Date: July 1996
Location: Versailles garden
Actress: Fanny Ardant
Alexander's Status: Expanding AEG's European art cinema distribution arm; just acquired a stake in Canal+ to distribute auteur films globally
Actress's Status: Revered grande dame of French cinema, recently starred in *Pédale douce*; seen as fiercely intellectual, romantic, and somewhat untouchable in both art and politics
The gardens of Versailles at night were not quiet — they breathed.
Trees rustled like silk against marble, the fountains whispered conspiracies, and every shadow hinted at powdered wigs and whispered last words. Somewhere, a violinist practiced alone — the sound floating, imperfect, more human because of it.
Fanny Ardant stood at the edge of the Orangerie in a long black coat, cigarette tilted between two fingers like a line of poetry. Her posture was imperious, but her eyes — those tragic, smirking, fire-lit eyes — were watching him.
Alexander Kaine did not approach like a man seeking permission. He approached like someone who _owned_ permission, but chose to ask anyway — for the pleasure of the ritual.
"Versailles," he said, "where they taught the world that appearances are more powerful than truth."
She didn't turn. "And you? Do you believe that?"
"I believe truth is overrated," he said. "But power—power is rarely an illusion. Only how we _explain_ it."
She exhaled smoke. Turned, just enough to let the moonlight catch her cheekbone.
"You're American," she said. "But you speak like a Bourbon."
"I speak like a man who knows the revolution only wins if it looks better than the king."
That made her laugh — not a sound of amusement, but something darker. Appreciation, perhaps. Or recognition.
They walked together, slowly, through torch-lit paths once designed to flatter queens.
She poured them both wine from a black-glass bottle she'd brought herself. He took his without a word.
"You know," she said, "this place is full of ghosts. Mistresses. Ministers. Executed little girls. They linger."
"I like ghosts," Alexander said. "They remind you nothing you build lasts — unless someone _needs_ it to."
Fanny turned fully now, studying him like one might study a finely cut gem suspected of being a weapon.
"I've heard about you," she said. "The American who's buying up the dreams of children. And artists. And studios. You think you can translate revolution into franchise. Also the king of... actresses."
He smiled slowly.
"No," he said. "I translate _chaos_ into _structure_. Revolution is just good marketing. And as for king... I rule hollywood."
That shook her, slightly. Enough to sip her wine too fast.
"You are dangerous," she said. "That is not a compliment."
"But you stayed," he said, "long past midnight."
She looked at him like a woman weighing centuries.
"I am French," she said. "We invented staying too long."
A pause.
Then she stepped closer. Her voice lowered.
"You came here for something."
"Yes," he said. "A European distributor with taste. And a woman who reminds me that elegance isn't weakness."
She blinked once. "And you think I will help you?"
"No," he said. "I think you already have. You just want to know if you'll regret it."
The wine was gone. The garden darker now. Even the statues looked the other way.
She didn't invite him back to Paris.
She didn't need to.
Instead, she turned toward the maze path of hedges and shadows — and walked. Without looking back.
Alexander followed.
Somewhere behind them, the ghosts of Versailles whispered approval.
Fanny leads Alexander into the maze at Versailles. The hedges swallow sound. Their steps are slow, deliberate. She doesn't speak, but she doesn't need to.
Eventually, they reach a tucked-away gate — one she clearly knows. It opens into an abandoned 18th-century salon: gilded walls, a velvet chaise, shuttered windows, and just enough candlelight left over from some ambassador's forgotten reception.
She turns.
She doesn't ask. She doesn't seduce. She _claims_.
Fanny turned, her eyes locking with Alexander's in a silent challenge.
The candlelight flickered across her face, casting shadows that danced with the promise of what was to come. She didn't need words; her actions spoke volumes. Her hands, strong and sure, reached for the laces of her corset, untying them with practiced ease.
The fabric fell away, revealing her breasts, full and heavy, her nipples already hardened with anticipation. Alexander's breath hitched, his gaze drawn to the dark triangle of her bush, visible through the thin fabric of her skirt.
He stepped closer, his hands reaching for her, but Fanny caught his wrists, a smirk playing on her lips. "Not yet," she murmured in French, her voice a low purr. "First, you will watch."
She turned, presenting her back to him as she slowly lowered her skirt, revealing the curve of her ass and the dark, tempting shadows between her thighs.
Alexander's cock throbbed, straining against his pants, but he held still, his eyes roving over her body, drinking in every inch of her.
Fanny turned back to him, her hands moving to her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as she watched him watch her.
She pinched her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips. Alexander's control snapped. He reached for her, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her against him.
Fanny gasped as she felt his hard length press against her stomach, but she didn't back down.
Instead, she reached between them, her hand wrapping around his cock through the fabric of his pants.
"You're eager," she teased, her voice breathless. "But patience, mon ami. We have all night."
She pushed him back, her hands on his chest, until he was sitting on the velvet chaise.
Fanny knelt before him, her hands moving to his belt, her fingers deftly undoing the buckle. She pulled his pants down, his cock springing free, hard and ready.
She leaned in, her tongue flicking out to lick the tip, tasting the pre-cum that had already gathered there. Alexander groaned, his head falling back as he savored the sensation.
Fanny took him into her mouth, her lips stretching wide to accommodate his girth. She bobbed her head, taking him deeper with each pass, her saliva coating his shaft, making it glisten in the candlelight.
Alexander's hands found their way to her hair, gripping it tightly as he guided her movements.
Fanny moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through his body.
She reached up, her hands gripping his thighs for support as she took him even deeper, her nose touching his pelvis.
She held him there for a moment, her throat constricting around his length before pulling back, gasping for air.
Alexander's orgasm built quickly, his balls tightening as he approached the edge.
With a final, deep thrust, he held her head in place, his cock pulsing as he flooded her throat with his hot, salty seed.
Fanny swallowed reflexively, taking everything he gave her, her eyes watering from the effort.
As the last of his orgasm subsided, Fanny stood, her body moving with a sinuous grace.
She turned, presenting her back to him as she bent over the chaise, her hands gripping the armrest.
Alexander stood, his cock already hardening again at the sight of her exposed hole. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly.
He spat on his hand, rubbing the saliva onto his length, using it as lubricant.
He pressed the head of his cock against her tight ring of muscle, pushing gently but firmly until the head popped inside.
Fanny gasped, her back arching as she pushed back against him, taking more of his length inside her.
Alexander groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of her ass with increasing speed and depth.
The room filled with the obscene sounds of their coupling — the wet slapping of flesh, their ragged breaths, and their moans of pleasure.
Alexander reached around, his hand finding her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.
Fanny's moans grew louder, her body tensing as she approached another orgasm.
She came with a cry, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over her. Alexander felt her ass clench around his cock, milking him as he chased his own release.
With a final, deep thrust, he held himself inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her ass with his hot seed.
He collapsed forward, his body covering hers as they both panted, their bodies slick with sweat.
Fanny pushed him off gently, turning to face him with a smirk. "Again," she said, her voice husky with satisfaction.
She lay back on the chaise, her legs spreading wide, inviting him in. Alexander didn't need to be told twice. He positioned himself between her thighs, his cock already hard and ready.
He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss as he slid into her pussy, feeling her wet heat envelop him.
Their bodies moved in sync, their breaths mingling as they kissed deeply, their tongues exploring each other's mouths with a desperation that spoke volumes about the pent-up desire they both felt.
Fanny's legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper, harder.
Alexander's orgasm built quickly, his balls tightening as he approached the edge.
With a final, deep thrust, he held himself inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her pussy with his hot seed. Fanny cried out, her body convulsing as her own orgasm washed over her, her inner muscles milking him dry.
They collapsed together, their bodies entwined, their breaths syncing as one.
The candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow over their sated bodies. Fanny reached up, her hand cupping Alexander's cheek, her thumb brushing gently over his skin. "Until next time," she murmured, her voice soft and satisfied.
Alexander smiled, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and contentment. "Until next time," he echoed, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
And with that, they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined, their breaths syncing as one, the world outside the salon fading away into insignificance.
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