For most recent chapters, please link to "Paris Changes Everything."

Trish was lost.  Not just lost in Paris, but lost in life.  She walked along the Seine, hoping she'd soon find a bridge to get her over to the Left Bank.  She had no idea whether she was walking toward the Sorbonne or away from it.

Everything felt as if it was in reverse and she had landed in an alternate universe, where part-time Zumba instructors/full-time art students were elevated to princesses.  Well, if not a princess, then a super-model.  And she did not want to be a super-model no matter how glamorous it looked in the pages of Vogue.  She wanted to be the one behind the camera.  The serious one.  The artist.  The one who took the photographs!

Still, if she was honest with herself, she knew she wasn't really sure what she wanted to be.  Some days she just wanted to stay at home and read fashion magazines and some days she just wanted to teach Zumba classes and let loose on the dance floor.  One thing she did know for sure was that she did not want to be Monsieur Clicquot's It Girl.  Not matter how charming and convincing he could be.

Still, she felt lost.  Her mind was in a fog of confusion.  

And that's when she saw it.  The Eiffel Tower.  It emerged out of the landscape like a beacon.  

And this is when Trish took a deep cleansing breath, filling her lungs with Zumba Love and the aroma of all things Parisian, and then she flashed upon what she needed to do!

To be continued....
P.S.  What has Trish decided to do?  Any suggestions?

The Dangers of Texting

Chapter Five

Lucy was happy for Trish.  Really.  Somehow, within three minutes of entering the LeCave, she had managed to find herself an adorable Frenchman.  And not only this, but the man looked a whole like like Clive Owen (except he was French).  Plus, he came with a bottle of champagne--Veuve Clicquot! He placed it gently on the table for Trish, Isabelle and Lucy to admire.

"Merci beaucoup," Isabelle smiled and then looked sideways at Trish, as if to say how did you manage this!?

"Meet Jean-Pierre," Trish announced, taking a seat.  "He's my new best friend!"

Jean-Pierre smiled at Trish.  He probably didn't understand what she was saying.  In fact, he didn't seem to speak much English, but it was clear that the man was smitten and completely charmed by her friend.  Ah, love, Lucy mused.

She remembered those days.  How long had it been since she felt like that?
Oh, that's right.  It was about ten minutes ago.
Just before they entered the Parisian club.
Just before she checked her phone.
Just before she received the text from boyfriend, Peter!
She kept replaying it in her mind.  It said:

ENOUGH ALREADY!

What did it mean?  Was he tired of her?  Was he annoyed by all her friendly texts from France?
Had he met another girl while back home in New York City?
And was he biking with this new girl, the way they used to bike together?
Despite the popping of the champagne cork and the laughter and the music and ooh la la all around, Lucy couldn't help but remember her early days with Peter.

Their life had been so full of romance and love and fun and now, it was enough.  

Enough, already!?

"Earth to Lucy!" Trish laughed holding up her champagne flute for a toast.

Lucy quickly lifted her glass, and pretended to be happy.

Isabelle made the toast in French, "a vos amours!"  

And then Trish, Jean-Pierre, Isabelle and Lucy all took a sip.  

"Yum!" Trish said, turning to Isabelle.  "So, what did we just toast to, anyway?"

Isabelle smiled, "a vos amours means to your loves."

And this is when Lucy began to cry, because her love had had enough.  

 And suddenly, she felt as if her heart was frozen.

.....to be continued.

P.S.  I would like to have Isabelle and Michael (the boy in their photography group) have a funny encounter during their next class.  Any suggestions?

Paris Changes Everything

Chapter Four
Cinderella's Shoe

          Once inside Le Cave, Trish pushed her way past the dimly lit tables and dance floor, leaving her friends Lucy and Isablelle to claim a table for them, while she plowed her way through the crowd and toward the bar. 

            Now that she was on terra firma, or at least on a level wooden floor, Trish felt a bit more confident.  Plus, she had her trusty Nikon with her and that always made her feel happy, even powerful.

        And so, she did her best to get the attention of the bartender.  She leaned forward stretching her long torso over the width of the bar.  She was so close to a bottle of wine and some glasses, she could practically reach over and pour the wine by herself.  She waved to the bartender at the other end of the old-fashioned zinc counter and called out excusez moi, Monsieur!  A couple of guys looked at her, but why?  She was speaking French and she didn’t make the grave error of calling him garçon or “boy.”  She’d read enough travel guides to know not to do that.  Maybe they were just jealous that she was a confident American woman who knew how to get what she wanted.  And with this thought, Trish decided to just reach over and grab a bottle.  She was going to pay for it, of course, she just thought, this would help the bartender out.  After all, he was obviously too busy.  Maybe they’ll even give her a part time job here, she thought.  After all, they could use some extra help. 

            And that’s when it happened.  Somehow, she reached a little too far and while she was able to grab the bottle of white, she couldn’t seem to find her footing back down to the floor and for an embarrassing moment, she just kind of hung there over the bar, with her feet dangling.  And then, her left shoe fell off with a loud clunk somewhere behind her on the floor. 

            “Damn,” she whispered, her face turning red.

            “I am thinking I have your shoe, Madamoiselle,” 

            Trish turned around to find the actor Clive Owen standing behind her with her shoe in his hand.  Okay, it wasn't actually Clive Owen, but he could have been Clive Owen's twin brother.  

For a moment, Trish was lost in a confusion of thoughts.  This guy was so handsome, it made her dizzy.  What had he said to her?  I am thinking I have your shoe?  And then, the realization dawned on her.  

He indeed had her shoe!           

         He stood behind her, with this index finger hooked inside the back of her pink sparkly pink platform pump and smiled at her, with a sly look of triumph, as if he had just moved his chess piece forward and wondered how she planned to protect her queen from this unexpected turn of events!

And so the games began.

To be continued....

P.S.  I would like to give Lucy (the shy friend with the boyfriend in America) an interesting complication...any suggestions?