Make Me Bad: Private Lessons (9 page)

I crack my eyes open and sunlight filters across the bed.

Not my bed.

For a split second, I forget where I am and then I remember
that I am in Luc’s apartment, in Luc’s bed.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Luc murmurs, kissing my
forehead.

“Good morning.” I yawn sleepily, “What time is it?”

“Half past ten.”

Well, that explains why I’m still tired. We didn’t go to bed
until nearly five this morning.

“Want me to make some coffee?” he asks, running a hand
through his hair. Somehow he manages to look even sexier than he did last
night. Maybe it’s disheveled hair, or his unshaven stubble. Either way, he’s
mouthwatering.

“Sure, but then I’m afraid I have to go.” I do need to get
back to my apartment, and while I’m not an expert on these types of
relationships, I certainly know enough about overstaying a welcome.

Luc looks sad for just a moment, and then nods. Then,
surprising me, he dives under the covers, his mouth grazing my inner thigh.

“Oh!” I cry out, surprised.

“Or we could just stay in bed all day…” comes his muffled
voice from under the covers.

I laugh nervously. The sensitive place between my thighs is
throbbing due to our activities last night. “I don’t think I can handle any
more of that today.” I admit, “Last night was quite the workout.”

He reappears, his eyes dark and serious.

“Are you sore?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm. I
am
sorry to hear that, although I like the
idea that you’ll be reminded of me all day.”

I gasp. “You’re bad!”

He shrugs, getting out of bed in all his glory. He saunters
out of the room, not bothering to don a stitch of clothing.

I am still not that brave, so I throw on my shirt from the
night before and slip into the bathroom. I clean myself up the best that I can
and get dressed.

I walk into the kitchen and Luc looks me over. “Leaving so
soon?”

“Cleo is going to wonder what happened to me if I'm not back
before she gets in and I'd rather avoid the interrogation.”

Since my phone has stayed silent, I’m assuming she hasn’t
realized that I had a sleepover of my own last night.

We drink our coffee quietly, and Luc’s mood seems slightly morose.
I can’t quite place my finger on it.

“Will I see you again soon?” I don’t want to sound
desperate, but I’m falling hard for Luc already.

“I’ll see you in class on Tuesday.” he says,
matter-of-factly.

“Right. Class.”

“Would you like to see me outside of class?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s talk Tuesday then.”

I have to agree, because
it is
Sunday, and I don’t
want to seem desperate. Tuesday is only two days away. Surely, I can make it
that long.

 I finish my coffee and stand up. “I should get going.” I
hesitate. “Thank you for an amazing night.”

Luc stands and pulls me to him. “Thank
you.”
He
kisses me and then releases me. “Now get out of here, before I tear your clothes
off again.”

I giggle and grab my purse, then impulsively give him
another kiss. He smiles a real, genuine smile. Then I leave his apartment
before I change my mind and stay.

I watch Madison leave, and then I can’t help but move to the
window and watch her walk out of the building. She looks beautiful walking
candidly out onto the street and I watch her until she disappears around the
corner.

I sigh and sit back down, feeling the melancholy creep over
me, prompting me to take my medicine. I wash one of my pills down with the
remnants of my coffee. It’s been nearly five months since my last depressive
episode, and two years since I’ve had a manic episode…I've always been more
prone to the depressions than the highs.

I can already feel myself needing Madison and that worries
me. I don’t want to rely on her too much, because I know that will scare her
and
that
could definitely trigger a depressive episode. I need to be
very careful with Madison for a number of reasons.

I walk back into the bedroom and see the rumpled sheets
where Madison and I spent most of the night. I walk to them, trailing my hands
along the material, remembering the way Madison felt as I slid inside her.

Fuck. I need to get out of here or else I’m going to spend
the day festering in my apartment, daydreaming of her. And that will only make
my need for her grow. I go into the bathroom to shower, and twenty minutes
later, I hit the streets.

It’s not as chilly as it has been recently and I walk for
miles and miles all over the city, not paying attention to the time. I should
make some friends while I’m here, or at least touch base with some old
acquaintances I believe may still live here.

But that takes time and energy, and I don’t feel like
exhausting either.

As if the universe has heard my thoughts, I suddenly hear a
female voice behind me.

“Jean-Luc?”

It takes me a split second before I turn around, so rarely
am I called by my full name. In fact, not many people know that Jean-Luc is my
full name.

“Yes?”

The woman behind me is clearly French; I can tell from the
way she’s dressed and the way she seems so effortlessly comfortable on the
streets. She’s about my age, and very beautiful. She looks vaguely familiar, but
I can’t place her.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

I study her again. “I’m so sorry. You look familiar but I
can’t place your face.”

She laughs. “That is fine. It has been a very long time.”

I wait for her to fill me in, and she smiles again, pushing
her dark red hair out of her pale face. “I’m Juliette. My father, Francois, and
your mother were friends.”

Yes! Juliette! I hadn’t seen her in at least ten years; not
since the last time that I had come to France with my mother. Juliette’s father
had been like a brother to my mom, and he always helped take care of her in
some way whenever we came to visit. I always believed he’d secretly been in
love with my mother, but that was neither here nor there.

“Yes!” I exclaim, “I remember now. Please forgive my
terrible memory!”

She laughs brightly. “No worries! I’m a bit of an idiot
savant when it comes to faces and names.”

“Would you like to get a cappuccino and catch-up?” I ask
politely, motioning to a small shop across the street. I don’t want to be rude
and it would be nice to catch up with Juliette. After all, I had just been
considering getting in touch with people from my past.

“Why, yes! That would be lovely!”

She follows me across the street, her stylish boots clicking
across the pavement. We duck inside, and the aroma of baking bread and
chocolate greets us.

“Mmmm.” she says inhaling, “I never tire of all the little
shops in Paris.”

“You don’t live in the city?”

“Oh no. I live an hour outside the city in Montargis, but
I’m usually in town every few weeks or so.”

I nod. We order at the counter and I pay for our things. She
thanks me, and we find a table tucked in the back of the cafe.

“So, how have you been? If memory serves me right, it’s been
at least ten years since I saw you last.” I say.

She nods, sipping her cappuccino. “Yes. It’s been about that
long.” She’s quiet for a moment. “That was the last time we saw your mother.”

I nod. My mother died the year following our last visit to
France. I wonder if she had somehow known she wasn’t going to be around much
longer. She had been adamant about us going to France to see all of her friends
and family that year—even though we had no money to do so. It was as if she had
planned her farewell trip and I'd missed all the signs.

“I got married.” I glance at her finger, but there’s no
ring. She laughs. “And divorced. I have two beautiful girls though. Sophia and
Monique. They’re eight and six. I own a jewelry boutique, which is why I come
into the city a lot. Many of my artisans and dealers are located here.” She pauses.
“I know a bit about you.” she admits, “I’ve loosely followed your career.”

Strangely, I’m flattered that this woman from my past has
paid attention to what I’ve done over the years.

“Yes, well, I’ve had some success.” I don’t want to come off
too cocky. “Aside from composing music and some recording, I’m now an adjunct
member of New York University. That’s actually what brings me to Paris. I’m an
advisor for a group of students studying abroad this semester, and teaching a
couple of classes at the NYU Paris campus.”

She smiles. “And personally?”

I suppose I can’t avoid it. “Well, like you I was married…and
divorced.”

She smiles sadly. “Children?”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t exactly call my ex-wife the maternal
type.”

“Such a shame. My girls were the best things that came out
of my marriage.”

I don’t have a response so I don’t say anything. I don’t
admit that regardless of Vera's ice-covered heart, I can’t picture myself as a
father, or that I run the risk of passing down my nasty mental illness. Somehow,
these tidbits don’t seem fit for this little chitchat.

“So, if you’re only here with your students,” Juliette
begins, coyly running her hand through her hair, “you must not have much of a
social life. How long are you in Paris?”

I shift awkwardly. Juliette is undeniably attractive, but I
think back to Madison and how much it would hurt her if she found me here now.

“I have a few friends here.” I lie, not wanting to admit
that my social activities have been filled with twenty-one year olds. “I’m here
until mid-December.”

“Ah!” she cries happily, clapping her hands together. “Then
we must get together! And perhaps you can come visit me in Montargis when my
girls are with their father. It’s a beautiful town.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

“I’ll actually be in the city again on Friday. I have a
meeting with a new designer. Should we grab lunch then?”

I don’t want to be rude and Juliette is friendly enough,
though from the way she’s trailing her lacquered fingernails along her
collarbone and playing with her hair, I’m certain she’s flirting with me. It’s
not as if Madison and I are exclusive.

“Yes, I’d love to do lunch. I teach in the morning on Friday,
so that would work out well.”

“Perfect!” She pulls a business card out of her purse, and
turns it over to the back. She scrawls the name of a restaurant and address on
it. “Here’s my card so you have my number, and on the back is an amazing little
place where we can meet. Say one o’clock?”

“One o’clock,” I confirm.

“Wonderful!” She rises. “I’m sorry to hurry out, but I need
to pick up my girls.”

“Of course.” I stand and embrace her, giving her the
requisite kiss on each cheek.

“See you Friday!” she calls, as she waves and exits the
shop.

I’m not quite sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but I watch
her walk down the street before I leave the shop.

It’s late in the afternoon now, and I make my way back to my
apartment, thinking about Juliette and her girls. I try to imagine what it
would have been like if Vera and I had children.

I shudder at the thought.

Vera would have made a terrible mother, and I’m fairly
certain, I would have made a terrible father as well.

Tuesday soon rolls around and I find myself teaching music
composition, with Madison sitting in the second row. She listens attentively
and whenever I look in her direction she smiles brightly at me. Cleo is
slightly less interested, and I can’t help wondering what, if anything, Madison
has said about us.

The class ends and Madison says goodbye to Cleo. When it’s
just the two of us left, we make our way across the hall to the smaller
classroom where we hold her private lesson.