RENÉE PRIDEUX - LOUNGE BAR<br/><br/>It was a warm sunny spring Saturday morning. I had arisen at nine to a breakfast of fruits, yoghurt and a two-egg omelette served by Francois, my yacht's chef cum waiter cum general hottie. It was rather silly, my husband Artur, the dear sweet thing, had offered to pay a full rate charter for the boat for twelve months which included retaining the captain and the engineer even though I only used the thing as a floating bedroom and a place to hold parties. Jean Thouars, the captain I never saw, I merely e-mailed him on the Sunday evening of each week to advise him I would not need him at work the next morning. I had set my computer to auto-email the same message at the same time each week, my routine never varied.<em>Pfft</em>, I assume he went off to crew other yachts or teach kids to jet-ski or something. Antoine, the engineer did at least visit once or twice a week to run his eye over the hull and the machinery and poke about in various corners to, I assume, make sure we weren't sinking. He would turn up some afternoons and run the diesels for a couple of hours which supplemented the batteries and the land-line power links and once every two weeks he would cast off and chug around the marina and go a few miles offshore and back just to run the necessary checks. On the radar thingy I think. I'm no fan of sailing. It doesn't disagree with me physically but my interests lie ashore. I always go into town at such times.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/ReneePrideux_10.jpg)</div>Today after breakfast I went up the hill to Sainte Devote where there are a couple of nice boutiques I know. A little shopping, a new hat, some underwear, a little chat here and there with some ladies I know and by lunchtime I felt in need of a break. I made my way towards the Casino and around the square to the small white limestone and red-roofed building that sits on the far side of Casino Square, tucked back like some modestly sized old merchant's house or perhaps an old hotel now a little run down and converted to halls of residence for students at La Morsonne. But no, behind the sleepy façade lay a whole new world, a world I had discovered just six months ago and to which I was drawn more and more.<br/><br/>I went up the stairs and the smart security guard within politely requested my membership card which I equally politely presented. He knew me by name and I knew him, but every single person was checked, even if Prince Rainier himself had been a member, he would be asked to show his card. The security here is serious. It is mostly invisible but it is always present and all doors other than this one are always kept locked. The residents' entrance requires a digital signature to be overlaid on the membership card plus a keypad code so even if you lose your card and some undesirable person picks it up they could not gain entry.<br/><br/>Passing through the security vestibule past potted plants and into the restful interior with it's subdued but artsy décor and cool marble floor and pillars, I walked up to the reception desk and signed in, time and date of arrival. I would sign out on departure also, failure to do so invoked a fine.<br/><br/><strong>"Hello Michelle, how are you? Well I hope? Any messages for me?"</strong><br/><br/>Michelle smiled and advised me she was in excellent health, thank you. She enquired after my own well being and after checking the racks of pigeon holes on the duty office wall behind her turned to smile and shake her head.<br/><br/><strong>"Ah, a pity. No marriage proposal from Monsieur Marc then? I will continue to live in hope."</strong><br/><br/>Michelle smiled at my joke and stood there looking efficient and pretty. I bid her good day and turned right to enter the lounge bar. A few members were around but it was quiet - still early. The fun would begin later at dinner and then afterwards, although afternoons around the pool could get quite interesting here too. I put down my bag and my purchases and did not even need to lift a hand before Raul came over smiling like an Algerian taxi-driver who spies a pasty-skinned fresh tourist. I'm sure he was nothing like that and his intentions were always honourable, but his wide cheesy smile always made me think he'd still wear it while slitting your throat and giving all your money to his Nigerian scammer friends.<br/><br/>"Bonjour! Madame Prideux! Such an honour once more! You are well I trust?" Here we went, pouring on the false bonhomie. I smiled pleasantly in return, made small talk and ordered a mineral water with a slice of lemon.<br/><br/>Sipping my drink I tinkled the ice in my glass. Looking around the room I saw both Laurenne and William. I lifted my glass to both. They were not sitting together but I moved towards Laurenne and made some 'do please join us' gestures towards the Canadian with my hand.<br/><br/>I bent down, smiling to kiss Laurenne on each cheek, a polite and very French air-kiss and the slightest touch of cheek-to-cheek.<br/><br/><strong>"Hello my darling, so nice to see you here. Are you taking lunch? And William! How are you, it seems weeks since we last bumped into each other... we were sharing that hot little Dachsund if I remember. Did you rent her out the next day as you said or had you over-abused the poor thing?"</strong><br/><br/>I took a seat, put my glass down and with a hand waved Raul back over to ask for three menus.