ERIC VINCENT
ARLETTE’S SAGA VOLUME 1
WITH THE MASKS OFF
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
Site: http://ericvincent.no-ip.org/
© Eric Vincent 1999. All rights reserved. Every resemblance with having existed, existing or coming situations or characters would be a pure coincidence.
2
With the masks off
For Arlette, the woman who gave me up the sight…
3
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
The monotonous kilometers of motorway, similar to a life without cheese, were streaming with an unflagging rhythm. Arlette knew the road through and through : she had accomplished it so many times, always with the same devotion, with the same desire which gnawed her belly. However, she distrusted the final part, in the Parisian area. The belt of the city always suffered of chronic traffic jam where she came in, around 5 pm. Every time that she had parked her car where she could, she went up the stairs to the second floor, the heart beating. She inserted the key, his key, in the heavy lock. Nobody. Eric systematically came at home after. He liked to come in and to discover her clothes, the posture she adopted to coil up on the sofa. His was never tired of feeling the sensation of her raped intimacy with surprising a woman installed in his home. Each time, his imaginary became stronger, brought in a flood of very visible emotions and he made her love intensely, without undressing himself, making last the pleasure, as she desired it passionately. When she was driving, she dreamed of all the first times she knew with him. She always was surprised to bring to the light new hidden facets of this man, similar to a Russian dolly. When she thought she had a turn of his character, convinced to know him until the limit of his thoughts, he chose this precise moment to reveal another part of his personal characteristics. And when she looked the whole she found out, the pieces of the puzzle patiently collated, it filled up her heart and dimmed her sight of a salt emotional liquid. He enjoyed torturing his brain until he imagines and realizes something which would surprise her. The sole limits were his imaginary one's, totally exacerbated by his first wedding, made of frustrations. As she was eager to discover a new small colored figurine inside the nest of Russian dolls, she put more on speed, nearing the red limit of the motor's rating. That was always like this : she imagined herself against him and everything went faster : her heart, her speed, her desires. During their first meeting, on the fine sand of Tunisia, he asked her if she wanted to live "others magical instants". She accepted without suspecting that magic would be the cement of their meeting. Colors, perfumes, words, presents, so many sensations reminding, daily, his presence in spite of the kilometers between them. Once, very special, he dared an unprecedented trick. She came at Paris during the week, by train. The appointment had been taken at the feet of the venerable lady of iron (not Margaret Thatcher), the Eiffel tower. A meeting place easy to find, she thought. In fact, the party occurred in the Eiffel tower, in the panoramic restaurant named "Le Jules Verne". They had dinner tête-à-tête and took advantage of the view that couldn't be obstructed over all Paris completely lighted up. The dinner was sprinkled and the overheated spirits got a natural inclination to lead the conversation back to the sexual allusions. The shape of the wine's bottle reminded them a sex, they thought to discern a typical bump under the trouser of the waiter, a reaction due to the dress that Arlette wore and which was opened at very interesting places. After the meal, in the lift of one of the tower's feet, it carried on all the more. Their bodies touched themselves lightly time and time, she by provoking with her eyes and her suggestive walk swaying the hips, he by keeping his hands in the pockets with many difficulties. They laughed at the contrite appearances of the sixteenth borough's lower middle class, unintentional witnesses of the erotic scene.
4
With the masks off
The frozen wind of February didn't weaken the animal and wine-growing heat which had taken them. They strolled during long minutes on the lawn, crossed the Trocadero and often stopped to give themselves up to long and languorous kisses. When they reached the subway station, they could get into the end carriage. It was wholly deserted at this late hour of the night. It should be over midnight, the end of the duty was close. As there wasn't a soul, the man plucked up courage and slipped one hand on the tits, the other hand under the dress of his accomplice. He was curious to know if she wore underwear. Nothing ! Not the faintest material… Instead of this, he found steady erected boobs and, downer, some soaked lips puffed out by the desire. The slipping of the fingers in the secret folds snatched screams off from Arlette who straightened hers back suddenly. Her companion would be assaulted by a different arch : the kind of arch able to provoke some irretrievable damages for a fly of trouser. As nobody went into the carriage at the next station and as his trouser ventured the sudden accident, he sat down and got out quickly his penis. He raised the dress of his female companion and impaled her violently on his erected stick. In this posture, nobody could guess that she was deeply pierced. She got an instantaneous orgasm, one of these she preferred, during the first intromission. As she swung on the rear, she offered her neck without defense and he didn't require a great deal of persuasion to nibble her copiously. She swayed the hips, excited by the idea to make love in a public place, excited by the idea to be discovered by new travelers going up without any warning. At each stop, the tension raised of one step, they carried on the game further, looking for an increase of the pleasure based on this unusual situation. He gripped her hips and gave himself up to make explode the reserve of one warm cum's week deeply in the Arlette's belly. They got consciousness slowly because they were both completely upset them by this stimulating experience. They were convinced that the old seats of the subway had not known their first jolts tonight ; others pairs did it before them and they understood how it could be exciting when they discovered the control's camera of the train-driver just in front of them. This electronic eye, usually dedicated to the verifying of the climbing up and down of the travelers, had probably brought a first class spectacle to the driver very happy, this time, to accomplish the evening's duty. The show was worth all the bonus and was different of the groups of hooligans and others nightly birds doing games more destructive. Arlette turned to her lover. In spite of the winter heavy colds, they didn't have any handkerchief ; so Arlette decided to clean the erected and glancing sex, loosing any drop of liquid with a sensuous perfume. She had some difficulties to put it again in its cotton's jail, an additional difficulty which meant an exceptional health and a night as short as a skirt of the sixties. What an evening ! As Arlette entered in the quarter of "La Defense", reminding these adventures, she felt a moistness with spicy effluvium between her thighs. Unconsciously, she rolled her lips the ones against the others. The vision of the erected swollen penis was enough to bring her in trance. She wanted to be labored. Now ! She couldn't wait. She parked as quick as possible in a narrow street, stopped the motor of the car. Spreading hers legs from the
5
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
door to the gear stick, she introduced immediately two fingers in her overheated grotto and kept the ring finger for another hole, narrower. She moved suddenly on her seat, rubbing her asshole on the texture. In less than two minutes, she felt the sudden pleasure, knocking against the ceiling of the car many times with her head, her tits pressed by the safety belt locked by the shock. A passer-by hit the window to have news of her health. When she saw him, she switched on gain with eagerness, without waiting the heating of the diesel motor and she burst out, diverted by this delicate posture. Since she played these lonely games no matter where, sooner or later, she should do it in front of the eyes of an unintentionally voyeur. At least, she reached Colombes city, where her companion lived in. - Hey ! He is waiting outside ! she noticed in a loud voice. It wasn't his habits. Moreover, did he have some habits ? He was so unforeseeable that it gave some spicy to their love. When she came close to him, she pulled down the window. He laid a slipped kiss, as he was fond of. A kiss beginning on the lips, slipping on the cheeks and ending on the neck. Like this, even with a simple good morning, he geared up the sensations. She delighted herself beforehand, desired to relate her adventure in "La Defense" but she changed hers mind. He seemed serious, worried. An appearance she didn't know. Usually, he was so player, so able to pull hers leg to give her pleasure (the only times where he disguised the truth, for the good reason) that the serious appearance may hide a new scenario. - Let your car in the underground parking lot ! he said without any word of love. - On which place ? - On mine. My car is outside. It's better. - Why ? - I'll explain later, he announced seriously. He freed the way to let her parking the Seat on the number 13 place. Irony of fate or wink of the destiny, he lived in 13, Tunisia Avenue, flat 13. Their lucky figure since their meeting on the 13th September 1999. The figure appeared many times ; straight away, the first poem he wrote for her, was the 13th with alexandrine. Then, often, telepathic events occurred between them around 13 hours. Several times, they noted with joy that the restaurants where they had dinner, were either located on the 13th of a street, or marked 13 over 20 in the "Gault and Millau" culinary guide. Fortune or coincidence ? What about the code 1313 AJT 92 on the license plate ? Just after having closed the car, she left quickly the car park poor lighted. She looked her small Ibiza car with a strange feeling. She had the bad feeling to see it for the last time. She dismissed this idea from hers mind to rush on her lover. She felt a burst of anguish when he almost pushed back her. He took her baggage and threw it without care on the rear seat of the Punto car. - We have no time ! We have to escape ! he interrupted curtly. - To escape ? Arlette asked. - I've got problems ! It's too dangerous ! Let's go !
6
With the masks off
She didn't ask anymore questions. She sat at the passenger's place and shut hers safety belt. It was a good idea because he started as a mad man, making howling the motor. He jumped the stop sign at the end of the street and carried on all the more. He was stuck in his rearview mirrors, in the speedometer, taking some risks despite the traffic jam. The desire which gnawed Arlette some minutes before, had completely disappeared. Instead of this, she felt the fear in the entrails and her heart beat with an unknown rhythm. She tried to put him a question. - What is it happening ? What are you afraid of ? - I have problems, big problems. - What ? - In my factory, I saw a file I should never have seen. Misappropriation of money. Several million of euros. - This is a simple case of slush fund. - Oh no ! Not when we know who committed this crime ! - Who is he ? - Alexis Tchekov, a financial and administrative director. - And so ? - Employees are well paid in our society but, he, it's very known that he spends more money that he earns. - What does it mean ? - Russian mafia. - The mafia ? - Yes but not any mafia ! Russian are the most merciless. - Does he know you know ? - Yes. When I saw the anomaly, I went in his office to talk about with him. Instead of verifying who was the user, the author of this high-jacking. I threw myself into the lion's mouth. I'm stupid. - What can he do ? He won't kill you ! - He won't backward in coming forward ! - No… - There was this in my drawer… Eric said giving her a quilted envelope. Open it carefully. Arlette separated the parts of paper and screamed loudly. The rests of a dangerous insect. - My God ! It's a dead scorpion. - Dead, yes ! Yesterday, when I opened the drawer, it got more swiftness. The sting brushed me. One prick of this dirty bug and I was dead. It didn't come by hazard. And I forget that… Eric stopped his sentence. - And what ? Eric wavered, had a grin that she would have classed as an ordinary smile but today, it meant nothing good. - I narrowly missed being run over by a car… - What ?
7
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
- A big Mercedes, with an orange and green license plate. Diplomatic service. Fortunately, I got the reflex to turn the head in the right direction ! Its motor made a hellish noise when the driver accelerated. That's what saved me. They wanted to swat me… - But… Where do we go ? - We go abroad. - What ? - Just the time to think. I'll never come back to Paris, maybe never to France. I don't know, I don't know anymore. I get into panic. I'm so afraid, Arlette. The female nurse was totally flabbergasted by the new. Up today, the life with him had been a model of feelings and variety. Now, it was over the understanding. Somebody wanted to kill her beloved lover sweet-heart. To take him to her ! * ** The Russian mafia. The shadow of the octopus followed them as the sun came down to the skyline. Eric had quick connected main road number 20 because he was convinced that the Orly and Roissy airports weren't secured departure's points to escape France. In her mind, Arlette asked herself why he absolutely wanted to escape the tricolor territory. Maybe he didn't reveal al the truth. Did he intend to reach a country by the road ? They will need many hours. What then ? How will they pull through ? What did they live on ? Within a short instant, she mused on calling her children to reassure them. She changed hers mind : the phones were the less protected communication's instruments. Anybody, especially a syndicate of the crime, could spy the talks with a powerful scanner. When they crossed la Ferte-Allais village, Eric suddenly delivered these words : - I've got an idea ! - Which one ? Arlette asked. - We are going to jam the tracks a little bit more. He turned on the right, to the airdrome. The road, made of holes and tar, didn't reflect the quality of the tarmac. This airdrome accommodated venerable treasures of the first and the second world wars. It was famous in the whole France for its museum of the air, its numerous aerial events and spectacles of stunt flying. Eric stopped close to a small detached house and got out of the car. Just before Arlette would had time to bring something up against, he gave her an advice : - If I make a sign to you, move the car. Put it between the both hangars, here, in the recess. Nobody will see it from the road. Then, he entered the head office of a small air company. From the place she stayed, she could see him to hold a parley with two men. He produced them a piece of cardboard, probably his pilot license. Hey ! That was strange ! He didn't speak of the success of this examination. Why didn't he inform her of this ? The palavers lasted around ten minutes. He seemed furious and was ready to leave them when one of the two men called him back. The speech began again during one or two
8
With the masks off
minutes. He made a sign to Arlette. As decided together, she parked the Fiat in the secluded place. Effectively, in this place, the car remained invisible for the drivers on the road. She took their baggage and came to him. He was alone and fussed around a white middle wingspan plane which was endowed of an important compartment of the motor. - I should lie them ! I dislike it ! It's dangerous ! he said to begin. - To lie ? About what ? - About my qualifications and about the flight plan. - I don't understand. You don't have any license of pilot ? - Yes, I have ! But, I am not qualified on the kind of plane. To be qualified, I have to accomplish several laps with an instructor. I have no time. More, I gave them Bordeaux as final destination. - Where do we go truly ? - To Lyon-Satolas airport. We will board an aircraft on the first flight for Italy. - Italy ? The country of the mafia ? - Exactly ! Russian and Italian can't bear themselves, apparently. The Russians will let us quiet over there. - When do we go ? - Now, he said while catching the baggage and throwing them behind the seats. He asked Arlette to seat, he fastened the safety belt carefully and took over the controls of the plane. He caught the check list which dragged out on the instrument panel. He did scrupulously the verifying operations. He switched on, screamed "nobody" and pushed on "start", noting that nobody answered. He waited the indicators switching to green, announced himself on the radio and turned into the taxiway. As usually, he tried the magnetos cuts, tested the warming up of the carburetor and operated all the controls a last time. The flaps were down up to ten degrees, he came on the take-off strip, opened the throttle and left quickly the ground. He retracted the landing gear and when he was over five hundred feet, he turned on the right to move away calmly from the airdrome. When he was sure to be out of view, he rectified his course and adjusted his beacon's detector on the Auxerre's frequency. The plane, a Beech Baron of the Cessna firm, was a powerful single-engine aircraft, able to reach three kilometers per hour of cruise speed. In less than one hour and half, they will land at Lyon. Arlette deluded herself that they would find free hotel rooms because it was the beginning of September. She would sleep on it, they would find another solution. Her unlucky companion would search the protection of the police or he would go directly to the General Intelligence Service or to the Service of Territory Watching. These state organizations would insure him a future rosier than venomous sting, a big trace of tire on the abdomen or a bullet right between the both eyes. Arlette laid her head against the arm of her man, curled up against him, took his free hand in hers and pressed it very hard, taking a little advantage of its life before it escapes under the dirty job of a hired assassin. She shivered, suddenly under an innermost fear giving her severe stomach pains. It was not the time to be ill, there were no toilets in this kind of plane. She closed her eyes and the scenes of the past luck came to calm her anguishes. She concentrated more on the hours of tenderness, really soothing. This method had an
9
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
immediate effect and freed her spirit during long minutes. The weather was excellent : the sky was perfectly unclouded, it would be the sunset around 8 pm, and they will have enough time to come at Lyon. They just had to be sure to cross through the missiles, the bombs or all the others deadly madness imagined by the chemical engineers of the Russian Cosa Nostra. He appreciated a lot that she joined her fingers to his. He was strengthened for lack of being confident in the future and in the hope to live still long years. She valued him and it surprised him a little bit more everyday. She really gave herself to him, body and soul, so much that no word could describe it. As there was no boisterousness in the air, he increased the cruising speed, brushing the yellow zone. He was longing to arrive. * ** He entered in the waiting circuit of Lyon-Satolas, obeying the orders of the air traffic controller, the pilot didn't forget to raise the landing gear (he always had flied on nonretractable landing gear aircraft) before beginning his going down. This gesture avoided him a disastrous crash landing, the only delicious landings he could bear were these he did on the belly of his female companion, Arlette. She was a little bit ashamed to have slept and to have let him alone when he lived tragic and crucial instants. He answered it was normal that she was tired after two weeks of work without calm, three hours of motorway and terrible emotions I would like not to impose her. He landed with sweetness, making whine the main landing gear. He had liked the aircraft : its comfort, its maneuverability and its cruising speed. He almost regretted to let it to the motor mechanic of the rent company but he was worried by the idea to shuffle the tracks. - Where do we go, now ? asked Arlette. To the hotel ? If you want, I've got some cash. Not to pay by bank card and not to risk to be identified. - I also thought some cash. Firstly, I will collect some news about the flights. It should not last a very long time. If I find something, we leave France now. OK ? - OK ! she confirmed. He went away quickly, to Air France stand. Arlette examined closely the passengers, looking for the faintest hostile look, watching for the faintest sign of impending sign. Although it was over 8 pm, the airport was packed with travelers. Business men, some groups of tourists, white for these leaving the airport, browned for these coming back, and not far from her, two men with costumes, leaning on theirs elbows at the bar, having nothing else to do than to show their breadths. They didn't cease to interrupt their speech as Arlette didn't look them. When she focused on them, they carried on the speed with a steadiness too suspicious to be honest. Arlette went a bit from them while looking at them out of the corner of hers eye. They stood up and paid for their drinks. They followed in hers footsteps. She agglutinated herself to a group of pensioners waiting for the departure to a sunny country. This strategy didn't prevent the both men to be at hers heels. As she was not too far from
10
With the masks off
them, she could ear and understand that they were foreigners. They expressed themselves in an unknown language which consonance was not Latin. Arlette started to shiver. They seemed to speak in Russian ! She shivered more. One of them, a guy with blond straight hair, blue eyes, squared jaw, came up to her and talked her with a nearly perfect French, with a zest of accent : - Would you enjoy to join us ? - To join you ? - Yes. My friend and me, we would like to have a dinner with you. - What ? - We would like to invite you for dinner and… more if you desire it. We have nothing against the women, sometimes. Arlette was staggered. This guy and his acolyte were both homosexuals. The second one, a little bit smaller and less blond, joined the first man. They proposed her a special party with three persons ! They had got the nerve, the fellow men ! They were not gangsters or Russian killers, as she had imagined first, but they were two tourists searching special feelings, maybe sexual tourists who liked the French charm. Arlette personified the charm by the French way. A party such this one wouldn't offend her in others times and others places. However, she was totally crazy of another largely sufficient to satiate her and he was in danger. She too, by consequence. Two excellent reasons to refuse their proposal. They would have to attend to themselves alone. Diverted, Arlette asked which one dominated the other. Did they exchange the roles every day, every week ? Or did they have some preferences ? The great question ! Logically, if they proposed a trio, they should like both to penetrate. And consequently, to exchange ! She regretted not to assist to their revels. What an exciting vision ! Alas ! The urgency required to escape the mafia. - Well… I'm sorry to bungle your projects but I aim to spend my night with my boy friend. - We are not jealous. He can join us. - No, really, we won't do it. - Never mind ! the smaller of both said. You don't know that you loose ! That was their last words. They let her as her regular man came back. They seemed to give chase again, looking for another prey. In the hurry, she didn't think to ask them about their nationality. Just to verify if her forewarnings were exact. - What happened ? Eric said, wanting some news. - The both guys made me a proposal. - A proposal ? What kind ? - The kind very daring. - Oh… They hunt together ? - Yes. They keep themselves busy both when they come back empty handed. - I see… They dare all, these French men. - They were not French.
11
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
- What ? - No. - Which origin ? - Slav, I mean. - Russian ? - Maybe… - Shit ! That's all I needed ! - No… Look ! They connect another woman. No… I think they are looking for another partner. They don't follow us. I believe it. At the beginning, I was afraid. Moreover, I'm always afraid. Why don't you require the help of the police ? - I… I don't know… I want to be forgotten. Police is powerless against these criminals. France is a great country but it's not easy to change totally his identity. One day or another, everything is known. Especially if the Russian Camorra uses all the means to find us. How can we know the extent of this organization ? How far go its spies ? Is there one in each big town ? I get the wind up ! Now, I want to put some distance between them and me. - You mean "we" ? - Yes. I'm sorry to bring you in this hell. - I'll follow you to the world's end, if needed. Talking of that, did you find some plane tickets ? - Yes. We go now. We don't need to register our baggage, we can keep them in the plane. - Ah ? - It's a special flight. This is a small jet, a Falcon jet, I mean. Come ! He drove her out of the embarking hall. The plane was apart from the others, near a green and gray hangar. The jet, brand new, had been painted with the colors of the rainbow. Its storage capacity was around twenty or thirty passengers, depending of the kind of inner equipping. To access it, they went down the staircase integrated in the door. The young woman had the honor to enter first. She faced immediately an air hostess. She was really surprised to discover a bald cockpit, without the faintest seat but endowed of sofas, a television, a videotape recorder, a high fidelity chain and a bar. It was a flying saloon. A door allowed to access to the pilot cabin and to a small room having a fridge, an oven, some electric hot-plates, some cupboards, all needed to prepare or to warm a lunch. - Happy birthday ! a familiar voice said, behind her. - What ? - Wednesday, it was the 13th September. We celebrate our first year of love - But… As a matter of welcome, the air hostess gave her a cup full of an orange and red cocktail. Arlette understood less and less. Of course, it was the 15th September and she hoped he would have prepared a small surprise for the weekend. But events had turned acid since her arrival. She had been thrown in a maelstrom of fear and escape. - This is the end of the police episode of the weekend ! he commented on. - I don't understand. You mean…
12
With the masks off
- I mean that the mafia doesn't follow us, that there never was an Alexis Tchekov and no misappropriation of money. I imagined the whole story to verify if you would be able to follow me, if you would be afraid for me ! - It can't be true ! The pilots got out of the cockpit and applauded her, and this reassured her. She had got the feeling to be trapped by the "surprise on prize" team. She burst out laughing when she noticed the accomplice eye of her lover. He was proud of him, proud to succeed in coaxing her to bring her here, in this airplane, to fly to an unknown destination. She came to glue him, in his arms, looking for the comfort after the effort to bare a stressing situation. She was so afraid and, in the same time, everything had happened so quickly. He had organized his project for several weeks ago, discretely. Even when the pilots went back to their commands and when the air hostess asked them to seat during the takeoff, Arlette kept the Eric's hand. As to be reassured that all this was only a staging. He played perfectly his role. How did it ? How could he keep his serious attitude ? He was so credible. He drove in Paris like Fangio, he faced all kinds of situation, her questions. As talking of questions, she was burning to ask him one. She didn't resist a very long time and asked : - How did you all this ? - With a little bit of imagination. - Eric… she said while pressing a bit more her fingers against hers. Where did you find all these ideas ? The dead scorpion, it was existing ! It was real ! - Yes. My sun loaned me this one I brought from Tunisia, one year ago. - It's crazy ! I didn't think to it. Of course, no trial of crushing ? - No crushing ! - Alexis Tchekov ? - Alexis is the first name of an ex-colleague and Tchekov, the name of an author. - The plane ? How did you for the plane ? - With the both guys ? We had some difficulties to stay serious. I have my license, I'm authorized for the Beech Baron and the flight plan for Bordeaux never existed. The plane was rent since two months ! - You rascal ! You know, I really believed you were in danger of death. He gave her a reassuring kiss on her lips. Among all the ideas he had during his life, this one was over all. The surprise for his ten years wedding's birthday, by Delphine, her restaurateur girl friend, with thirty guests which came secretly, looked like a joke of a schoolboy compared with this new invention. To succeed to make her believe that he was chased, in danger of death, to involve her. It was great ! Arlette had plunged without being asked. His plan had occurred without snag. - The both homosexuals ? Did they belong to your plan ? - No ! This is a whole hazard. The funniest, it's that they seemed to be Russian. They took part, really unintentionally, to increase the fantastic side of our adventure. I should improvise some dialogs about them. I pulled through well ! - What would you have done if I had accepted their proposal ? she suggested with this rascal glimmer in the eyes that he would recognize among all.
13
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
- I would have been worried ! - So ? - Well… I would have invited them aboard ! No other choice ! Then, I would have explained as clear as possible the staging. Not easy ! - You spoke, just now, of the end of the police episode of the week-end. Which episode will we take part to, now ? - Now ? This one I prefer : the romantic one. We take off in a comfortable plane to Venice… * ** The jet flied over the Alps. The air hostess had served them a rapid Italian meal, as it was necessary in this case. One of his other ideas. He liked to organize meals based on themes. The first meal taken together, as he lived in the Vienne department, allowed of a Greek salad and a Tunisian wine, as an homage for the both countries Arlette appreciated the charms. He didn't want to demonstrate his talents of cooker, keeping himself more for love. And making love was good only with an empty stomach. The evening, in the plane, some anti-pasti and a salad with mozzarella had been served with a nip of Chianti and Arlette got a pure and delicious marvel of Tiramisu. Her companion avoided the dessert, liking better to reserve himself for her. When they stayed alone on the sofa, this little rogue of Eric kneeled down close to the Arlette's feet and laid his head on her belly. She put her hands on him, caressing his cheeks, his temples, playing with his hairs. He slipped his hands the calf long, went up to the side of her thighs. It made half open her legs. She desired his boy, his sex, his strength, and his tenderness. The idea of making love in the sky, in a plane, made her crazy. Crazy because of the idea that the pilots maybe had launched the automatic pilot system and, with the air hostess, they were ready to watch a scene as in an erotic theater. He climbed up the skirt to her waist, with kisses on the inner side of the thighs, where the skin is the sweetest. She didn't have got any pant, even the faintest string and her sex exhaled a flavor of wild honey. She should be totally soaking but he wanted more moistness. He seemed to search something. She didn't know about what until the television woke up suddenly. The videotape recorder started immediately. Pornographic pictures filed of on the screen. The videocassette, which only Arlette could see thanks to her position, was an anthology of the best movies of this family. An editing, made as a hit-parade, mixing learnedly lesbian scenes, the use of gadgets each crazier than the others, duos, trios, quartets and even a great chain of friendship between women (around fifteen) laying on the ground, forming a circle, pecking themselves their small apricots. This sight of different sexes, shaved or depilated for some of them, very thick for others, filled Arlette with a true excitement without limit. She got an orgasm when he was keeping himself busy of her clitoris with sweetness. Everything seemed her unreal : the very crude scenes, the sweetness of her lover's tongue, the feelings of the flight at an altitude of several thousands meters. She had no time to react after her emotions. His man let her any second of calm. He sat on the sofa, turned her and forced her to impale
14
With the masks off
herself on his penis stretched at its maximum. She was glossy, opened to all proposals ; he plunged in her slowly but surely, without meeting the faintest resistance. In their positions, Arlette could watch the movie, he took advantage of the bum of her partner that he kneaded and he just had to bend the head on the side to see the movie show on the giant screen. During the precise instant, when he bombarded her boiling belly, two men, Puerto Rican or Mexican, very sturdy, endowed of huge penis, kept themselves busy of a tiny Asiatic girl, looking like a dolly of rag between their hands. The scene was really unreal because the difference of sort between the both giants and the girl was spectacular. The both lovers couldn't take their eyes off from the screen when they saw two times twenty centimeters introduced in the both orifices of their prey, a man in her pussy, the other sodomizing her without care. Arlette and Eric believed that the Asiatic dolly would scream of pain but it didn't occur. She was probably used to receive the double penetrations with a high intensity and instead of screaming, she threw her head behind and her kidneys became agitated to look for the pleasure. Her long brown hairs slipped on her skin, hid him sometimes her face. Then, the man under this improvised sandwich put hers hairs up and placed them at the opposite side of the camera, to allow the producer to film all the enjoy of this beauty in heat. She howled her enjoy when they reached the maximum speed of up and down. The man over got out, turned her and they presented their homage made of cum she received on her face, on the throat and on the tits. At the same instant, Eric did the same thing : he threw Arlette on the sofa and freed himself directly in her mouth, just after being sure thanks to special groans, that she had appreciated the show on television and the staggering blows he had motioned strongly in her belly. She used her tongue to delight herself of white seed. Each time, they got an intensive pleasure of this phase of cleaning. He had known so many interdicts before, with his exwife, that he exulted of joy at each click of tongue that she did with a look enough to damn a saint. He didn't unbend of one centimeter ; always hard like iron, he bedded her and came on her, tearing out a sigh of pleasure when he touched her uterus. He worked on the given present, the thighs separated at the maximum, rejected over her shoulders. In this position, he split her totally, he tore her and she couldn't do anything to hinder him. She was obedient and dominated. The concept, the simple idea that he could be her master, gave her a shock wave in the whole body. Moreover, the shock waves began to link one after the others. Now, as he had expulsed the main part of his cum, he could go up and down as he wanted, during half an hour if he would like. Time had no importance, only the pleasure of Arlette had got importance. That brought her to madness : this sexual power, mocking itself totally of his limited physical abilities. She didn't want that he suffers for her but the pleasure, the enjoy, ah !… He made love so well… He was so able to endure, to go to the end of his energy while bending like a stag. She never ended to groan but couldn't take her eyes off the pornographic show. A man, with harmonious shapes, with chestnut hairs, black eyes, sodomized with a never-ending sweetness a superb browned hair girl with delicious turquoise blue eyes, six months pregnant. She was kneeling, the face against a small cushion, relaxed, smiling, encouraging her lover with gentle words. Arlette was fascinated by the roundness of the belly and this one of the young woman's boobs. They were swollen, stretched. The man caressed them
15
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
and that gave a mix of pleasure and relief to the intended mum. Arlette wanted to know. She stopped her lover, asked him to get out and turned herself. She gave him notice to copy the show on television. He made to slip his penis in the narrow duct as it was a special day (a little bit when we wore the beautiful clothes, for the going out of the Sunday, except that here, his sex had forgotten to dress itself !). He pushed slowly, caressing and splitting her beautiful both apples of love. Combining the sight of the pregnant woman and her man with the sexual act which joined them, they didn't last to explode of pleasure, fusing their bodies in the same time, proving one more time that there couldn't have more osmosis in the world than between these both persons. The second ejaculation weakened him but he wanted to stay in her, to respect the pleasure that his lovely accomplice gave him. He liked to prolong the feelings with sweetness, tenderness and love. For him, a man in love could be recognized by the delicacy not to sleep or to escape secretly, after the sexual act. Moreover, the act indeed didn't interest him so much, except to bring thousand and one feelings to his partner. No, the most important thing, that was the present moment : to stay in her while moving lightly, with a way nearly imperceptible, saturating her with sweet kisses in the neck, nibbling the ears, the shoulders, making slip his lips on the back and above all, primeval for him, expressing his thoughts by chosen words, with the most tender form as possible, laid in the ears. He wanted that she knows his feelings at every moment, that she knows he was crazy of their complicity without flaw. A man fully fallen in love and well brought up, respectful of his woman, had to do so much. Otherwise, for Eric, this kind of man belonged to the category of boors, a sort of porcine family to whom, alas, three time alas, the masculine race belonged in a large majority. That's the reason why that she felt an intense pleasure in her heart more important than an orgasm, when he whispered tender words close to Arlette. * ** Arlette didn't have any problem to sleep in the ivory satin's sheets. Near him, she felt curiously appeased, calm and serene. He emitted some favorable waves that, if the slogan wouldn't have been a registered trademark of Jacques Séguéla in 1981 for a president of the French republic, looked like the quiet strength. He reinsured her. However, she didn't ignore that he could be extremely fragile, even vulnerable. Emotion was written in his genes and sometimes, he couldn't to hold it. Really obsessed by the worry of perfection, he let himself down to the full discouragement, to the tears if he missed an aim or if he thought having put his foot in it. What he hated most, was to tell some unintentionally cutting words. The, he hated himself, wanted to cut off his tongue to punish himself, wanted to disappear under tons of stones thrown to his face to make him pay for his lapses of language. He was pitiless towards himself because he couldn't bare the faintest negligence from him, the negligence being the first cause of divorce, especially his one. Somebody knocked at the door of the bedroom. The master of the place was waked up and authorized to enter. A young chambermaid appeared, pushing a wag made of rattan : the breakfast ! She drew the curtains and the sunny light entered suddenly in the room. The room was spacious and had got a rich decoration. The last evening, Arlette didn't have time to admire the furniture, the ceilings with beautiful cornices and a colored Venetian luster. Easy to understand : the man, really in form, had rushed to her as a
16
With the masks off
hungry tiger. He had taken her a great part of the night, accepting to reveal only one new about the travel : he organized and economized cent by cent for ten months. When he revealed this detail, Arlette extracted two major indications : first, the organization and the payment for such a madness (the rental of the jet should swallow down a great part of the budget) was an enterprise respectable and remarkable because he had not let the faintest new (and, when we knew him, we knew that it was very difficult for him to keep a secret about the surprises he organized ; what he was looking for, it was to have the pleasure to torture pleasantly the other with no answer to her questions : he liked to play !). The second indication pleased her a lot : he was enough sure of their love, of its strength, quiet from the beginning of their relationship, to be certain that they would pass the Cape of the first birthday. She was on a cloud, as usually with him, because he did some tons of acts to give her dreams and it worked. Sometimes, she told him that she didn't know how to thank him, unable to find the words to do it, because the emotion embraced her. For him, this verbal silence was the most beautiful of the rewards. The faintest comment would have meant that there was something not perfect. Now, she was flabbergasted ! The bedroom was marvelous, the breakfast, especially the coffee, gave off some effluviums which charmed her nose and his man, very sweet this sunny morning, staid near her, his left hand on the interior of her thigh, so close of her sex needing a caress. Moreover, as the Italian employee poured the coffee, Arlette felt her desire to take shape. One more time, he had called his telepathic sense to guess what she thought. The sheet of the bed did a dark screen ; so, he began to titillate the clitoris, to masturbate her without being discovered by the employee, very pretty after all. She looked them with a large smile and this was the exact moment that Eric chose to plunge one finger between the wide opened lips. Arlette had some difficulties to hide her emotion, which gave a huge joy to the abominable profiteer. Helena, as it was written on her legal badge, stopped all her gestures, understanding suddenly that she took part to a surprising early show. She asked in a hesitating French if she could sit down at the bottom of the giant bed. Arlette sent him an affirmative sign. Then, she pushed away the sheet, revealing her intimacy occupied by a nervous finger. The Venetian girl, bewitched, could admire a special "emotion" of the man reaching summits. She was more excited when they changed of position : Arlette bent forward to administer a masterful masturbation with her mouth and she parted the legs to allow her man to caress her vulva from behind. Helena, seating on the border of the bed to take profit of the show, didn't resist a long time to the temptation to add her name to the title. She faced them and opened her marvelous thighs covered with Nylon. She didn't wear anything except a very thick black mop. The blackness of her hairiness could be compared with the blackness of her glittering eyes. She showed a delicious rose sex, parting very large the folds of bordered flesh. She masturbated herself frantically and had some pleasure very quick, very excited by the sight of the couple who loved in front of her. Arlette, very gentle, loaned the electric vibrator they had used during their night games. Helena, very impressed by the size of the engine, didn't seem to have a past opportunity to use a kind of gadget. She didn't need a very long time to adopt her new game companion. She inserted it slowly but regularly in the pussy, up to the hilt and started on.
17
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
Her bum moved in all directions, she took one of her boobs with a shape of pear to caress it and to suck the tit in the same time. She had some resources beyond suspicion. The both lovers licked theirs lips to see her to contort hers body like this. Eric could not resist more to the vision of the sex and the vibrator, to the feeling provoked by the tongue of Arlette on his penis and to the one of his hand nosing about the bum of his female lover. He released a furnished salvo of cum which started a noisy orgasm of Helena. The soubrette shamed almost to have joy and was ready to escape when she saw that she pleased them. She was for ever thanking when they accepted to give her the electric vibrator to allow her to continue, secretly or in front of her boy friend, to give herself some delicious and intense vibrations. That would stay an unforgettable souvenir for the three persons. - Did you enjoy ? Arlette asked. - And you ? - Yes… she acknowledged. - Me too ! - I want you ! - Come on under the shower ! he proposed, because he had noticed that the cabin was spacious enough to enter both. He drove her in the bathroom, prodigiously excited. The breakfast could wait, love not. * ** The most exotic things of Venice are the gondolas. So, they had walked on the channels, had kissed themselves under the bridge of the sighs as lovers, all the day long. They had cleared the Rialto, had thrown some bread to the hundreds of pigeons of San-Marco place and had visited the famous palace of Doges. They had eaten some Italian ices, welcomed during this period of moderate climate of the Adriatic. When the evening came, Arlette thought that they would have a dinner in the hotel which restaurant was famous or that he would bring her to a typical place of the ancient city. It didn't happen as she thought. They came back to the bedroom. On the bed, Arlette discovered a dress of Indian princess made of light blue, yellow and gold materials, with something to veil her face. Just near, the was a Maharaja dress with the traditional red turban of the Sikhs. - What a dress ! she said, full of admiration. - Your evening dress for a fancy dress ball, he commented, confident to India, the theme of theirs costumes, was a country Arlette liked. He didn't have forgotten an old remark, keeping all information he could use to give her pleasure. - A dress ball ? she said, just half-surprised because she didn't ignore that he disliked to dance when she liked to live music on a dance floor. - Yes. You will see ! he said simply.
18
With the masks off
He always liked so much mystery. She liked to build scenarios with him and he, never satisfied with the acts he did, realized it straight ! She asked herself, while preparing herself in the bathroom, where he would be able to go in the realization of dreams. Sometimes, and especially for the last 24 hours, she asked herself if he didn't believe to be Steven Spielberg, never stepping back in front of difficulties, falling into megalomania. No. That was only what a man fallen in love should do to please to the woman of his heart. When you knew the high level of the qualities Eric wanted for himself, a woman could be suffocated by such an overflowing and a careless macho man could be minimized. Of course, as he always was rushing at in the life, he risked the accident, the skid, the breaking of the motor. He risked to suffocate her female companion under a flood of emotions too invading, too extreme. That was the risk. He didn't ignore it. He was determined never to low his guard, to loose his vigilance. If his partner played the game, accepted to live with a gentle mad man keeping his feet on earth (he needed it to organize some surprises), that gave some "magic moments"… That what she lived. She almost had a choc when she discovered him with the dress and the turban. Except his pale dye and the color too light of his eyes, he had style of a king of a far region, ready to go for the Bengal tiger's hunting, on the back of a elephant. - You are lovely ! they said together, proving one more time that they were on the same wavelength. They left their bedrooms and never stopped to attract the looks and the comments in the corridor, in the lift and in the hall of the hotel. Were did he bring her ? How ? She knew immediately how with seeing a coach put to two white stallions (not actors of X movies but fidgeting horses), really flaming in their gold and red uniforms. A travel with a coach ! He was the only one able to imagine such a delirium. Arlette didn't stop to wag hers head to convince herself more that he had been rocked to close the walls when he was a baby. If he was on duty, as he liked to repeat, God had given him an imagination's credit without any limit. A coach ! No word could get out of her throat blocked by the emotion. How could a man be so rascal and so romantic ? Did it exist such a man mixing these kinds apparently opposed to themselves ? Was he a sort of schizophrenic where two characters cohabited with, where the duality lived forever ? Did he be created for her ? Who was he, really ? The knew him hardly. She knew nobody in his entourage. He showed her some photos of his children, of his parents but she never met them. Was it some souvenirs made for his mission ? She had gone to his home, in the Vienne region, the in Colombes. She only his female cat, Isis. The cat, often associated to the daemon in the popular believes, wrongly. A cat supposed to be wild with new persons, who had welcomed her with touching purring. Sometimes, he seemed ready to reveal her a terrible secret. He stopped suddenly, staying in the silence. Arlette had read "Dangerous mirages". Did Eric risk to go the hell if he failed to make her happy, if he failed to make her understand that some gentle men could exist, if she didn't build a new daily life ? Was it due to her imagination, enforced by the doubts created by her lover ?
19
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
How could she know if he wasn't born the last year, just for her, if he didn't have been "placed" on her way to help to return to life ? She would never know except if everything happened as in the novel… The only real thing, that was this sumptuous coach and its comfortable benches. They sat in. The coachman, dressed as a lackey, cracked his whip over the horses and the convoy moved off. - You make me dream ! Arlette said. - I hope that the following events will fill in you well ! The tears, of happiness, of joy, sent a trouble in the look of the princess. He saw her affected to the tears for the first time. Too much, he did too much and this happiness she always had some difficulties to believe, especially the first weeks of their story, this happiness overflowed in her heart. He didn't know any limit, she cracked up. She cracked because she always had been sure not to do to earn it. Despite these reproaches she gave to herself in her mind, he stayed imperturbable. He carried on to offer all what he could, such as nothing could cut into his will. Such as if nothing could prevent him to accomplish his… mission. Arlette simply forgot that to accept, to receive with joy, with a smile, that was already generous. She forgot that he was able to read her reactions in her eyes. Now, it was not useful to be telepathic to know. The tears flowed slowly. He did a sweet gesture to gather in the salted liquid. As the tear was on his finger, he made it slip on his own lips. Then, he approached her, he enclosed her with a never ending precaution and admired silently the lights of the town which streamed in front of them by the small window. She couldn't avoid to close her eyes, really touched by his tenderness. He raised up the colored and light cloth which hid her mouth. He went down to the throat and forced her to put her head rear. They stayed like this, one against the other, to the end of the travel. * ** After a dinner at a buffet worthy of the Italian court, Arlette and Eric strolled about the numerous guests of the fancy dress ball. A ball organized by Tours Operators, copied on the balls made by the Venetian nobility in the past. To this one, there were authentic aristocrats, professional dancers and guests who have paid for the evening. Arlette could dance with experimented, gloved and masked riders. Eric met some people while using English, German and Spanish in this cosmopolitan assembly. A bear, a horse guard, a tsarina and a geisha for him, a Royal Navy officer, a Sioux Indian and a penguin invited Arlette for waltzes or for tangos. The place welcoming the ball was totally respectful of the Doges spirit. That was one of their palaces which got numerous and giant rooms. The both lovers met again and decided to addict themselves to tourism, to be curious. They climbed the huge staircase leading to the floor. By common consent, they went to the summit of the palace. At the top, that was a true maze of corridors which crossed themselves at several points. It was enough to loose oneself. Arlette lost easily the sense of direction. Eric, this rascal, knew it perfectly. He did all he could do to be lost.
20
With the masks off
He invited her to enter in a room. It was night but the windows let enter the ashen glimmer of the moon. She knew. She desired. As the number of the rooms of the palace was countless, they didn't risk to be disturbed. He came behind her to be sure that she was receptive. She moved her buttocks and verified, through the fine material of her dress, that he bent his spongy muscle. He looked for her neck, to nibble it, to stroke it, to smell it, to kiss it. His hands enclosed the boobs, playing with the small rings distended by the desire. He pinched them pleasantly, forcing their erection. Then, the let the breast to give some pleasure to the belly, the waist and the hips. At this moment, they heard some noise. Was there somebody coming in that direction ? No. They went next door. In the darkness, Eric guessed the presence of a door. It should lead to the other room. - Come on ! he whispered. She followed him. In fact, the door led to a dark but glassy alcove. - This is a two-way mirror, he said. - What are they doing ? - What do you think ? - They seem to be ready to get entertainment ! - Do we stay ? - Of course ! Arlette confessed, full of desire to be the witness of a ball of another kind. There were two forty years old couples except one man which seemed fifteen years more old. His hairs looked silvered and soft. They took their clothes off as fast as possible. There was a beautiful threadlike blond hair girl, very tall, with style and she came with the skinny fifty years old man. The other couple was totally different. The woman was a very stimulating crossbreed woman, with close-cropped hairs and a body with rounded forms. The man looked like a Greek wrestler. Stocky, very shaggy, very small, almost one hundred and sixty centimeters. But what a spectacular surprise between his legs ! A long and large sex, monstrous ! He seemed having been stung by a hornet, just at this place. A thing of thirty centimeters, not less. The exotic kind reserved for special X videos. It was more spectacular because the guy was small. This disproportion bewitched the both voyeurs. They couldn't imagine how such an engine could introduce itself in the faintest orifice without causing some lacerated wounds because its largeness was over one of every sort of electric vibrator. This guy should represent the world reference, the maximum use model. At the beginning, the couples stayed united, side to site. Each man was busy with his female companion. The crossbreed woman, despite a large mouth, got some difficulties to swallow the engine of her husband. The blond hair woman had less difficulties, his husband having some middle-averaged attributes. She was very active, sucking her husband with violence, injuring him. From the place they were hidden, the both lovers took totally advantage of the show and could hear all what they said. The preliminaries were quiet short because were very excited by the building of the quartet. The blond woman came to make an exhibition in front of the other man, refusing that her man was the first to force her sex. She separated her legs very strongly, nearly to the square, to
21
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
receive the whole engine. The small crossbreed laid near her and drove one of her beautiful boobs in the blond woman's mouth. The voyeurs understood the reason of this gesture. It was made to choke back the screams of the burgess woman that they heard screaming in her breast. The crossbreed woman should know the result produced by the penetration of her husband. This one, very sweet with his wife one minute before, had changed to a brute beast thirsty of sex with this unconscious woman who provoked him. She wanted to be taken without care and been wide opened, she had it ! Her husband was apart, on another bed. He got masturbation consciously, slowly, without loosing the faintest crumb of what he could compare with a rape. The blond woman split hers sides pain under the ram's knocks of the small man. The crossbreed woman offered her sex to suck which helped the woman to forget the pain. Like this, she could be really excited and could receive the beast up to the hilt. Taken like this, he should push her uterus up to the intestines ! Curiously, the first woman who got absolute enjoyment was the brown hair girl, thanks to the tongue on her pussy. - End of the romantic part and beginning of the erotic episode ! Eric whispered. After these words, he decided to verify if the show exhilarated Arlette. Without any warning, he sunk the fingers in her panty, as a raider of the lost source. He got no difficulties to find : she was so flooded that he needed to launch immediately the emergency plan. In two times, three movements, he ran her through sweetly but steadily. She held a cry of love. She didn't want to risk the end of the exchange show. She wanted to see. She liked to see. She accomplished one of her fantasies with the man she loved and who took care of her. She looked the small man with a mix of desire, attraction and fear. Suddenly, he changed of partner. He attended to his wife, letting the other one quivering. Instead of the large way, he preferred the straight and narrow. He sodomized her by the rear and she didn't move, she didn't say any word. The fifty years old man came closer to admire the scene. He seemed to be passive and preferred to be a voyeur than an actor. The blond woman, a little bit more aware, believed to be the victim of a mirage. How did the other woman to shut up her pain ? She should have learnt self control. It was impossible that she didn't feel anything. She wanted to clear the matter up. - Look at her, this thirsty ! Eric uttered. She wants more. I wonder why her husband is waiting for. - He is a voyeur, isn't it ? - He seems, said the man behind the two-way mirror, as he increased his speed in the Arlette's belly. The blond woman pushed the crossbreed and took her place. She received the Greek stick directly in the pussy and bit her lips up to blood. However, she resisted. Her husband delighted himself of the twisting which agitated her body. He accelerated the rhythm and spouted in the mouth of the crossbreed girl. The wrestler ended also to let his cum when the both voyeurs did the same thing behind the two-way window. Arlette
22
With the masks off
enjoyed a lot, probably as never she did before. It was so exciting ! She had envied the women because they had been filled in as more as possible. But she was upset when she saw the brown man falling on a sofa, the sex totally softheaded, while the man with the gray hairs, despite his ejaculation, came in the buttocks of his wife, the way largely opened. The crossbreed woman attended alternately to him and his wife. She let her husband to his sad destiny, thinking that there was nothing more to do with him. She laid under the other woman, top to bottom, to take advantage of this frenzied tongue which gave her one first orgasm and to admire the small male sex, fast and active. She plunged a finger in the anus of the man who appreciated and didn't last to fire a second salute that the both women, very friends now, tailed voraciously. The couples were formed again quickly, took the clothes up and let the creased materials of the bedroom. Arlette was in a semi-conscious state, surfeited of pleasure, of emotion and excitement. And what about her burning sex, black and blue all over : it was without life… - Did you enjoy the show ? her partner asked her. - Yes ! - What a performance ! - You mean… You planned all ? You organized all of this ? He didn't answer. He just smiled and raised up his eyebrows. It meant that he was the only one who knew the answer and that he never will reveal it. He wanted to keep a drop of mystery around him, as a magician who doesn't speak of his tricks. He had spoken of "magic moments" and to stay magic, he didn't draw the curtains on the backstage. This evening or the morning, they made love again, slowly, for a long time, as in Tunisia, while remembering the best parts of the show. The went farther in the osmosis, further than they never went. * ** Sunday morning. It was almost ten hours. Arlette felt a sweet kiss but an unusual mouth. She believed to dream. She could hear the water pouring. Her companion was not against her, he was in the bathroom. But who ?… She opened her yes. It was Helena, the young Italian girl. - I wanted to thank you for the gadget. He gave me a lot of pleasure. - So much the better ! Arlette said. You can keep it and use it everyday ! - It's really nice. - You… You kissed me or I dreamed ? - I kissed you, Helena said, become red on the cheeks. - You desired it ? - Very much ! Helena, not very fierce, ventured to steal another kiss. Then, she became more insisting and searched the tongue. She took off her shoes and laid on Arlette to make her to
23
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
vibrate. She wanted the contact of the sweet skin, so warm at the wake up. She gave herself to Arlette, surprised but attracted. It was so new, so sweet, so melting. A pure delight. The maidservant attended to the sex offered as a juicy apricot. She bit it with her beautiful teeth with a non hidden pleasure. Paddling in the bath, the lover of the night was far to imagine that his female companion ended an unbearable suspense : which taste had a woman's tongue on her body ? What could feel a man when a woman attended to him ? Now, she knew and understood why he was sure that a woman was ten thousands times more interesting than a man. A man was like a candy with frozen mint : a strong, tonic, taste. A woman was like a candy with honey : suave, appeasing, full of sensations they will remember a long time. Sex against sex, after a mad 69, they ended to enjoy silently, Arlette sucking the tits of the young woman, stroking her glittering hairs, the Italian girl masturbating the clitoris of Arlette with a perfect fingering, touching lightly the small button with efficacy. As they were ready to groan, they kissed themselves. Eric believed to listen a noise : he thought that his partner wanted some lonely pleasure. So much the better ! It was not useful to deprive oneself of pleasure and she would be ready to receive him. When he heard the door closing itself, he couldn't know that his mistress had accomplished a fantasy. When they left the hotel around twelve o'clock, with regrets but without bitterness, Arlette carried off this small secrete with her. A very small secrete of a crazy weekend. A small secrete that she would reveal to Eric, one day, maybe, to excite him more. He would like to see such a sweetness, she was sure. He would hide himself and would not loose any crumb. On the other hand, he would surely loose some drops of emotion. So ended the erotic episode, the most erotic that she lived in a weekend. The return, because they should return, on a regular airline, with very wise air hostesses and stewards, would be obviously more ordinary. However, Arlette wasn't sure of that. With him, everything could happen. With imagination, he could do all… That was the privilege of the writer.. He did his mission so perfectly. * **
24
With the masks off
Thanks : -
To Tunisia, land of miracles. To the bus, means of transport (to the seventh heaven). To the Wright's brothers because they had the idea to fly like birds and they invented airplanes. To men and women who have got the good idea to escape when they face minds stronger than theirs. To hazard, luck and coincidences. To fantasy and fantasia. To the fakirs ! And I don’t' want to hear the fat woman saying that he wasn't worth any nail ! To France Telecom and Bouygues corporation for their telephonic furnishings. To www.youjusthavetotakeoffall.com which used our erotic conversations to make a best-seller. To Marc Dorcel Video which lent us the videotape called "Where did you enter in, I didn't see you coming !" To Viagra drug which doesn't cost any cent when you don't need it. To female nurses, wise and exemplary, under their white smocks, in all circumstances. To Arlette, the sweetest female nurse. To God, because he created jasmine, beaches of sand and the female nurses. To Peter, Paul, John, Jack, Matthew, Gabriel, Theresa, Blandine and all my pals in the heaven who gave me some courage and supported me to obtain a new mission.
25
