This is my latest short story in English. For a better understanding, I suggest that you listen to the song included in the following link in its entirety: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jilLMsOvGsE. I hope you enjoy the story.
Este es mi nuevo cuento en inglés. Para un mejor entendimiento, sugiero que escuchen de manera completa la canción incluida en este enlace: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jilLMsOvGsE. Espero que disfruten el cuento.
SEX AU LAIT
National Airlines were well proud of the numerous titles consecrating them as the best airline in the business. Their service was always the finest. The Business Class seats were heavenly, so was the cuisine. Their economy class was the most comfortable one of all. However, what they were most proud of, was their new Suites class, exclusive, available only on A380 flights. If a passenger were to fly on the Suites class, it meant that he would be provided a comfortable seat, a pyjama and an amenity kit from Givenchy, countless hours of in-flight entertainment, and most importantly, for the first time in the history of airline flying, an incredible, big, well-made, built-in bed, not the one usually formed by the seat, which was never really a bed and was always uncomfortable. Yes, one would think the airline had it all. But on this particular evening’s flight, they were in for the most unexpected of surprises.
It was the 11:30 pm flight from Bangkok to Paris, usually a flight to sleep on. But there were two passengers who weren’t sleepy at all. Their names were Genevieve and Paul. They had never met before, yet by the end of the flight, nothing would separate them.
Paul was an American in his mid-forties, Genevieve, a Parisian in her twenties. Paul was a writer, who had been seeking inspiration for his latest novel in the Asian continent, where it would have been set. A long trip to Thailand, China, Singapore and Japan had proven unsuccessful in that matter. Hopeless, Paul – a long-time resident of the French capital – decided to return, yet he was scared to do so. His first novel, published four years earlier, had been a major critical and commercial happening. At the time of its publishing, he thought he was the luckiest author in the world. But now he hated the damned book and had good reasons to do so: the money earned from it was taken by his ex-wife in the process of divorce (if you thought he was flying on the Suites class on his own expenses, you were wrong as a friend had loaned him all the money needed for the trip), and now he had to write a book that was just as good if not better than the previous one. He hated his first novel and was already beginning to loathe the idea of having to come up with a second one. Though much younger, Genevieve had similar problems.
A French actress who became a famous star at the age of fifteen, Genevieve was now entering her tenth year of celebrity. Discovered in a local theatre by a prestigious filmmaker, she was soon employed in a film that would catapult her to stardom. Marion et Jeanette, as the film was called, was the controversial story of a sexual affair between two female teenagers, the blonde and attractive one played by Genevieve, and the not-so-pretty one played by her co-star. For critics, it was the highlight of the year. For conservative audiences, it was a pitiful sight. Nevertheless, it made Genevieve a sex symbol. But recently, Genevieve decided that it was time to expand her artistic horizons and she decided to give directing a try. She went to Bangkok to shoot the film that most critics were curious about, her directorial debut. And when she boarded the plane back to Paris, she was regretting the fact that she had even thought about directing. She knew the film was going to be a disaster. The script read well, but it didn’t have as much success when it came to having actors play it out. The story also featured a female fifteen-year-old character as its lead. When the time to shoot came, the actress playing the role found herself surrendered to the consecuences of Thai food in a European stomach. The studio wouldn’t push back production, and so, in desperation, Genevieve decided to play the role herself as a way to save the film from not being made at all, even though she knew that, regardless of any makeup, she would never look fifteen (she was now twenty-eight), and therefore, critics would trash the film instantly, viewing the film as a commercial vehicle and not as a serious attempt at filmmaking. She now had to expect a few more years as a sex symbol before being considered a significant artist. Genevieve wanted to leave Bangkok as a product of her unpleasant experience, yet the last thing she wanted to do was to get off the plane in Paris, where no fame, no status of any kind could protect her from the thrashing she was about to receive.
Genevieve was the first passenger to board the flight, as she did not want to make any kind of fuss. Paul was the last one. As a matter of fact, he delayed the flight’s takeoff. But punctuality was never one of his virtues. He was now about to fail the third deadline for his novel, and the previous one was published one year after its original publishing date. One of the things his ex-wife hated about him was his tardiness to any kind of appointment. Therefore, it was only normal for him to be late tonight. When he finally did arrive, most passengers stared at him resentfully. Most…except one. Genevieve seemed to be the only one who knew who the late man was. She had read Paul’s first novel and some of his short stories, and she considered herself a fan. Paul had also seen Genevieve’s work but hated most of it, except for that first film. Yet he only liked it because he was a follower of the director, not of Genevieve. However, tonight, when he saw her in the suite next to his, he felt attracted to her. Maybe it was because of the fact that he had also heard about her hopeless attempt at directing that he felt some kind of identification with her, some kind of compassion, for he had now seen that both she and himself were humans, in his opinion, the most imperfect species of all. But he also happened to consider humans the most attractive species, the most curious one and definitely the most mysterious one.
They both decided to slip into their pyjamas early, about ten minutes after takeoff. She went into the lavatory about two minutes before he did. However, she forgot to indicate that the lavatory was OCCUPIED as opposed to VACANT, and so, when Paul opened the door, he found himself surrounded by an image that would never escape his mind: Genevieve, naked and frankly, beautiful. No makeup, just that simple face, augmented by the long, smooth and blonde hair. ¿Height? No more than one metre and eighty centimetres. Slight, suggesting curves. Beautiful blue eyes. And those lips. Paul was entranced by what he saw. But Genevieve was in awe of the situation. For she was a fan of Paul but had never appreciated him physically. And he was quite the looker, in her opinion. Tall, as she loved her men. Brown, short hair. Sharp green eyes which seemed to intimidate and attract her simultaneously. And that moustache that she so loved. It was now clear that they both loved what they were seeing. The scene, which was seconds long, felt pleasantly longer. But it was not to last very long of course. A stewardess of whose presence they were not aware interrupted the moment by taking out the drinks’ cart and bumping into Paul, and somehow, bumping him back into reality.
Paul went back to his suite (strategically placed right next to Genevieve’s), and when Genevieve came back in her pyjamas, he couldn’t resist the urge and decided to talk to her. But what to say after such a situation? How to break the ice verbally, given that it had already been broken in other ways? He finally decided that movies would be the topic. The in-flight entertainment system had one of her films on it, and he decided to watch intentionally, to draw her attention. When she saw herself on the screen, he would perceive it and he would begin to talk. That was exactly what happened. The film began with a scene of Genevieve’s character crying, and when he noticed that she was looking at it, he turned to her:
- You’re beautiful. Be it in this scene or as I saw you in the bathroom.
- Oh, yes…I’m sorry for that.
- Don’t be. I’m the one who has to be sorry.
- For what?
- For barging in on you, Genevieve.
- How do you know my name?
- The film’s credits state that Genevieve Louissier plays the crying woman. When I saw the crying woman, it was confirmed to me that there is only one Genevieve Louissier, the one who is in the suite next to me.
- Thank you, you’re very sweet. I know who you are too, Paul.
- Oh, really?
- Yes. I’m a big fan of your work, especially your novel. Well, the one that was published. How’s the new one coming along? Did you get that asian inspiration you were looking for?
- Not at all. I came to Asia looking for inspiration and I got writer’s block. Ironic, huh? Anyways, an actress looking to direct is always more interesting than a writer. How did your director’s film go? Did you get it made?
- Yes, but barely. My lead fifteen year-old ended up in the hospital and I had to fill in for her, but we both know that I don’t stand a chance at looking her age.
- Actually, from what I saw in the bathroom, I would say you do.
- Really? Well, if a writer says it, I’m interested to hear why.
Genevieve didn’t need to hear it. Paul’s explanation came directly from his mouth and tongue. He couldn’t resist it so he walked straight to her suite, slammed the door and kissed her. For about three seconds Genevieve thought of hitting him, but after that, she gave in. What began as a passionate little kiss was immediately turning into something else. Almost unconsciously, Genevieve reached for the DO NOT DISTURB sign and turned it on. Before things could get uncomfortable, Genevieve stopped Paul and took off her clothes. Paul, knowing what was to follow, did the same. Things were now getting erotic, sensual and slightly dark. A little more kissing and making out followed before Paul finally decided to reach into Genevieve’s inner circle. And when he did, they both felt spellbound, somehow frozen, not wanting it to end. By the time he had come full circle, so did she. However, the entire plane could hear her passionate screams. And when Paul perceived the possibility of a stewardess coming to the suite, they both jumped back into their pyjamas, Paul sat on the seat in front of the bed and grabbed a book so that he could pretend he was reading it, and Genevieve immediately grabbed her laptop and put on a loud sex scene from her newly shot film. The stewardess walked in:
- Is there a problem, Ms. Louissier?
- No, not at all.
- Ok…the other passengers are complaining. Could you put on headphones so that you don’t interrupt them?
- Yes, sure.
- And Mr. Walker, the seatbelt sign is on so we need you to return to your seat, please.
- All right.
The stewardess walked out. It became clear that she didn’t care whether Paul returned to his seat or not, as she had not escorted him there. But how to put headphones on the situation that had just happened? It really didn’t seem to matter that much after a while, for they had broken the ice in the best way possible. Now they could talk without any kind of inhibition.
- So why are you going back to Paris?A
- To be a dead man in my editor’s eyes.
- Oh, you won’t. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Someone like you is always productive.
- I don’t think so. On the other hand, I’m sure someone like you is enough to give the film what it needs.
- But I’m tired of being the sexy girl who makes the film commercial.
- I know what you mean. Some people put me in the same league as Dan Brown,
- Oh, but you’re much better.
- I don’t know if I’m better, worse or whatever, what I do know is that he writes commercial books. I don’t go for that, even if my last novel was a best-seller.
- Well, we both have a problem, I guess.
But talking wouldn’t do the job. It was clear that sex would always be in the air for them, for good or worse. Finally, Paul broke the ice once again and kissed her. She followed. But this time it was smoother, softer and a little quieter. As Paul went through the whole process, there was music in his mind. One particular song: Au Lait by the Pat Metheny Group. Genevieve reminded him of the soft music, abstract, yet passionate. He would think of the climax of the song as their whole act reached its own. Au Lait didn’t have any lyrics except for a few spoken ad-libs, but it was clear that the whole piece was about sex. The song grabbed him so much, that he suddenly found himself muttering percussionist Nana Vasconcelos’s ad-libs:
- Ah, meu amor, eu te quero tanto, tanto … Você é linda.
- What?
At that moment, Paul realized just how entranced he was.
- You remind of this song with ad-libs in portuguese. It is called Au Latí.
- Who does it?
- The Pat Metheny Group.
- And what do those ad-libs say?
- They say what I feel here, tonight, with you. My love, I love you so, so much. You’re beautiful.
- Thank you.
The kissing continued. The DO NOT DISTURB sign was on. It had been two hours since the stewardess interrupted them. Everyone else was probably asleep. It was time for them to continue what they had stopped. This time, nobody came around.
. . . . . .
As they waited for their luggage at the Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris, they both spoke.
- Paul, why did you associate our little act with a song called Au Lait ?
- I guess that’s because it probably has something to do with Café au lait?
- What do you mean?
- Well if you listen to that song, it is indulgent, deep, yet with a certain sweetness on top. And I think that was also us last night.
- That’s probably the most interesting statement about sex I’ve ever heard.
In fact, Paul’s statement stayed with her forever. After that, they never met again. But since then, every time Genevieve boarded an airplane, she could only think of three things: Paul, sex and café au lait.
Copyright 2012 Emilio Sánchez Enterprises Inc.
