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| Kane |
I was usually never woken up by church bells, I thought. My eyes opened and I realized I wasn’t home. The flowery wallpaper and the old-fashioned furniture reminded me. I smiled.
Beside the loud church bells I also heard people. Something was going on outside. I sat up on my knees in the bed, pulled the curtain back and looked out on the square. The small town of Vézelay had been pretty quiet when I had arrived the day before, but now there was a farmers’ market happening right below the window of my hotel.
I chuckled. I jumped up out of bed, folded my morning wood into some shorts, picked out a T-shirt and put on some socks and shoes. With a big smile on my face I walked down past reception, outside into the buzz of people.
I couldn’t help but smile as I wandered around from stand to stand. Fruit and vegetables, fish, but also clothes were being sold. I listened to the melodic sounds of the French language everywhere. For all of the people around me, today was business as usual. But I was savoring every second.
Yesterday morning I had landed in Paris. I spent the day there, feeling pretty jetlagged, but amazed by the city. Parts of it were exactly as romantic as movies might suggest. But then other parts were different. Edgier, or dirtier. Or just very metropolitan and modern. As planned ahead of time, around 4.00 PM I had rented a car and travelled almost 3 hours south to the little town of Vézelay. About 500 inhabitants. I had been impressed with all of the medieval houses and buildings, it was like I had gone back in time. But I had also noticed what a quiet, small village it was, making it all the more random that I had travelled all the way over here from Los Angeles.
It was the first time I took a trip overseas all by myself, but for good reason. I was on a mission. I really had no game plan whatsoever, so I guess the main objective was to enjoy myself. But maybe I would come up with a plan to fulfill my mission while I was here. Though for now I was embracing the randomness of this small town farmers’ market.
On my right I noticed a stand that had a few older women crowding it. My French was little to non-existent, but their tones suggested they were very excited about something as they talked to each other as well as to whomever was working the stand. As I got closer, I noticed him.
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| Fabien |
When he looked my way, I realized I had stood still as I observed the scene, most of all him.
“Bonjour!”, he said cheerfully.
“Bonjour”, I repeated.
As if automatically, I took another step towards the stand. I looked at the small, white cheeses in front of me.
“Un chèvre aujourd’hui?”, he asked me.
I looked back up. His smile was wide. The ladies to my right were still sort of crowded together. I noticed they each had a white plastic bag in their hand.
“I-I’m sorry”, I finally blurted out, “I’m still working on my French.”
His eyebrows raised.
“Is no problème, monsieur”, he said softly with a French accent I had seen mocked on many a TV show. When really, he was speaking a second language and I wasn’t. In his country. I deserved the mockery.
“Is cheese”, he said, “from goat.”
“OK cool”, I said. I was in awe of his beauty.
“This”, he pointed to a cheese with a knife, “is Le Dôme du Vézelay. Is the local cheese. I advise. You like to try?”
He handed me a platter with little bites of the cheese. I took one off and put it in my mouth. It melted on my tongue.
“Oh my God!”, I said, louder than I anticipated.
That was heaven. So soft and creamy. A subtle taste at first, but then turned spicy.
“You like, yes?”
I nodded heavily.
“Can I take… three?”
“Yes of course, monsieur.”
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| Fabien |
“You like Vézelay?”, he asked, to keep conversation as he wrapped up my cheese.
“Yes, it’s beautiful”, I said.
“OK”, he said, smiling. “Is only small town.”
I nodded. He was probably curious why I would choose to come here.
“Basilique Sainte Marie-Madeleine”, he suddenly said, as he pointed to the top of the hill the town was built on. “I advise.”
He was so nice, giving me recommendations like I was a tourist who accidentally found my way here. I was wondering if he was always this nice or it was because he was fascinated to have a foreigner buying cheese from him. I imagined it didn’t happen often.
He put the plastic bag with my cheeses on the counter and told me how much I had to pay in Euros. “This cheese is very good with Chablis wine”, he said as I gave him the money.
“Oh thank you”, I replied, “where can I get that?”
There was something mischievous about his smile this time.
“Restaurant Relais du Morvan”, he replied. “I advise. For dinner.”
He pointed in a different direction than before. Although I was sure there was a way to just buy wine in a store around here, he made me curious.
“OK. I’ll go there for dinner”, I said. “What was the name?”
He took out a pen and wrote the name of the restaurant on the plastic bag and then handed it to me.
“Thanks!”, I said.
“What is your name?”, he asked as he extended his hand.
“Kane”, I said.
“Fabien”, he said as we shook hands. “Welcome to Vézelay, Kane.”
I chuckled. The way he said my name turned me on.
“Merci”, I said, showing off one of the few French words I knew.
Only as I turned away I noticed there were two people waiting in line behind me and Fabien immediately addressed the woman behind me. He had been so nice to me, and because he was a young, attractive man, I walked away from the encounter as if I had been flirted with. I decided that was unlikely.
I walked the length of the rest of the market, watching people go about their business. It was just a regular Wednesday morning for them. The very last stand was someone selling wine.
“Bonjour”, I started.
The balding man, who looked in his late 50s, early 60s, repeated my greeting.
“I was wondering, do you by any chance sell Chablis?”
He looked at me with a frown.
“Chablis?”, he asked me, his pronunciation different, more French than mine.
It was clear he did not speak a word of English. I had gotten lucky with Fabien earlier. The bald man pulled out several different bottles that all said Chablis on the label. I randomly picked one and pointed at it.
“Combien?”, he asked.
“One bottle, please.”
He held up one finger. I nodded and said “Yes!”
He typed in the amount of Euros on a little calculator and showed me. We got there in the end.
As I walked back towards the hotel, I saw Fabien talking and laughing with a female customer. She was giggling and blushing, paying attention to his every word. On some level, I knew I had been mistaking friendliness for flirting, but I had to say, I had enjoyed our conversation. As well as standing close to him and watching him. I wanted to casually show him I had bought the bottle of wine as I walked past, but he didn’t even look my way.
Back in my room, I put two of the cheeses in the minibar to keep them chilled. It was still early morning, so I left the wine for now. But I took one of the little cheeses and took a bite out of it. So good. In three bites it was gone.
I decided to check out the rest of the town as well as this basilique that Fabien had mentioned. I was pretty sure a basilique would be a cathedral? Or some church-y building? As I had approached Vézelay in my rental car the day before, I had seen a large building on top of the hill, but my hotel had been at the bottom of the hill. I was looking forward to checking ot the town today.
I had seen the impressive fortress walls as I had entered the town, letting me know I was entering some medieval establishment. Walking up the hill, the theme continued. It was so beautiful. I wondered if he had walked in this exact spot. Maybe he was walking around here now. If only I knew what he looked like.
It was an easy climb through a narrow paved street, with shops, bars, as well as residences to each side. It was about 71 degrees (22 Celsius) and just a pleasant June day.
I was in awe by the basilique. It wasn’t as massive as the Notre Dame or as pretty as Sacre Coeur in Paris, but you could tell it had been here for so long, it was wild to think about. I googled ‘basilique vézelay’ as I had obviously forgotten the name. It was an abbey constructed in the 12th century. UNESCO World Heritage list. Of course.
I walked back down, sat down halfway for some coffee and breakfast. Staff had a hard time with English here too, but we managed. After I finished my food, I started thinking about him. What would he look like? What were the odds that he still lived here? Or moved back? And most importantly, how would I find out?
I took the note out of my pocket. I didn’t have much to go on. The more I thought about it, the more useless this whole trip seemed. Not wanting to be sad, I put the note away, finished my coffee and walked all the way down to the hotel.
I laid in my bed in the middle of the day, even though my jetlag wasn’t all that bad. I saw the bottle of Chablis on the table in the room and thought about Fabien. He spoke English quite well. Maybe he could help me? I wasn’t even sure if he lived here or just had his cheese stand here. I would likely have to wait for him to return next week or something.
By the end of the afternoon, I took out and ate the third and final cheese from the plastic bag in the minibar, this time with a glass of the white wine. It was so good. I didn’t expect to eat all three in one day and now regretted my own greed. I looked at the empty bag.
RESTAURANT RELAIS DU MORVAN
I smiled. I Googled it and it was walking distance from the hotel, as I imagined most things in this town were. I was guessing it was his friend’s restaurant or something. Why else would he want me to go there instead of buy wine from any of the shops I saw on my way up the hill?
I remembered the evenings were reasonably chilly, so I wore jeans and a T-shirt as I walked to the restaurant in literally one minute. It was a cute little place with tables out in front and some lighting that made it very cozy to sit. About half of the tables outside were already occupied but I spotted a table in the corner close to the building that would be just fine.
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| Fabien |
I looked up and Fabien walked towards me. He was still wearing the tight black T-shirt, with this time a white waist-down apron. A pen and a notepad stuck out the front pouch. This time I could see his pronounced chest covered by the black fabric.
“You work here?”, I asked incredulously.
He hugged me and kissed my cheek, and then my other cheek. The second time I kissed back, feeling his skin on my lips. My cock thickened. He smelled like cologne. I was caught off guard by his intimacy at first, but I was all smiles once he stood back.
“Yes!”, he said. “Mama and papa have farm with the goats. I help with, um… markets.”
He made a gesture that got me to understand there were several markets in the region where he would have the cheese stand. I nodded so he knew I understood him.
“But here, I work more of the days.”
“Wow, pretty cool!”
We stood in silence for a few seconds.
“Come, come!”, Fabien said as he gestured for me to follow him.
He showed me to the exact table I’d had my eye on. He pulled out a chair for me and had me sit down. He cleared the glasses and the plate opposite from me.
“I come back with Chablis!”
I smiled. He remembered.
Soon, he did return with a chilled bottle. He showed me the label, but it said ‘Chablis’ and more French words. I just nodded. He opened the bottle in front of me, giving me time to thank him for the cheese.
“It was very good”, I said.
“Good! Me happy”, he replied as he poured me just a little bit of wine.
He looked at me, smiling and waiting. I took the glass and drank some of it.
“Is good?”
“Yes, very nice.”
Then he poured me a full glass, after which he put the bottle in an ice bucket across from me.
Fabien handed me a menu and then walked off to check on some of the other tables. Only now I noticed he wore blue jeans. His wide thighs and round ass were much more interesting than the menu.
So he wrote the name of the restaurant he worked at on my plastic bag. Maybe he wanted to see me again. Or maybe he was playing me like a fiddle, making more of my money. Either way, I had a great evening in this little restaurant. I was afraid it would be weird to have several courses all by myself, but it really wasn’t. I was just happy to watch Fabien run around, and he checked up on me often. I contemplated telling him my story and asking him for help.
After the main course, he rolled up a table with cheeses on it.
“What you like?”
“How many can I try?”
“How many you like?”
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t know, which are your favorites?”
He laughed. He proceeded to cut off pieces of a few cheeses. When my little plate was full with 5 cheeses he set it in front of me. He winked at me and rolled the table away.
“Enjoy!”
Again, the flavors were like magic. All so different. I did like the softer, whiter cheeses the most. After the cheeses, I still got dessert, rounding out my four courses. I felt full, but so very good. When I asked for the bill and Fabien brought it, he squatted down next to me.
“You like the food?”
“Yes, it was amazing. Thanks so much for the recommendation.”
He smiled. I made a decision.
“Would you mind if I stuck around here until you are done with work? I’d like to ask for your advice.”
“Yes, of course!”
He was so friendly.
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| Malik |
“Malik! Laisse ça!”, he shouted at his co-worker as he waved him over.
I was introduced to Malik, the cute other waiter with the tan skin, the very short black hair and the stubble. When he noticed I didn’t speak French, he turned to Fabien.
“Malik want to know where you are from”, Fabien said.
“I am from the United States”, I told Malik, “Los Angeles.”
“États Unis”, Fabien translated.
Malik lit a cigarette and frowned at me. He seemed to ask me what I was doing here without using any words.
“Actually”, I turned to Fabien, “that’s why I would like your advice.”
So I told them the story.
Can’t wait for future chapters.
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