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Aventure Amoureuse	By : Baron Category: +M through R > Miraculous LadyBug Views: 5012 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction for adults. Miraculous Ladybug and its characters are not mine, and are the property of ZAG-inc. I make no profit from this and all characters are 18+.

Chapter List
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You spent your Saturday relaxing. You ran various errands, paid your bills, and had a stiff drink. You weren't intending to get drunk, but you went slightly past your limit. You take a sip from your glass letting the colored liquid swirl around your tongue savoring it before swallowing it. You hold the paperwork from your trip in your hands examining it and reading it for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your thoughts are of all the French things you've seen in movies and television and pondered what their food must be like. You are filled with a curious fondness and willingness to try something new. You smile and scoff at your excitement comparing yourself to a small child on Christmas Eve in anticipation of the morning. You sigh at all the possibilities that could happen while you're there. "What if I fall in love in the world's most romantic city? That would certainly be poetic." Reality quickly slaps you across your face as you remind yourself that this is the real world and not a movie or a dime store romance novel. Epic love stories don't happen to real people, especially you. You feel the black hand of depression attempting to creep into your soul like cracks in old stone. You take a deep breath and another drink wordlessly telling your depression to go fuck itself. You take one last look at your paperwork before shuffling to your bedroom for the night. You have an early day tomorrow and want to fall asleep before the booze or your depression keep you up all night.
The next morning, a loud thump shakes you awake. It's the unmistakable sound of the Sunday newspaper slamming against your front door. The paperboy has an arm like a cannon and enjoys screwing with people on Sunday mornings. "Asshole" you mutter to yourself as you yawn and climb out of bed. After a quick shower you move your bags to the front door while you drink your coffee and await the taxi to the airport. "This guy's running a bit late, he should have been here by now." you think to yourself as you wait on your porch. The distant sound of loud music gradually approaches you and you wonder what sort of inconsiderate person would be blaring heavy metal music at this hour on a Sunday. You tap your foot impatiently as you light up a cigarette and soon get your answer. An old-fashioned yellow cab with black and white checkered decals jumps over the hill at the top of your street blasting speed metal and swerving erratically. It abruptly screeches to a halt after the right front tire hops the curb and obliterates your mailbox into kindling wood and toothpicks. "HEY, MAN! WHAT THE FUCK?!" you shout at the white tinted windows of the cab. The passenger side window rolls down and a cloud of white marijuana smoke pours from the open window. Apparently, the windows weren't tinted at all, the driver was just hotboxing. "Sorry about that, bud!" the inebriated cab driver chuckles. "Name's Smokey. Sorry I'm late and totally thrashed your mailbox. Come on, hop in! I'll take you to the airport!" the driver says before coughing up a puff of smoke. "You sure it's safe, Smokey?" you ask suspiciously raising an eyebrow. "Pfft, come on. Don't be such a narc. You're on vacation, right? I'll get you there on time and you don't have enough time to call another driver anyway." he says tapping his watch. "Fuck, he's right." you think to yourself as you load your baggage into the back seat of the cab. "Just try to drive carefully, Smokey. I'd like to make it to Paris with all my limbs and organs intact." you say sternly. "You're way too high-strung and stressed. Here, hit this. You'll forget all about my driving." he says chuckling as he hands you a burning joint about the size of a hotdog. Smokey drove recklessly, but seemed to know what he was doing. You smoke the joint he handed you as you glance over at your driver. Smokey was a skinny white guy with dreadlocks and an Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves cut off down to nearly his waist. Normally white guys look ridiculous with dreadlocks, but Smokey wore it well. The tips of his dreads were dyed blonde and had beads in them the colors of the Jamaican flag. You take a few more hits off the joint zoning out a little bit as you stare at him. "Smokey's kind of hot." you think to yourself as you look him over letting your eyes wander to the cut off sleeves of his shirt. The way he was leaning over the steering wheel gave you a clear view of his toned chest and right nipple. You assumed he must be a skateboarder or surfer because he seemed to be in pretty good shape. He glances over to see you gawking down his shirt and licking your lips. "You ok, bud? I think you're zoning a bit." he says snapping you back into reality. "I-I uh... was just um... deep in thought!" you say blushing and turning away knowing he just caught you looking. "It's cool. Happens to me all the time!" he chuckles as you pass him back the joint. This sort of thing is your usual luck. You'd hit on Smokey, but you hardly know him and are about to leave the country. Time never seems to be on your side. You feel your depression and unease creeping up your spine again and your liquor is at home. The weed is relaxing and Smokey rolled the windows back up to keep the smoke trapped in the car so it's not as bad as if you were alone. Smokey looks over at you again and can sense that you're upset. "You feelin' ok? It's a bit of a long drive and my passengers have a habit of telling me their problems. I probably don't look like it, but I'm a good listener and have come to expect a little chatter from my fares." he says giving you a warm but friendly smile. "I don't know, Smokey. My burdens are my burdens. My cross isn't yours to bear, my friend." you reply. "Sometimes it's good to tell your problems to a stranger. We'll probably never see each other again, and I'll probably forget after a few joints anyway. Where's the harm?" He had a point. Wasn't the whole point of this trip to leave your comfort zone? Experience new things? You take a deep breath and pour your heart out to the bleary-eyed driver. You explain your past relationship, your drinking and your depression as Smokey listens attentively. You're surprised you told a stranger as much as you did, but Smokey was right. You felt like a great burden left your shoulders. The weed cloud in the car probably had a hand in it as well.
Smokey sat there keeping his eyes on the road occasionally glancing over at you during the juicier and more tragic parts of your story. His eyebrows softened as he drank in your words. "Listen, bud. I'm not normally any good at pep talks and motivation, but remember what you're doing. You're leaving your troubles here and going to a new land. Leave your emotional baggage here and go to Paris on a clean slate. Don't let the burdens of your past ruin your vacation or your future. Footprints in the sands of time aren't made by sitting down." You're shocked at the level of depth Smokey's mind operated on. You thought he was just a dumb stoner, but he's surprisingly insightful. "I uh... wasn't expecting such wise words from you, Smokey. I'm honestly surprised." you say looking at him with wide eyes. "No prob. I read it in a fortune cookie once." he replies cackling hysterically. Your eyes narrow in slight frustration realizing that his words of wisdom were probably sitting next to packets of spicy mustard and duck sauce. You spend the rest of the cab ride casually chatting with Smokey and smoking pot on the way to the airport. The ride seemed shorter than you expected and were a little disappointed when it ended. Smokey leaves the cab running and helps you carry your bags into the airport. "Listen, bud. If you ever come back from France and need someone to talk to and chill with, I'm not planning on quitting the cab company anytime soon. You can always give me a call." Smokey says handing you a crumpled business card and giving you a charming smile. "Thanks, Smokey... for everything. I really mean that." you reply coyly. "It's nothing, bud. I'm glad to help a new friend." he says putting his hands behind his head and stretching his body giving you an excellent view down his shirt and a playful wink. "I-I... uh..." you manage to eek out as you feel your face redden with embarrassment and get warm. He DID catch you looking! "It's ok, bud. I don't mind. Sometimes I get a nice tip dressing this way." he laughs as he walks away smiling back at you. Your body trembles with a combination of embarrassment and arousal as you head to your plane.
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Aventure Amoureuse