Chapter 5

Two weeks later found me sequestered in a cheap guest house in the picturesque town of Arles in the South of France. Arles was a town where Van Gogh had spent a year of his life painting and where several of his works were on display. Every year there was a festival in honour of Van Gogh. As part of this there was a prominent local music festival that we'd (two other bands and yours truly) been booked to play. It was a two night thing that promised to be quite an attraction. Several French music celebrities were touted to appear. It was rumoured that even the great Johnny Hallyday could make an appearance. Hallyday was apparently making a film not too far away and it was whispered he'd even made several visits to Arles already. Needless to say this caused great excitement in this sleepy rural town.

Normally I would have been more enthusiastic about this type of thing but as I strolled through the elegant centre of Arles, resplendent with banners and crepe paper, I had other things on my mind. Well one other thing on my mind. Eva.

The day we'd parted in Paris had been hard. I'd left with a heavy heart and in a black mood. The prospect of not seeing Eva for what, 6 weeks, was a heavy wrench. True we'd spent hours on the phone too each other but it was simply not the same. My thoughts drifted back to that incredible night we'd shared together. Just the thought of Eva, naked, blues eyes alive with passion was enough to get my cock twitching and the images racing through my head of Eva writhing below me as my dick pistoned in and out of her pussy was giving me a raging hard on. Keenly aware that I was traversing the main street of the town that was quite busy despite the relatively late hour I fought with all my might to deflate my very prominent erection. At half mast I began to relax.

Eva was heavily immersed in the filming of Arsene Lupin and couldn't get a break from it. Likewise my touring commitments meant that I was traipsing all over France playing almost every night. I wouldn't have had the time to travel too and from Paris to see her.

The thought depressed me as I made my way back to the guest house. The light and heat from the sun was dissipating as night approached. It had been a long day and was going to be an even longer one tomorrow. With a jaw cracking yawn, I rubbed my eyes and headed to my room intending to sleep forever. Well until the following morning at least. I wasn't due to play until 7.30pm so I had plenty of time to arse around Arles tomorrow and catch some of the local sites. Several members of the two bands I was touring with were going out to a local café and invited me to join them. Respectfully I declined and despite their protestations that it would do me good I managed to extricate myself from them and headed straight for my room. Flicking on the TV I collapsed onto my bed and closed my eyes oblivious to the sounds emanating from the idiot box...

I'm not sure how long I dozed before I was awoken by a rapping on my door and the sounds of a stern female voice. It must have been the old battleaxe who ran the guest house, Madame Cleureux. The minute she'd met me she'd taken a dislike to me. My French was shit and she pretty much let me know this.

'Monsieur Rogers... Monsieur Rogers... Il y a une femme à la telephone pour vous. Elle a dit qu'elle a une message trés importante pour vous. Monsieur Rogers... Monsieur... êtes-vous ici?'

I sat bolt upright which caused my head to spin which in turn caused me to groan. Running my hands through my hair I snapped.

'Une moment... Je viens maintenant.'

In my haste to answer the door I tripped over one of my shoes and belted my foot off the end of the bed.

'Fucking hell!'

That stern voice hidden behind the door called out again;

'Monsieur... Monsieur... Qu'est ce que c'est la probléme?'

Muttering under my breath I cursed her long and eloquently. Pain coursed through my leg and limping over to the door I unlocked it and wrenched it open;

'Qu'est ce que c'est la probléme... '

My face softened and the rest of my planned diatribe was silenced as I saw who it was.

'I have a very important message for you from a pretty young woman from Paris.'

Folding my arms I cocked my head, a little grin on my lips.