La Suite (17 page)

“I can’t put
Eric off until next summer, when it would be simpler, either,” Maya
said. “If it’s going to happen, it’ll have to be soon.”

“Let me think.
The simplest option would be in a context where there are other
people exposed, like a sex club. But I can’t see you’d want that,
Eric or no Eric.”

“That’s
absolutely out of the question!” Maya exploded. “You talk about sex
clubs as if they were church socials! I’m talking about looking
sexy, not being offered up for a gangbang!”

“Leave it with
me,” Gaëlle said.

“What with you
on one side and Eric on the other, you’re not giving me a lot of
choice, are you?”

“You just want
to feel it isn’t your responsibility, Maya,” Gaëlle declared. “If
you’re going to explore, at least confess to yourself that the idea
is appealing.”

“Oh, I suppose
so. Whether I’ll feel the same when I’m stark naked in the middle
of the school yard is another matter.”

Gaëlle laughed.
“Even I have never done that! And don’t worry, if I come up with a
situation in which you can just try it out, it will be nothing too
extreme.”

“The only
difficulty is that your idea of extreme and mine may not coincide,”
Maya said firmly.

Gaëlle suddenly
clapped a hand to her mouth, “We forgot to switch the phone on,”
she said. “Eric’ll be mad!”

“No, he won’t.
There’s a parents’ evening at his school tonight. He was so, so
cross!”

“If you want,
we can take advantage of that for you to try on some more clothes,”
Gaëlle suggested, grabbing Maya by the arm and getting to her feet.
“I promise I won’t send any home with you.”

“You’re very
persuasive, did you know that?” Maya remarked as she was dragged
into the spare bedroom. “Come on, then, let’s go and see.”

Faced with the
array of Gaëlle’s costumes for erotic occasions, Maya looked lost,
not sure of where to begin. Gaëlle sensed her friend’s indecision.
She could tell that Maya didn’t want to appear too keen on the more
extreme things, so she started with the green dress she’d worn for
Gabi’s dinner group. Maya took off her skirt and blouse.

“You’re not
going to try on sexy clothes while you’re still wearing tights and
a bra!” Gaëlle insisted. “Get them off!”

“The tights can
go,” Maya conceded. “But I’m keeping my bra on. You’re Miss Bare
Tits, not me!”

“If you must,”
Gaëlle sighed. Down to her red thong and bra, Maya looked at
Gaëlle.

“I have to
admit that since you’ve confirmed to me that you enjoy sex with
women, I do find it a little intimidating to strip off in front of
you,” she confessed.

“Maya, you’re
my friend. I wouldn’t make any move on you unless I was sure you
wanted it,” Gaëlle assured her.

“I suppose
that’s as much reassurance as I’m going to get. So, this dress
first?”

After half an
hour, the spare bed was covered with dresses that Maya had tried.
Gaëlle had gradually chosen things that were more and more sexy as
Maya had got into the spirit of the moment.

“Actually,
there’s something here that you can have, because it’s too long in
the body for me,” Gaëlle said. “I get wrinkles at the waist.” Maya
peered at the scarlet leotard and held it up.

“I love the
colour,” she said.

“It would suit
you more than me,” Gaëlle agreed. “It closes with hooks and eyes in
the crotch. That’s another reason I haven’t worn it. On me, if I
can persuade it not to crease, it dangles!”

Maya pulled the
leotard on and grappled with the fastening between her legs. She
straightened the fabric with a wiggle and looked at herself in the
mirror. She turned, and looked at her bottom, exposed by the thong
back.

“If anything,
it’s a bit short in the body for me,” she said. “It’s very tight
down here.” She eased the thong between her buttocks.

“Not half bad,
though, are you?” Gaëlle commented. The leotard had only one
shoulder strap, and the neckline slanted down under the opposite
arm, passing low across the right breast. It was skin-tight on
Maya, and Gaëlle almost remarked on the fact that she could see the
lines of Maya’s thong, as well as her bra straps, rather too
clearly. She stopped herself in time, though. She wanted to
encourage Maya, not frighten her.

“I’m not sure
it would survive Eric’s enthusiasm,” Maya commented, stripping it
off. “But I do feel good in it.”

“You look
fantastic, you mean,” Gaëlle insisted. “You must keep it. I can’t
wear it, anyway.”

“Can I? It is
quite stunning.”

“It’s the body
in it that does that.”

The doorbell
rang, making both women jump. “I’ll go, I’m decent,” Gaëlle
said

“It’s Eric, I
know it is,” Maya whispered, panicking. “He mustn’t catch me like
this. If ever I’m going to wear it, it has to be a surprise.”

Gaëlle was
thoughtful as she headed towards her front door. Maya had come a
long way in a short time. It didn’t take long for Gaëlle to dispose
of the double glazing salesman who had wangled his way into the
building, but by the time she came back to her apartment after
escorting him onto the street, Maya was dressed again.

“You’re going?”
Gaëlle cried.

“I must. As I
said before, these sessions are quite demanding for me. I’ll see
you next Monday.”

“Have you got
the leotard? You must take it,” Gaëlle said.

“It’s in my
bag. But remember, please, not a word to Eric about it.”

“I
promise.”

From Gaëlle’s
Journal

Yesterday
evening, I had no idea Maya was going to come asking how to take
her first steps towards a more erotic lifestyle. Why would I? I’ll
have to be careful what I say. I’d love her to experience some of
the sensations that I’ve had, but only if and when she’s ready. She
must have a leaning that way or our few discussions so far wouldn’t
have produced this major shift, from being intrigued about my sex
life to being interested in a change in her own.

On a totally
different subject, I put myself through such a hard workout at the
gym yesterday. An hour’s swim, then all the weights, plus the
running machine. I feel my body is getting back into the shape I
want. Maya may think I’m good enough to show, but I want to feel
confident that I’ve done everything possible.

Chapter
Twenty-one

The stiffness
in Gaëlle’s muscles hadn’t gone away when she woke up the following
morning. As soon as she was showered and dressed, she dug out Jo
Brusque’s phone number and called him. Having massaged her to
consecutive shattering orgasms didn’t seem to have improved his
social polish, but he told her to come that afternoon. Gaëlle took
the bus and made her way up to the apartment.

“Madeleine’s
out,” Jo said. “Deep massage, okay?”

“That’s fine.
All I want today is a good, hard massage,” Gaëlle replied. She
stripped off in the living room and lay on the massage table,
rather conscious that she no longer had pubic hair hiding her sex.
Jo went to work. Forty minutes later, as Gaëlle was relaxing before
getting dressed again, she said to him, “What did you and Madeleine
do for Jérôme when he came here?”

“Madeleine
didn’t do anything. Jérôme came for a massage, just like the one
you’ve just had,” Jo said.

“Then why did
you offer me so much more last time?”

“Jérôme never
needed what you had last time. He was very happy with his emotional
and sex life. When you came here the other day, it was clear you
were choked-up and locked in. Our task was to release you,
following the instructions that Jérôme left us. But you’re even
stronger than Jérôme thought, and strength isn’t always a good
thing. We’d expected you a lot sooner.”

“I wish I’d
known.”

“It wouldn’t
have made any difference. You found us when you were ready. It
wouldn’t have worked before.”

Gaëlle stood up
and started to dress as Jo began to fold up the massage table. Just
then, the door opened and Madeleine came in. Without any
embarrassment, she and Jo kissed, looking like young lovers, Gaëlle
thought. She watched, warmed by this further proof that passion and
age were not incompatible. When they broke off, Madeleine turned to
Gaëlle and kissed her on both cheeks.

“You look
well,” she commented. “I get a feeling that your last visit here
was helpful.”

“Oh, yes, and
how!” Gaëlle responded. “Actually, I have a question for you.”

“Ask away.”

“Who did your
nipple piercing for you, and do you recommend them?” Gaëlle
asked.

“It was done by
a friend, and yes, he’s good. He doesn’t practise professionally
any more, but if you like, I’ll introduce you to him. Maybe he’ll
make an exception for you.”

“That would be
great.”

“I’ll call him
and let you know.”

It was the
following weekend when Gaëlle found a message from Madeleine on her
answering machine. “Hello, Gaëlle. It’s Madeleine. If you pick me
up this afternoon at two, I’ll take you to see Maurice. Call me if
you can’t make it.”

Gaëlle sat in
her car outside Madeleine’s block of apartments. Promptly at two,
Madeleine appeared and got in. She directed Gaëlle out to one of
the suburbs, to a neat little house set in a well-cared-for garden.
As Gaëlle parked the car, a man at least as old as Jo appeared on
the veranda.

“Hello,
Maurice, it’s me,” Madeleine called out.

Gaëlle was a
little surprised, since they were only twenty metres or so from the
house. Things became clearer as they walked up the steps to the
front door. The white stick in his hand told Gaëlle everything.
Maurice was blind.

“Maurice, this
is Gaëlle,” Madeleine said. Maurice held out his hand and Gaëlle
shook it.

Maurice
laughed. “I may not be able to see you, but I can feel you’re
nervous,” he said. “I was a tattooist for thirty years before I
lost my sight and I assure you, I do know what I’m doing. But today
is just to meet and find out whether what you want is right for
you.”

They went into
the house. Gaëlle noticed immediately that the flowers, which were
everywhere, had been chosen for their scent, not their colours.
Maurice might not have been able to see, Gaëlle thought, but that
hadn’t prevented him from furnishing the house with taste, as well
as keeping it spotlessly clean. They sat in the living room and
Maurice brought coffee, moving confidently between kitchen and
coffee table. Gaëlle watched in admiration as the cups were filled,
with never a drop spilt.

“So,” Maurice
said, settling himself in an armchair,” what piercing appeals to
you?”

Gaëlle felt
slightly intimidated, but cleared her throat and said, “A deep
hood.”

“Deep hood.
Hmmm. You know it isn’t possible for everyone?”

“Yes, but I
think it will work on me.”

“I’ll be the
judge of that,” Maurice said. “If I say it isn’t right for you, I
won’t do it.”

“Of course,”
Gaëlle agreed.

“I’d better
examine you. I’ll be able to tell straight away,” Maurice said,
standing up and going over to what looked like the twin of Jo’s
massage table. Gaëlle followed him. She stepped out of her knickers
and lifted her skirt, then sat on the table.

“I need you to
lie down, knees apart and soles of feet together.”

Gaëlle
complied, feeling rather inelegant. Maurice put on a pair of thin
latex gloves and began to examine Gaëlle’s sex.

“Hmm. You used
to have a hood piercing, didn’t you?” Maurice observed.

“How do you
know?”

“I can feel the
thickening of the skin where it’s healed.”

Gaëlle had
examined herself that morning and had been unable to find any trace
of her hood piercing. She was impressed by the obvious sensitivity
of Maurice’s fingertips. He continued his exploration, and then
gently eased the clitoris hood out of the cleft of Gaëlle’s
sex.

“Hmmm,” Maurice
said again. “There’s enough space, but I’d prefer to do a triangle
piercing for you. That will give you a piercing immediately behind
the shaft, so you’ll always be aware of it.” He took a felt tip pen
and made a little dot on the skin of Gaëlle’s clitoris hood, well
inside the cleft of her sex. “Just here. Is that what you
want?”

“I think so,”
Gaëlle said. “Can you do it now?”

“Go away and
think about it, then come back if you’re sure.”

Gaëlle steadied
her voice and said, “I’m sure now.”

“As I said, go
away and think about it.”

It was clear
that Maurice had no intention of doing her piercing there and then,
so Gaëlle dressed, drank her coffee and made small talk about the
garden, since it was evident that Maurice spent considerable effort
in maintaining it. She drove Madeleine back home, then returned to
her own apartment.

Chapter
Twenty-two

The idea that
she was going to be pierced encouraged Gaëlle to look over the
little collection of jewellery that she had worn in her previous
piercing. Most were gold rings. There were small ones, which could
be tucked away, and a couple of hoops, which she’d worn when she’d
wanted her pierced state to be very obvious. Some of the rings had
coloured beads, to coordinate with whatever she was wearing, as
well as to rub against her clitoris, of course. She was looking
forward to putting at least some of them back into use. Finally,
she took out her favourite, the little pin that Jérôme had given
her. It was designed to sit across and outside the cleft of her
sex. She took off her knickers and examined herself. The point
indicated by Maurice’s pen was deep between her outer labia and she
had to pull her hood well out to work out where the piercing would
be. Gaëlle wondered whether it would even be possible to wear
Jérôme’s pin. She couldn’t be certain. She tried to imagine how it
would look and feel. Not comfortable, she was sure, probably not
even aesthetic, but extremely sexy. That made her heart race. The
prospect was turning her on.