From Paris With Love.
Mama,
I am fine and I must write in a rush. There is a story I’ve wanted to tell and I’m quite sure it will be safe with you.
There is a particular woman who comes into my simple restaurant, you remember the one? Le Chateau Blue? and provides material for my other profession. The one I haven’t truly told you about for fear of what you might say. She has been in for four months now but all there is to tell about her are her romantic adventures.
She eats in such an interesting manner, I think she is a passionate lover. Of course the war has just ended, and we are slowly coming out of rationing but she makes me risk the black market to get her these delicacies and see her taste buds orgasm. Is that too inappropriate, Ma? You said I shouldn’t leave anything out.
The preparation she takes is astounding. She always dresses in her best for her simple meals, adorned with beautiful jewellery and the loveliest perfume and sometimes carries a candle that I allow her to light. She has her own reserved table now.
She is very particular, and once said in passing she doesn’t just take anyone to her sacred chamber. She means her mouth of course but she has such a beautiful affair with food that I rewrite every word, every movement as though it is with a real man. An affair she engages in with all her senses. She eyes the plate from my little counter till it is lain before her and then her eyes feast upon it before her tongue can pass a verdict on it. Looking at her, Mama, I think I can understand why some reference intimate moments with food, you know those lines; lips like honey, skin like chocolate or milk, whispering sweet nothings that float down like wine...and so on.
She turns the plate around in marvel of the splendour before her, almost as though undressing it, layer by layer...or undressing herself in anticipation of the most intimate of acts. The devouring! She makes a simple cook feel like the Queen’s chef. She savours every bite like a lingering kiss. When she has that first kiss, I mean bite, I can tell whether she will love the dalliance. I can tell my performance in the kitchen based on her first reaction. For those that have her at the first kiss, she takes her time. She slices through them, the meals of course, with such an art and grace that make anyone desire to be in her hold. That first bite awakens all desire, you can see her shiver all through. She closes her eyes, sways her head to music or words only she can hear and lets out a soft groan of pleasure. Nothing else can claim her attention when she has her love before her. She must be as gentle as she is passionate.
There are those that elicit a raised eyebrow at first taste. You can see the doubts running across her mind. But she is such a sweet woman, she doesn’t give up till she has taught the food to love itself and then she can love it genuinely too. I have asked how she prefers it, with curtains drawn or not, music playing in the background or not. She told me it depends on the meal. The environment should be conducive for both the lover and the beloved, she says. Have you ever loved anything that intimately?
When the act is done, she sits a while as though not willing the moment to end, remembering every high moment she just experienced with a lazy smile across her face. I would give anything to know her true thoughts and not the ones I make up for her in my stories.
I live for the days she asks for seconds!
She doesn’t know this but I study her so deeply and rewrite her experience as erotica for a penny a word. There it is! You can tell your neighbourhood about your wayward child now. And I don’t even know her name. I can imagine you shaking your head in disbelief but I am not going to turn down money where I can find it. I have enclosed one of my rewritings, you may blush through it I warn you, but you have asked and asked because you think you should know every detail of my life and now I have finally relented.
The city is slowly picking up and I look forward to the time order will be fully restored and fear will be a thing of the past. There is more to tell you about my life here but the lady just walked in and I need a new story. Today I’ve prepared your famous Choucroute garnie. We’ll see how well she romances this one.
Ever yours,
Paris.