Content - One part of this chapter may become uncomfortable for some readers. I encourage you to read through it. Watch for the bold time break...

Long auburn hair that was normally tied back in a ponytail was now several inches shorter, wavy and lose. The woman at the hair salon across the street from the hotel didn't speak any English but understood exactly what Chelsea wanted. Her hair flowed over the lacy shoulders of a black mini-dress. Nervous fingers fidgeted with the zipper at the back.

"While you were getting your hair done, I posted a few more things on my Stone Wall. Nothing from the beach, I didn't know how comfortable you would be with pictures of your bikini," Trevor said as Chelsea stepped out of the small bedroom. "I have some queued up, but if you don't want—"

"Can you help me with this?" she asked. "I can't get the zipper to budge."

Trevor stood motionless as Chelsea let her arms drape to her side. His eye scanned the dress from the lace neckline to the hem that cut across her legs at mid-thigh.

"Wow..." he stammered. "I can't remember what I was saying."

Chelsea bit her lip and closed her eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders before stepping behind her.

"It's the hair and makeup and this dress," she replied.

"No... it's more than that; it's you, the way you're smiling right now, everything," Trevor said as his fingers located the tab of the zipper.

"I think I got it stuck on some material or something," she said as he started to work the zipper free. "I trust you. Post whatever you want."

Trevor secured a hook at the top of the opening then pulled the zipper up the last two inches to close the back of the dress. His hands gently moved across her shoulders then down to her waist. She could feel his breath on her neck, moving towards her right ear.

"You look amazing," he whispered.

The words tickled. She giggled and lifted her shoulder to shelter her ear. His hands moved to her stomach, wrapping her in his arms. He pulled her body in tight, his chin resting on her right shoulder. They stood motionless for a moment, lingering in the silence. She felt the warmth of his body against her and melted back into him.

"We had better get going to dinner. If we keep this up, we might never leave the room," Trevor whispered before he kissed her cheek.

*****

As Trevor paid the dinner bill, Chelsea said, "I wasn't thinking. That Caesar Salad probably made my breath a bit—"

Trevor leaned across the table and gently kissed her, "Nope. You're good."

Chelsea giggled. She had expected he might lean in for a sniff of her breath, not a kiss. It was just a peck, but it was more than enough to set her heart back a beat or two.

"Where to now?" she asked with a coy smile.

"Back to the hotel? Or, perhaps you want to go back to that other place for desert. The one we checked out the first night."

"Oh, that camel place, Le Chameau something. That desert platter looked delicious," she said as Trevor tapped on the screen of his phone. "You're finally checking those text messages? Now?"

"No, finding out what the name of that place is. Here it is, Le Chameau Ivre."

"What do you think that means?" She asked, seeing boyish curiosity that dominated his face.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with camels, but let's see what Google Translate says... wait it thinks Chameau is a name, so I'll change the C to lower case – yup, The Drunken Camel," he replied with a laugh.

Trevor held Chelsea's hand as they crossed Avenue Alphonse Mas and made their way between the buildings to Rue de la Citadelle. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arm around his and leaned against him. Their pace slowed as they passed under the strings of light that zig zagged overhead. An elderly lady smiled then wrapped her arm around her husband's, seemingly inspired by the young couple as they passed.

"Bonsoir," Trevor said.

Soon they arrived at Boulevard Jean Jaurés and entered the restaurant.

*****

Trevor ignored the chime on his phone that announced yet another text message as he entered the hotel room, then dropped the phone onto the night table. Chelsea had slipped into the bathroom a few seconds earlier and could be heard brushing her teeth, apparently still concerned that her dinner choice would turn him away. A quick peck was one thing, but she hoped their next kiss might last a little longer and didn't want to risk it being cut short by any lingering onion and garlic.

"Now you've got me self-conscious," he said as he slipped past her to enter the bathroom after she exited.

"I know, I kind of killed the mood but I just..." she responded as she kicked off her shoes. "Did you post those pictures you were waiting on?"

"Yeah, I hit post as we were leaving for dinner," Trevor replied after he had rinsed his mouth. "I just got a text from Dave. He probably saw the pictures."

When Trevor returned to the main part of the main room, he wrapped Chelsea in his arms and pulled her in close. She tilted her head back as he leaned forward to bring his lips to hers. A brief kiss was followed by a long gaze.

"Mmmmm, minty fresh," she giggled before bringing her lips back to his.

Trevor's hand cradled her neck, his thumb gently stroking behind Chelsea's left ear as his mouth softly moved against her lips. Her hands moved along his ribs, her fingers gently gripping and tugging at his shirt. She felt dizzy and needed to breathe. Her lips broke from his as she tilted her head into his hand; his lips found her neck and continued kissing her. As she drew in a breath, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't help but sigh as she exhaled.

The next time Chelsea's lips left Trevor's she was working his shirt up his chest. She ran her fingers over his bare skin as he gently opened the zipper on the back of her dress. He kissed her forehead then her lips as he guided the dress off her shoulders and down her body, never letting it just fall to the floor. He kissed her chest then her stomach as he guided the dress south. She stepped out of the dress then watched as he gently draped it over the chair to his right.

Chelsea's fingers trembled lightly at the waist of his pants. They refused to work. Refused to release his belt. He waited a moment then opened his belt and pants himself. Soon they stood in each other's embrace, he in just his white boxers and she in her black lace bra and panties. Fingers and lips moved over flesh, both breathing heavily as their mouths came together once more. His hands move to her back and at that moment, as he released the clasps of her bra with his groin pressed against her belly, she felt his desire for her. There was no mistaking where this was leading, and a surge of doubt swept its way into her. She felt her bra loosen and slip off her breasts and her body started to tremble.

He wanted her. She tried to convince herself that this was the reason she followed him to Europe. She drew in a stuttered breath and tried to compel herself to say 'no' but couldn't breathe the word. This is what she wanted since she first saw him at school a year and a half earlier. She was sure he would be mad. She was being a child, a tease. Her heart raced. She would lose him. She had to let this happen; she wanted it to happen. Even as her arms pressed against her sides, attempting to stop her bra from slipping off her body, she could not bring herself to say the word. She closed her eyes tight and tilted her head forward as she felt his fingers move along the straps of her bra.

The bra moved and soon it felt tight and awkward around her. Trevor's fingers fumbled with the clasps then fixed the straps over her shoulders. His right hand slipped under her chin and lifted her head. He kissed her forehead again. Her tear-filled eyes met his then closed tight as she started to cry.

"I'll let you fix the girls yourself," he said as the fingers of his left hand slipped out from under the straps just above her breast.

She dropped to the bed, sitting and adjusting her bra as Trevor stepped near and knelt on the floor in front of her. She felt his hands on her legs, his fingers caressing her knees.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm... I'm..."

"No, don't be sorry. You're not ready. I was moving too fast, I'm sorry."

"You probably think I'm"—she took a deep breath—"being a tease."

"I think you're scared, and that's okay," he replied as her eyes met his.

"I don't know why... I just..."

"Don't worry, I know you want something, but maybe not this, not now. I'm not going to lie, I want this. I do... But I don't want to be something you regret."

Chelsea placed her hands on his and nodded. She fought to bring herself under control.

"I can wait," he added.

"I thought... I..." she struggled to form the words.

Chelsea curled up on her side at the edge of the bed with her eyes fixed on the night table beside her. Trevor gently lowered himself to the bed and propped his body up on his left elbow and gazing down on her with a hand gently placed on her hip. She rolled onto her back and he got comfortable on his side against her. His fingertips caressed her skin.

"When we're seventy years old and laying in bed I want you to turn to me and say something like," Trevor changed his voice to that of an elderly lady, "oh Trevor, that was amazing, you still rock my world. It always reminds me of our first time, do you remember that?"

"That's how I'm going to sound when I'm seventy?" she said with a shaky laugh.

"Maybe. Well, hopefully not... But then I'll say, honey, I don't remember much but our first time is something I'll never forget. And then, you'll say, oh cripes, your quickie took forty-five minutes, hurry up and put some pants on, Trudy and Richard will be here in five minutes."

"Forty-five minutes, really? And, who's Trudy and Richard? The neighbors we play cards with? And, why do I sound like a cranky old lady, but you sound like a suave gentleman."

"Grandkids, maybe great grandkids... I didn't do the math, could we have great grandchildren at seventy? I suppose so..."

"When I bought it, I didn't realize how much you can see through this bra," she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"You really can't see through it," Trevor replied

The index finger of Trevor's right hand traced a circle around her belly button as his phone chimed again. His eyes remained fixed on hers then moved slowly towards her feet. She watched as he surveyed her body. Her left hand moved towards her abdomen, she hesitated and fought the back the urge to cover herself, to have her fingers hide what she believed her panties did not. The feelings of being exposed, nearly naked, dissipated when he didn't let his gaze linger.

When the fingers of his right hand moved down her abdomen and started to slip under her panties, a brief and fleeting wisp of concern drifted through her, evaporating when his hand smoothed out the doubled over fabric of the waist band. His finger returned to drawing patterns around her navel soon afterwards then gently brushed along her side.

"Are you cold?" he asked when she shivered.

"No, that just sort of tickled," she replied as the phone chimed again.

The phone announced another text message, but Trevor continued to gaze at Chelsea, his fingers now tracing the lines of her face as if her were sketching her in his book. She liked the feeling of his fingers moving over her skin. She took a deep breath as he followed the contours of her neck, drawing the shape of her collar bone and shoulder. His eyes remained focused where his fingers moved over her.

She expected him to gaze at her breasts, even take liberties of tracing their shape and features as he had on her face and neck, but after a brief glimpse, his eyes returned to hers. As their lips came together again and moved against each other his phone chimed repeatedly.

"You realize they're just going to keep sending you texts until you respond," she said after their lips drew apart.

"You think I should read them and reply?" he said as he returned to his elevated posture.

"Yes, then maybe we can kiss for a few minutes without that thing buzzing at us."

"Better yet, I'll just turn it off."

AN - I hope that wasn't too uncomfortable for some of my readers. I believe this is a struggle some girls face in a similar situation and hope they find the strength to use their voice. Not all Trevors are as understanding.