Il Curieux

Shirley in Paris

My colleague Shirley Chan is enjoying a vacation in France, lucky girl.  I’ve been drooling over her pictures of Paris.  It is, perhaps, my favorite city, and the scene of an unforgettable night.

So pull up a chair, kids, and let me tell you a story.

One lovely night in Paris (I think it was in the late 80s or early 90s), my wife turned in after a long day of touring, shopping and, of course, eating and drinking.  I was not ready to say, “Bon nuit.”

I had seen a number of well-dressed people going into a club down the street from our hotel.  The club was called “Il Curieux.”  I was.  So I went.

It turned out it was a sex club.  Not a strip joint, but a sex club.  There was an elaborately staged sex show with costumed “performers,” and a room full of appreciative patrons.

I ordered une bière, and had had no more than a sip or two when the maitre d’ suddenly introduced me to “Sara,” and ushered us to a well-upholstered horseshoe booth to enjoy the show.  Sara snuggled to my right, laying her head on my shoulder.  My French is limited, and Sara’s English was non-existent, so it was difficult trying to explain to her that I wasn’t in the market for extra-curricular activity.

“Ma femme est dans le hotel down the street.  I must retournez to ma femme.”

Sara (who was an incredibly attractive though heavily-perfumed young lady) seemed to understand what I was saying.  After 10 minutes of watching a sex show with a complete stranger, we left the booth.

The maitre d’ came up to me, looked me in the eye, and asked, with the most serious of expressions, a question I will never forget.

“Monsieur, do you understand you can leave with the ladies?”

I wanted to laugh out loud, but I didn’t want to offend.  I assured him I understood, and I assured him that I had assured my wife that I was just going out for a drink, and would return to our room fairly quickly.  Turning up the next morning would not be, to use the French word, acceptable.

I walked back to the hotel.  Standing outside, having a cigarette, I fingered the matchbook from the club.  A cabdriver sitting in his car saw it, and asked, “Did you go there?”  “Oui.”  “Next time, go to Le Piano Bar.  The girls and the drinks are much cheaper.”   I smiled.  “Good to know.  Merci.”

In the morning, my wife asked where I went.

“Smell the right shoulder of my blue blazer, then I’ll tell you a story.”

I hope Shirley comes back with some good stories of her own.

After all, it’s springtime in Paris.

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About Gerry

I've been covering Connecticut news and sports since 1974. I know, I don't look that old.
This entry was posted in It's all about me, Living in the Past, People, Travel and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Il Curieux

  1. lunaticmagnet says:

    great story gerry. thanks.

  2. Steve L says:

    To be able to come back and tell that story to your wife, indicates a very strong marriage. You are a lucky guy. She’s a keeper!!

  3. Yvonne says:

    Alex doesn’t believe you, he wants the address. Strictly for verification purposes, of course.

  4. Terry says:

    oohhh la la

  5. Cat says:

    LOL,,, I’m sorry,, I tried real hard to get this seductive vision in my head but it kept coming out like a comedy.. : D
    You did indeed marry an angel..
    Its great to see such trust in your marriage.
    Thank you for giving us a chuckle.
    ~A Blessed Easter~ to you both….

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