The French Connection -1

It had been a long flight from Maryland to Paris. I had come over by 'special request' of the boss.

I'd been working for this small, French company for little over two years. Coworkers had been there for five or more years, so why I got the request to come to France was beyond everyone.

I got out of the plane, got through customs and got my bags, and looked around for a man with a sign that had my name on it. It was a bit of a hassle; the airport was big and crowded, but I found him. A taxi driver who didn't speak one word of English. My French doesn't exist, but we got to the car and he knew where I had to be.

As we drove towards Paris, the man kept talking and pointing things out. The only thing I understood was Eiffel tower, which is a big thing so that's hard to miss, even during this late hour. It was brightly lit and amazing, much better than the pictures I'd seen.

I had expected to be dropped off at a hotel, but he drove into a posh neighborhood and pulled up at a big house. A villa of sorts. Everything screamed 'expensive' there.

The driver got out and talked into an intercom for a while. After a few minutes he took my luggage out, put it near the gate, and waved at me. I had to join my bags. Of course I couldn't ask him why, but I did as he pointed out. He nodded, got in and drove off.

I waited.

Several minutes later someone came walking up to the gate.

— "Mister Jeeves?" The man spoke English with a big, fat French accent.

— "That's me, indeed." I was glad he didn't crack a joke at me being related to some search engine of old. "Carl Jeeves."

— "Very good. Welcome to Maison Lafarge." He opened the gate and picked up two of my bags. I took the last one, went in, and waited for him to close the gate.

Lafarge was the boss's name and also that of the company, and it was getting big in the perfume business. I didn't do perfume, but I was good at customer support. That made it a puzzle why I had been asked to come to Paris, but I'd probably find out soon enough.

We walked down a path between huge plants, ending the trip at a magnificent house. Villa. Mansion. Whatever. This had cost millions.

The man guided me inside and left my suitcases on the marble floor in a huge hall, which was decorated with undoubtedly expensive stuff. He took a phone, made a call in French, and nodded. He then announced he'd show me to my room.

— "Room? I'm not going to be in a hotel?" I'd already suspected that, but this made things real.

— "Indeed, Mr Jeeves."

We picked up the luggage again, went up a big staircase and walked down a corridor, to a room that would be an expensive suite at a good hotel. He explained the morning routine, which was simple enough. I'd be called for wake up, join the group downstairs for breakfast, and then I'd meet the boss. Had I not been this tired, I'd have been very anxious about that.

— "Would you care for something to eat?" the man said.

— "Something to sleep would be better, " I said. "It's been a long day. Night. Whatever."

He pointed at a table with some drinks and assured me I'd find a good nightcap there.

He was right.

*

In the morning I did get called, so I used the shower that came with the room, and made my way down the stairs. A woman was waiting for me there.

— "Monsieur Jeeves?"

— "Yes, that's me."

She nodded and guided me to the dining room.

Only a few people were there, one of them of course Mr Lafarge, the big boss. He welcomed me, and shook my hand as if I was an old friend. I was seated between him and a young lady, who turned out to be his daughter Michelle. His wife, Anna, was at the table too.

— "You must wonder why you are here, Carl." The boss addressed me like an old pal too.

— "Definitely, sir."

He told me that Michelle had to learn my trade, because there was hardly any representation in Europe, and she needed to learn the tricks. He also hoped I could help her improve her English.

— "My English is jus vine, " Michelle commented on that, which told me immediately that her English was far from fine. It almost sounded like she spoke French with an English accent.

— "I do think there is some room for improvement, " I said, testing the waters. The worst thing she could do was hit me or throw her tea in my face. Instead she looked at me.

— "Are you shore?" She seemed surprised.

I assured her I was, and that I'd be glad to help her improve her pronunciation a little. Mr Lafarge followed our little conversation.

Michelle looked at me for a long time.

— "Maybe we can try, " she said in the end.

Her father said that was excellent, and after breakfast he let his daughter show me to her office, which was in another wing of the house.

All in all I couldn't complain. The room was great, the food amazing, and Michelle was definitely easy on the eyes. I estimated her in her mid twenties, but I knew better than to ask her age.

The office was impressive. Everything was modern and light. Two desks were opposite of each other, the latest in computers, chairs that cost a month's wages.

— "I sit there, " Michelle said, pointing at one of the desks. "How do I call you? Monsieur Zjeeves?"

— "Carl will be fine, and it's Jeeves, not Zjeeves."

— "That is what I said. Zjeeves."

I couldn't tell if she did that on purpose, but she agreed that Carl would do.

We got to work, for now getting used to each other, and I had to get used to this new place. After dealing with emails and all that, while glancing at Michelle as often as I could, I was ready for some coffee. Now I was in the disadvantage, because I had no idea where to get some, so I asked her.

— "Yes, we should have a break, " Michelle agreed, and got up. She leaned on her desk. "Follow me, Mr Zjeeves."

I couldn't help noticing that her blouse was unbuttoned a bit more than before. Was she granting me a look at her cleavage without knowing? That was hardly likely.

I got up and followed her out of the office, to a room opposite this one, where a big machine served her some tea, and me some coffee.

*

As I looked out the window, admiring the garden which was more like a park, I heard a click. I turned around and saw Michelle lean against the door.

— "Did you just lock the door?" I asked, because that was how it had sounded.

— "I did." She smiled and walked up to me. "Because I like you, Mr Zjeeves." This time she did do that on purpose. On the way over, she unbuttoned her blouse even more, showing her dark blue bra and the goods that were in there. "I think I like you a lot."

This was unexpected, so I asked if she wasn't mistaking me for someone else. Michelle assured me that I was exactly who she wanted.

— "I made sure that papa would ask for you, Carl. I looked at your file and your picture long enough. And I have rubbed my pussy many evenings, thinking of you." Slowly she brushed her long, brown hair over her shoulders and slipped out of the blouse.

— "Michelle, I..."

— "What?" She smiled and stood very close to me now. "I hope you like what you see, Carl. I have much more to show you." At that moment her cellphone started buzzing. "Merde!" (Later I found out that 'merde' was French for 'shit'.)

She grabbed her phone from the pocket in her skirt and spoke in French, very fast, not turning away from me, so I had a free view of everything she was offering me to look at. It was nothing to ignore, although this was still a weird situation.

Michelle spoke less frantically now, and looked at me looking at her. She reached out, took one of my hands, and put that on one of her boobs. She held my hand there as she talked to the person on the other end of the call. I couldn't ignore the feeling. Nor the bump that was developing in my pants.

The call lasted half a minute longer, then she put the phone away.

— "I am sorry for that, " she said. "It was... not that important. This is." She patted my hand. "I like that here."

I was still trying to make sense of it all, but I admitted to her that I liked it too, even when it was highly irregular. She smiled and told me that we should make this more regular.

— "We should get back to work, oui?" She lifted my hand from her boob, took off the bra and handed that to me. "Can you keep this safe for me?" She didn't wait, and turned to pick her blouse, slowly putting it on.

Before we left the coffee room, she looked at me again.

— "I want to show you something." Slowly she lifted her skirt. No panties. The skirt went down again a second later. Her eyes went down to my crotch. "Oh la la. I see you like this."

Michelle turned, took her tea, and walked out, swaying her hips a bit more than she'd done before. I sort of folded up the blue bra and shoved it into a pocket, then I walked out too.

*

The day went by without any more such 'interruptions', but the atmosphere in the shared office had definitely changed.

Mr Lafarge dropped in a few times, asking how I was doing and if things were going well, which I could confirm.

— "Good. And has Michelle done some learning yet?" he asked. I knew he meant the better English.

— "We're working on that. Slowly, " I said. "I'm not a teacher, sir, so we're figuring out the best way to do this."

He liked that answer, wished me luck, and left the office again.

Lunch was in the dining room again, this time with more people who had come in to work here, and they all wanted a chat with me, in various versions of English. That was quite an entertaining affair, and Michelle actually jumped in a few times, to help out with translating things.

At the end of the day we had some time to freshen up before dinner. I was a bit surprised that Michelle walked up the stairs with me, and turned into the same direction as I did as I walked to my suite.

Standing in front of the door, she pointed at the one right across the hall from mine.

— "This is my room, " she said, and winked. "Will you have a shower?"

— "Yes, I should, " I said, opening the door. "To wake me up. The jet lag is getting to me."

— "Of course." Michelle pushed the door open and slipped past me. "I will shower with you. To keep you awake."

— "But..." I went in and closed the door as she was already getting out of her blouse, and the skirt fell to the floor moments later.

This was my first day here, and the daughter of the CEO was standing there, in my room, entirely naked apart from her necklace and her shoes, which she kicked off.

— "Come, Carl, " she said as she walked up to me and started undoing my pants. "We don't want to be late for dinner, do we? Oh..." She had pulled my pants down and my cock had jumped up. "This is nice." She carefully wrapped her hands around it for a moment. "Do you want me to help with the rest?" she asked as she got up, standing so close to me that her nipples touched my chest. Slowly she moved my cock so it pressed against her pubic hair.

— "I think I can manage..." Knowing that this was wrong on many levels, I undressed, and then we headed into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and stepped into the cabin.

Somehow we managed to shower and make it to dinner on time...