Leyla
Stepping off the train, Charlotte rushed to me, hugging me.
"I'm so glad you could come; my cousins are here and I know the C. brothers, you know our neighbors, are coming for lunch tomorrow. My cousins are here and I know that the C. brothers, you know our neighbors, are coming for lunch tomorrow.
-I'm so glad you could come; my cousins are here and I know that the C. brothers, you know our neighbors, are coming for lunch tomorrow.
-You'll sleep with me in my room and tell me all about it. The parents are waiting for us.
Without being magnificent, his parents' house was vast, built in the beautiful clear stone so characteristic of the region. The pond that bordered it added the charm of water, soothing, calm; this place filled with memories of our childhood and adolescence, as always, made me happy.
François, his father, welcomed us.
"How is our Shahbanou? Always so beautiful and chic".
He liked to tease me about my origins, it was a game always repeated; they had worse references!
The dinner was a family affair... and delicious, Charlotte's mother Claire was a wonderful cook. As for her father, a wine collector, he had an impressive cellar that he introduced me to.
My parents did not have a very developed wine culture, and it was at Charlotte's that I discovered this pleasure.
When I was younger, François would serve us a small glass and invite us to describe our impressions; this is how I discovered a rather sharp palate. Needless to say, this unintentional quality made me one of François' preferred guests and I had with him the complicit relationship that children and parents sometimes have.
Charlotte's cousins, twins of our age, were the daughters of Claire's sister; true twins they were inseparable and very pretty girls.
After dinner, the four of us gathered in the living room to watch a few episodes of Mad Men, a show we were all crazy about. Don Drapper had us all in a tizzy, with our delightfully indecent girl talk about his looks and anatomy; I didn't want to admit it, but I liked Megan, his wife, the most.
The evening ended at three o'clock with a board game. It was Friday night, tomorrow we would sleep late.
In the privacy of her room, Charlotte, who was not yet sleepy, was lying next to me.
"So, tell me how this course is going.
-Very interesting but it's a crazy pace.
-You were expecting it!
-Yes, not that much. But I'm learning a lot and I think it's really good for my CV
-Ah my Leyla, I recognize you well there; ambitious and voluntary.
-Maybe, you are nice. And you, where are you?
-You know that studies are not my forte but I like art. I'm going to London to study photography.
-Yes, you told me about it, is it decided?
-I'm leaving in September, the studies last 3 years.
-Great, a place to stay in London!
-I hope so! Tell me about your love life. Are you still seeing Matthieu ?
-Heuuuu, I haven't seen him for a while; I don't like him much.
-Did you replace him ?
I never hid anything from Charlotte; we were our mutual confidants.
-Do you remember that last year I had an affair with a girl on campus?
-Did you see her again?
-No, what I meant was that I really feel attracted to women.
-Oh yeah! Me not more than that but a little too; I still prefer boys. Are you hiding something from me?
-Well, I met a woman at M.'s house, older than me, she's 29. We only saw each other once, intimately, but it was very strong, really strong.
-Are you in love?
-I don't know but I think about her a lot.
-Do you want to tell me more?
That night, I did want to tell you more; the memory of that evening was spinning in my head without me being able to open up. Charlotte was the only one I could talk to about it.
-She is really a beautiful woman, a lot of charm, almost magnetic, and she made me discover things... different things, I had never come like that.
-Hmmm you interest me! Tell me everything she did to you.
-It's very intimate! You won't talk about it, ever?
-Oh, Leyla, we've known each other for 15 years! You know that I never say anything about our secrets and you don't say anything about mine either.
I kissed her as I took her in my arms.
"I know it well my Charlotte dear".
Freed, finally, I told my evening with Marianne; I omitted only the episode of the drawer!
"Wow, this is so exciting. You know I always suspected that sex was important to you; you never hid much from me but I could feel that you were still a bit self-contained.
- Yes, it's not always easy to say these things.
-So now I'm really excited about your story.
Obviously this made us laugh a lot but this laugh was a little nervous, intended to hide our thoughts.
-You're excited about it too.
-Yes, of course, very much.
Charlotte continued, but in a tone that I sensed was troubled.
"I love you the way you are, you know that, and I don't want to do anything that would hurt us or rather change our friendship."
I shared Charlotte's words as I knew what they really meant.
"For once tonight, I say yes to you. Tomorrow we will be as we have always been.
Always a smarty-pants, huh? Shall we promise each other then?
I smiled, moved closer to her, put my lips on her mouth.
"Yes, my Charlotte, we promise each other.
It was she who made the first move. She took down the sheets, raised her T-shirt and began to caress herself while looking at me.
Turned towards her, one leg raised, I replicated her gesture. The light sound of our fingers acted as an invitation, I took the lead, withdrew her hand to replace it with my mouth. Her arm invited me to come; I stepped over it. We were both very excited, I remembered Marianne's expert caress and applied myself to lavish it.
We enjoyed a lot, quickly.
It was not necessary to go further, it was our pact.
Both of us on our backs, we thought in silence. It was Charlotte who broke the silence.
"You lick so well! ... But now I still want a cock in my pussy.
I threw the pillow to her, to stifle her laughter that I shared.
When we got up, the morning was well advanced. The next day, I received a message from Marianne... and a picture. She was spending the weekend in Paris, which I knew. I was silent about my evening with Charlotte. An oath is an oath. Digital kisses!
The rest of the stay was as always, enchanting.
Return on Sunday. Tomorrow I will see Marianne.
Marianne
Saturday in "chill" mode after my evening with Blanche. As after each of our romps, she had called me at the end of the day; indecent and provocative, Blanche liked to describe her feelings to me, in detail, cruelly.
"You know, I still have that sweet pain on my pussy, I love it!
-I haven't moved from my house and I still wear your intimate perfume
-That's how I love you Marianne, vicious. You "forgot" to whip me last night, she said laughing
-You have to save some for the next time.
-Precisely if the next time was tonight.
I lied.
-I can't tonight, I have dinner.
-I can come by afterwards!
Tomorrow I have work to do, I need to be clear-headed.
-I don't insist, my dear. If you have a repentance, call me; I still feel like it.
Tireless Blanche, I loved her just the way she was. Strangely, while we got along so well in love, we rarely talked about each other. She was as reserved about herself, her moods, her life, as she was unbridled in her sexuality, with me anyway.
I had made several attempts to invite her to talk, to confide in her as two friends can do; each time, she would dodge with a pirouette. It was like that and finally it didn't matter, we spent wonderful moments together.
The rest of the evening was spent doing some housework and the paperwork that had to be done every week: insurance, bills, checking my bank account, my savings. Usually reserved for Sundays, these tasks, as trivial as they were tedious, I had to do them tonight; the partner who was in charge of me had to present our study to his client's shareholders at the beginning of the week and I was the linchpin of this document. My Sunday would be studious.
I went to bed early and read a book by Elisabeth Badinter, an intelligent and courageous woman whose vision of feminism I shared. Among some of my lesbian friends, my taste for this generation of feminists, that of our mothers, could disturb; we sometimes had animated and even passionate debates on this subject. I believed deeply in the equality between men and women and if things were not going fast enough, I could be satisfied with their speed. I know that I am privileged, raised like my brothers with a taste for effort, my parents put all three of us on an equal footing. Excellence was an uncompromising requirement for the fact that I was a girl; my father always told me that studies would be your passport to freedom, to choose your life, to be independent; nothing is more precious.
I was not lacking in character but I was never rebellious or hardly ever. So I followed this path with some success.
When I closed my book, with the light off, my mind wandered and finally settled on Leyla.
What was she doing tonight? She was spending the weekend at this childhood friend's house; she hadn't told me much about it, we didn't know each other well enough yet to reveal our lives at any moment. And then I thought she was quite wise after all, even though I would have had bad grace to demand anything, even in my imagination.
I was still young, but the idea of building something with a woman was beginning to nag at me. Always this desire to project myself.
Leyla was still a bit "clumsy" or rather inexperienced, which didn't matter to me; touching by her shyness as well as by her boldness, I could see myself guiding her as well as protecting her.
Without being an expert, the games of submission I had always shared them in a libertine frame if I may say so; I can be demanding but my partners were too.
The idea to bring Leyla to accept this desire which, without being buried, was surely not assumed, seduced me. Formatting her, bringing her to push her limits, to progressively accept what we could not imagine to accept. This work, at her pace, a pace that I already accepted, excited me a lot. The road could be long.
I looked back for a moment on what I had experienced and what struck me was that my "submissives", including Blanche, were women whom I loved but without any real love; we loved each other because we had fun together, we had strong moments but without any aftermath.
Tonight, I was considering something else with Leyla. I remembered a conversation I had had one night, at a late hour, with one of my few friends. We had known each other in prep school and after his vain efforts to win me over, we had become close, very close; he was one of my confidants. Pierre is one of those men, too rare, who love women for what they are.
It was very late then, we had smoked and drunk; he knew my taste for women of course and as a well-informed man, with his antennae always out, he had guessed, without telling me, that I had a taste for domination. With the help of alcohol, he confided in me that he too had been dreaming of these "games" for a long time. The networks made the realization of these desires rather easy. He had thrown himself into it and confessed to me the pleasures felt
"Like you, I suppose.
Taken by surprise, I did not shirk.
"Yes, like me.
- You know Daphne, my fiancée
-Of course, explain yourself
-Well, I still have these desires but I am unable to live them with her
-Really, why?
-First of all I never talked to her about it and I'm afraid to talk to her about it
-That I understand, not necessarily easy with the one you might marry.
-Yes, but it's not just that. Even if Daphne shared this taste, I don't think I would be able to live it with her, you know.
-You need to be detached from the woman with whom you satisfy these desires, that's it.
-Yes, unfortunately you understand.
-I feel sorry for you, all this can make your relationship difficult, incomplete in any case.
We talked and debated about our sex lives until the early morning. When he left, he managed to get a kiss out of me, to which I responded, tenderly, without going any further, which he didn't even attempt.
In my bed, I remembered those words, our words; perhaps I was in Pierre's situation. All this pleaded for a slow progress and surely a lot of steps, me who liked to burn them!
I got up early, with my indispensable cup of tea in hand, and planned my day, with the computer already in front of me.
Before getting dressed, I decided to send a tender message to Leyla and standing in my bathroom I took a selfie, naked.
It was not until much later that she answered; she was on the train home.
"I want you," was her message.
"Can you come tonight?
-I have to have dinner with my parents, sorry.
-I understand, less than me.
-See you tomorrow at work.
-Yeah, I'm going to be 'busy bee' until Wednesday.
-Talk to you tomorrow."
Sage Leyla! I couldn't blame her.
Seeing her the next morning, already sitting behind her desk, put me in a good mood. I had a meeting with my boss at 11am; satisfied with the progress of the project, he made some corrections and recommendations. I was attacking V4, the meeting with the clients was on Thursday and I would be there. It was one of the first times I would be in front of a big client and my boss would give me the floor. I had to be "over-prepared".
I didn't sleep much during those three days and on Thursday, on the way to the Defense, my boss gave me a little compliment on my work; the hardest part was still to come.
The presentation went perfectly, I was a Marianne on the ball! We left with a new mission.
On Thursday evening, I was exhausted; I had a quick drink with the team, including Leyla who had worked on the project.
Only our eyes touched a little insistently but not enough for anyone to notice.
I went home alone and fell asleep like a log.
We had exchanged messages with Leyla; she was free Friday night. I couldn't wait to hold her in my arms.
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