Season Five: French Kissing, Book 5

by Harper Bliss

  “I’m going to win this election, Aurore. I know that must hurt, after you left my campaign to be with Madame Uptight. But I’m going to beat Dominique.” She painted on the kind of smirk Aurore would have expected to see on Sybille’s face, but never on Anne’s. “You tell Dominique I greatly look forward to tomorrow’s debate. Sparks will fly, that’s a guarantee.”

  “You know what?” Aurore stood. “I’m so bloody happy I left your campaign before it turned into this—before you turned into this power-hungry cliché.” Aurore towered over Anne. “I always believed you would give Dominique a hell of a fight, but after this conversation, I know you’re no match for her. She’s a million times the woman—and politician—you are. She has principles and honour. And she’s a damn good president.” Before she turned around, she gave Rivière one last look. “I sure as hell won’t be voting for you.”

  Episode Twenty-two

  Solange

  Solange watched Aurore take a deep breath. She wasn’t one for public displays of affection, especially not in the president’s office, but Aurore looked shaken, and Solange secretly wanted to give her a hug.

  “I think Claire’s right,” Aurore said. She bowed her head and rubbed her temple. “Anne Rivière is having an affair with her campaign manager.”

  Dominique rolled her eyes.

  Is this what politics has become? Solange thought. Trading in the most intimate information on the opposing candidate?

  “It might explain things,” Dominique said. “But it doesn’t matter. Rivière might as well be sleeping with Angela Merkel, you know I will never use any of that against her.”

  Solange snickered. She couldn’t help herself. She knew it was crunch time—well past crunch time even, perhaps—but this whole situation was so incredibly surreal. Dominique was right. Surely the presidency couldn’t hinge on who the other candidate was sleeping with.

  “I don’t think her husband knows.” Aurore sagged into a chair. “Poor Eddy.”

  “I think Anne Rivière has made a grave error of judgement.” Earlier, after they’d come back from their meeting with Sybille, Claire and Juliette had informed Solange about Sybille’s time at Barbier & Cyr. Details she should have been made aware of long ago, although Solange wasn’t sure what she would have done with them. If anything, she might have tried to protect Aurore from that leaked video.

  “You don’t say.” Aurore let her head tip back. “Maybe none of this would have happened if I’d stayed on as her advisor.”

  “You can’t even for a minute blame yourself for this, Aurore,” Dominique said.

  “Here’s a hypothetical question for you.” Solange took the chair next to Aurore’s. “Say you had stayed with the Socialists and you’d been in Rivière’s camp after Dominique’s wedding date was leaked. How do you think they would have responded without being able to use the video?”

  “I have no idea,” Aurore said.

  “Look.” Dominique planted her palms on her desk and leaned towards them. “All of this… it doesn’t matter. In the end, I still believe it will come down to who’s the best candidate, regardless of all this slander.” Her voice grew in power. “Let them say what they want about Stéphanie. We simply don’t respond to any of it. We’ve wasted enough time. The debate’s tomorrow.” She fixed her gaze on Aurore. “Did Rivière look ready?”

  “She certainly claimed to be.” Aurore sat up a bit straighter. “But I could see the cracks. Anne’s under immense pressure and she’s feeling it. Which is probably why she turned to Sybille a bit too… eagerly.”

  Dominique nodded.

  “That’s good information to have.” Solange put a hand on Aurore’s knee. She didn’t care that the president was towering over them, watching their every move.

  “It’s late,” Dominique said. “You two, go home. Get some rest.”

  “I should stay,” Solange protested.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Dominique said. “You know that.”

  “I do, but—”

  Solange didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence.

  “It’s been a draining day. Extra rehearsing isn’t going to help me anymore. I need some rest too.”

  Solange nodded and took Aurore home.

  “Darling,” Solange started, once they had crashed into the sofa. “It looks to me as though finding out about Rivière’s affair has upset you more than that video of you being leaked.”

  “When you’re running for president, who you’re with matters. Who you fall in love with—or think you’re in love with—says something about who you are,” Aurore said. “Obviously, Goffin was a complete plonker, but even if he wasn’t, Steph was Dominique’s secret weapon in the previous election.” She curled her arm around Solange’s neck. “How could someone as bright as Anne have fallen for the likes of Sybille?” She glanced at Solange. “I understand why Dominique wanted to dismiss my thoughts about this, but I have to ask myself the question. If I had witnessed this, if this had happened right under my nose, and if I had managed to talk some sense into her, would Anne be cheating on her husband right now?”

  “What-if questions about things that have already happened are pretty pointless,” Solange said. “But it seems to me that you feel guilty for leaving.”

  “Not guilty. My reasons for leaving were… incontournables.” She offered a smile. “You know that, but… Anne is now officially a liar. She’s lying to her husband. I know affairs happen all the time and they’re almost obligatory when you’re in French politics—”

  “That’s a load of bollocks. It’s just a convenient excuse for all the nerdy politicians who suddenly get a bit of power and use it to pick up women they previously never would’ve had a chance with.”

  “That’s a little harsh.”

  Solange scoffed. “I’m a lifetime member of the MLR. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. And, believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of such advances more than I care to remember. I speak from experience.”

  “But of course you never fell for the eroticism of power.”

  “I was too busy acquiring power for myself.” Solange mused. “If it were to get out that Rivière’s cheating on her husband, we could secure quite a few far-right voters.” She looked Aurore in the eye. “Are you sure her husband doesn’t know?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him, so I really couldn’t say. He did try to call me earlier today, but his call got lost between the many others.”

  “Is his a call you would want to return?” Solange tried.

  “I see what you’re trying to do. But I won’t do it,” Aurore said forcefully.

  “You’re right.” Still, Solange’s mind was whirring, trying to come up with other ways to get hold of this crucial piece of information. Because even though the French might not care that much about politicians having affairs, if a presidential candidate was sleeping with her female campaign manager behind her husband’s back, it would most certainly interest them.

  “The last thing I said to Anne before I left her office was that I wouldn’t be voting for her.” Aurore grinned.

  “The only truly private matter left in this day and age, and you’ve gone and given it away.” Solange pressed a kiss to Aurore’s cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay with the video being out there?”

  “That video’s been out there for thirty years. I’m not ashamed of the choices I’ve made because I’ve always believed in what I’ve done. I might not do what I did then anymore now, but I’m also not the same person I was. That doesn’t mean that the person I was then has any less value. Besides, the eagerness with which everyone has jumped on this piece of news says much more about the people who can’t get enough of it than it does about me.”

  “I so admire your endless cool.”

  “Yours isn’t too bad either… and Marc’s going to love this, of course. Sexualité Aujourd’hui will once again be saved.”

  “Will you talk about it on your show next week?” Solange knew about the fla
iling ratings of Sexualité Aujourd’hui.

  “I don’t know yet. I need to think about it.”

  “How about we sleep on it.” Solange suppressed a yawn. “Big day tomorrow.”

  Aurore drew her into her arms and nodded.

  Juliette

  Juliette was a little apprehensive about telling Nadia, but she had to. She pulled Phénix into her lap for moral support.

  “You’ll never guess who I had to have a meeting with today,” she said, a little sheepishly.

  “Save me the guesses and tell me.”

  “Claire and I—” she started.

  “Hold up.” Nadia narrowed her eyes. “Claire and you?”

  “Oh, yes.” It had felt so natural for Juliette to be on the road again with Claire, that she had failed to disclose that important detail. “We needed Claire to deal with this mess.”

  “I know the circumstances are not exactly ideal,” Nadia said, “but that’s really great to hear.”

  Juliette thought this a good moment to blurt it out—now that Nadia was smiling so much about her and Claire working together again. “We met with Sybille.”

  Nadia’s eyes grew wide.

  “She’s the one who leaked the video.” Juliette scratched Phénix’s belly and pretended to study something in his fur.

  “And?” Nadia asked matter-of-factly.

  “I don’t know how she did it, but Claire somehow sussed out, from that meeting, that Sybille is sleeping with Anne Rivière.”

  “Oh mon Dieu,” Nadia exclaimed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me in the least?”

  “Apparently, Sybille has been biding her time all these years to get back at me for… well, you know.”

  “That doesn’t really surprise me either.” Nadia got that look in her eye—it could mean one of two things. Juliette wasn’t sure yet which one.

  “She screwed us well and good.”

  “Again,” Nadia said. Her glance dropped to the dog. “Why don’t you put Phénix in the spare room.” The spare room had, over the years, become the dog’s room, but they stubbornly refused to call it that.

  “Why?” Juliette asked innocently.

  “I think you know why.”

  Nadia was right. Juliette knew why. And she now also knew how this insane day would end. She couldn’t possibly ask for a better conclusion.

  When Juliette walked back into the living room, Nadia was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest. Juliette found her gaze. She needed to find out if Nadia had changed her mind—and was gearing up for a proper row over Sybille—or if she was sitting there looking like a very severe headmistress because she was ready to dole out some delicious punishment.

  One glance was all it took.

  Juliette sat next to her.

  “No,” Nadia said. “I want you against the dining table. You know the position.”

  Juliette swallowed hard. Excitement revved up in the pit of her stomach. She did as she was told—swiftly—and planted her hands on the table top, her behind sticking out.

  Nadia was sitting quite a few metres away from where she stood. Much too far away for what Juliette had in mind.

  “What was it like seeing her again?” Nadia asked.

  “Who?” Juliette deliberately played dumb.

  “Your former assistant, the one you slept with… in our home.”

  “It was…” Juliette hadn’t expected the question. She also knew she wasn’t supposed to give an honest reply. She had to find the most fitting answer to take their game to the next level. “Strange,” she said, truthfully.

  “Did you feel a twinge of attraction when you saw her?” Nadia was merciless tonight. Maybe mentioning Sybille’s name had opened up some old wounds.

  “She did look rather good.” Juliette was back in character.

  “Describe her to me.” Nadia remained sitting. Perhaps she truly wanted to punish Juliette.

  Juliette had no trouble picturing Sybille. She’d always looked like a younger version of Nadia, which had always tripped her up.

  “She was wearing a grey—”

  “Not what she was wearing,” Nadia interrupted. “How she spoke to you and looked at you.”

  Even though their meeting had been brief, Sybille had managed to get under Juliette’s skin.

  Juliette glanced at her wife. She looked like she was enjoying this. Or did it still hurt? When Juliette thought about Nadia with Marie Dievart, for a split second, the memory could still cut her like a knife. In that brief moment before she could apply logic, when she was only able to feel, it still stung.

  Maybe it was the same for Nadia.

  “She looked at me in that very haughty way she has,” Juliette said. “Like she’s the queen of the bloody universe.”

  “Did that turn you on?” Nadia’s voice was unwavering. She should have become an interrogator instead of a hospital administrator, Juliette often thought. The way she could ask questions while hiding her emotions.

  Time to get fully back in character. Seeing Sybille hadn’t excited Juliette in the slightest. It had turned her stomach and made her feel jittery. Being the subject of a long-awaited revenge plot wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. And the way Sybille had addressed her as Jules had only made her skin crawl.

  “Maybe a little,” Juliette lied, because she knew it would garner maximum results later.

  Nadia finally got up. She strode towards Juliette. She stood next to her for a few long, silent seconds. Then she put a hand on Juliette’s behind and, ever so gently, stroked it.

  “Let’s see how much she has turned you on.” Nadia hiked up Juliette’s skirt.

  Juliette was fully aware that Nadia knew very well it wasn’t Sybille causing the current ache in Juliette’s clit. It was all Nadia. Her words. Her demeanour. The way she had chosen to play this out tonight.

  Nadia ran a finger between Juliette’s legs, over the fabric of her panties.

  “Looks like seeing Sybille has had quite the effect on you.” Nadia bent over placing her lips close to Juliette’s ear.

  Nadia’s breath rushed over Juliette’s skin as she spoke.

  Juliette nodded. Because she knew that was what she needed to do in this moment. This was how they’d gotten past the infidelity in their relationship years ago—and how they’d kept on exorcising it. Although, these days, it was really much more about the thrill of it all.

  Nadia pulled the crotch of her panties to the side and exposed Juliette’s pussy to the air.

  Juliette suppressed a moan.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Nadia’s voice was low, almost gravelly. “Hm?”

  This wasn’t a rhetorical question. Juliette needed to answer. There was only one possible reply.

  “Spank me,” Juliette said on a sigh.

  “I could do that.” Nadia just held her panties to the side, but didn’t do anything else. “But I think you’d like that too much.” While her one hand kept Juliette’s panties in place, her other drew a long line all the way from her neck, along Juliette’s spine, over her exposed behind, to her throbbing pussy lips.

  “I think I’ll do something else instead.” Nadia waited a beat, then thrust what felt like two fingers high inside Juliette.

  Juliette’s knees buckled and she held on to the edge of the table for dear life. Nadia fucked her deeply but slowly. All the thoughts of the day—of the campaign and Sybille and working with Claire again—disappeared from her conscious mind. Juliette surrendered to her subconscious, to her body, and to her wife.

  Nadia kept thrusting inside her, while she bent her body over Juliette’s a little more. Her teeth found Juliette’s earlobe and bit down gently but determinedly.

  “Oh Christ,” Juliette muttered.

  Her existence was reduced to just the sensation of Nadia’s teeth on her ear and her fingers inside her. And it was enough. It would always be enough. Because, over the years, they may have lost each other from time to time, but they had always found each other again. This was how they did
it. This was how they came together again after things had been rough between them. Always this.

  When stars burst into fireworks on the back of Juliette’s eyelids, she caught glimpses of Nadia’s gorgeous face in between the explosions. Images of the way she would glance at her, full of love and understanding. And that other way she had as well, that gaze full of lust and domination.

  Juliette’s elbows landed on the table, as her climax tore through her. Nadia held her for a long while after, until Juliette caught her breath, and could speak again, although she didn’t think her voice would be required for the rest of the night.

  Steph

  Steph had tossed and turned all night, rather incredulous at how peacefully Dominique snoozed beside her. Every time she jerked awake, she racked her mind frantically for ways in which Dominique could best trounce Rivière in the debate. She was pretty sure she herself would come up in the debate Sunday evening, and she wanted to arm Dominique with extra ammunition to defend herself with. Even though, in her heart of hearts, she knew Dominique wouldn’t use it.

  Maybe she’d made a mistake wanting to leak their wedding date. But it was done—and if she really thought about it, she knew it was a good thing. Not only because they’d finally set a date, but because it had forced the Rivière campaign to reveal their true nature. It had forced Sybille to the forefront and someone like her should never be allowed to win. In her gut, Steph was convinced of this. And she believed in Dominique. Still, a little nugget—an offhand remark—that Dominque could throw at Rivière tonight would be welcome. It had to be something professional. It couldn’t pertain to Rivière’s private life whatsoever.

  In the depths of the night, when Steph had finally given up trying to sleep, she’d reached for her phone and had scrolled through the highlights of Anne Rivière’s rise through the Socialist ranks.

  She’d had a faultless journey. She had peaked at all the right times and taken the reins of the party from Goffin after he had lost the previous election. She had been the right woman at the right time, which was never a coincidence.