Maggie and Cecelia's Night Out

On a late Friday night, Maggie, Cecelia, Alain and J.P. stagger arm and arm along Le Seine singing, or rather slurring, old French songs. While the three Franco-natives croon as many lyrics as their intoxicated minds will allow them to remember, Maggie laughs and hums along in a less inebriated state having had only a glass or two of wine compared to the others drinking a limitless amount of carafes in celebration of completing their spring mid-terms.

"Alain, voyons donc, c'est trop tard. Nous doyons partir chez nous. J'en ai assez," says a tired J.P. to his roommate as he attempts to unlink Alain's arms from the two girls on either side of him and drag Alain in the direction of the student apartment that they share.

"Mais non," Alain protests unintelligibly. "I not leave these two beautiful ladies alone, in the night, in the dark. Especiallement not the beautiful Americaine, Majee."

"My name's Maggie," she corrects him, laughing.

"Selon moi," Alain says as he takes Maggie's hand in his and drops to his knee. "Vous êtes la magie, magnifique!"

Alain kisses Maggie's hand like a chivalrous gentleman while Cecelia and J.P. laugh at his antics. Maggie is feeling buzzed enough to join in the hilarity. J.P. gives Cecelia a long kiss goodbye then yanks dreamy-eyed Alain off his knees, pulling him down the block away from Maggie and Cecelia.

"Je t'aime! Je t'aime! I love you," Alain screams as J.P. forcibly drags him down the street. Then Maggie watches in utter disbelief as Alain rips open his shirt bearing his toned, hairless chest to the eastern spring breeze. Both girls look at each other and burst out laughing as they turn away from the spectacle and continue to walk arm in arm in the direction that will eventually lead them to their respective homes.

"Il est bien fou, ce mec," Cecelia chuckles.

"Ya think," Maggie says.

"I know Alain since children and he never change. Always like that."

"I can't believe you actually thought I'd like him."

"Mais oui! Alain? You? So different. It's good like that. Look me and J.P. He so, comment dire, conservative, quiet, a good man and me, je suis...bien, moi."

"Ya, spontaneous, daring and fun," Maggie says as she breathes in the evening air. The smell of river water draws her attention to Le Seine and her breath is taken away by the sudden realization why Paris is called the city of lights. Pinpoints of white light sparkle and ripple on the surface of the famed river. She absentmindedly releases the hold from Cecelia's arm and dreamily walks to the edge of the railing to be closer to the spectacular light show. Maggie slightly squints in order to refocus the glare out of her eyes. It's beautiful to her, so calming and peaceful. She suddenly wishes Bianca were with her, at her side, enjoying this moment with her, touching her face, kissing her. Maggie closes her eyes. A mild breeze sweeps back her hair and caresses her face. She suddenly wants to be home and barely notices that Cecelia is saying something to her.

"Bien?" Cecelia asks, expecting an answer to a question.

"What?" Maggie says opening her eyes which are reflective and watery partially due to her fatigue and the effects of the wine on her senses.

"J'ai di, what do you like?" Cecelia asks again as she leans against the railing beside Maggie. Their arms touch as they both look out onto the water.

"I like this," Maggie says referring to the mystical scene in front of her. "I love this."

"No, what kind of person you like, you know…to love?"

An image of Bianca materializes in her tipsy haze and a secret smile forms on Maggie face.

"A special person," Maggie answers.

"Like you, oui?"

Then before clarity seeps through her alcohol-induced fog, Maggie feels lips as soft as Bianca's touching hers and she feels her own tongue respond to the lure of another and she feels her breath quicken and her heart race and her body draw closer to the one in front of hers. The body whose parts mirror her own instead of being staggered a little bit higher; its belly warm, arms eager and breasts soft. Maggie moans as her escalating need mounts. Maggie abruptly pushes Cecelia away looking at her dazed and confused.

"You are the lover of Bianca, oui?" Cecelia asks as she touches her own lips. She is flushed and glossy-eyed.

Maggie is silent.

"When I see her, Bianca," Cecelia continues. "She look at you so...strong."

Maggie cannot peel her eyes away from Cecelia's, yet she cannot find any words to say.

"Who am I to you, ma cher?" Cecelia asks as she strokes Maggie cheek. The aroma of stale wine hovers in the short distance between Cecelia and Maggie's lips.

Maggie blinks at Cecelia's question before she runs away not daring to look back at the girl who stares bleary-eyed after her.