Richard looked at his watch. “Ten more minutes until the train leaves. I think it should be okay.”
“Ten more minutes? Chouette!(1) I’ll have time to buy my Voici(2), Charlotte replied, as their taxi was stopping at the taxi-station in the Annecy railway station.
“Are you kidding me? You don’t have time to do anything but grab your suitcase, find the platform where the train to Paris is, and walk down it to our car.”
“But what am I going to do for the four-and-a-half-hour trip? You’ll be busy with your laptop or your cell phone and I’ll be bored!” she pouted.
Richard laughed, unloading their suitcases, “It’s Sunday evening, Darling! They’re not working in California on Sunday afternoons, so maybe I will entertain you?” The exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows made her giggle. “And anyway, you had plenty of time to buy your Voici in La Clusaz”, he said as an afterthought, the name of the magazine accompanied by a disgusted smirk. “But Madame was too busy skiing with her friend by day and gossiping with her by night!”
“Well, we weren’t together for much more than twenty-four hours and it was delightful to see Babeth so happy. And she seems to get on very well with Will’s sister. Have you noticed what a cutie he is with the two of them? It’s hard to believe he’s the same connard I met four months ago.”
Richard chuckled, “Well, he did surprise the Hell out of me that evening! But Babeth seems very good for him; I have rarely seen him so relaxed. I just hope the long-distance relationship isn’t too hard for them.”
“Babeth told me it is becoming more and more painful to take him to the Gare du Nord(3), but that may be coming to an end this summer. Charles and Jane will soon be moving to… Neverland?”
“Netherfield, Honey,” he chuckled. “Bing is no Peter Pan!”
“Well, peu importe,(4)” she waved his teasing away. “The point is that William may have one more reason to come to live in Rueil with her. It appears that your little cousin wants to come and study in Paris next year; she and Babeth are conspiring so that Georgie comes to live with her – or her and William, to be precise.”
“Indeed!” he replied, his eyebrows raised. “Well, Billy Boy doesn’t stand a chance! Which car are we in? One or two?” he added in a more matter-of-fact tone.
“One, we have seats #13 and 14.”
The sight of her bottom narrowly enclosed in a long jean skirt caught his eye; the fact that it had become eye-level with him (since she was climbing the three high steps of the car in front of him) made a lusty smile flourish on his face; the lack of any knickers’ lines made him conclude on the thong-ish nature of her underwear; this last realisation made him completely unaware of her answer. He simply followed her.
“Ah!” Charlotte heaved a satisfied sigh, resting her head on her headrest and closing her eyes, “I do so like the première(5).”
Richard placed their anoraks with their suitcases in the rack above their heads, sat by his fiancée and leaned towards her to kiss softly her lips. “You’re such a Princess!”
“Well, my father is a notable de province, is he not?”
“Sure, your father is a member of the local gentry; and you’ve always been such a darling, sweet, proper and obedient daughter…” he replied ironically.
“Speaking of respectable behaviour, what did you mean exactly by ‘entertaining me’? May I expect something new?” she asked impishly.
“Charlotte! People might understand English… There were a lot of my compatriots in La Clusaz,” he whispered to her, discreetly looking around if anyone seemed to be listening to them.
“And so what? Fais pas ton coincé(6). You’re so roast-beef(7) sometimes!” Her tone was low but adamant; true there was a middle-aged woman sitting across the aisle, but even if, by chance, she understood English, Charlotte couldn’t believe that she would be shocked by what she had said.
“I am not repressed, just wait until we’re home; I just don’t want everyone to know what position we’ve used or not, that is all.”
“Okay,” she agreed, back-pedaling a little, “but why should we have to wait until we’re home?”
Richard looked at her. The wickedness of her smile told him she was serious! “Honey, I can hardly take you here and now. Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think the SNCF(8) approves of this kind of behaviour!”
“Hmm, hmm,” was the only reply he received, which he, incorrectly, attributed to her agreement with his rational argument.
“Are you still hungry?” Charlotte asked, putting away the remnants of their SNCF sandwiches in the small dustbin on the panel, by Richard’s side. She was leaning over his thighs and – almost – inadvertently brushed his groin with her hand on sitting back. She felt him stiffen somewhat, and her wicked smile re-appeared – internally this time. Managing to keep it inside, she shivered then crossed her arms over her torso and rubbed them.
“Nope, thanks. Are you cold?”
“Yes I am. They always put the air con temperature too low in winter and too warm in summer! Don’t you think it is cold?”
Richard had discarded his sweater when Charlotte had gone to the bar-car to buy their ‘dinner’. The tiredness of their day on the slopes made him a little sleepy, and the idea of a warmer environment was an attractive one. “We can use my anorak as a blanket. What do you think?”
“That’s a good idea, I’ll get it!” she said, standing up in the aisle and checking quickly that their neighbour was already sleeping (a usual happening in the last Annecy-Paris train of the day).
Charlotte’s height made it easy enough to reach it, but, sensing his eyes on her body, she overacted a little and stretched as tall as she could. As her cotton fitted tee-shirt rose with her movement, she felt the cool air on her navel; she also felt an unusual hardening of her nipples, due to the brush of the fabric against her bare skin. Even though she was small breasted, Charlotte's love for lingerie, as well as her profession, compelled her to always wear a bra. She knew enough of her lover to be certain he wouldn't miss her sudden lack of one. Her wicked smile reappeared and she hid it again. She had not only purchased food during her last absence…
After sitting back, she raised the armrest between them to settle against Richard’s body. Snuggling in his embrace, she let him install their wrap around them, insisting that the cloth cover her up to the shoulders. When he had finished, she had his right arm behind her head, his hand hanging above her torso, while her left hand was resting on his thigh. She checked with a slight move of her elbow that her little play-acting hadn’t been for naught. Well, from the hardness it encountered, it seemed it had worked…
Richard tried to resist; he really tried; but the awareness of her right breast under her tee-shirt, right below his hand, sans bra, was too attractive for his already heated libido. Against his will, he felt his major-finger start to brush lightly the fabric, at first randomly drawing loops and lines, then, as it discovered the bulge it was looking for, purposely drawing flower after flower, each centred on the increasingly harder and bigger prominence. By the tinny movements of Charlotte’s head against his neck, he knew his ministrations were justly appreciated. He had to say that, so far, she had otherwise remained very quiet, much more silent than what he was used to.
Soon enough, he started to resent the fabric for existing. What he wanted, what he really wanted, was to touch her. He couldn’t feel and caress to his satisfaction at this moment; and if his satisfaction was something that wouldn’t be completed anyway, he was now much keener on the idea of making hers complete if he could. Yet this completion would probably require some skin-to-skin contact…
Charlotte’s delight in having her plan succeed soon vanished, overflowed by the tides of pleasure Richard’s fingers were creating in her. She had closed her eyes, hoping to appear asleep to a potential passer-by. She was also trying to maintain her current very low volume of moans, since she wanted him to continue – et, putain!(9), how she wanted it – and she knew he would stop if she became louder. She nonetheless couldn’t refrain a gasp when she felt his so-far inert left hand find a way under the hem of her tee-shirt. His palm was cool on her warm stomach, and she shivered; the heat difference being only second to the powerful yearning for his hand which soon enough caressed her neglected left breast. She clamped her legs closed, feeling the wetness there, trying, and failing, to appease the intense ache for him. Her sighs became louder as she felt his thumb and forefinger roll the tit, then pinch it. Her breathing became erratic and her grasp on his thigh tightened. The rubbing of her own thighs, one against the other, became insistent; yet it only reminded her that he was not there and not likely to be in the next moments.
Richard felt Charlotte becoming reckless and a combination of his male pride and his love for her relished in his ability to, once again, drive her out of her mind. She stretched against his torso – to allow him better access or just because she couldn’t remain quiet any longer, he didn’t know – and he took this opportunity to relinquish the breast he had been busy with since the beginning and lower his hand behind her back. Without neglecting her other nipple, he grasped her buttock while she was once again undulating against him. She was almost sitting on his lap now. The small of her back was rolling with the rhythm of her imminent climax, rubbing his cock more and more frequently. He could hear and see that their games under the anorak were becoming more and more obvious, yet he couldn’t stop. He threw a look at their neighbour who still seemed asleep on the other side of the aisle. Hopefully, she would remain thus a while longer… He felt Charlotte’s body stiffen against him and heard their mixed groans – her and his fulfilment coming from her reaching her release.
Coming back to Earth, Charlotte smiled broadly but refrained from commenting on her victory. She checked on her right and saw that, in her sleep, their travel companion looked unaware of the sensual experiment that had happened across the aisle. Then, she shifted slightly and looked up at Richard; she saw his eyes were closed, his face a combination of satisfaction and frustration. “Je t’aime, Mon coeur.”
“I love you too, Honey,” he replied, opening his eyes and emphasising thus the sincerity of his feelings.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?”
“Of course I know that!” he replied with a shrug.
She smiled, leaned up and pecked his lips. “But I can be amazing as well!”
“Well, you can’t be amazing in this environment! It would appear extremely suspicious if you were to have your head hidden under my anorak; as much as I’d like you to be there, I won’t let you!” Charlotte’s puppy eyes only encountered a shake of his head. “Nope Honey,” he confirmed in a slightly disappointed tone, crossing his legs as he closed his eyes to shield them away from her lush mouth.
She took back her position against him and thought about the matter at hand – almost literally at hand, by the way, since her left hand was back on his thigh. The simplest solution was indeed to wait until they were home, but they still had about 2 hours to go to the Gare de Lyon(10), and, taking into account the cab-drive to the Avenue de la Grande Armée, they wouldn’t be home before 23h15. She also considered the fact that, during the week-end, Richard had skied even harder than the days before (to satisfy the mandatory competition between cousins– since he couldn’t in anyway compete with his love’s talent in this sport). She acknowledged some tiredness herself after an intense week of skiing. Nope, even if this was Richard’s wish, it was indeed not the good solution. Then, she could also just forget any further development and try to sleep – as so many persons were doing around her. But where would be the fun in this? Last, they could find a more private spot to complete the delicious interlude they had just started. She was still high – but when wasn’t she when he was around – and Richard must be even higher – or harder, she thought, It’s only a matter of the point of view… Jumping from the idea – the best one, obviously – to the practical considerations was easily and swiftly done.
“Mon Coeur,” she tilted her head to whisper in his ear, “I’m going to go to the loo and will wait for you there.”
Richard’s eyes snapped open. He had been trying to master his erection – not an easy endeavour when Charlotte was lying against him, still bra-less, still with his hand above her torso, and her body still tense from the climax she had reached minutes before. “Excuse me?” he asked, as amazed as shocked by her words.
“You’ll knock twice then pause and once again,” she continued in a hushed voice, convinced that he had heard her perfectly, “I think you don’t have to wait long before coming, everybody’s sleeping around here.”
“Charlotte Lucas, you cannot be serious!”
“Of course I am serious, Richard Fitzwilliam! I really want to have your dick inside me very soon, and I’d bet my thong you want that as well. Didn’t you ever hear of the quickie-in-the-toilets-of-the-plane fantasy? Well, I’ve just discovered that I have a slight variation of it…” she replied, getting up, an unequivocal smile on her lips.
As she was swaying her hips away from him, Richard expelled a long breath; his cock had hardened further with each of her words and he now found himself in the painful situation of a full-blown erection and no decent way to relieve himself. He had never been able to behave where Charlotte was concerned – as the last ten minutes had, once again, proved it – and the thought of thrusting wildly inside her desirable and welcoming body was beyond tempting. True, the area she suggested was small and uninspiring to say the least, but he was past caring. Charlotte often mocked him and all mankind with her “Men don’t have enough blood to irrigate their whole body all at once” and her “You do have a brain, only, it’s in your boxers”. Well, he couldn’t find her at fault at this precise moment. Indeed, where prudence and propriety should make him reject her plan as a scatterbrained one, he couldn’t wait for the two minutes to go by, two minutes being the utmost duration his “brain” was able to allow.
118, 119, 120. Well, this should be it, now, he thought, glancing at his watch. Yes! Charlotte, my love, open your thighs, here I come!. Chuckling inside at his own joke, he was peeking around him before getting up when, to his utter dismay, their neighbour, their supposedly sleeping neighbour, stood up, smiled politely at him, and walked in the direction of the toilets. Right! And what do I do now? For fuck’s sake, couldn’t Charlotte come up with a plan that works for once? Even as he thought thus, Richard realised the unfairness of his complaint. He knew that there were two toilets in every car in a TGV(11); hopefully the other one would be empty. He waited for two more minutes, and followed the path Charlotte and the middle-aged woman had taken.
Unfortunately, what he could see behind the glass sliding-doors was not at all to his wishes: the woman was standing there, obviously waiting. He gulped, felt his excitement abruptly decrease but went on anyway. When he entered the little hallway, he realised that, this being the very first car of the train, there was only one toilet, hence the woman still waiting. Even though his enthusiasm at joining his love no longer existed, he couldn’t leave both of them like this. He was pretty sure Charlotte was convinced he would come – and she was right! – she was just leaving him the time she felt his repressed-English blood needed.
“Madame,” he said in his heavy English accent, “erh, mon amie est là, elle n’était pas bien…”(12) Knocking at the door, he asked, for pretence-sake, “Charlotte, are you better?”
He heard some kind of veiled giggle; he didn’t dare look to the woman to evaluate her belief in his story.
At last a muffled reply came from beyond the wall, “A little, but…”
“Si elle n’est pas bien, il faut peut-etre prévenir le contrôleur.(13)”
“Non, non, ça va aller. Ne vous inquiétez-pas,”(14) replied the muffled voice.
“Bon…” the woman said opening the sliding-door and re-entering the sitting area, “je vous laisse alors.”(15)
Richard maintained the pretence of her illness, asking her if he could help her until they were truly isolated from the other passengers. Then he said, “It’s okay, she left, you can get out now…” the tapping of his foot showing some resentment, born, no doubt, from frustration and embarrassment.
The door opened wide enough for her arm to pop out and grab him by his tee-shirt. “Why would I get out when you can come in?, indeed, do something to relieve my sufferings?” Charlotte said, her voice more wicked than ever. “Don’t you know there’s something to be said for discovery fantasy?”
Richard found himself dragged into the small room, then locked into it, standing in front of a seating half-naked Charlotte, the said Charlotte being already opening the fourth button of his 501’s fly.
“Charlotte!” he ranted at her in a shocked whisper “Stop that immediately!”
Charlotte’s lust had grown steadfastly over the last minutes. Breaking propriety rules was something she had always felt compelled to do, at least in her wild years. Going to Paris and working as a Crazy Horse dancer had been her most flamboyant and last achievement of the kind, and, truth be told, she hadn’t felt the urge to misbehave since then. Well, until tonight, that was. Richard’s attentions back at their seats had relit something in her. Unlike all her teenage unruly actions, no-one could be injured or embarrassed if she had fun with the man of her life in the train. No-one could see, there were not even kids in the car who could over-hear; really, nothing bad could come from this. Was there something better than guilt-free pleasures? Nope, there is not! she had concluded, daringly taking off her denim skirt and thick black tights while waiting for Richard. She had been studying in the mirror the way her reflection’s nipples could harden more if she teased them when the knob of the door had moved without Richard’s planned signal. When she had heard him talk about an illness of hers to what proved shortly after to be another woman, she couldn’t repress a giggle and had to muffle herself with her hand to prevent herself from bursting into one of her famous laughing crises, the kind which had made her become friends with Babeth at first. She had barely managed to reply to Richard afterwards, but, feeling that the woman was willing to leave, she had forced herself into a consistent reply.
Now, Richard was where she had wanted him to be for what seemed like hours – barely ten minutes in reality – and she wasn’t ready to set him free. Well, she was, only just a part of him! The part she had in mind proved to be less eager than she would have wished; well, from the almost angry shock she could hear in his voice, there was far too much blood out of it! It was amazing how this theory of hers proved right all the time… Now, if she knew her man – and she did – arguing him was not the course of action to take. Stroking, kissing, licking, nipping, these were more the things to do. And it wasn’t only a matter of domination, she really needed him there; she really needed to feel his hard length buried in her; most of all, she needed to have him come in her, for her, because of her. She had discovered with her love for him that having sex wasn’t only replying to some animal urge; it wasn’t either just a pleasurable way to spend some time. No, to her utter amazement – since she had been ignorant of the fact until then – she had realised that Richard’s satisfaction was a mandatory element of her own pleasure. Oh, she enjoyed the kind of interludes he had blessed her with moments before all right, but she needed to gratify him as well.
“Charlotte, cease this immediately,” she heard him say when she had his sex in her hands, not limp, but certainly not as enthusiastic as it had been on their seats.
“Richard,” she said softly, her huge brown eyes looking up into his, daring him to stop her, begging him not to stop her. “Je te veux !”(16) Her head still tilted upwards, her eyes still hungrily and pleadingly plunged into his, she opened her mouth, her tongue darted out and she started to circle the head of his shaft. She felt an immediate hardening of his length; his eyes closed and he exhaled loudly.
Against his better instincts, against his strong sense of propriety, against the still rational part in him, he felt his control slip inexorably away. The desire Charlotte was able to ignite in him was almost painful at times. Had she only been flattering his primal urges, he may have been able to master his body; but he was undone by her declaring that she wanted him. He knew and felt that her ‘I want you’ was not some kind of toying or expression of her power over him, although she certainly had this power; no, this was the honest confession that she was herself too weak to repress her aching for him. He felt so proud and yet so amazed by it that he wouldn’t remember this moment as a capitulation, but as a victory.
Charlotte’s talent being what it was, he soon lost his train of thoughts and let the feeling of her lips going to and fro along his length overpower any remaining consciousness. His hands found their usual place on her hair, and, while her tongue was upon his soft skin, finding and following the smooth slightly bulging line around his tip, while her mouth sucked him hard, as if drawing his seed closer to the top – and his ecstasy closer to completion, he totally forgot the passengers not 3 meters from him and the greenish light of the greyish WC they were in.
What he didn’t forget was his ever-present willingness to make things right for the woman who was with him; and this meant, at that precise moment, that he had to remove his dick from her mouth and bury it between her thighs. She had this plan in mind anyway, otherwise she wouldn’t have undressed that much! He pushed back her head a little, and asked her to stand up. One of his hands cupping her head, he brought her mouth almost fiercely to his and kissed her hard. His tongue plundered her mouth, fighting with her over the control of the kiss, both being the loser, both being the winner… His other hand was stroking her ass, pressing her lightly covered mound forcefully against his naked length. He felt her squirm against him, one of her legs coming around his hips, while her hands held on tightly to his shoulders.
Charlotte felt her bare limbs encompassing fabric while the ivory fine lace of her thong was brushing against his naked sex. The sensation was intoxicating, emphasising the wickedness of their behaviour and overshadowing any doubt she may had about their surroundings. His groans had been almost less restrained than usual, his gestures as tenderly authoritative as usual, his willingness to move onto the ultimate step of their lovemaking at his usual point in time. She knew he felt the same as she did and the still conscious part of her mind appreciated the certainty that she knew her man. She started turning around him at the exact same moment than he made for them to move. She couldn’t repress a grin at this proof of her knowledge, and used his temporary back-up to get an explanation about her smile to turn around and present him with her back.
Richard’s mind was too clouded by desire to focus lengthily on her behaviour, but his eyes drank in the sight of her almost naked body’s reflection in the mirror. Her nipples were hard and begging for his touch, her shaved sex, almost totally revealed by the delicate lace of her panty, seemed to call to him as well, her eyes wide opened and staring in his were only repeating what all of her body seemed to be saying. Prends-moi, Richard ! (17). His hands hadn’t left her body during their silent and almost immobile dance but they had remained chaste enough while he was ogling her shamelessly. Both her unspoken plea and the insistent rubbing of her ass against his now painfully hard shaft induced a change in his hands’ destinations. One found anew its position on the tip of the small engorged bud of one of her breasts and started again the games she so enjoyed. The other moved South and, pushing the fabric of her thong aside, its fingers started to play with this other small engorged part of her. He felt her tense when he lightly stroked it and he heard her cry of pleasure. He insisted, alternating between rubbing it with the tip of his major finger and pinching it, creating more spasms and more noise, feeling her body tense and her upper-body slowly bending over.
Charlotte was in her usual I-can’t-stand-up-any-longer state. She was a strong person; years of skiing down the mountains in winter and climbing up them in summer had given her solid legs, only reinforced by her daily training and shows; yet, Richard, as always, had made her solid legs turn into jelly and she had to rest heavily on the small wash stand in front of her to remain standing. The fact that it eased her lover’s dick’s access to her depth was not lost on her and she felt that either Richard (or his dick) had been quite aware of it was well. She grunted in frustration when his hands left her body, and almost yelled her satisfaction when one came to rest on her hip, the other finding her core. He was quite a manual guy, for all his high-tech skills: moving away the thread of her undergarment and simultaneously penetrating her with two fingers of the same hand didn’t seem too hard a task for him! Her cries hadn’t lost their loudness but gained in frequency. Every movement of his was rewarded with a shout, a grunt or an expectant sigh. The tension in her body was getting more and more difficult to bear, and only he was able to relieve her. She reached backward, maintaining a precarious balance with one hand, and managed to grasp the part of him she so desperately wanted and needed.
His eyes had settled on her ass, the sight even more tantalising than the one presented by her breasts. But when she grabbed him, he looked up and saw their reflection in the mirror. He saw her gorgeous body bent and rocking rhythmically with his ministrations, and he saw her closed eyes as well as the suffering she seemed to be undergoing. He saw his almost totally clothed body, and he saw his own dishevelled and almost drugged facial expression. He saw, above all, a couple in the primary act of mating, for the pleasure and the satisfaction of both, and he couldn’t repress any longer his caveman’s instincts to dive into her. His hand still holding her panties out of the way, he thrust hard into her welcomingly wet core and let a sigh escape his mouth. He didn’t feel like remaining quiet for long, and, if the movements of her hips were any indication, neither did she. He pounded forcefully into her, his eyes closed to enjoy the sheer bliss of having her around him; he wasn’t as attentive to her as he liked to be, but he was aware in his crazy lust wave that their rhythm was as much hers as his. So he pounded, his stroke more intense that the last, his stroke bringing him and her closer to completion and to the peace that hadn’t been willing to settle upon them since he had rejected her idea of buying her favourite trash magazine. And at last, he heard her voice sing the long uninterrupted chant that often accompanied her ecstasy, and he felt her body tense up, his shaft retained in a tight sheath. This was enough to throw him over the edge and he came on a last thrust.
Charlotte heard but barely registered his grunts. A heavier weight suddenly rested on her hips and she realised then that he had joined her where only he was able to take her. Once she had recovered her breath, she uncoiled her body and, leaning against him, yet still with him in her, she kissed his jaw. He turned his head and let his love for her pour into his kiss.
“Je t’aime, Mon Coeur.”
“I love you too, Honey.”
“Eh bien, Monsieur Fitzwilliam, I’m quite sure you behaved most shamefully for an Englishman!” she said, quite primly. They were walking on the platform in Gare de Lyon, their train had arrived on time, an hour and a half after they had regained their seats, under the part-worried, part-curious look of their neighbour. Charlotte hadn’t been able to address the subject before, Richard falling asleep almost as soon as his handsome butt had hit the seat, herself soon drifting as well in a short but well-deserved sleep.
“Why, Mademoiselle Lucas, do you mean that French young women have this kind of occupation every time they take the train? And if so, why was I not subject to this treatment on the way to La Clusaz?” he replied, as serious as she had been.
“Every time would probably be a slight exaggeration, but why restrain yourself to young women? While, I do think that our international reputation may be a little over-rated, I’ll have you know that we, French women, aren’t that fast! But, some fantasy is always a good idea, and, why not indulge in some from time to time?”
“From time to time, really? So I may expect some renewal of our behaviour tonight?”
Charlotte couldn’t discern if it was willingness or amusement she could hear in his voice. Maybe it was both. “You may, although one shouldn’t fall into a routine. L’habitude tue l’amour(18).”
“Oh oh, Mademoiselle is a philosopher!” He leaned down to hiss in her ear, “Or Mademoiselle is appalled at her own behaviour and has the most painful trouble to live up to her reputation.”
She giggled. “Actually, we don’t live up to our reputation at all, but chut!(19) don’t tell…” she said, a finger on his mouth.
They had reached the bottom of the platform, and they smiled a neutral good-bye at the lady who had been seating by them. She was almost reunited with what was obviously at least her lover, and, seemed about to kiss him passionately. They were not 3 meters farther when Richard’s smile broadened widely while Charlotte expelled a shameful “Oh” and blushed bright red to the roots of her brown hair. And this was solely due to the fact that, after kissing senseless her companion, their neighbour had said, loudly enough, “Alex, la prochaine fois, tu prends le train en même temps que moi. Y’avait un couple dans le train… Ils m’ont donné des idées!”(20)
“You don’t live up to your reputation, do you?” was Richard’s only answer.
(2) A supposedly witty, gossiping magazine, full of irony and bad jokes. I love it! Their website is quite disappointing, though…
(3) In Paris, the trains bound to the North of France (including England, Belgium and Holland) depart from the Gare du Nord
(5) 1st Class. There are two classes in French trains. The 2nd class is comfortable enough, but there is more room in première and since the tickets are more expensive (but not that expensive, they remain affordable), there tends to be older (hence quieter) people.
(6) ‘Don’t be repressed’ in street-French.
(7) An ‘affectionate’ term sometimes used in French to refer to our dear over-the-Channel neighbours.
(8) The one and only French railway company. Means ‘Société Nationale des Chemins de Fer’, their website.
(9) Direct translation is “and, hooker!” (therefore to use cautiously J). An exclamation which would be “O My God” in Phoebe’s (Friends ©) mouth, and “Holly shit” in mine, were I American.
(10) In Paris, the trains bound to the South-East of France (including the Alps) depart from the Gare de Lyon
(11) The TGV (meaning Train à Grande Vitesse = “Very high speed train”) is the proof that French aren’t always losers… It’s a very modern kind of train that goes over regular railways but at much higher speed than regular trains. For distances such as in France of in Europe, they are very serious competitors to the planes (since, although they go less fast, they arrive in the centre of the cities and don’t have to bother with a too-busy sky). There are more and more TGV circulating in France and in Europe (thanks to Thalys and the Eurostar).
(12) ‘My friend is there, she wasn’t feeling well.
’ (13) ‘If she’s unwell, shouldn’t we inform the conductor?’
(14) ‘No, no, it will pass. Don’t worry.’
(15) ‘Well, I’ll leave you then.’
(16) ‘I want you!’
(17) ‘Take me, Richard!’
(18) ‘Habits kill love’, I think it is a real French saying but I’m not sure…
(20) ‘Alex, next time, you take the train with me. There was a couple in the train… They gave me some ideas!’
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