Paris Dreaming by Anita Heiss Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anita Heiss
Canelle laughing like a teenage girl.
'What?' I asked, confused.
'Why did you say that? You should've gone to meet him.'
'It's late, Canelle. I'm not travelling across any city for any man this late at night, not even if he is the first secretary and looks good in a red tie.'
I sounded arrogant, but it was what I'd become thanks to my previous disasters and disappointments, and with Ames on my mind I didn't need to think about anyone else either. Now that I was starting to feel better about myself and felt attractive being around Frenchmen, well, someone could chase me for once.
'Anyway, why would I want to meet him this late at night? That doesn't send a good signal for either party, professionally or personally.'
'This is France, it is not late for us to eat and drink. And anyway you are both professionals. Why are you being a '¦ how you say?'
'A bitch?'
'Yes, a bitch, merci .'
'You're welcome.' I stared out the cab window.
'Elizabeth, only some men like bitches, trust me, and some men, well, they like life to be less complicated than it sometimes is. You are being too serious and you are already complicating this situation.'
'What situation, Canelle? Even if I was interested in him, he's a Blackfella from Australia and I certainly didn't come to Paris to meet a guy I could meet back home. Apart from that, we're probably related, stranger things have happened in more unlikely places, believe me. Now, that doesn't make me a complicated bitch, does it?' I wasn't even sure myself.
'Maybe not,' Canelle said unconvincingly.
'The thing is, Canelle, I came here to work. It's safe flirting with someone who lives in another country, because there's no chance of being hurt flirting with someone on the train who you'll never see again. But Jake is Australian ' I just don't want to get involved. Anyway, I'm going home in a few months.' I said all that with Ames still occupying my thoughts.
'I just don't think it is a very smart move to turn down the first secretary of your home country, Elizabeth.' Canelle was almost chastising me. 'Do you not want to make more contacts?'
'Of course I do,' I could hear the annoyance in my voice, 'but I don't think a work meeting is going to happen after too many drinks, late at night. I know enough of men to know that. I'll arrange a meeting with him to discuss work during business hours.'
'Whatever you think, my friend, but you know in the arts, every hour is a business hour. Pull over here, driver,' she said, handing me some euros before getting out of the cab. 'I think he had a very nice derri¨re . I'll see you in the morning.'
I hadn't looked at Jake's arse and didn't know when Canelle had had the chance to either, but it wasn't something I was going to consider. The last thing I needed while building my reputation in the arts in Paris was building a reputation for following Australian men's arses in France.
After organising my clothes for the next day, I was grateful to crawl into bed at midnight, feeling my calves paining from standing in heels all night. I soon swapped thoughts of sore feet with vivid images of how Ames had kissed my ankles and each of my toes the night before.
I woke in the morning to find a text message.
My head was flooded with questions, looking for justifications. This must be a joke. Blackfellas don't talk like that at home or in Paris. He must've had one of his French staff write that. Or he was charged up. Or he was just a sleazebag using his position to his own advantage and that wasn't a game I was going to play. I had earned every stripe I had through hard work and was happy to keep doing it.
I didn't respond to his text. I wanted to talk about it with Canelle first after
'What?' I asked, confused.
'Why did you say that? You should've gone to meet him.'
'It's late, Canelle. I'm not travelling across any city for any man this late at night, not even if he is the first secretary and looks good in a red tie.'
I sounded arrogant, but it was what I'd become thanks to my previous disasters and disappointments, and with Ames on my mind I didn't need to think about anyone else either. Now that I was starting to feel better about myself and felt attractive being around Frenchmen, well, someone could chase me for once.
'Anyway, why would I want to meet him this late at night? That doesn't send a good signal for either party, professionally or personally.'
'This is France, it is not late for us to eat and drink. And anyway you are both professionals. Why are you being a '¦ how you say?'
'A bitch?'
'Yes, a bitch, merci .'
'You're welcome.' I stared out the cab window.
'Elizabeth, only some men like bitches, trust me, and some men, well, they like life to be less complicated than it sometimes is. You are being too serious and you are already complicating this situation.'
'What situation, Canelle? Even if I was interested in him, he's a Blackfella from Australia and I certainly didn't come to Paris to meet a guy I could meet back home. Apart from that, we're probably related, stranger things have happened in more unlikely places, believe me. Now, that doesn't make me a complicated bitch, does it?' I wasn't even sure myself.
'Maybe not,' Canelle said unconvincingly.
'The thing is, Canelle, I came here to work. It's safe flirting with someone who lives in another country, because there's no chance of being hurt flirting with someone on the train who you'll never see again. But Jake is Australian ' I just don't want to get involved. Anyway, I'm going home in a few months.' I said all that with Ames still occupying my thoughts.
'I just don't think it is a very smart move to turn down the first secretary of your home country, Elizabeth.' Canelle was almost chastising me. 'Do you not want to make more contacts?'
'Of course I do,' I could hear the annoyance in my voice, 'but I don't think a work meeting is going to happen after too many drinks, late at night. I know enough of men to know that. I'll arrange a meeting with him to discuss work during business hours.'
'Whatever you think, my friend, but you know in the arts, every hour is a business hour. Pull over here, driver,' she said, handing me some euros before getting out of the cab. 'I think he had a very nice derri¨re . I'll see you in the morning.'
I hadn't looked at Jake's arse and didn't know when Canelle had had the chance to either, but it wasn't something I was going to consider. The last thing I needed while building my reputation in the arts in Paris was building a reputation for following Australian men's arses in France.
After organising my clothes for the next day, I was grateful to crawl into bed at midnight, feeling my calves paining from standing in heels all night. I soon swapped thoughts of sore feet with vivid images of how Ames had kissed my ankles and each of my toes the night before.
I woke in the morning to find a text message.
My head was flooded with questions, looking for justifications. This must be a joke. Blackfellas don't talk like that at home or in Paris. He must've had one of his French staff write that. Or he was charged up. Or he was just a sleazebag using his position to his own advantage and that wasn't a game I was going to play. I had earned every stripe I had through hard work and was happy to keep doing it.
I didn't respond to his text. I wanted to talk about it with Canelle first after
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