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Subject: The appointment Pt.2 (F/F nc)
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THE APPOINTMENT Pt.2

Viviane fell on one of the orange plastic seats, that lined the walls of
the station. The stations sign read "Ile Perdu". Viviane couldn't
remember ever having been here, but that didn't mean much, Paris had
millions of metro stations. How long had she been on the train? Twenty
minutes, an hour – she didn't know. The station was desert. "I'll take
the next train in the opposite direction", she thought. But then she saw
her naked legs and remembered her mission. She realized, it would be
difficult to make her presentation half naked. She put the cardbord
folder to the seat next to her and inspected the crotch of her
bodystocking. No way to fasten it, the last button was gone. She took a
look around, but the station was still empty. The panel indicating the
next train wasn't yet lit. She got up. Her legs felt shaky. The metro
station seemed to be one of Paris' oldest. The tiles covering the narrow
conneting tunnels bore still the beautiful art deco ornamentals, the
iron gates were ornate, black paint applied over nearly a century of
rust. Towering over the stairway stood a beautiful sign with the
"metropolitain"-stroke. The entrance of the station lay in a quiet
avenue, shady trees flanked the cobbled street.

Tall old houses stood behind neatly trimmed gardens. Something was
strange but Viviane couldn't find out. Anyway, it was only a minor
problem. The tall blonde wound her jacked around her hips, tying the
sleeves in a knot, to cover her backside.  The front of her legs up to
her tummy was still naked, so she had to hide behind the bulky folder.
The avenue seemed endless in either direction. Vivianes shoes felt kind
of soggy and she yearned for a washroom and fresh clothes. She checked
her watch. Dammit, she really was late. Fumbling through the pockets of
her jacket she found her cellular phone. "Hello? Yes, good morning, this
is Viviane Dechamps calling, I have an appointment with…" she went
through her pockets again – where was that goddam note – "… with
Catherine Loiseau. Yes. Right. No, there is a problem, I will be late.
Could you tell… no – wait a second. What? Where I am? Hold on…" The
houses bore neat blue signs with the numbers printed on and – thank
heavens – the name of the street. "I'm at 235 Rue des Martyrs Inconnus.
But I must… well I still have to… what? No, of course not. No, as I was
trying to tell you, I had a little – well, yeah, that's okay. No, fine,
it's perfect. Yes, I will wait." Viviane put the phone back in her
pocket. Yanel said, they would send a limo. They wouldn't wait and they
would pick her up NOW. Viviane cursed. She still felt dizzy. The
incident in the subway, the shame. Anger grew within her. She had wetted
herself like a child. And – it hit her like a smash on the head – she
had been filmed. Whatever pervert sonofabitch ran the subways with a
handycam in search for a good shot, he certainly had something on tape
now to jack off from until chrismas. Something was strange about this
street, she thought and looked again up and down the road. Then it
struck her: There were no cars. No cars on the street nor on the
pavement, not even a garage. Where the hell am I? Warm sunlight had
dried her wet thighs, leaving only a sticky feeling. Viviane took a look
around. The street looked dead silent. She put down the folder and
squatted behind. With two fingers she held open her sex and carefully
inspected her labia. Her clitoris was still erect and her inner lips
swollen. She flinched, when she touched the bright red bud. It was still
too sensous.

The oldfashioned black Citroen limousine silently stopped right beside
her. She hadn't even heard it coming. The drivers window slid down.
Viviane struggled on her feet, quickly grasping the folder to cover her
naked sex. "Are you Viviane Dechamps?" She nodded. The chauffeur opened
his door and got out. "May I help you with this?" he said, reaching for
her folder. "Oh, no, I'll take care of it myself, thank you." "Excuse
me, Madam, but even though this is a big car, your briefcase doesn't
seem to fit in together with you. I'll put it in the trunk." He still
held out his hand. Viviane hesitated. What could she possibly do? The
people at Yanel were most certainly angry waiting. But that was nothing
compared to what Gerard held in hand when she returned empty-handed. She
sighed and handed over the folder. The drivers eyes immediatedly settled
on her bare pubis, then on her face. Viviane blushed. What now, jerk,
she thought. Then she stuck her tongue out at him. The Chauffeur
hastened to open the door for her. Whith a gracious smile she entered
the car. The limousine's interieur was clad in beige leather. The seat
glued to her bare legs. Viviane shifted restlesly. Her thighs felt
sticky. "How far is it?" she asked after a while. She got no answer so
she stared out of the window. "Excuse me, could we just make a little
detour? I need a…" "You need what?" "No, nothing. Forget it." The driver
gave her a curious look in the mirror. "Whatever you say." He rearranged
the rearview mirror. Now he looked directly in her face. Viviane fumbled
in her jackets pockets, produced a pair of old fashioned Ray Ban
Sunglasses and looked out the window.

Viviane expected Yanel's headquarters to be in one of the modern
buildings close to the Seine. But the limo continued on the Rue des
Matyrs Inconnus (funny name, she thought, Paris is bigger than I
expected). Eventually, the car  slowed down. She couldn't tell any
difference from where the car had picked her up. The avenue still looked
the same, neat tall classicist houses behind neat gardens. The limo
entered a driveway and stopped in front of a beautiful building. A black
marble sign at the side of the entrance read "Yanel" in golden letters.
The chauffeur opened the door. Viviane started and covered her lap. She
stepped out of the car. The chauffeur took her folder out of the trunk.
"Mme Deschamps?" A receptionist in a plain blue costume came down the
steps. Her brunette hair was stuck under a neat blue cap. The leather
soles of her black suede shoes made scratching noises as she walked
across the gravel. She casted a look on Vivianes hands covering her
pubis. "Oh. Did you loose your… erh… skirt?" (No, somebody cut it from
me in the fucking subway before bringing me to orgasm in plain public so
that I wet myself all over, stupid bitch.) "Well, yes I mean no. I
just…" The girl held out her hand. "Welcome at Yanel" she said with a
friendly smile. Viviane shook her hand. She felt so stupid; she tried to
act – well how? normal? They must think I'm out of my brains, it shot
through her mind. She followed the receptionist up into the hall. The
chauffeur carrying her layouts had vanished. "Hey, hold on" Viviane
protested, "he still has my folder". "Don't bother, you'll get it in a
minute, he just brings it upstairs." Viviane shrugged.

The interior of the hall was stunning. A broad swung stairway coiled
down from a gallery, covered with a dark red carpet. The floor and the
lower part of the walls were clad with dark marble, from waistheight on
the walls were covered in dark polished wood. Light fell through two
high gothic windows on either side of the hall. From the ornate ceiling
hung a huge golden candelier. Everything was held in an expensive
oldfashioned chic. The receptionist was back at her desk. "Mme Loiseau?
Yes, Mme Deschamps is here to see you. Yes, I will tell her." The
brunette put down the phone. "Mme Loiseau will see you in a minute.
She's still in a meeting. Would you like to wait in the lounge
upstairs?" Viviane nodded and followed the girl. She was led up the
stairs onto the gallery. A broad club sofa and matching armchairs were
arranged around a small table. Renaissance paintings hung in golden
frames from the wood-panelled walls. She had never assumed TV-people
having such a good taste. "Can I get you a coffee?" "No, thank you, but
you could show me to a bathroom, please." "Yes, of course, but…" The
girl blushed. A door opened and out came a redheaded woman in her
forties. "Ah, Viviane Deschamps. Excuse me, I kept you waiting."
Catherine Loiseau had a winning smile on her face. Her blue eyes threw
sparks as she crossed the room and approached the two women. She was
dressed in a light blue blouse, collar put up. Her faded denim jeans
were just short enough to show her tanned ankles and her feet, being
clad in brown suede mocassins. With about five feet four she wasn't
merely as tall as Viviane, but evenly slim.

When she held out her hand to greet Viviane, it was obvious she was
about forty, but she looked like thirty. Her red hair was piled in a
knot at the back, some strands falling in her face. "You have a
beautiful sex" the manager adressed Viviane, shaking her hand.
"Hrhm…Wwwhat…?" The blond girl blushed. "I said: You have a beautiful
sex", the elder woman repeated patiently, still smiling. "May I look at
it?" "What?" Viviane craoked, her face as red as a stop sign. Without
waiting for an answer Catherine Loiseau squatted before Viviane, looking
up. As if asking to be shown an interesting watch or a beautiful gem she
said again: "May I look at your sex?" There wasn't anything kinky about
her, only mere couriosity. Viviane looked at the receptionist girl as if
for approval. The receptionists face was almost as red as Vivianes. She
shrugged her shoulders in a helpless motion. Viviane cleared her throat.
"Well, yes, of course, but I'll…" she stuttered. "Mme Dechampsasked for
the bathroom" the brunette girl burst out. The elder woman had turned
her attention to Vivanes sparsely haired mound. "Alix, would you kindly
take care of Vivianes jacket?" She undid the knot, that held the garment
in place, and threw it to her assistant. "You haven‘t got to shave, have
you" she looked up with the same winning smile. She didn't wait for an
answer but placed her dry warm hand on Vivianes belly, stroking the soft
skin. Viviane shivered. Without warning, the redhead softly cupped her
sex with her hand. Viviane wanted to retreat. "Sschhh…" With her other
hand, Mme Loiseau held her by the knee. Then she gently parted her labia
with her middlefinger. Vivane squirmed.

"You have very soft skin" Mme Loiseau remarked. "What do you think,
Alix?" she said, looking up to the girl. The receptionist approached and
knelt beside her boss. Where am I? Viviane thought. I hope they cleaned
their gynecologists gear. The receptionist neared her hand to the lips
held invitingly open by the older woman. She casted a glance at Viviane
which in turn stared at the ceiling. "Touch it, it feels like living
silk." Alix obeyed, shyly tracing the folds of Vivianes sex with her
fingertips. "Look how big her clit is." Alix examined the shiny pink bud
and gave it a gentle nudge. Alex started, but the hand around her knee
held her in place. "See – it pulses when you touch it. "Look, I came
here for a presentation and I ah… I know I was late and it's not normal
to visit a client half naked, but could we not just…ohh… no… not… there…
couldn't you just hand me a… ah… no, don't… hmm" she mumbled. The girl
had started to gently massage her sprout with a light fingertip. "Yes, I
think you're right", the manager said, standing up again. She sniffed at
her finger. "Maybe you should really see the bathroom" she said, and
when she saw the shocked expression on Vivianes face, she burst out
laughing. "It's allright, my dear", She put her arm around Vivianes hip
and gave her a friendly hug, still laughing. "You can call me
Catherine." She took the stunned blonde by the hand and led her to the
door where she had entered. "Alix, will you see for Vivianes layouts?
We'll need them in my office."

Catherine led Viviane to a hallway. A thick carpet covered the floor.
The ceiling was lit by huge brass bowls fixed to the wall. "You may
wonder why we wouldn't want to tell you about the business Yanel's
doing. But you see, descretion is very important. You'll soon find out
why." Catherine opened a heavy wooden door. A swell of warm humid air
escaped. "We are producing interactive multimedia entertainment", the
manager continued. The room was tiled in blinding white. Catherine drew
her inside. "We have a worldwide clientel – we will not call them
spectators, because that is an insufficient description." Sun fell
through the glass roof, bathing erverything in a warm sunlight.
Catherines face took a compassionate expression. "Come over here." She
took a white towel from a pile and led Viviane to a bathtub inserted in
the floor. The tub seemed to be made of black glass, looking quite
comfortable. It had an almost anatomical design. There were rests for
the arms, the ground was formed to receive the back. The lower part was
equally adapted with two elevations to support the knees. There was an
intricate design carved out of the bottom and nozzles embedded in the
sides. The elder woman knelt down and opened the faucets. Water ran into
the tub in a broad fresh stream. After some seconds, she checked the
temperature with her hand. Then she took place on a stool on the other
side of the room, the towel placed on her knees, her hands folded on the
cloth. When Viviane gave her a puzzled look, she nodded reassuringly.


Viviane stepped out of her shoes and pulled the body stocking over her
head. The water was not too warm. She sat on the side of the tub and let
her body glide in. Catherine sat on her stool, her eyes closed, sunlight
painting her hair in golden streaks. Viviane relaxed. "What kind of show
is it, you are producing?" Catherine opened her eyes. "Adult
entertainment." "You mean porno movies?" Catherine gave her a serious
look. "No. It's a brand new idea. Thrilling. And, well…" her eyes took a
mocking epression. She laid the towel aside and stood up. "Maybe I
should give you some practical demonstration" she said with a wicked
smile, kicking her mocassins off. She crossed the room on bare feet and
knelt down behind Viviane. She pushed against a tile and with a soft
click, a hidden compartment opened. Catherine took out a head-set and
placed it carefully on Vivianes hair. Viviane was about to jump from the
tub, water splashing on the tiles. "Shhhh… relax." Viviane slowly glid
into the tub again, trying to eye over her shoulder. Catherine fixed the
device with a velcro strip and attached small electrodes to Vivianes
temples, front and behind her ears. "What the f… – what is that?" "Don't
worry, it does no harm." Catherine picked some kind of remote control
and carefully closed the compartment again. Than she sat crosslegged  at
the side of the tub. "Spread your legs a little, darling." Viviane heard
a soft humming and the tubcame in motion, adjusting to her forms. Around
her pelvis, the sides moved closer, immobilizing her hips. Right between
her thighs, a part of the bottom slowly rose until it broke the surface.
Now the tub had completly adapted to the form of her body. "Dont't be
alarmed. It's just a kind of game. You will like it." Catherine pushed
another button. The water became alive. Soft jetstreams started gentle a
massage of Vivianes back and her hips. "How does it feel." "Not too
bad." Viviane was still nervous. Another buttton, another jetstream came
to life and stroked her legs and knees. It felt good, she had to admit.
The waters surface started to show small bulges. Viviane closed her
eyes. What's that got to do with a game, she thought. I could lie here
for ages. The water got warmer.

Catherine now sat cross-legged beside the tub. "A water molecule consits
of how many atoms?" "What?" Vivianes face was a living question mark.
"How many atoms make up a water molecule? Come on!" "Two hydrogen, one
oxygen. Why?" Catherine gave an approving nod. "Right", she pushed a
button. Another faucet got active, this one right between her buttocks.
"Huh!" The warm water softly washed through the intimacy of her anal
cleft. "Is it too strong?" "No, it just came so surprising." The stream
gently pulsed, tickling her anus. Viviane wiggled her behind. "Now: What
town is called the Eternal City?" "That‘s Rome." The jetstream in her
back was joined several more aligned along the inside of her thighs down
to her knees, gently kneading her legs in a pulsing rythm. "It tickles."
"What does the theorem of Pythagoras say?" "Hhmm… wait… something with
squares. It's the sum of the two squares of a triangle that equals the
square of… I forgot the rest." "Thats not enough." The water between her
thighs came to a rest. Viviane moaned. Wrong answer, no cookie. This was
weird. "Who was the first man on the moon?" "Armstrong!" "That's
correct." Catherine smiled. The warm water started to rush again. "Where
are the United Nations headquarters?" "Geneva?" Catherine frowned. "Oh,
no it's New York" Viviane quickly corredted herself. Two new jetstreams
came to life. Set about two inches apart, they parted her labia and
washed through the soft folds, exposing the pink flesh. "Huh, this is…"
"You like it?" "Hmmm… yes. It's… very… sensual…"

"Who was Moctecuzoma?" Viviane had her eyes closed, her body swayeing
layzily, supported by a cushion of pulsating warm water. "What?" "Who
was Moctecuzoma?" Catherine repeated her question. "Oh. He was the last
aztec king." "Good girl." The stream between her thighs grew stronger.
Her labia now received a steady massage, slapping slightly under the
pressure. "Who fought in the battle of Trafalgar?" Viviane had
difficulties to concentrate. The streaming water trapped her in a gaze.
Small waves of pleasure traveled up and down her spine. She didn't
really want to be disturbed right now. In a dreamlike gaze she stared
through the waters surface, watching the pleasuring stream fondling the
folds of her sex, gently pushing her small lips this way and that.
"…ahhhdon't know" she moaned. Without warning the jets ceased. Viviane
jerked with disappointment. "Nohhh… please. Keep it running!" Viviane
burst out. Not now. She sat boltright in the tub. "Who fought the battle
of Trafalgar?" "Lord Nelson. He defeated the french fleet in
eighteenhundredand…" "That's sufficient." The faucets came to life
again. Viviane let out a moan of pleasure, falling back into the tub. A
swoosh of water washed over Catherines feet and soaked her jeans. "Hey –
careful!" Viviane had her eyes closed, smiling. The warm streams
continued their intimate massage. She licked her lips. "This… ahhhh… is
it? Hhmmm… a kinky version of… oaahhhhh… of Trivial Pursuit?" "Not
entirely. You'll see. Who said the words: Timeo danaos et dona
ferentes?" "I'll take a… ahhh I'll take a huhhh… a…joker." She tried to
gyrate her hips, to direct the streams of water directly on her clit.
But it was impossible, the tubs walls held her pelvis firmly in place,
allowing no sideward movement. "There are no jokers in this game, sorry.
Do you know the answer?" "Oh please, ohhh… don't…" Viviane writhed in
the tub, sending waves of water over the rim. Her breathing came in
quick takes now, her cheeks had picked up a healthy red color. "It was
Cato, Cato the elder. Roman senator" she pressed out quickly. She wasn't
far from climax now.


Viviane sensed the muscles in her stomach tensing. Only a little bit
more and she would… "Who won the 1985s Wimbledon tournament?" "Jimmy
Connor? John McEnroe? Vilander? I don't know… pleeeese, don't let it…
Nooooohhhhhh… NO!" All jetstreams had stopped. Viviane trashed the water
with both fists in despair, her beautiful face a mask of anger. With a
quick movement she turned in the tub, sending more water over the rim.
She tried to grab for the remote control. With a quick movement
Catherine held it out of her reach. "Get back in the tub." "No. Give me
that stupid control." "Get back in the tub." Viviane obeyed, pouting.
Just a few more seconds was all it took, she knew. She fell back in the
tub, heaving. "Which ear did van Gogh cut off?" "His left." The
jetstreams went back to work. A flash of pleasure shot through her.
Catherine allowed her to float for a minute, then she reduced the force
of the jetstreams, taking away the edge of arousal. "Who was director of
the film Metropolis in 1926?" Catherine held out the remote control, a
finger hanging over the button. Release was so close. Vivianes eyes
started to plea. "It was… hnghhh… it was… oahhh…" Catherines finger
approached the button "It… aaaaahhhhh… Frisssssss Langgggghhhhhhh… !"
The finger came down. The pulsing and throbbing of the water beams
treating her labia intensified. Viviane purred and moaned, approaching
orgasm like a steam engine. "Okay, here is the final one. You miss it,
the game is over. Got it?" Viviane nodded dreamly. "What is a photon: A
particle or a wave?" "Hmmm… you shouldn't… underestimate… my education.
It's both… it's both at the same time… a dualism… ahhhhhh…" Catherine
smiled. "That's right. And the winner is…" She pushed one final button,
then set aside the remote control and watched the girl writhe.

Viviane gave her a questioning look. Catherine nodded reassungly,
smiling. Suddenly, Vivianes mind exploded. With a short delay, another
jet started, aimed right at the center of her sex. The hood of her
clitoris was drawn back by a fine pulsing stream of water. Small ripples
wandered over the tensed skin as the beam moved quickly up and down her
shaft. "OHMYGOHHHD!! Yaaahhhhh… ooaahhhh… that feels so
goodsogoodsogooooood…" The streams relentlessly pushed against her sex,
setting free a bonfire of nervous stimulation. She grabbed for the rim
of the tub, her feet helplessly kicking water. The climax made her shake
like an autumn leave in a storm. Catherine leaned down, studying the
girls contorted features: "You are beautiful, when you orgasm, darling."
Viviane didn't really her, and anyway, it didn't matter. The orgasm kept
on rushing through her clenched guts like a giant wave.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…" Viviane spasmed, spraying water all over the
place. The sensation grew too strong, getting painful. With her last
strength, Vivian tried to raise from the tub that was about to become
her iron maiden. Catherine licked her lips, then she pushed down the
girls belly again, studying the contorted features of the girl writhing
in the water. And almost without a break Viviane fell into the abyss of
a second orgasm. All energy had left her limbs, only the muscles of her
stomach still had the strength to spasm. Sensless babbling escaped her
lips. "Stop it… hnchrch… arch… you're killing me… make it stop please,
archhh… it's too much…" "You liked it in the subway, didn't you?"
Catherine whisperd in her ear, gloating over Vivianes torture. All of a
sudden, the jetstreams stopped. Vivianes face became ashen. "What?" was
all she managed to whisper with feeble lips. Then she fainted.

To be continued

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