French Kissing: Episode One
Copyright © Harper Bliss 2014
Nadia was drunk, Juliette sported her angry scowl in response, Claire shuffled in her chair uncomfortably, and the hot doctor was about to leave. Steph had enough decency not to flirt with Margot in front of the others, despite their levels of indifference or intoxication. Claire and Juliette had become good friends, but they were still her bosses.
“I’m heading home as well.” Steph got up out of her seat and hugged the hosts and Claire, who lived just down the street from Nadia and Juliette. Steph knew full well that, in a previous life, Claire and Juliette had been lovers, but to her, her two bosses seemed more like twins, like sisters who couldn’t be away from each other for more than twenty-four hours.
She followed Margot to the elevator and hopped in with her.
“To be a fly on the wall now,” she joked, trying to break the ice while admiring the doctor’s all-leather outfit.
Margot just gave a small smile in response, obviously not very interested in gossiping about Nadia and the people she just met.
“Heading straight home?” Steph asked, trying to coax even a few words out of her elevator companion, not being very good at silences in confined spaces.
With pursed lips, Margot just nodded. Was she giving Steph the cold shoulder? Heavens. She hadn’t even tried anything yet, was just making polite conversation. They exited the building in silence. Steph had a good few inches on the doctor in height, but she had to quicken her pace to keep up with Margot’s swift strides. They stopped at a sporty but quite heavy motorbike. Steph’s eyes grew wide.
“Very nice to meet you, Steph. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Margot produced a key from her leather jacket pocket and unfastened the helmet chained to the bike’s handlebar. Could she get any hotter?
“Would you like to go for a night cap?” It was as if Steph’s brain had stopped working. Was she really using that crappy line on this gorgeous woman? Steph wasn’t that used to going after someone like this. She just had to set foot in Les Pêches and at least one person would be all over her.
“I’m driving.” Margot pointed at the bike and Steph was grateful for the darkness of the night hiding the sudden blush on her cheeks. “And I’m not much of a drinker. I’m not on call but I simply never know when someone’s life will be in my hands. I like to be prepared.”
The simple way in which she said it and the gravitas of her words made Steph accept them immediately. Clearly, Margot was out of her league—too serious, too smart and too level-headed. Too much of a challenge as well?
“Besides,” Margot said, her helmet already at the top of her head. “No offence, but you’re a bit young for me.” With that, she slipped the helmet over her head, straddled the bike, pushed it off its stand and kicked it into gear. It was the most arousing thing Steph had seen in months, maybe years. Maybe ever.
Ouch. She watched Margot speed off with a roar in the night before heading for the Métro. She briefly contemplated getting off at Saint-Paul and drop by Les Pêches to nurse her wounded ego, but that would only result in mediocre sex and a hangover.
Instead, she took the underground to her flat near Père Lachaise, fed her cat and divided her thoughts between the memory of Margot driving off and Claire’s words earlier that day, just before she left work. They wanted her in the Dominique Laroche meeting on Monday. If she made the right impression, they would let her take the lead on a very important account. It had been a long time coming and Steph was ready.
She had research to do this weekend. Les Pêches would be there the next weekend, and the next. Steph had turned thirty-three last month and it was time to take her career to the next level.
“What do you think, Pierrot?” she asked her grey-striped cat.
“Meow,” he said.
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW…