If you Got it, Flaunt it

Two Brits sit at a table in a luxurious setting, imbibing God's elixir and reminiscing almost absent-mindedly about 'old Blighty'.

They see they are under surveillance.

"Ah, the Bordey women! Drink up, young fella me lad. We are lost!"

A china cup is set down delicately, "Not lost, Johnny... found."

An indulgent smile, "Ah, yes, of course. Thank you, Richard."

They fold their hands on top of the table expectantly like good little boys waiting for Christmas.

Across the room, Camille is amused by this, "I believe we are upsetting the gentlemen."

Catherine sighs and smiles, "Yes, we are."

"See how they sip their tea in unison, trying to cover up their uneasiness?"

"Very amusing but, chérie, they are not uneasy."

"They're not? What are they, then?"

"Hot. Very hot."

"Really?"

"Yes, Englishmen try to hide it, especially from French women. It is the eternal struggle."

"Ah. So. A losing battle, then." A satisfied sigh.

"Oui, but you must excuse me now. I believe MY English deserves to be cooled down a bit."

"Maman!"

"Oh, what? You can flaunt YOUR English but I can't?" An exasperated huff.

"I do NOT flaunt… or, at least, I don't THINK I… oh, all right, I do… but…"

"No buts allowed, chérie. I have just as much right to be proud of mine as you do of yours. In fact…" and Catherine signals that someone is looking at Camille with real need in his eyes.

Camille gives a casual glance then straightens up slightly, "Oh. Um. Well. Perhaps you're right, Maman. Anyway, it's time for our afternoon tea break so I think we'll toddle off now."

Smiling, Catherine arches an eyebrow. Tea break? Is that what they're calling it now? She stands and nods to one man who rises in a most dignified way, gives a slight bow to the younger man, crosses the room to take Catherine's hand and they waft arm in arm out of the venue.

Camille watches them leave. Good for them, she thinks. Swiveling, she pierces her own man with a look. He bolts a bit less dignified to his feet, runs a hand down his tie, and eagerly approaches. She smiles, takes his arm and whispers in his ear, taking great care to brush his cheekbone with her lips. She can feel his blush on her own cheek before she straightens up.

"Yes, please," he murmurs.

Taking his proffered arm, she proudly flaunts her English all the way to the door.

END