The French Apartment

The French Apartment - Chapter 1: Welcome to Paris

First day in Paris, morning.

Sixth arrondissement (St. Germain).

I arrived, dripping wet from sweat and rain, at the apartment building where I would presumably spend the next year of my life. Classes would start in a week, and I was hoping to spend my first week here getting my acclimated to Paris, but my arrival from the airport had not been exactly a storybook experience.

I stumbled off the subway and into a summer rainstorm. I knew very little about where I was going. I had figured out that I was in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Paris: it was the "6

th

arrondissement" apparently, though I had no idea how to pronounce that or really what that meant. I knew the Eiffel Tower was somewhere west of me and the Latin Quarter was to the east. However, I had little time to appreciate the beauty of the narrow cobblestone streets as I struggled to get out of the rain. I found myself rushing the wrong way down crooked streets a few times before finally ending up... here.

I was standing in front of a huge, ornate wooden door leading into a stone apartment building about four stories tall. I brushed the wet hair out of my face and looked around. Since I was already as soaked as I could possibly be, I just resigned myself to it and let myself appreciate where I was. Was I really in the right place? I didn't think foreign exchange students would stay in an area that was so nice.

I was used to living in American cities where a building built in the 1920s was considered ancient, yet here I was standing on a street where the buildings were probably older than America itself. Plants and flowers decorated the balconies of many of the windows on the second and third stories. The greenery, cobblestone streets, elegant stonework, and even the warm pouring rain all contributed to the impression that I was inside some sort of fairy tale.

The more I looked around, the more I was convinced I was not in the right place at all. I was on my junior year study abroad program from a mid-tier school, not some diplomat's son coming from Harvard. The address seemed right, so I ducked under a small overhang and scanned the buzzer for the name I was given: 'Claudine Valette.'

The heavy wooden doors creaked and opened in front of me. A beautiful woman was standing in the doorway, a bit taller than me on her high heels. She looked like she was going to some sort of red carpet gala or something. She was wearing a skin-tight dark blue dress, and she had long wavy hair somewhere between a light brown and blonde which flowed around her shoulders and rested on her ample chest.

"Bienvenue!" She smiled wide.

"Uh... do you know if Claudine Valette lives here? I think that's how to pronounce it... sorry I don't know French," I said, stumbling over my words.

"You have met her!" she said, laughing, and waved me inside. Her bright pale blue eyes searched me up and down quickly. "You must be James, Bonjour! Come come, we must get you out of the rain!"

She watched me as I hauled my bags inside; she didn't seem like the kind of woman who picked up heavy bags herself.

"You're Claudine?" I asked, wiping my wet hair out of my eyes.

"Who else would I be?" she spoke with a musical quality, almost as if she were sharing a joke with herself that I wouldn't understand.

"I saw you walking down the street looking like a complete mess!" she said and handed me a towel.

I thanked her and took the towel to clean my face and hair. I was still a drenched mess, but at least I could see without rainwater pouring into my eyes.

I got a better look at Claudine. She wasn't wearing much jewelry or anything obviously gaudy, but somehow everything about her seemed expensive. It was as much the way she moved as anything she wore: she moved deliberately, without hesitation or rush, and watched me closely. Her blue dress ended mid-thigh and showed off the curves of her hips and her long, toned legs. It took all of my willpower to not just get lost staring into her incredible rack... my god. Her dress had wide folds around her chest which constantly drew my eyes to her cleavage, which moved a little as she gestured. I had to keep forcing my eyes back to hers.

"So, are you going out?" I asked, as we walked through the entryway, towards the staircase.

"Out?" she cocked her head to the side. "Did you want to go somewhere? The weather is not so nice today."

"Well you look..." I gestured to her outfit. "Well, I thought you might be going to some fancy event, like... an art gala, or a movie premier or something."

She smiled and put her hand on my bicep and squeezed.

"You're too much, James! Do I need an event to wear a dress? We only live once and so we might as well look good doing it, hm?"

I nodded and expected her to continue walking, but she continued to look at me expectantly. I realized she actually expected me to respond.

"Oh uh, yeah, makes sense to me." I didn't know what else one would say. "I mean, I'm certainly not complaining."

She smirked. "Speaking of style..." She ran a hand through my hair and grabbed at the fabric of my T-shirt and my brown jacket I got from Goodwill. Her mouth turned to a slight frown. "I must say you are a very good looking boy, but you may want some help on how to do your hair and wardrobe, yes?"

Her eyes caught mine and I just looked back, unsure what to say. She smiled in a way that felt reassuring. "It is alright, most boys do! Especially Americans. But you are in France to learn more than just studies, yes?"

I grinned. "Hey I'll take all the help I can get in the wardrobe department. Nobody's ever offered before," I admitted.

She smiled and nodded. "Well nice to finally meet you, James!" she said, and leaned forward.

"Nice to meet you too," I said, and held out my hand.

Her eyebrow raised and she gently slapped my hand away, then wagged a finger at me.

"No no, we are in France! Kiss me, but do not get my dress wet," she said and pointed to her cheek.

I gulped. Oh shit, the European kissing on the cheeks thing. I had seen people do it on TV, and I guess a few people did that when I arrived at Charles De Gaulle airport, so I vaguely knew what to do. I leaned forward, hesitantly, and kissed one cheek. Her flowery perfume was faint, but it immediately transported me... to where, I wasn't sure. But the scent filled my nostrils and somehow it made me realize I was somewhere completely new. She turned her face, and I kissed the other cheek as well.

She smirked. "We'll need to work on that, too!"

I grinned. "Uh yeah, I could definitely use some practice with the eh... European hello."

"Well, I'm so glad you looked like your picture!" she said, excitedly. Her eyes seemed to inspect every inch of me, without a hint of embarrassment or an attempt to hide it. I don't think I had ever been so obviously ogled in my life.

"My picture?" I thought. "Oh I guess you mean the school ID or something?"

"Oh yes, I always get lots of information from the Parisian Academy before I accept any new student to live with me! I am very thorough when I bring someone into my home. I make them do everything, checking the background, academics, blood tests, I interview teachers, all of it..."

"Oh right, they did make me take a bunch of tests before I was finally approved. Is that normal for other study abroad students?" I asked.

"It is one of my special requests," she said, smiling.

"And wait... did you say you interviewed teachers about me?"

I had no idea that host parents were so thorough. Was she just making sure I wasn't some crazy person?

She smiled wide. "Let's just say you passed with eh... flying colors! Now follow me, my main apartment is on the third floor."

I was impressed how easily she walked up the stairs in her heels, and I looked up at the high open stairwell leading above. The stairs were wide and carpeted, but there were a lot of them and my bags were heavy.

"No elevator, huh?" I asked.

She shook her head and turned back to me. "I think a strong boy like you will be alright."

"Yeah, it's fine, I've carried these suitcases up more steps than this," I lied.

She chuckled. "Americans have such confidence! I love it!"

I shook my head as we ascended. I don't think anyone had ever called me 'confident' before, and I was quite the opposite.

I followed behind her and watched her ass sway with an intoxicating rhythm as she walked. Her butt was tight and firm, and it strained against her tight dress, with just a little bounce. I wondered how often this woman spent in the gym. I had ogled my share of girls' legs at college, but none gave me such an impression that they could crush my head between their thighs like Claudine's did. The dress was also cut high, and at certain angles I could glimpse up her inner thigh, almost to her crotch. Did she have any idea I had such a view?

I felt my dick growing in my pants and I tried to adjust it awkwardly. I was already quite horny prior to arriving; I had been traveling for over 24 hours, and I spent the last leg of my Air France flight staring desperately at the stewardesses as they walked past. The cold rain had mostly put a damper on my horniness but now my dick was waking up again as I followed Claudine's ass up the stairs.

"Does anyone else live with you?" I asked, craning my neck as we ascended.

"You mean with us!" she corrected.

"Hah right, yeah. Anyone else live with us?" I asked.

"Oh only my daughter, Vivienne. And Francesca, our gouvernante, helps me with cooking and cleaning and many things, but she lives one level above us," Claudine said, pointing up.

"Gouvernante...?"

"Ah! Silly me! Uh... 'housekeeper,' I believe is the closest word."

"Ah that makes sense," I said. I wondered how rich Claudine was, but I had no point of reference. "So is Vivienne home?"

Claudine hesitated for a moment and turned towards me. I had to quickly move my eyes up so that she didn't catch me staring up her dress.

"Vivienne will be back this evening, after class. She is a beautiful girl, but eh..." her voice lowered to a whisper, and she leaned closer, as if Vivienne was listening from just around the corner. "A bit of a bad attitude, sometimes. She sometimes judges quickly and does not have much patience, you know? It is one worry I hesitated to bring up with you..."

"I'm not worried, a lot of my friends are girls, actually," I said to try to reassure her. "And whatever you- or Vivienne- need, I'm game."

"Game?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "You are a game? I don't understand."

"Oh no, it's just an expression, it means I'm willing to do whatever you need," I explained. "I mean if I get to live in a place like this for a year, I should earn my place here, right?"

"You could not have answered any better!" Claudine clapped and smiled. "So... if you have so many friends who are girls, this means you must have many girlfriends, then?" she asked, with an inquisitive gleam in her eye.

I scratched my head awkwardly. "Uh... well to be honest, I've always been better at being just friends with girls than dating."

"You have never had a girlfriend?" she asked.

I hesitated. I dated one girl in high school for about a month, but ultimately it didn't really go anywhere. I was about to make something up, but Claudine was staring me down, and for some reason I felt like I couldn't lie to her. I shook my head and grinned awkwardly. "Not really, honestly."

Her eyes narrowed. "Boyfriends, then?"

I shook my head again. "No, I'm not gay. I guess... I'm just shy."

Claudine paused on the landing and looked me up and down. "So you are a virgin?"

I could feel my face flush as I avoided her stare. What kind of person asks a question like this after meeting someone for five minutes?

"Well technically..." I hesitated. "Technically yeah, I am."

She grinned wide. "I knew it! I have a feeling for these things! Only one more floor, yes? You can carry those heavy bags up one more?"

I nodded, panting. "Sure, I'm good."

"Good, work those muscles, James the Virgin!" she laughed to herself as she ascended.

Oh god, I thought. I hope that nickname doesn't stick.

* * *

"Bienvenue!" Claudine said as she pushed the door open dramatically. "Welcome to my home!"

Claudine's apartment was open, airy, and beautiful. It was full of pretty little touches: crown molding on the ceilings, oriental rugs, plush cushions on the wooden furniture. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the heavy wooden dining table. But the real draw was the high glass windows into the living room that looked over her little corner of Paris and let in extraordinary light. Despite the wealth clearly evident from the furnishings, it didn't feel opulent or overwhelming. It was just... pleasant. There were very little modern amenities or appliances that I could see. The apartment almost seemed stuck in time, as if anything modern would only detract from its timeless elegance.

I was now covered in both sweat from climbing the stairs and my clothes were still drenched in rain. I put down my bags and wiped my forehead, scared to move and drip over anything.

Claudine clapped her hands and looked me over. "Okay, now take off your clothes."

I blinked. "What?"

"Well you are completely filthy," she said, and waved at me as if she was displaying some horrible creature that needed to be taken away. "You cannot drip water all over my apartment. Just remove your shirt and pants, and Francesca will wash them tomorrow."

I looked down at myself. "Uh... here?"

"Oui!" she responded. "Then you can go to the hall bath and take off your underwears and take a shower. It is just behind me."

She stepped close. I got another scent of her perfume- flowers, or lavender, perhaps. It was subtle but intoxicating as I breathed it in. I felt a little less anxious. Her bright blue eyes looked into mine, evaluating me, as her hands maneuvered under the edges of my wet shirt. My skin was still cold and wet, and her fingers were smooth and warm.

"Hands up," she commanded, and I did as she instructed.

Her hands slid along my sides as she pulled the shirt up over my head. She dropped it on the ground with a wet thud and a grimace like she was dropping something gross and distasteful.

She ran a hand almost absent-mindedly over my chest. "You have more hair than I expected! It is good for men to have some hair, but not too much. This is good," she said, nodding as her hands slid over my chest. The feel of her warm hands caressing me was making me hard, and my eyes kept glancing down to her cleavage more and more.

"Uh... thanks," I mumbled. "I hadn't really ever thought about it before, like if I had too much, or anything."

"No no, it's just right," she said, grinning. "Looks like you spend some time at the gym too, hm?"

"Uh, yeah, I try to," I said, a little hesitant. I had never had a girl talk about me so obviously and openly. I shifted uncomfortably to try to hide my growing boner under my wet jeans. I kicked off my shoes and looked around.

"So where's the bathroom..."

Claudine pulled up the sides of her dress and knelt down in front of me. The bulge twitching in my jeans was inches from her face and I wasn't sure how to hide it.

"Uh Claudine, maybe I should just remove my pants in the bathroom as well..."

"Nonsense, they're dripping," she said, gesturing to them.

I felt paralyzed as she undid my belt buckle and unzipped my fly.

Her fingers dug into my hips above my pants and yanked them down.

As my jeans went down, my wet underwear followed down to my thigh. The sudden jerking down of my wet pants brough the tip of my dick pointing down with my underwear, then sprang back up, bouncing in front of Claudine's face.

She blinked and stared at it curiously.

"Mon dieu..." she said, barely above a whisper. Her voice was low and breathy. "You are a big boy, aren't you?"

I gasped as she ran a single finger along the bottom of my hard shaft. She caressed it from back to front, slowly, like she was appraising an antique she didn't want to break. It was the first time anyone else had touched my bare dick, and I breathed heavily. The only part of me that could move was my twitching cock which was no longer under my control.

She turned and looked into my eyes with a grin. "Do you just walk around with your thing hard like this? It must be so uncomfortable!"

She smirked and stood, pulling up my boxers. As she did, my hard dick flopped out through the fly. She shook her head and pointed to the bathroom behind her.

"Alright, go take care of yourself. You are familiar with a European shower, yes?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, though I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Go on then, horny boy." She slapped my ass, and I stumbled towards the bathroom at the end of the hall.

The bathroom was beautifully and tastefully decorated, like the rest of the apartment. The lights were a bit low, and they were reflected off the high mirrors and bright marble. There were two sinks, wide marble countertops, and a linen closet full of thick plush towels at the ready. It would have rivaled a bathroom from any five star tier hotel, or at least I imagined it probably would have. I was used to the men's communal bathroom in my dorm, and this was a far cry from that.

My head was spinning, and I kept replaying the feeling of Claudine's finger on my dick. I realized that I needed to pee quite badly by this point, but my hard-on was taking forever to calm down. I tried to think about something other than Claudine touching my dick, but that wasn't working so I just had to pee while pushing my dick straight down, into the toilet. Once I finished, I dropped my wet clothes and washed my hands. Then, I went to examine this 'European shower.'

There was a large bathtub at the end of the bathroom, but there was no shower rod or shower curtain. The showerhead itself was on a holder on the wall at chest height, but unless I was a midget or a child, I couldn't stand under it. Apparently, I needed to unhook it from the wall and hold it to clean myself. There were some bottles of soap and shampoo on the wall, but no washcloths.

I turned on the showerhead and stepped into the tub. The warm water felt great after being soaked in rain all morning, so I just stood in the tub and held the handle, letting the water rush over me. I maneuvered the showerhead around me, soaking my head and letting my body warm up. I could tell I was getting water everywhere.

Thoughts of Claudine came into my mind again, and I really needed to masturbate. I tried to take care of business while holding the showerhead with one hand. But trying to masturbate while standing in the tub was awkward, and I couldn't finish despite how horny I was. I considered how to better position myself when I realized the entire floor of the bathroom was covered with an inch of water. Shit.

"James, are you trying to drown us!?" Claudine's voice came from outside.

My eyes widened in surprise as the door opened. Claudine walked in and shook her head in disbelief at the soaked floor. I could see water flowing out into the hall. I sunk into the bathtub in shock, and covered my crotch with my hands. I dropped the showerhead, and it clattered around the floor like it had a life of its own, spraying water over the floor, walls, and Claudine's blue dress.

"Ach!" Claudine let out a string of annoyed French and walked over to grab the squirming shower handle on the floor. She reached behind me and turned off the water. She stared down at my naked body and shook her head.

"I'm naked..." I said, unsure what else to say.

"Tsk, yes I see that, and you're giving my entire apartment a bath instead of yourself," she said, and returned the handle to its holder. "Stay there," she commanded and switched something behind me so that water began to fill the bath. Then she started pulling towels from the linen closet and dropped them onto the floor.