Ahh alas, not what I was hoping for, but a story needs to stretch out, worry not my kind readers and reviewers, more to come very, very soon….gahh it's too late in the night time for me to be netteracting. it becomes hard for people to understand me.
As always: You know what to do.
EDUCATEUR
"Entrée, entrée!" A cheery, musical voice sounded from the other side of the door as I knocked uncertainly. I was ten minutes late and my heart was pounding furiously against my chest, due to me running majority of the way and the dragonflies that were exercising very vigorously in my stomach at that moment. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.
"Sorry I'm late." I said quietly.
"Désolée pour le retard." The teacher said back. I didn't look up at him as I was trying to hide my bright crimson face.
I was about to take another step before he spoke again.
"Repeat it." He said kindly, but with a hint of a command.
"Day solay pur le raytard?" I tried.
He laughed; it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life.
"It seems we have a foreigner in our class. What is your name, foreigner?" then he repeated himself in French to the class. "Comment vous appelez-vous mademoiselle l'étrangère?"
"Alice Swan." I said as I looked up at him. And when I did my heart stopped beating, and the dragonflies froze, and the whole world just came to a stand still. I was introducing myself to an angel.
"Well Mademoiselle Swan, I'm Louis Cullen. Please, take a seat." He gestured to an empty spot in the back. It took me a moment to unfreeze and I walked to the seat he had pointed to. As I was walking I tripped on a cord from a stereo that was plugged into the wall. But before I fell, face first into the ground a pair of strong and sure hands caught me. Their touch sent electric pulses through me and it took me a moment to regain feeling in my skin and register the icy temperature of the hands, by then they were gone. I looked at the person who caught me, knowing before I even saw that it was Louis Cullen.
"Thank you," I mumbled, not quite looking him in the eyes, and continued carefully to the seat.
"Let's continue." He began and then said a phrase in French which the class repeated. The lesson continued, but I paid absolutely no attention to what was going on. Somebody could have come up to me at the end and asked me how I enjoyed the midget rodeo halfway through the lesson and I would not have been surprised that I missed it. I was hypnotized by this man. He was beyond beautiful. Everything about him was more amazing than anything I'd ever seen in my life. His skin was as white as snow – that could explain the temperature. His face was perfectly symmetrical; it was a face any male model would trade his soul for. His eyes were an astonishingly liquid gold colour that I could see even from my seat far from the front. When he smiled – which he did often – it lit up the entire room, his teeth were amazing and he got these lines that didn't crinkle his face, but on the contrary emphasized every extra-beautiful feature about him. I could have gone on and on about his perfection. I could have filled a whole novel. I filled a whole hour, just staring at him.
"Don't waste your time sweetie." A rounded woman came up to me at the end of the class, she saw my confused expression and added "Or at least get in line." I still couldn't understand what she was talking about.
"I've been going to this class for the past two years; haven't learnt a single thing." A tall and dark-skinned woman came to join our conversation.
"I have," a third piped up, I turned around to see a middle-aged woman with bleached blond hair and a bright red blouse with a neckline that exaggerated breasts which in no way could be real. "Voulez vous couchez avec moi?" The rest all laughed.
"Ladies, please, stop embarrassing yourselves," A male voice interrupted their laugher "Il est clairement homosexual!" he said with a perfect French accent. I had to laugh along with all the other ladies, even though I had no idea of what he said.
"Sandy stop showing off!" A second man piped up, he was tanned, with a hairstyle that you see on Vogue models, wearing an outfit you'd only ever expect to find on a daring fashion runway.
We all walked out of the building together laughing and the man whose name was Sandy continuing to 'show off' with his French remarks. He was a petite man with a tidy baby blue collared shirt tucked into red and white checkered pants. It was impossible not to fall in love with him instantly.
"Au revoir Monsieur Sexy." Sandy said in the direction of a fancy car driving away.
"Au revoir." Everyone repeated in a quiet chorus and then sighed together. I laughed at them.
"You can't laugh honey, we all saw you gawking at him all lesson." The round woman spoke again.
"I wasn't gawking." I denied, turning red at being caught.
"Oh please, you were practically drooling." Sandy said as the other man did an impression of my face which was probably uncanny as they all burst out laughing.
"I don't drool." I said, pouting.
"How dare you accuse us of lying missy when you don't even know our names." The blonde woman scolded with an approving smile on her face.
"Je m'appelle Sandy. But you probably already knew that." Sandy said happily prancing into a hug I was not expecting.
"I'm Fred." Chuckled the second man holding out his hand and as soon as I reached to shake it he pulled me in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "That's how the French do it." He laughed and everyone joined in.
"Sharon." Said the woman that was the first one to speak to me today, I shook her hand.
"My name is Janine." The tallest woman said.
"I'm Gemma." the woman with the plunging neckline was next to introduce herself.
"She's what the French call une salope." Sandy whispered loudly to me.
Gemma pushed him. "Shut up Sandy," then she looked at me and added in a whisper followed by a giggle, "It's true though."
"Leave the poor girl alone." Sharon said.
"Where do you live anyway?" Fred asked, looking at me.
I told them my address.
"Why do you want to live dans ce trou for?" Of course it was Sandy who used the French.
"Enough is enough Sandy, none of us understand or care for all your French rubbish." Janine said angrily.
"Well maybe you should pay attention dans le cours de francais." Sandy answered, his voice getting higher with each word.
Janine slapped him lightly across the head.
"Well, I better get going, my boyfriend's probably waiting up for me, poor little thing." Gemma told us as she put on her coat, "Bye all."
We exchanged "goodbye"s and "nice-to-meet-you"s and of course an "enchaté" from Sandy and each or us departed from outside that small building, each eagerly awaiting the next time we'd get to see Louis Cullen.
