French Kissing: Season Two

by Harper Bliss

  “You’ve got to stop thinking like that, Claire.” Steph’s hand found her knee. “We all fuck up. It comes with being human. Life’s mainly about rectifying our mistakes. Some are forgivable, some aren’t. It’s all part of the deal.”

  “How did your evening go?” Claire suddenly remembered that Steph had had a big night planned. “Kids okay with it?”

  “The children are hardly the problem. Dominique drove us over to her parents on a whim and decided to officially come out to Xavier Laroche.”

  “Seriously?” Claire sat up a bit straighter. “What did the godfather of the MLR have to say about that?”

  “Oh, the man is pussy-whipped for sure.” Steph snickered. “There’s only one boss in that marriage, and it isn’t Mister Laroche.” Her lips curved into a wide smile. “Dominique’s mother is quite the formidable force.”

  “How did she react?” Claire’s attention was piqued.

  “Like you would fantasise when you first start thinking about being introduced to your girlfriend’s parents. She was amazing. She already knew, of course, and then she told her husband in no uncertain terms that he had no choice but to accept it and go along with the plan.”

  “Someone has been charmed.” Claire teased.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being fond of your future mother-in-law.”

  “True.” Claire was brusquely reminded of last night again. “I saw Margot’s parents last night. They arrived at the hospital when I was still there.”

  “What were they like?”

  “Old. Much older than my parents, at least they looked it. And very pale.” An image of Margot’s ochre skin against her white bedsheets jumped into her head.

  “Let’s go for a drink after work, okay?” Steph looked like she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “Don’t you have to go play happy families with Dominique?”

  “She has the kids so we try to behave.”

  “Does that mean you go out drinking instead?” Maybe they should all drink a bit less, Claire thought—not for the first time in her life, and, she knew, totally in vain.

  “Do we have a date?” Steph insisted, ignoring Claire’s question.

  “Depends. Nadia might call to let me know I can see Margot.”

  “Okay.” The silence that followed was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Claire jumped, hoping it would be Nadia. If she could just see Margot briefly, to assess the damage in person, to just say hello, and to let her know she was thinking about her. But it was Steph’s phone doing the ringing.

  “Speaking of,” Steph said. “I’d better take this outside.”

  After Steph had left, Claire sat pondering the devilish question Steph had asked her earlier. Did she, after all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, still want to sleep with Dievart? The fact that she couldn’t reply to that question with a resounding ‘no’ made her stomach ache.

  STEPH

  Madame Moreau regarded Steph with aggression in her glance. “Just here for some PR advice,” she’d said when she’d arrived at the Palais Bourbon. “It might not be on the schedule. Madame Laroche just called me for an emergency meeting.” She’d tried her widest smile but the woman was hardly born yesterday.

  “I’m sure she did,” Dominique’s secretary said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Please wait a moment.”

  Sitting in one of the chairs in the hallway outside of Dominique’s office reminded Steph of that first time she had sat there, before that first solo meeting with Dominique. The memory made her pulse quicken.

  “Madame Laroche will see you now.” Steph couldn’t look past the distinct pout on Madame Moreau’s lips. Old school MLR then, she guessed.

  She nodded at her in an exaggerated fashion before entering Dominique’s office.

  “What’s the emergency, Madame Députée?” Steph asked. “Your secretary seemed none too pleased to see me. I’m not sure we should ever tell her.”

  Dominique sat behind her impressive desk, her palms planted on the surface, arms spread wide. It only took one glimpse for Steph to know why she’d been called here.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’ll get over it.” Dominique paused to pin her eyes on Steph. “My mother just called. She adores you.”

  “Although this is good news, you could have told me that over the phone.” Steph stood with her back against the door.

  “Why don’t you put off Madame Moreau a bit more and lock the door.”

  Steph rolled her eyes. “These are your office hours. Is this really how you want to spend the taxpayers’ money?” She turned around and locked the door without further protest.

  “Why don’t we spend your tax money today then? If it makes you feel any better.”

  “That’s certainly not how I would want my funds to be used.”

  “Oh really? You think I won’t make it worth your while, Stéphanie?”

  “I’m just not in the habit of paying for it.”

  Dominique still sat in the exact same position, exuding extreme power. “Come here already, before I change my mind.”

  Steph pretended to sigh reluctantly, but hurried to Dominique’s side of the desk anyway.

  Dominique swivelled her chair so she faced Steph. “You can start by taking off your clothes.”

  “Are you for real?” Steph shook her head. “I refuse to be naked in the Palais Bourbon.”

  Dominique leaned back, an amused smile on her face. “Don’t argue, baby, you know you won’t win.”

  “The nerve of some politicians. It’s bad enough that you call me over here in the middle of the day.” Steph brought her hands to her side, hoping to take a non-compliant stance. “If you want me naked, you’ll have to undress me.”

  “Fair enough.” Dominique rose. “I’m not wholly unreasonable.” She pushed Steph’s blazer off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

  “Hey, that’s a designer brand.”

  “No, it’s not.” Dominique slipped a finger underneath a button of Steph’s blouse. She started opening it, and Steph fell silent. Dominique found her eyes and Steph felt her blood speed up in her veins. Air met her skin as Dominique progressed downwards and parted the sides of her blouse. Only after she’d escorted all of Steph’s upper body garments to the floor did she lean in to kiss her. “Thanks for coming,” she whispered in Steph’s ear after they broke from the kiss. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. So I guess I’ve spent more than just your share of taxes already.” She pressed her lips to Steph’s neck and the entire expanse of her exposed skin broke out in goosebumps.

  Dominique went for the button of her jeans next. “Give me a hand, will you?” she instructed more than asked. Steph quickly stepped out of her shoes and pushed her trousers down—underwear and all. And then there she stood. As naked as Dominique had first demanded.

  Dominique took a step backwards and admired her handiwork. “Hop on the desk,” she said, as though it were just an everyday request.

  Steph could protest, but she didn’t really feel like it. She walked towards the desk and jumped on without qualms.

  “Spread your legs.” Dominique rolled her chair closer. “Put your feet on the seat. I want to see you.”

  Steph leaned back on her hands, and did as she was told, exposing her entire self in the process.

  Dominique squinted, as though she were about to lay eyes on something she’d never seen before. Then a loud ringing coming from just behind Steph startled them both.

  “De merde,” Dominique cursed. She reached for the phone, listened for a fraction of a second, and said, “hold all my calls until after this meeting. All of them.”

  Steph tried to look unfazed and continued to lean back on her hands, but her legs were starting to push together of their own accord.

  “You must have really rubbed her up the wrong way.” Dominique pulled at Steph’s knees. “Madame Moreau usually knows not to interrupt unless it’s an extreme emergency.”

  “Speaking of emergencies,�
� Steph said, letting her knees fall to either side again.

  “Let me through.” Dominique tapped against her thigh and Steph lifted her leg so Dominique could sit in her fancy politician’s chair, in between Steph’s spread legs. This was starting to resemble an ob-gyn appointment more than anything else.

  “Are you going to examine me next?” Steph asked.

  Dominique shook her head and reached for a drawer in her desk. “I bought this.” She presented Steph with a rather run-of-the-mill vibrator.

  “Congratulations,” Steph said. “Special office delivery, was it? Maybe that’s why Madame Moreau is in such a sour mood today.”

  “I want you to use it on yourself while I watch.”

  “Is this for the YouTube video?”

  “Just for the one in my head.” Dominique’s voice indicated she was in no mood for banter. She held the toy suggestively in her hand, rubbing along its length.

  Steph wasn’t sure she was up for this. “I may need a bit more incentive than just your desire.” She slanted her head. “I came all this way and you’re not even going to touch me?”

  “I will. After.” Dominique came a little closer. “Let me bring this to body temperature for you.” She sat close enough for Steph to smell her perfume, but there was enough room between them for the vibrator, a simple off-white ridged model—from a starter kit, Steph thought. Dominique brought it to her lips and sucked it in her mouth. Steph didn’t feel the tiny pangs of cramp in her wrists anymore, only heat in her blood and a twitch in her exposed pussy.

  “Here you go.” Dominique tried to hand her the vibrator.

  Steph shook her head. “I don’t think you thought this through, Madame Députée. How am I supposed to hold it without back support?”

  “I may have let my excitement get the better of me.” Dominique chewed her bottom lip for an instant.

  “Either you use it on me or I sit in your chair,” Steph said. It wasn’t very like Dominique to be so unprepared. “Or we talk about what’s bothering you.”

  A sparkle returned to Dominique’s eyes. “I’ll drive, then,” she said. She turned the base of the vibrator a fraction. The light whir brought a smile to her lips. “Enjoy the ride, Stéphanie.”

  Once they had the flat to themselves again, Steph would show her how it was really done. Dominique moved back and lowered the toy between Steph’s legs. She couldn’t feel it yet, but just the thought of it approaching her clit made her breath catch in her throat.

  A smile broke on Steph’s face when the tip made contact with her pussy lips. Dominique let it slide through the wetness that had pooled there during Steph’s undressing, and her sitting naked in front of Dominique on her official députée desk.

  “Let’s see how long you’ll last.” Dominique’s voice had dropped into the huskier range.

  Steph wasn’t a big aficionado of toys of the vibrating kind, although she knew full well that they rarely missed their effect. She just preferred to use her tongue. But, once again, Dominique was turning her world—and life-long preferences—upside down.

  Dominique dragged the tip up to Steph’s clit and the first contact was electric, zapping her blood with a fresh shot of endorphins. Dominique looked away from between Steph’s legs and found her eyes. How had she gotten Steph in this position so easily again? Dominique was still fully dressed, not a hair out of place, while Steph’s legs were spread on her desk and the buzzing of the vibrator combined with the look in Dominique’s eyes, was wreaking havoc in her flesh.

  Dominique made tiny circular movements with the vibrator and let her eyes roam over Steph’s body. Steph noticed her glance halting on her breasts. They heaved with the shortness of breath the toy was creating between her legs, and then it all came together. Dominique’s glare, the vibrations against her clit, the sheer nakedness of her skin covered in gooseflesh while her insides turned to hot liquid.

  “Oh fuck,” Steph hissed. “Oh.” She fell clumsily on her elbows. The tendons in her wrists burned from holding up her weight in an awkward position, and she knocked the phone off the desk with her arm in the process.

  “No need to destroy my office, baby.” Dominique stood and leaned over her. She didn’t let her recover, but pushed Steph further down onto the desk so the back of her head hit a stack of papers. Dominique tossed the vibrator on the chair behind her and slipped two fingers inside of Steph.

  “Oh damn,” Steph howled.

  Dominique stroked her deep from the beginning, probably figuring Steph was warmed up enough. She was warm, all right, and also highly sensitive. At last, Dominique locked her lips around Steph’s nipple, her teeth grazing the taut bud. When she broke free she pinned her eyes on Steph and tilted her head as though asking, “Is this enough touching for you?” She didn’t say anything, however, but instead, shot Steph the warmest, most loving smile—one that cut right through her, and reached every tiny cell of her body that hadn’t succumbed yet.

  Steph’s feet had slipped from the chair long ago and she tried to find purchase with her heels against the front of the desk—against the drawer out of which a vibrator had magically appeared. She liked to give some push-back when she was being fucked by Dominique, to at least have the impression she was a tiny bit in control of events. It was just an illusion, she knew, but still. She managed to shove her pelvis up, to meet Dominique’s strokes.

  “Come for me, Stéphanie,” Dominique whispered, and Steph knew that once she started with the talk, it would only be a matter of minutes. There was something about that voice that she had initially only associated with televised speeches and political debates that was now aimed at her, in this intimate setting, that made fireworks pop in her blood. “I know you can. I know you want to. For me.”

  It was the ‘for me’ specifically that tipped Steph over the edge this time. She flung her arm towards her head, knocking an unidentified object off of Dominique’s desk.

  “Aah,” she moaned, and she didn’t care how loud it was, or about the passive-aggressive shuffling of feet outside the door.

  Dominique kept her fingers inside a few seconds longer than necessary, just because she could, Steph knew that much. Just as bossy as her mother, Steph thought.

  “What will Madame Moreau think of this mess, baby?” Dominique asked after Steph had pushed herself up. “You’ll have to try very hard to get back into her good books now.”

  JULIETTE

  Juliette sat in her office, toying with her phone. Who should she call? François? She could call the hospital in Lille but wasn’t sure if her father was still admitted. If Margot wasn’t in hospital herself, she could have called her and asked to inquire about how long someone needs to stay hospitalised after having open heart surgery, but Margot being a patient at Saint-Vincent was the only reason Juliette was even considering contacting her family.

  She thought back at that moment when she’d realised it had been Margot riding the crashed motorcycle, and the pure dread that had rushed through her blood. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t shouted at anyone yet about Marie Dievart and the ways—all of them highly unpleasant—she kept materialising in her life.

  Claire was probably in her office right now, waiting for Juliette to barge in and give her an earful. But instead of being engulfed by anger about witnessing Dievart and Claire arrive at the hospital together—and the conclusions she had quickly drawn—she was consumed by what-ifs. What if Margot hadn’t been so lucky? What if the van had been driving faster? What if her helmet hadn’t protected her the way it had? What if she hadn’t survived? What would it have mattered then that Claire had somehow ended up in bed with Dievart?

  Juliette was the one who had known first, the one to absorb the news first-hand, and she still hadn’t been able to fully recover from that shock. The thoughts that played in her head in that moment had shed a different light on her own issues, a light that hadn’t gone out yet.

  If she postponed contacting her relatives, it would only get harder. Now was the time. Now, when sh
e hadn’t fully returned to every day life yet, and still lingered in that post-shock haze. But she didn’t want to call François. Perhaps because she blamed him more and if any forgiveness would come into play at some point—which was definitely not a given—he would not be on the receiving end of it.

  So, Juliette pulled up the e-mail from her father’s partner Elizabeth, and read it again. Her phone number was written in the signature.

  “Oh, sod it,” Juliette said to no one in particular, reached for her phone, and punched in the number. Someone picked up after three rings—three rings during which Juliette’s heart rate skyrocketted to alarming heights.

  “Hello. Betty speaking,” a voice said.

  “This is Juliette Barbier. Bertrand’s daughter.” Juliette hadn’t referred to herself like that in years and she instantly regretted it.

  “I’m so happy you called.” The voice on the other end of the line remained calm. “Bertrand will be over the moon.”

  “I’d like to see him. The coming weekend if it’s convenient.” Juliette kept it matter-of-fact. After all, she didn’t know this woman. She didn’t even know what she looked like.

  “Definitely. He’s being discharged later this week. Whenever suits you. Shall I send you the address?”

  How odd, Juliette thought, that some stranger needs to give me the address to my own father’s house. “Sure. You have my e-mail address.”

  “Consider it done,” Betty said. “Erm, Juliette, just one thing…” The first hint of hesitation. “Your father has had a very invasive surgery and needs to keep very calm. He shouldn’t be subjected to conflict too much. I’m not saying that—”

  “Understood,” Juliette cut her off, because she didn’t feel like being lectured. “I’ll come on Saturday. My fiancée Nadia will be joining me. Perhaps tell him that already so he doesn’t need to get all worked up when we arrive.” Juliette couldn’t help herself.