Part Eight
Attraction

Trenton woke up again and stretched luxuriously, eyes still closed. He smiled sleepily, remembering what he'd done, and seen. He thought it was particularly appropriate that voyeur was a French word.

"Vous ressemblez un chat." A little startled, Trenton opened his eyes to find Anatole, fully dressed, standing over him once again. Damn, the man could move quietly. "Bonjour, Soleil. Avez-vous bien dormi?"

"Pretty good." Trenton suddenly realized that sometime during the night his sheet had slipped. It was low on his belly. In fact, a thin line of brown curls marked where his pubic area lay, barely hidden. He snatched the sheet up to a more decent level.

Anatole shook his head. "Aucun besoin d'être timide." He shrugged. "We're very informal here, Trehn-tonne."

*Wow. I didn't realize my name could sound so sexy.* Anton stood there a moment more, and Trenton fidgited. At last he said, "So I'm like a cat, huh?"

"Un grand, fauve chat," Anatole agreed. He turned and headed for the door. "No need to hurry. Maman does not cook breakfast on the weekend. We must fend for ourselves."

Trenton waited till he had gone, then got up quickly and slipped on the robe his Mom had gotten him as a going away gift. He hadn't figured on using it, but he was a little sticky *big surprise, Trent*, and wanted a shower before he put on fresh underwear.

He chose his clothes then, after a moment's hesitation, dug his soiled underwear out of the wastepaper basket. Madame Bienvenue occasionally tidied the room, and he'd dig his own grave so he could die of embarrassment if she found such an item. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with them, but he tucked them inside his fresh clothes and carried them out to the bathroom.

Trenton showered quickly, mindful that he didn't use up all the hot water. That done, he stood and studied himself in the mirror critically. A cat, huh? Well, there were the green eyes, of course. And he'd been starting to get some cheekbones in the last year. The last of the puppyfat was finally burning away with all the exercise he got swimming, he supposed. *Lots of changes in the last year or so. Now I have bushes in my pits, and I'm getting a sprinkle on my arms and chest.* He frowned. *Legs are still almost as smooth as a girl's, though. Oh, well, less drag in the water.*

He rubbed his chin and jaw experimentally. Yes, there was stubble. It was growing in a deep reddish gold. Weird. He would have thought it would be the same color of his pubes, but they were darker brown. He tried to decide if it was growing faster than it had been. Must be. He'd shaved yesterday. Clive must be right, he'd have to start shaving every day now.

The thought pleased him. *One step closer to being a man. One step closer to Clive.* He shaved, then dressed. Then he contemplated the now tacky undershorts. What the hell was he going to do with them? Wash them in the sink? Then how would he explain sopping underpants in the laundry? Maybe if he smuggled them into a load that was about to be done instead of leaving them in his hamper...

He wadded them up tight and stuffed them in his pocket, then went downstairs. The smell of bacon frying wafted up to greet him as he descended, and he sniffed hungrily. As Anatole had said, he'd noticed that Mrs. Bienvenue slept in on Saturdays, and he'd become used to toast or cold cereal for breakfast on those days. But he was really hungry this morning, and the idea of a full breakfast made his mouth water.

Chloe was at the table, working her way through a bowl of candy colored cereal. Anatole was taking a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. "Est un ok d'omlette de fromage ?"

"Better than good." Trenton sat at the table, and helped himself to a piece of bacon from a plate piled high with thick strips.

"How many eggs?"

"Three."

Anatole smiled. "Vous appréciez votre nourriture. Sont tous vos appétits si chaleureux?"

Trenton wasn't quite sure what he meant, but he answered, "I guess so," agreeably. He watched as the older man whisked eggs and poured them into a shallow, sizzling pan. He took a package of grated cheese from the refrigerator, then tipped the pan, lifting the eggs with a spatula so that the raw matter ran under, to be cooked in turn. Finally he sprinkled the eggs with cheese and herbs, folded it neatly, and slipped it onto a plate. He did all this with a confident ease that Trenton couldn't help but admire. He didn't cook. His mom told him that he was a hazard in the kitchen. He'd either have to find someone to cook for him, or live off of sandwiches and take out when he moved out on his own.

*I ought to learn. I bet Elise would help me. She's bound to like the idea of a man who can cook as well as eat. Then maybe I could make dinner for Clive sometimes.* The cozy domestic scene this called up convinced Trenton. He was going to learn to cook, and cook well.

Anatole set the plate down in front of Trenton, and got himself a cup of coffee before sitting beside the boy. He watched as Trenton devoured the eggs. "It is good to see my cooking appreciated. Chloe..." he nodded at the little girl, who stuck her tongue out at him. "That brat prefers a bowl of sugar lumps to a decent omlette."

"Then she's not much different than I was at her age." Chloe gave him a brilliant, though milk coated, smile as she took her empty bowl to the sink. She giggled at him again, then left.

"Je pense que Chloe est dans l'amour avec vous." Trenton blushed, and Anatole continued. "It's perfectly natural. Vous êtes très beau. Vous devez briser des coeurs, droite et à gauche."

Trenton was mopping up the last of his eggs with a piece of toast when Anatole reached over, hooked a finger in his pocket, and dragged out the underwear. Trent froze, turning a little green.

Anatole studied the jockeys, then said, "Trehn-tonne, do you always carry underwear about with you?"

"I... uh..."

Anatole shook his head. "Why didn't you just leave them in the hamper? You don't think Maman will be shocked by a few stains, do you? She had to wash my things while I was growing up, you know." Anatole took the garment to the laundry room and returned.

"I just don't want anyone to think I'm a perv." Trenton mumbled.

"Why would we think that? I would more likely think you odd if you didn't pleasure yourself occasionally." Mr. and Mrs. Bienvenue, dressed but yawning, came in then. They greeted their son with pecks on the cheek and affectionate murmurs. Anatole obligingly began to fix breakfast for them.

"When did you get here, son?" his father asked. "You must have gotten up at the crack of dawn."

"I arrived last night, Father, and let myself in. I am afraid I startled poor Trenton."

"I'm hoping you can spend some time with the boy, show him around. Your mother and I can't do much right now. We made a lot of obligations when we thought there would be no exchange student this term. We can't back out now."

"Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to spend some time with Trehn-tonne. What would you like to do today, mon ami?"

"I need to find a pool where I can practice regularly. I'm on the swim team, and I promised my coach I wouldn't slack off. He thinks I have a chance of making the Olympic trials. I just need to shave a fraction or two off my time."

"Bon. There is one nearby. And some time later this year, perhaps you can spend some time with me at the university. My club has an excellent pool there."

"Great. I'd like to see how a French college is different from an American one. What are you studying?"

"Art."

"Cool. I wish I was creative."

"I'm sure you have your talents. Perhaps you just haven't discovered them yet."

"I'm glad you came home this weekend, Anatole," his mother said. "Your father and I are going out with the Cloissanelles this evening, and Chloe has a sleep over with one of her little friends. Now Trenton will not be alone."

Anatole glanced at the boy. Trenton was just finishing a glass of milk, and he had a thin mustache of the white liquid. As Anatole watched, the boy's tongue darted out, cat like, and licked it away. He smiled. "I think I can keep him amused."

French translations:

"Vous ressemblez un chat." You look like a cat.
"Un grand, fauve chat," A big, tawny cat.
"Bonjour, Soleil. Avez-vous bien dormi?" Good morning, Sunshine. Did you sleep well?
"Aucun besoin d'être timide." No need to be shy.
"Vous devez briser des coeurs, droite et à gauche." You must break hearts, right and left.
"Est un ok d'omlette de fromage ?" Is a cheese omlette okay?"
"Vous appréciez votre nourriture. sont tous vos appétits si chaleureux?" You enjoy your food. Are all your appetites so hearty?
"Je pense que Chloe est dans l'amour avec vous." I think Chloe is in love with you.
"Vous êtes très beau." You are very beautiful.
"mon ami" my friend
"bon" good