The French Man's Poupee

I had that dream again....you know which one I speak of.

She closed her eyes, her heart beating more and more rapid as she thought about his return. It had been a day and a few hours…. A few hours more than what he had previously said and they were beginning to talk. The other men, they said terrible things to her as if they wanted to the young to tear up and cry for hours. They said things they knew would break her heart. Things they knew would get her defenses down and stay weak. He always said never to listen to them, but she could never help herself. She stayed however standing at the window watching for any sign of anything…or anyone. She had gotten all ready for him in a short white dress that came above her knees. It was an elegant summer dress that had been tailored for her especially during the warm summer months. The straps of her dress were too thin so they constantly slid off her thin bony shoulders. She brushed back some of her long brown hair and eyed the window just in case.

Still nothing…

She tightened the little white ribbons in her pigtails and made sure she was at least presentable for his safe return. The young girl took a seat on the bed and looked down. He was far too late, maybe something did happen? Her eye lids lowered as she placed her hands in her lap, the best thing she could do was sit and wait patiently like a good doll should. After all it was good things that came to those who waited, of course she told herself that countless times. She began to worry as she bit her lip. That was when the door opened and a tall figure of a man walked in. He had one arm covering over his other arm blood running down his left hand as he looked to the side. His wife beater was completely soiled in blood, his jeans torn up; his hair wild and his signature cowboy hat crooked to one side and covered his eye patch. The captain looked to be in a mess from what he usually was in! She stood up and covered her mouth frantically running over to him. “What happened?” she asked her mouth hanging open as she moved to move his hand from covering the wound. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes as she bit her lip. What was she going to do? The man stared at her for a minute before he reached over and pulled her into a hug, careful not to ruin her white dress with the blood.

“Shhh jolie fille. I’m fine” he whispered in his soothing French accent. He moved his clean hand to run through her hair.

“You’re wounded.” She spoke softly. “Are you… okay?” she asked reaching around him to hug him.

“It is just a scratch. I vill get some bandages.” He told her. “You go sit down….do not vorry about me.” He smiled at her walking into the small bathroom. The girl moved away from him and took a seat on the bed as a tear rolled down her cheek.

She was terrified.

With all of these new missions she was always terrified when he came back she would never know if he would ever came back home alive. It scared her every time he went out and before he would go out he pulled her close, kissing her in a passionate embrace and whispering.

‘Aurevoir Poupée.’

Every time he left. He always told her the same thing, never anything more or less. When he returned out of the bathroom he had taken off his stained shirt and had a small package of bandages in his hand. The wound had been cleaned. “Jolie fille please help me with zis.” He spoke as he handed her the bandages. The doll nodded as she started to bandage up his wounded arm. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh come on now don’t give me zhat look.” When she finished she placed the bandages on the night stand. There she handed him a can of beer and a cigarette, it was what she always did upon his return. She still had a pained expression on her face.  He took the cigarette from her hand and lit it up with a lighter he had in his pocket. He let it dangle from his lips before he took the beer. He sat it on the ground for a minute before he took her hand and pulled her into his lap. “Jolie fille…” he whispered. “Mon Poupée.” He spoke nuzzling her neck, careful to take the cigarette out of his mouth and hold it in his hand. She sat there frozen as tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“I had the dream again…” she whispered. He rested against the head board and made the doll face him.

“Vhat dream?” he asked.

“The one where I wake up and you’re not next to me…the one where I find myself in our bed room alone.” She whispered sniffling.  He paused and listened to her words.

“I wish you vould not listen to my men. You know zhey like to tease you.”

“But this time you came back wounded! It could be serious next time!” she cried softly holding her face in her hands. Seeing her cry always made him a little upset. He usually didn’t know what to do when she started crying.

“Jolie fille you’ll never be alone I promised you zhat. No matter how dangerous my job is….it’s still my job. Someone vill always be zhere for you even if it’s not me.” He had to make up something to make her stop crying. He had promised her she wouldn’t be alone, but he couldn’t say whether or not he would come back alive or not. It was why he chose to say ‘we’ll meet again’ instead of promising being in good health. He could never promise her anything so outlandish, but he wanted to see her smile. He did promise she’d never be alone and she wouldn’t. Someone would take his place when he was gone. He figured he’d die somewhere on the battle field, what he hadn’t planned on was meeting his doll.

The one he wanted to fight for and wanted to die for if he had too. She was young and beautiful….trained to please to be loved and adored. She had only been used by vampires and she couldn’t get pregnant due to complications in her immune system. All she wanted was a little praise, admiration and to know that she was loved. That much he could still do, even if he wasn’t very good at it.
She was loyal and obedient. Often times he’d be too hesitant to touch her in an intimate way fearing that she would break. He knew that she was by far not a blushing bride, but the thought still remained in his mind. He still went to bars and still paid to visit the local brothel. It wasn’t often these days because his doll needed a lot of attention and he was there when he wasn’t working. She still didn’t say anything just crying silently. “I grow so scared.” She whimpered as he began to wipe her eyes.

“Don’t even think about it Poupée. Smile for me.” He stroked her cheek putting out his cigarette and leaning in to capture her lips in an intimate, passionate kiss. He wanted her to know she was safe here; he wanted her to know that there was nothing to worry about and when he died of natural causes or a failed attempt on a mission. That was how he would have wanted it to make sure no harm would come to his doll. “I don’t want you worried for me I want you smiling.” He laced his fingers together with hers and pulled her in for another kiss. She let her lips glide over his softly as they kissed for a short time, he knew she liked to kiss him and she was rather addicting. There was something so innocent about her, but there was a thin veil that concealed what was left of it. She could only pretend and act, and he was not used to someone so cherub and pure playing. He captured her lips in a long kiss before he turned her over and pinned her to the bed and started kissing around her neckline, licking her collar bone and sucking on the delicate pieces of flesh there.  She closed her eyes and removed his hat, tossing it to the ground.

She lay there motionless as he slowly pulled down her dress observing her body; it was just the way he had left it. He placed gentle kisses down her stomach and looked up at her. “Did you miss me?” the doll asked, placing a hand on his head moaning softly as he flicked his tongue along her left n****e.

“Only every moment I vas gone. Wondering what my little Poupée has been up too...” He spoke sucking gingerly on the succulent nub of her breast.  He teased both of her nubs with equal intimacy of his working mouth. She sat up and started to unbutton his pants sliding them down. He usually was not this gentle, but she was his doll and she was to be handled with extra care. He still worried about hurting her; he wanted to be nothing like she had been treated in the past. He wanted her body to be worshipped…even if it took him longer. She always fulfilled his pleasures back for once he wanted to return the favor to the best of his ability. She lay back down as he positioned himself at her entrance. “Do you want it?”

“I’m ready.” He laced both their hands together and pressed the backs of her hands against the bed as he thrust into her. She cried softly arching her back as he kissed along her neck.

“Just know zhis.” He moved slowly. “Poupée, id die for you. I fight for you every day I go out.” He muttered as he thrust into her moving in and out of her. She cried gripping onto his hands for support.

“I love you…” she whimpered. “I need you.” he leaned down to whisper in her ear as he moved harder within her tightness.

“Je’taime.” he spoke back kissing her lips.

~ Fini

Author's Note

Don't care for grammar.