clouds in the midnight sky and lights of the city once again. She sighed, and shook her head at her own foolishness. It was time for bed, she’d spent enough time gazing out the window and wishing about wishes. Walking over to the doorway, she checked the locks, then brushed the lights off with her hand, walking back to the bed. Her soft sweater came off over her head, her shoulder length hair falling over the straps of her black lace bra, and her fingers slid open the zipper of her pants, revealing a pearl trimmed G-string as she pushed her jeans down her legs.
She froze as she heard an audible sigh behind her, and the young woman straightened as she turned around. There was someone else in the room with her, someone who she hadn’t found when she came into the hotel room after dinner and an evening listening to the piano player in the hotel bar, and sipping red wine in the corner. Michelle turned around and found herself staring at a tall man in dark silk pajama pants and nothing else, his broad chest the first thing she noticed. Her eyes slowly went up to his face, his chiseled jaw and straight nose sitting below a pair of sparkling eyes that reminded her of the stars that had peppered the night sky in the French countryside.
He moved forward, his shoulder length brown hair moving with him as he came closer. She suddenly remembered that she was in her underwear, and reached for her shirt, to attempt to cover herself up.
“Please don’t.” He said, his voice a deep tone that felt like it was vibrating in the core of her body.
“Who are you?” Michelle asked, finding it impossible to cover herself when he’d asked like that. Like she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
“Astin. It means from the stars.” He replied in that bass tone again, his slow steps bringing him closer, giving her a puff of his scent, fresh and clean but masculine.
This was impossible, there hadn’t been anyone hiding in her room when she returned from dinner, and now here he was, barefoot and wearing, what she could now tell in the moonlight illuminating the room, were silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. Then something in the back of her mind reminded her about the wish she’d made that day. Michelle nearly laughed at the idea. Nobody actually got their wish when they threw a coin in a fountain. That was something for romance novels and cartoon movies. Not real life.
“Michelle...” He said softly, coming forward and sliding the back of his knuckles against her cheek. “...You wished for me and I’m here. There’s nothing else you need to know.”
“This is impossible.” Her voice came out like a whisper, unable to manage anything else, this close to him. She could have reached out and slid her hands down those hard pecs, down his stomach to those silk pants that she wanted to slide off his legs if she could get past the impossibility of it all. He reached out then with his left hand and pulled her to his body, erasing any questions she had in her mind.
His mouth pressed against her own, and Michelle melted into his arms, feeling his lips slowly part hers. Astin’s hands went to her shoulders and slid the bra straps from them, though he left the delicate lace cups in place, his mouth sliding down her throat as her head tipped back instinctually, a soft moan leaving her lips. He kissed her shoulders and bent her backwards on the bed, his fingers sliding along her soft curves, down to her hips where they traced the edges of lace and then down along the pearls until he reached that warm, magical place where the pearls disappeared.
“I’ve never seen such a gorgeous, sensual woman before.” He said, worshiping every inch of skin he could reach with his lips while keeping his hands on her hips.
Michelle slid her hands down the hard muscles of his back, her breaths coming in soft gasps as he explored her soft skin with gentle kisses and caressing fingers. This was what she wanted, what she’d come to Paris for, what she’d wished for. A night of passion with a handsome lover in the city of lights, and all because she had tossed a coin into the fountain, and dared to dream. Her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his silk pajama bottoms, and she allowed herself to be swallowed by the passion of her romantic night in Paris.
By Monica A. Flink
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