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The French Apartment – Chapter 2: Vivienne and Claudine
I laid in the bathtub for a while, thinking and recovering. I was still sensitive and I was happy to let myself recover slowly in the bathwater. My body still retained the warm memory of Claudine, like an imprint in my skin. That was the first real sexual experience of my life and it felt like something had changed inside me. I was struggling to figure out what it was… perhaps I was more confident now? Maybe? As I laid in the bath, I gently stroked my sensitive dick under the water and wondered what had actually changed, if anything. Then my stomach growled, and I realized I had a much more immediate, and less existential, issue to deal with.
I heard the front door to the apartment open, and I heard voices. One was Claudine’s and the other was younger. I drained the tub and looked around to put something on, only to realize I didn’t actually have any clothes in the bathroom. My bags were just outside the door, but the voices weren’t far away. Walking out in a towel was going to make the best first impression, but I didn’t have a lot of options.
I knew I needed to wait for the perfect opportunity to slip out, get my clothes, and return to the bathroom and change without being noticed. They spoke for a while, but I listened for a lull in the conversation, and when it was quiet, I turned the knob. The door opened completely silently, and I pushed it open just a crack. I peeked through the crack in the door and could see my bags just in the entryway where I had left them. Perfect. I would be out and back in a flash. I opened the door and tiptoed outside, holding the towel around my waist.
Someone cleared their throat loudly, and I turned and froze.
A teenage girl was sitting at a big dining room table across the hall, and she was staring right at me. It had to be Claudine’s daughter Vivienne; her face and eyes were beautiful, and the resemblance to Claudine was undeniable. Vivienne, however, had an intense, penetrating glare her mother didn’t have, and her style was completely different. Vivienne’s shoulder length slightly messy jet black hair and black eyeliner gave her a punky, aggressive look.
I stood frozen like a deer in headlights as she got up, walked around the dining room table, and stood in front of me with her arms crossed. Vivienne actually looked a little out place… she looked like a young movie star who had just come from a movie about 80s high school outcasts and had wandered onto the set of a French period drama. She was barefoot and wore a loose oversized black Ramones T-shirt and skin-tight ripped jeans. Despite the loose fitting shirt, it was clear she had inherited a great rack, and the swell of her breasts pushed out perky and aggressive over her crossed arms. Were those her nipples poking little points in the fabric?
I tried to look at her eyes, but failed immediately. If I had gained any sort of newfound confidence from the bath with Claudine, it evaporated quickly under Vivienne’s piercing glare.
She spoke a quick string of unintelligible French and then I heard Claudine’s ‘tsk’ chiding sound from the other room.
“Vivienne, you should use English while James is here. It is only polite,” Claudine’s voice said from around the corner.
Vivienne rolled her eyes and she kept her gaze on me while she talked with her mother. “He didn’t think to learn French before coming to France?”
“It’s one of his classes, and I will make sure he learns. I expect much from my in-house students, you know that,” Claudine’s voice replied from the other room, musical and unconcerned.
Vivienne huffed. “So then do all the exchange students arrive naked this year or only yours?”
Claudine exclaimed in French, and she came around the corner, took off a pair of reading glasses, and looked to Vivienne and then to me.
“He is not naked, he has a towel,” Claudine said, but then her voice lowered as she leaned closer to me. “James, have you been in the bathroom this whole time?”
I hesitated and shrugged. “I was just about to get my clothes…”
“And the naked American boy has been staring at me,” Vivienne said.
I looked down to the floor, and felt my face flush.
Claudine looked to her and scoffed. “What else should he look at? You don’t even wear a bra, and you’re staring at him too.”
“Well it’s my house,” Vivienne said, never removing her eyes from me. “I can wear what I want and look where I want.”
“No, it’s my house,” Claudine corrected. “And James is our guest.”
“Your guest,” Vivienne growled.
I chuckled nervously and held out a hand to Vivienne while holding my towel with the other. “Well uh… nice to officially meet you, Vivienne. Claudine told me all about you.”
Vivienne just narrowed her eyes and her arms remained crossed. “Nice to meet you, James the Virgin,” she replied.
I sighed, and looked from her to Claudine, feeling defeated. Why did Claudine mention that?
“So why exactly did you need to tell my mother about such things?” Vivienne asked. I felt like I was under investigation.
For a brief moment, I debated just telling Vivienne the truth, but that would require me to say something along the lines of, ‘your mother was very aggressively questioning me about my sexual history.’ I had no idea what the dynamic was between these two, but I had a feeling that line wouldn’t go over well with anyone.
“I don’t know, it just kind of… came up,” I said with a shrug. “Sorry.”
“Gross,” Vivienne said and waved her hand dismissively, as she returned to her pile of textbooks on the dining room table.
“Well you can change now,” Claudine said and returned to the other room.
I finally had my opportunity to retrieve my clothes and I went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror in a way I had never really done before. For the first time I admired my small brown curls of chest hair: after all, Claudine approved of them. My stomach was flat; maybe it wasn’t quite a six-pack, but perhaps I was in better shape than I gave myself credit for. Hitting the gym had been one of my ways of coping with a lack of finding dates in college and perhaps it was now paying off. I tried to fix my hair, but it was still a bit of an unkempt mess. Maybe I would need some tips on how to style that, I really had no idea what I was doing. I quickly changed into a simple button down shirt and jeans. When I came out, my stomach was growling again.
Vivienne terrified me, so I walked around the apartment to find Claudine. The apartment was huge. I realized I still hadn’t even seen all of it. I found Claudine over in the living room, lounging on a wide loveseat in front of the high windows. Vivienne was in the dining room, but it was far enough away that you’d have to yell to be heard from here.
Claudine was reading a book with her long bare legs crossed in front of her, and she had changed into a nighttime look. Her hair was pulled up above her head into a loose knot, and she wore a pair of small rectangular reading glasses. She wore a white kimono-styled silk robe with flowers traveling up and down the sides. I stared down at her as she sat, and my eyes lingered on her cleavage. I could glimpse her white bra underneath: I could only see the top of it, but it was clearly an expensive looking piece of lingerie.
She looked up at me. I turned to look outside the windows, casually, so it wasn’t obvious that I had been staring at her cleavage.
“This view is really incredible,” I said, gesturing to the windows. I wasn’t lying. It was evening and the apartment’s high windows allowed a surprising view of the pretty little street outside. I wondered if they could see in.
“I’m glad you like it,” Claudine said, and put down her book. “I want you to be comfortable here, James.”
“Oh I think I will be. I mean, this apartment is amazing,” I said.
“You like my apartment, hm?” Claudine asked with a raised eyebrow. “Any thoughts on the people in it?”
“Oh I’ve really liked my time here so far, no complaints.” I grinned and met her knowing stare.
“Yes, I could feel how much you liked it,” Claudine murmured, with a wicked grin.
“Though, I don’t think your daughter likes me for some reason…” I said hesitantly.
Claudine patted the wide armrest next to her. I sat on it, like a perched bird. She looked a little awkward and shy, which wasn’t an expression I expected to find on her and it didn’t suit her.
“Remember you promised me…” Claudine whispered.
“To be her friend, yes…” I nodded and scratched my head. “I realize now that may be harder than it sounded at the time.”
Claudine’s voice was low and she shuffled uncomfortably. “Sorry I told Vivienne about the eh virgin thing, I should have known better… I thought it might, I don’t know, put her at ease perhaps? But I think I only succeeded in embarrassing you and making her angry.”
Her wide bright eyes looked up at me, searching. “Are you mad?”
I shook my head as I looked down at her. “No, I don’t think I can be mad at you. Though I’m not a huge fan of my new nickname…”
“Well thank you for not holding a grudge, James the Virgin,” Claudine said as her grin returned and she squeezed my thigh playfully.
I chuckled, and she leaned forward and spoke in a low whisper. “You were in the bathroom a long time. Were you eh…” she made a jerking motion with her hand, and her eyes looked down to my crotch.
My eyes widened, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Claudine looked up at me. “I thought you were spent!” she whispered.
Vivienne spoke in French loudly from the other room. I recognized the word ‘diner’. Claudine gave me a wink and left to go talk with Vivienne. They spoke for a few sentences; it sounded somewhere between an argument and Claudine giving instructions. Eventually, Claudine turned to me.
“You and Vivienne are going to dinner,” Claudine announced, waving me over.
Vivienne sighed. “What about Francesca?”
“Do you see her?” Claudine waved a hand and looked around dramatically in a gesture to show she wasn’t here. Claudine turned to me. “My housekeeper just told me she is sick,” she explained.
“Let’s just order food,” Vivienne offered.
Claudine gave her a hard look. “It would not be such a bad thing for you to get to know your new roommate! Don’t be such a… grump!”
“You’re not coming?” I asked Claudine. The idea of spending a meal with only Vivienne did not sound particularly pleasant.
Claudine shook her head. “I have food here. And I am already in my robe for the night,” she said, gesturing to herself. My eyes ran up and down her curves hungrily which were accentuated by the flowers and barely concealed underneath the thin silk robe. I shook my head and forced myself to look somewhere else.
“It’s fine, I can find somewhere on my own,” I said, not wanting to cause a fight. “There must be a million places to eat around here.”
“Nonsense!” Claudine said and walked over to get her purse. She grabbed a credit card and handed it to Vivienne. “Wherever you two want to go,” she said. Vivienne made a motion to grasp the card, but Claudine pulled it back quickly.
“Within reason,” Claudine added.
Vivienne hesitated and looked to me and Claudine. She swiped the credit card and put it in her jeans. She spoke in French with Claudine quickly, and it sounded like they were negotiating terms.
“Fine,” Vivienne said, as she put on her sneakers. “Come on, American boy.”
Walking through the streets of Paris with Vivienne was awkward. She made no effort to ask me where I wanted to go, so I just followed her. I just looked around, taking in the beautiful sights of Paris in the evening and stealing glances at Vivienne’s pretty, petite body as she walked quickly in front of me. My stomach growled loudly, again, and Vivienne turned.
“Was that sound your stomach?” she asked.
“I haven’t really eaten all day,” I said, remembering my trip here. I had flown to Paris earlier this afternoon, and that felt like ages ago. “So where are we going? Somewhere good?” I asked, trying to be cheerful.
“Of course it is good,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Why would I go somewhere not good?”
I didn’t know what to say to that and just followed her to wide plaza that served as the intersection for a bunch of little side streets. Vivienne sat down on a small metal table outside of a cute but understated café. I would have probably walked by it and not thought much of the place if I were walking myself, and there were so many little cafes and restaurants around here that I would have trouble deciding where to go anyway. Many people were walking outside without any particular rush, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the pleasant evening.
I settled into a small metal chair across from Vivienne. “Good people watching here,” I said, approvingly.
She smirked. “Yes, that is why I like it. This area is very… artistic. Lots of colleges and art studios. It is easy to find people looking ridiculous. And not to mention the tourists,” she said, laughing to herself.
I just chuckled and shook my head.
“What?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Nothing, I just thought it was funny,” I said.
“Funny? Why?” she asked with an edge in her voice.
I sighed. “I just thought it was funny that you come here to judge people, basically,” I said, and her eyes narrowed. “But that’s alright! I’m not… judging your judgments.”
“I’m not going to eat dinner with you if you’re just going to insult me all evening,” she said.
I remembered my promise to Claudine, and I was thinking how to respond when a young college-age man walked through the plaza in all black: black turtleneck, skin-tight black pants, and a black beret. I nodded towards him and leaned across the small table.
“You mean like him? He looks like what I would wear on Halloween if I wanted to dress like an artistic French person.”
Vivienne smirked as she looked at him and nodded. “I bet he posts hundreds of pictures on Instagram and his ‘art’ is just him spitting onto a canvas.”
“Oh he’s taking a cigarette out now too, classic,” I said as he strolled by, oblivious to our commentary.
“Well of course, the cigarette is part of the look,” Vivienne agreed.
A handsome waiter dressed in a vest and black pants came to our table and spoke quickly in French. He ignored me completely once it became obvious that I didn’t speak French. My smile dropped a little as Vivienne smiled back at him. The waiter was really good looking, with a five o’clock shadow, perfect hair, and big arms. I didn’t need to speak French to know that he was flirting with her: the tone was universal. She responded playfully, and I felt jealous immediately. But then I thought: did I care? Should I?
After a few sentences Vivienne turned to me.
“What do you eat?” she asked.
I looked between the two of them. “I eat a lot of things, I guess I just wanted to try some real French food? Is there a menu?”
“Oh, ‘Real French food’?” she said, smirking. “Then I will be sure not to order you a hamburger.”
My stomach rumbled loud and lustily at the mere thought of a hamburger. “You could order the closest French equivalent to a hamburger,” I mumbled, mostly to myself. She smirked and turned back to the waiter.
Vivienne ordered something, and the waiter responded in a tone I thought was condescending, but in French it was hard to tell. She waved back at him dismissively, and they both seemed a little annoyed as he left the table.
“I ordered us steak frites and a Beaujolais,” she said. Her eyes looked to the ground and she fidgeted uncomfortably.
“Oh alright,” I said, nodding. I did recognize the word ‘steak’ so that made me hopeful “Yeah that sounds like a good order,” I agreed.
She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. “You like Beaujolais?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, sure,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes, evaluating me, and smirked. “What do you prefer, a Beaujolais or Bordeaux?” She had a malevolent glint in her eye and I knew that I had fooled no one.
“To be honest, I have no idea what that these words are that you’re saying,” I admitted.
She snorted. “It’s red wine. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”
“Oh you can drink?” I asked. “Are you old enough…”
“I am nineteen,” she said, staring me down with her arms crossed. “And the drinking age in France is eighteen, which nobody cares about anyway, and I had my first sip of wine when I was eight. Is that a problem for you, American boy?”
I held up my hands. “No no, I’m not complaining. You clearly know more about wine than I do, anyway. So…” I leaned forward and whispered, changing the topic. “What was the deal with the waiter? Seems like you two disagreed over something?”
She rolled her eyes. “He made fun of me.”
“Made fun of you?” I asked, surprised. “What could he possibly have been making fun of you for?”
She sighed and shrugged. “Apparently ‘pretty ladies like me’ should not eat steak frites, and he asked if I should order a salad instead. He thought he was flirting.”
“What an asshat,” I said, waving my hand dismissively, and adopting Vivienne’s mannerism for it.
She cocked her head and thought for a moment. “What is that word? ‘Ass’… what?”
“Asshat?” I asked. “It’s like… ass-plus-hat. Like having an ass for a head, or something. It doesn’t make much sense, I guess. Just another way to call someone an asshole.”
“Ass-hat,” She said the word like she was reciting vocabulary in class, and nodded approvingly. “Yes, I will remember it. So, James, do you think I am being… un-lady-like?”
I shrugged and looked back at her. “I don’t care. And you might be the hottest girl I’ve ever met in my life, so who am I to judge what you eat?”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Flatterer,” she said, and turned to look out to the crowd. But I thought I saw the hint of a smile creep into the sides of her mouth.
Eventually, the waiter brought back a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses. He offered the bottle to me, label forward. I looked from Vivienne to the waiter, to the bottle, and back to Vivienne.
“Am I supposed to do something?” I asked.
“It’s to show you the bottle,” Vivienne said. “I thought he would offer the taste to you, even though I ordered it. You are, after all, the man of the table. So, it is for you to approve the bottle.”
I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed at me, or annoyed at the waiter, or if she was just amused that I was so far out of my depth. But I decided to play along.
“Oh yes, of course,” I said, and acted as if I was evaluating the bottle closely. I tapped the label approvingly and turned to Vivienne. “There’s a picture of a little house on it.”
She buried her face in her hands and I saw her smile appear behind her hands. The waiter sighed and poured a tiny bit into a glass and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, and looked at the tiny bit of wine at the bottom of the glass. “Is this all I get?”
“I cannot tell if you are making jokes or not,” Vivienne said, shaking her head.
“I know I’m supposed to taste it,” I admitted and gulped the taste of wine down.
“Yes, but you were supposed to swirl it around in the glass first,” she said.
“Oh,” I said, and thought for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve seen people do that. What’s the point?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s what people do. So how is it?”
“It’s good,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say about it. I had seen people use a bunch of ridiculous adjectives to describe wine before, but I wouldn’t even know where to start with that sort of thing. “Definitely better than the Two Buck Chuck my roommates buy from Trader Joe’s,” I said.
I could see Vivienne silently debating whether she should ask me what meant, but ultimately she just shook her head and stared at me with a mixture of amusement and derision.
The waiter looked at me as if I was the biggest moron he had ever seen, and poured her a glass, then me, and placed the bottle on the table. He started flirting with Vivienne again. She seemed to humor him, and he left.
ero
