Stripping Agnes

It had been Agnes' desire to move to Paris since she had been a teenager. She had been saving up for two years now in order that she would have enough money to rent an apartment and good fortune finally shone on her. Her application for a job as an assistant to a photographer in the Latin District had been successful and she had found an affordable, though tiny apartment only a few blocks away from the photographic studio.

Agnes enjoyed her new Parisian life. Her employer was good to her and went to great effort to train her in every technique. She flourished in the opportunity to be creative and she loved her new home in the midst of the beautiful city. Yet, if Agnes were truly honest with herself, she would admit that she was lonely. Her family and life long friends were all back in Toulouse and she had yet to meet anyone that she could consider a friend.

In her quest for company and a way to occupy her time on the weekends, Agnes ventured out mid Saturday mornings for coffee at her local patisserie, where she would treat herself to her weekly almond croissant. She was conscious of her figure but this was her one indulgence for the week and she savoured it.

Agnes was not really a sophisticate and the clothes she wore were pretty and youthful: a dark red elasticized at the waist twirly skirt and a very pretty white cotton shirt with heeled espadrilles on her feet. Her hair was long and dark and her skin light and soft, and sitting there at the round table she looked much more delectable than the croissant she was devouring.

Agnes did not realize that she was being watched until she took her last sip of coffee and looked up into the eyes of a man who was studying her every move. She felt immediately embarrassed to have been caught in the lustful enjoyment of her naughty treat and she blushed.

"It is good?" he enquired.

"Delicious," she responded. And, for some reason, she felt compelled to add, "I only have one of these a week. I don't make a habit of it."

He merely smiled and returned to his coffee; black.

She would have liked it if she could think of a reason to stay there, but he offered her no more in the way of conversation and she reluctantly left the patisserie. He seemed not to notice her departure, engrossed in his newspaper.

The following Saturday Agnes returned to her patisserie and could see the moment she entered that the same man was already there, ordering his coffee.

"Bonjour," she offered him, with a lovely smile.

"Bonjour mademoiselle," he returned. "Another croissant for you, today?"

This made her feel vulnerable in some way; that he was aware of her weakness and yet knew nothing else about her. She was weighing up what to say, perhaps to forgo the croissant and say that she was not hungry when she heard him say to the shopkeeper,

"Two almond croissants, please; one black coffee and one coffee with milk."

He paid for the food and ushered her towards a little table by the window. She had no desire to reject his offer and did as she was bid, sitting where he told her to sit.

"What is your name?"

"Agnes."

"I am Frederick. And, you live in the neighbourhood?"

"Yes. But, I'm new to Paris. I love it here. The city is so exciting. There is so much to see and do."

She was talking rapidly, unsure of herself with this man, and yet instinctively having a feeling that she wanted to know him, if he would let her. He said next to nothing whilst she blurted out a whole speech about the wonders of the Luxembourg Gardens and all the dogs that visited there.

He allowed her to blither on, listening attentively but passively. When their order arrived, he was attentive, enquiring if she needed sugar, if she was enjoying the croissant, if she wanted anything else. She wished he would talk about himself but it seemed not to be his way and she wondered if she bored him. Just as she began to thank him for the food and his company he stood up, and thus she did too.

"Come with me and I shall show you where I live. It is a lovely view of Paris from the balcony."

She had never before been in such a compromising situation with a sophisticated man and there was a part of her that said that this was not wise. But, there was also a part of her that so very much wanted to go with Frederick and it was this part of her that won out. She picked up her purse and followed him out the door.

He was taller than her with long legs and it was difficult for her to keep up. She felt that she was almost running but he seemed not to notice. He barely paid her any attention until they had walked the five flights of stairs of his apartment building and the internal flight of stairs that led to the balcony outside of his kitchen.

"There it is. The rooftops of Paris."

And, then he smiled at her.

"Ohhhhhh, how beautiful. How fortunate you are to wake up to this every morning."

When she turned back towards him, after trying to soak in the view and commit it to her memory banks, he was looking at her in a way that she could not read. She reflexively shivered, as if he had undressed her; undressed her soul and reached into the darkest recesses of her mind.

"Thank you, Frederick. But, I must go. I have so many errands to do today."

Any excuse to get away! She was rattled, suddenly uncomfortable and unable to meet his gaze. He made no effort to keep her there with small talk or anything else but merely escorted her down all the stairs again and said that perhaps they might meet again in the patisserie one day. They said their goodbyes and she was gone.

On the following Saturday morning, she forced herself to stay away from the patisserie and planned instead a day at Museum of the Revolution in order to occupy herself. There was no doubting that she was attracted to Frederick but his very presence had stirred feelings in her that confused her and disturbed her and she wondered if it was best not to speak with him again.
The following week, she was in her local supermarket buying a baguette and some of the special Camembert that she adored when she suddenly heard his voice in her ear.

"Are you going to tell me that you only eat Camembert cheese once a week, as well?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Just hearing his voice sent tingles down her spine and this time she knew she would not have the will to walk away.



(to be continued)