On the upper floor of the house are a number of bedrooms, three opulent bathrooms, and a huge balcony, which we head out to now.
The outside space is sublime. Beautiful miniature trees, all threaded with soft, warm fairy lights, and plants line the glass safety barrier, meaning the view isn’t of the noisy city streets below, but a romantic snapshot of the Paris rooftops.
Vani joins us and stares ahead, as she claps her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she exclaims.
It’s about the third time she’s said that, and I smile affectionately. It seems as if it’s all she’s capable of saying at the moment. I follow her line of sight, and my smile widens.
She’s looking right at the Eiffel Tower. The location is the main reason I was amenable to hiring this place. It’s across the road from the Trocadero, and what could be more romantic if you’re staying in Paris than being able to see the Eiffel Tower all lit up at night, and during the festive period it’s also decorated with thousands of sparkling lights. Once darkness falls over the city, it will be a stunning sight. It’s midafternoon now, and the light is already dimming.
Wandering to the glass, Vani stands between two bushes which are about five feet high and looks out across the city.
“I can’t believe I’m here, in Paris.” She turns to us, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This is the best gift you could ever get me.”
I walk over and wrap my arms around her from behind, bending down to kiss her neck. “Merry Christmas, baby. Why don’t we christen the bedrooms?” I ask cheekily.
She turns to me, a smile playing on her full lips. “Fine by me, so long as this evening we go out. Ooh, I need to get online later. I want to know what the best things to do are.”
Shaking my head, laughing softly, I remind her, “You have two guides here. Saint and me.”
“Oh, yeah.” Giggling, she turns fully so her face is pressed into the side of my neck. “Silly me. I kind of forgot.”
“There is one room I’ve not shown you yet.” Saint holds up a dark gold key.
I frown. I didn’t know there were any other rooms than the ones we’ve seen.
“When you book, you can pay an optional extra five thousand euros to get access to the very top room in the house. It’s the level above the bedrooms. I do believe it was an old attic room, and it’s been converted.”
“Into what?” Vani asks. “For five thousand euros, I hope its gold plated and filled with chocolate.”
“Why don’t we go see?” Saint grins. “You’ll like it.”
He leads us to an elevator and hits the button for the top floor.
Swooshing up silently, the elevator belies the ancient townhouse and must have been put in only recently. When it hits the top floor, it opens with a resonantping.
I step out first and take in the space around me. There’s no sign of it being Christmas in here except for one festive touch. The walls are covered in what looks like padded black leather, with a crisscross stitching pattern all over, and gold buttons in the center of every cross.
Floor to ceiling shelves are lined with books, which, when I look closer, are erotic photography books, erotica, romancenovels, books about sex, chocolate, and every decadent thing you can imagine.
Tables to the sides have bowls filled with condoms, chocolates, and rose petals.
The bed is what dominates the space, though. It’s huge and four-poster, but not of the old fashioned kind. It’s comprised of black metal, with rings hanging from the top frame. This is where the only bit of Christmas lurks, as there is a length of red tinsel wrapped around the upper metal bars. Underneath the base of the bed is a cage, and at the bottom of the bed there’s a Saint Andrew’s cross.
The headboard stands out, a deep red, padded velvet, and the bedding is deep red satin to match.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe. “A dedicated playroom.”
“Ah-ha. Told you it was worth the money for this place.” Saint smirks.
Vani is staring at the bed as if it has grown teeth and is snapping at her. “You’re not putting me in that thing.” She points to the cage.
Zane signs.That’s for Saint, if he is bad.
I snort. It would actually do my twin some good to spend a few hours in there.
“There are toys,” Saint says. He wanders nonchalantly over to the drawers and pulls one open, taking out a massive dildo.
“Ewww.” Vani makes a gagging sound. “I’m not using someone’s secondhand toys.”
