Chapter 2: Ms. Millot

She appeared in the bar as if in a dream, wearing an attractive and fashionable light blue silk dress. One moment I was alone in my bar checking liquor inventories, the next moment she stood before me, having entered quietly through the front door. I thought she was the prettiest woman I had ever seen. I immediately noticed how exotic she looked, with long dark hair, brown eyes and a curvy figure. When we first met, neither of us uttered a word. We just stared at each other from across the room, caught up in the moment. It lasted a few seconds or a few minutes, I have no way of knowing, mesmerized as I was by her sheer physical beauty. Sexually attracted to her from the start, my eyes lingered far too long on her breasts. To stop myself from raking over her body further, I grabbed a job application, assuming she was responding to my ad on Craig’s List.

“Are you here to apply for the waitress position?” I asked.

She nodded. I gave her a clipboard and a pen and ushered her to the couch in my back office. I left her alone for a moment to fill out the form and went back to the bar. When I poured myself a glass of Perrier, I noticed my hands were trembling from the encounter. I had interviewed several attractive women over the last few years. Why had this particular woman affected me in such a visceral way?

I took a deep breath to compose myself and went back to my office. She had finished filling out the application and was waiting patiently for me to return. I tried to remain professional, despite her attractiveness, and conducted the interview sitting on the chair opposite the couch. She smiled and gave me a deep look in the eyes when she handed me the form. Before I started staring at her breasts again, I looked down at the application. Even her name was exotic.

“Your name is Anne-Marie Millot?” I asked. “Am I pronouncing it correctly?”

“No, Monsieur. It’s Mill-o. The T is silent…”

The sound of her French accent washed over me like a warm breeze. It’s hard to describe, but I felt refreshed listening to her voice. It soothed and aroused me at the same time. I wanted her to be naked and whispering her name in my ear. Anne-Marie Millot.

“I see. Well, my name is Mark. Mark Wilson. I’m the owner and manager here… You speak English very well, Ms. Millot.”

“Merci.”

“So, you’re from France?”

“Oui, Monsieur. I was raised in Nice, along the Mediterranean Sea. My parents have a home there. Have you been to France?”

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“You must go there one day, Monsieur.”

I nodded, lost in a fantasy of Anne-Marie laying in the sand, topless, the sun soaking into her skin. I shook my head slightly, trying to remove the inappropriate image from my mind.

“What brings you to my club, Ms. Millot?”

“I came to the US to study English, but now my classes are over. I have one final month this summer before I go back to France and I would like to earn some money if I can. I only have a student visa, so I’ve had trouble finding a job. Are you able to hire me Monsieur, without a work visa?”

Though it’s illegal, I’ve hired women who weren’t US citizens before and paid them under the table, in cash. I’ve never had a problem with it. In order to keep The Voyeur fully staffed, I’ve had to bend the rules on occasion.

“Perhaps…”

I looked at the application.

“Under job experience you listed, Heaven’s View Stables. What is that?”

Anne-Marie’s eyes glazed over and she looked down.

“Ms. Millot?”

“Oh, it’s just a little ranch in the mountains.”

“What did you do there?”

“I… cared for the horses.”

“I see. May I ask… have you ever worked at a bar that required nudity?”

“You mean…”

I nodded.

“Topless? You mean… without a blouse?” she asked.

“The waitresses may wear a G-String of their choosing and stockings, but no bra or blouse.”

She looked slightly embarrassed and her cheeks flushed.

“Perhaps you didn’t fully understand the nature of the position, Ms. Millot,” I said.

To be honest, I was rather relieved when Anne-Marie appeared reticent about the job. I was powerfully drawn to her. Not only was it illegal to be so sexually attracted to her as my prospective employee, it was immoral, given the age difference between us. Perhaps I still had a little decency left, I thought.

“I apologize if my posting wasn’t clear,” I said.

Ms. Millot looked shy and nervous.

“No. It is my fault I’m sure. I am better at speaking English, rather than reading it. A G-String? I’m not wearing a G-String today, Monsieur. I don’t think I’m prepared to…”

“I completely understand, Ms. Millot. Please don’t feel awkward about it. I know this sort of job isn’t right for everyone.”

“No, you misunderstand me, Monsieur. I would very much like to be considered for the position. I am a very good waitress. And I don’t have a problem… with the nudity involved.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t mind being topless, Monsieur. May I show you?”

“Show me?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Of course, Monsieur.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly.

“Ms. Millot, it’s not necessary to…”

Anne-Marie turned her back to me and began to unzip her dress. She didn’t seem nervous at all to take her clothes off in front of a complete stranger. I gazed at the pretty hourglass shape of her waist and hips.

Now I was the one who was nervous. I wondered why Ms. Millot made me feel so uncomfortable. I watched women undress every day, fully appreciating their nude bodies through the sheet of transparent glass, but not since I was married had a woman undressed in front of me in the same room. I had kept myself cloistered in my office, shielding myself from all human contact like some kind of corrupt monk. But now the young woman stood just inches away from me, about to reveal her body to me.

“Could you help me unzip the back of my dress, Monsieur?”

The shining metal teeth of the zipper beckoned me. I had my familiar physiological response: pounding heart, sweating palms, shortness of breath.

“Are you sure, Ms. Millot? As I mentioned, it’s not necessary for you to undress in front of -”

“I am sure, Monsieur.”

With trembling fingers I slowly unzipped her dress from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. I helped to slip it over her shoulders, careful not to make physical contact with her skin. Looking at her back, I followed the sloping curves of her shoulder blades down to her hips. Clutching the last vestiges of morality within me, I forced myself to look away from the elastic band of her panties and the nicely rounded derriere it partially covered. Turning away, I gently placed the dress over the back of a chair to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Just as I turned back, she unsnapped her bra, removed it and faced me. Anne-Marie lowered her arms to reveal her bosom.

Her breasts were pert and full, the color of fresh cream. My lips parted slightly as I noticed the large swollen brown rings of her areolas. My eyes lingered on her lovely breasts. Her puffy pink nipples seemed inflated with air and were pointed upwards, as if numerous pairs of lips and tongues had suckled passionately upon them over the course of her life. My eyes slid down her torso, over her soft belly, to the front of her panties. I looked back up again and noticed how the tendrils of her long hair rested on the tender white flesh of her chest. A pool of saliva formed under my tongue and I swallowed. My eyes drifted back down toward her panties.

When Anne-Marie saw me staring at her underclothes, it seemed to make her uncomfortable. She bit her lower lip, turned away and put her bra on. I handed her the dress and she slipped into it. An awkward moment passed before she spoke.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t quite prepared to…”

“I completely understand, Ms. Millot. It’s my fault, really. Please don’t feel ashamed about -”

“I’m not ashamed, Monsieur…”

She zipped up the back of her dress.

“I’m terribly sorry for the confusion about the ad. I should make it a clearer. I’m not a very good writer, I’m afraid. Again, please accept my apologies,” I said, looking down at the floor.

“It is not your fault, Monsieur. You have nothing to apologize for.”

I looked up and her pleasant smile put me at ease. Another moment of silence passed. She stood in front of me in a calm manner, in no apparent rush to leave.

“May I offer you refreshment at the bar, Ms. Millot?” I asked.

“Thank you, Monsieur. You’re very considerate.”

“It’s the least I can do, after making you so uncomfortable.”

“I’m not the least bit uncomfortable, Monsieur.”

We left my office and walked over to the bar. I poured her a Perrier and we both sat down. I tried to make friendly eye contact with her and she looked away. I became nervous again I had upset her.

“Is there anything wrong, Ms. Millot?” I asked.

“Oh, perhaps I’m just a little… embarrassed. As you said.”

“Embarrassed? Of what?”

Anne-Marie looked down at the bar and took a sip of her drink before answering.

“I didn’t like the way I looked today.”

I leaned my back against the bar and the words just spilled out. Once spoken, I couldn’t take them back.

“But… you look quite lovely today, Ms. Millot.”

She glanced up flirtatiously and smiled.

“You are very kind to say that, Monsieur.”

My heart raced at her words.

“Please. Call me Mark…”

“D’accord. I mean, OK.”

It was very pleasant, just relaxing at the bar and having a sparkling water with her. Even though we hardly spoke, I felt Anne-Marie and I co-existed perfectly in the space we shared together. I wished I could’ve had this feeling when I was married. My presence was like a heavy stone around my wife’s neck, weighing us both down. I always seemed to be blocking her path in our small apartment, constantly in her way. There was nowhere I could go where my very existence didn’t seem to annoy her. It felt so different with Anne-Marie, right from the start.

ESPN was on TV in the background and we both occasionally looked up at it as we sipped our drinks. I asked Anne-Marie if she would like to watch something else and she said no, so I turned it off. The silence made me notice her magnificent body even more, sitting so close in her bar stool beside me.

After we finished our drinks, Anne-Marie looked into the depths of my eyes again and said something no one had ever said to me in my seedy bar before. Hearing it, I smiled inside.

“I like it here…”

“You do?”

“Oui, Monsieur. I’m very comfortable here.”

I felt like a teenage boy again, fumbling with words around a pretty girl.

“Oh, good… Well, please feel free to come back and visit any time you wish. You’re always welcome here, Ms. Millot.”

“Merci. I think I will, perhaps.”

Then I made this lame awkward joke.

“You can come keep your clothes on next time, of course.”

As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back. She chuckled and gave me a sideways glance. Thankfully, she wasn’t offended. She took one more drink, set her glass down and stood up.

“Au Revoir…” she said as she walked out the door.

I watched her leave. After she was gone, I realized I had experienced a moment of happiness. I had a vague remembrance of a similar feeling, which I may have had once, many years ago.