Chapter Two

Ms. Millot

She appeared in the bar as if in a dream, wearing an attractive and fashionable light blue silk dress. One moment I was alone in my bar checking liquor inventories, the next moment she stood before me, having entered quietly through the front door. I thought she was the prettiest woman I had ever seen. I immediately noticed how exotic she looked, with long dark hair, brown eyes and a curvy figure. When we first met, neither of us uttered a word. We just stared at each other from across the room, caught up in the moment. It lasted a few seconds or a few minutes, I have no way of knowing, mesmerized as I was by her sheer physical beauty. Sexually attracted to her from the start, my eyes lingered far too long on her breasts. To stop myself from raking over her body further, I grabbed a job application, assuming she was responding to my ad on Craig’s List.

“Are you here to apply for the waitress position?” I asked.

She nodded. I gave her a clipboard and a pen and ushered her to the couch in my back office. I left her alone for a moment to fill out the form and went back to the bar. When I poured myself a glass of Perrier, I noticed my hands were trembling from the encounter. I had interviewed several attractive women over the last few years. Why had this particular woman affected me in such a visceral way?

I took a deep breath to compose myself and went back to my office. She had finished filling out the application and was waiting patiently for me to return. I tried to remain professional, despite her attractiveness, and conducted the interview sitting on the chair opposite the couch. She smiled and gave me a deep look in the eyes when she handed me the form. Before I started staring at her breasts again, I looked down at the application. Even her name was exotic.

“Your name is Anne-Marie Millot?” I asked. “Am I pronouncing it correctly?”

“No, Monsieur. It’s Mill-o. The T is silent…”

The sound of her French accent washed over me like a warm breeze. It’s hard to describe, but I felt refreshed listening to her voice. It soothed and aroused me at the same time. I wanted her to be naked and whispering her name in my ear. Anne-Marie Millot.

“I see. Well, my name is Mark. Mark Wilson. I’m the owner and manager here… You speak English very well, Ms. Millot.”

“Merci.”

“So, you’re from France?”

“Oui, Monsieur. I was raised in Nice, along the Mediterranean Sea. My parents have a home there. Have you been to France?”

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“You must go there one day, Monsieur.”

I nodded, lost in a fantasy of Anne-Marie laying in the sand, topless, the sun soaking into her skin. I shook my head slightly, trying to remove the inappropriate image from my mind.

“What brings you to my club, Ms. Millot?”

“I came to the US to study English, but now my classes are over. I have one final month