Men are from mars (mutual)

Chapter 4 - paris

We dropped our bags in the room and headed out. The afternoon streets were alive with tourists and workers. September was always my favourite month in Paris. The August shut down left the city refreshed, and with a month left of fair weather the city's pulse could be felt through the rhythms of the hustle and bustle. I took her hand as we turned on to the Champs-Élysées. Her hips brushed me with each step of her right leg. Her relaxed sway sending small ripples over her entire body. She caught sight of a colourful patisserie up a side street and without asking began gravitating toward it.
In true Parisian style, we were practically ignored by our waiter. Her fingers began tapping on the table as I tried to keep her distracted and the mood sweet. I was describing my love for the city, thanking her for getting me away from the stress of my job but she was distracted by the long counter behind me.
Excusing herself she marched over and getting the attention of the girl proceeded to order everything that took her fancy. I stayed seated watching her from a side angle as her eyes lit up with each slice that was added to the tray. She then headed back over with the same grin I had seen on her face the first weekend we met.
"I thought I'd dive us in at the deep end" she declared flatly. "You know how I love the sweeter things. Well Paris has some of the sweetest things I know."
The tray was set down with two glasses of black coffee and two forks. Seven plates, each carrying a fine pastry teased into shape until it was as much sculpture as it was sustenance.
"Take your pick." She paused. Her eyes fixed on mine and her tone deepened, "And feed it to me."
I'd never heard those words before. They were strange but not alien. There was a demand and a surrender in the request. I shaved an inch of gateau from its point and hesitantly offered it to her lips. Lust filled her eyes as she parted her lips. She stared at me as she lowered them around the morsel. "mmm. More."
I obliged. This time mille feuille. As it approached her mouth she paused it by taking the stem between her forefinger and thumb, the end of the fork still in my hand. She then licked the creme before taking it all in to her mouth.
Bite after bite the show continued. I was hypnotised. The eroticism of her act of gluttony overwhelmed me. I was entirely unaware of the tables along side but was fixated on her.
Two thirds of the way through she took a pause and struck up the conversation.
"I find it so sexy when you feed me"
"Pardon?" I knew the statement was true. The last ten minutes were testimony to that. But to hear it spoken: that was shocking.
"Eating. Gourmandising, is one of life most underrated joys. We enjoy a concert publicly and people don't mind. We cry at the ballet, laugh at a film or a play. We stare for hours at scenes expressed on canvas, but the spectacle of enjoying food, and ALL, that comes with it, that, that is almost taboo. And that's what makes is soooo sweet." I was unaware that I had given my reaction. My chin rested on my hand and I was nodding subtly to every word she had said. "I could see you enjoyed feeding me. Watching me enjoy my food. Tell me the truth. Do the results of my pleasure stir anything in you?" She stroked her bulging tummy.
I was taken aback. Leaning back in the chair and placing my hands on the armrests I became defensive in posture and mind. We were in unfamiliar territory. A foreign land. One bedroom, no hope of retreat to a sanctuary if I messed up, no hope that I could evade the question for 3 days. I was cornered. I had to respond. "If by stir you mean anything but my own pleasure. No." I was playing it cool.
"I know you like me. But do you like the changes in me?"
Again I was on the back foot. This time I chose to think about my answer. Did I?
There was no denying that my passion grew with each passing day, but was that just part of getting to know each other?
There no fooling she was bigger. Much bigger. At a dress size if not more from the day she came in to the office. Did I like it? In isolation I couldn't say. But did I prefer her now to the first night: definitely.
I replied: "You are more alluring today than you were yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. I'm not sure what the reason is. But keep up the trend and you've got me for good."
Her face grew a tad sterner. I hadn't given her a straight enough answer. So she pushed for one," Do you like that I'm growing fattt?" The final word lingered.
I thought again and nodded "Yes." I did.
"Good." She said sultrily. "I've been growing myself through pleasure for years." Her eyes surveyed her body. "A lot of pleasure. And I'm not done."
I reached for my coffee. The cup was cold but my mouth was too dry to care. I didn't break her stare. I don't know why I said it but something in me roused: "I. I like that you're not". She nodded and ordered the check.