Five
“You're
amazing,” JC said as they settled onto the backseat of the car. Lance nodded to
the driver, who began to pull out into the traffic of the airport. “You…you
sound like you were born here!”
Lance
laughed and pulled JC to snuggle against him. “Hardly. Wait until you hear a
native person speaking French. I definitely sound like some second-year high
school student.”
“I
DID hear a native speaker, and you sounded just fine. He obviously understood
you enough to get us through Customs pretty damn quick!” JC picked at a fold of
his jeans as they stretched across his knee. “Yet another talent.”
“I
enjoyed learning languages. It was about all I was good at in school, except
maybe math. I was good at the math stuff.” Lance chuckled. “You know, many
people who enjoy math and science aren't really into the arts. I was one of
those rare exceptions.”
“I
never liked math.” JC wrinkled his nose. “I lived for art class. And history.”
“Well,
there is a ton of art and history here in France, and I promise NO math.”
The
hour seemed to fly by. JC couldn't keep from staring at the beautiful
countryside they were driving through. Finally, though, the driver pulled the
car up through a set of iron gates and down a long driveway. The car stopped
and JC got out and stretched. “So…are we in the guesthouse or something?” He
looked up at the huge stone building in front of them. “A castle guesthouse…it
doesn't get more romantic than that!”
“How
about a castle? Is that romantic?” Lance came up behind JC and put his arms
around his waist. JC whirled around to stare at him.
“What?
We're staying HERE?”
“Sure.
It's not really a castle. More like a…manor, or something.” Lance smiled. “Is
that okay?”
“You
said a house,” JC retorted.
“This
WAS someone's house.”
“No,
a house is like…a house. Like with a picket fence and a yard and a dog or
something.” JC looked around. “I don't see a fence OR a dog.”
“I'm
sure we could find you a fence AND a dog, if it means that much to you,” Lance
teased. “C'mon, let's go in.”
JC
followed Lance to the front door of the building. It was opened before they
could even grasp the knocker. “Monsieur Bass, Monsieur Chasez. We've been
expecting you,” a man said in lightly accented English. “I'm Henri, the
butler.”
“Hello,
Henri,” Lance said. JC could only nod.
“If
you'll follow me, Gentlemen.” Henri stepped aside so they could enter. “Your
bags will be attended to.” He started up a staircase. “You will have the east
and middle wings to do with as you please. The staff and kitchens occupy the
west wing.” Henri opened a set of double doors. “And here is your suite.”
JC
and Lance stared at the beautiful blue and cream set of rooms. There was a
large bedroom as well as a sitting room and private bath. “Wow,” JC whispered.
“The
house itself is old, but it has been fitted with all the modern amenities,”
Henri explained. “Is it to your satisfaction?”
“This
is even better than what the real estate agent told me,” Lance replied. “Are
you happy with it, Josh?”
“Amazing,”
JC could only say, and Lance smiled.
“Thank
you, Henri.”
“Would
you like dinner served in the main dining room, Monsieur?” Henri asked.
“No…I
think all we'll need is a light dinner…perhaps here in the suite?” Lance asked.
Henri nodded.
“I
believe the cook was preparing to make some sandwiches for the staff…I'll have
her tray some up for you, as well as some soup and beverages.” Henri bowed
slightly and left the suite, closing the doors behind him.
Lance
turned to JC, a broad grin crossing his face. “This is surreal. Even I didn't
imagine something like this.”
“I
feel like I'm in a history book.” JC threw himself onto the chaise lounge.
“It's like a dream!”
“I
think it will be like a dream,” Lance said softly. JC blushed and slowly sat
up. “A whole month in our own castle. We're lords of our manor, and we can do
whatever we want.” Lance came to sit next to JC. “And money is no expense,
Josh. Whatever you want, you tell me. What's mine is yours.”
JC
kissed him, pulling him down to lay next to him. Lance's hands were beginning
to wander up to unbutton JC's shirt when there was a knock on the door. JC
groaned and pushed back slightly. “Dinner?”
“Probably
our bags,” Lance said. “I made sure that the real estate agent knew about us,
Josh…that we're a couple. I didn't want to freak out the staff. I have a
feeling we can be ourselves here.”
JC
got up and went to answer the door. A good-looking young man stood in the
hallway with their suitcases. He said something in French, and JC just stared
at him. “Uh…”
“He
said it's our bags, and where did we want them,” Lance said, bouncing up off
the lounge. He rattled something off in French. The man blushed as he
recognized Lance, stammered a thank you, and lugged the bags towards the
bedroom. The young man made a second trip from the hall, bowed slightly, and
darted out of the suite. “Now…where were we?” Lance asked, leaning against the
closed door and pulling JC against him.
“Our
dinner will be here soon,” JC said.
“But
there's so many things we can do between now and then,” Lance said, grinning as
he tugged at the buttons of JC's shirt.
