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I nodded, picked up my repast, and joined her. She complimented me on my choice of cheese. I offered her some and she accepted, then offered me a bit of pear from the Brittany coast. I found it delicious. I must say in looking back over many years, that lunch, in the soft spring air, the boats gliding by on the Seine with simple bread, cheese, and pears all washed down with a red country wine in the company of a delightful young woman was one of the most memorable meals I have had occasion to enjoy.I felt as if I was French for we shifted to French at my request as I asked her to help with my speech. She was complimentary, even though she did say I had a pronounced English accent. But I was able to be understood, and as I had been spending my days absorbed in reading the latest French writings, I was able to discuss many of the men of letters of the day. Surprisingly, Marie Louise was as knowledgeable, and perhaps more so, than I. In this way, she reminded me of Elizabeth.After lunch,. I needn't have worried. As I stepped around the hallway corner I was greeted with a sight that froze me. She'd spent the time well while I was in the shower! Gone were the jeans and tee shirt she'd been wearing as she'd cleaned the kitchen. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the view of her rounded white ass cheeks facing me from the edge of the dining room table, bright and seductive above her thigh-high stockings. "Fuck, Liz," I gasped. She'd raided the toy bag, my industrious, sexy girl. She was naked but for the stockings, bent over the dining room table. She'd strapped her ankles to the heavy legs and stood on tiptoes to keep her ass in the air. From this angle I could see her breasts pressed flat under her chest against the dark, polished wood, her arms out to the sides, gripping the edges. Her head was turned in my direction, cheek resting on the tabletop, and she'd wrapped a scarf around her head, blindfolding herself. My towel felt suddenly tight and I undid the.
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