La Suite (15 page)

“Sensible
tights! Boo! Hiss!” Gaëlle exclaimed. “Go on, Maya, be a devil.
Take them off for me. Humour your peculiar friend, just this
once.”

“I know your
onces,” Maya retorted, marching back into the bedroom. When she
emerged this time, her legs were bare, and Gaëlle applauded.

“Much nicer!
Now do me a proper twirl, so I can get an idea of what people may
have seen of me.”

“Listen, my
dear Gaëlle,” Maya pronounced, using her solemn voice. “I know I’m
only a little bit taller than you, but this dress is barely
covering my dignity as it is! If I do any twirling, you’ll be able
to see my navel, let alone my knickers!”

“How can I
refuse such an enticing offer?” Gaëlle declared, as if Maya had
proposed it herself. “Well? Go on, prove it!” Maya performed a full
rotation and the dress swirled round her, wrapping itself around
her body and rising up almost to the top of her thighs.

“Lovely,”
Gaëlle announced. “Now do me a spin.” Caught up in Gaëlle’s
enthusiasm, Maya raised her arms, as if she were a ballet dancer.
She did a series of pirouettes without stopping. The dress floated
out and up, revealing black thong underwear.

“Oh, even
lovelier!” Gaëlle cried out. “I hope I looked as sexy as you do!”
Maya stopped in mid rotation and collapsed. The dress continued to
swirl, gathering itself round Maya’s body, so Gaëlle was treated to
the view of the tight, black triangle of Maya’s thong as her friend
sprawled on the sofa. Gaëlle’s heart thumped harder.

“I’m dizzy,”
Maya said. “I think you had it easy in the park. You had the breeze
to do the job for you!”

Gaëlle was
almost unable to speak for laughter. She kneeled down and hugged
Maya. “Thank you for spoiling me,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting
the thong! Do your students know?”

“They’d better
not! My credibility would fly out of the window. I have to be so
serious most of the time at work, that I need to allow myself a
little frivolity to satisfy my inner imp. So, sometimes I wear a
thong, or some fancy tights, just to remind myself that I am a
woman. Usually, nobody gets to see, so consider yourself
privileged.”

“Oh, I do!”

“Well?” Maya
went on. “Are you happy with how you think you looked?”

“Oh, yes I am!
And I hope I showed at least as much as you just did! Such
tantalizing glimpses of your bare bottom. Really sexy!”

“And now I’m
going to change back into decent clothes and go home,” Maya
declared and went back into the bedroom. She disappeared into the
bathroom when she was dressed, so Gaëlle took advantage to grab the
dress and stuff it into Maya’s briefcase.

She went to the
phone and whispered, “I’m putting the dress she was wearing just
now into her school bag. I think you might enjoy seeing it on her.”
Gaëlle barely had time to fasten the briefcase again before Maya
came back into the sitting room.

“I’d better
disconnect Eric,” Gaëlle said, switching off the speaker.

“I was thinking
of doing some admin tonight,” Maya went on. “But I suspect I have a
hot and bothered husband waiting for me to get home, thanks to
you.”

“Never mind.
I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, really.”

“Perhaps. Do we
try again next week? Same time?” Maya asked.

“Please,”
Gaëlle said. “You’re being very helpful, and there’s a lot more to
come.”

“I’ll be there,
but don’t expect a performance like tonight,” Maya informed her as
she left.

“I don’t expect
anything, dear Maya,” Gaëlle whispered as she closed the door.
“That way, everything that happens is a delight.” She cleared up,
but her mind was still buzzing, thinking of how Maya had looked,
spinning round with her bare bottom on display. Gaëlle’s insides
fluttered. She paused on her way into the kitchen, and glanced at
the empty bottle she was carrying. It reminded her of an occasion
very early in her erotic exploration, and that gave her an
idea…

Chapter
Nineteen

When their
holiday in Argelès came to an end, Gaëlle and Jérôme allowed
themselves two days to drive up to the port of Calais, where they
would take the ferry back to England and work. First, though, they
had to plough their way through the heavy traffic that marked the
late August days when France returned from holiday. Jérôme had
booked them in at a small country hotel near Montluçon for the
night.

“
It’s
lovely,” Gaëlle exclaimed as they arrived. The front of the little
stone building was covered in a Virginia creeper whose bright red
leaves glowed in the early afternoon sun.

“
They only
have three guest rooms,” Jérôme told her. “I was told about this
place by someone I met on a train, back in May, so when I knew we’d
be passing this way, I rang and reserved as early as I could. The
only thing is that there’s no choice for the evening meal. You get
what there is. But I’m told the food is always very good.”

They parked the
car and walked across to the entrance, where a young girl stood
looking at them. She was wearing a black skirt and white blouse and
doing her best to look grown-up, although she was aged perhaps
twelve.

“
Hello,”
Gaëlle said. “Are you the receptionist?”

“
Yes, I am.
My name is Élodie. May I show you to your room?”

Gaëlle was
amused by the confident reply, but, trying not to smile, she
allowed the girl to lead the way inside, where she signed them in
and escorted them to their room. It had beams and traditional
shutters, as well as what looked like a very comfortable bed. They
expressed their approval. While Jérôme had his shower, Gaëlle went
to have a look at the rest of the hotel. She had noticed from their
bedroom window that behind the building there was a terrace set
with tables. It overhung a little valley, at the bottom of which a
small river chuckled its way over stones and a modest waterfall. It
was quite charming. She wandered back, heading upstairs to shower
and change, but first she thought she’d inquire whether they could
have dinner in the open air. At reception, she followed the
instructions and rang the bell. Élodie reappeared and Gaëlle asked
her question.

“
I’ll check
with mam…with madame la patronne,” Élodie said, still doing her
best to be very formal. Gaëlle thought she’d been going to say
maman, sure that the boss must be, in fact, the girl’s mother.
Élodie disappeared into the back offices and re-emerged a minute
later.

“
Yes, dinner
will be served on the terrace. There will be a platter of cured
meats, then trout with almonds, followed by cheese. You are our
only guests tonight, so the patronne says she hopes you don’t mind
if we all eat together?”

“
Not at all.
That will be lovely,” Gaëlle said. She went back up to the room and
found Jérôme with a towel round his waist and about to get
dressed.

“
Not so
fast, young man,” Gaëlle said as she whipped the towel away and
made a grab for him.

“
Wasn’t
somebody supposed to be worn out after so long on the road?” Jérôme
asked, as Gaëlle led him, keeping a firm grasp on his growing
erection, to the bed.

“
I recover
quickly,” Gaëlle informed him. “And I think you deserve a reward
for doing most of the driving.” She slipped her knickers off and,
not bothering to remove her light cotton dress, straddled Jérôme.
They made slow, gentle love, and when Jérôme grunted and flooded
Gaëlle, she leaned over, kissed him on the lips, hopped off him and
shot into the shower before his sperm could dribble out of her and
onto the tiled floor. Ten minutes later, she emerged, naked, pink
and glowing. Jérôme reached out for her, but she skipped out of his
reach.

“
Why do you
think we had our fun before I had my shower?” she asked. “So I
didn’t have to do it all over again!”

Jérôme grinned,
lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. “Ever the practical
woman,” he said. “I’m not sure I could give you an adequate
performance right now anyway. You may have recovered, but I’m
shattered. Driving in a high-speed traffic jam is exhausting.”

Gaëlle left him
to doze and went back out. At the side of the hotel, she found a
long flight of stone steps, which led her down to the river, where
she sat in quiet meditation for some time. When the sun left her
side of the valley in the shade, she made her way back to the
hotel. She was halfway up the stairs to the room when a voice
behind her said, “I hope everything is all right?”

Gaëlle turned.
The person who had spoken had to be Élodie’s mother, a dark, slim
woman in her early thirties. Gaëlle had assumed that the patronne
of a guesthouse out in the backwoods would be an earth-mother type,
but the woman at the foot of the stairs could have stepped out from
behind the reception desk of any top Paris hotel. Her crisp white
blouse and straight black skirt echoed her daughter’s, and Gaëlle
felt slightly under-dressed in her tee-shirt, flip-flops and
shorts.

“
Yes, thank
you,” she said, and smiled. “Mademoiselle Élodie is very welcoming
and most efficient.”

The woman
returned the smile. “I’m glad you approve,” she said. “In a hotel
like this we all have to contribute. We only took it over this year
and we’re still learning.”

“
It’s
delightful,” Gaëlle said. “We’re happy to be your only guests, but
I hope you’ve had a good season?”

“
Oh, yes.
This evening will be a rest cure for us. We haven’t had an empty
bed since the middle of June. I hope you don’t mind if we all eat
together?”

“
As I said
to Élodie, it’s fine. I’ll leave you in peace to carry on.” Gaëlle
went up to the room and stretched out on the bed beside Jérôme, who
was still half-asleep. Soon Gaëlle drifted off, too.

Delicious
smells wafting upstairs woke them some time later. The sun was
still shining, making patterns on the wall opposite the window.
Having seen how smart the patronne was, Gaëlle felt she should make
a little effort with her clothes. Jérôme, already dressed, lay back
on the bed, his hands behind his head and watched her getting
dressed.

“
I do like
those,” he said, looking at the broderie anglaise that decorated
her white knickers.

“
Just as
well,” Gaëlle commented. “I only have one other clean pair and
they’re black. I can’t wear black under this.”

“
This” was a
white sundress, strapless and very simple. The contrast between the
white of the dress and her honey-coloured shoulders pleased Gaëlle.
She did a twirl for Jérôme, whose smile demonstrated that he
approved.

“
Nice legs,
too,” he said. “Shall we go down?”

Élodie met them
in the entrance hall. She had changed into a dress. She led them
out onto the terrace and brought them apéritifs. They sat in the
evening sunshine and relaxed. Then Élodie emerged again,
accompanied by her mother and a young man.

“
We won’t
stand on ceremony,” the patronne said. “You’ve already met Élodie,
who is my daughter.”

“
We’d
guessed,” Jérôme said. “You look very much alike.”

“
My name is
Sidonie and this is Raoul, who caught the fish we’re going to
eat.”

Sidonie was
wearing a multi-coloured cotton dress, which set off her dark
colouring. Raoul was tall and thin. The pallor of his complexion
was in marked contrast to the tan of Sidonie. She noticed Gaëlle’s
puzzled expression.

“
You’d
better explain,” she said to Raoul. “You look like an ice cream,
compared with me.”

“
I just got
out of jail,” Raoul said. Seeing the raised eyebrows that greeted
this revelation, he explained, “I got arrested in the big
demonstration in Paris. I’m only a smallholder, not a real farmer,
but I had to be there. We couldn’t get the local politicians to do
anything about the appalling state of agriculture, so we took
direct action, and three of us from around here got eight months
inside.”

“
I remember
reading about it,” Gaëlle said.

“
They wanted
to make an example of us. But it’s okay. We made our point and I’m
out now.”

Sidonie leaned
across and kissed him. “Come on, jailbird,” she said. “Help me
bring the food.” They came out a few minutes later with a huge
salver of charcuterie and a big peasant loaf. Élodie brought out a
pitcher of red wine.

“
It’s all
local produce,” Raoul said. “The only part of the meal this evening
that won’t be from within an hour’s drive will be the wine to go
with the trout. For that, nothing compares with an Alsace
Riesling.”

“
Home away
from home,” Gaëlle exclaimed. “I’m from Strasbourg.”

“
Serendipity,” Sidonie commented. “It was meant to be, that you
are our last guests of the season.”

They ate and
drank. As the sun went down, Raoul lit oil lamps, which gave a soft
light over the terrace. By ten o’clock, Élodie was drooping. She
sat up with a jerk, yawned and stretched.

“
Bedtime,”
Sidonie said. They kissed Élodie goodnight and she drifted away,
already half asleep. The adults sat for a while, as the day’s heat
dissipated and the cicadas filled the night with their mating
song.

“
This is a
lovely end to our holiday,” Jérôme said.

“
Where did
you stay?” Raoul asked.

“
Argelès.”

“
That
explains the absence of tan lines on your shoulders, then,” Sidonie
commented.

“
Actually,”
Gaëlle said, “one of the reasons we chose that piece of coast was
to avoid tan lines altogether.”

“
You went
naturist?” Sidonie said. “I like to sunbathe topless, but the idea
of turning up on a beach and having people staring at my
chalk-white bottom is quite intimidating.”