by Harper Bliss
“How about they stay over on Wednesdays? They can have breakfast at the Elysée with all the pomp and circumstance. You can even take them to school on Thursday morning yourself sometimes. They would love that.”
Dominique shook her head. “My security people would have a fit.”
“Then let them have a fit, and after they’ve recovered, they can figure it out. That’s what they’re there for.”
“I’ll definitely think about it.” Steph would love for Didier and Lisa to stay over as well, Dominique thought, if she were to move back home.
“Don’t think too hard. Just do it.”
“You and Angelique want a night off on Wednesdays?” she joked.
Philippe grinned. “I just want what’s best for everyone.” He kept his gaze glued to hers. “What are you going to do about Steph?”
“Get her back, of course. No matter what it takes.”
“Good.” Philippe squeezed her shoulder for a brief moment, then they both turned towards the bed and watched Lisa.
“I’m still staying the night,” Dominique said.
“I know,” Philippe said. “We’ll both stay.”
Camille
On Sunday morning, Camille woke up to the signs of a small hangover. The evening had ended in an abrupt panic, but Steph had texted that Lisa was going to be all right, after which she and Zoya had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Camille turned on her side and looked at Zoya, who was still sleeping. All signs of a hangover seemed to recede as her eyes feasted on Zoya’s pretty face. She wanted to let her sleep in as long as she liked, but the urge to touch her was almost unbearable. She dragged a fingertip over Zoya’s collar bone, hoping Zoya would find true and complete happiness in Paris. The way Steph had rushed off last night to be with Dominique and her child had reminded Camille that she could never live in another country away from her children and her grandchild. She needed to be near them, see them, hug them on a regular basis. If Zoya’s homesickness increased, and became a real problem between them, Camille wouldn’t be able to return the favour of moving to another continent for the sake of love. Her motherly heart was anchored in Paris.
“If you’re waking me up on a Sunday morning,” Zoya said, her eyes still closed, “you’d better make it worth my while.”
“I will, but we have all day, so I think I’ll drive you crazy for a little while first.” Camille leaned in and kissed Zoya on the lips. “And we have leftover curry,” she said after they broke from their kiss. “No need to go out at all today.”
Zoya arched up her eyebrows. “You mean we don’t have any family duties on this glorious Sunday? No child minding? No motherly advice to be dispensed?”
“Flo’s in Brittany with Matthieu’s family. That’s the great thing when your children get married. They acquire in-laws and subsequent obligations.” Camille snickered. The truth was that she hadn’t seen her granddaughter in four full days and she couldn’t wait to hold her in her arms again.
“Well then, we shouldn’t waste a minute of our free time.” Zoya ran a finger up Camille’s belly.
“I think I need some ibuprofen first. My head hurts,” Camille said.
“How about I release some of the natural painkiller oxytocin? I know just the trick.”
“Do you mean to say you’re going to perform a medical procedure on me, nurse Zoya?”
“Hm-mm.” The sound Zoya made came from deep in her throat. “I’ll have to do it naked, though. I seem to have lost my nurse’s uniform somewhere.” She grinned. “Luckily, this kind of procedure is more effective when performed naked.”
“Lucky me, indeed.” Camille smiled down at her. “For having a partner who can kill so many birds with one stone.”
“Speaking of, I still can’t believe I somehow scored an interview with Claire and Juliette. Just like that. As if it was nothing.”
“That’s because they see your greatness, darling. They want a piece of it. From my point of view, it’s perfectly normal.”
“Let’s not go overboard.” Zoya narrowed her eyes.
“Steph has really taken to you. You can’t deny that.”
“I like her too. She pretends to be tough, but there’s something very vulnerable about her. Last night, when she got that call, she looked so lost.”
“But she had friends to take care of her.”
Zoya nodded. “What a great feeling that must be.” She drew her lips into a mischievous smirk. “Now to start my procedure and to make you feel better.”
“Please, I desperately need it,” Camille crooned.
Zoya grinned and leaned in to kiss her. Her tongue darted into Camille’s mouth and stayed there for a deliciously long while. As their lips remained locked, Zoya started toppling Camille over, and lay half on top of her. Camille dragged her fingertips through Zoya’s thick mane of hair, the softness of it so silky and familiar. This woman had become so much to her, and she would do everything she could to make her want to stay. She guessed, that in this moment, the best she could do was kiss her a little while longer—which wasn’t a chore at all.
“Je t’aime,” Camille whispered when they broke from their kiss and she looked Zoya straight in the eye.
“Moi aussi,” Zoya said, and her adorable accent floored Camille once again. There wasn’t one thing she could think of that she didn’t like about Zoya. She had fitted into Camille’s life so seamlessly. As if she was always meant to be there and a place for her had been saved all along.
Zoya kissed Camille’s neck, then skated her soft, moist lips down to Camille’s breasts. She took a nipple into her mouth and gently clasped it between her teeth, then licked it again. Camille couldn’t wait for that tongue to travel down further. But she needed a little more patience. They had all day. A luxuriously lazy Sunday, which was so much more pleasant to spend in the company of the woman she loved. And even though tomorrow was Monday, and would bring with it the challenges at work, Camille could easily block any thoughts of that from her mind. In that professional ordeal also, she had Zoya by her side—and Duflot had decided to mess with the wrong women if he believed his behaviour would go unpunished.
Zoya kissed a path upwards and their lips found each other again, and this time, Camille sank into the kiss even further and drew Zoya as near to her as she could. She wrapped her up in her arms as though she never wanted to let her go again. Camille never thought she would marry again, not after the disaster her first marriage had been, but this person, this woman, she could easily imagine saying I do to, and honouring those vows until eternity.
Zoya’s lips made their way down again, stopping at her nipples, kissing the underside of her breasts, her tongue dipping into Camille’s belly button. When she started kissing Camille’s lower belly, the pulse that had been beating in her clit grew more insistent. Oh, Zoya’s magical tongue there. Soon, it would happen. And not for the first time, Camille wondered how, why and when all her dreams had started to come true. Even dreams she didn’t know she had, like being with this exquisite woman and encountering a happiness so profound, she’d never even believed it could exist. Yet here she lay, with the love of her life draped all over her, planting kiss after delicious kiss on her skin.
Zoya shuffled around a bit until she kneeled between Camille’s legs. Camille glanced at her from under her lashes. The simple sight of this. It made her clit stand a little taller, made her push her hips up simply because she couldn’t control the urge. Zoya buried the flat of her hands underneath Camille’s behind and then, ever so gently, planted a kiss on Camille’s inner thigh. She hadn’t been kidding then when she’d said she was going take her time. Camille had time, but she wasn’t sure her aching clit was aware of this knowledge.
Zoya kept planting featherlight kisses on her inner thighs, but her fingertips dug deep into the soft flesh of Camille’s bottom, indicating that her desire was rising as well.
By the time Zoya finally brought her tongue into play, Camille was curling her own fingers int
o strands of Zoya’s hair, not only to feel even more of a connection, but to make sure Zoya knew how much she was enjoying her attentions.
Zoya dragged the tip of her tongue along Camille’s pussy lips, as though she had all the time in the world—as though it didn’t set off a round of fireworks in Camille’s belly when she did. Between Zoya’s torturous licks, Camille glanced down at her, at how their bodies were enmeshed and, if their skins weren’t different colours, you wouldn’t be able to see where one began and the other ended.
At last, Zoya put her tongue to work, as opposed to all the teasing it had been doing until then. She applied firm licks to Camille’s clit, licks that drove Camille crazy from the get-go. If Zoya kept up this intensity, Camille wouldn’t last very long. Usually, Camille enjoyed the addition of a finger to reach climax, but this morning, perhaps because her body was feeling differently because of the hangover, or because she felt so connected to Zoya, she could sense the tingle of orgasm starting somewhere at the base of her spine already.
Zoya changed tack and swapped the insistent licks for light flicks, but the tingle kept spreading through Camille’s body. Oh Christ. What was Zoya doing to her again? This woman, this fantasy, this dream of a person, who felt very real as her tongue kept stroking Camille, kept darting to and fro. The action was becoming more insistent again and Camille was powerless against the might of Zoya’s tongue, against its prowess and its knowledge of Camille’s preferences, and before Zoya even had the chance to slide a finger inside of her, Camille came, limbs shaking, toes curling, her fingers holding on for dear life to Zoya’s wavy hair.
When she came to, she slid her hands to Zoya’s cheeks, and tilted her head upward. Camille shot her a smile.
“Did my treatment work?” Zoya asked.
Camille could only smile.
Aurore
After Solange had confirmed that she was free for dinner that night, Aurore had kept the possibility that she would probably cancel at the last minute in her head. But Solange hadn’t called back and Aurore’s bell chimed at 8 p.m. sharp. This was the second time Solange had come to her apartment and as she buzzed the chief of staff in, she hoped tonight’s visit would end better than the previous one.
When she opened the front door, Solange presented her with the same kind of wine—Saint-Emilion—she had poured when Aurore had ended up at Solange’s.
“How very thoughtful,” Aurore said and, suppressing a wide smile, pressed a soft kiss to Solange’s cheek.
“Why not give a person what you know they’ll enjoy?” Solange replied.
“Why not indeed.” Aurore stretched out her arm and welcomed Solange into her home, which she had tidied up a little bit, but not too much, because tidying up simply wasn’t one of Aurore’s favourite pastimes on a Sunday afternoon. “I’m so glad you could make it. How’s Lisa?” she asked.
“She’s going to be fine, but Dominique has been glued to her side at the hospital since last night. When she called me today she actually said the words ‘We don’t spend enough time with our loved ones’, so I took it as a sign to do something relaxing tonight.” Solange smiled and sat in the chair she had sat in the other night.
“I’ll make sure to help you relax then. Even though I believe we have some business to discuss. But that can wait until later.”
Solange shook her head. “No, let’s get the business part out of the way first. Otherwise, how can we truly relax?”
“Can I pour you a glass of this delicious wine first?” Aurore was surprised at Solange’s straightforwardness.
“Please.” Solange treated her to a crooked grin. What was she up to? Had she acquired some new ammunition to spice up their negotiations? Or was she, perhaps, just pleased to be there? Either way, Aurore was pretty sure Solange wasn’t going to like the plan Aurore had hatched. But the evening was young, and she had all night to convince Solange of the benefits of her plan.
When they both sat and joined their wine glasses together in a toast, Aurore gazed into Solange’s eyes and tried to divine what her scheme was—or if she even had one—but she was hard to read, as usual.
“Have you made your decision? The president will have a meeting with the party about the bill the coming week, so I need an answer now so we can plan accordingly.” Solange’s tone was suddenly much more business-like.
“The decision will be yours to make, as I have a counteroffer.” Aurore shot Solange a wide grin. “Isn’t politics fun?”
“No need to convince me.” Solange quirked up her eyebrows. “Let’s hear it then.”
“How about I invite Anne Rivière along to my show as well? We can make it more of a debate. Live, on air.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Aurore shook her head slowly. “I’m not. I can’t have Dominique on the show without giving Rivière the same platform. That’s not what my show is about, nor could I live with that, because I would be betraying my candidate. But I’m perfectly willing to give them both a fair shot.”
“It wouldn’t be a fair shot for Dominique because you and Rivière are in cahoots. Ninety percent of your audience must be left-wing. The president would be fighting with her back against the wall.”
“You’re seeing this all wrong, Solange. Why would it be a fight? They agree on the issue. This would be a chance for the president to publicly stand behind the bill without giving Rivière all the glory.”
“And why would Rivière agree to that?”
“Because she’ll get what she wants. No opposition. They’ll both look like politicians working together across party lines. It will send a positive message. And positive messages are so necessary these days. It will give them a chance to condemn the Tous Ensemble movement together and they’ll both get excellent PR.”
“And so will you.” Solange seemed to have relaxed a bit.
“It’s a triple win. Nobody loses.”
“Have you okayed this with Rivière?”
“No, I wanted to ask you first.”
“I’m not sure the president will be up for this, but I will bring it to her first thing tomorrow.”
“Good.” That went down much smoother than Aurore had expected. Maybe even Solange Garceau got tired of fighting sometimes. Or maybe the president had given her such a heartfelt speech out of worry for her child, that it had made even Solange willing to build bridges. “So that’s settled already,” Aurore said. “Does that mean the rest of our evening will be devoted to pleasure?”
“I guess that depends on what you’re cooking,” Solange said with a sly grin on her face.
There really was something different about her. Her defences were down.
“Ah, well, you’ll have to wait and see. Unless you’re starving, then I can feed you now.”
“I’m fine. The wine is excellent as well as the company.”
Aurore had to keep from winking at Solange. She still had to tread carefully around her.
“How about last night?” she asked. “Did you think the company was excellent then as well? Or a few too many openly gay women in one room for you?”
Solange scoffed. “I guess I deserved that.” She fixed her gaze on Aurore. “But, um, some of the things you said resonated with me.”
“Such as?” Aurore’s ears perked up.
Solange drank, as though she needed the liquid courage to be able to continue. “Let’s just say that I think in many ways you’re the opposite of me. At first, it made me balk a little, but now I find it quite interesting. You’re an interesting person.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, although I don’t immediately see what me being interesting has got to do with anything I said last night.”
“When you said that thing about the biggest inequality of all, which I don’t necessarily agree with, by the way. I’ve been in politics too long to know there are much greater inequalities than a frivolous thing like sex. I—”
“You think sex is frivolous? And trivial?” Aurore tilted her head.
Solange was unable to hold her gaze. “Well, not in general. But compared to other things, yes.”
“You don’t think it’s a problem, a really big problem, that women have been told since time immemorial to just lie back and let the man do his thing, because that’s what men need, and it’s the woman’s duty to serve the man?”
“You’re twisting my words again. Using them against me. That’s not what I meant at all. Has someone ever had the nerve to tell you that you can be a little heavy-handed when it comes to certain topics?”
“Of course. It’s what I hear all the time. Mostly from men. And from women to whom sex isn’t all that important. But I can’t help but be passionate about this because this is one of the things I’ve been campaigning against all my life. How can men and women ever truly be equal, despite all the quota for government jobs, and the rise of the female CEO, if said CEO is expected to lie back and take it when she goes home at night? And risk the wrath of her husband if she doesn’t much feel like it?”
Solange narrowed her eyes. “Does all of this come from personal experience? Did you have a negative experience with a man? Because I have, yet I don’t look at this in as extreme a way as you do.”
“This is not only a matter of my experience. Though I am sorry to hear that things that should never have happened, did happen to you.”
“With all due respect, I didn’t come here for another discussion on women’s rights. I feel that was extensively covered last night. That’s not what I was trying to say. Can we take a deep breath and start again?” Solange set the example by inhaling deeply.
Aurore followed suit. Solange was like a red rag to a bull. Aurore spent too much of her time rallying against puritans who wished the world could go back at least fifty years. A camp she had always assumed Solange to be in since she’d met her. But Aurore wasn’t as narrow-minded as the people she raged against, and she could give someone the benefit of the doubt, and truly listen to what they had to say. Maybe Solange was just a little nervous.
“I’m sorry. I got on my high horse there for a minute. It has become a pretty comfortable spot for me. Perhaps too comfortable.” Aurore ostentatiously closed her eyes and took a deep breath in again and exhaled slowly. “What did you want to say?” she asked, her voice soft and welcoming.