Parisian Fever - Fifty Shades Style
The Story of Larousse & Louise
It was my first day of starting work experience at Gusteau's Restaurant in the centre of Paris. I was 18 years old and had just moved from Greenock in Scotland to a small bedsit apartment in Paris, France. It was the summer of 2007 and Paris was surprisingly hot for a city so close to the UK.
I had just clocked in and put on the white apron required for work. I pulled my long red hair into a ponytail, leaving my bangs hanging down each side of my face. I then quickly checked myself over in a small mirror before the restaurant's sous chef, Bastien greeted me with the plan of tasks I'd have for the day ahead. I was to be put with Larousse on salad preparation and he would show me the ropes of the kitchen. I was showed to the table where he stood, chopping carrots. He seemed to be a friendly-looking, slightly stocky man in his mid to late 20's, with closely shaved dark hair & a slight stubble. Our eyes met and a strange fluttery feeling bubbled in my stomach as I held his gaze. He smiled.
"Hi, I'm Larousse. You must be the new girl…"
"Louise" I replied coyly, maintaining the eye contact which seemed to be burning with electricity.
'God, now I'm glad I'd took the time this morning to do my make-up' I thought to myself.
"Nice to meet you Louise." he smiled and held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you too, Larousse" I answered as I took hold of his hand to shake. My stomach did flips again as soon as our skin touched. And that French accent, Ooh La La ! It was hot. Was I falling in love at first sight ? Until this moment I hadn't believed in such things. But this was different, definitely instant lust if not anything else. That part was unmistakeable.
"Well, I suppose I should get you used to what your going to be doing in here for the next few weeks, or else Bastien will have some stern words to say to the both of us" he joked, a little twinkle appearing in his light brown eyes as he spoke.
For the rest of the morning he showed me how to hold the knives, how to chop neatly and correctly and also which coloured chopping boards were for different produce etc. By lunchtime I'd pretty much got the hang of it but since our initial meeting we hadn't been sharing quite the same eye-contact as before. Maybe he didn't feel the same way about me, maybe he was just being polite. I wasn't sure.
My eyes shot up and looked around the kitchen for any sign of him. He was standing at the sink washing up. I gazed longingly at him for a second and then began to look away. But as my eyes shifted down, he looked over his shoulder at me. I looked back up and our eyes met again from across the room. There it was again, that crackling bolt of attraction. He smiled, a smile that said a thousand words. He liked me too. A shiver ran down my spine to the base of my pelvis which stirred up a hot, needing sensation between my legs. Oh god…
The rest of the day went by in the blink of an eye, with Larousse and I exchanging glances, smiles and friendly, short conversations with each other. During the breaks I was introduced to the other cooks that worked there: Dominique, Marcel, Pierre, Simon and Colette. They all seemed friendly enough. Chef Marchal didn't appear until later on in the day, as he had business to attend to outside town leaving Bastien in charge of everyone that day.
As my first day was drawing to a close and everyone was clearing up their work stations, Larousse approached me once again.
"Hey Louise. I know this was your first day here and because you are also new to the city, I was wondering if you would like to catch a drink with me after closing time?"
"Sure, I'd love to." I replied eagerly, instantly regretting sounding a little too eager
"Well, I do need to be making friends if I'm to be living in a big, scary new place far away from home for the first time." I added more coolly but still in a flirty tone.
"Right, it's a date then." he chuckled,
"Just wait until I'm finished with this lot and I'll meet you at the door. I have a nice place in mind." he added in a more serious note, as he gave me the same burning-with-desire look as when we'd first met.