The View

The young woman peered out of the third story window down to the dazzling city below. The lights from the buildings twinkled like dozens of golden stars in the night, and the most brilliant of them all was the Eiffel Tower, the crowning jewel of France, standing undaunted and proud on the horizon. She smiled; France was one of the last countries in Europe that still held its freedom against Nazi Germany. The iconic monument served as a symbol of France's independence and strength. There was still hope that the Allied forces would win the war, and that all of Europe would be free once again; she just hoped that she would still be in Paris to see it.

The African American secretary had come with the founder and chair of the company, Mr. Vincent Barkley, to Paris to help close a business deal with one of the Barkley Industries's partners, Sir Reginald Livingston. Sir Reginald Livingston was a wealthy British investor and one of Mr. Barkley's oldest friends; in celebration of them going into a business venture together, the aristocrat had thrown a lavish party at his estate in Paris, which was just one of the many he owned. Tara had seen many fancy homes back home in New York City, but never one like that of Sir Reginald's. It was practically a palace! Golden chandeliers hung from the ceilings, a grand staircase lined each side of the ballroom, even the guests themselves resembled that of royalty. It had been like watching a scene from a fairy tale.

All of a sudden, the door behind her was thrown open, banging loudly against the wall and jolting the woman from her thoughts. There stood, formidably, a tall, well dressed man at the entrance of the room, his brows creased with annoyance.

"What are you doing in here?! This room is strictly off limits to--"

The words vanished in his throat as he stood, staring at the woman, who had now stood up and turned toward him, her brown eyes staring back in surprise and slight embarrassment. Whoever this trespasser was, she was absolutely gorgeous, with brown skin and dark hair that curled around lovely face. Her dress was a dark blue chiffon, with matching laced sleeves that were embroidered with glittery navy blue thread that glittered in the moon's light.

"Visitors," he finished, gently.

"I'm sorry," the lovely stranger began, sheepishly, not meeting his gaze, "I didn't mean to trespass. I was just coming back from the ladies' room and got lost, but I saw the light on and I saw the window, and it is such a lovely view--"

"No, no, please," the dark blonde haired man interjected, "I am the one that should be sorry; I shouldn't have frightened you like that. I was just a bit surprised. No one hardly uses the family library anymore, other than me that is."

The pretty American's eyes widened. "You must be related to Sir Reginald."

"Yes! He's my uncle. I'm Thomas, but everyone just calls me Tom," the handsome stranger smiled, "and you must be one of those pesky Americans I've heard so much about."

"I'm afraid so. I'm Tara Felding, Mr. Barkley's secretary and bookkeeper for Barkley Industries," she declared, shyly. It was at that moment Tara realized she was still holding the book she had picked up from one of the shelves. Sheepishly, she held it out to him, her face growing warm. "I believe this is yours."

Thomas studied the book, reading the title out loud. "The Jungle Book," the handsome Brit chuckled, "Now why would a lady want to spend time around a bunch of dusty old books, when she could be downstairs with her friends at a glamorous high society party?"

"Friends? I hardly even know those people!" Turning back toward the view of the night sky, the brunette sighed, "I've never really been much for parties, anyway. I only came here tonight because Mr. Barkley insists that I get out more. I would much rather have stayed in the hotel curled up with a good book."

Thomas chuckled lightheartedly, sitting down next to her on the window seat. "I know just what you mean. Sometimes its nice to just get away from it all. Is this your first time being in France?"

Tara nodded. "My father used to talk about it all the time. During his time in the army, he was stationed in Paris for a while," she explained, with a smile, "he always used to tell me about how much he loved Europe. It would break his heart to see it now." For a moment the two were silent, gazing out unto the enchanting scene.

"How would you like to see the City of Lights up close?" came the sudden mysterious offer.

"I would love to, but won't your uncle get upset if you decide to up and disappear from his party?"

"Nah! I disappear all the time," Tom declared, with a playful wink, "only now I have someone worthwhile to disappear with." The lovely young woman's face grew warmer as she took his hand, the two sneaking away downstairs. Tom hastily grabbed their coats from closet, as Tara held the door open. Together, they crept away out into the cool night air and unto the romantic streets. As her new acquaintance flagged down a cab on the busy streets, the shy young secretary began to feel a bit apprehensive. What was she doing, going along on some random excursion with a man she just met in a place she knew nothing of? Tara had never done anything so spontaneous, so thoughtless in all her life. Yet, this was the same sort of thing that her mother herself had done, nearly 22 years before when she had met her father. Everyone had always told her how she needed to live life more freely, more bravely, and here, sitting in a cab with a dashing blue-eyed gentleman, was just how she was going to start living it. There was no excuse for letting let such a magical opportunity for adventure slip from her grasp!