by Noelle Mack
“Cheap from Oh! Oh! Odette costs big bucks,” someone said. “But you’re worth it.”
“You’re a fucking riot,” Krissie retorted. “I wanna know if this will work on stage.”
“You can make anything work, baby girl,” her manager said, leering at her.
She stepped and strutted, loving that she was the center of attention. Then she stopped in front of the mirror, loving her reflection. She ran a hand seductively up and down her bare thighs. “It’ll do.”
Bryan looked at Odette, who didn’t quite meet his glance.
“This design is totally exclusive, right?” Krissie asked Odette.
“It was made for you and on you,” Odette said. “Of course it is exclusive.”
“Mine, mine, mine?”
Odette tipped her head to one side and folded her arms over her chest. “Not forever. It will be photographed and copied after you appear on stage.”
“But I’d better be the only tramp in it when I step out in front of the band. Speaking of those guys, did anyone wake them up yet?”
“I took a peeky-weeky in the suite. Your bass player’s still conked out,” her agent said. “And ya know, he snores better than he plays.”
“Was there anyone else with him?” Krissie wanted to know.
“Three or four girls, sleeping in a heap. And the drummer. He could be dead. He was underneath.”
“Get another one in time for the show.”
The band manager guffawed. “Better hope you don’t have to. Hey, I checked in on Guitar Joe and the new sax man. They were awake. They were fighting over the pot supply.”
“What a bunch of crazy fucks. I hate them all,” Krissie said, chewing thoughtfully on a lock of her bleached hair. “Can’t I just go solo?”
“No, baby,” her agent crooned. “We need those guys to drown you out and there isn’t time to rehearse a new bunch of crazy fucks. We talked about this, Krissie. Your voice is studio quality. Stage singing could strain it and that’s not what we want. We want to use our lips, not our throat. Synch or swim.”
“I guess you’re right.” Krissie blew out a sigh and pouted. “Tell Joe and Kareem to knock it off, though. I don’t like fighting. Take the pot away.”
“I can’t do that. They just bought it.”
“If I may interrupt,” Odette said. “We should resume the fitting.”
Krissie gave a huge groan. “Fuck it. I’m sick of being stuck with pins. I want to get out of here.”
“Sure, sure,” the ponytailed guy said soothingly. “We all do.”
“But we just got here,” said someone from the entourage. “Can’t we, like, look around?”
“No,” Odette said firmly.
“Score some freebies?”
She motioned over an assistant. “Take them down to the sample room and see what there is that they can have.”
“We want those teeny shopping bags to put the goodies in,” a girl whined. “Like, for proof that we were here.”
Not caring who was watching her, Krissie began to peel off the stretchy bands. Her bare breasts popped out first and she was working on sliding the rest down over her hips, until Ponytail Man stopped her with a tap on the shoulder.
“Not here, Krissie. Save it for the ones you love: your fans.”
“Yeah, right,” she grumbled. “Fuck my fucking fans. Okay, everybody out.”
The people who’d come into the room were guided to the door by the assistant who’d been dragooned into taking them to the sample room. She followed them into the hall and closed the door behind herself.
Krissie took the opportunity to strip off the rest of the dress-in-progress and handed it nonchalantly to Odette. Bryan looked studiously at the floor as the star slid on breathtakingly tight jeans and a microscopic T-shirt.
Next up were boots, a leather jacket, sunglasses, and a swaggeringly bad attitude that was put on like an accessory.
She hoisted a gigantic Louis Vuitton satchel over her shoulder. “Okay. Thanks, Odette. Fun fooling around with you, dude,” she said to Bryan.
He nodded politely, and Krissie sashayed out, looking for her tribe.
“I am glad that’s over,” Odette said. “But she is a walking advertisement for my edge designs. I have to keep her happy.”
“You did well, Odette,” Marc said, stroking Jimmy before he put the dog down and let him run around the fitting room. “I think she liked the dress. The bondage look is still hot and Krissie wears it well.”
“She does,” Odette sighed. “That girl is hard to handle. I need to get out of here myself. Bryan, what’s it like out?”
He looked at her wan face and felt a little guilty. “Nice. Really nice. Want to take a break and wander around for a while?”
She brightened up immediately. “Yes. Marc, I am leaving you in charge.” She thrust the handful of material that had gone into Krissie’s exclusive dress at him. “Mind the pins. Don’t misplace it.”
Marc took the handful of material and stuffed it into a manila envelope. He wrote Krissie Chaos on it and sealed the envelope. “I will put it into the safe in your office.”
“Good,” Odette said absently. “Let’s go. I need fresh air and sunshine.”
“Go fool around,” Marc said sternly. “You must. The Jardin des Plantes is just the place.”
10
T hey strolled hand in hand down a walkway lined with tall old trees just leafing out.
“Such a tender green,” Odette murmured. “I love the newness of it.”
“You could design a leaf bra,” Bryan said. “Like the flower-petal one. With a matching thong. All you would need is one leaf for the front.”
“Hmm. Not a bad idea, Bryan.”
“Feel free to steal it.”
Odette groaned. “Oh, do not even say that word. Just thinking about the flower fiasco gives me a headache. I am sure my beautiful design is on millions of bodies by now. Bah.”
“Mmm. Millions of bare-naked women covered in flower petals. Sounds good to me.”
Odette snorted. “You didn’t move away from Krissie’s, I noticed.”
“I couldn’t,” Bryan protested. “I didn’t want to knock the queen of alt-rock flat on her face.”
“It would do her good.”
But she didn’t seem to really care about it, and dropped the subject. “I think perhaps I will not go back to the atelier today.”
“All right with me.”
“And how do you like living with Mark and Achille?”
“They’re very nice and very domestic.”
“Yes, I would agree. But will you come home with me tonight?”
“Sure.”
He couldn’t think of one good reason to say no.
They had come to an area with a more landscaped look and he noticed a sign for the museum of natural history in the near distance. “I didn’t know this was here. How cool is that? Back in California I was talking online to a guy who maintains their shell collection—he was very helpful.”
“Do you want to go in?”
He shook his head. “Seems like a shame to waste the sunshine.”
Odette waved her hand at the sky. “I will call up the clouds.”
He laughed at her gesture. “Why?’
“So that we can do something you want to do. I feel that I am dragging you into my crazy life.”
“I enjoy it,” he said, giving her a light kiss. “And I can take care of myself.” He looked again at the museum.
“You do want to go in. Come,” she said, pulling at his hand. “You can meet your friend, maybe. And we can look at shells. I might find inspiration, and there is plenty of day left.”
“All right.” He really didn’t need persuading.
As they got closer, he looked at the big exhibition banner waving over the entrance. A luminous squid was splashed upon it.
“Les Abysses.” Odette read the sign and looked pleased. “There you are. The ocean awaits you, right in the middle of Paris.”
“I can’t say no.”
They paid the admission and entered, blinking in the cool semi-darkness inside. Odette moved from one display to another, oohing and ahhing over the oddities and monsters of the deep.
“Help me out here,” he said, trying to read an explanatory plaque that was all in French.
“Plongez dans les abysses!” she began in a dramatic voice, “et—”
He gave her butt a friendly squeeze. “I’d rather plonge into you.”
“Shut up.” She went on reading. “Milieux et peuplements aquatiques… oh, it goes on and on.” She had perked up, fired by a schoolgirlish curiosity. “Never mind the blah-blah. What is in here? Is this where to begin, in the shallow water?”
Bryan looked into the tank and glanced at another explanatory plaque that would take him forever to read. “Oysters. Not very exciting. Except to other oysters.”
“Look, the big one is on top of the small one. Are they mating?”
“Not exactly. Oysters don’t do it like that—”
She wasn’t listening. “Love among the mollusks,” she sighed happily. “They too have romantic feelings. Who knew?”
He didn’t feel like disillusioning her, and they moved on.
“Quel horreur!” she exclaimed, looking at a filament-sprouting, goggle-eyed, needle-toothed fish, the star of an undersea film that appeared at the touch of a button. The fish swallowed everything that floated by and then retreated to its lair, looking gloomy.
“Not so inspiring, huh?” Bryan grinned.
“No, it is not.”
They moved through several galleries, and doubled back to the shells. “Ah, such colors,” she sighed appreciatively in front of a gorgeous display. “And the shapes—very sexual.”
He came up behind her and rested his chin on the top of her head, circling his arms around her waist. She relaxed and leaned back against him as he named the ones he was familiar with.
“You know so many. I am impressed.”
“Don’t be. There’s a lot here I’ve never seen. This is an outstanding collection.”
“C’est plus beau.”
“It sure is.” He didn’t mind her appreciating it for purely aesthetic reasons.
“Is your friend around here, Bryan?”
“No, I don’t think so. He’s not really a friend, just someone who helped me with research. He’s probably in the back offices or someplace like that, organizing specimen cases.”
“Playing with beautiful shells. What a wonderful job.”
Bryan chuckled. “It’s work, like anything else.”
“And I am having a very good time, running away from mine.” She looked up at him and in another second they got wrapped up in a kiss that went on for a while. There weren’t very many visitors over this way, so there weren’t kids staring when they came up for air.
“Ah,” she sighed. “I wish we could hop on a plane and go collect our own on a beach far away.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he said absently, smoothing back her hair and giving her a few more kisses on her cheek.
“Would you really go?”
“Huh?”
“We could take a long weekend in Martinique. Or St. Barts. Or Dominica. Such a pretty island and not overcrowded.”
“Well, now. I have to go home eventually.”
“It was just a thought,” she said lightly.
Bryan had a feeling she wanted him to respond with more enthusiasm. But he wasn’t ready to step into the whirlwind of her life, as amazing as it was.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll treat you to something even better when we get to your house. You won’t have to pack. You won’t even have to leave your bed.”
“I can already imagine it,” she said. “Damask roses, scented candles …”
She leaned over and lit the last of five pillar candles, arranged in a circle around a vase of full-blown hothouse roses. Their mingled scents were subtle, wafting through the room on the slight breeze coming in the open window.
The evening was warm and he’d stripped down to jeans soon enough. Just padding around on Odette’s thick carpets was a pleasure. They’d bought the roses on the way, and eaten at a bistro, which was a good thing, because there wasn’t much in the fridge besides several bottles of the world’s most expensive champagne in case they got thirsty.
He felt very much at home.
And Odette Gaillard had one hell of a home. He’d gotten a better look at the art on the walls and the combination of designer furniture and flea market finds. She really had a great eye—no surprise there.
Yeah, her place beat his place all to hell.
He ran a hand over the armrest of the clear Lucite armchair with the roses embedded in it. Not the kind of thing you’d stretch out in at the end of the day, but it was growing on him.
Bryan decided against sitting in it. Standing and watching her light the candles in that sex goddess outfit gave his erection more room to lengthen.
She was in nothing but black lace, a retro outfit from the 1950s that was doing nice things for his dick. The bra cups were seamed to a provocative point and the lace panties were lined with satin for modesty’s sake.
There was something about the incredibly retro idea of modesty itself that turned him on to the max.
He wanted to take his sweet time about getting her naked. Revealing every inch of Odette’s naked beauty nice and slow. Just looking at her thighs above the tops of her stockings was making him hot.
The garters themselves were a trip, their nipple-like bumps pressed through metal clasps and snapped into gossamer silk. She let him watch her put her stockings on, but she hadn’t let him touch her.
And oh my God, the high heels she had on.
Spiked. Very low cut. Plenty o’ toe cleavage. They did fantastic things for her legs. Shoes for shoe-worshippers. Bryan didn’t classify himself as one, but he understood that heels like that were made to be worn in bed.
He wasn’t sure where to start.
Odette straightened and blew out the match. Her lips pouted, red and slick.
Uh-huh. The head of his cock would fit nicely into that plump circle of moist flesh.
He let his eyes run all over her when she turned around.
Unbelievable.
How come the best get-your-freak-on underwear was from the 1950s, back when women weren’t supposed to enjoy sex? Temptation had to have been much more … tempting once upon a time.
“What are you thinking?”
The ultimate female question. At the moment, he didn’t feel like he had to answer. Words weren’t enough, anyway.
Action. He could hear the word in his head like he was directing a movie.
But this was for real.
“I’m thinking about what I want to do to you first. I can’t make up my mind.”
She took the initiative, strolling in front of him with her hands on her hips, and staying just out of reach. When she reached the clear armchair, she sat in it, then spread her legs apart.
Her pose was wanton but she managed to make it elegant.
There was no seeing through those panties. As he watched, her forefinger disappeared under them and she closed her eyes, masturbating delicately as if he wasn’t there at all.
Her private pleasure, on public display for an audience of one, but not her private parts. Interesting.
She used her other hand to press and rub the silk-lined lace against her pussy. Her mouth formed that plump, slick pout again and she pulled her finger out of her panties to stick in her mouth and suck.
Man. Watching this was heaven.
Odette opened her eyes and gave him a dreamy look as she pulled her wet finger out. Then she spread her legs even wider and arched her back, thrusting her hips forward. She gave her stimulated pussy a vigorous spanking, giving a little cry with each blow, punishing it sensually.
Bryan rubbed himself through his jeans, watching what she was doing very intently.
“Stand up,” he sai
d at last.
She did, stretching a little, still elegant, playing a sophisticated slut. Odette went over to her mirror, wiping away most of the lipstick. Preparing for … him. Or so he hoped. Her lips looked swollen, tinged with scarlet. The pout was the same, but there was no lipstick left to smear on his cock or his face. Excellent.
She came back, swinging her hips as only a woman in really high heels could, and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. There was something brazen in her stance. She looked tougher than usual but he liked it.
He slid his hand between the tops of her thighs, stroking the silken skin there until she purred under her breath. Then he tested the lined lace of the panties. Nice and wet.
Odette took his head in her hands and kissed him feverishly. Little by little, she moved down, pressing hot kisses to his neck, bare chest, against his fly, and ended up on the floor.
She got on all fours, high heels still on. Her ass was cupped and firmly held by the gorgeous panties, and her breasts fell forward into the pointed cups of the bra, almost overflowing them.
He walked around her, his eyes devouring the sight of her in this submissive position.
Then he stood over her, straddling her so that he faced her ass. He bent down and reached into her panties, roughly squeezing the confined flesh and stimulating her.
He pulled his hands out, having noticed an interesting feature of the panties: a nearly invisible zipper running down the back seam.
Easy to undo. She was a few seconds away from bare-bottom discipline and she seemed to know it. He brought his legs closer to her body, pressing them against her waist and felt her tremble.
Odette was into this.
He reached down and unzipped her panties. The round globes of her ass bore the imprint of the silk seams. The thin red marks in the white softness of her skin excited him.
“You want a spanking, don’t you?”
“Oui, m’sieu. I need one. I crave your firm hand.”
So he was her m’sieu. A man with no name. And she was anonymous, her face unseen, but the most vulnerable parts of her on full display.
Bryan, forgetting about everything but what she’d just said, gave her a good one. His hand stung when he was done, the palm red as her bottom.