Paris had a few things going for it. One was the nightlife, the other was the women. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate American women. There was nothing like a California girl - blonde, tanned, and wearing nothing but a bikini - but French women had their own charms, and it didn't start or end with the accent. That wasn't why he was there, though. The trip had been strictly for business purposes, but now that business had been concluded, it was time for a little pleasure. The hotel bar had proved a good place to start.
There wasn't a lot of action going on, but it was a good place to enjoy a few drinks and enjoy the view. He was as unassuming as he could be, looking more like a tourist or a businessman than what he really was. He was dressed mostly in black, except for the jeans - black leather jacket, black sweater, black shoes. Handsome enough to draw the right attention, but not flashy enough to draw too much of it. The first drink had gone down smooth and quick, but he was patiently nursing the second.
It was certainly a good place to observe the various people who made use of the bar, from the business men and women, to the young couples, to the groups who were ut for a little nightlife. As he sat there, nursing his second drink of the evening, a young woman made her way over to the bar, clutching a phrasebook in her hands. Her hair was vibrant red, and her general appearance tended toward what some would call "kooky". She waited nervously for the tender to notice her, and made a creditable attempt at ordering a drink, much to the tender's amusement.
"Oh, um ....excusee mwoir, un purdeet veer duh vin blank, silver plate?"
He couldn't help but notice her, especially with all that red hair, but what drew his attention further was the horribly botched French. Ah, well ....not everyone was multilingual, after all, and while he was hoping to catch the eye of a Parisian beauty, he couldn't help but smile a little at her accent, wondering if he should rescue her or enjoy the rest of the show.
The answer the bartender gave her was evidently far too fast to follow for her, but it was clearly a comment on how appalling it was that a woman should be alone of an evening. The tender smiled at the blank expression he got in response, pouring out a chilled glass of house white for the tourist in front of him.
"Vingt quatre euros, mademoiselle, s'il vous plait."
The redheaded woman blinked for a moment. "Um ....vang cats," she repeated, riffling through the pages of her book. She set her purse on the bar and, giving up on the translation, opened it to offer him the contents.
The tender, noting the naivete with a slightly predatory look, removed a fifty Euro note, and gave her back a ten Euro note with a handful of very small change.
The bearded man seated at the bar sipping his whiskey reached out to snatch the ten Euros from the tender's hand, muttering something quietly in perfectly rendered French that warned the man to give the lady the correct change. Naive tourist or not, she didn't deserve to be ripped off by a predatory bartender.
The woman jumped at the sudden movement from the man sitting at the bar, her eyes wide as she looked at him. The French passed so quickly from one to the other that she didn't have a hope of following it, but the way the bartender scowled and added a twenty to the ten suggested what had happened. Blushing at her gullibility, she nodded her thanks to the bartender, gathering her change and purse back into her bag, and ventured a smile toward her hero. "Um ....mercy, mon-sewer."
And the stranger even allowed the bartender to keep a small tip, too, so he shouldn't have anything to complain about. He didn't want to laugh at her, but he couldn't help but chuckle a little at the terrible accent. "You're welcome," he replied in perfect English, with a northeastern American accent.
"Oh, you're American!" she exclaimed, relief and delight coloring her expression as she giggled. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was gonna have to pretend I could understand you. That is ..." She blushed, biting her lip as she looked down at her drink. "Thank you. I-I think I'm a pretty easy mark for getting ripped off here."
"Most people here understand English, even if they don't want to speak it," he informed her. "First trip to Paris?" he asked, mildly curious. Though she wasn't French, she was easy on the eyes. Maybe the evening wouldn't turn out to be a complete waste, after all.
"That obvious, huh?" She laughed, taking a sip of her wine. "May I join you? Oh ....I'm Sarah, by the way." She offered him her hand, her bright smile managing to convey relief and pleasure at having met someone from home, relatively speaking, as well as hope that he wasn't going to say no.
"Feel free," he replied, trying not to look too desperate or eager for company, of which he was neither. He switched his glass from his right to his left hand before taking her hand in his. "Pleasure. I'm Jason," he said with a friendly smile.
"Thank you." Wriggling onto the stool beside him, she smiled once again. "It's nice to meet you, Jason. Do people really understand me here" I've been waving that damned phrasebook around all day like a complete idiot."
"Most do. I'm sure they appreciate the effort, but French isn't the easiest language to master," he told her, though she probably knew that already. He didn't want to insult her, but her pronunciation was deplorable. "Where are you from?" he asked, before holding up a hand. "Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess." He paused for about half a second before adding, "Boston?"
"I probably should have taken a class before I came," she admitted, blinking in surprise as he pinpointed her accent. "Uh, yeah. That's pretty cool, how'd you guess" My turn to guess ....you're a language professor." Her smile had turned teasing as she spoke, clearly only too happy to latch onto someone who spoke the same language she did.
He chuckled. Her guess was not even close to what he really was, but today, he was playing pretend. "Business consultant," he replied, with an almost apologetic look on his face that she'd guessed wrong. "Boring, I know, but it pays the bills."
"What sort of business do you consult on?" she asked, though it really was a hold-all question. After all, what else could she ask about' "Computers or something?"
"Security," he replied, without hesitation. "It's all pretty boring really. What about you? Business or pleasure and if it's the latter, why's a pretty girl like you traveling alone?" he asked, taking a sip of his whiskey while he awaited her reply.
"Wow," she said, more than a hint of flirtation in the way she looked him over. "I guess you're more muscled than padded under there, huh?" Giggling to herself, she sipped her wine, her smile fading at his question. "Pleasure, I guess," she shrugged. "It was supposed to be a romantic weekend, but I caught him up to his balls in my sister, so I cashed in his ticket and came by myself."
There wasn't a lot of action going on, but it was a good place to enjoy a few drinks and enjoy the view. He was as unassuming as he could be, looking more like a tourist or a businessman than what he really was. He was dressed mostly in black, except for the jeans - black leather jacket, black sweater, black shoes. Handsome enough to draw the right attention, but not flashy enough to draw too much of it. The first drink had gone down smooth and quick, but he was patiently nursing the second.
It was certainly a good place to observe the various people who made use of the bar, from the business men and women, to the young couples, to the groups who were ut for a little nightlife. As he sat there, nursing his second drink of the evening, a young woman made her way over to the bar, clutching a phrasebook in her hands. Her hair was vibrant red, and her general appearance tended toward what some would call "kooky". She waited nervously for the tender to notice her, and made a creditable attempt at ordering a drink, much to the tender's amusement.
"Oh, um ....excusee mwoir, un purdeet veer duh vin blank, silver plate?"
He couldn't help but notice her, especially with all that red hair, but what drew his attention further was the horribly botched French. Ah, well ....not everyone was multilingual, after all, and while he was hoping to catch the eye of a Parisian beauty, he couldn't help but smile a little at her accent, wondering if he should rescue her or enjoy the rest of the show.
The answer the bartender gave her was evidently far too fast to follow for her, but it was clearly a comment on how appalling it was that a woman should be alone of an evening. The tender smiled at the blank expression he got in response, pouring out a chilled glass of house white for the tourist in front of him.
"Vingt quatre euros, mademoiselle, s'il vous plait."
The redheaded woman blinked for a moment. "Um ....vang cats," she repeated, riffling through the pages of her book. She set her purse on the bar and, giving up on the translation, opened it to offer him the contents.
The tender, noting the naivete with a slightly predatory look, removed a fifty Euro note, and gave her back a ten Euro note with a handful of very small change.
The bearded man seated at the bar sipping his whiskey reached out to snatch the ten Euros from the tender's hand, muttering something quietly in perfectly rendered French that warned the man to give the lady the correct change. Naive tourist or not, she didn't deserve to be ripped off by a predatory bartender.
The woman jumped at the sudden movement from the man sitting at the bar, her eyes wide as she looked at him. The French passed so quickly from one to the other that she didn't have a hope of following it, but the way the bartender scowled and added a twenty to the ten suggested what had happened. Blushing at her gullibility, she nodded her thanks to the bartender, gathering her change and purse back into her bag, and ventured a smile toward her hero. "Um ....mercy, mon-sewer."
And the stranger even allowed the bartender to keep a small tip, too, so he shouldn't have anything to complain about. He didn't want to laugh at her, but he couldn't help but chuckle a little at the terrible accent. "You're welcome," he replied in perfect English, with a northeastern American accent.
"Oh, you're American!" she exclaimed, relief and delight coloring her expression as she giggled. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was gonna have to pretend I could understand you. That is ..." She blushed, biting her lip as she looked down at her drink. "Thank you. I-I think I'm a pretty easy mark for getting ripped off here."
"Most people here understand English, even if they don't want to speak it," he informed her. "First trip to Paris?" he asked, mildly curious. Though she wasn't French, she was easy on the eyes. Maybe the evening wouldn't turn out to be a complete waste, after all.
"That obvious, huh?" She laughed, taking a sip of her wine. "May I join you? Oh ....I'm Sarah, by the way." She offered him her hand, her bright smile managing to convey relief and pleasure at having met someone from home, relatively speaking, as well as hope that he wasn't going to say no.
"Feel free," he replied, trying not to look too desperate or eager for company, of which he was neither. He switched his glass from his right to his left hand before taking her hand in his. "Pleasure. I'm Jason," he said with a friendly smile.
"Thank you." Wriggling onto the stool beside him, she smiled once again. "It's nice to meet you, Jason. Do people really understand me here" I've been waving that damned phrasebook around all day like a complete idiot."
"Most do. I'm sure they appreciate the effort, but French isn't the easiest language to master," he told her, though she probably knew that already. He didn't want to insult her, but her pronunciation was deplorable. "Where are you from?" he asked, before holding up a hand. "Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess." He paused for about half a second before adding, "Boston?"
"I probably should have taken a class before I came," she admitted, blinking in surprise as he pinpointed her accent. "Uh, yeah. That's pretty cool, how'd you guess" My turn to guess ....you're a language professor." Her smile had turned teasing as she spoke, clearly only too happy to latch onto someone who spoke the same language she did.
He chuckled. Her guess was not even close to what he really was, but today, he was playing pretend. "Business consultant," he replied, with an almost apologetic look on his face that she'd guessed wrong. "Boring, I know, but it pays the bills."
"What sort of business do you consult on?" she asked, though it really was a hold-all question. After all, what else could she ask about' "Computers or something?"
"Security," he replied, without hesitation. "It's all pretty boring really. What about you? Business or pleasure and if it's the latter, why's a pretty girl like you traveling alone?" he asked, taking a sip of his whiskey while he awaited her reply.
"Wow," she said, more than a hint of flirtation in the way she looked him over. "I guess you're more muscled than padded under there, huh?" Giggling to herself, she sipped her wine, her smile fading at his question. "Pleasure, I guess," she shrugged. "It was supposed to be a romantic weekend, but I caught him up to his balls in my sister, so I cashed in his ticket and came by myself."