French Kissing: Season One

by Harper Bliss

Another one of those surprise statements and Nadia feared she might suffer a heart attack. The guard she’d put up two nights earlier when she’d stormed off started to come down a bit. Juliette Barbier was a woman of many words, but hardly ever words like these.

  Nadia sat down in her favourite spot in the sofa. “I’m not leaving you. I just need you to make some changes.” She looked idly around for a glass of wine, but Juliette hadn’t had the chance to pour her one. “And I need you to understand some hard truths about us.”

  “I do and I will.” As if reading her mind, or perhaps to win time, Juliette reached for the bottle of red and the opener on the tray next to the coffee table. Her fingers trembled when she tried to fit the opening of the bottle opener around the neck of the bottle.

  Nadia held out her hands. “I’ll do it.” She could clearly see that Juliette was in a right state, but she still needed to hear the words, without having to put them in Juliette’s mouth herself.

  “I, uh, I just need to stir the meat. I’ll be right back.”

  Nadia watched her partner flee into the kitchen. She wore day-off clothes. Jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. No shoes or socks. Her bare feet slapped onto the hardwood floor. Her reddish blonde hair was pushed up into a loose bun at the back of her head. No matter how fragile the state of her heart, Juliette Barbier always looked to die for. But Nadia had made enough sacrifices.

  She served them both a large glass of Cabernet and waited for Juliette to return from the kitchen. At least she had remembered what her favourite dish was, despite not having made the time to prepare it for her in years.

  Juliette sat down in the one-seater opposite from where Nadia was sitting. “I turned off the stove. It should be ready.”

  “Let’s talk first.” Nadia appreciated the fact that Juliette had spent hours in the kitchen, but she was hardly hungry. Her stomach was in knots, not just because their relationship was in such a rocky place, but also because of the emotional distress displayed on Juliette’s face. Juliette, who was always in control and always knew what to say. It was hard seeing her that way. Hard, but necessary.

  Juliette nodded. “I know I attach too much importance to my work and I’ve neglected our relationship. And you.” Her right index finger frantically rubbed against her left thumb while she spoke. “I know I need to make changes, but if you could just, huh, make a few suggestions so I know I’m on the right track.”

  Nadia shook her head. “No. I’m not going to tell you what to do and have it come back to bite me in the ass later. That’s not how this is going to work.”

  “I’ll work less hours. I’ll cook—”

  “How?” Nadia could see Juliette’s frustration levels rise dangerously high. “How will you work less hours? What is your concrete plan?”

  “I don’t know. I—”

  “You’re desperate, Jules. You’d say anything right now, but you haven’t thought it through. Not really. You’re just vaguely telling me what you think I want to hear. It’s not enough. It’s not change. It’s just more words. I’ve had enough of false promises.”

  “Of course I’m desperate. You said you didn’t want to see me for a while. You left home. You left me here all alone without a clue of what to do or what it possibly could be that I did so wrong all of a sudden.”

  The tightness was back in Nadia’s chest. She wondered how many times they would go on this merry-go-round. She could leave Juliette to stew on her own a bit more, but clearly she would never reach the extremely logical conclusion—from Nadia’s point of view—by herself.

  “My job is important too. We save lives, for heaven’s sake. We heal sick people. All you and Claire do is make companies look better than they are.”

  Juliette leaned forward in her seat, her eyes drawn into slits. “You keep hinting that this is about our jobs. And yes, you’re busier than before, and sure, I should make an effort to be here for you more, but I refuse to believe that it’s our professional lives driving us apart.” She tapped a finger to her chest. “The despair I feel in here. The pure dread that has settled in my heart, it’s not because we’ve been avoiding each other, it’s why.”

  Nadia had seldom seen Juliette so emotional. Her stomach tightened, but Juliette wasn’t finished yet.

  “I’m not saying you stopped loving me, but your love is different. You’ve found something else to care for, hundreds of other people. I don’t come first anymore.” Juliette’s voice broke, and with it, Nadia’s heart in a thousand pieces.

  “You’re wrong, babe. You’re so wrong.” Nadia shot up out of the sofa and hurried to Juliette’s side. The first contact of their skin lodged itself like an electric current in her flesh, coursing through it so swiftly it made Nadia dizzy.

  Nadia had made mistakes, but she’d never stopped loving Juliette.

  JULIETTE

  “I miss you.” Juliette couldn’t keep the trembling in her legs under control. They shook next to Nadia’s, who put a hand on her knee and changed everything, just for a split second.

  Juliette turned to face her partner and she saw the love, the years of commitment and companionship. Their life, together. She stared into Nadia’s dark eyes and suddenly the anguish in the pit of her stomach was eclipsed by a surge of pure lust.

  Perhaps, when words failed, this was what they needed.

  Eyes wide open, she inched closer, slanting her head. Her heart thudded frantically out of fear Nadia would pull back. If she did, what then? Juliette erased the possibility from her mind and pressed her lips to Nadia’s. To her relief, they opened instantly, inviting Juliette in.

  They hadn’t touched like this in such a long time, it almost felt new to Juliette. Her hands disappeared in Nadia’s voluptuous mane of hair as she drew her near, as close as she could possibly get.

  “Fuck me,” Nadia whispered in her ear.

  “What?” Juliette pulled back slightly.

  “Fuck me.” Nadia’s lips were parted, her breath ragged.

  “You never say that. I mean, this is not—”

  Nadia gripped Juliette’s cheeks between her palms. “Stop thinking, just do it.” If they could have, her eyes would have blazed fire.

  Nadia was always the more intuitive one, the one to go with the flow. She was also—always—the one on top. Not tonight then.

  Something new started glowing beneath Juliette’s skin. She pushed Nadia down into the sofa, their gazes firmly locked. Before straddling her, Juliette pulled her jumper over her head and tossed it aside. When Nadia’s cupped palms reached for her breasts, she swatted them away.

  “You asked for it.” A grin curved on her lips. “You’re going to get it.”

  Juliette unclasped her bra and hurtled it somewhere onto the floor of their living room. She rested her hands on the back seat of the sofa, behind Nadia’s head, so her chest was inches away from Nadia’s mouth. Her nipples perked up instantly at the thought of her lover’s lips so close by.

  “Don’t you dare touch me.” She was merely giving Nadia a taste of her own medicine, seeing as she was usually the one playing games like this.

  “I won’t.” Nadia’s voice came out a hoarse whisper.

  Juliette angled her body so her nipples ran across Nadia’s cheeks, leaving her gasping for air. She’d felt so out of control in their relationship of late, that she wanted nothing more than to take control now. Even if, in the bedroom, control was more Nadia’s domain.

  Juliette leaned back and started to unbutton Nadia’s beige linen blouse. She’d bought it for her last year, before things had started to go sour.

  Running her fingers over Nadia’s bra-clad breasts, at first, she almost felt as if she needed to re-familiarise herself with them. They’d gone from sleeping stark naked through the seasons, to gradually covering themselves in more and more sleep wear in the past six months. Juliette should have paid more attention, should have seen the small changes as significant enough to question them.

  She curved her arms around Nadia’s back and un
did the lock of her bra, quickly following the action by guiding Nadia’s blouse and bra off her torso. Nadia’s breasts were heavy and dark-nippled, made for worshipping. In the beginning of their affair, back in the day when Juliette still ran regular 10K races, Nadia always refused to go jogging with her. “Not with these,” she’d say, pointing at her large bosom. So she stayed behind and cooked for Juliette, who ran so fast—and soon after stopped altogether—just so she could rest her head on Nadia’s chest sooner.

  Nadia’s flesh was soft and inviting, then and now, and Juliette ran the back of her fingers over her breasts, trapping her nipples, coaxing a guttural groan from her partner’s mouth, before pushing herself off the sofa. Hooking her hands behind Nadia’s knees, she pulled her down. With two fingers, she unbuttoned Nadia’s trousers and yanked them down.

  “Stretch out on the sofa.” Juliette barely recognised her own voice. While Nadia obeyed her order, she slipped out of her jeans, leaving them a crumpled mess on the floor.

  The sofa was wide enough for Juliette to be able to flank Nadia. She lay down next to her, pressing her pale flesh into Nadia’s warm curves. She hadn’t felt so at home in a long time.

  Her fingers stole over Nadia’s skin, lightly skimming, until they stopped at her nipples. With the tip of her index finger, Juliette circled Nadia’s pert nipple, teasing gently.

  “This is not what you want, is it?” She whispered in Nadia’s ear, her nose hidden in her thick black hair. In a flash, she pinched Nadia’s nipple hard between her thumb and previously teasing index finger. “This is what you want.”

  Nadia cupped Juliette’s fingers with her hand, squeezing tight. She turned her head so their eyes met. “Fuck me.” Even when she didn’t appear in charge, she was. “Now.” She guided Juliette’s hand from her breast, over her belly, to her panties. Her eyes sparkled, the determination in them impossible to ignore.

  Juliette had missed Nadia’s commands—silent and other ones. So in control of every second of her life in the light of day, she needed someone like Nadia to balance her out at night. To take the reins and bring her back.

  Juliette briefly toyed with the idea of defying Nadia’s order, but, even if, somewhere in the depths of her soul, she wanted to, she couldn’t. That’s not how it worked between them.

  She slid her fingers under the waistband of Nadia’s knickers, meeting her wiry, curly hairs there, and lower, until she reached the velvet heat of her pussy.

  “I’m so wet for you, babe.” The severity in Nadia’s eyes had made way for longing. Nadia started tugging her panties off and Juliette gladly helped her. As soon as their hands hovered over Nadia’s body again, Nadia grabbed hold of Juliette’s wrist and steered her hand between her legs.

  Juliette bent down to kiss Nadia full on the lips as the tip of her finger slipped between her moist folds. Nadia let go of Juliette’s hand as her muscles tensed with anticipation.

  Damp heat enveloped Juliette’s finger as she thrust deep. The groans escaping Nadia’s mouth and the way she curled one arm around her neck was all she needed to feel whole again. She quickly added another finger while keeping a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts.

  “Oh, chérie,” Nadia hummed. “More. Harder.” The stamina and patience she displayed when fucking Juliette always seemed to go out of the window as soon as Juliette slipped a finger inside. As if they always only had a certain amount of time and ninety percent of it had to be spent on Juliette, Nadia’s climax always coming quick and hard—and last.

  Juliette added another finger, spreading Nadia wide, feeling her from the inside, loving her. Every time she went deep, she let her thumb flick over Nadia’s engorged clit, a little more urgently with every stroke.

  She kissed Nadia again as she felt the walls of her pussy starting to contract around her fingers, so hard it squeezed them together tightly. She breathed her in as she came on her fingers, trapped her moans in her mouth as Nadia gave herself up to Juliette’s touch.

  She hadn’t expected the tears. The soft sobbing as Juliette slid her fingers out and covered Nadia with as much of her body as she could, that quickly transformed into a stuttering heave.

  “I’m sorry,” Nadia said, her cheeks wet against Juliette’s. “I’m so sorry.”

  STEPH

  “How cozy,” Dominique Laroche said, looking around Steph’s shoebox-sized studio. “Definitely discreet.”

  Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to invite Dominique to her flat, but what with the recent discovery of certain events from the députée’s past, Steph didn’t feel at ease inviting her to a restaurant. Mostly because, and she’d never considered this to become a problem in her professional life, she had a bit of a reputation herself.

  “Do you cook here?” Dominique’s eyes rested on the tiny corner kitchenette that barely had room for a microwave oven.

  “Dinner will be served soon.” Steph gestured at the Ikea sofa she’d had for ten years and suddenly felt self-conscious about everything. Bringing back someone half-tipsy to her place in the middle of the night was an entirely different affair from inviting in one of the country’s most promising politicians. “Please, sit. Can I offer you a glass of wine first?”

  “Sure, any red will do.” Dominique sat down with an amused smile on her face. “What’s that sound?” She looked around, her eyes landing on the door separating the bathroom from the kitchen.

  “Oh, that’s my cat. I thought it best to lock him in there while—”

  “Nonsense.” She got up and strutted towards the bathroom, which was only two steps away from the living area. “May I?”

  Steph nodded, relieved to set Pierrot free from his prison.

  As soon as Dominique opened the door only an inch, he slipped out, let out a disgruntled meow, and rubbed himself against her calves. He’d found his saviour.

  “What an adorable little thing. We have one just like this at home, and a ginger as well.” Dominique squatted next to Pierrot and scratched him behind the ear.

  Friends for life already.

  Steph had just deposited two glasses of wine on the small coffee table when the intercom buzzed. “That must be dinner.”

  While Dominique settled in the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand and Pierrot in her lap, Steph paid the pizza guy and presented her with a slice of pepperoni.

  “I hope that little dalliance in your past hasn’t left you a vegetarian.” If Dominique didn’t eat meat, she would have known, having spent the better part of the past week familiarising herself with every detail of her life she could find.

  “Classy.” The grin on Dominique’s face betrayed that she didn’t mind the student-like vibe of the evening too much. “I love pepperoni.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Steph handed her a plate and a napkin and they sat munching in silence for a few minutes.

  “So,” Dominique said after a while. “You know about my past, now let’s talk about the present.” She found Steph’s eyes. “And the future, I hope.”

  “Tell me everything.” Steph leaned back, unprepared for the bombshell Dominique Laroche was about to drop on her.

  “My husband is having an affair. He claims to love her. I want a divorce.”

  A million thoughts collided in Steph’s brain. She wanted to call Claire. Should she offer a shoulder to cry on? So that was why the politician had hired an expensive PR agency.

  “Okay.” Steph had to swallow before she could continue. “Well, thank you for being so straightforward.” You could have said so in that first meeting we had at Barbier & Cyr.

  “I know I should have told you sooner, but—and you can blame the political side of me—I wanted to feel you out a bit first. See what you were made of. You pleasantly surprised me yesterday. Now all my cards are on the table.”

  “That’s it? No more secrets?”

  “Isn’t that enough for you?” Delivering the news had wiped most of Dominique’s killer smile off her face.

  “Oh yes.” Steph had trouble staying calm. “I’m going
to need the details, no matter how painful for you. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re the first person I’ve told. It didn’t come as a surprise. I’d been suspecting for a while, but I confronted him three weeks ago. He didn’t even bother denying it.”

  Steph considered the PR nightmare this could become, especially in light of next year’s elections. Dominique’s cheating husband really couldn’t have picked a worse time. “Will this be an amicable separation?”

  “It has to be. We have two children.”

  “Of course.” Steph dreaded asking the next question. “What about the other woman?”

  “A colleague. A fellow architect. She’s a professional woman, not out to get me.” She interjected with a deep sigh. “Just my husband.”

  “Are you all right?” Steph’s mind had been so bombarded with questions, she had forgotten to ask the only one that mattered.

  “Ever since my popularity surged after the last election, a rift has been growing.” She let her head fall back against the back rest of the sofa, seemingly drained of any fighting spirit. “Not a lot of men can handle having a successful politician as a wife. I thought Philippe was different, but clearly, he’s not that special.”

  Steph scooted a little closer, unsure whether to give Dominique’s knee a consoling pat or not. “We don’t have to talk about all the details now. How about some more wine?”

  “Splendid idea.”

  Steph grabbed the bottle and refilled their half-empty glasses. “I will have to tell my bosses about this, if we want to come up with the best strategy possible.”

  “I know. I just couldn’t bear waltzing into your office last Monday and telling everyone my husband had found someone better.”

  “I’ll take care of it and report back to you.”

  With a limp wrist, Dominique brought her glass to Steph’s and clinked rims. “I knew I could trust you.”

  CLAIRE

  “She’s the hottest, most exciting politician this country has had in decades and her husband is cheating on her?” Claire had been in an excellent mood this morning, with the prospect of a rare date with a hot woman in her immediate future, and Juliette seemed to have patched things up with Nadia judging by the grin on her face when she had walked in earlier. Things were looking up, until this meeting.