“When we were kids, he was always up to some mischief. Usually innocent pranks, but occasionally we would get hauled down to the prefect’s office. We would be lectured in the grandest terms on our responsibilities as the next generation of Frenchman to uphold the traditions that made France great. Thibaud would even appear to pay attention. Then he would mention his father the judge on the bench in Paris, and we would be escorted to the boulangerie for a treat. Élas.”
“Do you think it’s too early to go to his place?”
“It is after noon, he should be up by now.”
Guy drove up the winding road that led out of the village, through lush vineyards to a pair of iron gates set in a long stone wall. They stood open. Guy drew in his breath sharply as he drove through the gates, excited at entering what had been the forbidden territory of his youth. The long lane led strait to the impressive chateau that sat on a rise above the property. The same yellow stone was used, but there the similarity to the village houses ended. The chateau had a central court flanked by wings that seemed to disappear into the distance. Great arched windows marched down the length of the wings, punctuated by niches occupied by sculptures. Guy drove along the curved drive and stopped in front of the central courtyard.
There, in a sunny spot in the center sat Thibaud. He rose from his chair and paraded across the court toward us. “Bienvenue a chez nous” he announced. “Mes chers amis.” He embraced us and kissed them in Gallic style.
“You are here at last. I was just having a petit dejeuner, but now that you’re here, we’ll have some wine. He led us back to his table and rang a small silver bell. An elderly gentleman appeared and was instructed by Thibaud to bring more chairs and some rosé. “The day is already warm and the rosé will be cold. How wonderful to see you each again. So are we an ‘item’?” He asked with one raised brow.
Alex admitted that Guy and he were, in fact, an ‘item’, having been together for two years.
“Splendid. My childhood friend has chosen well. I am a little disappointed, however, that I never got more acquainted with you, Alex.”
Alex agreed that he must have been about the only student at the college Thibaud hadn’t been intimate with.
“There were always some that did not hold my interest, at least not for more than one night.” Thibaud was incorrigible.
Guy and he caught up on local gossip in French. Guy promised to fill Alex in later. Alex was perfectly content to miss ninety percent of the conversation and enjoy the marvelous architecture of the house and the breathtaking view out over the valley. The very fine rosé was lovely, too.
A head peeked around a corner at the front of the courtyard. “Thibaud!”
Thibaud looked up. “Ah Claude, wait for me in the chamber.” The strapping Claude gingerly crossed the courtyard and went in a door on one side, looking back at Thibaud anxiously. Then to us, “If you will excuse me for a little while, I have to — how you say — settle things with the butcher’s delivery boy. Robert will see you to your room. We shall reconvene at, say, four for a swim? Robert will show you the way.”
Then from an upstairs window came a plea, “Thibaud.”
“And now, Claude awaits.”
Thibaud sauntered across to the same door Claude had used and disappeared.
“I’m guessing that’s the only butcher’s delivery boy that receives the ‘meat'” Guy smirked. We laughed and went toward the main entry to find Robert.
***
Guy and Alex had already dipped in the chateau’s swimming pool and were again drinking wine when a middle aged man appeared, still dressed as for business. He was indeed handsome and distinguished. “Bonjour. You must be Thibaud’s American friends. I am Henri, Thibaud’s worshipful slave. Welcome to our home.” His accent was elegant, his English perfect. He sat heavily on one of the chairs. “I’ve just returned from Paris where duty makes its demands. And where is Thibaud?”
We feigned ignorance.
“Then it must be the grocer’s boy or the butcher’s boy. Oh, yes, I know of his little friends. Entre nous, I am relieved. Thibaud is so demanding in the bedroom. I crave his attention, but it is easier on my ass if he has had some distraction earlier in the day. I thought after all these years his libido would abate. Élas, I have married a satyr. Of course, that is what attracted me in the first place.”
Thibaud and Claude emerged from a doorway. Thibaud was unabashed when he saw us observing him. He kissed and hugged Claude and sent him on his way with a pat on the ass.
“You see, it is the butcher’s boy today. If only he did not leave the sheets smelling of pate. Alors.
Thibaud crossed the space and plopped into a chair, feigning exhaustion.
“Was there enough for the butcher’s boy?” queried Henri.
“He said more than enough” smirked Thibaud.
“I meant in the household funds.”
“Barely enough for the generous tip I gave him.”
“You are too liberal with the locals, Thibaud. They will begin to expect it as their due.”
“Very well, next time I will penetrate him only half way.”
“Still too generous by half” rejoined Henri.
***
A stately woman crossed the terrace accompanied by a bevy of small dogs. She carried a parasol to stave off the sun and a scowl to stave off all mankind.
“A catamite convention?”
“Bonjour Maman. Alex, Guy, my mother” introduced Henri.
“As you wish. I have come to take my leave. I am going to Paris” she pronounced.
“But why, Maman? You’ve barely arrived a week ago.”
“In my day, when one of our station chose to ravish a servant or villager, we had the good taste to do it in the barn.”
“I’m sorry Maman. He did get a little vocal” defended Thibaud.
“Yes, yes he did. Though I was further surprised to hear it echoing from the other wing, as well. How you managed that” she glowered at Thibaud “is beyond me.” Thibaud caught Alex and I exchanging an embarrassed glance and nodded approvingly. “Nonetheless, I am off. Don’t worry about me, Robert will escort me to the train where I trust a First Class cabin is still available for the nobility.”
We all rose as she turned to leave.
“I’m not sure when it came to pass, but I’m sure all this exposed chest hair and bulging undergarments does not constitute proper attire for polite company. Good day, gentlemen.”
Henri gave her hand a kiss. Thibaud escorted her across the terrace, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She patted him gently on the cheek and was gone.
***
“She loves Thibaud more than me. Of course, I love Thibaud more than her, so perhaps it’s fair.”
“She just loves seeing you happy, dear Henri and I do my best to make you happy.”
“Seems to me you’re making yourself happy most of the time.”
“You were saying how you and Thibaud met” Guy prompted in an attempt to redirect the discussion to safer territory.
Thibaud returned and sat on the arm of Henri’s chair, kissing him gently on the forehead. “Oh I love this story — it’s all about me.”
“I was in Miami. Yes, I went all the way to the States to meet a Frenchman. I was visiting representatives from South America in Miami, people who were always late — and that from a Frenchman. Nonetheless, my business was not concluded by the weekend, which in Miami begins on Thursday at noon and does not end until Monday evening over drinks. Such a life. It makes the French seem productive.