Season Four: French Kissing, Book 4

by Harper Bliss

  “Thanks.” She fruitlessly tried to hold Solange’s gaze when she handed her the glass of wine.

  When Solange sat down on the sofa, Aurore sat down next to her.

  “Do you have the questions?” Solange asked, her voice tight.

  “I do, but can I ask you something else first?”

  Solange pushed herself against the armrest of the sofa. She made Aurore feel as though she was cornering her, even though she had left a fair amount of space between them.

  “If you must,” Solange said.

  “Why are you so wound up? Is it, perhaps, not so much that Steph asked you that question, but that she asked it about me?”

  “I don’t know what she, or you for that matter, want from me. But whatever it is you think you’re doing, it’s not going to work. Not with me.”

  “I’m not doing anything, Solange. You asked me here. I came. I can tell you’re upset, so I’m asking what’s the matter. It’s a perfectly logical thing to be happening. The only thing that doesn’t add up is your behaviour.”

  “I—I just haven’t been sleeping well. After… our conversation last Sunday.”

  “It did end rather abruptly. We can continue if you like. I’m here if you want to talk.”

  Solange looked her in the eye for the first time since Aurore had arrived. Aurore saw her swallow hard. “Will you put that glass of wine down, please?” Her voice had gone low and hoarse, as though she suddenly had difficulty speaking.

  “Sure.” Aurore put the wine glass on the coffee table. “May I ask why?”

  Solange still sat there, staring at her. She shook her head. Then, in a flash, she scooted closer, brought her hands to Aurore’s cheeks, heaved a deep sigh, and kissed her on the lips.

  Aurore was too stunned to kiss Solange back right away, and by the time she’d recovered, Solange had dropped her hands, and pushed herself away again.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I thought, um, that you, er… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Aurore smiled softly at Solange. She reached for her hand and took it in hers. “Come back here,” she whispered. “You took me by surprise.”

  Solange sank her teeth into her bottom lip, then shuffled back in Aurore’s direction. “I’ve, um, been having trouble getting you off my mind. Every time I let my guard down, there you are,” she said.

  “Is that so?” Aurore couldn’t keep a hint of laughter out of her voice.

  “Please don’t mock me for this. I know this makes me look like a hypocrite, like—”

  Aurore brought a finger to Solange’s lips. “Shhh. It doesn’t matter. I’m not mocking you.” She slowly let her finger fall away from Solange’s lips. “How about a proper kiss?”

  Solange nodded.

  Aurore tilted her head, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips against the president’s chief of staff’s. Part of her knew she shouldn’t be doing this. That she was repeating that ever-returning pattern. But what could she possibly do? Stop kissing Solange? There was just no way. She might not have been able to admit it to herself, but she had wanted to kiss her for a long time. Perhaps since that very first time she had been invited here.

  Aurore open her lips and let Solange’s tongue slip inside. Instinctively, she tried to wind her fingers through her hair, but it was pulled into a firm pony tail. Aurore found the elastic band holding Solange’s hair together and tugged it down. She broke from the kiss to see Solange’s hair cascade down her shoulders. She looked like a different person instantly. Something had changed in her eyes as well. They were brimming with hunger. Aurore believed the best thing she could do was kiss Solange again. This time, her fingers freely gripped the back of Solange’s head and she held on to her, held her close, while their tongues danced, and Aurore expelled any admonishing thoughts from her mind. Maybe they were both hypocrites. Or just immensely silly for giving into this. But no one ever needed to know. Besides, it was just a kiss. Even though Aurore felt more body parts tingle than just her lips.

  “Mon dieu,” Solange said, when they broke for air. “What are we doing?”

  I’m being an unbelievable cliché, Aurore thought, but wisely kept that one to herself. “Just expressing ourselves without words,” she said instead. “Which I’m enjoying very much.”

  Solange breathed in deeply, then cupped Aurore’s jaw in her hands. “You are just so… I don’t even have the words.” She pecked her lightly just under the cheekbone. “So unbelievable.”

  “Keep going,” Aurore joked.

  “I could cry because of how much I want you right now. I don’t know what has come over me. I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “You’re just being you. The real you. Without the big political job facade. Without all the things you’ve ever believed about yourself holding you back. Let me tell you, it’s a beautiful thing to behold.”

  Solange kissed Aurore on the other cheek, then her lips found their way to her mouth again and shivers ran up Aurore’s spine as their tongues kept meeting, exploring, as she felt Solange melt under the touch of her lips.

  Aurore knew she should in no way push. Solange held the reins—at least for tonight. And if tonight was all there would ever be between them, and Solange clammed up again then that was how things would be.

  Solange’s hand skated down from Aurore’s cheek to her neck, resting there, her wrist close to her breast. When they broke from their kiss again, Aurore felt the need to take a deep breath, if only to somewhat steady the desire coursing through her blood.

  “I’ve never kissed a woman before.” Solange words were choppy, like her breath. “It’s so different, yet also very much the same. It’s strange.”

  “But good, I hope,” Aurore said.

  “Delicious. I can’t get enough now that I’ve started.”

  When they kissed again, Solange’s wrist dropped ever so gently against Aurore’s chest. Aurore took it as a sign to increase the pressure on Solange’s back. She let her lips slip from Solange’s and started kissing a trail down her neck, then upwards again. She didn’t know where this would be going, even though she very much knew—felt it rage throughout every cell of her body—where she would like it to end.

  But Aurore had been in this situation so many times before. She was used to holding back—it gave her a thrill. The thrill of anticipation, that kept building and building, until her mounting desire was finally met.

  Solange followed her example and kissed Aurore’s neck. Her hand dropped down a little, the heel of it now resting on the curve of Aurore’s breast.

  “I want you,” Solange whispered into her ear. “I really do. I—I just… need some more time.”

  Aurore nodded and they started kissing again. Solange’s hand didn’t move anymore and Aurore was very careful to let her know she was the one setting the pace, that nothing would happen that Solange wasn’t more than ready for.

  When, after a long delicious minute, Solange pulled back from her, Aurore let her go from her grasp, and looked at her.

  “What?” Solange asked.

  “So many questions,” Aurore said.

  Solange let herself fall against the back of the sofa. “I can imagine, but I can’t give you answers right now. Just…” She looked at her hands. “I didn’t ask you here tonight so I could kiss you.”

  “It wouldn’t matter to me if you had. Or no, it would actually flatter me.”

  “You must go around kissing other women all the time, but I don’t.”

  Aurore chuckled. “I do no such thing.”

  “Don’t you have… a plethora of lovers?”

  “A plethora? Where do you get your information? Is that what my Wikipedia page says? Because it’s not true.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to say right now. Nor what to do.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” Aurore reached for her hand again. “Why don’t we have a look at those interview questions?”

  “I don’t really care about the questions.
Not after kissing you like that. I trust you not to ask the president anything impertinent.”

  Aurore gazed into Solange’s eyes. “Who are you? Has the chief of staff’s body been taken over by a socialist-friendly intruder?” She grinned. “How about I leave the list here and you can have a look at it after I’ve gone.”

  “So you’re not staying?” Solange squeezed Aurore’s hand.

  “I don’t think that would be wise.” If Solange could barely process a kiss, there was no way they could take this any further tonight. “But I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me again.”

  Episode Eighteen

  Dominique

  “Why am I so nervous?” Dominique sat between her chief of staff and Steph in the back of the car bringing them to the radio studio.

  “Maybe because you decided to one-up your own party. Again,” Solange said.

  “Don’t give me that, Solange. You came up with this idea. Don’t start making me feel bad about it when I’m on the way.”

  “Now that your father is not on speaking terms with you—again—I have to take his calls. Today alone he has rung me four times,” Solange said. “I’ve run out of things to say.”

  “It’s very simple,” Dominique said. “Next time he calls, don’t pick up.”

  Solange replied with a sigh.

  Dominique looked at Steph. “Do you still think I’ve made the right decision?”

  “Any decision that defies Laroche Senior and extends a hand to the left is a good decision in my book.”

  “Maybe I should have taken the time to convince the party, after all,” Dominique said. “I’ve had too much on my mind lately. I didn’t take the time to make a proper decision.”

  “No, no, no.” Steph turned to her and put a hand on her knee. “You went with your gut and, in the end, that’s what you’re best at. This opportunity came up and you did the right thing grabbing it. The party will adjust. They always do.”

  “I broke a promise to my mother, though. That doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “I’ll talk to Eléonore,” Steph said. “I’ll take her out to lunch tomorrow to smooth things over.”

  “It’s not fair that you get to deal with the easy parent,” Solange said.

  “I don’t get paid for my efforts,” Steph said. “I do it out of the sheer goodness of my heart.”

  “Thanks for coming.” Dominique put a hand on Steph’s. “You know Solange and I are not very adept at dealing with socialists.”

  “Clearly one of you is getting better at it.” Steph grinned widely.

  Dominique gave her a look. She didn’t want the two of them bickering again. Things had been going so well the past few days. But Steph just couldn’t help herself.

  When Steph had told Dominique about what her friends had allegedly observed between Solange and Aurore Seauve at the dinner Dominique couldn’t attend, she had been so stunned, she had accused Steph’s friends of seeing way too much into every small thing and had advised Steph to put that idea out of her head immediately. It was just too ridiculous for words.

  Solange didn’t react to Steph’s bait. Dominique hoped Steph would just let it go, even though the thought of something—the tiniest of unexpected rapports—existing between Solange and Aurore did temporarily relieve Dominique’s nerves. But she had made the decision to do this. She was on her way to an interview during which she would publicly—and live on air—express her support for the bill, without having consulted with her party first. Some old dinosaurs would be calling round her father’s house tonight asking for her head on a platter, no doubt telling him his daughter is too progressive to be an MLR president, that she was a disgrace to the values the party stood for, but her father would just have to deal with it.

  Seeing her own child lying helpless in a hospital bed was what had really changed Dominique’s mind about not wanting to waste an ounce of her energy on trying to convince a bunch of old men in tailored suits that women who were not married to a man needed to have the same rights as any other woman. There was not an inch of leeway on that position at all, it was a given, and the current law an anomaly.

  The love for her little girl that had her in such a panic at the time, had also realigned her with what was really important. Spending an evening with a bunch of men, half of whom still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that their leader was a woman living with a woman, suddenly seemed like such a waste of time and energy. If half of politics was, indeed, optics, Dominique would spend her precious time supporting the bill in public rather than trying to win support for it from people whom it didn’t even concern.

  “We’re here,” Solange said. “You’re going to do great. This is what you do best, remember?”

  Dominique nodded. Being nervous beforehand was just part of the job. Once she got going, her nerves always quickly evaporated.

  “Let’s do this,” she said, and patted both her partner and her chief of staff on the knee.

  Anne Rivière was a striking woman. Dominique studied her from her seat while they were waiting to be called into the radio studio.

  As always when faced with a promising socialist politician, she allowed herself to think for a brief moment what a waste of a fine politician that was. Rivière might make the socialists feel as though they were ready for a revival, but Dominique was convinced that the socialists would never make a full comeback unless they truly reinvented themselves. The world had changed. People responded to different things now. And the socialist message was a difficult one to get across through all the populist chatter and alt-right propaganda. Besides, Dominique had to believe that, as long as she was in charge, someone like Rivière wouldn’t stand a chance of taking her seat as president.

  An employee of the radio station came to escort them into the studio. Unlike Dominique, Anne Rivière had come alone. Maybe because she knew she was in friendly territory, whereas Dominique was clearly not.

  “Break a leg,” Steph said.

  Solange gave her an uncharacteristic thumbs-up. Both politicians were led into the heart of the action and fitted with a pair of headphones before being shown to their places in front of a microphone.

  As nervous as she had been before, that all evaporated leaving Dominique cool and calm. That one minute before it all kicked off. That delicious tension running up her spine. The hint of trepidation, which might very well be something else entirely, but that was always how Dominique chose to interpret it, in her opponent’s eyes. And the sudden rush of knowing she had made the right decision. Dominique didn’t belong in a stuffy dining room with a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. This was where she should be. Talking to the people. Building bridges. Showing the MLR dinosaurs how it was done—and why she was president.

  Aurore made her little intro speech and welcomed them both to the show. Courtesy obliged her to let Dominique, as president, speak first. She probably had Anne Rivière on her show every other week, touting her progressive politics—some of which Dominique agreed with, but most of them were just too unrealistic for her MLR mind to even consider.

  “Your listeners might not have ever expected me on your show, but I’m thrilled to be here, Aurore,” Dominique said. “And I’m equally thrilled to be here alongside Madame Rivière, who has shown the courage to right a wrong, although, if you’ll allow me to say this, the socialists were in power for five years before I came along, and they never thought to fix this glaring inequality in the law while they were in charge.”

  And off they went. In the limelight, Dominique could always hold her own. This was what she lived for. This was why she did this job and why she was good at it. And why, ultimately, she would run for a second term.

  “I, myself, am in a partnership with a woman,” Dominique said, planning to go out with a bang—and steal some more of Rivière’s thunder while she was at it. “Let’s be honest, I’m getting on, but Stéphanie is still young. What if she wanted a child, but I, as the president of this country, had to send her abroad because according to the law she�
��s not allowed to go to a sperm bank, simply because she’s not married to a man?” She glanced at Rivière across from her. “So I thank the Deputée for, finally, introducing this bill, and making our country a more equal place for women. And I thank you, Aurore, for inviting me here tonight. I had a blast. I hope I get to come back.”

  “I would love to have you and Stéphanie as guests some time.” Aurore didn’t even glance at Rivière to possibly give her the last word. She signed off and they were all hustled out of the studio. Only then, could Dominique take a deep breath.

  “Well played.” Anne Rivière held out her hand. “We should talk some time, Madam President. You’ve shown today that you’re open to crossing the aisle. Give me a call if you ever want to take that a step further.”

  “I will.” Dominique grasped Rivière’s hand and sent her a warm smile. “It was a pleasure to spend some quality time with you.”

  “I need to get back to my office. Bills to prepare and so on, you know how it is.” Rivière smiled and walked towards the exit. “Aurore, let’s talk tomorrow.”

  After the door had closed behind Rivière, Aurore held out her hand to Dominique. “Thank you for a great interview.”

  Dominique shook it, and said, “You should come to dinner again. We need a do-over.” She turned to Solange. “Don’t you think, Solange?”

  “Um, sure. Yeah.” Was that a blush on her cheeks? It usually took a bit more than Dominique going on a radio show to get Solange flustered.

  “I can’t believe you said that.” Steph came up to Dominique. “Right at the end, just when I thought you were doing so well, you say something like that.”

  “It was a brilliant thing to say,” Solange said.

  “I just prefer for my uterus not be spoken of for political gain,” Steph said. “Can you even imagine? Me, with child?”

  Solange shook her head.

  “Why not?” Aurore said.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve used you for political purposes, darling,” Dominique said. Even though it had been a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing to say, Steph would have been far more offended by Dominique not putting her support behind this bill than by her mentioning Steph’s name in that context on a radio show. Steph knew that was how politics worked, which was another reason why, most of the time, the two of them worked so well as a couple.