La Suite (11 page)

“Next one?
Right now? I don’t think that’s possible!” Gaëlle exclaimed,
although she obediently raised her hips to accommodate the
pillow.

“You’ll see.”
Madeleine said, with a little smile.

“Are you…Will
you…take part in this one, too? Gaëlle asked Madeleine.

“Would you like
me to?” Madeleine asked.

“I’d love to do
something for you while I’m having so much pleasure,” Gaëlle
confessed.

“What would you
like to do?” Madeleine asked.

“Will you let
me caress you?”

“I suspect
you’ll be too busy coming yourself to do anything for me,”
Madeleine said. “But thank you for the offer.”

Gaëlle thought
for a moment. She looked up at Madeleine and said, “It can be done.
Will you take your skirt and top off for me?”

Madeleine
seemed happy to unfasten her skirt, fold it and set it to one side,
then she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. She unclipped her
bra, freeing plump breasts. Gaëlle was glad she had a chance to
look at the older woman’s body. Madeleine’s skin was not as toned
as her own, but the body Gaëlle was examining was well-maintained,
that was clear. A closer look also revealed a gold ring through
Madeleine’s left nipple.

“I may as well
get rid of these, too,” Madeleine said, pulling her white knickers
off. Her pubic hair had been reduced to a narrow vertical strip.
The nipple ring and depilated labia, on a woman a decade older than
herself, brought it home to Gaëlle that sex was absolutely not an
age-restricted interest. She realized with an electric burst of joy
that she had plenty of time to engage in some more erotic
exploration,

“You look
lovely, Madeleine. Can you turn the chair round, so its back is
nearer to me?” Gaëlle asked. “Good. Now stand between me and it,
with your legs apart.”

When Madeleine
was in position, Gaëlle reached out with her right arm between
Madeleine’s thighs and took a firm grip on the chair back. “This
wouldn’t work if you were my height,” Gaëlle commented to
Madeleine, who hardly needed to bend her knees to bring her sex
into contact with Gaëlle’s forearm. “You can ride my arm and I
won’t have to do a thing.”

Madeleine
nodded to Jo, who went back to work inside Gaëlle. To her
astonishment, her body had no difficulty in responding. Madeleine’s
sex was sopping wet, and squelched to and fro on Gaëlle’s arm. The
older woman’s grunts of pleasure grew in intensity and frequency,
until at length she trembled and came. She leaned over Gaëlle,
offering her right nipple again to be suckled. Gaëlle was happy to
oblige. Jo carried on, pausing every time that Gaëlle felt she was
close. She accepted the stages of the build-up this time, knowing
that they would intensify the eventual earthquake when she
came.

“Now. Now. Oh,
please, Now!” Gaëlle cried out at last. She convulsed in a huge
orgasm, which sent multiple waves of pleasure from the tips of her
toes to the skin of her scalp. It was as powerful as the first, and
as protracted, but this time it was pure delight, and when it
subsided, Gaëlle sat up with a new sparkle in her eyes.

“Whoa! That was
unbelievably good! Thank you, both of you!”

“Your husband
shared our philosophy, which says that you get what you need when
you need it, Gaëlle,” Madeleine assured her, as both women were
putting their clothes back on. “Come back any time you want, we’ll
always make a space for you. We’ve been waiting for you for almost
a year. Jérôme was sure you’d find us.”

“He knew me
only too well,” Gaëlle said, able now to smile about it. “Can I
make a regular booking with you? I’d like to come once a week…Only
for a massage, though! I don’t think that a session like this every
seven days would be helpful for me. I’d be no good for anything
else!”

“Same time next
week, then,” Jo said. “You can have the slot after Oelipalo
again.”

“Who?”

“Oelipalo, the
Tongan, the rugby player. After I’ve dealt with him, it will be
good to massage someone a little less muscley,” Jo explained. “So
you will be just fine.”

Madeleine and
Jo left Gaëlle to compose herself for several minutes, after which
she dressed herself and prepared to go home. She paid, a
ridiculously small sum it seemed to her for what she had received,
but she sensed that to offer more would be seen as an insult. In
her renewed state of mind and body, she couldn’t face sharing a bus
with dozens of strangers, so she used her mobile phone to call a
taxi to collect her.

From Gaëlle’s
Journal

In the taxi
coming home, I nearly dozed off, just as Jérôme used to! It’s
wonderful to realize that he had anticipated I’d need to go and see
Jo and Madeleine. Typical of him, too, that he left Jo’s phone
number somewhere I’d find it, but only if I made the effort to
look. I’m glad they didn’t tell me until afterwards, though.
Otherwise, I’d have been thinking of him all through the massage.
I’m sure I’ll go again; the orgasms were out of this world. I
thought I’d experienced the biggest ones possible with Jérôme, but
it seems not. I still have things to learn about my body!

PS I must
remember to ask next time what they used to do for Jérôme!

PPS I was
nearly tempted into shaving my pubic hair in the shower when I got
home. Seeing Madeleine reminded me of how I used to look, bare and
exposed. It was lovely to feel her bare labia sliding on my arm,
too, my first real sex in over a year. She seemed to enjoy it very
much. It made me conscious that I was the one who used to look and
feel like that and I miss it. I wonder if it would shock the gang
if I went bare again.

Chapter
Fourteen

Gaëlle settled
herself on the sofa, her usual place for reflection. In re-reading
the start of her life with Jérôme, she’d found an expression that
she liked. She’d written back then that she intended to be an
erotic explorer
. What had happened with Jo and Madeleine had
convinced her she was now ready to resume that rôle. She paused for
a moment.

Where to begin?
Although she’d started to recount her erotic experiences to Gabi,
she didn’t want to complicate matters by discussing future sexual
possibilities with her. Gabi might take it as an invitation, and
Gaëlle wasn’t at that point, not yet, anyway. She needed a more
objective, and possibly a more mature listener. The obvious
candidates were the other members of the gang. But which one? She
couldn’t see herself explaining her thoughts and intentions to the
group en masse.

She eliminated
Alice without further consideration. Alice was quite prudish in her
attitudes to sex. When the gang had been out to dinner together,
Gaëlle had noticed Alice’s pursed lips when Mercedes told one of
her more off-colour jokes. Gaëlle was very fond of Alice, but as a
confidante on sexual matters, she was a non-starter.

Just because
Mercedes had her bras made to measure, was it fair for Gaëlle to
assume that Mercedes had a special interest in sex? Or just that
she was fussy? It was Mercedes who’d been dragooned into helping
Jérôme, when he’d had the special bra made for Gaëlle. Mercedes had
even tried the bra on. But it was Jérôme who’d told Gaëlle about
that, not Mercedes, who’d never said a word. She was fun, but was
she the right person for a serious discussion that could well drift
into unconventional sexual areas? Probably not, Gaëlle
concluded.

How about
Béatrice, then, the group’s Swiss Miss? Determinedly climbing the
corporate ladder at the lawyers’ where she worked, Béatrice was
seven years younger than Gaëlle and had never been married. Gaëlle
had seen her with a succession of attractive men, but she could all
too easily imagine Béatrice, the morning after, conscientiously
filing scores for endurance, content and style in her diary. Would
Béatrice understand Gaëlle’s needs? Possibly, but far from
definitely.

Leila was more
of a possibility. She was eminently sensible as well as intelligent
and understanding. However, the amount of time and effort she had
to put into dealing with her Alzheimer-affected mother meant that
Gaëlle didn’t think it would be fair to burden her with the
intimate details of another complicated life.

That left Maya,
a frequent, but not obsessive visitor to the gym where the gang
usually met. Gaëlle sat back, deep in thought. Maya, so proud of
both her Greek and Norse descent. Her black, flashing eyes,
aquiline nose and golden-brown skin were pure Mediterranean, but
her height, at half a head taller than Gaëlle, had to be a legacy
of the Viking ancestors of her mother. She had a remarkable body,
bearing in mind she’d had her twin girls at the age of thirty. A
good mother, also, that much was evident from seeing her with them.
Professionally, Gaëlle would have wagered there was no nonsense in
the Collège where Maya occupied the Directrice’s office. An
intelligent woman, unafraid to speak her mind. Gaëlle had a lot of
respect for Maya.

Sexy? Oh, yes,
Gaëlle thought, thinking of the trim silhouette and neat breasts
she had seen in the showers at the gym. She closed her eyes. Jérôme
would have made a great story out of Maya’s genealogy, she was
sure. Could she do the same? It would be fun to try. Gaëlle knew
that the background to Maya’s parentage was quite simple. Her
mother, a young Norwegian woman who had come to study in Toulouse,
met, fell in love with and married a handsome young Greek, who was
there for the same purpose. The result had been Maya. Gaëlle shook
her head. She wanted something more exotic than that, romantic
though it was.

There was
something about Maya’s profile that made Gaëlle think of medieval
Byzantine icons. Of course, she thought, that’s where it would all
start, with the Varangian guards. The story immediately came to
life. One of the legendary Norse guards at the court of Byzantium
wooed a pretty Greek serving maid. After rescuing her from untold
perils—Gaëlle decided she didn’t have time for those details at the
moment—he married her, to produce a lovely daughter called
Maya.

Growing up in
the heady atmosphere of what had been Constantinople and would
become Istanbul, Maya caught the eye of a pirate. When Maya had to
accompany an elderly maiden aunt on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the
corsair seized his chance. The images scrolled across the inside of
Gaëlle’s eyelids. A swift galley stalking the rolling tub of a
cargo ship carrying Maya, and a sudden raid whisking her away to
Algiers. But clever Maya turned the tables on her captor. She’d
fallen in love with the pirate at first sight, when their eyes met
in the great covered market of Byzantium, and now, she took
advantage of her abduction to seduce him.

Gaëlle could
picture Maya, naked but for a floating gauzy skirt slung low on her
hips, completely absorbed in her performance as she danced,
bewitching her chosen man. Gaëlle could almost hear the Arabic
music as Maya twirled, her bare breasts glistening with
perspiration, the golden tassels, which adorned her nipples
swaying, as she entranced her defenceless Barbary pirate.

Gaëlle opened
her eyes again, happy with her version of events. Was that image
ever in Maya’s mind? It would be interesting to know. Gaëlle had
met Maya’s husband Eric, a primary school teacher, and had liked
him. No pirate chief, he’d seemed very sensible and down to earth,
possibly not the sort of man to be happy that his wife was
listening to crazy erotic experiences. On the other hand, Gaëlle
reflected, how evident to others had Jérôme’s fascination with sex
been? And her own?

So, Gaëlle
concluded, it would be Maya’s friendship that she would be putting
to the test. The next challenge would be finding an occasion for
this crucial one-to-one. She was hoping to get Maya on her own. She
didn’t want to be asking her in front of the others, not only
because they might feel left out, but also because of the subject
matter she needed to raise. Also, there was a possibility that Maya
might turn her down. She was frantically busy, as usual at the
start of each new school year.

Before she
could find an opening to start the conversation, circumstances
overtook Gaëlle. She was about to get into her car after a gym
session, when she heard a voice calling to her from the other side
of the car park. Gaëlle turned, to see Maya trotting towards
her.

“What’s the
problem?” Gaëlle asked.

“Pig of a car
won’t start. I told Eric I thought something wasn’t right yesterday
and he said he’d look at it. But I bet that looking is all he’s
done!”

“Problem
solved. I’ll take you home,” Gaëlle reassured her. “Then I’ll bring
Eric back to your car and he can deal with it.”

“Gaëlle, did I
ever tell you you’re an angel?” Maya exclaimed, as she fastened her
seat belt.

Gaëlle made her
way through the rush hour traffic, half her mind on how to broach
the subject she needed to discuss. Eventually, she just had to be
blunt about it. “Maya,” she started. “I need to spend some time
talking with someone I can trust not to judge me. Will you listen
to me while I tell you all sorts of stuff that you may find
weird?”

“Weird stuff.
Don’t tell me, let me guess…I know! You’ve been persuaded to join
some peculiar religious cult,” Maya said. “It’s either that, or
it’s sex. Which is it?”

“The second,”
Gaëlle admitted.

“And just why
am I not surprised? Bearing in mind what I know of you, my dear,”
Maya smiled. “And mind that bus.” Gaëlle, rather surprised, had to
brake hard. She was really too close.

“And why was it
so easy to work out that sex came into it?” she asked.

“Surely you
didn’t seriously think that your sex life with Jérôme went
unnoticed? Just to see the pair of you together should have
required an adult certificate, sometimes.”