La Suite Page 4

  From Gaëlle’s new journal

  I never thought I’d be adding to these scribblings, but it seems the logical thing to do. When I started to write my journal, just after I’d met Jérôme, I promised myself I would put down faithfully every erotic experience. It would be dishonest not to carry on with it now. So…

  Gabi first. She confuses me. Sometimes I feel that she is itching to seduce me, or to be seduced by me. Other times she puts me on such a pedestal that I could only disappoint her if something did happen.

  She paused, tempted to scrub out what she had just written. Then she shook her head, told herself to let it stand, as a reminder to be totally honest, and went on.

  I must be as truthful with myself as I used to be. Gabi is a very sensual woman. If she wants to have sex with me, then my body has let me know that I’d like it, too. When she lifted my dress this evening, I could feel how warm and damp it made me. If she’d touched my knickers she’d have known, and just for that moment, I hoped that she would. However, she is a lot younger than me…

  The “girls’ night out” was fun. It reminded me of the evenings with what Leila calls the “gang of six”, but with an added sexual tension. With them, nobody has ever suggested that one of us should take her knickers off! Nor, when we have dinner together, has anyone ever sat topless at the table. Our relationship wouldn’t allow for it.

  Now I come to think of it, though, perhaps they do that sort of thing in other circumstances. It’s an interesting possibility. Why has it never occurred to me before, I wonder? Maybe because, when we met, I was the only one who was really fit? I’ve never really considered them as sexual women. Very unfair of me. It would be interesting to give that some more consideration, when I have a moment.

  Gaëlle paused again. She got up and went to get a red pen. She drew a red circle round the paragraph she had just written, so she wouldn’t forget, then changed pens and went on.

  Nathalie is also quite attractive physically, but, like Gabi, is much younger than me. Perhaps Gabi is right, and I’m the older sister for them, and big sisters don’t think in a sexual way about their siblings…at least that’s how I see it. It won’t prevent me from enjoying how pretty and sexy they are to look at, though.

  Barbara seems to be the most important player in promoting the erotic aspect within the dining group. She isn’t especially attractive, but is clearly trying very hard to overcome that. I don’t find enhanced boobs attractive, certainly not when they are as artificial as hers are.

  As usual, I’ve been delaying putting down on paper the aspect of the evening that made the most impact. Jérôme would have been in hysterics. I can just hear him saying…”And?…And?” So…

  I found Barbara’s swollen nipples…fascinating, I think is the word. To see them so distended gave me a funny feeling in my belly, reminding me of some of the more extreme experiences of my sexual life. It wasn’t pretty, but it was definitely erotic.

  Honesty, Gaëlle!

  I wonder how I would look with my nipples swollen like that. Does it make them more sensitive? I only have a vague memory of how it felt with Vivienne and, of course, I never got to see myself on that occasion. I know I’m not built like Barbara, but at this moment, if I had the equipment and the chance, I think I would try it. The butterflies in my belly remind me of how I used to feel when I was contemplating committing myself to one of the more demanding experiences of my erotic life. It’s a curious mixture of nerves, anticipation, fear and sexual excitement, and it’s a sensation that I love, have missed and am now—I think—ready to rediscover.

  There, it’s in front of me in black and white. Tomorrow I’ll read this again and see how I react.

  She put the journal and pen on her bedside table and turned over. She tucked her hand under her body and brought herself to a quick climax before drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The first thing she saw on opening her eyes the next morning was the journal. She read again her entry from the night before. She reflected on what she had written as she showered, dressed and had breakfast. As she was putting on her eye makeup and lip-gloss to go shopping, she made her decision. She looked her reflection straight in the eyes.

  “Well, Gaëlle,” she said, “Admit it. Say it out loud. If you get the opportunity to try the pump, you’ll do it.” Hearing herself make the statement and watching her lips form the words gave her a buzz, and she knew from past experience that she had just made a commitment to herself that she would honour.

  By the time Gaëlle got back from town, Gabi had phoned her from Belgium and left a message on her answering machine . “Hello, Gaëlle. It’s Gabi. I’m sorry I couldn’t come swimming with you the other night. Nath tells me you enjoyed yourself, and I hope that’s true. I’m green with jealousy that the others have seen you stripped off and I haven’t! Unfair! I won’t be able to visit you this coming week. Work here is frenetic at the moment. I’ll give you a call when I can, just so you don’t think I’ve forgotten you. Kisses. Bye.”

  Gaëlle put in more hours of work than usual that week, to fill the gap. She’d grown used to sharing tea and thoughts with Gabi. The next message sounded weary.

  “Oh, Gaëlle, I’m so sorry. I’m stuck here for another week at least. I can’t make it to the next girls’ night out either. Shit! I miss our little chats. I must go. Sorry again. Kisses.”

  That Saturday afternoon, Gaëlle had promised to help out at a charity event. She felt it was important to contribute where she could to raising funds for cancer research in memory of Jérôme. She was concentrating on counting banknotes while the public swirled about her, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Hello. Gaëlle. What a surprise.”

  She turned and saw Odile, whom she had last seen at Barbara’s house. They exchanged greetings. “What brings you here?” Odile asked. “Most of us give our time because we’ve had direct experience of the pains of losing someone to cancer. In my case, because I lost my husband two years ago, suddenly.”

  Gaëlle gulped. “Me too,” she managed to say. “Last year. Jérôme, my husband.”

  Odile gave her a hug. “They say it gets easier, but I still miss Paul a lot. It’s harder when you loved them, isn’t it?” Gaëlle couldn’t speak. Just when she thought she was back in control, moments like this reminded her of her fragile state.

  “Look, finish off your admin, and come with me for coffee and cakes,” Odile suggested.

  “Give me ten minutes and I’m with you.”

  It was more like twenty minutes by the time Gaëlle had completed her task, but Odile waited patiently, then led her out into the street and to a pâtisserie.

  “Goodness, it’s nice to have a little peace and quiet,” Odile said when they’d found a table, sat down and ordered.

  “I hadn’t realised you and I were in a similar situation,” Gaëlle said. “I only just started meeting new people very recently, thanks to Gabi.”

  “It takes time, I know. There was a period of about eighteen months when I didn’t know what to do with myself after I lost Paul. I imagine you recognise that?”

  “Oh, yes. Until I bumped into Gabi, I was mostly feeling very sorry for myself.”

  Odile smiled, almost to herself. “Different people react in different ways. I tried to deal with it by going wild.”

  “Wild? What do you mean?” Gaëlle asked. “You’ll have to explain that for me.”

  Odile took a deep breath. “I was a deeply conventional woman, both by nature and upbringing. Paul and I fell in love at sixteen, married at eighteen, and I was thoroughly happy being a good wife and mother. I brought up three children who are now young adults, and I never looked at another man. I didn’t need to, I had Paul. We were so looking forward to growing old together and enjoying each other’s company. So when he was snatched away from me, I was very angry. It had never been an effort to be faithful to Paul, but suddenly, I wanted to know how a wanton woman felt, to take revenge on my body for having b
een satisfied with one man for so long. I suppose I also wanted to affirm to myself that I was a desirable woman. So, over that year and a half, I went hunting for sex.”

  “Oh,” Gaëlle said.

  “It dulled the pain, I suppose, like a drug. But although there was a lot of variety, in the end they were all the same. Black men, brown men, white men, young, old, in between. In the end I realised that a hard dick may be good to find, but it always comes attached to a man with his own agenda. Some of them were happy to enjoy the sex for its own sake, but after a while, I could sense some of them working out how they could take advantage of this woman who craved cock. Some wanted to move in with me, some wanted to borrow money, some wanted me to change to fit their fantasies. All I wanted was to be fucked until I was numb.” Odile paused, aware that she had raised her voice a little. She giggled and looked round to see if anyone had heard her declaration. Fortunately, there was enough chatter going on at other tables to cover her words. “Sorry, that’s a bit vehement, isn’t it?” she said.

  “I think I understand,” Gaëlle said.

  “I thought you might. Look, next week, I’m house sitting for Barbara. Her mother lives in one wing of the house and she needs someone on call. Will you come round for a swim and a chat? I’m sure we have a lot in common. I can finish telling you about that period of my life as well, if you’d like. Once Françoise, Barbara’s mother, goes to bed, my evenings are rather long sometimes, and I’d welcome some company. Give me a couple of days to set up a routine, and I’ll call you.”

  “My evenings are not too full either, at present,” Gaëlle told her. “Call me and I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Eight

  It was almost a week before Odile called. Gaëlle agreed to go round the same evening.

  “I’ve made us a little supper,” Odile said as she arrived. “I thought we could swim later.”

  “That’s fine by me.”

  They went into a large kitchen where food was on the table. They ate, almost without talking, then Odile led Gaëlle through into a sitting room. Over the next hour, they told one another about their respective husbands. Knowing that Odile had suffered in a similar way made it easier for Gaëlle to talk intimately about Jérôme, and it appeared that the same was true when Odile told her about Paul.

  “Your sex life didn’t have the complications created by children,” Odile commented. “You can’t imagine how easy it is to be caught in situations where a quick explanation needs to be created on the spot!”

  “There have to be some compensations for being childless,” Gaëlle agreed, hiding a grimace. “What sort of thing do you mean?”

  “Well, for example, have you ever had an orgasm on the corner of a washing machine during the spin cycle?” Odile enquired.

  “Of course,” Gaëlle said. “I imagine that we all have, at some time.”

  Odile laughed. “I suppose so. Well, one day when Cécile was maybe three, I was sorting the washing. I remember there was a white wash finishing, about to spin. I had almost enough for a dark load, so I looked at the jeans I was wearing and decided they could go in, too. So, I was just in my knickers and as I reached across the machine to get the basket, the corner of the machine was just at the right height, if you know what I mean?” Odile looked up. Gaëlle nodded.

  “I was just getting into it, when suddenly I heard a voice behind me. It was Paul, back to collect some tools for work. He said I think those knickers need to go in the wash. He whipped them off me, and took me from behind, both of us jammed up against the corner of the vibrating washing machine. It was lovely, until a little voice said Daddy, why are you pushing Mummy into the washer? Cécile had decided that she’d played long enough on her own and had come looking for me. I was too deep into the fucking to think of a reasonable response, but Paul said, quick as a flash, ‘The washing machine needed to be pushed back against the wall. I’m helping Mummy to do it, because it’s heavy.’ Cécile said Afterwards, will you come and play with me? and wandered off, leaving us to finish as best we could.”

  “It must have been awkward,” Gaëlle said. “I can see that.”

  “The funny thing is,” Odile went on, “years later, when Cécile must have been about sixteen, I happened to catch a glimpse of her doing the exact same thing! She thought she had the house to herself and she was just reaching her climax when I passed by the utility room door. I have to admit she looked very sexy, even if she is my daughter, so I watched for a moment. Then I sneaked back out, and came noisily into the house a few minutes later, to give her time to organise herself. I shouted hello, got the things I’d come for and was about to leave again when she came out of the utility room, fully dressed. As I went out of the door, I said, “If the washing machine needs to be pushed back, it’s best to do it when you’re sure there’s nobody else around.” She went bright pink and we both burst out laughing. I’d been going through a difficult patch with her, but that incident turned us from spitting cats into best friends.”

  “What a lovely story,” Gaëlle said, smiling. “I’m sorry I never met your Paul, he sounds fun.”

  Odile started to laugh, then choked. “I was about to say exactly the same thing about your Jérôme,” she declared, mopping her eyes. “Now, do you want me to finish telling what I started last time?”

  “If you want to tell, I’m happy to listen,” Gaëlle said. Odile recounted some of her experiences. It seemed that, while the sex was often good, the men involved were a mixed bag of idiots, fortune hunters and crooks.

  Odile concluded, “So, as I told you, I just wanted to feel well-fucked, but I became dissatisfied with how I achieved that. I took Barbara into my confidence and explained the problem to her. It was either that or start to go further onto the wild side, sex clubs and group sex, and I don’t think that’s for me. I was amazed to discover that she was in complete sympathy. She’d had similar reactions when her divorce came through. You only have to look at this house to understand why she’d be a honeypot for a fortune hunter.”

  “So what happened next?” Gaëlle asked.

  “Barbara and I came to the conclusion that we could have fun without men,” Odile explained. “Not that we are lesbians,” she went on hurriedly. “We just try things out in each other’s company.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Oh, vibrators, all sorts of toys. We trust each other and it’s interesting to see how someone else reacts to certain experiences.”

  “Such as?”

  Odile smiled.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice Barbara’s nipples last time!”

  “I could hardly miss them,” Gaëlle admitted.

  “The first time she showed me her little pump, I was very unsure. But she persuaded me to try it, and wow!”

  Gaëlle could feel her heart beating faster as she asked, “How does it feel?”

  “Your breasts and especially your nipples become very sensitive and, of course, they are much more noticeable.”

  “They certainly are,” Gaëlle exclaimed.

  “I haven’t dared yet to go out after pumping them up. I’m only a housewife after all, not a top model.”

  “None of us is. The important thing is your reaction, rather than other people’s. You would certainly feel very sexual, I imagine.”

  “Oh yes, very. Would you like to watch me do it?”

  “Maybe later,” Gaëlle said, telling herself to defer the gratification. “I’d be interested to see the equipment, though, if you want to show it to me.”

  Odile stood and led the way through to another, smaller room with no outside windows, but several mirrors. “Barbara’s dressing room, originally,” Odile explained. “Her secret sex room now. You get the picture?” she asked, opening the drawer of a bureau to reveal an array of vibrators of all shapes and sizes, each in its own little niche. “But this is what you wanted to see.” Beside a sofa on the floor sat an electric pump. Several sets of transparent plastic tubing hung neatly alongside it. A box of li
ttle glass cylinders of varying diameters was on a low table nearby.

  “You can do both nipples at once,” Odile explained, holding up a section of tubing, “When the pump is working, your nipples feel as if they could be drawn right up the cylinder and out at the other end. But they never are, fortunately.” she concluded, and laughed.

  “Isn’t it noisy?” Gaëlle inquired.

  “No, that’s the beauty of Barbara’s money. The pump is almost totally silent. It cost a bomb, I’m sure.” Odile chose one of the cylinders and clipped it to the tube.

  “Let me demonstrate,” she said. “Cover the open end with the palm of your hand to form a seal.”

  Gaëlle did as she was told and Odile flicked a switch. There was a quiet hum, and Gaëlle felt a slight suction against her palm. Odile turned a knob, and suddenly the skin of Gaëlle’s hand was being drawn up into the tube.

  “It’s almost as powerful as a vacuum cleaner!” Gaëlle declared.

  “If you let go of it, the suction will hold it in place,” Odile told her. “Can you imagine what it does to a nipple? I’ve set it to straight suction, but if I do this…it pulses, as well,” she said, flicking another switch.

  Gaëlle nodded, although her own mind was not thinking of the effect on nipples but of how it would feel if she fitted the cup tightly over her clitoris hood. The mere idea of it gave her the trembles. She calmed herself down and pulled the cylinder away from her skin. It made a plopping sound and left a red ring on her palm. Time for a change of subject..

  “Shall we go for a swim now?” she suggested. “I think perhaps we should cool off. I’ve even brought my swimsuit this time.”

  She couldn’t miss how Odile’s face fell.

  “But I’m happy to swim naked, if that’s what you usually do,” Gaëlle added quickly.