Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

9. France's Rumor

January 15, 1959

Undisclosed Residence

Paris, France

"Perhaps not such a 'special relationship' after all."

The suggestive tone in France's voice echoed around the bathroom of his swanky Parisian penthouse. I lifted my hand out of the bath and flicked some water at him, to which he reacted with predictable drama. The sleeve of his fluffy robe muffled his string of curses as he dried his scruffy cheek.

"I am correct," he taunted, leaning against the bathtub. "Last week you were with him, and now you are here...with me."

His voice matched the mischievous look in his eyes. I placed my arms on the cool porcelain rim of the bathtub and rested my chin on them. This made France and I just about eye level. He raised his eyebrow over the rim of his wine glass.

"I can't visit Europe without seeing you," I began sweetly. "Besides, you go around with other Nations guilt-free."

This bothered him more than expected. His eyes glowered as he set his glass down on the tile floor, and he pursed his lips. "Well, I happen to know that you are very picky about your lovers."

I laughed and scoffed at the same time.

"That is why I was disappointed..."

My eyes darted back to his face. "About me and England?"

"Non, mon Dieu." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "About that rumor..."

I leaned back and gave him a serious look. Though France was the chief gossip of my acquaintance, he was usually more direct. He broke eye contact and cleared his throat.

"You and...Allemagne."

"What?" I breathed in complete shock. "That is a complete and utter lie!"

His expression was doubtful.

I scoffed in frustration. "It is true that I've made some trips to West Germany since the NATO summit but I've barely seen Germany. I barely even saw him during the occupation," I rambled. "Good God, who said that?"

"It does not matter," he muttered despondently. "If you deny it...I believe you."

I relaxed instantly. The rumor mill in Europe was swift and merciless, so it was neigh impossible to determine the origins of such a ridiculous notion. It took me a full minute to realize that France was still brooding.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "He's our ally now. Yours too."

Avoiding my gaze, he aimlessly skimmed his finger across the surface of the water. I slid my hand higher and played with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, just as he liked.

"Germany is a democracy now too," I murmured.

"Half," he corrected grumpily.

"Not for much longer, if we have our way."

He lifted his eyes to my face, looking like a miserable puppy. "I hate when you talk of politics."

I pulled him closer and pressed our foreheads together. "I hate when you disagree with me."

Accepting my unspoken invitation, he leaned forward. "I hate when you are stubborn," he whispered in my ear.

I smiled, enjoying the pleasant tickle of his breath. "I hate when you—"

I gasped when I felt his hand grope me underwater. I laughed and curled my body away, but my reaction only encouraged him. His hand moved down.

I froze. "I hate when...when..."

"Amérique, ma chérie," he murmured. He moved his lips to my neck. "Sois douce avec moi..."

And just like that, I talked no more of politics.

"S'il te plaît..."

~

A/N: Don't forget to vote!

Ma chérie | My darling.

Sois douce avec moi, s'il te plaît | Be sweet with me, please...