La Suite (4 page)

“I see what you
mean about silly but fun,” Gaëlle murmured to Gabi. “I’m enjoying
this,” she added.

“Shush,” Gabi
whispered.

“Good,” said
Martine. “Service will now begin.”

When they were
all at the coffee and liqueurs stage, Martine rapped on her wine
glass again. There was instant, total quiet. “You may recall what I
said earlier about absolute silence,” she said. “However, I
distinctly heard Gabi’s guest whispering. Gabi will therefore
perform a forfeit.”

“That isn’t
fair,” Gaëlle protested. “Gabi isn’t responsible for what I do,
surely?”

“Gabi will now
tell us a suitably embarrassing story, or suffer the consequences,”
Martine continued imperturbably, with a broad smile. “An
embarrassing story about her guest, of course.”

Gabi glanced at
Gaëlle and whispered, “There’s only one thing I know, and I can
hardly tell them that, can I?”

Gaëlle thought
for a moment. “Why not?” she murmured. “Your forfeit is my
responsibility.”

“If you’re
sure.”

Gabi told the
story of the vibrating egg. Gaëlle could feel the eyes of the group
on her. It was good to be the focus of an erotic story again. Her
body thought so too, she realised, noticing a warm sensation
between her thighs. Gabi finished, and she was about to sit down
when Martine stopped her.

“Have you no
shame, Gabi? It isn’t nice to tell tales in public,” she said,
ignoring the fact that it was she who’d defined the forfeit.” As a
punishment for your lack of discretion, come over here.”

Gabi obediently
went to stand beside Martine, who used her baton of office to lift
Gabi’s short red dress, revealing her knickers. They were white,
decorated with a pattern of little pink roses. Hoots of laughter
greeted this revelation.

“Little girl
knickers!”

“Pretending
she’s innocent!”

“Who does she
think she’s kidding?”

Gabi gave them
the finger.

“Behave
yourself, Gabi,” Martine told her. “And sit down nicely.”

The evening
progressed. As Gabi had warned, any perceived transgression called
for a forfeit to be paid. One woman had to sing a rude drinking
song as a result of using what Martine chose to call foul language.
Everybody joined in the chorus. Another had to drink from the wrong
side of her glass, as a punishment for spilling wine on the table.
She ended up with yet more wine down her front, of course.

“My blouse is
soaked and I’ll catch cold!” she declared. Without further comment,
she unfastened it and took it off.

“Typical of
Barbara,” Gabi’s friend Nathalie snorted. “Any excuse to show off
her expensive boobs!”

Barbara stuck
out her tongue at her. “Just because you’re flat-chested,
Nath!”

“Flat-chested?
Me? Let’s get an opinion on that!” Nathalie said, unbuttoning her
own blouse. She had no bra under it. She stood and thrust out her
chest. “So? My firm little boobs, or Barbara’s big bazookas?” she
demanded.

Opinion was
split. Clearly, this group enjoyed letting their hair down, Gaëlle
realized, also noting that it was all very good humoured.

At eleven
o’clock, Gabi pulled Gaëlle to one side. “I have to go soon,” she
said. “I’m off to Brussels on the bike in the morning. Nath will
give you a lift. It’s already arranged.”

“You should
have said. I could have taken a taxi.”

“No way. Nath
is happy to take you.”

Gaëlle turned
to Nathalie. “Sure?” she asked.

“No
problem.”

Gabi said her
goodbyes and left, waving to Gaëlle and miming a telephone
call.

Chapter
Five

A little later,
Barbara came over to Gaëlle. “Want to come swimming?”

“A swim? At
this hour? In the Rhine, I suppose?”

“Of course
not.” Barbara laughed. “In my pool. Nath usually comes.”

“I suppose I
should too, then,” Gaëlle conceded.

Although
Barbara had put her wine-stained blouse back on, she didn’t bother
to fasten it when she strolled out into the car park and got into a
big BMW. A woman called Odile joined her. Nathalie, with Gaëlle as
her passenger, followed them, as the little convoy of two cars
drove to a house in one of the wealthy suburbs, and parked in a
garage that Gaëlle reflected was about the size of her own
apartment.

Once inside,
Barbara led them down a spiral staircase.

“It’s huge,”
Gaëlle exclaimed, looking at the swimming pool that came into
view.

“Twenty
metres,” Barbara said proudly. “No point in divorcing a rich pig of
a husband if you don’t get to enjoy what he had to hand over!”

There were
little cubicles beside the pool, and Gaëlle went into one of them.
As she stripped she recalled the last time she had swum naked in a
pool. It had been with Jérôme, two years previously. They’d been on
their way to Vilnius, and had stopped for a day in Lübeck, in
northern Germany. She’d noticed that the pool there was having a
non-textile evening, and had suggested that they try it out. It had
been one of the least sexy occasions of nudity in Gaëlle’s life.
They’d had to wear swimming caps that were the colour and texture
of condoms, and Jérôme had picked up a fungus that had taken
several treatments to remove. Gaëlle realised that she was able to
think of Jérôme without tears, now. She was making progress. She
still missed him desperately, but he was a warm presence in her
head now, rather than an open wound in her heart.

While her mind
was wandering, Gaëlle had stripped naked, rather conscious of her
pubic hair, which had regrown over the months of neglect. However,
as she started to open her cubicle door, Odile walked past, still
wearing her knickers. Gaëlle quickly put hers back on and came out
into the pool area.

The others were
already in the water. Unthinkingly, Gaëlle dived in, then had to
grab hastily for her knickers and haul them back up from round her
knees. She swam a few lengths, glad that she hadn’t overindulged at
the meal. The others paddled around, doing more chatting than
swimming, she noted. Gaëlle had a chance to examine them. Barbara’s
boobs had clearly had assistance to be the size they were. Nathalie
was quite a contrast. Her breasts would not have looked out of
place on an adolescent. Odile’s body showed signs of having had
children, with stretch marks around the nipples as well as on her
stomach.

“I need
bubbles!” Barbara announced after a while. “I’ll see you up in the
bar. Give me twenty minutes to give it a chance to chill.”

She disappeared
up the spiral staircase, not bothering to dress. The others swam
and paddled and chatted. When Odile looked at the clock and
declared that Barbara had had long enough, the trio climbed out of
the pool and went to dry themselves. In her cubicle, Gaëlle peeled
off her sodden knickers. Even wrung out, they weren’t wearable.
She’d have to do without. She put her dress on and left the
cubicle, just in time to meet Nathalie, who was wearing only a
towel round her waist.

“I’ll get
dressed after the champagne,” she explained, seeing Gaëlle’s
quizzical expression.

“I don’t think
my knickers will be dry even then,” Gaëlle said. “Perhaps I should
have worn a longer dress.”

“With legs like
yours? Never! By the way, before we go up to the bar, there’s
something you should know. It’s probable that you’ll notice
something different about Barbara, but we aren’t supposed to
comment on it, okay?”

“Different?
How?”

“You’ll see.
Come on.”

The bar was up
two flights. Gaëlle’s mind was working hard as she walked up the
stairs. If she’d been at home, she would have been muttering aloud.
She’d been so used to sharing everything with Jérôme, that she was
conscious that she talked to herself quite a lot.

I’m out of
practice at walking around without underwear, even though I did it
often enough with Jérôme,
she told herself. She breathed out,
emptying her lungs to relax.
But I must stop referring
everything back to him. But think, woman! What would he have wanted
to know? Well, Gaëlle, How do you feel? You have no knickers on,
and you’re walking up a spiral staircase. Two people you met only
hours ago are just behind you, with a clear view of your bare
bottom. Are you enjoying it? Be honest and admit that you are.
Without the support of Jérôme, you would never have dared to try so
many of the experiences you’ve known. What you’re doing now is your
proof to him that you’ve learned how to accept responsibility, and
to enjoy all the sexy possibilities that he opened up for
you.

While she had
been thinking this through, they had climbed one of the flights of
stairs. Gaëlle spent the second flight wondering what Nathalie had
been hinting at regarding Barbara. Piercings, perhaps? She shook
her head. She’d find out soon enough.

The bar was too
rococo for Gaëlle’s taste, with antiques everywhere. Nathalie and
Gaëlle were first to arrive, but Odile soon joined them, fully
dressed. Barbara was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s good to
have one of us who looks fit, but doesn’t make a song and dance
about it.” Odile commented, looking at Gaëlle. “We usually have to
put up with Gabi telling us that we need to go to the gym
more.”

“Gym? What an
unpleasant word,” Barbara said, coming in clutching an ice bucket
containing two champagne bottles. “Drinkies, girls! Much more
fun.”

Now Gaëlle
could see what Nathalie had meant about Barbara, who was wearing
only a pair of skin-tight shorts. She was a sturdy woman, built
like one of Maillol’s female nudes. Gaëlle’s eyes were drawn to
Barbara’s bared breasts.
Surely nipples as long as that couldn’t
be natural?
They hadn’t been so prominent earlier, Gaëlle was
certain. Nathalie nudged her, and she tore her gaze away in time
for Odile to hand her a flute of champagne. Gaëlle and Nath didn’t
intend to stay long and after a couple of glasses, Nathalie said
she had to head off home. Gaëlle, feeling the effects of the drinks
and also exhausted after this, her first social outing for many
months, also said goodbye.

“You will come
again, won’t you?” Barbara asked. “Maybe next time we’ll have the
opportunity to have a proper conversation.”

“Of course, if
you’ll have me,” Gaëlle replied. She kissed Barbara on both cheeks,
very aware of the other woman’s distended nipples pressed against
her, and trying not to stare.

In the car,
Nathalie started the motor and then, as she drove out into the
road, she said, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“About Barbara?
I was wondering how to put the question,” Gaëlle told her.

“Barbara
desperately needs to feel she looks sexy, even if she isn’t really
the shape for it. You must have noticed she’s had a boob-job?”

“That’s pretty
obvious.”

“Well, even
after she’d had that done, she still couldn’t compete with the
likes of Gabi, and no matter what she does, she’ll never look as
sexy as you, for example. I hope you don’t mind my saying
that.”

“It’s a welcome
compliment, and I rather need those at the moment, so thank you.”
Gaëlle smiled at Nathalie.

“So then she
discovered pumping.”

“Pumping?
What’s that? I’m sorry, I’ve spent almost a year not thinking about
sex, so you’ll have to explain.”

“The idea is
that you fit a plastic tube over your nipples and pump the air out
with a vacuum pump. It makes them swell up and become longer.”

Now Gaëlle
understood. She was reminded of her submissive evening with
Vivienne. The memory of how the vacuum pump had felt on her nipples
and sex gave her a warm glow. She shifted in her seat, conscious of
her bare bottom and hoping she wasn’t going to leave a damp patch
on the leather. Her dress wasn’t long enough to tuck it under
her.

“Barbara’s
nipples certainly stood out,” she agreed, trying not to sound as
interested as she was. “And they stay like that for how long?”

Nathalie
laughed.

“I don’t really
know, but I suspect that Barbara must do it quite often, and maybe
that increases the lasting effect. What did you think of how it
made her look?”

“Um. It
certainly caught my eye. If you want to attract people’s attention,
it does the job. It must feel weird, “she suggested, trying to find
out how much Nathalie knew.

“I’ve no idea.
I’ve never tried it. Barbara seems to enjoy it, though, especially
when people stare.”

“I suppose it’s
a bit like being pierced,” Gaëlle mused out loud. “When you have a
piercing you’re conscious that people can’t resist looking
twice.”

“That sounds
like personal experience. You had pierced nipples?”

“Absolutely
not! Mine are much too small and sensitive.”

“But you did
have a piercing, though? Where?”

The champagne
made it simple for Gaëlle to be frank. “Through my clitoris hood. I
used to be depilated, too, to make the jewellery stand out even
more.”

“Oh wow!”
Nathalie gasped. “You know, Gabi has been going on about you since
you met up again. She’s convinced herself that you’re some sort of
sexual icon, as well as a professional one. Even just this evening,
I’m starting to understand how she got that impression. But I bet
she doesn’t know you used to be pierced.”

“No, she
doesn’t. Are you going to tell her?”

“Not if you
don’t want me to.”

“Thank
you.”

Gaëlle sat in
silence as the car swept through the empty early-morning streets of
Strasbourg. Back in her apartment, she showered to get the pool
chemicals off her skin, then got into bed, naked. She lay back with
her hands behind her head and reflected on the evening. She hadn’t
felt so relaxed for ages. And she had to admit to herself that it
had also been a pleasantly sexy outing. She glanced at her nipples,
which were erect. Yes, she thought, it had been really quite
stimulating.