This is the first chapter of Awakening, the first book in the Secret Desires in France series. The three books have around 140 pages each, so this is just the beginning.

LOUISE

Carrying a straw bag over her shoulder Louise walked from her car to the marina of Sainte Maxime. In the distance, across the bay, Saint Tropez was basking in the warm sunlight. Francis and Monique, friends from Cannes, had invited her to spend the Sunday on their yacht. They were picking her up here, but she was early and would probably have to wait a bit. She sat down on a bench and adjusted her elegant summer hat. What a beautiful day it was! The end of September, but still warm enough for the beach or a boating trip. Besides, she hadn’t seen her friends for ages and was looking forward to a relaxing day on the water with them.

Monique’s invitation had come at the right moment. Normally Rob would have been home and they would have spent the day by the pool, reading, swimming and talking. However, Rob had called from London two days ago to tell her he had an important meeting on Monday, so he was going to stay there, in their apartment in Notting Hill. She had understood of course, but still, she felt disappointed and had just been wondering what to do with her weekend when Monique called.

It was their sixth summer in France. After selling their advertising company for millions of dollars to an American multinational they had become very rich almost overnight. At the age of thirty-eight and forty-two, they could do whatever they wanted and had decided to move to the Cote d’Azur. They had bought a villa near the town of Grasse, which was north of Cannes, but still close to the Mediterranean. For Louise, it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She didn’t miss England for one second. Rob’s reaction to his sudden freedom was different though. He missed work and the dynamics of running things and meeting people. He even missed deadlines, he admitted once when he was feeling particularly miserable. It got so bad that in the end, even Louise agreed it might be best if he got back into the business. Now he worked as a consultant and was actually doing really well again.

The drawback for Louise was that most of his appointments were in the UK and sometimes even in the US or the Far East. She got to spend a lot less time with her husband than she had hoped when they sold the business. But well, sometimes things don’t work out exactly the way you think, do they? She was blessed with a flexible mind and by now she had learned to make the best of it.

‘Louise! Hey, Louise!’

A man was calling out her name. There, on the yacht that was approaching the pier. It was Francis, Monique’s husband. He waved at her and she waved back, showing him that she had seen him. She picked up her bag and walked to the spot where the yacht was likely to stop. Monique waved at her too now and behind her, Louise saw the faces of three more people. When the boat was close enough she stepped on board. Francis whooped and immediately pulled out of the marina, heading for the open water of the Mediterranean again.

Monique introduced Louise to the other people: Marc and Jeanne from Monaco and Carlos from Cuba, who was a friend of the Monegasques. Marc, she observed, was a jovial guy with a loud voice and easy smile. In contrast to most inhabitants of Monaco, he was born and raised there. He was about fifty years old and had a potbelly and a bald head. His body though was covered with hair. It was on his back, his shoulders, upper arms--it was just everywhere.

His wife, Jeanne was a petite redhead with pale skin and thin limbs. She seemed kind, soft-spoken and very different from her husband. The Cuban man, Carlos, didn’t say much at first. Shy perhaps, Louise thought. Shy, but attractive with his dark skin and muscular body.

‘Louise is a therapist, but she owns an art gallery in Cannes as well,’ Monique said to the others.

You just had to admire her social skills, Louise thought, because with this one remark she made everybody feel at ease right away. Marc and Jeanne collected art and Carlos turned out to be a sculptor.

While Francis stood at the helm like a real captain, Monique served drinks and olives. The boat was a medium sized yacht, nothing extravagant, but the sundeck was spacious enough for a small group of people to relax in chairs and on cushions that were set around a low, round table. Louise took off her sandals and made herself more comfortable. Listening to Marc rave about Carlos’s work he and Jeanne had seen in Havana, she thought to herself it had been a good decision to join these people today.

She asked the Cuban if he had had any expositions abroad. Just small talk for the moment, but you never knew. He told her his work was popular in Madrid and Barcelona and now his agent was trying to make a name for him in London too. He wasn’t shy, Louise realized. He looked her in the eye and talked in a confident and natural manner. Very laid back, that’s what he was. The type that didn’t feel a need to speak, unless he was asked something.

‘So how do the three of you know each other?’ she asked Jeanne.

‘Carlos is my brother’s best friend,’ she said. ‘My brother lives in Havana.’

‘How about you, Louise?’ Marc asked. ‘Are you English?’

‘Yes, born and raised, but my mother was French.’

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘that explains your Mediterranean looks.’

‘You think so?’

‘Mais oui, the dark hair, your eyes, your skin. You look too exotic to be English.’

‘And you are too chauvinistic for your own good,’ Jeanne said to her husband.

‘I am from Monaco, I’m not French,’ he said in a defensive tone.

And he looked like he meant it, this talkative, cocky man with too much hair on his body. He was entertaining though, Louise thought.

In the meantime, something else was happening too. While everybody was having a good time and more drinks and food were served, Louise began to notice the way the Cuban sculptor was looking at her. He was subtle about it and at first, she thought she was imagining it, but the more time passed, the stronger the feeling became that he was looking at her in a way that the others weren’t. He still didn’t speak much, but his focus was there and once she was certain of it, it even seemed to get more intense. It gave her the feeling that he was undressing her with his eyes. Sometimes when men looked at her this way she wanted to slap them in the face, something that she had actually even done on two occasions. With the sculptor, it was different though. As the six of them kept chitchatting, she began to enjoy the feeling of his eyes on her body.

When they reached Cap Taillat Francis asked if one of the men could help him throw out the anchor. Marc volunteered right away. Jeanne and Monique got to their feet too to look at the shallow, transparent water around the boat. Louise and the Cuban didn’t move. They were sitting opposite each other, Louise in a low chair, Carlos on a thick and comfortable cushion. Jeanne pointed out a fish to Monique and urged them to come take a look too, but still, they didn’t move. They looked at each other openly now. Incredible, she thought, how fast it could go when two people feel attracted to one another. An hour ago she hadn’t known this man and still she hardly knew him, but apparently their bodies told a different story. The Cuban looked her in the eye. Not playing any games, his look said it all, and she guessed he saw the same message coming from her. Except that she was married of course and he knew that too. He didn’t seem to care though. The question was, did she?

Marc came back to the sundeck and said he was going for a swim. Jeanne asked, why didn’t they all go to the beach over there? Monique said something about towels, but Francis thought he’d be able to swim with a bag above his head. It was decided that they would all head for the beach and suddenly there was movement everywhere, people getting undressed to their swim shorts and bikinis. Monique and Francis, liberal as they were, took those off too though and Louise followed their example, stepping out of her white bikini without hesitation. She had always felt at ease with her body and normally went to nudist beaches whenever she had the chance. Today something else too made her take off her clothes though. It was a spur of the moment decision, but yes, she felt like giving the Cuban sculptor something to think about. She felt like challenging him too. As she jumped after Francis and Monique into the water she wondered if the Cuban would get undressed too. If so, she was curious to see more of him; if not, he might be shy after all.

The water of the Mediterranean still had a perfect temperature. She swam a few strokes and then looked back at the boat. Jeanne and Marc were just jumping overboard, both of them still dressed in bikini and swimming trunks. Louise waited for Carlos, who was the last one to go. While the others were swimming away from the boat towards the coast, she stayed where she was. The Cuban stepped forward to the edge of the boat, still wearing his blue swimming shorts. He was about to jump when he realized she was waiting for him. They looked at each other again and three seconds later, without either of them saying anything, he took off his trunks. Louise’s heart skipped a beat when her eyes took in the muscular thighs and the enormous black cock hanging between them. He was uncut and even in a relaxed state he was bigger than her husband when he was hard. Then he jumped into the water too and came up close to her a moment later.

‘Oh, the water is great!’ he said and she realized this was the most enthusiastic thing she had heard him say so far.

‘I had expected Cuban men to be more at ease with their body,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you all seductive salsa dancers?’

She was just teasing him, but he looked confused and asked her what she meant.

‘Just that you looked shy there, afraid to take off your trunks.’

Now he looked taken aback, not expecting this woman to be so direct.

‘Marc and Jeanne were shy. They are my friends.’

‘I see,’ Louise said. ‘So why did you change your mind?’

‘Because of you.’

‘Because of me? You hardly know me.’

She began to swim towards the coast, where the others were already getting out of the water. Carlos followed her. When the water was shallow enough for them to walk, she stopped and faced him. Her large breasts were above the surface now. She felt his eyes go over them quickly.

‘Did you just look at my breasts?’ she asked him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking embarrassed now.

She continued walking. Monique and Jeanne had found a place in the white sand and were spreading out their towels. Marc and Francis were already climbing the hill, one of them naked, the other in trunks. She looked at the Cuban at her side and realized she wanted to know more about him. Yes, she was married, but finding out more about someone wouldn’t hurt, would it? The water was so shallow now that it only reached his knees. The big penis was swinging from left to right. The sight of it gave her a funny feeling in the belly. She stopped walking and sat down on her knees with the water coming to her waist. The Cuban did the same. Like earlier on the boat, they sat opposite each other, but now a lot closer. The water was so transparent that she could still see his cock, even though it was submerged now. His black pubic hair floated in the water as if it had a life of its own.

‘What will they think?’ he asked her. ‘Shouldn’t we go and join them?’

He nodded at their friends on the beach.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘We can hang out here for a bit. Just two people talking to each other, right?’

‘I guess you’re right.’

His eyes went to her breasts again.

‘If they are watching us, they’re wondering now if you just looked at my breasts again,’ she said.

He smiled at that, knowing that the women on the beach were too far away to see them in such detail. 

‘I understand that you are married?’ he asked.

‘Yes. And you?’

‘No, I’m single again.’

They looked each other in the eye and it was all there. The desire for one another, whether they were married or single. He looked at her breasts again, but longer this time. 

‘Your tits are amazing,’ he said.

‘You call them tits in Cuba?’

‘Sorry, breasts. 'Tits' sounds crude perhaps.’

‘I don’t mind crude at times. So how do you say ‘tits’ in Spanish?’

‘Tetas.’

‘Tetas,’ she repeated but it sounded different when he said it. He laughed and said, ‘God, you’re beautiful. You know what I thought just before you jumped into the water? That I would love to work with you.’

‘Work with me?’

‘I’m a sculptor, remember? I would love it if you would pose for me.’

Louise chuckled and asked him if that was his standard pick-up line. Sometimes, he said, but this time he meant it. She thought about it and said she could imagine it too.

‘Really?’ he asked. ‘Does that mean you’ll do it?’

‘Yes, why not? Years ago I posed for a painter too. I liked it.’

‘I would love to see those paintings.’

‘Why? You’re looking at the real thing right here.’

‘True, except that half of your body is under the water.’

Teasing her now, but also making himself sound a bit like some creepy Don Juan.

‘What is ‘pig’ in Spanish?’ she asked, but smiling and playing along with him.

‘Cerdo.’

She repeated the word and then got to her feet, giving him what he wanted and what she wanted too. She was towering above him now with her statuesque body. At forty-four, she was still in perfect shape with curves in all the right places. Almost every morning she ran five miles. She also biked to town regularly and practiced Brazilian jiu-jitsu and judo whenever she had the time. All this was keeping her fit, but the curves she had always had. Large breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips that she was showing to the sculptor now. He looked up at her with big eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and with him sitting in front of her, on his knees in the shallow water, a strange, bossy feeling came over her. Funny how a certain posture could have an effect on how she felt. She spread her legs, taking a step to the side with her right foot. Give him something else to look at, although he would hardly need to see her pussy up close for his ‘work’, would he?

‘What do you think?’ she asked him.

He didn’t respond. His eyes were glued to her pussy. She was glad she had shaved this morning.

‘Still want to work with me?’

‘Oh yes!’

‘We should set a time and date then. How long are you here for?’

He groaned and said that he was leaving tomorrow morning. Louise felt a pang of disappointment, but maybe it was for the best. She was married of course and wasn’t at all sure that this was a good idea. She looked up and saw Monique wave at her. She waved back, turning away from the Cuban at the same time. Another groan escaped from the sculptor’s throat.

‘God,’ he said, ‘that’s the best ass I’ve ever seen.’

‘Don’t exaggerate,’ she told him. ‘It’s too big.’

‘Oh no, it isn’t. It suits your hips and tits and it’s so round I can’t believe it.’

She looked at him and now noticed that his cock had become hard. The sight of his penis had given her a funny feeling before, but seeing it hard sent a rush of adrenaline and lust through her body. His black cock was enormous! Long and thick and with a purple head, that was poking up at her.

‘Is that part of being a sculptor too?’ she asked, nodding at his dick.

He shrugged and smiled at her.

‘I guess you can’t join the rest of us on the beach now,’ she said.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’d better stay here for another while. Or I might go back to the boat. You can tell them I drank too much and didn’t feel well.’

‘Poor you.’

She began to walk towards the beach. He wasn’t ready to give up though.

‘Hey, Louise,’ he said. She turned around and raised her eyebrows.

‘I was serious about wanting to work with you. If you want it too we should make it happen.’

‘I don’t know, Carlos,’ she said. ‘We both know where it would lead to and I’m still not sure if that’s a good idea.’

With that, she left him, the Cuban sculptor, who had been Mister Cool on the boat but was now looking up at her like a lost puppy. A puppy with a cock that put a donkey to shame though.

On the beach, she chatted with Jeanne and Monique. The men, who had gone for a stroll, joined them shortly after as well. Where was Carlos, they asked. Louise explained to them that the Cuban hadn’t felt well. He had too much to drink, so he went back to the boat.

‘C’est vrai,’ Marc said. ‘Carlos can’t drink much. We know that. We saw it before.’

He was feeling good about it too, this cocky little man, who nevertheless still amused Louise. Look at him lying there on his side in the sand, with his bald head and fat belly, laughing at his friend who was so much more attractive and interesting.

Monique turned to her then and said: ‘Over the phone, you mentioned something about an English boy coming to stay with you?’

‘Yes. Alex. He is the son of my neighbors from back in the time when I lived in England.’

‘What’s his story?’

She told her friend about the plan she and her former neighbor Marge had come up with. How the boy was apparently being a pain in the neck for his parents and had dropped out of university after only a month. His parents worried that his attitude was all wrong. He was trying to lead a hippie life in a village in Suffolk, for Christ’s sake.

‘Why on earth did you agree on him staying with you then?’ Monique asked. ‘I mean, it sounds like you don’t even know him that well.’

‘First of all, we have plenty of space. He’ll stay in the annex, not in the house. Second, his mother says he’s handy. There’s always stuff to do and I’m tired of calling people who might not even show up. I hope Alex can help me out like that. His mother says he can.’

‘But you really don’t know him, do you?’

‘Actually, that is also part of the reason why I agreed to it. I might not know what he is like now, but I do remember him well. The last time I saw him was at his grandfather’s funeral, which is about five years ago. The time before that was when I was still married to Kevin. I remember Alex as a funny little kid. He seemed fond of me too. We took him to the London Zoo once and he also stayed with us over the weekend sometimes. You know, when his parents needed some quiet time.’

‘I still think it’s a bad idea,’ Monique said. She turned around, her perky breasts pointing upward now. Louise was still lost in memories.

‘I think I got him to join a judo club too.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes. I’m quite sure actually. I hadn’t discovered jiu-jitsu at the time and was quite fanatical about judo. I remember one weekend he was staying with us. It was beautiful weather and I spent hours teaching him moves in the garden. Later he joined a club in town if I’m not mistaken. God, I had completely forgotten about that. I wonder if he still practices.’

‘You can ask him soon,’ Monique said. ‘When did you say he was coming?’

Absentmindedly her fingertips scratched her neatly trimmed, blonde landing strip.

‘Tuesday morning. I’ve been preparing the annex for him. I even bought him a Playstation, although Rob says I’m crazy.’

‘What does he think of it? Has he met this boy before?’

‘No, he hasn’t,’ Louise said. ‘And at first, he didn’t like the idea at all. You know how he is. But I told him he has no vote in this one. He’s too often abroad and when he is home he is working too. I said I could use the company and then he stopped complaining.’

‘Men,’ Monique said.

‘Exactly.’

When they got back to the yacht Carlos was nowhere to be seen. Probably sleeping it off in one of the cabins, Marc said. They dried themselves with towels and got dressed. Francis asked Marc to pull up the anchor and as the boat moved away from Cap Taillat, Jeanne said she would go check on Carlos. Five minutes later she was back, saying that the Cuban was okay. He was indeed recovering downstairs in a cabin.

‘He also asked for you, Louise,’ she said. ‘He said he remembers the name of that book you were talking about.’

‘Can’t he tell her later?’ Marc asked, shaking his head in disbelief, but Louise got up and said, don’t worry, I’ll go. She went inside and then down some steps to the area where the cabins were located. A door stood ajar and lying on a bed was Carlos in his shorts and t-shirt.

‘There you are,’ he said.

‘Clever bastard,’ Louise said. ‘Which book are we supposed to be talking about?’

‘The most recent Murakami, ‘Killing Commendatore’.’

‘You’ve even thought of a name.’

‘Of course.’

Louise stood next to the bed. He sat up, looking at her again with that intense focus.

‘Do you want to talk about your work again?’ she asked as she sat down next to him.

‘No,’ he said and then they were kissing. His lips on hers, his tongue probing, a bit too aggressive for her taste, but in general not too bad. His hand reached out and touched her breast.

‘This is what I want,’ he whispered. ‘You.’

She pulled him toward her again so they could kiss some more. His hands were all over her body now. One in her hair and then on her back, the other on her breasts and going down over her belly. She let him, because she wanted this too, just as badly as he did. A thought of Rob crossed her mind, but she pushed it back. Too late now, too much passion and lust racing through her body. His fingers were on her bikini bottom and then underneath it. She turned her hips toward him and spread her legs wider. He began to caress her pussy, which was already wet. Her swollen clit, her lips and then a finger slipped inside. She moaned and put a hand between his legs, on that magnificent, enormous cock. She unzipped his shorts and lifted his hard dick out of the boxer shorts. God, how long had it been since she had had such a monster inside of her? Years! Before she got married to Rob, probably.

She could hardly get her fingers around his big penis and her hands were not particularly small. She grabbed it tight though and began to masturbate him. In seconds he was moaning, but he was too loud. She pressed her free hand on his mouth, shutting him up before someone came down to see what was happening here. In the meantime, she too was getting hotter and hotter. His fingers moved rhythmically over her wet pussy. His touch was good. If he continued like this she would come soon. The same was probably true for him if his facial expression was something to go on. His eyes were big, the expression in them filled with lust.

Then a female voice said something about a phone.

‘Where is my phone? I can’t find it.’

Jeanne! And she was close by too. Not outside on the sundeck, but down here somewhere and possibly on her way over to their cabin.

‘Oh, goddamned,’ Louise whispered.

Carlos said something similar, no doubt, but in Spanish. Quickly they pulled away from each other and rearranged their clothes. Just when the Cuban stretched out on the bed again and she was sitting by his side like a good girl, the door opened. Jeanne, asking her friend if he was feeling alright.

‘Don’t worry, Jeanne,’ the sculptor said, ‘I’m fine.’

‘Great. So which book are you two talking about?’

‘The most recent Murakami,’ Louise said.

‘Killing Commendatore,’ Carlos said at the same time.