Within 15 minutes of arriving to meet Natasha and me at the Pitusa and Stick ‘Em Up sale at Graffik Gallery, Jean-Claude had bought a gun artwork by Milo. Within another 15 minutes Pierre was jokingly taking another artwork off the wall and hiding it in his Burberry Mac. It was time to leave. He complained about the cold and the walk en route to The Lonsdale. Once there, he was a little too tactile. It was time to leave.
 
At E&O, Jean-Claude ordered Champagne while we waited for our table. During dinner, Pierre complained about me being vegetarian, ‘What am I supposed to feed you when you come to France – tomatoes and lettuce?’ He was grouchy and seemed in a rush to get the bill. I teased him for behaving like a nagging woman. Outside, the guys hailed a cab. Back at their hotel Natasha called me into Jean-Claude’s room. ‘Are you okay with this?’ She asked.
‘The only potential Pierre has is in the bedroom and I need sex.’
 
As soon as I got into Pierre’s room we ripped our clothes off… Afterwards, I made my excuses for leaving, ‘I don’t have any of my things and I want to get home.’ Pierre wasn’t impressed, ‘You are behaving worse than a man. You knew I was coming over to see you.’
‘That’s no reason to expect me to stay. I hardly know you.’
‘You know me well enough to f**k me,’ he said, adding ‘I want to see if I like you.’
‘That is so arrogant,’ I retorted.
‘I didn’t mean it. Anyway, you were already leaving.’
Natasha was sitting up in bed when Jean-Claude answered the door. He quickly went to the bathroom. ‘I want to spend more time with him,’ Natasha said.
‘Well I need to leave so just come over when you like,’ I replied. I returned to Pierre’s room to say bye but he continued sending angry texts during my cab ride home until I said I didn’t want to see him the next day. By the morning he had apologised, said he was doing his ‘lady thing’ and should have let me do what I want. ‘Do you want to join me for breakfast. I’ll behave, I promise.’
‘Thank you for the invite but I’m going to sleep for another hour. Have breakfast without me.’
 
Later, Natasha and I had our post-mortem catch-up over a cup of tea. She was keen to see Jean-Claude later that day even though she hadn’t had any sleep. We were interrupted by a text from Pierre. He’d discovered the blog, ‘You’re nuts, WLG.’
‘Do you like me after reading the blog?’ I replied.
‘I like the irony. Nice one.’