*
The next evening, over dinner at A La Petite Chaise, for which Leon used his entire week’s food allowance, she told him her idea. To create good quality fashion, inspired by the latest trends on the runways, and turning it over quickly so the shopper would always come back for more. Leon was enthralled; it was an excellent idea. Still, she would need an enormous amount of cash to start her business and making it in America would add a lot more cost.
Leon in turn fabricated his life, telling her he was from a noble family, his father a fashion designer in Spain, and he due to inherit the family business. He didn’t need to work but he chose to, he said, as a creative outlet.
Birdie seemed enthralled. She was naïve about many things and he wondered if she was still a virgin. He would be pleased to find out but he knew not to rush her.
Leon knew everything there was to know about fashion and wine and he spoke English, French, Italian and Spanish, which Birdie told him personified her idea of a European gentleman. Dinner turned into lunches and coffees after the shows which Birdie insisted on paying for to prove her independence, he thought. Leon never sought her out, instead he let her set the pace, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was interested in him. Not revealing his hotel to her, as that would alert her to his modest budget, Leon always conveniently bumped into her after the shows or before. Or he would pick her up from her hotel and they would walk the streets of Paris, commenting on the passing street fashion that Birdie was so passionate about.
Towards the end of the week, Leon had not even held Birdie’s hand. The attraction was strong between them. Leon was fascinated about her upbringing; the way she spoke of her family and the houses they had, her horses and her reticence to marry the man her parents had picked for her, from another Georgia family. Her ease with her wealth, her kindness to everyone – including rude French waiters – only proved her innocence.
On the last evening in Paris, Leon had promised Birdie he would take her out on the town again. Down to his last $50, he was panicking about how he would pay for the meal. He’d decided to complain of stomach illness before they set off for the restaurant. When he arrived at the Hotel Athenée, the concierge rang Birdie’s room.
‘Mademoiselle Blackwood would like you to go up to her room, Monsieur de Santoval. The prestige suite on the fifth floor,’ said the concierge with a knowing look in his eye.
Having stood at the desk for the past 15 years, he knew the comings and goings of his guests before they did. He had watched Leon woo Birdie this past week and knew he was a man on the make. He didn’t judge him – what the hell, you had to get ahead any way you could.
Leon nodded, ignoring the look on the concierge’s face he went upstairs to Birdie’s suite. Standing outside the door, Leon took a deep breath. He had risked a lot this week on Birdie but he hoped his instincts were right. He knocked on the door.
Birdie opened it almost immediately. She was dressed in a simple black silk shift dress, no stockings and simple flat shoes. Her long hair was out and she was not wearing an ounce of makeup. She looked tall, almost as tall as Leon, he thought, as she stood in front of him.
‘I thought we could dine in tonight, my treat. You have been showering me with divine French food all week,’ she said, blushing.
If Leon was capable of love, then the relief he felt when she announced her plan was close to it. He swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately.
Birdie melted into his strong arms. Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed and laid her down. ‘Birdie, you’re so beautiful,’ he said as he looked down upon her.
Birdie smiled at him angelically. ‘Make love to me.’
She met his passion again and, as they tore off each other’s clothes, Leon’s erection was ready for her. She looked down; her eyes widened at the sight of his large penis. Then she pulled him down and gasped as he entered her. Leon didn’t notice her reaction, only feeling the warm tightness around his cock. Plunging in and out, he didn’t look for her reaction, instead pleasuring himself and rubbing his face against her small breasts.
Leon used her body swiftly and efficiently, throwing back his head and almost howling with delight as he came.
He rolled off her and lay panting, his chest hairs wet from sweat. Leon tried to catch his breath. ‘That was wonderful, mi pájaro.’
Birdie smiled. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means my bird,’ he said as he kissed the tip of her nose.
Birdie smiled.
They were married in Georgia seven weeks later.
2
Violetta had woken with a start. She looked at the small Victorian carriage clock beside her bed. One o’clock, it read. Nine hours sleep. Not too bad, she thought, and she stretched under the French linen.
Last night had been a blast. Dinner at Le Bernadin, dancing at the new club that wasn’t open to anyone without a trust fund or a Wikipage, and then home with a B list reality star, who she remembered leaving after a few hours of acrobatic sex. Not that Violetta was concerned that he had left without a forwarding number or note.
She reached for the glass of water by her bed, wanting to rid her mouth of the taste of cocaine and cigarettes. As she put the glass down she looked at her phone. Four missed calls from her mother’s house and two from Adam, the producer of her new reality series,Socialites in the City.Her mother Birdie had no doubt read about it inPage Sixand was now ringing to express her displeasure. Violetta ignored the messages from her and instead called Adam.
‘Hey there.’
‘Hey, Vi.’
She winced, she hated being called Vi but she didn’t say anything. Adam was the biggest reality producer in Hollywood and there was no way she was going to piss him off. He had only considered that she was included after one of her fellow socialites had become engaged and Adam had fired her from the show.
‘Marriage is boring,’ Adam had declared loudly at Le Bernadin where she had met him for her last minute interview. ‘Nobody wants to watch a fucking TV show about married people.’
