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I climb out of the limo and help Paige out. When she steps out onto the asphalt and gazes up at my plane, she whistles. “This is fancy. We don’t have to go through security or immigration?”
“No, we don’t. You don’t have to do all that when you have your own jet.”
“Huh… You know, I am aware that you are extraordinarily rich, but sometimes I forget just how rich you are.”
“Well, it’s just money.”
“Only a mega wealthy person would say that.” She chuckles.
Wanting this conversation to end, I grab her hand and walk us to the plane.
The seven hour flight to Paris feels more like 10 minutes. That’s mostly because Paige and I spend most of our time on board naked in the back room. After a while we take a shower together then a quick nap, and before we know it we’re touching down at Charles de Gaulle Airport.
It’s 11 o’clock at night when we step off the plane. We are greeted by a tall, young and very blonde man who is wearing an impeccable suit, but I can tell it’s airport issued.
“Bienvenue à Paris.” the young man says.
I nod and Paige says, “Merci.”
“Je m’appelle Basile. S'il te plaît, suis-moi et je t'aiderai à passer l'immigration.”
At this point, I would’ve asked for a translation, but without missing a beat Paige says, “Très bien, ouvre la voie.”
The young man turns and starts walking into the terminal.
“I didn’t know you can speak French,” I say.
“I had to learn because DeLisle does a lot of business here in France.”
“The more I get to know you the more I realize just how much of a mystery you are.”
She giggles.
“Anyway, what did he say?” I ask.
“He said his name is Basile and he asked us to follow him and he would get us through immigration. I said okay.”
We do just that. It doesn’t take long before we are on the road and headed to our hotel. Although it’s night time, Paige is mesmerized by the beautiful city beyond her window. She spends the almost hour-long drive staring at the sights as we drive by, and I don’t disturb her.
Once we get to our hotel,Château des Fleurs, we are given a warm welcome by hotel staff and are led to our suite. The second we walk in, Paige’s jaw drops and she gasps at the sight of the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance through the main window of the room.
She turns to me. “This is such a beautiful view.”
“I’m glad you like it.” My hands go around her waist and I place a kiss on her lips.
I turn around, tip our bag boy, and he leaves.
Even though we are both excited to be here, we are exhausted from the long day of travel. So we get into bed not long after our arrival.
We startoff the next morning with a catered breakfast in our room, then head out to do all the touristy things. We go for a walk along the Seine, go rowing in Bois de Vincennes, climb the Sacré-Cœur and finish the day watching the sunset from the Arc De Triomphe.
It was a wonderful day, not because of all the things we got to do, but because we did them together.
That night when Paige and I have sex, it feels different. More intimate. We make love. Ever since we left New York, I’ve noticed that Paige has gotten a little more affectionate. I guess it’s the Paris effect. I can’t say I’m complaining.
The next morning it’s Paige’s 30th birthday. She wakes up to me serving her breakfast in bed.
“What’s this?” She asks, as she sits up in bed with a smile and rubs sleep from her eyes.
