Season Four: French Kissing, Book 4

by Harper Bliss

  Dominique brought her hands to her side. “Nu-uh, Solange. If I’m not working anymore tonight, then neither are you.”

  Solange stared at Dominique for a second. “Fine, I’ll have a small glass then.”

  “Remember my birthday dinner,” Steph said. “This one here,” she pointed at Dominique, “had knocked back a bottle of Bordeaux and, of course, five minutes after we went to bed, we were woken up. Luckily it was ‘only’—she curled her fingers into air quotes—the under-secretary for agriculture who had been caught in flagrante with a sex worker, but imagine if it had been something really important and you’d had to make a difficult decision.”

  “I’m the president of France for crying out loud. If I’m no longer allowed to have a bottle of wine on my partner’s birthday.” She scoffed. “Then what’s the point?” This time, Dominique held up her glass. “Welcome, Aurore. Steph speaks highly of you.” She fixed her gaze on Aurore for a split second and Aurore felt that tingle again in her stomach. She’d seen Dominique Laroche on television countless times, but standing next to her was of another order entirely.

  The president oozed charisma and, as soon as she’d entered, had become the natural centre of attention in the room. “I’ve been instructed not to talk about sperm tonight, so I shall hold my tongue. Unless you have something to say on the matter.” Dominique glanced at Steph and winked at her. Clearly no one, not even her partner, could tell Dominique Laroche what to do.

  “It’s not exactly my favourite topic of conversation either,” Aurore said. She stole a glance at Solange to see if her face had lightened up at all. Not just yet. “But we can’t deny it’s instrumental for certain things.”

  “Oh, come on,” Steph objected. “We’ve barely had a sip of wine.”

  “What do you want to talk about then, chérie?” Dominique asked.

  “Anything but semen. I haven’t even had my dinner yet.”

  Dominique broke out into a chuckle. “If you put it like that.”

  Aurore hadn’t told Anne Rivière she was coming here tonight. As far as she was concerned, this was, indeed, a private dinner. Inevitably, politics would come up—how could it not?—but discussing the bill wasn’t the goal of the dinner. Aurore, at least, had very different motives. Such as melting the ice queen sitting next to her. It was as though, when she looked at Steph and Dominique, the room radiated with warmth and when she looked to her left, where Solange was twirling her glass in her hands without drinking from it, a cold front hung stubbornly in the air.

  “Solange,” Steph started. “What do you usually do of an evening?” she locked her gaze on Solange, not giving her any way out. Aurore felt a little sorry for her.

  “I think you know very well what I do, Stéphanie.”

  “Please, call me Steph. No one calls me Stéphanie. Not even my mother.”

  “I do,” Dominique said.

  “Yes, well, you’re the president. You’re the only one I can stand doing it. When someone else calls me Stéphanie, it’s as if they’re talking about another person.”

  Aurore had a long history of putting people she interviewed for her radio show at ease. It was in her nature to try and make anyone feel comfortable in her company—and she felt Steph was perhaps being a bit harsh on Solange. Although she was pretty certain Solange had been harsh on Steph many times in return.

  “Let me guess. The chief of staff is a raging workaholic?” Aurore gave Solange her best smile.

  “I have to be.”

  “Solange is my secret weapon,” Dominique said. “Without her, the country would be in great disarray.”

  “High praise, indeed.” Aurore tried to read Solange’s face. Was that a tiny hint of pride?

  “I love to work, so why shouldn’t I?” Solange offered.

  “You must do something to relax. Not even the greatest workaholics can be in work mode all the time. We already know the president likes to knock back a bottle of Bordeaux.” Aurore cut her glance to Dominique. “Nothing wrong with that, of course.” She tried a smile, hoping to see it mirrored on Solange’s face. “I, for instance, love to watch reality TV. There’s this show about cats.” Aurore chuckled at the mere thought of it. “They film them and give them a personality and make up stories about them. It’s silly but brilliant.”

  “Cats’ Eyes,” Solange said. “I’ve seen it. It’s a bit more silly than brilliant, you must admit.”

  “It does what it’s supposed to do with great efficiency. Maybe that’s not quite brilliance, but it is wonderful. It makes me laugh, even when I don’t much feel like laughing.” Aurore sipped from the wine, which was excellent and just the right temperature. “That’s not to say I don’t also like a nice glass of wine, of course.”

  “I like to read,” Solange said.

  “Reading the newspaper doesn’t count as relaxation when you’re chief of staff at the Elysée,” Dominique said.

  “Says the woman who likes to fall asleep while watching the late night news,” Steph said.

  “Not always,” Dominique shot Steph a warm smile, “and I have you to relax me.”

  They both certainly seemed very relaxed at the moment. Seeing Steph and the president enjoy each other’s company soothed Aurore in return. Clearly they were comfortable enough around her to talk to each other in this way. She stole another glance at Solange, who still sat stiffly in her chair, her fingers cramped around the stem of her wine glass.

  “What do you like to read?” Aurore asked Solange.

  “The classics,” Solange said.

  A new silence fell.

  Aurore could make neither head nor tail of this woman. Even though she believed there was as much to be gleaned of a person’s temperament by what they didn’t say as by what did come out of their mouth. It made things a bit more challenging, but most of Aurore’s life was a challenge. Getting people to talk about their sex lives. Going against goody two-shoes, many of whom were members of Dominique Laroche’s political party, whenever it was needed. Falling for the wrong kind of women—although the latter wasn’t that much of a deliberate choice.

  She remembered the thought she’d had the other day. She needed to get Solange Garceau alone. People were often so different when you got to speak to them on their own. Aurore imagined it must be very hard for Solange to let her guard down this evening. She was having dinner with her boss, after all. She vowed to reserve further judgement on Solange until she’d had the opportunity to have a decent conversation with her, not when Solange was cast in the part as nanny to Steph, or as chief of staff to the president. But just as a woman in the world going about her day-to-day life.

  “How about some dinner?” Dominique said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Aurore was seated next to Steph and, if she wished the other two women away, she could be having a tête-à-tête with the president. Oh, to be able to ask her the questions she asked certain guests on her show. But that would never be possible, even when Dominique was no longer in office. Once a president, always a president. Even though it would certainly be a coup if someone of Dominique’s calibre spoke freely about the most beautiful connection possible between human beings. Then again, Dominique Laroche had already given up much more of her private life than any of her male counterparts who had come before her. That coming-out interview she’d done must have meant a lot to a great deal of people. It had meant a lot to Aurore, who had been out and proud for thirty years.

  “I used to listen to your radio show once in a while,” Dominique said. “Before I went on the campaign trail and my every minute had to be accounted for.”

  When anyone said they listened to the show, it always seemed like they were sharing secret, as if listening to Sexualité Aujourd’hui was so different from listening to any other radio show. But Aurore was used to the tone of confidentiality it inspired in people.

  “It’s an honour to be able to count you among my listeners.” Aurore wanted to ask Solange if she sometimes listened, but she
didn’t want to catch her out.

  “It’s a very important show,” Steph said. “Not only because of the topics you address, but because of the tone you adopt. It makes all the difference. Imagine a teenager in a small town somewhere, hearing you talk with such confidence about being a lesbian, or approach any other subject with such openness and positivity.”

  “Thank you.” Aurore offered Steph a wide smile. “Was it difficult for you to come out?”

  “Not really. First of all, I’ve had tomboy written all over me since I was a child. And I was raised by a single mother who didn’t have much time for men.”

  “Your mother is a lesbian as well?” Aurore asked.

  “No. She just doesn’t care for having men in the house. Not when I was growing up, and not now.”

  “Sounds like a woman after my own heart,” Aurore said.

  “But you are a lesbian,” Solange said. She’d been so quiet, Aurore had almost forgotten she was there—most likely because Aurore was sitting across from Dominique, who sucked all the attention towards herself even when she wasn’t speaking.

  “That I very much am.” Aurore scanned Solange’s face. Surely she couldn’t have meant it as a recrimination—not with the company she was keeping.

  “It seems to be all the rage these days. Sexual fluidity, especially amongst women. As if every woman needs to have at least kissed another woman, lest she not be in touch with her own sexuality,” Solange said.

  Aurore narrowed her eyes. Something was clearly bubbling beneath the surface here. “I think it’s more a sign of the times we live in. Women finally feel confident enough to have different experiences and to express themselves,” she said.

  “Even tonight, this is what we’re talking about, when there are a million topics of conversation that are more interesting. You’re having dinner with the president, for heaven’s sake. Don’t you want to ask her about her accomplishments? About the measures she has taken to create more jobs? The difficult pension reform she’s trying to pull off? Isn’t all of that far more important?”

  “Someone has a chip on her shoulder,” Steph said.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Solange’s words were still clipped and measured, but her pitch had risen. “I was invited to a private dinner with the president and her partner. I was only told at the very last minute that Radio Deux’s sex expert was going to be here and I certainly wasn’t expecting the evening’s sole topic of conversation to be sex.” She turned to Dominique. “I’m sorry, Madam President. I don’t mean to be disrespectful in your home, but it’s very clear to me how this came about, and I don’t appreciate it.”

  “You mean it’s very clear I invited Aurore,” Steph said, her tone dripping with accusation.

  Solange remained silent. She looked as though she knew she had said enough. Aurore didn’t know how to take the pressure off this particular situation.

  “Enough.” Dominique squared her shoulders. “You two quibble like my children.” She turned to Aurore. “I apologise for this.”

  “I’m aware my presence can be polarising,” Aurore said.

  “Which is exactly why Stéphanie invited you. Because she knew it would rile me up,” Solange said.

  “Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me,” Steph said. “Can you blame me? Unlike you, I do like to relax in the evening. It wouldn’t have been very relaxing if it was me against you and Dominique, now would it? What was I to expect? Another lecture on how I should respect your position more?”

  Solange stared at Steph for a few seconds, then pushed her chair back. “Please excuse me, Madam President. I wish tonight could have been different. It might have been had I not felt so ganged-up on.” With that, she left the dining room and a few seconds later the double doors Aurore had walked through earlier banged shut.

  Dominique shook her head.

  “That woman,” Steph said.

  “You should have cut her some slack.”

  “Of course it’s my fault again. Not uptight, judgemental, too-righteous-for-her-own-good Solange,” Steph said.

  “I think I’d better go too.” Aurore rose. “It was an honour to meet you, Dominique. Truly.” Aurore held out her hand. She could hardly storm out the way Solange had done, even though part of her felt like doing exactly that. Steph had more or less admitted that she wanted to use her as a pawn against Solange at this dinner. The prospect had excited Aurore a tad, but actually experiencing it was far more uncomfortable.

  “You don’t have to go, Aurore.” Steph stood as well. “At least let me apologise. I didn’t know Solange was going to react like this.”

  “You should have known,” Dominique said.

  Aurore needed to get out of there fast. As intriguing as it was to get a glimpse into the president’s private life, she had no desire to witness an argument between her and her partner. That was too intimate, even for her.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Steph said.

  “I believe I can find my own way.” Aurore gave Steph an awkward kiss on the cheek. She turned to Dominique, who was still sitting, and held out her hand. Dominique gave it a firm shake while she fixed her gaze steadily on Aurore’s.

  Aurore gathered her belongings and, once outside the living room doors, was escorted out by the same man who had let her in.

  Episode Sixteen

  Dominique

  “Tell me honestly.” As usual, Dominique found it hard to remain annoyed with Steph for long. “Was it really too hard to pretend to like Solange? Just for one evening?”

  “Apparently it was.” Steph sulked in the corner of the sofa.

  Dominique plonked down next to her, but didn’t touch her. Not yet. “I simply can’t have you at war with my chief of staff, babe. You need to find a way to get along.”

  “How about her? Doesn’t she have to find a way? She had a chance to make an effort all night long. But no, she just stormed off.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  “Yes, of course I can. The evening was pleasant enough. Aurore was a great guest. But of course Solange had to take personal offence.”

  “So it wasn’t a personal attack on your part?”

  Steph sighed. “She doesn’t like me. I might as well have the word lesbian written all over me and Solange can’t deal with that. Nor can she deal with the fact that you love me. I bet her fantasies consist of you meeting some handsome man you fall head-over-heels in love with. She doesn’t care about your personal happiness, let alone mine. In fact, I suspect her of having homophobic tendencies.”

  “Solange is not a homophobe. She’s just protective of me, which she is paid to be.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “Asked her what? Whether she has a problem with me being with a woman?” Dominique tapped her fingers against her knee. “Of course I haven’t.”

  “Well, you should.”

  “That’s not the kind of relationship we have.”

  “Clearly.” Steph visibly relaxed her muscles. “Some people just can’t deal with it. The hatred runs so deep, it’s locked away in a place where they can’t touch it, let alone change it.”

  “Solange doesn’t hate me.” Dominique couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Not you, but certain aspects of you. She clearly hates me.”

  “Solange doesn’t hate you either, babe. Come on.”

  Steph turned towards her, her eyes ablaze with something fiery. “You think I haven’t come across people like her before in my life? She can usually hide it underneath a veneer of professionalism and by keeping a distance, but tonight she could barely contain her rage. She stormed out on you. On the president. Simply because Aurore’s presence agitated her so much. Aurore and me, of course. Two out lesbians. And you. You’ve probably been her idol for a long time. Then her candidate. Now her president. Now she has to stomach that you go to bed with me every night. No wonder she exploded like that. I do have to hand it to her, it’s the first time I’ve seen such emotion in her.”


  “I think you’ve got her all wrong, babe. I really do.” Dominique didn’t know how to make Steph understand, but she had to keep on trying. “I’ve known Solange for a long time. I spend a lot of time with her. She dealt with our affair being exposed like a pro. I’m sure, from a campaign standpoint, she would have preferred things to be otherwise, but I’m equally sure she wants me to be happy.”

  “Of course she dealt with it like a pro. She is a pro. Too much of one, if you ask me.”

  “Either way”—Dominique braced herself—“you’re going to have to apologise to her.”

  Steph’s eyes grew wide. “Me? Apologise to her? Not if she doesn’t apologise to you, Aurore, and me first.”

  “You’re the one who invited Aurore when you knew damn well what that would do to Solange, who was already on edge because I forced her to have a private dinner with us. You know what she’s like. You should be the bigger person here.”

  “What if I refuse?”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t.” Dominique let her knee scoot against Steph’s.

  “I will not be attacked by someone simply for being who I am. That’s not a message I want to send. I don’t care to whom.”

  “You were hardly under attack. I didn’t feel attacked.”

  “Why do I feel as though you’re not taking my side?”

  “Because I’m not taking sides. I refuse to get sucked into this. I have a budget meeting with the cabinet tomorrow. That’s what’s on my mind. Not that you and Solange can’t stand each other.”

  “You’re too honest for a politician sometimes.”

  “See, that’s something Solange would say. You do have common ground.”

  Steph rolled her eyes. “Despite what you just claimed, you do care. Why else would you have invited Solange to dinner?”

  “Of course I care. I just don’t have time for it. Admittedly, asking her was a spur of the moment decision, but I thought I could kill two birds with one stone: eat and bring you two closer together.”