I awoke at around six a.m. on Wednesday morning in Lily's bed in Paris, and even though I could see that it was still dark outside, I slipped out trying not to awaken her since she was curled into a ball and softly snoring. We had fallen asleep only two hours ago but I had eschewed my normal morning run for three straight days, and my body was reminding me of my dereliction.
When I had returned to Lily's apartment last evening, I had remembered to bring the gym bag that held my running gear, so I really didn't have a good excuse, unless, of course, you counted Lily's wonderful naked body lying less than an arm's length away.
I had no idea where there was a good spot to run my normal five miles so I just exited her building and looked around. There was a crushed stone path that led toward the River Seine and I decided to just follow it. It led to a bike path that ran along the river and I could see another one on the opposite bank. It was perfect. So I decided that I'd just do an out and back. I didn't really have to measure the distance since at my normal easy pace, I'd reach the turnaround point in eighteen minutes. There was a sliver of sunlight on the eastern horizon and that's the direction that I headed.
Two minutes into the run, I slipped into an easy aerobic pace and as usual, my mind began to wander. I had initially come to Paris almost a week ago to finalize a bid to acquire a French company in our line of business and while I was here, I decided to visit the Paris Freyja Club where I'd been initiated a year previously. It was there that I met Lily who was the chief hostess and whose responsibility was to greet every member as they entered the club, either through the Viking Door for men, or the Swan Door for women. Men and women entered the Freyja Club through separate entrances for one simple reason, all females in the club were required to be naked, but there was no such requirement for men. Of course, the female staff had to abide by the same rule, so when I first met Lily I was dressed in a sports coat and slacks but she only had a pair of white heels, a pearl necklace, a gold tiara with her first name engraved on the crown and a million-dollar smile.
Lily is a gorgeous woman. While she's forty-four years old, she has the looks and body of someone a decade younger. Her pale skin is toned and flawless and she wears her blonde hair in the style that Dorothy Hammel popularized during the 1976 Winter Olympics in Innsbruck. Her blue eyes are a testament to her Austrian heritage and are the focus of her oval face. When I first met her she was wearing a pair of oversized black wire-framed glasses that gave her an undeserved aura of innocence and modesty; two traits that I have since learned are not part of her personality.
She sports a small nose and a thin neck but, next to her eyes, the most striking feature is her smile. When she does, her pinkish-red lips broaden and reveal bright white teeth and cute dimples on her cheeks.
Lily's thin neck leads to delicate-looking collarbones and narrow shoulders supporting beautiful feminine arms on a frame that seems inadequate for her fleshy 36C breasts that jut proudly from her chest with just the slightest bit of sag. Her figure is proportional to her five foot-three height and one-hundred and twenty-pound weight. One of the things that I noticed right away was the muscle tone of her legs, which I knew could only be achieved by some serious exercise. Later, I learned that Lily is a runner like me, just not a six-in-the-morning one.
Her smooth alabaster thighs frame the silky hair of her pubes that she trims but doesn't shave and her labia forms a clean slit that runs between her legs with only a hint of her vaginal lips peeking out. Some people describe this look as an "innie." All in all, Lily is every man's wet dream from her gorgeous figure, to her winning personality and as I've now experienced, her uninhibited sexuality.
Two nights ago, as Lily and I were locked in a carnal embrace, she looked into my eyes and, with apparent sincerity, said "Je t'aime," and I had impulsively answered, "Me too." Both her statement and my immediate response had shocked me to my core. I am aware that some people say "I love you" in a casual and insincere way, but I am not one of them. I have always considered those words to be almost sacred, and I can remember only using them three times in my entire life and never to someone that I knew for less than two days. I never believed in the proposition of "Love at first sight," and just as I reached my turnaround point, I knew that in my heart I was reexamining that notion while my mind continued to assert its absurdity.
While thoughts of Lily had filled my mind for most of my run, it was hardly the only thing that had taken my plans and put them in a Waring Mix-Master. Last evening, I got a call from David, the CEO of my company to inform me that they were seeing some unusual movement in our company's stock and were concerned that it might signal a hostile takeover of our firm. Initially, David wanted me to return since he was convening the Executive Committee on the matter, but I told him that at this early stage, getting information was more important than attending a meeting and if my suspicions were correct, the threat, if that was what it was, was likely coming from Europe. David saw the logic of me staying in Paris and working through my contacts in person rather than over trans-Atlantic phone lines, so he asked me what I needed and I told him to send the cavalry.
I got back to Lily's a little after seven, but given her work schedule I didn't expect to see her up and about until around eleven a.m. I briefly considered just curling up next to her, but since I knew that duty called, I just looked at her and sighed. I grabbed the small suitcase that held my day clothes and changed without taking a shower. That could wait until I got back to my hotel. The man at the security desk was kind enough to call me a cab and soon I was back at the Hôtel Barrière located in the village of Enghien-les-bains, where I took a shower and went to the rooftop restaurant to grab some breakfast.
By nine a.m. I began to work the phones. My first call was to my French accountants who were assisting me in my original mission. I explained that we would be putting that on hold for some period, but I chose not to explain why. For now, the single phone in my hotel was adequate, but as calls started coming in as well as going out, it became obvious that I needed to set up a temporary office, as the French say, "Tout de suite," which means "Like right now."
A little after eleven I received a call from Lily. "I woke up and you were gone," she pouted, "I miss you and I want to see you," I told her that I missed her too, but that I was going to be chained to the telephone for most of the day, but if she wanted to come over I'd buy her lunch. Lily squealed her acceptance and an hour later I heard a knock at my door.
I was on a call to a banker that I knew in Geneva and I was glad that I'd had the foresight to unlock the door, so Lily let herself in. When she stepped into the room, my first thought was... God, she's beautiful!
