Revons Plus Grand
Chapter 3:
Nightcall
Plenty of television monitors all around. Tables, chairs, drink glasses, men and women socializing while watching sports events from all over the world, including America, or Liberion, as Sadako Shimohara and Georgette Lemare knew the place as. They were mesmerized as they walked around before finding a place to sit down. "Let's have a seat," Georgette said as the two of them found a plush place to sit down at Frog XVI.
An attendant went over to them. "Welcome to Frog XVI," he said. "My name is Pierre, would you like to start with anything to drink at this point?"
Georgette and Sadako were 17, so they were too young to actually drink any wine. The legal drinking age in France was 18. Nonetheless, Jose looked to Sada and they both nodded. "Chateau Le Clariot, 15cl," they both said.
"Identifications, please?"
Sadako showed Pierre her passport, and Georgette showed her CNIS, or national identity card, which somehow showed up conveniently for both of them respectively. "Ah, both of you are 18. Looks good."
"Eh? We are?" Sadako said. Georgette winked at her, chuckling, causing Sadako's lips to form a sideways three. "That we are. Rrrrrr. Kappa."
"By the way, I should inform you that this wine is AOP."
"What does that mean?" she asked in French. Sadako covered her mouth in amazement. She was actually talking like the locals perfectly, and her eyes were spiraling in response. Quickly internalized and accepted as the law.
"It means this wine has a protected origin. This is actual wine from Bordeaux. It's a good one, you'll love it."
Georgette wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing Sadako to sweat a little. "She seems she can be built to hold this," Sadako thought. "That means, I must...!"
"So, we'll get you that, and anything else to drink?"
"Ah! Oh yes, um...gimme a chocolate chaud and a jus ananas," Sadako added, talking quickly.
"Calm down, Sada," Georgette replied. "I'll have a chaud too, sir."
"Good choices," Pierre said. "I'll come back with your drinks, and take a look at what you want on the menu. Thank you, merci." He left.
"There he goes," Sadako said. "He has such a nice hairstyle too. What a gentleman."
"The people here are very tall. Some people are from different parts of the world too," Georgette said. It was also getting warm. "Ah, I think I'm getting a bit too hot. Coat, Sada."
"Mmm-hmmm..."
Georgette sighed as Sadako took off her coat, revealing her PSG jersey that emphasized her bust, some light lashes of sweat giving it a natural, smooth sheen. Subconsciously, her right hand was caressing her left nipple as the warmth overtook here. "Ahhhh, so warm..."
An onlooker whistled. "Waouh! A PSG supporter touching herself suggestively! Very nice," he said in a deep voice with a thick Africa accent. "Tres bien!"
That alarmed her. She stopped fondling herself. "Eh!? Ahahhaah, thank you, but who might you be?"
He went over and shook her hand. "My name is Cheikh. I am a visitor from Bamako, in Mali."
"Mali? Where is that?"
"North Africa. You didn't take any geography lessons at your local ecole?"
"It's not that, it's, um...never mind."
"Ah, oh please, please, do not worry about it, miss. I will not ask that question again. Instead, what is your name, by the way?"
"My name is Georgette but you can call me Jose. I am from a place called Barenton."
"Normandy?"
"I guess you did take lessons on the other hand. Exactly, that's where I live."
"She says Barenton, Normandy, I've been there," said Cheikh's friend, a fair skinned fellow with a portly build, holding a mug of beer in salute. "She's a pure, genuine country girl. I am Pascal, a friend of Cheikh, from Rennes. I am his personal chaperone and I'm giving him a tour of the country while he is away from his work over in Mali. Are you heading to the football over at Le Parc?"
"Le Parc?"
"Le Parc des Princes, home of Paris Saint-Germain FC," Pascal replied.
Sadako pulled out two tickets from her handbag, luxury box seating. Her eyes sparkled. "I guess we are," Jose replied, scratching her cheek. "Yes sir, we are."
"Well. Anyway, in Normandy, the local club in the first division, or Ligue 1, is a team called Stade Malherbe Caen, or SM Caen for shirt." Pascal produced an iPad Pro and pulled up a visual. "This is where Caen stand in the table."
"18th? Is that...a bad thing?"
"It means that if things go the way they are at the end of the current season, Caen are going to be relegated to the second division, or Ligue 2, joining Le Havre AC and maybe even a team called US Quevilly-Rouen, who are doing well in the National, our country's third division. And this is their actual crest." Pascal pulled it up, smirking.
Jose covered her mouth in shock. "Ohhhh mon dieu! Put that away, sir, please! That is worse than Sada when she is wild as a cruel summer! It's like a Viking that grew his facial hair too long and didn't even take a bath in a year! Disgusting!" cried Georgette.
"By the way Mr. Pascal, I am Sadako from Hiroshima, Japan," she said.
"Home of Sanfrecce, a good club in the J1 League," he replied.
"Yes, that club, I suppose, ahahahahah..."
"She has no idea," Jose thought to herself, highly suspicious like a beautiful mind.
Pascal then pulled up the current Paris Saint-Germain crest. "Now...which one would you choose?"
Georgette took a deep gulp then cried. "Ici C'est..."
"PARIS!" roared the others in the pub, followed by applause.
Cheikh looked at the patrons then turned to Jose. "Good choice. See what we mean?"
"I think it all makes sense. PSG will be my club. However, I also have another question."
"Go on, Miss Jose."
"What does the word on the back Ibrahimovic mean? I don't even know what that is."
"Oh dear me! You absolutely do not know!?"
"Please don't get mad, I'm honest, I don't know who that is!"
"You do not know who Zlatan Ibrahimovic is?" Pascal asked, stupefied.
Georgette sucked a finger, guilty like Jeanne D'Arc. "Non," she mewed, guilty like Marie Antoinette centuries ago.
"Hmph! Then let me refresh you then mademoiselle, since you wear his jersey but yet you do not know the man," On cue, a highlight reel of the player in question played. "For your information, Zlatan Ibrahimovic is the greatest goalscorer in Paris Saint-Germain history. He has more goals across all competitions than any other goalscorer at the club. He is also Sweden's most celebrated association football player and currently plays for a club in England called Manchester United, another well known brand that is having a difficult season in their league this year, the Premier League."
"Adding to what he said, I can attest to this, young miss: Zlatan...is a god," Cheikh said dramatically, hand over heart. "As supporters of PSG, we are forever indebted to him for putting our club back on the map and giving us enough trophies to make us the leader in trophies won in France at this moment. He is also a proud football dad and has two wonderful sons built to carry on his legacy. Finally, Miss Jose, we love chanting his name because he is the man, the myth, the legend, the god...Zlatan!"
"IBRAHIMOVIC!" the others reponded.
"Zlatan!"
"IBRAHIMOVIC!"
"ZLATAAAAAAAAN!"
"IBRAHIMOVIC!" And applause.
"See what I mean?"
"I see what you mean, and I guess I am wearing the shirt of a legend," Jose said. A rush of energy filled her up, causing her to sigh. "I am fine with this. I guess we are ready to order, then."
"Are you ready to order?" asked Pierre, coming back with the drinks.
"What type of cuisine is this, by the way?"
"American food. Hamburgers, Tex-Mex, barbecue..."
"The type of food Shirley eats at home, Jose," Sadako replied.
"Is that so, Sada? A Revolution and Loaded Fries for me then, Mr. Pierre," said Jose.
"Someone has the appetite. Burning all those calories at the match later tonight then. Hope you come back here to celebrate if PSG win. And for you, Miss?" Pierre asked Sadako.
"Smokin Beef Tacos, Texas Toast and nachos, Mr. Pierre."
"Another hungry supporter. Good luck to the Rouge et Bleu then! Let me take this, and I'll get your order." And Pierre took the menus and the order was being taken care of.
A courageous soul was Jose as she took a few swirls of the snifter before taking a sip. "Oh my, this is very good. You know Sada, there are wineries in my part of the country but I do believe that Bordeaux is the best place for wine. I know it, you know it, the world knows it. It's so good." No sooner had she said that that she noticed Sadako drinking both her beverages and the water. "Ah, but don't drink it quickly, we're not in a rush, that's not how you drink wine, it isn't water!" Sadako put the glass down in apparent achievement. "Dear me, I hope you are not intoxicated after all this..."
A blank stare of confusion. "I'm fine," Sadako said. "I'm...fine..." And then her eyes glowed red with lustful, deliciously lewd visions. "So...fine..."
"You're drunk after one glass," Georgette said. "Sada, please restrain yourself, we are in a public place."
The glowness subsided on obedient cue. Sadako's water glass was refilled and she chased it down to prevent herself from making a mountain out of a molehill. "Ah, you know, I always imagined," she said as the order came in and Jose replied by handing the attendant her visa to be recorded in her ledgers in her home dimension (again, another perk to the new magic created by Charlotte E. Yeager), "that you would look fantastic juggling a soccer ball and even shooting it at goal. Even throwing it into play would get the boys roaring for more."
"Sada."
"Eh?"
She came in closer and whispered. "Calm down, be quiet and eat. NOW."
"Yes, ma'am." Sadako took a bit of the tacos, the sauce staining the sides of her mouth a little.
A slight head tilt. "Oh, and Sada, please wipe your mouth when you eat."
"Ahahahah, um, okay, but, uh..."
She crept in close again. This cool cat meant business, how about that. "Or...for the love of...never mind, let me do that. Hope no one sees. Close your eyes. Close them, close them." Discreetly, and with no one apparently looking, Georgette wiped Sadako's mouth clean with her tongue, a soft hush on her lips. "Better?"
"Ooh la la!" Cheikh said with a whistle. "You two together?"
Georgette and Sadako laid knowing looks and smiles before nodding at Cheikh, unhappy with his intrusiveness. "They are, leave them alone, Cheikh, let them do what they want," Pascal replied.
"Okay, well, a pleasure talking to you, enjoy your meal and the match and your stay here in Paris."
"Are you heading off anywhere?" Sadako asked, munching on her toast.
"Taking the Metro to Gare Lyon to take a train to Lyon later tonight," he replied. "We won't be here for long."
"Nice talking with you. Have a safe journey."
"Merci, Miss, thank you."
"This hamburger is really good, it's like it melts in your mouth or something," Georgette said.
"Did you order dessert as well?"
"I left a note..." Pierre brought in two plates of cheesecake. "And got us this."
"Cheesecake."
"Salted caramel. Requested a few dashings of cinnamon because I can feel the burning passion in this city. It's energetic and amazing."
"Let's take our time then. Kickoff is at 21:00 local time," Sadako said, looking at her issued iPhone. "So this is what people use to communicate in this timeframe and dimension. Cute looking, I like it. And it even has my insignia."
"Mine's too, and it even has a super-deformed version of me with the ears and tail," Jose replied. "So flattered."
"Let's finish eating, then."
"Let's!"
An hour later, the two of them made their walk towards the stadium. "My belly is so full from that meal. That was an amazing meal and I saw some sports I never knew were possible, stuff that we don't have where we are, except maybe the football and running," Sadako said with a sigh.
"Well, I won't feel exhausted for a while, that's for sure," Jose said. "Hmmm?" As they walked, they saw in the distance a mob of men and women with flags and a few flares singing and clapping loudly.
"Ensemble nous sommes invincibles,
Unis par la même passion,
De notre virage, terrible,
S'élèvent en chœur nos chansons,
En rouge & bleu allez, en rouge & bleu allez.
En rouge & bleu allez, en rouge & bleu allez.
Ensemble nous sommes invincibles,
Unis par la même passion,
De notre virage, terrible,
S'élèvent en chœur nos chansons,
En rouge & bleu allez, en rouge & bleu allez.
En rouge & bleu allez, en rouge & bleu allez!"
"Such a beautiful chant made by very proud men," Jose said, sighing. "Where are we seated by the way?"
"I think we are in the section called Club Vendome. Maybe we should ask one of the staff here."
"Excuse me?" asked Jose to one of the stadium staff. "Sir?"
"Yes?" he asked.
"We have been given passes to the Club Vendome section of Le Parc, can you direct us there?"
"Hmmm. It seems the boss has invited you two somehow. Follow me, this way."
"The boss? Who is the boss?" Sadako asked.
"You will actually meet him in person later after the match with Monaco. Follow me." The two of them followed the attendant to a pathway leading to the boxes.
"By the way, what is your name?"
"I am Jean, a member of the Parc des Princes security."
"Sadako, a visitor from Japan. My friend here is Georgette, she is my chaperone and is from...where are you again, Jose?"
"Barenton," she said.
"Barenton, Normandy," Sadako clarified.
"Okay. By the way, this is one of the richest clubs in Europe, where you're heading to is a very exclusive place and it's a beautiful suite, you'll love it. First time?"
"Yes, sir," they both said.
"Then this will blow. Your. Mind."
"I don't like this looks of this, Sada," Jose groaned through Jean's deep guffaws.
"Brace yourself, Jose."
"Aaaand, here we are!" said Jean, showing Georgette and Sadako the VIP suite entrance. "This is Club Vendome, part of the Executive Club."
Jose gasped. "Wow! It's like a futuristic mansion! The Countess would feel right at home here, I can't believe it!"
"Implying she would even be," Sadako snarked. "Are you sure?"
"Countess, you say?" Jean asked Georgette.
"Never mind, she is from out of this country. A friend of mine from, uh...ah! Germany, Germany, yes that's it, Germany."
"Oh, the noisy neighbors, I don't worry about them. So, the match is in two hours, enjoy yourselves, your assigned seats are down there, we have some staff member that is ready to assist you and answer questions and after the game you'll get to meet our boss."
"But who is the boss?" Sadako wondered.
"I said you will find out. I won't spoil anything."
"Okay, sure thing then..."
"And remember, Ici C'est..."
"Paris," the two of them said in a monotonous tone.
"Thank you. Adieu!" And there went Jean.
"Ahhhh, goodness me, sometimes this is all too much for a country girl like myself, I could never feel right at home here," said Georgette, looking around the suite, seeing photos of past glories, the different variations of the crest all over the halls, the plush sofas and television screens of other events. She then took a seat, draping an arm over her head. "It can be overwhelming."
"Well, we're just getting used to this place, this dimension, timeframe and all that; it's not so bad, Jose," Sadako said, grabbing a bottle of water to drink. "The food and drink is real. That's a start."
"Lies are just so unappetizing. What makes the truth so delicious that it may as well be manna from heaven is that it really does set you free."
"Just like you, to me, oui, oui, oui," Sadako purred. "I love your philosophy."
"Oh stop Sada, not now, you naughty, poetic thing!" Jose shot back, pulling back with a cat pose.
"And...that cat pose. You stop, melting my heart, oh mon coeur, and pulling me apart!"
"And leave the dramatics for the chamber at the hotel, if you don't mind."
"Sigh...fine." Sadako grabbed some more bottles and a few appetizers and the two of them watched some more random sports news, including some local football news and European football news. "Still, this world we are in is quite different than the one we know. Everything is faster and more sophisticated. And yet in some ways it's not too different. It's somewhere in between."
After about 10 minutes, the two of them opened some glass doors and took their seats by the pitch. "What a view," Jose said, seeing the arrangement of color, the seats designed to be a virtual extension of the crest, Eiffel and all. "This is amazing. So this is what a football stadium looks like from the inside."
"Ah, there's the players," said Sadako, seeing the players from PSG walking on to the pitch for warmups, followed by the visitors from AS Monaco. "They are preparing for the game by doing drills. Look!"
Georgette looked around and saw some players going up and down, one in particular with light to medium skin, a similarly youthful build and a spring in his step, one with the No. 15 assigned to him. She watched him juggle the ball, take some shots, dribble, run, touch and go. The young man noticed that she was watching and after his turn with the drills, he caught her attention.
"Waouh! Haaah!" Jose's heart started to skip a beat, her pulse quickening as her body heat shot up. The man nodded and gave a wink, causing Jose to sigh and close her eyes, whispering in a girlish tone with girlish number. "He's so cute and dreamy...mon frere...o...hah, onii-chan..."
"D...did you just say onii-chan!?" Sadako exclaimed, alarmed incredulously as the players continued to warm up. "Are you all right? Are you okay? Jose? Jose~~~?" No use, the man's youthful charm put Georgette to sleep, imagining she had found her long-lost big brother. If she even had one of note! "Onii-chan...? Really...?" And she would not wake for a while...
...until later. "Jose, are you awake? Oy! Jose, wake up already!"
She finally opened her eyes. "Eh? What happened? Did I sleep though something? I have no idea."
"You slept through an entire match, Jose. Take a look at the scoreboard."
"I did? Um..." Georgette took a look. "Paris Saint-Germain 1...AS Monaco 1. I don't think I really slept through much but I did dream I was in a football simulation landscape developed by Ursula Hartmann from Karsland."
"I know her through Commander Rall, but...you actually slept through the whole match and never paid attention? At all? How did?"
Her head tilted to the side. "No, I guess I didn't." She looked in the distance. "And...the seats are empty." There were just floodlights illuminating the cold grass pitch, a lone groundskeeper tending the grasses, and a video scoreboard showing the score set to Kavinsky's "Nightcall." An instrumental version. "I think everybody left. There's no one here."
"Exactly, it's been 20 minutes since the match ended! Right..." Sadako took Georgette's hand. "Let's go home. Or, to our hotel room. The way this match played out was disgusting. What a waste of time."
"Um, okay...I guess I was smart to sleep through this one then...I guess it can't be helped," she said with a sight.
But before that could all happen...a voice. "Excuse me, ladies?"
They turned. "Eh?" Georgette asked.
A tall man with medium-dark skin, a black bouffant and a light smile to go with a coat, slacks and boots. "Follow me," he said in French with a distinct accent.
"Uh, sure." Jose and Sada went to follow the man upstairs to the patio at the Club Vendome.
"Please allow me, first, to express my heartfelt apologies. I must take responsibility for letting the players and coaches fail to satisfy you in terms of giving you a proper demonstration of knowledge of the sport. I am truly sorry on behalf of all of them. This is my fault. Please acknowledge it."
"No need to be sorry, we, well, ahahahah, we aren't that affected by it?" Jose asked Sadako. "What do I tell him, Sada? He seems to not be from here!"
"On the contrary young lady," he said.
Georgette turned, alarmed. "Eh? Who are you?" she asked, mesmerized.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nasser Ghanim Al-Khelaifi. I am the chairman and chief executive officer of the Paris Saint-Germain Football Club."
Sadako looked to Georgette in surprise. "He...is the boss."
"He is the boss," Jose said.
"He..."
"Is..."
Both of them turned to Nasser, shocked beyond all belief. "THE BOSS!?"
"Yes," he said. "I am the boss. But please, ladies, you may call me Nasser." He beamed, bowing.
Georgette had no idea what to do. She was heating up again and was about to lose her mind. Sadako looked at her, concerned. "Oh...mon...DIEU!"
END CHAPTER 3