The French Apartment - Chapter 8: Tiramisu
Twelfth Day in Paris, afternoon.
Eighteenth arrondissement (Montmartre).
I was barely able to speak, and sweat was flowing down my forehead like a waterfall. I never liked running and was winded after five minutes, and we had been jogging nearly an hour. It felt as if my legs would burn to a crisp and fall off if I continued much longer.
"Why... are we jogging... in a place that's so... hilly," I gasped.
"Because the Montmartre is a beautiful neighborhood! What better place for a jog?" Claudine said, as she strode up next to me and gestured around us. "Look at these views!"
I looked around as I caught my breath. She wasn't wrong: the neighborhood was undoubtedly expensive, and yet it retained colorful quaintness that felt very different from Claudine's home in Saint Germain. We were high on a hill, and every so often a gap would appear in the houses, affording glimpses of the rest of the city beyond. I bent over and put my hands on my knees as I caught my breath.
Claudine was tired and sweating, but nowhere near as destroyed as I was. This was the first time I had seen her in her workout clothes. Her blonde hair was tied into a tight ponytail, and she wore skin-tight pink and blue athletic wear. She had been running ahead of me most of the way, and my eyes kept following her bouncing, muscular butt, running ahead of me. Oddly, it was motivation enough to keep me running long past what I thought I would have been capable of. I was beginning to feel like a horse trotting after a carrot dangling from a stick, and it kept me running.
As Claudine admired the views around us, I was struck by her wide, carefree smile. She was panting hard but clearly enjoyed the exertion.
"There are other pretty neighborhoods in Paris..." I panted. "...without hills."
"Tsk," Claudine said, throwing up her hand dismissively. "The hills will help you build muscle here!"
I yelped as Claudine's hand made a loud smacking sound as it cracked against my ass. I rubbed my butt as she reached behind me to grab her water bottle from my backpack. I was both running companion and pack mule on this trip.
"So are you entirely sure..." I said, catching my breath. "That I can't just build muscle by eating lots of steak and drinking wine?"
"Beauty is sacrifice, James," Claudine said and tapped my chest. "And you clearly spent time sacrificing, or you wouldn't look like that. You are just out of shape."
"Well," I gasped. "What if we try my steak and wine method for a while and see if that works?"
Claudine chuckled and took a long sip of water. "Is this the 'James Method'?"
"Exactly," I agreed.
Claudine replaced her water in my pack and grinned at me. "And I believe it also involves regular massages and blowjobs as well?"
"Oh, definitely," I said as I took my own drink from my water bottle. "I forgot, those are essential components of the James Method."
"I bet." Claudine grinned.
"Well, I always preferred weights, I was never good at cardio," I admitted. "And besides, I thought Paris would be a place to relax and enjoy life... not keep up an extreme workout routine."
"Oh, it's more important than ever," Claudine said, grinning. "The sacrifice is what earns you the enjoyment!"
Claudine waved me forward. "Come, Sacré-Coeur is just ahead. We will go there and then break for lunch."
I nodded and followed Claudine's firm bouncing ass like a beacon as she jogged up the last hill.
The Basilica of Sacré-Coeur was a giant gleaming white building at the top of the hill. We slowed as we approached it, and she gave me a little background on the place as we arrived, like my personal tour guide. For example, it was a 'basilica' and not a 'cathedral,' for reasons I forgot almost as soon as Claudine explained them. A long line of tourists waited to get inside, but Claudine had no interest in going in and instead we sat on the wide steps in front of the building, which provided an incredible view of the city below.
Paris stretched out beneath us, like someone had created a gigantic and elaborate little model city below us. We drank our water and Claudine leaned back on her hands as she waited for me to recover.
"Are you alright?" she asked. She looked a little worried. "I thought some exercise would help, but if I pushed you too fast after your recovery..."
I shook my head. I had been sick a few days ago, but I wasn't entirely clear about what I had, despite visits from doctors. It seemed likely some combination of exhaustion, bad drugs, and probably a virus I picked up while soaked with rain. In any case, whatever it was hadn't stayed in my system for long. I stood and stretched, and I realized my body did feel a little more energetic, and a little more alive, despite the pain.
"My legs are wobbly, but I'm alright," I said, and met Claudine's caring smile. "I actually feel really good after all that."
"Bien!" Claudine said as she watched me. "Me too! It's been a stressful week, and running helps my body release tension."
"A stressful week?" I asked, worried. I knew she talked with Vivienne after our date, and it had changed things in our apartment. I felt bad thinking I was a cause of stress for her. "From me?"
"Not from you," she assured me, though I didn't entirely believe her.
"Well, okay, you and Vivienne have caused a little stress," Claudine admitted. "It's odd to think of my daughter moving out this Friday. And Francesca has been very pouty recently as well, for reasons that I do not entirely know. But mostly it is work, or rather, my attempts to get back to it."
"Your work? I thought you were a..." She raised her eyebrow. "A woman of luxury?"
"A woman of luxury!" She laughed. "Did you know I was once in fashion, before my divorce?"
"Yeah, I think Francesca told me at one point," I said.
She nodded and we stared over the city spread in front of us.
"I think I would feel more secure with a foot in that world again, and I have some ideas I've wanted to pursue for some time."
"So you want to get a job?" I asked.
"Not exactly, I want to put my resources and my skills to use. I won't bore you with the details, but I have reached out to many old contacts and well... what is the word for childish, emotional games?"
"Drama?" I asked.
She nodded. "Yes, that. I wasn't prepared for it."
"You have enough drama in the apartment, since bringing me in," I said. I was still a little embarrassed that I was part of the reason for the drama and stress in her life and felt a need to apologize.
She smiled back at me and shook her head. "Drama in my apartment, I can handle. Out in the rest of the world I have less control. No, I've enjoyed having you around, James."
"How come you do all this for me?" I asked.
She turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "What, forcing you to struggle along with me? I like having a running companion, what can I say?"
She snickered and sipped her water.
"I mean everything," I said, and Claudine watched me, more serious now. "The clothes, the lessons, how to dress, how to carry myself... I'm a different person than I was two weeks ago."
Claudine examined me closely. "Is that a bad thing?"
I shook my head. "No, it's amazing, I just... don't know why you'd bother with me."
Claudine snorted and smiled a wan, shy smile. "You have more potential than you give yourself credit for. After all, Francesca spent a few days teaching you how to use that tongue of yours and you showed quite a lot of hidden talent very quickly!"
I grinned. "But I had barely kissed a girl before coming here, I had no idea if I could do that."
