by Harper Bliss
Not so bad yourself. ;-) Claire typed and put her phone aside. She was glad she was drunk, otherwise she wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all.
STEPH
“I think you should meet Philippe before the vote,” Dominique said.
Steph was barely awake, but Dominique, as usual on a weekday, was already up and about, freshly washed and dressed, ready to go.
It was a bit much to take on an empty stomach. “What?”
“Now that he knows, he wants to meet you.” Dominique perched on the edge of the bed. “It’s only fair.”
“Fair?” Steph rubbed her eyes and pushed herself up. Glancing up at Dominique, she figured there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her, but still, having shied away from relationships for years had allowed her to avoid all sorts of occasions for awkwardness like the one Dominique was suggesting now.
“You’ve spent time with his children. It’s natural that he wants to get to know you. I basically bombarded him with the news before I left for Juan-les-Pins. He’s had some time to process now. He’s a modern man. By which I mean he’s not like my father.”
“What about Lisa and Didier?” Steph hoisted herself up a bit more, covering her entire body with the sheet—not convinced this was a conversation to be had with naked body parts on display.
“We’ve talked about it. They’re too young. Either they’ll grasp it of their own accord—perhaps Lisa will soon—or we’ll tell them later.”
“Don’t they need clarity or something? For things to be explained and made clear.”
“They do, but I’m thinking this might just be a bit too confusing for them right now. They’re only just coming to grips with the divorce. It’s all a bit much.”
“Whatever I can do to help.” Steph reached out her hand, waiting for Dominique to put hers in it. “What was his reaction when you told him you’d gone back to pussy, by the way?”
“I didn’t really give him a whole lot of opportunity to react at the time, but I presume he must have been quite shocked. It would be easier for him if he could put a face to the name Stéphanie Mathis. Make it more concrete and graspable.”
“Set it up and I’ll be there.” Steph tugged at Dominique’s arm. “It’s such a shame you’ve already put all this effort in getting dressed.”
“Why’s that?” Dominique shot her a crooked grin while shaking her head.
“Because you’re going to have to do it all over again after this.” Steph cradled her hands around Dominique’s neck and pulled her close for a kiss.
“No, no, I’m already running late,” Dominique protested. “I really don’t have time.”
“It’s the only currency you have with me, baby,” Steph whispered. “Besides, you wiped me out so completely last night, I didn’t get a chance to do what I had planned.”
“That’s okay, really. It always needs to be so quid pro quo with you lesbians. It’s not—”
Steph brought her fingers to Dominique’s lips. “It’s not political, babe. The more you go on about it, the less time we have left.” Steph felt Dominique’s lips stretch into a smile against her fingers. She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. She never could. One of the main reasons why they were in this situation, discussing meeting her ex-husband and telling her children. And, if anything, it had convinced Dominique to go against the MLR’s conservative directive to vote against same-sex marriage. Steph hadn’t felt this loved in years.
“I guess an emergency meeting with my PR advisor is as good a reason as any to be late. It is August after all. The country’s basically asleep.”
“A good politician always has an excuse.” Steph pulled Dominique on top of her, crumpling her pristine blouse in the process. “And you’re the best.”
“What did you have in mind for breakfast, Stéphanie?” Dominique smiled down at her, causing pangs of lust to crash through Steph’s flesh at high velocity.
“Some juice, I guess.” Steph pulled her close for a kiss. Dominique’s lips tasted of lipstick and Steph already anticipated the moment she’d look at herself in the mirror later, her mouth smeared with traces of Dominique’s make-up, evidence of their love clinging to her skin.
Steph started coaxing Dominique’s body off of her. As much as she had come to enjoy Dominique being on top, she wouldn’t be this morning.
“I’ll let you take your own clothes off to minimise the damage,” Steph said, once she sat on her knees—stark naked—on the bed. “But remember, the clock is ticking.” She tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist.
Dominique seemingly could not get her blouse off fast enough. Steph knew it wasn’t because she had a meeting to go to after, but because she couldn’t wait for Steph to touch her the way she’d promised. So much had changed between them and Steph’s insecurities had started to evaporate. Because when Dominique looked at her with that unmistakable glimmer of longing in her glance, Steph knew that she was loved.
She waited for Dominique to get fully undressed and stretch herself out on the bed, like the pillow princess she all but was.
“Give it to me, baby,” Dominique joked, trying to sound like a rapper on the radio.
It coaxed a wave of laughter mixed with endearment to swirl inside of Steph. “I’d best shut you up.” She draped her body over Dominique’s.
Their kiss was instantly deep—instantly touching Steph in that spot deep down where pleasure ignites. When Steph broke the lip lock and started kissing her way down Dominique’s neck, Dominique tugged her head upwards and stared into her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said. “I know it’s not easy being with me.” But in that moment, it felt like a breeze for Steph.
“Thank me later,” she said. “After this.” With that, she let her glance drop to Dominique’s body. It wasn’t perfect like the bodies of so many other women Steph had bedded, not kept toned by hours in the gym, not free of a bit of padding around the hips, but this was Dominique’s body. Steph always made a point of kissing the crooked stretch mark on her side and that dimple on her thigh. It was these little marks that made her different, made her stand out from the other, meaningless ones that had come before.
Steph kissed a quick, moist path down Dominique’s skin, not wanting to linger too long. She had her own job to get to as well. But, as always, she took the time to savour the moment when Dominique spread wide for her. It never got old. A constantly renewed invitation for Steph to enter.
Steph didn’t waste time on gentle kisses on Dominique’s inner thighs, instead she pushed her nose in Dominique’s neatly trimmed pubic hair and let her tongue twist around until Dominique’s muscles tensed. With broad strokes, she licked up and down, just to make her pussy wet enough. She wanted—needed—to be inside. To feel her there. Craved the intimacy of it.
“Oh, baby,” Dominique groaned as Steph let her tongue circle around her clit one last time. Steph pushed herself up from between Dominique’s legs, let her eyes roam across her glistening pussy lips, before taking position next to Dominique’s outstretched body.
Her gaze now on Dominique’s face, her body glued to her side, she let her fingers dance along Dominique’s opening. She pushed two fingers inside before Dominique had a chance to beg, her body going rigid again, tension coiling in every muscle.
Steph tried to look into Dominique’s eyes but they had fallen shut. Her face, when on the way to ecstasy, was wondrous enough. Mouth half-open, tiny wrinkles crinkling on her temples, her head tossed back into the pillows, exposing her neck. Steph didn’t need anything else but to know that the reason why Dominique was experiencing this intense pleasure was all because of her.
Leaning on one elbow, she drove her fingers deep inside. Two for a few minutes, but quickly adding another, spreading her wide, feeling as much of her as possible, locating that spot inside of her.
When Dominique’s eyes shot open, Steph knew she had found it. She felt a smile slip across her lips as she applied more pressure with one finger, while keeping a small thrusting motion wit
h her other fingers.
“Jesus, babe…” Dominique pinned her eyes on Steph while the walls of her pussy clamped themselves around Steph’s fingers with forceful spams. Dominique’s one hand had found a muscle on the back of Steph’s shoulder, her nails scratching hard. Steph would wear any wounds as badges of honour.
Steph kept moving, only tiny flicks of her fingers needed now, judging by how crazy they seemed to drive Dominique, how they contorted her face into a mask of abandon and joy.
Then the contractions around Steph’s fingers became more pronounced and she felt a gush of warm liquid pool around her wrist.
“Oh fuck.” Dominique sounded shocked and only briefly let herself fall back into the pillows before pushing herself up. “What—what happened?”
Steph let her fingers slip from Dominique’s pussy and stared at the puddle of wetness between her legs in disbelief. No matter how ridiculous, a burst of pride swelled in her chest. “Looks like you came, babe,” she said. “A bit more than usual.” She turned her face back to Dominique and looked into her stunned eyes.
“That has never happened—” Dominique shook her head. “I can’t really describe it. I’ve never—”
“It’s okay.” Steph pushed her down and kissed her on the lips. “You’re a squirter, there’s no shame in that.” Her body convulsed with giggles as she poured it over Dominique’s sweaty flesh.
“How the hell am I supposed to contribute to governing this country after that?” Dominique whispered in her ear. “This is almost a matter of national security.”
“Maybe you should call in sick,” Steph said. “Tell Madame Moreau you’re doing extensive research on gay marriage, more particularly the lesbian kind and the physical effects of two women getting to know each other better.” She kissed Dominique on the nose. “Or just tell her the truth and say your apartment has flooded.”
JULIETTE
Juliette looked over the résumés the agency had sent her. She automatically discarded all females that even remotely resembled Nadia or Sybille. Ideally, she’d hire a man as her new assistant, just like Claire, who had lucked out with Fred. Then another matter crossed her mind. Perhaps, instead of looking for a new assistant, she should spend her time training a junior, someone who could truly take over from her when she was absent—if she was really serious about cutting down her hours. Someone she could trust to step in on her behalf. Someone like Steph.
Either way, she’d still need an assistant. She made a mental note to discuss this with Claire later, after she and Nadia had had more time to evaluate their life and the choices they had made. For better or for worse, her short break-up with Nadia had changed her. Opened her eyes. After fourteen years of working sixty hour weeks—in a country that somehow prided itself on promoting thirty-five hour work weeks, even when the economy was going down the drain—and investing all her time in building Barbier & Cyr the way other people devoted their life to raising children, Juliette had had enough.
Maybe she was lucky to experience a high level of job satisfaction and to be her own boss but, truth be told, the way things at the firm had taken a turn for the dramatic of late, had made her question everything. Had made her focus on what really mattered. She had driven Nadia in the arms of the neurosurgeon. She had attached more importance to her clients’ needs than to her own wife’s. Worst of all, she’d come to think of it as normal.
The true breaking point had been the look in Nadia’s eyes when she’d turned up at their place that night. When her own partner had displayed nothing but contempt and disgust for her, even for a brief moment in their long history together, that had crushed her. In the end, it didn’t even matter whose fault it was. They’d gone off the rails, somehow—because of the years they had loved each other—had gotten back on, but Juliette was no longer pleased with the direction the train was headed in. More work. More clients. More drama.
She needed something else. Not more of the same, but a drastic change. In the quiet moments of August at Barbier & Cyr, Juliette had taken the time to think. To just let it all wash over her. The guilt. The pain she’d caused. What she believed was missing. She wouldn’t be dashing off to an adoption agency and start filling in papers, but she would consider her options.
She shoved the résumés to the side and got up to fetch her own cup of coffee. Outside of her office, Sybille’s desk was empty and, in that unguarded moment, Juliette couldn’t help but wonder how she was really doing. For all she knew, Claire could be making up the news of her success at Marc Dujardin’s firm—just to keep the peace.
Juliette found simple satisfaction in making her own coffee, even in answering her own phone and managing her calendar. It reminded her of the time when Barbier & Cyr consisted of just her and Claire. Two friends with a dream. With the same goal. Profit before personal happiness. Had they been too ruthless? Too selfish? Attached too much importance to the wrong things?
Perhaps Claire was right. Maybe Juliette was suffering from an early midlife crisis. But she wasn’t interested in a sports car, nor in trading in Nadia for a younger model—because look how that had turned out.
She had other, more profound, matters on her mind.
NADIA
“We need Dievart,” Doctor Andres said, “and we need her now.”
“Surely there are other—” Nadia tried to protest.
“She’s the best and she’s close-by. I’ll contact her myself. I need another pair of extremely skilled hands for this surgery, Nadia.” He stood shuffling from one foot to the other in her office, making his case. “I don’t see what the problem is? We’ve invited her to Saint-Vincent before. I know she wasn’t able to save the patient, but her chances were slim going in. Doctor Dievart really was our last resort then, but you can’t hold that against her.”
“I don’t.” Nadia held up her hands. If only the doctor standing in front of her knew where else Doctor Dievart’s hands had ventured. “I know she’s the best and I trust your judgement. Set it up.” She tried hard to suppress the sigh that came with accepting the doctor’s request.
Doctor Andres pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while almost bowing reverently. “Thank you.” He gave her the thumbs-up and rushed out of her office.
He’d be trying to get Doctor Marie Dievart to Saint-Vincent for surgery the day after tomorrow. Nadia checked her calendar to see if she could take the day off, but she had a budget meeting scheduled with too many other parties to cancel.
The hospital was big enough to stay out of her way. At any rate, she’d have to tell Juliette. She reached for her phone and dialled Juliette’s number—unable to completely drum out the memory of Sybille answering Juliette’s phone.
Juliette picked up after the first ring.
“Still quiet, huh?” Nadia said.
“I was just about to call you. Guess what?” Juliette sounded excited.
“What?” It bought Nadia some time before having to deliver the news.
“Claire’s going on a date tonight.” Juliette’s voice nearly exploded through the speaker of her phone.
“Really? With Margot?” Nadia had spotted Margot earlier in the hallway and she hadn’t come across as if things were looking up—in fact they had avoided each other expertly.
“No, silly. With this woman from a dating app. Apparently they were chatting last night.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Hey, remember how we met? You just never know…” Juliette’s voice trailed off on the other end of the line. “I’m just happy she won’t be sitting home alone sulking for once. They’re meeting at Le Comptoir after work and Steph will be there, discreetly having a drink, to break things up if needed.”
“Another busy day at the office, I see,” Nadia joked.
“It’s August. The only month of the year we have time for drama.”
Speaking of, Nadia thought. “Listen, babe, I need to tell you something.”
“Sure.” Juliette sounded so carefree. Nadia hated to spoil her
mood.
“There’s no easy way to say this. The hospital needs a neurosurgical consult from Marie Dievart. She’s coming here the day after tomorrow.” Nadia took a deep breath. It wasn’t so much the fact that Marie Dievart would physically be there, but how much she reminded Nadia of what she had allowed to happen that night.
Silence on the other end of the line. Nadia waited patiently.
“Oh,” was all Juliette said after a few empty seconds.
“I probably won’t even have to see her, but I wanted you to know.”
“Okay.” Another icy silence.
“I’m sorry. There’s just no other way.” Nadia’s voice grew high-pitched.
“I understand, babe. It’s work.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“I have to go now. I do have some meetings scheduled.” All the excitement seemed to have drained from Juliette’s voice.
“Sure. Wish Claire good luck from me. And, babe, I love you.” Nadia rested her forehead in the palm of her hand.
“Me too.” Juliette hung up, but Nadia stayed immobile for an instant, the beep of the phone ringing in her ear.
CLAIRE
At Le Comptoir, Claire made sure she had a table with a view. From the corner of her eye, she could see Steph, who sat a few tables down from her. They had agreed that, when Steph needed to step in and rescue Claire from a disastrous date, Claire would drop her purse. If she didn’t give any signs of acute boredom and being in need of urgent saving within half an hour, Steph would leave and let her pursue the mysterious Sarah in peace—without lookers-on. Claire was nervous enough already, she didn’t need Steph’s scrutinising, expert glance on her for the entire evening.
She’d ordered a cosmo and sipped from it eagerly, while wondering if Margot leaving her had actually caused her to lose her mind. But Steph and Juliette had encouraged her all day long. Telling her this was an excellent first step to recovery—while Claire wasn’t even entirely sure Margot was someone she wanted to recover from. By the time her watch read seven-thirty Claire was getting started on her third drink of the night.