I could feel it in my chest and in my stomach when I looked at her. Yes, I could feel it somewhere else, too. It would be hard sleeping apart from her...tonight. Yes, I thought ruefully, it was going to be hard, alright.Looking at my lovely Patrice, I thought, and she's probably going to be wet. I smiled at that thought."What's so funny?" Patrice asked."Oh, nothing," I offered, but she wasn't letting me off that easily."Come on, tell me," she pleaded.Patrice's words had gotten the attention of. From behind me, as I grabbed the door handle, his voice menacingly warned, ‘You better not, or you won’t have job to come back to.’ My smile quickly vanished. Nothing like a good reality check to dampen a mood. Good old Mr. Morrison, he always knew how to smother happiness. I met Deborah Coultier everyday for lunch, for the next week. She took me to the most ridiculously expensive and posh stores in the city, explaining what styles were in fashion in France, what styles were appropriate for the. More

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