Menage A Quatre A New Family

This story is set in Lyon, France and involves an American ex-pat who lives and works there. I have tried to make the story more authentic by using some occasional French. I am a native English speaker, and still make the occasional mistake when my stories are written entirely in English; obviously, my French is far from perfect. Although I am conversational in French, I rarely write in French and I'm sure I've made some mistakes. If that is going to ruin your life, please find another great story to read on this site. I do try very hard to catch all of my mistakes, but unless you have written fiction yourself, you have no idea how hard it is to catch all of your mistakes. Please be kind.

If you don't read or speak French, don't worry. The French text is not important to the plot of the story. I've included it more as an accent to help the story along. Thank you for reading my story and please enjoy.

All characters are 18 years old or older.

Part I

It was hot and crowded on the subway and Louis was not amused when the metallic voice overheard sounded, "

Il y a un problème á la prochaine gare.

" Although Louis had lived in Lyon for less than a year, his French had improved quickly. A problem in the next station probably meant they'd be stuck in the tunnel for at least 15 minutes.

He suddenly became aware of the soft yet firm, unmistakable feeling of a breast being pressed against his left hand, which was holding a pole in the middle of the train car. It's funny how the male brain can discern the press of a breast from all other feelings. There was never a doubt; a breast was pressing against his hand. He looked down and saw that a young lady, perhaps 18- or 19-years-old had accidentally leaned against his hand in the press of human flesh that crowded the

Monplaisir

-

Lumière

to

Bellecour

rush hour subway car. She had wrapped her arms around the pole that Louis was holding and was busy tapping away on her iPhone with both hands. With her attention on her phone, Louis took his time admiring the firm flesh that only a teenager could manage. He thought to himself, "There's no substitute for age." Because her breast was pressed firmly against his hand, the top of her orb was attempting to climb out of the open neck of her tank top T-shirt. Her skin was pale, and he could just make out the light blue lines of veins beneath the surface of her skin. It was hard to tell just how large her breasts were, but they appeared to be nice, perhaps the size of a grapefruit, perhaps larger.

She quickly glanced up from her phone, met Louis' eyes, smiled, and returned her attention to her phone. "Is it possible she's doing this on purpose?" Louis pondered. "I mean, I'm at least 20 years older than her."

At 41 years old, Louis had gone through a particularly tough divorce last year. His wife of 20 years had had an affair. There's nothing particularly strange about that in this age of on-line dating apps. However, to add insult to injury, she had gotten pregnant by her lover and then passed off the new child as Louis'. He had no reason to doubt that he was a brand-new father at the ripe old age of 40, until she dropped a bomb on him at Christmas. She told him that he was not the child's father, that she had had an affair, and the father of her child also happened to be Louis' younger brother. The way Louis saw it, he had two choices: (1) he could kill them both and go to prison for life or worse, or, (2) he could move to another country. The opportunity came when the chemical company he worked for needed a chemical engineer to start immediately in their subsidiary plant just south of Lyon on the Rhône River. The Hiring Manager had asked, "Do you know any French?"

Louis channeled his best Patti LeBelle and sang (poorly), "

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir

?"

The Manger stared at Louis for a second and said, "Good enough for me."

The train moved forward about ten meters and stopped again with a sudden lurch. There was an audible collective sigh from the occupants of the car when the train moved followed by a collective groan when it stopped again. He was disappointed when he felt the breast move from his hand, but then was rewarded by a new feeling of breasts pressed against his arm resulting from the train's sudden stop. He glanced to the left of the pole, and a second lady of approximately the same age was now pushing her young chest into his arm. She was far less subtle and locked her dark eyes on his while giving him a wan smile. Her complexion was much darker than that of the first lady, making Louis think she might be of Algerian decent.

Louis smiled back at her. "

Excusez-moi, Madenoiselle

."

"

Pas de grave

," she replied. She smiled at him again and asked, "

Anglais

?"

He answered her in English, "No. American."

"Ah. I'm glad you're not a Roast Beef." She used the standard degrading term the French had for the English, and her accent was adorable. She looked across Louis' arm and addressed the lady who had first pressed her breast against his hand. "

Je t'ai dit qu'il n'était pas Anglais.

"

She stood up again removing her breasts from Louis' arm and said, "I'm Ghislaine. That's Aurélie."

"I'm pleased to meet you both. My name is Louis." He pronounced it 'lew-is' instead of the French 'lou-ee.'

Aurélie spoke for the first time. "We love Americans. Are you here on holiday, Louis?" She pronounced it 'lou-ee' and her accent was just as adorable as Ghislaine's.

"No. I live here now."

Ghislaine was genuinely surprised. "

C'est vrai

?"

Aurélie followed quickly with,

"Dans arrondissement?

"

Louis looked between the two lovely young ladies. He was at that awkward stage of learning a new language where he could understand almost everything said to him as long as he understood the context of the conversation. He understood that they had asked him what district he lived in; Lyon is divided into nine districts called

arrodissements

. However, he was afraid that if he continued in French, he might get over his head in a hurry. He answered in English, but then quickly switched back to French because it was just easier to answer that way. "The second.

À la Place des Jacobins

."

The girls were impressed and smiled at one another. Then Ghislaine surprised Louis and used American slang. "That's lit!"

He smiled. "Word."

They all laughed. "Are you friends from school?" Although he was truly interested, he also thought this was a sly way to figure out if they were in high school or university.

"No," Aurélie said, "sisters."

Now Louis was confused. Ghislaine had dark, olive skin with big dark eyes and long curly dark hair. Her body was thin and athletic with medium to small breasts that fit her frame. Her narrow torso flared nicely into wide hips and a round butt. Aurélie on the other had sandy hair with blue eyes and a very fair complexion with a classic French nose. She was shorter than Ghislaine and had a full figure with larger breasts and curves. They certainly didn't look like sisters.

The confusion obviously showed on his face because Aurélie said, "Different fathers. Same mother."

"Ahh."

The train lurched forward again and Aurélie's breasts pressed back into Louis' hand. She smiled at him demurely, lowered her eyes, and looked up at him, batting her lashes. "

Excusez-moi, monsieur."

Holy fuck she was adorable, and Louis' cock immediately reacted. Clearly these young ladies were having fun with him.

In less than 30 seconds the train pulled into the

Bellecour

station and Louis was genuinely disappointed for the first time in his life to have to get off the subway. "It was a pleasure meeting you ladies, but this is my station." He reluctantly let go of the pole and pulled his hand away from Aurélie's breasts.

He offered his hand to Ghislaine as a polite way to part company. She took it, but to his surprise she grasped it and headed for the door of the train. "This is our station,

aussi

." As they departed from the car, Aurélie grabbed his other hand and the two of them started running for the north exit of the station bordering

Place Bellecour

dragging him with them. "Come on, Louis, we want you to meet someone."

As they reached the top of the stairs across the street from the McDonald's the girls ran up to a very well dressed, quite attractive woman of about his age. "

Maman, on peut te présenter notre nouvel ami, Louis.

" They then turned to him and said, "Louis, please allow us to present our mother, Marine Meunière."

This is where Louis could get in big trouble using his French. Small talk was hard, but he decided that common respect dictated that he use his French. "

C'est un plaisir de vous recontrer, madam."

He was extremely relieved when she answered in English. She offered him her hand and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Louis...". She paused because she had not been properly introduced with his last name.

"Yes. Of course. Sorry. Miller. Louis Miller."

"

Voilà

. It is a pleasure to meet you

Monsieur

Louis Miller."

Ghislaine excitedly said, "

Maman

! You could be his wife!" The girls giggled.

Louis was truly confused, and it showed on his face.

"Indeed." She smiled at Louis. "Meunière is a miller's wife. It's one of the most common surnames in France." She turned to the girls. "

Allons-y ou nous serons en retard.

"

Each of the girls surprised Louis and hugged him tight, giving him a kiss on each cheek in the standard French style. Aurélie said, "Goodbye, Lew-is." Ghislaine said, "Give me your phone." She quickly typed in a number and said, "That's my number. SMS me so we have your number.

Au revoir,

Lew-is."

The girls ran across the street giggling. Marine looked at Louis and shrugged. "What can I do?" She offered her hand to him. "It was very nice meeting you." She held his hand longer than necessary contemplating his face. "My girls seem to fancy you. They don't ordinarily like people so quickly." She stepped toward him and kissed him on each cheek. She whispered in his ear, "You must be special." She smiled at him and crossed the street where the girls had disappeared moments before.

Louis stood on the corner for a bit. "What the fuck just happened?"

Part II

That evening, Louis sat in the small living room of his 85 m

2

apartment on the fifth floor overlooking the water fountain in the center of the

Place des Jacobins

. The big full moon was setting in the west silhouetting the

Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière

through the four windows that fronted the street facing west. All the windows were open, and the cool evening breeze was finally bringing comfort from the hot summer day. Although it was 11:00 PM, there were still people on the street below enjoying the summer evening. Most were probably just finishing supper. Louis still had not gotten used to the European penchant to start supper at 9:00 PM, although he was starting to eat later and later as his time in France extended. He ate most of his meals in his apartment. He told himself it was to save money, but the truth is that he hadn't really made that many friends outside of work. His work friends had families and lived in the small suburbs that surrounded Lyon, rarely traveling into the city during the week.

He picked up his cell phone and opened the contact he had saved under 'Ghislaine' earlier in the day. "Am I crazy to text her? She may not even be an adult." He thought about it and then decided that her mother had seen her give him her number, so at least there was that. He typed, "Are you still awake? -Louis" and hit send.

Ghislaine replied immediately "It's too hot to sleep." Louis smiled. Another message came through. "I'm glad you sent me a message."

He was contemplating a witty reply when the phone chimed again. A selfie of Ghislaine and Aurélie laying together on a pillow looking up at the camera came through. The girls were making 'duck lips' and each of their faces was framed by their loose hair on the pillow. The picture was comical and sexy at the same time.

Louis wrote, "Great photo!" He completely forgot that he was sitting in his living room wearing only his boxer shorts and snapped a selfie for the girls.

After 30 seconds he got a reply. "Nice chest. Very muscular."

"Oh, shit," Louis said to himself. He put the phone down afraid to continue. He had no idea how French law handled 'sexting' to underage minors. He thought about that and then sent the message, "Sorry to ask, but how old are you?"

There was a long period with no response and then a photo came through that made Louis' cock jump. The girls were both wearing very short and skimpy teddies. The photo was taken from a distance as he could see them from head to barefoot toe. He zoomed in on the girls and was admiring their beautiful figures when it dawned on him that someone must have taken this photo for them. But, who? Marine? Would a mother take a photo of her near naked daughters for them to send to a stranger? As he contemplated this another text came through. "Guess."

Louis quickly typed, "Well, I'm hoping both of you are 18."

"Well, Aurélie is."

Louis' heart skipped a beat. "And you are not?"

"No, I'm 20. Aurélie is 18."

He sighed audibly and began to breathe again. He would not be spending the next few years in a French prison.

Another photo popped up on his screen. Now the girls were turned with their backs to the camera wearing only the panties that matched their teddy bear nighties. Each girl had her teddy in her hand and was looking back over her shoulder at the camera. He noticed right away that Aurélie had a beautiful full figure; he could see the side of one of her large breasts and admired her full teenage rear. Ghislaine had long athletic legs and a tight teardrop butt. Again, he pondered who was taking these photos for them.

"

Maman

would like you to come for dinner this weekend if you are free."

"I am. What day?"

"Friday. Dinner at 2100. Come after 2000."

"It's a date."

"

Bisous

"

"

Bonne nuit

"

Louis had trouble sleeping that night.

Part III

On Friday Louis took a cool bath and dressed in a black linen short sleeve shirt that he left untucked into the black linen pants that he wore. He left the house at 8:00 PM, an hour before he was expected for dinner, walked across the

Place des Jacobins

to the wine store, and purchased a bottle of red wine based on the recommendation of the owner. In France one never showed up to a party without a bottle of wine. Never.

He was happy that dinner was at 9:00 PM to give Lyon time to cool down. As it turned out, Marine and the girls lived on the

Croix-Rousse

in the

Premier Arrondissement

. This is the artsy district of Lyon, old and romantic. He could have walked, but he decided instead to take the subway since it was essentially all uphill from his neighborhood, it was hot, and he didn't want to be a sweaty mess when he presented himself. He walked north from the wine store to the

Cordelier

station and rode the subway to the

Croix-Rousse

station.

The ladies also lived in a five-story walk-up apartment building built about the time that Napoleon was emperor of France. In France, the ground floor is not labeled "First Floor," so a five-story building in France would be called a six-story building in the US. He was happy to see that also like his apartment, the building had been retrofitted with a tiny elevator barely big enough for two people. "No sweaty mess."

When the elevator stopped on the fifth floor, Louis stepped out and was greeted by two heavy wooden doors. Obviously, there were two apartments on this floor and, typical for France, neither door was labeled. He shook his head and stared at the doors. He had no idea which door opened to the Meunière apartment. As he started to knock on the door to the left, it suddenly flew open and Aurélie squealed and hugged him tight. "Come in Lew-is!" She pulled him by the hand into the apartment.

Both of the younger ladies were beaming at Louis. They were wearing matching form-fitting tank-tops that ended half-way between their breasts and their bellybuttons, showing their trim flat abdomens. Ghislaine's abdomen was athletic with definition between the muscles. Her skin was olive color like her face and arms. Aurélie's abdomen was also fit, but softer without definition. Her bellybutton was pierced. Both girls wore short denim skirts and were barefooted. Ghislaine was easily a half-foot taller than her sister.

Noting that the girls were without shoes, Louis kicked his shoes off and left them by the front door as is the tradition in France. He followed the girls into the kitchen watching their pretty butts switch in front of him. He noted their shapely legs with admiration. He thought to himself,

there is no substitute for age

.

Marine was finishing up the meal. She smiled at Louis and said, "

Bienvenue chez nous

."

Louis handed the wine to Marine and said, "I wasn't sure what you were preparing, so I got a

Côtes du Rhône

."

"It's perfect." She handed the bottle to Ghislaine and said, "

Ouvres la bouteille

."

They had a wonderful dinner consuming his bottle of wine and several others. His head was swimming by the time the girls excused themselves at 11 o'clock. "I'm so sleepy," Aurélie said while rubbing her eyes with her fists. The girls had drunk just as much wine as had Louis and Marine.

Ghislaine stretched pressing her lovely breasts forward while pulling her arms back. "

Moi aussi

." She yawned and said to Louis, "Please kiss us goodbye before you leave." The girls got up and headed down the hallway to their bedroom.

Louis watched them walk down the hallway imagining what they might look like if they were naked. He imagined Ghislaine's tight athletic butt and Aurélie's full, round hips until Marine broke his trance. "They are lovely,

n'est pas

?"

His cheeks reddened. "They are beautiful." He wondered if she would be angry at him if she knew what he was really thinking.

She studied his face as they sat in silence. He noticed for the first time that she was really quite beautiful. She had dark hair that fell just below her shoulders and green eyes that contrasted nicely with her perfect skin. Her nose was small and slightly upturned, which made her cute. She had small lines next to her eyes that betrayed her actual age, which Louis guessed was about 40. She was trim, but not skinny. She smiled at him. "You are studying my face."

Louis blinked and looked away. "Guilty." He shook his head. "Pardon my rudeness. It's the wine."

"Not at all." She smiled and took his left hand into her hands. "It's nice to have a man look at me again." Her smile faded. "It's been some time since..." Her voice faded to nothing.

She looked sad, which made him sad.

"Are you divorced?" he asked her.

She stared at him for a several long seconds and said, "Well, it's complicated." She looked even sadder. "Do you really want to know?"

He gave her a wan smile. "I don't have many friends in France, and I'd like to get to know you and the girls better."

"Okay." She sighed deeply. "I was married to a wonderful man when I was very young. He was Algerian, and obviously Ghislaine's father." She looked away from Louis' face. "We were very happy until he was arrested by the

Gendarmerie Nationale

. They said he was a terrorist!" Her eyes welled up with tears. She sobbed and looked back at Louis. "They said he was involved in some terrorist plots during the Algerian Civil War. He died in their custody." She got up from her chair and walked to an end table that held a box of tissues. She wiped her eyes and her nose. When she sat back down with Louis at the dining room table she said, "Sorry."