Cœur d’artichaut

Eleanor waited in her apartment for Adrien to arrive while Mallory frowned deeply, her smooth skin creasing into crows' feet at the corners of her eyes.

"You can come with us if you want," Eléanor suggested, feeling her wife's reservations, though Mallory had never joined in on her meetings with Adrien, except for that very first night.

"Nope. I said you could do this, and it's fine with me. Besides, the one night was fun, but I don't feel like dating either Adrien or Rapha?l."

Eléanor shrugged. When the doorbell rang, her heart jumped in her ribcage and raced fast. Adrien said they'd be taking his motorcycle, so Eléanor had given up on the idea of a party dress, even if he'd also explained the restaurant would be high-class, though different from any experience she might be used to. Mallory never took her to such chic places. Eléanor was out of the loop and hoped she was dressed appropriately. She worried she might end up with a helmet coiffe too, but what other choice did she have? Add to that the rainstorm brewing on the horizon, and her style would be completely ruined.

All her fears abated, however, when she opened the front door and caught the look on Adrien's face. He gawked, his mouth falling into an O of worship. He ran his eyes over her long black slacks and sexy high heels, topped by a black turtleneck and a thick gold necklace around the collar. Mallory had offered her the jewel when they'd been dating for a year. Eléanor found it a nice touch to wear something reminiscent of their love—that or she was doing it to lessen Mallory's anxiety about the outing.

This wasn't the first time Eléanor and Adrien hung out or met to play. It was, however, the first time they went on an official date and planned to spend the entire night together. Usually, they went to some café or to Adrien's studio, then had sex for a couple of hours before resuming their normal lives. Spending the night was new. Adrien didn't like to mix his relationship with Eléanor with his marriage to Rapha?l, so he'd booked a hotel—four stars because he wanted the best for her, he'd said.

Eléanor looked at her lover, detailing his black suit over a grey buttoned-down shirt, complete with a black tie. Attractive didn't even begin to describe him. His jaw harbored a carefully trimmed scruff, the texture of which she could barely wait to feel against her thighs when he would make love to her. His dark hair was pulled back, but some rebellious strands refused to be tamed and poked out.

She swallowed, staring at him as he held out his hand, barely giving her time to say goodbye to her wife.

The trip on the motorcycle would have felt terrifying if it weren't so liberating. They drove through the chaotic Parisian streets, the sounds of intermittent sirens and honks bringing the luminous city to life, the breeze in her hair. Paris at night was a sight she never tired of, all lights and magic.

Adrien was excellent at taking her places to hang out, be it art museums or parks around the city. It was never fully platonic between them. His sexual energy was too hard to resist. Their encounters always ended at his studio, where they had christened every square meter with insatiable passion.

She gasped upon arriving at the restaurant after he parked the motorcycle in an underground lot. It wasn't a building or a four-star venue as she had expected. The restaurant was a high-end bus with a panoramic glass roof. Adrien gave a tiny sideways smile upon witnessing her surprise. He gestured with his hand for her to head toward the ma?tre-d' at the entrance of the vehicle.

Adrien gave him his name, and the man asked them to climb the red velvet stairs to the inside of the bus. Once inside, Eléanor looked at the few tables already furnished with wine glasses, delicate napkins, and more utensils than she was used to ever seeing. A few couples had already arrived and were sitting down at their respective spots, chatting softly or holding hands.

She settled down with Adrien, and he grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers. "I missed you."

"You saw me last week."

He gave a faint smile. "I'd see you every day if I could."

She responded with a grin, "How would Rapha?l feel about that? "

"Well, I miss him when I'm with you, and I miss you when I'm with him. I have a solution to this, but I doubt Rapha?l and Mallory would agree."

Eléanor let out a tiny laugh and tapped him on the hand. "Stop teasing me. You know we can't live together."

"I know. I can always dream, though."

She knew Adrien was nowhere near that level of commitment, but it was nice knowing he missed her when she wasn't there. She chuckled some more. "What is Rapha?l up to tonight?"

"He's babysitting at Charlotte's house. What about Mallory?"

"Sulking at home." Eléanor gave a shrug. Mallory had been a bit difficult of late, almost as if she were jealous of Adrien. But the mere thought of it was preposterous. It wasn't like her to turn into a green goblin at all.

"Sulking?" He cocked a single eyebrow.

Eléanor sighed. "She claims she's okay with us dating, but I don't know, really."

Adrien's brows pulled together. "You think she's faking it? Being fine with us dating, I mean. Do you think she has a problem with us?"

Eléanor shrugged. "It's hard to tell. She's not the talkative one, you know."

Adrien leaned forward and ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. He looked like he wanted to say something but refrained from it. The two of them hadn't discussed their feelings yet, but she guessed he felt strongly about her. Otherwise, why would he want to spend so much time in her presence?

Another couple entered the bus and filled the last seats, after which the ma?tre d' came in.

"What are you working on?" she asked, more to distract herself from thinking too much about Mallory's attitude than anything else.

She'd loved Adrien's art instantly—the audacity, originality, and erotism of it all were unique, something she had rarely seen before. It required an open mind and a don't-give-a-fuck attitude to create the pieces he did. She'd been to his apartment only once for coffee, where she'd seen Adrien's most suggestive pieces. She hadn't asked which ones were based on real life and which ones were just his wild imagination. Adrien was a god in bed, so she wouldn't be surprised if it were all drawn from life.

Her favorite was of a blonde woman lying down on her back, her hand hidden between her legs, her luscious lips open in ecstasy. It had an Egon Schiele feel to it. She'd asked him if it was based on someone specific, but he never replied. The lack of response said it all.

Adrien gazed at her. "I don't have a lot of queer women paintings. It's been a long time since I've painted some. I think I'd like that."

Eléanor smiled. "Do you need a model?"

He looked her up and down, then cocked an eyebrow. "Are you volunteering?"

She blushed all the way down her face. "Maybe. "

She would never have suggested something so indecent with anyone else—exposing herself and her burnt flesh to the naked eye of an artist. But Adrien made her feel sexy as hell. The lust he felt for her seemed endless. She had never felt so wanted before, even in Mallory's arms.

The ma?tre d' chose that moment to tour the tables. He stopped at theirs last, standing there in his black suit and white button-down shirt.

"You have ordered the regular adult menu with wine pairing, sir?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The ma?tre d' bowed his head and went to the back of the bus, seemingly to get the wine, which he brought to each table with baskets of baguettes cut into slices. Adrien explained that the restaurant only had three menus: one for adults, one for children, and one for vegetarians.

"I thought you might take me on a picnic today," Eléanor said, still flustered by the whole deal.

Adrien looked at her skeptically. "How am I supposed to offer you the best during a picnic?"

Eléanor flushed. "Well, you know, at the Tuileries or the Jardin du Luxembourg. We could have brought some wine and cheese with crackers."

Adrien bit his lower lip and gave a low chuckle. "This is real life, Eléanor, not some cliché romance novel. Who takes wine on a picnic?"

"I do," she protested .

"What a waste." He laughed and winked at her. "I can take you on a picnic anytime. I wanted something different."

This experience was special indeed. Adrien had insisted on taking the six-course menu, complete with alcohol. When he asked to go to the bathroom, she snuck out her phone to check out the website. Her eyes bugged out at the price of the meal, topping at three hundred euros for the two of them. When he returned, she insisted upon paying her part, though she didn't have that kind of money. Adrien flicked his hand and refused pointblank.

"How come you chose the menu with wine?" she asked. If there was one thing she knew about Adrien, it was that he didn't drink because of his antidepressants. Of course, he was driving too, so she wondered why he'd asked for the menu with alcohol if he wasn't going to enjoy it.

"Just because I don't drink doesn't mean you shouldn't. Besides, this menu also comes with water and coffee."

She felt like telling him it was thirty euros more just for said water and coffee, but she didn't want to discuss the cost too much and make him uncomfortable.

The waiter brought their first plate right then anyway—a smoked halibut tartare. She'd never had raw fish before, except for sushi. She took the first bite and nearly melted from the sheer taste of it pooling on her tongue.

"What piece are you making now?" he asked after finishing his first bite.

Her sculptures were nowhere near as popular as Adrien's art. Unlike him, she couldn't make a living from them—let alone make a fortune. She had to work as an online consultant for a website company to earn money on the side.

She didn't want to tell him that she was actually sculpting him. It was something even Mallory didn't know about. They'd only been together for two months, after all.

She replied vaguely, "A bust. I'll show you when it's done."

"Will you teach me how to sculpt someday?" He brought the fork to his lips and took another bite.

She was taken aback by the question. But then, of course, Adrien loved all things artistic. The material didn't seem to matter to him as long as he could create. From what he'd told her, he was entirely self-taught when it came to his oils, watercolors, and charcoals, which said loads about his genius.

"You really want to?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Will you teach me how to use watercolors?" she asked in return.

"With pleasure." He beamed at her, his eyes creasing with visible wrinkles. God, he was handsome!

She was still baffled by his mastery of watercolor skills. She knew hardly anything about his past. Adrien avoided those questions at all costs, it seemed. But he did assure her he never attended art school.

She observed him as he ate before he noticed her staring and smiled, asking her what she thought of the meal.

"It's delicious. And the view…"

The double-decker drove by the Place de l'étoile, where she stared at the illuminated Arc-de-triomphe. The ride was smooth too. The driver must have been an expert at dealing with the difficult Parisian traffic.

She was starting to feel a bit buzzed after only one glass of wine. She rarely drank. Adrien hadn't touched his glass at all.

She hadn't had that much fun in a very long time. She was caught in a sort of routine with Mallory—a monotonous way of living that never ended. She truly hated to compare her wife to her lover, but Adrien had swept in like a breath of fresh air.

Eléanor cringed from feeling this way, but the truth was the adventures she went on with Adrien increased her love for Mallory by rendering her life less dull. It was all to her wife's benefit, really, including the sexual perks. Eléanor hadn't been that horny in a long time. Even Mallory saw and appreciated the difference.

As if reading her mind, Adrien said, "Nothing needs to happen after this. You're drinking, and I'm not. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage. Sleeping by your side is more than I could hope for."

She lowered her head, blushing. She craved the touch of his body against her. Falling asleep against his chest wasn't something they'd done yet. Every first she had with him made her feel anew.

She'd been with Mallory for so long, she'd forgotten what falling hard felt like. With Mallory came the comforting feeling of having someone reliable to hold on to. Her wife was there to stay.

With Adrien, the world felt like a spinning wheel—she never knew what was coming next, and she had no time to catch her breath. From the first time he'd kissed her to those moments he'd made love to her, she never tired of him, his scent, his touch. His wit and endless talent added to the mix. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't falling deeply for him—a secret she had kept even from her wife, though it seemed Mallory was getting suspicious.

After seeing the main touristic points, from the Musée d'Orsay, to Notre-Dame, they drove to the Opéra Garnier. So far, the waiter had also brought a chestnut cream soup and some cod. Eléanor was already full, but the beef fillet on her plate seemed scrumptious, the type to melt under the tongue. She forced a bite and didn't regret it one second. Tender and soft, the meat didn't crunch once under her teeth before she tried the cranberries accompanying it.

"I don't know that I can have the cheese and cake," she told Adrien.

He grinned. "We still have time. There's no rush."

Eléanor looked at the other couples around them as some classical music played low in the background. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their meals.

When the cake arrived, along with champagne, after the cheese for dessert, Eléanor wondered if she should indulge. Of course she trusted Adrien. Even if she were sloshed, she would be safe. But she did have to sit on his motorcycle without slipping or getting sick. Besides, it had started to rain, just as she suspected.

Adrien feared it might dim the experience, but Eléanor loved the rain. It calmed her down and comforted her. Granted, it was more difficult to see the city, the lights of which were now blurry from the drops on the panoramic roof, but everything was still fabulous.

Their gateau de l'opéra looked like a tiramisu—a sponge cake soaked in coffee syrup, with ganache and coffee buttercream—but with a chocolate glaze on top. Adrien cut a piece with his spoon, but instead of eating it, he asked Eléanor to taste it. The cake melting on her tongue was divine. She moaned, and Adrien shifted in his seat as if to readjust himself. She gave a little sideways smile and took a sip of her champagne—all caution be damned.

When they were done, Adrien asked for the check, paid for the meal with his credit card without blinking at the price even once, and he added a generous tip in change.

He took her hand to lead her out once the bus parked. She was slightly wobbly on her feet, her head spinning some, but she wasn't drunk. At least, she was steady enough to hold on to him as they walked toward the parking lot. It was pouring at this point. She would be drenched by the time they reached the hotel.

He helped her climb on the motorcycle, gave her a helmet, put his own on, and started driving, riding carefully because of the rain.

Adrien hadn't lied; the hotel they were staying at was magnificent, with an elegantly sculpted white fa?ade. It even had a valet, to whom he handed his motorcycle and his keys.

The inside was just as striking, but Eléanor didn't have much time to explore before Adrien grabbed her hand eagerly and led her to the elevator after checking in as quickly as he possibly could. He wasn't drunk on alcohol, but he sure seemed drunk on her.

The instant they stepped into the elevator, he pinned her against the wall and devoured her mouth, his hand grabbing her thigh to lift her leg as they began dry-humping with passion. She wanted him. So much. She never got enough of him. She already knew they'd spend the night making love, and she could hardly wait.

They were both dripping wet as Adrien caught each drop falling from her hair to her mouth with his own, his tongue swaying against hers.

He forced himself to pull away when they reached their floor, where he found their room and opened the door. He led her in, pushing her against the wall as soon as the door closed behind them. He had his hand down her pants in no time, finding all the right spots to set her on fire. This promised to be a good night. A good night, indeed.