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 I had been married for ten years to my high school sweetheart when the itch to leave my wife started.
It’s not that she wasn’t sexy, smart, or attractive. I just felt the need to be single, free. We were both 35 and had been together since we were 16! We didn’t have kids, so I thought it would be easy. I honestly didn’t think “Alice” would mind. She hadn’t seemed happy in years and I know the promotion I got which moved us to France made her miserable. She wanted to be back in Texas with all our friends and family. Quite understandable. I felt she would start over, find another husband and have the family she always dreamt of, and that we could even remain friends. Man was I ever wrong.
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 I wanted him. I wanted him and I knew I shouldn’t but damnit, I couldn’t help it. He’s married but I am not. We’d met years ago when we took the same French class at La Sorbonne. I was instantly attracted to him. I'm white, blond hair and blue eyes, and he's a strapping black man from NY. Where I come from back in South Carolina, my daddy would have beat me blind for dating a black man. I had to come all the way to Paris to do it, and now I can't get enough.
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 Earning enough money to live on in Paris can be a huge stress for Americans. That's a stress that can sometimes drive us away, but the problem I ran into when returning to the States was finding a place/niche to slip back into when I returned after all those years. My French experience didn't do me any good...or at least i wasn't in the right place, perhaps for it to do me any good...Americans don't have the best opinion of the French, as you know.
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 I´m a nice enough French guy living in Paris, but hailing from the Eastern part of France. I had been dating this hot American girl for about a month before I knew I was finally going to get somewhere--more than first base if you know what I mean. It was a Saturday night, typical date night, and I was totally ready. I went to the gym and worked on my already impressive abs, got my hair cut, and even picked up a new shirt from Lanvin. I had nothing but one thing in my head that night: mind blowing sex.
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 I was at a party in an apartment near the river Seine, thrown by my best friend, Slyvie. I was so excited because she would finally be meeting my new man, Didier. We had good wine, good food and a beautiful view of the river from Slyvie's balcony. Didier and I danced to everything from Bjork to LL Cool J and stared at each other practically all night long. Although we'd gone out several times, we hadn't actually slept together yet. I was thinking that perhaps the night of the party would be our first time. Boy was I wrong.
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