On a Friday morning in January 1985 an Air France flight from Los Angeles landed on time at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Sharon and Amber exited from the 747 and proceeded through the terminal to pick up their luggage. Four big bags packed with exotic dancing costumes.
Male and female travelers stared at the slim brunette in tight leather and the buxom blonde tomboy dressed in North Hollywood erotica, then again men stared at them everywhere. No surprise. They were world famous XXX starlets. The two had been invited to shoot several adult films by a Paris porno production company and also educate the French male porn stars how to speak English. Basically Fuck Language 101.
A young man from the production company greeted them outside of the customs and led them to a Renault limo. He placed their bags in the trunk and introd his name was Rene. Sharon and Amber laughed at how he said his name. So very French. They slipped into the back and he sat up front with a surly unshaven driver. Both women smelled that the driver had not bathed today and maybe not this week or month.
"You are so French." Sharon almost expected them to be wearing a berets. The slender brunette had never been to France , but she had been born in Italy where her mother gave her up to adoption to a Catholic Family in New Jersey.
She always said that explained why she have become a porno actress. Her blonde buxom companion had different reasons.
Amber came from Orange County California. The closest Amber had ever been to France was at Disneyland's IT'S A SMALL WORLD in Anaheim. Out the window was country flat farmland plowed brown dirt as far as the eye could see and not a single American car was on the highway.
“Rene, I wish you were wearing a beret, so I thought you were French.”
"I am French, but not that French." Rene smiled from the front passenger seat.
"Are you an actor?" Amber hoped he was in the movies, because most of the men she had seen in French XXX films were hairy cavemen. Rene was young and cute.
"No, I work in production, but I'm your daytime guide to Paris."
"What do you do at night?" asked Sharon.
She was already fantasizing about a menage a trois between the three of them. She had learned that phrase for two women and men in bed from her cousin Sean, who lived in Paris and presently worked at a nightclub called La Balajo.
"No, I work in production, but I'm here to be your daytime guide to Paris."
"What do you do at night?" asked Sharon. She was already fantasizing about a menage a trois between the three of them. She had learned that phrase for two women and men in bed from her cousin Pete, who was living in Paris and presently worked at a nightclub called La Balajo.
"I go out sometimes."
"My cousin Pete works at the Balajo and a couple of other clubs."
"Monday night. I know the club.”
In 1982 Sean had fled New York to avoid an Internal Affairs and FBI investigation into the Continental Club, a notorious after-hours haunt in West Chelsea. He hadn't been back for three years, except for the holidays. They had been fuck-buddies since 1978. .
"You talk about him all the time. You don't sound like cousins." Amber smirked having heard about their sexual exploits in New York.
"Oh we're cousins all right." They weren't really cousins but saying that they were saved time from explaining how they met at The Nursery, a sordid after-hours Club on 3rd Avenue in the East Village. Lovers ever since.
"He lives on Ile St. Louis."
“That address is very chic. In the middle of Paris, an island in the Seine." Rene lifted his eyebrow, impressed by her cousin.
"Funny, Pete lived in a slum in New York. So did I. These Village was a great place for the young and restless."
"Still is," added Amber, who had a couple of rock and roll boyfriends on the Lower East Side. New York was an always a fun town for her whenever she was dancing at Show World in Times Square. It was not Los Angeles and as they entered the Paris suburbs, she was sure that Paris was in Los Angeles either or even California or anywhere in the United States. "I'm looking to have a good time here. Are you single?"
"No, I have a girlfriend, but she likes to how you say swing with girls."
"With girls like us?” asked Sharon.
"Oui, with girls like you."
"I knew I would love Paris." She had been dreaming of this trip since the phone call from Paris in December. She had called Pete. He had promised to be a good guide and they both knew what that meant as did Amber.
The limousine drop them at a small hotel in La Marais, the Jewish quarter by the Seine. Pete had suggested the hotel. He lived on an island in the Seine not faraway. Rene unloaded the bags. The proprietor was a sweet Jewish woman, who laughed to see them.
"Tu es la cousine de Peter."
Sharon roughly translated what she said to understand that she was a cousin of Peter. She knew that he had been a guest here many times and the old woman must have loved him. Everyone loved Pete, except for those who did not love him. He was only trouble he to himself, but he was able to survive that danger. He was the luckiest man Sharon knew.
Madame Gruntuch lead them up to the top floor, a duplex with a large king bed and its windows overlooking rooftops with Notre Dame in the near distance. There was no phone and Rene translated to the owner had said they could call him downstairs and she will take your messages. He pointed to a business card on the bed table. The old woman left wishing them good luck.
"This isn't far from where your cousin lives." Rene dropped their bags, looking completely exhausted. He gave them a stack of Francs and said, "This is for you to get comfortable. You must be exhausted after your long flight. I have work to do, but I know my boss, Jacques wants to meet you at 5:00 over in St. Germain. Le Deux Magots. It's a famous cafe. I'm sure your cousin will know where it is."
"Not at all. We're ready to rock. I'll call my cousin. He's waiting for us. He'll be our guide."
Rene seemed to relieved by this news and wrote down his phone number.
“I have work to do, but I know my boss, Jacques wants to meet you at 5:00 over in St. Germain. Le Deux Magots. It's a famous cafe. I'm sure your cousin will know where it is."
Rene left and the two women were alone for the first time since they entered the LAX terminal. They had made love in the jet's water closet over the Atlantic, just to claim another flight for the mile-high club.
"I don't know about you, but I could use a shower." Sharon stripped off her clothing
"Together?" Amber unbuttoned her shirts, baring her small breasts.
"Of course." Sharon and Amber were free. They were on the frontline of the Sexual Revolution . Sex was their gift to the world.
Any plans to do a morning tour of Paris ended after the shower the two fell into bed cuddled and fell asleep, despite Sharon's snoring. It was good to be in Paris.
The two woke to the rain at 10:01. All the rooftops were grey and wet from the rain. There was no threat of sunlight. Sharon got out of bed and padded across the cold wooden floor to the window. Down below the Narrow Street was empty. The Twin Towers of Notre Dame for shrouded by the downpour she turned to Amber and asked, "Did you bring any rain gear?"
"We live in LA. Why would we have rain gear?"
"Because we're in Paris and I remember my cousin saying to bring wet weather gear."
"And did you?"
"I brought flip-flops, but it's not flip flop weather out there. We're going to need an umbrellas and raincoats and maybe even boots."
Amber slipped out of bed and joined Sharon at the window. Both of them were shivering in their nakedness. She had been brought up in New Jersey. This cold was not like that damp cold. She felt it in her bones.
"I was not born to be in weather like this." Amber had seen rain like this in California during monsoon season and she hated that time. Nothing was ever dry.
"Don't worry I'll keep you warm."
The two returned to bed and pulled up the duvet over their naked bodies. Sharon looked at her watch and realize it was still on LA time. The only time she knew it was was daytime.
"You stay in bed I'll go get umbrellas and raincoats. Maybe Madam Grinch will bring us up some breakfast when I come back."
"Some good news finally."
Sharon dressed quickly in a warm-up suit and a leather jacket. Her only boots were leather thigh high stiletto heels. All her other Footwear were sneakers and sandal. Kissing Amber she left the hotel room and walk down the stairs to the front desk. Madam Grand took was there and smiled to see her guest. The old woman glance at the clock. It was ten to 11. She handed Sharon an umbrella and a note. It was from her cousin. He had left his telephone number and address, plus where he worked, the Balajo on Rue de Lappe. Madam Grintuch informed her where to buy raincoat and shoes on the nearby boulevard.
"Merci." the only other words she knew in French were Bonjour and Bon nuit.
Sharon stepped out onto the sidewalk the rain wasn't as heavy. She unfurled the umbrella and walk down Rue des Ecouffes to a broad boulevard. A pretty young woman pased by and regarded her with a disapproving scowl and Sharon wondered if her color blindness had cursed her with a crazy quilt of red yellows and purples. Her reflection in a pane of glass revealed nothing and she hurried down the street. The store was where Madame Gruntuch said it was. After telling the keeper that she wanted to look like Paris, she stripped out of her clothing and tried on a simple yet short gray skirt and a tight black sweater. Her outfit was completed with leather gloves, black raincoats, and shoes as well as two berets. THe other red for Amber who like bright colors. The shop lady approved of the change-over and said in broken English, "Now you are a Parisian."
Back out in the boulevard Sharon started to hurry back to the hotel. She felt warmer and the boots She spotted a cute cafe with an awning. The middle-aged woman behind the bar waved for her to come inside. Sharon nodded, but sat outside under the awning. No one else was sitting outside. Sharon wanted to see Paris in the rain in order to a cafe and a cognac. They came fast and she admired her reflection in the window. She looked very European, as she should having been born in Napoli far to the South. Here's world in Her Eyes. This is my continent my country is to the South i'm back home. Where I belonged. Sharon picked up a a napkin buried her face in the white cloth. The older woman came out and asked if everything was okay. Sharon nodded and said, "It's a long time since I've been in Europe. I'm happy to be home."
An hour later Madame Gruntuch clucked her approacl at the newe look and handed over the telephone, dialing her cousin's number, then passed the receiver. He was happy to hear that she had gotten rain gear and said he was coming over to give them a tour of the Left Bank whatever that was. Sharon went upstairs, followed by Madame Gruntuch with the breakfast tray.
Amber look like a movie star dressed in a pink and black catsuit high black boots and a leather jacket. Madam Grand took a remark how she was 'si belle'. Of course she was beautiful she was only 20 years old. The two of them ate the long stick of bread with butter and jam and drank the strong coffee with hot milk and plenty of sugar. The two of them hadn't done any cocaine since leaving LA. They had partially agreed to this trip to get away from the drug scene in Hollywood in the Valley. Drugs were everywhere in the porno industry in in Sharon suspected it was the same here in Paris.
"Does your cousin speak any French?"
"Yes, he says he learned it from the English subtitles of movies and his girlfriends, who he calls them the sleeping dictionaries and sleeping with someone was the best way to learn a language."
"Maybe he can teach me some French, while we're here. You're not possessive, are you?
"He's he's my cousin. Not my boyfriend. Thank goodness."
"Nothing worse than boyfriends."
Amber was lucky with Jamie, a veteran XXX actor. He was crazy sexually. More a boyfiend than a boyfriend, but Paris wasn't LA and they were free to be with whomever they wanted to be.
A knock on the door announced her cousin's arrival. Pete was dressed in black leather gloves jacket boots with a Black Beret. No umbrella. He never liked them. Amber stood across the room to kiss him on the lips and pressing her body against his, as if she didn't want to see Paris. He kissed her back for more than a second. The attraction was Mutual.
"Normally I'd say go get a Hotel, but we're in a hotel." Sharon wanted them both. He looked at the brunette and understood her desire but said, "Let's go see Paris."
Her cousin led them out into the rain. Amber also got a raincoat and sensible shoes. Sensible but sexy. They crossed the Seine onto Ile St. Louis. He pointed out his apartment and said ancient wooden beams cross the ceiling. Quasimodo could have lived there.
Amber look puzzled and Sharon said "The hunchback of Notre Dame."
"Which which is first on the list."
Both Sharon and Amber happy to have umbrellas and dry feet. They swiftly toward the gothic Cathedral, Pete pointing out the various Saints in the multi-colored stained glass windows. Patrick's in New York was magnificent, but Notre Dame was Heaven on Earth for Catholics. Above the choir with a small black statue.
"Black Michael, the archangel. He defeated Satan. Across the river is another greater statue let's let's like candles for our sins and we'll go there next."
Once more across the Seine in a light drizzle. None of this look like la or the valley or Malibu. There was no sun. Just a million Shades of Gray. He led them into a bookstore ancient smelling of old paper. Shakespeare and Company. He nodded to the clerks pretty girls, and walk to a small bookshelf.
"This is where they hide all the old porno. Great books from the 50s and 60s some even older. We can look at them and even take them if we want. No one thinks anybody would steal these books. These books are the first ones to teach me about sex. Here. The Itch. A classic by Stephen Hammer covering all of the major sexual deviations. Especially love Page 83."
Peter read that page to them both Amber and Sharon rubbed against both sides of his hips. The brunette bit her pouting lower lip. The XXX director of Personal Touch 3 had tutored her on that look She had been nineteen. All men loved it, but Peter's cousin kept reading the stroke book, as if it were the Bible. She wanted a line. nothing about this moldy bookstore said drugs and she said, "Lets get a drink."
"I know just the place.
