My first glimpse of Paris, blew me away. I know I sound like a total tourist, but it was love at first sight. As we drove onto the Place de la Concorde, there was so much to see, I didn’t know where to look, my head spinning round like a deranged robot trying to take it all in. On my left I could see the Louvre, a vast and magnificent building, containing some of the world’s most famous artwork. I knew I’d probably hate

it after tomorrow, the Louvre was the first stop on our itinerary, and Newt was more than likely going to shepherd us round, droning on for hours, without out even letting us stop for lunch. That was enough to make any art lover, despise art.

Craning my head round to look out the windows on the other side of the bus, there was the Champs-Élysées

bustling with lunchtime traffic and dominated over by the impressive Arc De Triumph. Our bus however was headed for the other side of the river Seine. We were going to be staying in a little hotel, not far from the Musée d'Orsay.

I think everyone was relieved when we pulled up outside the Hotel De Suede. Most people were tired from getting up so early and hadn’t eaten since the plane. Since my breakfast had ended up on my classmates head, I was hungrier than most. After everyone had checked in and freshened up, it was time for a late lunch.

Sitting alone in the courtyard garden, I contentedly munched on a nutella crepe and idly flicked through my guide book. There was so much I wanted to see that wasn’t on the trip itinerary, we only got an hour of free time a day and had a ten o’clock curfew each night. Resting the book down on the table, I felt quite disappointed I wouldn’t get to explore Paris for myself. In the early evening the class was told to gather in the reception hall for our first excursion.

“We will be taking a bateaux mouche cruise down the Seine , documenting any architectural points of interest.” Mr Walton announced to my excited class.

“Though I’m afraid Miss Coburn, will remain at the hotel, due to her behaviour this morning.” I stared back in disbelief, while I heard Marie and her friends laughing at my misfortune.

“But, that’s not fair! Kim was provoked!” Tim cried out aghast.

“It was Marie who started it.” Bianca joined in,

“Miss O’Neil didn’t persuade her to drink alcoholic beverages in business class, did she? “ Newt answered them smugly. “No, she will remain here tonight and behave herself for the rest of the trip. Everyone else to the coach.” Defeated I slumped down in an armchair near the reception desk, Bianca and Tim both gave me a sympathetic look, before being ushered out the hotel with everyone else.

A few minutes later, a husky voice echoed out from near the door which led to the courtyard.

“ Excuse moi? Mademoiselle?” Looking up I saw a rather glamorous thirty-something woman, her long dark hair swept up in a loose chignon.

“You know how to play poker?” She smiled, taking a drag of a cigarette held lightly between her fingers.

“Not really.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she beckoned over. “You’ll learn.”

I followed her outside to be greeted by a small group of other equally-groomed ladies, huddled round a candle-lit table. After a brief explanation of the rules, I was dealt some cards and handed a glass of white wine. I eyed the glass cautiously, before the woman next to me laughed and said.

“Don’t worry I wont tell you’re teacher” I grinned, taking a small sip, everyone must have heard Newt berating me in the reception. After two games of Texas Hold’em, I knew everyone on first-name terms. Céline, who had invited me out here, was the hotel’s manager and an actress. Her friends, Diane, Édith and Simone: A fashion boutique owner, journalist and a gallery curator, respectfully, were round for their weekly poker game. Céline explained, she reluctantly managed the hotel for her father, but her real passion was acting, she was also auditioning for a role in a well-known soap next week. Diane was just telling me about the new collection she had just got in, when the phone rang in reception. Céline dashed off, her heels clacking against the stone floor. I few minutes she returned, holding aloft a small piece of paper.

“A message for you.” She winked, handing me the scrap of paper. Written in her small, neat handwriting was:

‘ 12pm tomorrow. Venus de Milo’