When Arthur had signed up for a tour of the Catacombs of Paris, there were two things that he did not expect. One: that no one else had signed up and it ended up being a one-on-one tour. Two: that the tour guide would be quite so goddamned attractive.
The man standing by the rusting wrought-iron gates looked terribly out of place. He was wearing a bright, noticeable outfit, his blonde hair shining in the dying light of the sun. He held a flashlight in one hand, but all Arthur could think of was exactly what other things that the man could use that hand for.
No! Arthur screamed at himself internally, shaking his head. He could feel the blood rushing to his face as he approached; he hadn't even met the guy and he was thinking shit like that.
The man grinned and flourished his hand in the air, a rose appearing from God only knew where. The blonde proffered it to Arthur, whose face went even redder as he took it shyly and tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket.
"Good evening, mon ami. I take it you'reMonsieur Arthur Kirkland?"
His accent was heavy but understandable and oh so attractive. Arthur nodded, his words seeming to stick in his throat.
"My name is Francis Bonnefoy and I'll be your tour guide, monsieur. Right this way."
Francis gestured at the tunnel behind him, pushing open the gate and backing out of the way so Arthur could head in first. The Brit nodded and followed the beam of the flashlight in Francis' hand, looking around him a bit nervously.
The Frenchman talked about the history of the catacombs, but Arthur wasn't really listening. He was too focused on the man himself, watching his every move. Francis walked with an elegance, a grace that almost suggested that he was a dancer. His body was lean but Arthur could tell that there was a fair amount of muscle, probably meaning that he was much stronger than he looked.
Before he knew it, they stood back at the entrance to the catacombs. To Arthur, it was over all too soon. Francis grinned and bowed theatrically, his every move the definition of elegance.
"Ah, yes, I almost forgot. Before you leave, take this souvenir." A mischievous glint shone in Francis' eye as he held out a skull and crossbones keychain with the words Catacombs of Paris written in elegant, flowing font. Arthur nodded gratefully and took it, his hand closing around the piece of plastic with a clink.As he walked away, he turned it over, his blush returning full force.
On the back, written in a neat, tidy scrawl, was the name Francis Bonnefoy and a phone number.