Blitzed(116)

Both ignored me however, greeting their sons with excited hugs and loud kisses on their cheeks. They shifted from French to another language, which I could only assume was Romani, leaving me totally in the dark as to what was being said. From the facial expressions and tone of voice, it didn’t sound bad.

One of the women turned her eyes to me. I found her scrutiny unsettling, and I had to resist the urge to squirm under her gaze. "Donc ceci est le voleur qui a volé le c?ur de mon fils," she said, then smiled and in accented but clear English. "Welcome. I’m Syeira."

When she smiled, all the tension in her eyes evaporated, and I could see the similarities between her and her son. "Thank you. I must say that you both are stunning.”

They both laughed and one came over, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You’ll do well here," she said, patting my just-kissed cheek. "I am Charani, Francois’s mother."

I tried my best to discern any difference between the two women, but it was impossible. They were truly identical twins, with the only difference I could tell between them being the color of the blouses they were wearing underneath their open fronted cashmere tops. "Thank you both," I said in my best attempt at French. "It’s nice to meet you."

"It seems we must try our best with good English, and you must try your best with good French," Charani said softly, before giving her son a hug with one arm. "Come, it’s time for celebration."

I was grateful that they’d prepared some light fare. I’d more than feasted since living with Francois and Felix, and barely managed to maintain my weight even with the sex and exercise I’d been getting. Conversation flowed nice, and I began to feel a little more at ease.

Felix had told them about how we’d met, using French and Romani interchangeably while Francois kept me abreast of the conversation with whispered bits of English.

"They may have taken me captive, but they’ve certainly stolen me away from a life of drudgery and boredom," I added. I’d come to the conclusion quickly in Mexico, and knew that even if I was given the opportunity to go back to Los Angeles, I wouldn't. "The past two months have been the best in my life."

After the light meal, Francois took my hand. “It’s time to show you around," he reminded me. "Mother, Aunt, if you'll excuse us. Felix, you mind?“

Felix waved with good humor, and Francois led me outside. While the weather was milder than Paris, it was still winter, and the orange glow of the sunset in the sky lent enough warmth that I was comfortable. Francois led me to the barn, pausing at the large double doors. "My brother told you earlier that this is not a normal barn. Take a look inside."

It took me a while to understand what the collection of ropes, beams, and other things in the dimly lit cavernous barn was until I spied something hanging from a beam. "Are those gymnastic rings?"

Francois nodded. "Welcome to the place where our father taught my brother and I every physical skill needed to become who we are. This place was our training hall, our sparring center, and as much our classroom as the schools we went to. It’s also one of the few places that I’d routinely best Felix."

"Oh, why's that?" I asked, thinking that while Francois was different from Felix, I didn't find him deficient to his brother. Maybe it was just a case of the grass being greener, and Francois not being aware of his own strengths.

He took my question differently, though, his mouth tightening. "Felix has always been a bit larger than me, a bit stronger. But many of the skills that our father trained us in, that extra mass was a detriment."

“What’d you two do in here anyway?" I asked, looking into the shadows. "I wish I could see this in daylight."

"Tomorrow. Father never installed lights, saying that it was vital that we learn how to maneuver ourselves in darkness. It’s difficult at first, but you learn to use your other senses. Here, I’ll show you a little, for what you can see anyway.”

Francois stripped off his shirt in a single smooth motion, and with a happy grin took off across the barn. Jumping over a rope I hadn't even seen, he went up the beam in the middle arm over arm, nearly launching himself from hand grip to hand grip, using holds that I hadn't even realized what they were until he was hanging from them. With a final little leap, he grabbed a rope that was tightly stretched across the space, leaving his feet dangling a few feet above my head. "How’s that?"

"You move like a damn cat," I said, amazed. I came over and took his hands, surprised that they weren't shredded on the rope. I traced the red lines that had been caused by the material, amazed. "How'd you do that?"

"Twenty-three years of experience," Francois said. He clasped my hands in his and smiled. “But I have a feeling it won’t take you as long.”

"You expect me to be flipping around and doing all that?" I asked, flabbergasted. I was a rock and roll guitar player, not a member of Cirque De Soliel. “You’re crazy.”

"I've been called that a few times," Francois said with a chuckle, "but I didn't mean all of that. Just that you can enjoy this space too. In the meantime, I was thinking something more like this."

Francois pulled me in close and kissed me hard, his arms crushing me against his firm torso. His skin pressed against my hands, and his lips pressed against mine. He was warm, masculine, and strong. I had to admit, the display of physical ability he'd just done had done more than a little to my pulse, and the taste of him added to it, turning the warmth into a fire.