Oh my God, today is THE day! My heart is racing at a hundred miles an hour just thinking about heading off alone to the Landes. At 18, my first real solo adventure… I’m so excited I can barely sit still. My big backpack is ready, my TGV ticket is safe in my phone, and here I am heading to Gare Montparnasse.
For the trip, I treated myself: a tiny ultra-short and super tight pair of shorts that hug my ass perfectly and show off my tanned legs (yeah, I know, it’s provocative, but I love feeling eyes sliding over me). On top, a thin, fitted tank top that hints at just enough of my curves. I’m obsessed with that feeling when guys sneak glances at me—it gives me shivers deep inside.
The station is its usual chaos, but I find my TGV without any trouble. Car 12, window seat… perfect. I settle in, stash my bag, and that’s when I notice the guy sitting next to me. Wow. Mid-forties, slim glasses, neat mustache, shirt open just enough to show a chest that still looks pretty good. He has this serious-but-warm vibe, and when he smiles at me my stomach does a little flip. “Hello,” he says in a deep voice that already has an effect on me.
Of course I flash him my brightest smile. “Hi!” And just like that, the conversation starts flowing. His name is Gilles. He works in Paris and goes back to Bordeaux every weekend to see his wife and kids. Classy, calm, with a voice that almost caresses my ears. We talk about everything: my trip, psychology studies, the couchsurfing I’m going to try after my first safe night at a friend’s cousin’s place. He chuckles softly when I explain the concept, and his gaze lingers a little too long on my crossed legs.
From that moment… I don’t know, something lights up inside me. I feel like playing. Just a little. Because it feels way too good.
I lean in closer to show him a photo of the Landes beaches on my phone, and my tank top slips down just enough to give him a perfect downblouse view. I feel his eyes linger, and I smile to myself. I slowly uncross and recross my legs, letting my shorts ride up another centimeter, pretending I don’t notice. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear while holding his gaze a beat too long, laugh at his jokes and let my hand rest on his forearm for one second too many.
“You go back to your family every weekend? It must be hard being away from them…” I say in a softer, almost whispered voice, fluttering my lashes just a bit. He blushes slightly—it’s adorable. He replies that yes, but the journey goes by quickly with good company. And right then, his gaze drops back to my thighs. A warm little flutter rises in my belly.
I keep up my little game the whole trip: I bend over to grab my water bottle from my bag, I “innocently” stretch by arching my back a little, I let my fingers trail along the armrest right next to his. At one point our hands brush “by accident” and I look at him with a sly little smile without pulling away right away. He smells good—woody, masculine. I almost imagine what it would feel like if he really put his hand on my thigh… but no, we stay (mostly) well-behaved.
Time flies insanely fast. Bordeaux is already here, and I feel a tiny pang of disappointment. Gilles offers to help me with my bag when we get off; his hand brushes my back as he lifts it. “Be careful with the couchsurfing, a pretty girl like you…” he murmurs almost under his breath, with a smile that says a lot.
I give him one last little wink as I step down. “Thanks for the ride, Gilles… it was really nice.” And I walk away, swaying my hips just a bit more, so he can get one final look.
This adventure is off to a seriously good start. Tonight, quiet night, but tomorrow… tomorrow is when it really begins. And I’m already getting so hot just thinking about it. 😏