the little Frenchman in Africa

[jacques r.]

A summary of our adventures, which I leave to the experts to develop into a real story
A few weeks after our wedding, we moved to Africa where I was transferred for three years. A beautiful life for newlyweds in love.
As is often the case in such countries, the French expatriates lived among themselves and organized their activities often within their compounds.
During one of these first evenings, I had the opportunity to discuss with Patrice, one of my bosses. Handsome, antillean, in his forties, he is a charmer, a good talker and divorced. But sometimes quite raw in his comments and authoritarian. All young executives like me admire him.
While my wife is having a drink at the bar, I talk to him about our newly married life. I tell him, in the course of the discussion, that among the things that attracted me to Véro were her hair and her haircut, which I adore. He answers me: "I prefer women with short hair, with a boyish look. This androgynous side turns me on, especially when they suck."
Two days after this evening, I leave for my first professional trip in province. When I come back home, one week later, I find my Véro with short hair. It certainly suits her, but we had never talked about it before, especially since she knew my penchant for her initial hairstyle (see the two photos).
She never mentioned this decision to me (except: it's too hot, it's better!) but I still have a big doubt, doubt reinforced because she kept this boy's haircut (and even sometimes a little shorter) during months, until Patrice's return to France. And then, as if by chance, she let her hair grow again.
I would like so much to know what happened during this week..... and at the same time, I dread it. Would she answer frankly a few years later? especially since thanks to Patrice and the months I spent with him, I was able to pursue a very successful career within the company.
But I must admit that I think 90% that something happened. I think it, I have long feared it and I fantasize about it today. The possessive and jealous young white executive has matured.
Sorry for my poor english

 

[bbmusings]

 

[jacques r.]

Very possible.
She later told me a detail about the evening that had escaped me. Patrice had invited most of the wives of the young managers who had just arrived in the country for a few dances. In fact, my wife had danced three or four slow dances with him while I chatted at the bar with a few colleagues. She came back with a funny expression on her face.
As they danced, my love described to Patrice the good fortune and happiness of living and working in such a country, when we were newlyweds.
Hugging her a little tighter, Patrice told her this:
"Jacques is not favored by management at the moment. They're criticizing some of his actions. There's even talk of sending him back to France. I can help him first of all to get out of this bad situation and then to make a good career in the company. But to do that, I need a quid pro quo, and I need you. The rule is simple: next weekend is the cocktail party for the visit of our big boss from Paris. If you come with short hair, it means you accept. If not, it'll be what it's supposed to be: a quick trip back to a siding in the Paris suburbs."

It was a few minutes later that I had this discussion with Patrice about tomboy haircuts. Véro also pointed out that, "if you remember back then, we were four young wives who had just arrived to get our hair cut."

 

[bbmusings]

 

[jacques r.]

I imagine her very well like in the image of the beach.

View attachment 354539

 

[jacques r.]

I didn't dare go into details with her, even though I had few illusions at the time (rather disappointed and disillusioned). much later, on the contrary, this story continues to give me a serious hard-on.
In these expatriate micro-societies, there are always rumors and stories circulating. One of them explained that Patrice had a way of "marking" his conquests, with a dual purpose: to prevent other males from hunting on his land, and to enable Patrice to reward his best friends, clients or suppliers by allowing them to taste his "livestock".
Nonetheless, thanks to his constant support and action, I was able to pursue a successful career within this international group, culminating in important responsibilities at the French head office.

Sorry for my poor english

 

[jacques r.]

I remember one evening, at an official reception. My wife and I were obliged to be there, and we were bored stiff.
My wife was looking beautiful, and at one point, Patrice came to get her and force her to keep company with a senior government official (whose support he was seeking).
Véro obeyed and went to sit next to this big old black man. She chatted, smiled or laughed at his jokes. She danced (including some very tight slow dances). The white tablecloth covering the table didn't let me see what was going on underneath.
And Patrice, seated at my table, offered me glass after glass of champagne, repeating: "It's very good for business. Thanks to her".

 

[jacques r.]

This period of our life together still leaves me with a strange taste, between what I've seen, what I know, what I feel, what I imagine, what I fear or dread. And a reality that only Véro can know.
All the more so as our meeting had been unconventional for my social milieu.
To conclude with Patrice, when I reached a certain rank in the company a few years later, one of my first actions was to...fire him for incompetence.