The Paris Game

by Alyssa Linn Palmer

  It should have been Henri running the business, but he’d been killed in a training exercise during his military service. Marc forced thoughts of Henri out of his mind as he strolled up to the main entrance of Claridge’s. He pushed through the revolving door with its nickel accents and into the lobby, crowded with people making their way to the evening’s dinner and entertainment. He went straight to his suite and poured himself a scotch. He leaned over the desk at the window to see the streetlights glowing in the setting sun. No doubt Madelaine would be here soon. He loosened his tie. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. It was the butler, Edwards.

  “Good evening, sir. May I get you anything?”

  “I’d like a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, whatever year you deem best, and two glasses. Also, whatever the kitchen’s specialty is for the evening meal.”

  “Very good, sir. Tonight that would be the roast beef. Will that be all?”

  “If you happen to see a lovely redheaded Irishwoman wandering about, with a braid and a charming smile, do send her my way.”

  Edwards smiled. “Of course, sir. Should I take the liberty of having two bottles of the Veuve sent up?”

  “That would be best,” Marc agreed. “Thank you, Edwards.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” Edwards retreated and Marc heard the door click shut behind him.

  His meal and the champagne were delivered by a young man who laid the desk with a full place setting. Marc ate swiftly and had just finished when there was another knock on the door. He set his napkin aside and rose to answer.

  It was Madelaine, with Edwards just behind her. Marc stepped back and drew the door wider. Madelaine smiled at him affectionately as she walked in.

  “Good evening, Marc.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Edwards waited patiently on the other side of the threshold and Marc wished the man would promptly disappear.

  “Is there anything else this evening, sir?”

  Marc glanced at Madelaine. “Have you eaten?”

  She nodded. “On my way here. I should be fine.”

  “Then just the dishes from my supper can be cleared away,” he told Edwards, reaching into his pocket for several bills, which the butler took with a nod as he moved around them. Madelaine unbuttoned her coat and he drew it off her shoulders, hanging it in the closet.

  “Can I offer you a glass of champagne?” he inquired as they walked into the sitting room. Edwards finished gathering the dishes and tray and gave them a polite nod as he withdrew.

  “I would love one.” She settled herself on the sofa, crossing her legs. He let his gaze move up her slim stockinged leg as he reached for the bottle of champagne. Her skirt was shorter than it had been in the shop. Obviously she had gone home to change. Her shirt was still white, but it was of better quality and as she reached out to accept the glass of champagne, his silver cufflinks glinted in the light.

  “You changed,” he said with amusement. “Very nice cufflinks, by the way.” Madelaine smiled and sipped her champagne.

  “I knew you wouldn’t mind if I were a little bit late, and this is nicer than what I was wearing earlier.” She shifted her legs and the skirt rode up her thigh so he could see the lacy tops of her stockings and the ribbon over the clasps on her garter belt.

  “I certainly won’t complain.” He sipped his champagne. “I see you’ve also put my cufflinks to good use.”

  “I’m rather fond of them.” She ran a finger over the scalloped silver edge. “They’re elegant, and I have some rather pleasant memories.”

  He drained his glass and held out a hand to her. She set her glass aside and rose, stepping around the coffee table to take his hand. Even though her features were sharper than Sera’s and her eyes blue instead of dark brown, he found himself thinking of Sera instead of her. He gently turned Madelaine and took the elastic from the end of her braid. He heard her make a small, relaxed sigh as he began to undo her braid, running his fingers through her hair so it flowed in waves over her shoulders. When he was done, she turned.

  “Better?” she asked. “I remember you asked me to take my hair down the first time.”

  “You’re even lovelier with your hair down, like Boudicca,” he told her with a grin. Madelaine laughed.

  “I left my armour at home.” She began unbuttoning her shirt, revealing a delicate lacy bra. “It’s more fun without it, though.”

  When she had finished and her shirt hung open, he lifted her hands one after the other to remove the cufflinks from her shirt. The silver links clattered on the table and he stripped the shirt from her and tossed it onto the sofa. He heard the buzz of his phone as he slid the bra strap from Madelaine’s freckled shoulder. He ignored it, but Madelaine stopped his hand.

  “Is that your phone? I don’t mind.”

  He caught it on its last ring, pulling the phone from the pocket of his suit jacket that he had draped over the chair. It was a Paris number.

  “Oui?”

  He heard Sera laugh. “Took you long enough. Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

  “Perhaps.” He leaned against the desk, watching Madelaine sip her champagne, glad she didn’t understand French. “Were you calling to tell me that you’ll be staying with me for the next three months? I’d cut this trip short.”

  “You haven’t won yet, but neither have I.” He heard her exhale. “You were right about Edouard.”

  “I knew it.” Marc paused as Madelaine walked over and sat in the chair in front of him. She gave him a mischievous smile and he watched her reach up to his belt. “Did you call to talk dirty to me?”

  “You only wish,” Sera replied. Her mood seemed to have changed since this morning and he could picture her amused expression. Madelaine unzipped his trousers and leaned towards him. He smoothed his hand over her hair in encouragement and shifted his hips as she pushed the fabric down.

  “Of course I do. You wouldn’t want me to spend my evening being lonely, would you?”

  Madelaine’s hands were on his cock and he could feel her breath playing over him as she leaned forward to run her tongue over the head.

  “You wouldn’t be alone long,” Sera replied. “It would be unlike you.”

  “But I am,” he replied even as Madelaine took him fully into her mouth. His hand tightened in her hair.

  “Poor boy,” he heard Sera say. “I’m all alone too, in my dressing room at the club.”

  “What would you do if I were there?” Marc closed his eyes and stifled a gasp as Madelaine took him deeper.

  “You think I have time to get you off?” Sera asked. He glanced at his watch. She would have finished her first set by now and there was rarely a second set in the middle of the week.

  “You’re done for the night, aren’t you?”

  “That doesn’t mean I have time, Marc.”

  “Then you called just to tell me about Edouard. I’m disappointed, ma chère.” Madelaine played her tongue along the underside of his cock. If only it were Sera. “Remember when I used to call you? I loved hearing your moans in my ear as you came.” He thought he heard her breath catch.

  “I remember.”

  “There’s never been anyone like you,” he told her. “Tell me what you would do, what you are doing.”

  There was a pause and then he heard her chuckle quietly. “I’m imagining you on your knees for once, on the floor in front of my chair, watching me as I draw my dress up my thighs.”

  Marc rocked his hips forward as Madelaine slowly withdrew her mouth. Her hands were on him again, her thumb running along the underside of his cock.

  “And then?”

  “I’d make you take off my stockings. You’d pull down my lace underwear and I’d spread myself so you could tease me with that talented tongue of yours.”

  Marc almost groaned. He looked down at Madelaine, who paused, the head of his cock resting against her lips. Her blue eyes watched him as she ran her tongue over the tip of his cock.

  “I love to taste you,” he told Sera. H
e heard her make a noise and there was a rustle of fabric. “Are you touching yourself for me?”

  “Yes,” she gasped into the phone. “You’ve put your fingers in me and I don’t want you to stop.”

  Madelaine flicked her tongue over him again and this time he did groan.

  “In. Please,” he mouthed at her. She smiled and obeyed and he closed his eyes again. It could be Sera in the room with him now.

  “I’d suck your clit into my mouth and listen to your moans,” he told Sera. He wasn’t going to last much longer as Madelaine sucked him, but he wanted to hear Sera come first. “My fingers would be curling inside you, stroking you...” He heard her whimper and knew she was close. “I’d fill you with my fingers and lick them clean once I’d made you come.”

  At that, he heard her small cry, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He looked down at Madelaine and she looked back at him, taking him deep into her mouth, grasping his hips so that he couldn’t move away. Her tongue pressed against him and he gasped, spilling into her mouth.

  “You’re welcome, mon coeur,” he heard Sera murmur. “I have to go.” Her voice sounded shaky and he wanted to be there with her. “Goodnight, Marc.”

  “Merci, ma chère.”

  He dropped the phone to the desk and bent forward, lifting Madelaine’s head. He kissed her deeply and she pulled him forward until he pressed her into the chair.

  “Who was that?” Madelaine asked breathlessly.

  “A rather indulgent friend,” Marc replied. He pushed her skirt up her thighs, kneeling in front of her. He unhooked her stockings, drawing them slowly down her legs, tasting the dampness of her inner thighs with his tongue as he went. He felt her shudder.

  “I wish I had friends like that.” Madelaine’s voice quivered. Marc hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and tugged. She lifted herself up and he slid them down her legs as she moved to the edge of the chair. As he spread her thighs and teased her clit with his tongue, she jerked under him and let out a delicate mew. He held her thighs apart and took her into his mouth, listening to her moan and gasp above him. If he couldn’t have Sera, then Madelaine was a delectable second. She came apart as he grazed his teeth over her clit and slipped his tongue into her to taste her. He slowed his movements, only stopping when her shivering ceased.

  He rose to his feet, buckling his belt as he went.

  “Ready for more?” he asked her.

  “I don’t think I can walk yet.” She giggled, sprawled in the chair.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.” He hooked one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily into his embrace. She clutched his neck.

  “Don’t you dare drop me.”

  “Of course not.” He kissed her again, carrying her into the bedroom, but he still heard Sera’s moans in his mind.

  Chapter 9

  Jean barged into Sera’s dressing room just as she took her dress from its hanger. He held a bouquet of roses in a cut glass vase, but his gaze took in every inch of flesh left uncovered by the shimmering fabric she draped over herself to conceal her undress.

  “You have a delivery,” he announced, falsely solicitous.

  “How many times have I told you to knock?” Sera snapped. Jean placed the vase on the vanity, giving her an insolent stare, as if he knew the precariousness of her current situation. He sauntered out of the room and she sank into the chair, letting the cocktail dress hang over her arm. Once her heart stopped pounding and her breathing calmed, she resumed her preparations, stepping into the sleek dress and gliding it up over her stockings, slipping her arms through the delicate cap sleeves. The dark fabric rose high in the back, covering her from nape to foot, but dipped in a low vee in front, clinging to her braless cleavage. It was the perfect dress to seduce the crowd, but after Jean’s intrusion, she wished she’d chosen something more modest.

  She smoothed the fabric over her hips. The scent of roses overtook the usual slight musty smell of the small room and she bent to sniff the blossoms. She turned the vase, but there was no card. Had they come from Marc? He had occasionally surprised her, but the dark velvet blooms were too stereotypical a choice and not to his tastes. She tugged one stem from the bouquet and brushed it under her nose, inhaling the rich fragrance, its colour stark against her pale skin. She set the rose on the vanity and opened the drawer, searching through the tubes of lipstick until she found the one she needed. She sat down in the chair and carefully did up her makeup, lining her eyes with smoky dark shadow and powdering her face. For the final touch she uncapped the lipstick and applied a shade the same colour as the rose.

  Sera stared at herself in the mirror. The growing murmur of the crowd filtered through the closed door. They were expecting a beautiful torch singer and she would make good on their desire. She picked up the rose and took one last breath of its sweetness. Time to go.

  As she ascended the stage, a smattering of applause spread through the club. She laid the rose on Benoît’s piano.

  “You’re too kind.” He smiled at her. “Prête?”

  Sera stepped up to the microphone, letting the spotlight play over her figure, her dress shimmering. She couldn’t see faces, but she bestowed a seductive half smile to those shadows of people sitting near the edge of the stage. The light dimmed slightly and she could see features—men and women—ready and attentive.

  The melody from Benoît’s piano started quietly and she suppressed a shiver. He’d begun with her favourite Piaf, 'Hymne d’Amour'. She loosely clasped the microphone as the first note fell from her lips. In the front row, a woman looked at her in awe. Sera felt a surge of excitement, almost arousal, as she continued, letting her sultry tones flow out over the audience. Her free hand rested on her hip, falling to her side and then rising for emphasis as she put power and longing into the chorus. She had them in her hands and under her spell. As she drew out the final phrase and the music faded away, the crowd seemed to break free from her spell and applause filled the club. She acknowledged them with an elegant nod. Tonight was going to be a good night.

  Sera didn’t even try to hide her satisfied smile as she stepped down from the stage and returned to her dressing room, her steps confident and assured. The crowd had been enthusiastic tonight and she had loved it. She reached for her mobile phone. She had to share her delight. Her thumb poised over Marc’s number before she she thought better of it and put her phone away. He wouldn’t be alone tonight, even if he had been the night before. She still wondered if he’d been the one to have the bouquet of roses sent to her dressing room. There had been no card, no hint of the sender when they’d arrived in her dressing room earlier in the evening.

  She touched up her makeup in the foggy old mirror and hooked the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She’d go out to the bar and Edouard would pour her a drink, Jean would tell her the night’s earnings, and she’d hopefully see Jeremy again. He had come by for a drink last night, but hadn’t been able to stay.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he’d said, walking her to the taxi rank and giving her a passionate kiss good night. “I have work to do.”

  “At night?” She found that strange.

  “Some of us never sleep,” he teased. He’d opened the door for her and given her one last kiss.

  She hadn’t seen him yet tonight, but with the crowd it had been difficult to focus on individual customers. She pushed open the door and went back out into the chatter and clink of glasses. Edouard set a glass on the bar in front of her, but it wasn’t her usual Coca-Cola. She lifted the glass of champagne and gave him a questioning look.

  “You have an admirer,” he replied before being called away to attend another customer. She sipped the champagne and tried to look for Jeremy. An arm snaked around her waist and she was pulled back against a hard, male form. Lips teased at the hollow behind her ear.

  “You were wonderful,” Jeremy’s low voice purred. She giggled and turned her head.

  “Was the champagne your doing?” she asked, k
issing his cheek.

  “Of course. And the roses. Did you like them?”

  “They’re beautiful.” She kissed him fully on the mouth and he tightened his grasp before letting her loose.

  “I have a table,” he said, taking her hand. She took the flute of champagne and let him lead her through the crowd. He had managed to get a small table and Jean stood over it until they arrived. She tried to keep her face composed, but it seemed out of place for Jean to have put himself out for a single customer. Jean gave Jeremy a nod, which Jeremy returned as he pulled out her chair. If only all men could be so gentlemanly. She smiled up at him and he settled in the chair across from her. The crowd made it difficult to hear and she leaned closer, their legs brushing under the table.

  “I was thinking about you today,” he said, reaching out to run a finger down her arm.

  “But you saw me last night,” she replied.

  “That’s because I couldn’t stay,” he told her. “I wanted to.”

  “Did work go well?”

  Jeremy’s reply was interrupted by a couple that appeared at the table. Both were flushed from drink.

  “You’re so talented,” the woman gushed, pushing close. Sera recognized her from the table nearest the stage. The woman had spent both sets rapt. Her companion grinned at Sera, his eyes dipping down over her chest and the cleavage of her gown.

  “Merci.” Sera smiled pleasantly at the woman and ignored the lecherous glances being cast her way. Jeremy shifted in his chair and rose, interrupting the woman’s next glowing comment.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” he said testily, his eyes narrowing at the man, who took a step back.

  “Terribly sorry,” he said, grasping the woman’s arm. Sera gave them a small smile as they retreated into the crowd. Jeremy took his seat but glared after them.