accent

In her French accent she asked if I did not like to wear shoes. So common was it for me to not wear shoes that I had actually forgotten the fact that I was sitting before her on the sofa outside of our corporate training rooms with my shoes off. I was pleased with the smile that it brought to her face and the fact that she sat back and shyly giggled upon me answering that shoes made me very uncomfortable and that bare-feet or flip flops were my methods of choice.
        I asked her what it was that she usually got up to on the weekends and in the evenings… since she had only been in the country for three months. She explained that she has several friends scattered around London, most of whom are French, and that she usually does things with them most weekends. In the evenings of the week she’s too tired to do anything and after work she goes home to eat and sleep. I couldn’t help but drift off into dreams of lingering kisses on soft beds in darkened private rooms and of all the associated pleasures and sensation that arise as a result of such activity.
        As cliched as it may seem, I truly love the French accent. I suspect that all of my years living in South Africa had resulted in a greater appreciation of American and European accents because they were so uncommon in South Africa (outside of Cape Town). Attach that accent to a beautiful woman and I am almost dumfounded with desire.