Read Online Parisian Promises by Cecilia Velástegui - Free Book Online

these heels as a tribute to the memory of Louis XIV and his own five-inch-heeled slip-ons. We’re in Paris, not Berkeley, in case you haven’t noticed.”
    Annie’s argumentative tendencies rose to the surface. “I didn’t know that you were a specialist on the Sun King’s footwear. What’s next? Are you planning to decree that only you can wear les talons rouges , his signature shoes with red heels?”
    â€œHonestly, Lola, you’re the total antithesis of feminism,” scolded Karen. “You show way too much cleavage. And I know you probably think that your finely arched foot is erotic to men, but you’re forgetting that high-heeled shoes are oppressive and sexist.”
    â€œYou’re both boring me to pieces!” Lola groaned. “The only one of us having a great time in Paris––and by that I mean having great sex––is probably Monica.”
    Karen looked aghast. “What are you talking about? Monica is totally naïve and sweet!”
    â€œMaybe she is naïve, and that’s what’s so attractive to men.” Lola tossed her curls and almost lost her balance on the uneven cobbles of the street. “She told me she’s determined to find the love of her life here in Paris. Can you believe that? That’s her only goal: to fall madly in love in Paris.”
    â€œOh! I thought we were talking about sex, not love.” Annie looked perturbed. “If Monica is mixing the two up, she’s in for a big disappointment.”
    â€œWell, we’ll be seeing her in a few minutes at the club, and we’ll be able to tell by her satisfied face,” said Lola, leading the way across the courtyard of the Louvre and onto Rue de Sainte Anne. She pointed at a lively group of club goers walking ahead of them. “You know, you can tell Le Sept is the hottest club by that group in front of us. People at this club really dress to impress.”
    The three slowed down to stare at the attire of the people ahead of them.
    â€œIt looks like it may be some kind of gay club––those guys are wearing full make-up and lashes,” Karen whispered to Annie. “And that woman is in a stretchy bodysuit. Are those her buttocks showing through?”
    â€œI smell a big mistake in our coming here,” Annie muttered back, jostled by another gaggle of salaciously dressed women trying to get into the private club. “It doesn’t even look like a club to me.”
    Charles materialized next to the unsmiling doorman, who waved the three women in. Before Annie could voice any more fears, they found themselves in a tiny restaurant, crammed with people––many with vaguely familiar faces from the gossip magazines.
    â€œIs that Andy Warhol?” Karen asked too loudly, gaping at the corner table like a small-town tourist.
    Lola edged her way past Karen and Annie and grasped Charles’ arm.
    â€œWould you like to dine? We have our usual table.” He pointed toward another corner. “Over there, near Bianca.”
    Lola glimpsed the famous Bianca––dressed all in white and sipping a glass of wine––but she refused to be awestruck like Karen. When it came to fame and fortune, Lola knew she couldn’t compete with the women in here, but she could show off her dance moves.
    â€œNo, thank you,” she said, smiling at Charles. “But I’d love to dance.”
    In her high heels, Lola stood a couple of inches taller than Charles. He didn’t seem to mind, though he wasn’t acting quite as cocky and lecherous as he’d seemed earlier that day. When Lola wended her way downstairs to the dance floor, following the pulsing beat of music, he trudged behind her as if heading to the gallows.
    Minutes after they stepped onto the crowded dance floor, Lola’s sexy moves drew admiring glances from the other dancers. Even the woman in the bodysuit sidled up to her on the floor and