Power circles crave exclusivity. Sumptuous venues. Unrestrained lust. Boredom hit hard. Happy End appeared. Not for me as victim. I commissioned it. Ten years post-breakup, Serge haunted. Timid student then. Now, mine to reclaim. Perfect closure in luxury.
Salle Gaveau first. Crystal chandeliers gleam. Velvet seats hug curves. He spots me. ‘You’re here.’ Neutral ‘Bonsoir.’ Stolen glances pierce darkness. Symphony swells. Post-concert, Haussmann brasserie. Leather banquette sighs under us. Vodka slides cool, sharp. Lies of no change. Truth: I’m beauty now. Talk drifts intimate. Wedding invite ignored. ‘Not healed.’ Alcohol loosens. Erotic book memory. Woman spies couple fucking behind curtain. Her resistance then. Regret now. Tease builds. Second Bach concert promised.
The Privilege
Two weeks later. Shadowed corner seats. Bach’s suites dictate daring. Suite 1 Sarabande: His hand claims knee. Firm press. ‘Stop,’ I hiss. He climbs. Skirt rides up. Heart races. Suite 2 Gigue: Arm snakes shoulders. I tense, yield. Suite 3 Bourree: Thigh next. Fingers breach. Pantyhose damp. Legs part. Wet folds yield. Suite 4 Courante: Blouse parts. Zipper whispers. Breasts firm, nipples peak. Suite 5 Prelude: Panties aside. Bush curls soft. Fingers plunge hot slick. I gasp. Suite 6 Allemande: Grip his cock. Thick, rigid through pants. Stroke velvet steel. Mutual frenzy. Exquisite restraint.
Rue de Penthièvre hôtel. Eighteenth-century folly. Discreet portal hums open. Lush lawns flank alley. Marble lobby cool. Receptionist’s smile professional. Suite key heavy brass. Silk sheets shimmer. Champagne chills in silver bucket. Bubbles burst crisp, golden. Pull mirror curtain. One-way glass. Darken room. Couple enters adjacent. She: chignon, curves in tailor-fit. He: bespoke suit. Clothes shed swift. Lace bra cups swells. Self-fix stockings taut. His boxer sags. We strip. My skin prickles air-conditioned hush. Adorned pillows prop us. His tongue laps clit. Fingers curl inside. Waves crash. I shudder ‘Yes.’ Her fingers now mine on him.
The Excess
Door swings. Masked duo nude. Wolves prowl. Quatuor ignites. First woman doubly taken. Cock face, shaft rear. Rhythms sync. Masked female toys pussy. Vibrations hum visible. Buzz twists. Clit hood peels. I reverse cowgirl him. Impale deep. His hands roam tits, clit. Eyes locked on chaos. She cums, roars muffled. Doggy now. He slams. Folds grip. I buck, grind. ‘Fuck me harder.’ Obscenities spill. Pounding peaks. Explosive release. Bodies quake.
Quatuor dissolves. Shower beckons. Steam rises. Gel slicks curves. Fingers probe soap-sudsy. Last caresses. He trips on bag. Charles Marquenterre’s card tumbles. Confrontation outside. ‘You?’ Shock ripples. I confess. My order. My gift. To end unfinished tale. Tears well. Arms enfold. Lips crash. No words. Just heat. Happy end seals it. Glass walls guard secrets. Penthouse view twinkles Paris. Elite discretion absolute.
