A Story: L' hotel Ho in Paris

So posting all these photos of Paris reminds me of the last time I was there (these are not from that trip). I went with two of my male friends and we all stayed in the same room together (after all, all we were doing was sleeping there---or trying to, since T snored out of control it was difficult---ok ok kiddng T! XO) in this nice little hotel just outside the Latin Quarter.

My friends had never been there before, but since I had, I didn't want to do all the usual tourist things. So we came and went on our own a lot. Well, of course there were men that worked at the hotel who just happened to notice me and notice that I was staying with two men and not hanging out with them all the time.

Being the friendly American that I am, I ended up chatting with two of the men on a nightly basis when I'd come back from whatever I was doing, alone. Both of them worked at the hotel. They were friends. Nadir, and well, I can't remember the other guy's name now so I'll call him Adel. Nadir was VERY handsome. Like, really nice looking and very sexy. Ugh. Bad news. And he was very charming and pushy. Double ugh.

Anyway, they were very curious as to my sleeping arrangements (I just let them wonder), had the impression from my accent that I was from Sweden (???huh???) and wanted to know if I married a Muslim, would I be ok with my children being raised Muslim? (You can see where this is going...) I think my answer was...I don't know...

Well. One especially sweet night, I came back all happy from seeing a lovely chamber concert in a cathedral nearby, and Nadir happened to be hanging around the lobby by himself. We chatted for awhile and then when I got up to go to my room (my friends were out at some nightclub of which I was not part of "the club") he walked with me to the elevator and then he made his move.

He kissed me. I mean REALLY kissed me. And I let him. Hey, it's Paris after all...what's the harm? So we get in the elevator and he steps back and takes his finger and runs it along my neck and says in the most sexy voice (and of course that dammed accent) "Brenda, I want to make love to you"

GASP! Oh no. Stuck in the elevator with beautiful man (with great name I must say) in Paris while friends won't be back for hours. What should I do??? I stared into his deep eyes and he tried to kiss me again. I let him, but didn't really kiss back this time.

Hey. What ever happened to taking me out for dinner or even just a few drinks, or even, geeze, I'd settle for a bottle of wine along the Seine (ah...spent many hours there with Hamid...boyfriend from school there...sigh...great story for another post). But just kissing me and expecting me to sleep with you? Well, I DO have standards. Not much (especially recently...heavy sigh...when will I learn?) but some.

So I didn't sleep with him (am just now kicking myself, thinking, well, what were you THINKING? silly woman). Boy, was he mad. I guess not too many women must turn him down (and I could understand why). He was indignant and standoffish with me the rest of the time I was there.

Of course his friend Adel was happy as a lark, because now he tried to play the sweet one. Talking to me like I was actually a real person, showing interest in getting to know me, and of course, not attractive to me in the least. But nice enough. Somehow he managed to get my phone number from me, and actually called me when I got home.

Adel and Nadir exchanged snotty words one night, over me, and Nadir stomped away. It was all I could do not to laugh. Really. I mean, neither one of them had any sort of chance with me. After all, I DO live an ocean away.

Well, when my friends found out about Nadir and my refusal, they were disappointed. "Why didn't you just SLEEP with him?" asked D. He was aghast that I'd passed up the chance to have wild sex with a gorgeous man in Paris. I think it was more that he wasn't getting any, and well, if one of could, then he wanted that. LOL. Silly men.

When we all got home, D and T had decided to call me the Hotel Ho. How nice (I've known them since 6th grade---so they are allowed). BUT I DIDN'T even sleep with him! I protested. But it does make for a charming story. Now I wonder if I had...well, never mind ;)