Love at the Capoule

I looked at my cousin to my right but he was busy doodling some plan for a project at school, engrossed in discussing it with Jacques. Christophe stood up then. 
“Perhaps we should go to the club now?” His voice was harder than I had heard yet that evening and he looked at Simon when he said it. I was grateful to him for breaking whatever spell Simon thought he was under because he dropped his hands from my arms and straightened up, almost stiffly, avoiding looking at myself or Christophe but instead loudly proclaiming that it was indeed time to party. We all pitched in some money and settled the bill with Monsieur Chong.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Toulouse.” He said to me brightly, while bowing again slightly.
I nodded: “Thank you. I will.”

We all started walking to the club when Marie and Luc began to bicker as they walked along. 
“I did not!” She exclaimed.
“Everyone could see you flirting. Pourquoi tu dragues? T’es plus contente avec moi? »
« I was NOT flirting. I was having a conversation. A conversation about something other than disease and cures.” 
“Oh so you resent what I do?”
“No. Yes. SOMETIMES!” She cried out. “I resent that it takes you away from me. I resent that we have no life outside of your work. I resent that you seem to resent me for not having the same determination as you do.”
“I don’t resent you! I love you.”

We had all stopped at this point and the rest of us stood apart from the two of them, trying to appear as if we couldn’t hear them, making small talk amongst ourselves. Even the cool and collected Arianne seemed embarrassed by the outburst and quite out of sorts, playing with her sunglasses to avoid looking at the rest of us.

“I just want to spend some time with you alone where we’re not talking about medical school or my life. Just time to be silly and make love and hold each other and cry.” Marie was sniffling, unable to hold back her emotion regardless of who was watching her. I couldn’t help watching her. I knew I shouldn’t but I was in awe that she could unleash this way in public, in front of other people, in front of her friends and seem so unaware that we were all standing barely three feet away from her and Luc.
“I’m sorry, baby. I love you, you know I do. It’s hard right now but it’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”

He pulled her into his arms and she fit. It was like looking at the two last pieces of a puzzle being put together. Their bodies almost audibly clicked into place. They held on to each other for a moment, still oblivious to the rest of us when Simon coughed lightly and they both looked over and laughed. 
“Sorry everyone… I think we’re going to skip the club tonight and head on home.” 
“Okay Luc”, said Louis, “Probably a good idea!” He ribbed his friend with his elbow. “None of us wants to see what happens next anyway!” 

Luc blushed a little and Marie just held on to him. We said goodbye to them and continued on our way to the club. Christophe was hanging back a little from the group. “This has nothing to do with you, Christophe”, Louis said to him. “It was bound to happen with the schedule Luc keeps.”
“I know, I know… I … “ For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, like the overt confidence of earlier had evaporated during the heated exchange. He just shrugged his shoulders then and stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly somewhere else, unreachable.

“Well, we’re here so it’s time to party, right?” Louis tried to pump him up a little and true to the form of someone with great spirit, he bounced back. 
“So!” he looked at me. “Do these Canadians know how to dance?”
I laughed, grateful that the moment of tension was over and that he had returned. I still held out that hope that I would be asked to dance. It was a feeling that hadn’t changed since grade 8: I didn’t want to be the wallflower this time. I wasn’t going to be the invisible chair that everyone ignored when the music started. 
“You bet! Let’s get in there!”

In France, clubs are a little different than they are in Canada. Here, you pay a cover charge and buy your drinks through the course of the evening. There, cocktails are very expensive. You don’t see many people ordering a vodka tonic anywhere because of the prices. The way around that at the clubs is to buy a bottle of alcohol of some sort. This too is expensive as the price per bottle is inflated far beyond what you would pay at a store, but it is much cheaper than buying individual drinks. So, as a group, we bought a bottle of vodka and a bottle of gin. You get all the glasses and mixes that you want when you do that: pop, juice, tonic, regular water and a bucket of ice in the bargain. You pour them yourselves and have a merry time of it! 

Simon was the designated bartender in the group and he didn’t think much of mix. It was much better to give the little Canadian a glass of vodka on ice. I only had one and I felt like I was the center of the room. I suddenly had more confidence than Arianne and Christophe put together. I was dancing and strutting like a vain peacock. I knew that people were watching me and, for once, I didn’t care. It was wonderful! If people were laughing, it didn’t trouble me in the least. If people thought I looked ridiculous, I didn’t give a damn! 

At first, Christophe had sat back and watched this happen. He was sitting on a low couch with Arianne but watching me. I knew he was watching and suddenly I felt brazen and strong, like I could in fact compete with the beautiful but slightly flat chested Arianne. I had something to offer him and we would see who would come away the winner that evening. It was like I had taken a shot of testosterone. I was suddenly feeling so confident, almost aggressive. Like I only had to point at what I wanted and I would get it.

I felt like a shell had broken and that I was able to flex my wings for the first time in a very long time. I danced and danced, willing him to watch me, to catch me in my freedom flight. And he did. 

I saw him from the corner of my eye go up to the DJ booth and request something. Moments later, the beat of “Hold Me Now” by the Thompson twins came on. This was retro, it was old school, and it was every dance I had been to in grade 8 where I would have, at this stage, started making a beeline for a chair, the wall or the bathroom. But not this time. This time I was going to dance. I looked around to find him, my gaze skimming unseeing over Simon who had also been watching me. My eyes finally found his and it was like he could see into my soul, into the gut-wrenching episodes of my youth when I would have been left standing there with no one to take me in their arms. He stepped forward and time slowed down, as if no one else was in the room and there was no other sound but the song. He took me in his arms and we danced. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he buried his face in my neck and we danced. We kept going, not pausing, not thinking for a second about breaking apart. 

When the song ended and the DJ returned to a fast pop beat, we stopped dancing but didn’t let go. He pulled back enough to be able to look me in the face. His green eyes seeing right through me. I don’t think I can accurately describe the sexual pull between us. Instead of being worried about what I might be getting into or what I might be about to do, I forged ahead. I leaned in and he kissed me. Not a light brushing kiss, but the bruising kiss of foreplay. I didn’t care who saw us, I didn’t care what the others thought. I just knew that I had to have this experience. He caressed my back and ran his fingers lightly on the nape of my neck. I shivered as though a cold blast of air had entered the room. 

Without speaking, inherently knowing what was to come next, we made our way to the coats and my cousin.
“I’ll take her home.” Simon told him. His voice had gone low and husky.
Louis looked at me and then at Christophe and though there could be no doubt as to our intentions, he did his duty as my protector and asked: “Are you sure?” He seemed a little concerned about letting me go with Christophe but I had no such reservations. I don’t think he could have stopped me and I think he knew this.
“Yes”, I whispered. “I’ll be OK.” 
“OK, well you have my cell number if you need it.”
I just nodded and pulled on my coat.

We hurried out to the street, not saying a word, knowing that we would not be going to me great-grandmother’s house. At least not immediately. He hailed a cab and we almost lept in. 
He leaned forward in the seat and said to the driver: “87 rue Grenoble.” 
Then he leaned back and folded me into his arms, tilting my chin and kissing me again and again. He kissed the nape of my neck and my eyelids; he kissed my cheek and my mouth, again and again. I could barely contain my excitement, my hands traveling all over him, remaining decently on the outside of his clothing but anticipating so much more. 

The cab driver was watching us in his rear view mirror, smiling. 

We arrived at a low apartment building within minutes and after quickly paying the driver, Christophe pulled me from the cab and wrapped his arms around me to kiss me again right on the street in front of the building. He pulled away finally, both of us out of breath, lips bruised from the passion of the embrace but neither of us satisfied. “Are you sure you’re OK with this?” I loved him for asking me. I don’t think we could have done anything differently even if I hadn’t been sure, but I loved him for at least asking.
“Yes.” My breath was halting and quick. “Let’s go up. I….” 

That was all he needed to hear. We were in and out of the elevator and at his door before I could even look around at my surroundings. I saw nothing of his apartment. All I heard was the door slamming shut behind me and the sound of his keys hitting the hardwood floor. We went back to the passionate embrace we had started outside but could stand no more of our clothes. I pulled off my coat and he undid my pants. I struggled to unbutton his shirt and in total aggravation, I gave up and ripped it open, buttons popping and flying, but we took no notice. Both naked, he led me to his bed and lay me down. He was suddenly gentle and soft, stroking me, sucking gently on my right nipple, then my left, his hand snaking its way down between my thighs, sighing upon discovering the warmth that lay there waiting for him. 

He rolled over slightly to the side and before I even had a chance to look down, he had rolled on a condom. The practiced hand of a seasoned lover. Perhaps. I didn’t care. I just knew that I needed him, wanted him. He lowered himself on to me gently and was carefully pushing himself against me. It occurred to me that perhaps he thought I was a virgin, that perhaps he thought he would have to take it slow and gentle with me. 

I gripped him in my hand and looked him straight in the eye: I didn’t have to say anything. He knew and with total abandon, he entered me. For a brief moment, my breath caught in my throat. He moaned, eyes closed and head tilted towards me. He filled me completely but not painfully. He was a perfect match for me and after a moment of wonder where he too felt this fit, we lost all control and let ourselves go. Rhythmic beating of blood rushing from my head, again and again, thrusting forward to meet him every time and finally, agonizingly, the epitome, the final thrust that brought us both over the edge. 

Neither of us could move when it was over. When he finally pulled out and rolled off of me, we automatically wrapped our arms and legs around each other with the familiarity of long-standing lovers. It was beautiful and wonderful and my tears were, for once, shed in complete wonder at the abandon with which I had just experienced this lovemaking, this passionate embrace that I would never forget.

“Are you okay?”
I moaned with pleasure: “What a silly question.”
“I wanted you from the moment I walked up to the café, you know. It’s been a painful evening, if you know what I mean!” 
“I wanted you too but I didn’t think I had a chance with Arianne around. And when you didn’t sit next to me…”
“I couldn’t! If I had, you would have seen this erection of mine. I was thought you might be afraid. I thought you were a virgin.”
“I was.”
He looked at me then, propping himself on one elbow to look down into my face directly. 
“No!”
“Yes.” I lied, blushing. 
“Oh my god… I am honoured. I am honoured to be the one to introduce you to love making.”

I would not contradict him because in a way, he had been the first. I had never experienced pleasure of this magnitude, nor passion of this intensity before. I had never felt like an equal partner in the experience of making love. In the past, I had always felt like I was being fucked, an act done by one to another. This was something altogether different.

My assertion that I was a virgin was an incredible turn on for both of us, even though I knew the truth and he found renewed vigor, a second wind. We napped and made love all night long. When we finally slept for a couple of hours, I was sated. I knew that this was not going to be the great love of my life. I knew nothing about him and he knew nothing about me. But we had this moment and that is all that life is. A series of moments that are bridged together with time spent in between doing less significant tasks. 

He took me home at 6 a.m., to my great-grandmother’s house and I had the sense, walking in the door that I was coming back a different person from the one who had left it barely 12 hours earlier.