Monsieur Mercedes

Strutting along in my most American outfit to date, t-shirt, tennis shoes and jeans and wearing really great Roberto Cavelli sunglasses (accoutrements are de riguer here) I was on my way to my friend's house for a mobile phone battery. Crossing the wide open Place des Invalides, a ginormous black Mercedes did a 180 and pulled up to me and rolled down the window. A good looking french man began to speak to me asking if i was from here, could i tell him where a certain cafe was. I was completely caught off guard by his charming smile and let's face it the brand new Mercedes. After talking for 5 minutes he asked if i was free in the evening. Bien sur. Would i want to get together later on for a drink? Maybe--i mean yes. Luckily i had some brain cells firing as i refused to get into the car with him but agreed to take his telephone number. A few hours later i decided to call. What the heck? Meet someplace public. Another opportunity to practice french.

No answer. I left a message. He called back about a half hour later and after a series of phone calls we agreed to meet nearby where i lived. He was going to a party at a club near the Louvre and wanted us to go together. How sweet. Could this man really be this charming, this interesting? He lived in Nice and visions of summers on the Riveria began dancing through my head. Wear something cute and sexy was his text. Huh?

Finally we met at a cafe prior to our party rendezvous. We were going to a "couples" club. There to meet his buddy and his buddy's new Ukranian "girlfriend" for some foursome fun. "You like girls?" What? Fortunately we were at a very public cafe, having a very public drink. It took two seconds to understand what he wanted and two more seconds for me to know what i didn't want. He was very casual. "Oh you are charge. We can just look. We don't have to go. Blah, blah, blah." We met at eleven and i was home and safely tucked in bed before the carriage had time to turn into a pumpkin. Just a another petite adventure in Paris.