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<b><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Paris, 1962</span></b><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><br/>
He said he imposed on her like she hadn't had as much a hand in this doing as he had. Like she hadn't been the one to suggest they leave or the one leading him down the street. It was sweet she supposed. Maybe he thought he was preserving her integrity for her in the comment. She almost wanted to laugh; she wasn’t sure she had any anymore. She wasn’t sure she cared either. She wouldn’t ruin it for him though, she was nice enough to give him that in this exchange. She did feel a little bad knowing she was probably just using him for her own selfish ends when he had so much sincerity in him - too much really.<br/>
<br/>
She liked him still and smiled over her shoulder when she caught him watching, she didn’t mind. If felt a little like the way lovers catch eyes and smile as they both perform the nightly motions of preparing for bed. She did mind that bit. Her only real lover was a ghost but they didn’t catch eyes or smile only started with all-consuming intensity. <br/>
<br/>
 “I have two bottles of Merlot but it’s cheap,”  She said, turning away. Cheap wine in France was still better than cheap wine most anywhere else. Also better than no wine at all. She had made her way into the kitchen which was really only a measly few feet away from where he was still technically in the living room. She stood on her toes to open a cupboard above her head, silk hem inching up her thighs in the movement. It settled again when she was setting down a bottle and two glasses on the counter in front of her. <br/>
<br/>
She was looking for something to open it with when he came over. She had paused her search and turned so elbows rested on the counter too, nose crinkling at the way he played with her hair. Her head tilted into his hand, instinctively knowing which way it was going. She’d forgotten about his name by then. She had already decided she didn’t want to know it but he told her anyway. She would have frowned if his lips didn’t find hers first. She’d forget it again in the kiss if she could help it. She was at least better prepared for it this time and it lasted longer than a few seconds.. Her back straightened and one arm slithered up around his neck. He tasted exactly the way she thought he would, she had discovered when her lips parted and she drew her tongue across his lower lip or maybe she could just taste the gin on her own lips still. </span></div>