It’s Paris, Silly
out, we weren’t the only ones late. A heavy-set man sat behind the
smoking a cigarette. In broken English, he told us that the tour guide
arriving any minute now, and asked us to take a seat. We climbed on
I saw that the only empty seats were behind a middle-aged man with a
young lady sitting next to him. As we walked down the aisle, I couldn’t
but take in how beautiful she was. Her curly blond hair almost touched
shoulders. She wore a white lace blouse without sleeves that fit snugly
her full bosom. Her
face was translucent,
white as snow. I tried to look without being obvious, but anyone could
I stared. Luckily, I was in front of my wife and she didn’t notice. I
window seat directly behind the young woman. Now, when she turned to
her companion, I was treated to glimpses of her cute nose, and sensuous
spoke German to him. That someone with such fine delicate features as
utter a harsh, guttural language like German, seemed impossible to me.
somehow, I found it erotic. I put my hand on the back of her seat,
her shoulder. I rested my head against the window so I had a better
view of her
face. When the bus finally pulled out, it lurched sideways, and my hand
against her bare skin. The girl turned towards me and said something in
I apologized and folded my hands in my lap. Her companion spoke to her,
from the tone of her voice, and the way she waved her hands, I could
made light of my intrusion.
tried to discern who the man was. He didn’t look old enough to be her
not young enough to be a lover. Or maybe he was?
wife patted my hand.
at this.” She pointed to her phone, whispering. “I got a text from
Maureen. It says
a lady needs to be careful when visiting Paris. You’re more than likely
your bottom pinched.”
think she means Italy.”
It’s Paris, silly. She would know. She’s been everywhere.”
knew it was Italy, but I wasn’t going to argue.
tried to relax and turned my attention to the woman in front of me. I
forward a bit, turned my nose up, and took in a deep breath. Was that
perfume I was able to smell?
are you doing?” my wife asked.
wearing perfume?” I asked, ignoring her question.
Sit back. You’re acting strange.”
it was the woman in front of me. The
bus drove on, and I should have been watching the route it took through
city. Instead of admiring the Arc De Triomphe, I stared at the back of
girl’s head, catching whatever glimpse I could sneak of her face. I
knew German, so I could understand her conversation with the man.
bus stopped at our first destination. Everyone stood to get off and I
was able to
get a view of the rest of the girl’s body. She wore powder blue shorts,
sneakers, and bobby socks to match. The hips and legs that I couldn’t
she sat, were now visible to me. My mind started thinking of
were never going to happen. We disembarked by the banks of the Seine.
and her friend boarded the boat, and I ushered my wife close behind. We
few feet away from them. Our next stop, the Eiffel Tower, was visible
The boat worked its way slowly down the river, and I took pictures of
scenery and people walking along the banks. One group danced to the
music on the
radio. Sometimes, I’d focus on something
inconspicuous, and quickly move
my camera to the young woman who was oblivious to me and snap her
instead. I silently prayed that she’d stand up so I’d get a full-length
her, and by God she did. I felt a throbbing in my loins. I snapped
knowing I would need to delete these before my wife saw them.
have some time alone with them.
girl said something to her friend, then walked towards the back of the
eyes followed, and when she went down a flight of stairs, I knew she
for the lady’s room. I told my wife I’d be right back and took pursuit.
crossed paths, maybe she’d smile at me, or even better, say something. I
say something, I thought and searched my mind for any German I might
couldn’t think of anything, and loitered outside the restrooms,
pictures of her on my phone. Somehow, I was intent on starting a
with the girl. To my chagrin, her companion came down the stairs. He
saw me and
frowned. He waited outside the lady’s room, pacing back and forth. I
awkward standing there. I figured I should pretend I’m waiting for
how do you pretend to be waiting? Then it came to me. I pulled the
door open and shouted, “You almost done in there?”
To my surprise, someone
answered, in French. I had no idea what they said. I leaned against a
buried my head in my phone. Shit, what if the guy came out? What should
To my relief, the German girl waltzed out of the lady’s room. She
looked at me,
but her friend grabbed her by the arm and led her up the stairs. He
towards me and with the edge of his lip, he sneered. I don’t think my
act fooled him. I waited a bit then went back to find my wife.
you okay?” she asked.
where we were sitting, I could see the girl talking to her friend. She
have complained of the chill in the air because he pulled a sweater out
knapsack. Instead of putting it on, she threw it over her shoulders and
the arms of the sweater under her chin.
remainder of the ride bored me. I wrestled with the poison of carnal
that filled my mind. My wife must have sensed my restlessness and took
the hand. We strolled past the couple, my eyes peeled to the ground,
the length of the boat.
boat returned to its dock, and we proceeded to the Eiffel Tower. I lost
couple in the crowd. At the top, I took pictures of the view, and we
the champagne bar. We were getting ready to leave when I saw the girl
companion on the other side of the platform. They were leaving also.
“Come on, ‘hon,” my wife said. “I’ve had enough. Let’s get online for the elevator. Did you see how long it is?"
were one of the last few people to get on. I managed to work my way to
center. A cascade of hands held onto the pole for support. I found room
mine, and so did my wife. To my surprise, the girl appeared in front of
with her back towards me, and she grabbed the pole. Her friend was in
her, staring me in the eye. The elevator moved, and everyone rocked
forth. Some kids shrieked at the movement. The girl leaned on me for a
felt her body against mine. That one second of contact was
caught her balance and stood upright. Just then, an idea came to me. I
back to the text message my wife showed me earlier. I put my free hand,
outstretched, behind the girl. No one could see my arm, waiting for the
lurching moment. When it came, I placed my palm firmly on her butt and
a good squeeze. Why should the Italians have all the fun?
Steve Bays has self-published a collection of short stories. His Facebook page is located at Steven Bays | Facebook. A short story of his, “Ten Questions for God '' was accepted for publication by The Tifferet Journal. The story published here, “It’s Paris, Silly’ has never been published before. This is his second publication. His email id is email@example.com
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