A balding man in a suit once asked my mother and I if we would have a threesome with him behind a tomb in Pere Lachaise. That’s right-the resting grounds of Colette, Chopin, Oscar Wilde, and Jim Morrison are evidently also a prime location to proposition women for sex.
Since that day I have often wondered how successful this man had been prior to our encounter with him. I assume he had been watching us for some time as we wandered through the cemetery, setting up a tripod for my mother’s camera (she was in a photography class at the time), and taking pictures of various headstones. We climbed and positioned ourselves against the aging stone, just to get the right angle to frame our shots-happily chatting about lighting and symmetry; totally unaware of the perverted stalker.
He was obviously considering different angles for various activities in which he hoped we would happily participate. After observing us from afar, he slid out from behind a particularly tall tomb and stood in front of the camera lens. It was here that his suggestion for the absurd was performed, one hand on hip-the other pointing to his member. I must say he casually conducted himself as if the whole situation where quite normal.
Needless to say, we did not. Our faces simultaneously formed the same disgusted expression as we packed up our things.
I cannot for the life of me imagine a world where a mother and daughter would agree to participate in a threesome together-much less with a stranger-much less with a stranger in a cemetery.
Just goes to show-this City of Love is capable of just about anything.