My Life in Paris by Anna Belle - HTML preview
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Author: Anna Belle
Fandom: Original, Historical
Summary: Nobleman Jérome Sautier tells Madame Constance about his life in Paris and reveals when and why he crossed the borderline forever. Early 19th century setting. Disclaimer: This story is fiction.
Written in 2007
Une vie française. (My Life in Paris) by Anna Belle
I did not answer immediately when Madame Constance asked me what I felt addicted to in life, what I felt addicted to in Paris. My life in Paris appeared to be the very usual life of a very usual nobleman. What did I feel addicted to? No suitable answer came to my mind. My life had never been in any way a common life. And never had I been a common nobleman.~~**~~
I had come to Paris in 1807, without hope and expectations for the future. My life had been a failure, a tragic misguided waste. I hardly noticed the beauty of this splendid town. For years I had longed to see this place. Paris. When I had spoken of Paris, I had spoken of liberty and independence, of progress and improvement. Of an open mind. Of a new age. Now I had finally realized that I had been mistaken. Bold thoughts. Enthusiastic thoughts. Immature. Thoughts of a madman.
I winced at these thoughts. Madame Constance watched me curiously. “A slight headache,” I said lightly and gave her a smile. My thoughts went back to a time when I had felt perfectly happy. Genuine truth or mere self-deception? Who would ever understand the pain I was still feeling…
I looked at Madame Constance with darkened eyes. “Well, first, I think Paris is a good place to forget about worries.” And leave behind your life, I added to myself. Constance raised an eyebrow.
This city, by no means, was a place of progress and advancement. It was a place of folly and silly amusements. At one of these parties I had met Madame Constance, a noble woman with an almost fatal addiction to curiosity and inquisitiveness. Soon I was her favourite and finally she became a very good friend of mine.Again I met her eyes. She smiled encouragingly.
Well, what was I addicted to in Paris? The social gatherings that took place in Paris every day and night? No, I did not take interest in these places of exalted gossip and idle talk and their constant visitors. In the beginning I had merely felt bothered by their questions. Later I felt bored. Now I amused myself with their pride and vanity. It was a game with rules, and I stuck to them. Etiquette. I did not want to jeopardize my new and pleasant life. But everything had changed the day I had met Joaquín. Joaquín. I assume that only Constance had an idea to what an extent my whole life had changed. That very day, rather irrevocable decision than fateful coincidence, I crossed the borderline forever.~~**~~
I had met him in a Paris nobleman’s house. Joaquín had only recently arrived in Paris. He looked different, his manners were different, and he spoke French with a hard accent. Where had this guy come from? Later I found out that he had come from abroad. New Spain. I greeted him politely. He did not say a word, yet looked me straight into the eyes and returned a smile, divulging and challenging, disturbing and appealing at the same time. And wherever I moved, his dark and fiery eyes followed me.Ever since Joaquín had been my constant companion, my lover and my friend.
With another kind nod Madame Constance encouraged me to answer her question. I thought of Joaquín, the smell of his skin and the fire in his eyes. His hands and his lips on my body. His longing and his desire and my devotion and my lust.
A smile played on my lips when I finally looked into Constance’s eyes. “Madame, you want to know what I’m addicted to in life? I suggest you call it Passionate Devotion, ma chère.“ “Alors, une vie française, n’est-ce pas ?“ she responded with a knowing and perfect charming smile.~~**~~