by Harper Bliss
“Someone like me?” Aurore asked.
“I only mean that in the best way possible,” Solange continued. “Once I got over myself and I could truly see you for who you were, obviously.”
“A left-wing loudmouth who once had a part in a porn movie,” Aurore joked.
Solange shook her head. “A kind, patient, wholly unthreatening, gorgeous woman,” she said.
Aurore broke out into a smile. She kissed Solange on the nose, then let her lips drift to her mouth, again. Whether any of this tenderness would ever exist between them outside of this bedroom remained to be seen, but Aurore intended to enjoy it while she had Solange in bed with her, and tried to make it last as long as she could.
Zoya
“No, darling, come on,” Zoya said, but didn’t push Camille away. “I can’t be late on my first day.”
“You won’t be. I calculated this in when I set the alarm last night,” Camille said as she circled a finger around Zoya’s clit.
“The alarm hasn’t even gone off yet,” Zoya said.
“Exactly.” Camille’s finger kept darting around, not really touching but promising plenty.
Zoya had barely slept. Nerves about her first day at Barbier & Cyr had kept her awake most of the night and she had tossed and turned fitfully. She had woken up well before she had to and her frenzied antics had jolted Camille from sleep a few minutes ago.
“I just want to erase as much of your nerves as I can,” Camille said. “Unless you know of something better that will get the job done?” She kissed Zoya on the lips. “Would you prefer to go for a walk instead?” She grinned. “It’s still dark outside though.” Her finger became a bit more insistent. “While here, in bed with me, it’s nice and warm and…” Her finger dipped down. “A little wet, I must say.”
“If you put it like that.” Zoya smiled up at Camille. “French women are so hard to resist. I don’t even know why I try.” Camille’s finger was hovering over the rim of her pussy.
“I don’t know either.” Camille pushed the tip of her finger inside. “It’s so pointless.”
“Utterly.” The word barely made it past her throat.
“Who doesn’t like to get fucked by a Française before work.” Camille’s finger slid in deep. “You’re in Paris now, darling,” she lowered her voice. “Do as the Parisians do.”
All Zoya did was spread her legs a little wider. And expel from her mind all the nervously skittering thoughts about how she could screw up at Barbier & Cyr today. Camille was right. This was proving a very effective method of putting her mind at ease. Her body, on the other hand, was less at peace.
“Talk to me,” Camille insisted. “Tell me what you want.”
Camille knew very well what Zoya wanted, but she also knew that saying the words out loud would turn Zoya on, bring her to that edge so much faster.
“Add another finger,” Zoya said between uneven breaths.
Camille grinned then slowly retracted her finger, examined Zoya’s face until she quirked up her eyebrows, then slid two fingers inside of her.
“Is that all?” Camille asked. “I have more to give, chérie.” She leaned down to kiss Zoya’s nipple. “Much more.”
There was a new lightness about Camille since that douchebag at the CNRS had gotten the boot. It was the same carefree Camille that Zoya had met in Sydney all those months ago. The woman she had been unable to resist. She was still unable to resist. Just before Zoya managed to scrape together a reply to Camille’s naughty question, she thought about how life constantly changed. How nothing ever stayed the same. And sometimes one didn’t notice the change, because it was slow and incremental, but it was still there. Just as much as Camille was, in many ways, the same delightful woman she had met the previous year, this ordeal had changed her as well. It had made her more determined—and even less tolerant of bigotry. No one else was, perhaps, able to notice this but Zoya, the one closest to her. The woman who loved her most.
“Go down on me,” Zoya said, with a little regret, because it would shut Camille up, and she enjoyed it immensely when she talked to her like that. But they didn’t have all day. Zoya needed time to obsess over the outfit she was going to wear and whether taking that box of macaroons she’d bought yesterday would be too much, or appreciated as a friendly touch by her new bosses.
“Your wish is my command, milady,” Camille joked, and disappeared under the covers.
Once she brought her tongue into play, and kept fucking Zoya with increasing ferocity, Zoya’s nerves were no longer a match for her flaring desire. She welcomed the rush of pleasurable hormones washing over her and, just as Camille had predicted, they flushed some of the tension from her system.
As she lay panting, Camille crawled from under the duvet, a wet, wide grin on her face. “Happy to oblige, milady,” she said. “You’re going to kick ass today. We both know that.”
Zoya pulled Camille close to her. Maybe today was the real beginning of her life in Paris, with Camille. The trial period had ended. This was it. And she was ready.
“Let’s go to Le Comptoir,” Steph said. “It’s tradition.”
“It’s only four,” Zoya said. “I haven’t done any work yet.”
“There’s plenty of time for work come tomorrow. This is your first day. We have to celebrate.”
“At four o’clock?” Zoya repeated.
“I can wait five minutes if you insist. I’ll just sit here.”
“Well, you are my boss,” Zoya said.
“And first lady of the republic,” Steph said. “Let’s not forget that.”
“As reluctant a first lady as you want to make me believe you are, you certainly never allow me to forget it.”
“It’s a love-hate relationship. And I do like to abuse the title when I can. That way I at least get something out of it.”
Ten minutes later, after Steph’s security detail had had a chance to do the usual safety check, they sat inside a typical French café, each with a cosmopolitan in front of them. Steph seemed very familiar with Tony, the bartender.
“So this is where you conduct most of your business,” Zoya joked.
“In truth, I haven’t been here for ages. Being first lady and all that.” A shadow crossed over her face, before it lit up again. “I used to come here all the time. I have so many memories here.” She smiled. “Good and bad, but mostly good. I miss it, but there’s not much room for nostalgia in my life.” She held up her glass. “Onwards and upwards, as they say.”
“To a great first day.” Zoya clinked her glass against Steph’s while wondering for how long they would be left in peace here.
“Don’t get used to it. We didn’t reel in a big fish like you without intending to use all of your assets.”
“I’m very keen to use my assets, whatever they may be,” Zoya said. “Have things settled down between Dominique and you now?”
“Mostly, yes.” The sparkle in Steph’s eye intensified. “I love her, you know. I was complicating everything, but when it comes down to it, it’s as simple as that. I love her and she happens to be president. Just like any other person in a relationship, I have to take the good with the bad. Meaning, in this case, I have to tolerate Solange.” She chuckled. “I’m kidding. Solange has proven herself to be… less uptight of late. And that whole thing with Lisa just shook me out of it. We’ve found more middle ground now.” She drank. “But gosh, it’s so easy to get complacent and let that middle ground slip away, especially in a place as high-powered and crazy as the Elysée. So I have named myself guardian of our private schedule. Not just for my benefit, but for Dominique’s and the children as well. If she’s going for another term, I don’t want her burned out by the time she gets to it.”
The door of the bar opened and Zoya witnessed Steph stiffen and her expression turn to worry.
“Is everything all right?” Zoya quickly asked.
Steph visibly relaxed again as soon as she saw it was Juliette who was entering the bar. “I’m fine. I jus
t always expect some low-life photographer to show up when I’m out and about with friends.”
“Well, well, well,” Juliette said. “We didn’t make you partner so you could lead new employees astray in the middle of the afternoon,” she said. “Our bad, I guess.” She shot Zoya a smile.
“I can’t be held responsible for the bad decisions you make, boss,” Steph said.
Juliette waved off her comment. “We need to talk about Claire’s hen night,” she said.
Steph sat up and arched her eyebrows. “I distinctly remember hearing Claire say, in that very determined tone of hers, that she would not be having a hen night. They are a stupid, backward tradition, and the last thing she needs is one last night of so-called freedom. Least of all a stripper.”
Juliette had barely sat down when Tony had already brought her a cosmo.
“It doesn’t have to be a trashy affair, but I want to do something with her before she marries. Truth be told, I think I need it more than her. She was single for such a long time. In some ways, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact she’s getting married.”
Steph turned to Zoya. “They used to be lovers.” She shot Zoya a wink.
Juliette shook her head, then turned to Zoya as well. “Has Steph told you all about her affair with Claire, by any chance?”
“Blimey,” Zoya said. “I didn’t know there was some sort of entrance exam I had to pass to get a job at Barbier & Cyr. No offence, of course, but I’m in a relationship and I’m glad I got to skip that bit.”
Both Steph and Juliette burst into a chuckle.
“I always knew you’d fit right in,” Steph said, then leaned over the table and whispered, “but do count yourself lucky, because you don’t know the half of it. I’ll brief you when the time is right.”
Juliette sat shaking her head. “Are you going to help me or not?” she asked.
“Do I have a choice?” Steph asked.
“Not really,” Juliette replied.
Zoya leaned back in her chair and listened to them bicker for a while, safe in the knowledge that she had found the best place of work for herself in Paris.
Steph
“Welcome to this week’s PR meeting,” Steph said. “I’m so glad you could make it.
Dominique looked around the bedroom. “What’s all this?”
“Just trying to set the right tone for the occasion,” Steph said, overlooking the sea of candles she had lit.
“That must be some meeting you have planned. I wish you had sent me the agenda earlier so I could have prepared better.” Dominique fixed her gaze on Steph’s. “I feel like I’m missing something. Like I didn’t get the memo.” Dominique shuffled closer to her and put her arms around her neck.
“Just setting a new standard,” Steph said. “Things need to be a little different between us from now on, don’t you think?”
Dominique smiled. “That doesn’t mean you have to put in all the effort.” She kissed Steph on the lips. Steph felt a tingle all the way down to her toes, but it wasn’t lust that she felt.
“I don’t intend to.” She slipped her hands underneath Dominique’s blouse.
Dominique chuckled. “Then what do you intend?”
Steph withdrew her hands and took a step back. “My intentions are pure, I promise.” She delved a hand into her pocket, sank down to one knee, and said, “My only intention, really, is to finally make an honest woman out of you, Madam President.” She fished the ring out of her pocket and held it up. “What do you say? Shall we do this?”
Dominique’s mouth fell open. She pointed a finger at Steph. “You’re asking me?” She huffed out a chuckle. “To marry you?”
“That’s generally how it goes when a person goes down on one knee,” Steph said. When she had hatched this plan, she hadn’t doubted Dominique’s positive answer. Yet now, as she knelt there, the first smidgen of doubt lodged itself in her brain. Had she jumped the gun? Moved too fast? Stolen Dominique’s thunder?
“After I asked you twice and you turned me down as many times?” Dominique wasn’t planning on making this easy on her, so it seemed.
“I figured it was the only way. That you weren’t going to ask anymore.” Steph looked up at her and took a deep breath. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She wasn’t one to have her voice crack, but it did now.
“Babe.” Dominique sank to her knees and sat in front of her. “Are you sure about this? I mean, are you not doing this out of g—”
“For goodness sake, Dominique. What is your answer?” Steph held up the ring a little higher.
Dominique found her gaze again. “Of course my answer is yes. I want nothing more than to be your wife.”
“You left me hanging there for a second.” Steph reached for Dominique’s hand.
“I’m so sorry about that.” Dominique looked down at their joined hands.
Steph slid the ring over her ring finger. “I think I lost a few years of my life doing that.” She kissed Dominique on the knuckle. “How did you ever work up the nerve to ask me twice?”
“Maybe it wasn’t so much nerve as stubbornness.” Dominique wrapped her hands around Steph.
“I wasn’t ready then,” Steph said. “I am now.”
“I’m so happy that you are.” Dominique threw her arms around Steph’s neck. “But I have to say this was the very last thing I expected to happen tonight.”
“What did you expect?” Steph pecked her on the lips.
“More of this.” Dominique kissed her back. “And I haven’t told you the news that’s going to excite you beyond anything yet,” Dominique said when she let go of Steph and studied her new ring. “This is gorgeous, by the way.” She glanced at Steph. “Does this mean you’ll be wearing the ring I’ve had for you all this time?”
Steph nodded. “What’s the news?”
Dominique smiled. “I think I’m going to have to make you wait for it, seeing as you made me wait for this for a very long time, only so you could surprise me when I least expected it.”
“That’s not how it went.” Steph shook her head.
“I’m just teasing you.” Dominique slid onto her behind and took Steph’s hands in hers again. “Solange has had a distinct spring in her step for the past two days. She hasn’t said anything, obviously, and I don’t know what’s going on with her exactly, but something is most definitely going on.” She tilted her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say she’s showing signs of… falling in love.”
Steph brought a hand to her mouth and mock-gasped. “Has hell frozen over? Can pigs fly? Solange Garceau in love? It cannot possibly be!” Steph made a mental note to call Aurore as soon as possible. “As your brand new fiancée, surely I’m allowed to get to the bottom of this.”
Dominique held up a finger. “You leave poor Solange alone and let her enjoy this wonderful time in peace.” She sniggered. “Who knows, this may never happen again. We must tread carefully.”
“Who would have thought? The Elysée so full of love hormones.” Steph narrowed her eyes. “Logically, she can only be having these feelings for Aurore.”
“We don’t know that,” Dominique said.
“The thing is that I do know, though,” Steph said.
“You think you know, there’s a distinct difference between the two.” Dominique shuffled closer again. “Besides, you’re getting way too excited about this. Time to refocus on tonight’s events.” She gave Steph a quick kiss then pushed herself up off the floor. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get your ring.”
Steph watched her scoot off and heard Dominique rummage through her study. She glued her glance to the doorway, through which her future wife, the president of France, would soon walk, holding an engagement ring, for her.
Solange
Solange took a deep breath. She must truly have lost her mind. But the car had stopped, she had made the decision—albeit in a state of altered consciousness—and now she had to go through with it.
/> “Are you ready?” Aurore asked.
Solange looked at her, at her gorgeous face with those big brown eyes, eyes she had lost herself in so many times the past few days. “Not really.”
“What are you most worried about?” Aurore had used this very question to snap Solange out of the thoughts that spun in her head a few times since they’d started sleeping together.
Every time, it made Solange wonder. What was she worried about, anyway? Steph’s scorn? Dominique’s flabbergasted face? She barely knew anyone else at this wedding. When she had agreed to come as Aurore’s plus one, she had easily been able to ignore these thoughts, because it was Aurore who had asked her, and how could she say no to Aurore? How could she not want to go anywhere with her now that she had shown Solange what she’d been missing in her life all this time? Solange would follow Aurore to the ends of the earth. She had said so, in those very words, when Aurore had brought it up.
“Why don’t you come with me to Claire and Margot’s wedding?” Aurore had been lying naked in bed with her.
“Because it will be crawling with socialists,” was Solange’s instinctive reply.
“The president will be there.” Aurore had dragged that delightful finger of hers over the sensitive skin of Solange’s belly. Never before had Solange been more surprised by the power of one single fingertip.
“I’ll go with you wherever you want me to.” Solange’s voice had just taken over, without checking in with her brain. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”
But now here she sat, a bunch of nerves barrelling through her. It had been so easy to agree, just like it had become so easy to fall into bed with Aurore—it hadn’t taken much after that first time. Actually, since that time Solange had been unable to control herself and had kissed Aurore on the lips so unstoppably. That was when she had sealed her fate. Now she couldn’t get enough of her. She could have used the excuse of work, but by god, she just wanted to be near Aurore. Feel that frisson of excitement in the air that was always there when they were together. Let it build and build. And only then give in.
The fact that she would have to come out to the likes of Stéphanie had occurred to her, but had been so easily brushed off, because why would Solange feel any trepidation at all about how good, how utterly exquisite really, she had been feeling? She’d have to face Steph’s scorn at some point. She might as well get it over with.