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From: Gaucho <100550_1306g@csi.com>
Subject: Viviane 2/5 The company (F/F nc)
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This is a work of fiction written for my own entertainment.
Please refrain from reading if you're offended or too young.
If like it, send me a note: 100550_1306g@csi.com
There are yet three parts, and I intend on writing two more.
Vivianes Appointment
Part Two
Viviane fell on one of the orange plastic seats which 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
deserted.
"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 cardboard 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 connecting
tunnels still bore the beautiful art deco ornamentation: 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 figure it out. Anyway, it was only a
minor problem. The tall blonde wound her jacket 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. Viviane's
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 Christmas.
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 sensuous.
The oldfashioned black Citroen limousine silently stopped
right beside her. She hadn't even heard it coming. The driver's 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 driver's eyes immediately 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. With a
gracious smile she entered the car. The limousine's interior was clad
in beige leather. The seat stuck to her bare legs. Viviane shifted
restlessly. 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 Martyrs 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 Viviane's 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 waist
height 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 chandelier. Everything was belonged
to 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-paneled 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 moccasins. 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 said to 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 croaked, 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 curiosity. Viviane
looked at the receptionist girl as if for approval. The receptionists
face was almost as red as Viviane's. She shrugged her shoulders in a
helpless motion.
Viviane cleared her throat. "Well, yes, of course, but I'll -,"
she stuttered. "Mme Dechamps asked for the bathroom," the brunette
girl burst out. The elder woman had turned her attention to Viviane's'
sparsely haired mound. "Alix, would you kindly take care of Viviane's
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 Viviane's 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 middle finger. Viviane 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 gynecologist's gear.
The receptionist raised her hand to the lips held invitingly
open by the older woman. She casted a glance at Viviane who in turn
stared at the ceiling. "Touch it, it feels like living silk." Alix
obeyed, shyly tracing the folds of Viviane's 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
Viviane's face, she burst out laughing. "It's alright, my dear." She
put her arm around Viviane's 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 look for Viviane's
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, discretion 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 clientele - we will not call
them spectators, because that is an insufficient description."
**********
Sun fell through the glass roof, bathing everything in a warm
sunlight. Catherine's 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 older 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 her 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 expression. She laid
the towel aside and stood up. "Maybe I should give you some practical
demonstration," she said with a wicked smile, kicking her moccasins
off.
She crossed the room on bare feet and knelt down behind
Viviane. She pushed against a tile in the floor and with a soft click, a
hidden
compartment opened. Catherine took out a head-set and placed it
carefully on Viviane's hair. Viviane was about to jump from the tub,
water splashed on the tiles.
"Shhhh - relax."
Viviane slowly slid into the tub again, trying to eye over her
shoulder. Catherine fixed the device with a velcro strip and attached
small electrodes to Viviane's 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 tub moved, 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 completely adapted to the form
of her body.
"Don't be alarmed. It's just a kind of game. You will like it."
Catherine pushed another button. The water became alive. Soft
jet streams started gentle a massage of Viviane's back and her hips. "
How does it feel?"
"Not too bad."
Viviane was still nervous. Another button, another jet stream
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 consists of how many atoms?"
"What?"
Viviane's face formed 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 jet stream in her back was joined by several more aligned
along the inside of her thighs down to her knees, gently kneading her
legs in a pulsing rhythm.
"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 corrected herself.
Two new jet streams came to life. Set about two inches apart,
they parted
her labia and washed through the soft folds of her sex, 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 swaying lazily,
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 difficulty in concentrating. 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 bolt upright 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
Catherine's 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 jet streams 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 jet streams 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 jet streams, 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. Viviane's eyes started to plea.
"It was - hnghhh - it was - oahhh - "
Catherine's 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 dreamily.
"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
reassuringly, smiling. Suddenly, Viviane's 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 hear, 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 girl's
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. Senseless 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 whispered
in her ear, gloating over Viviane's torture.
All of a sudden, the jet streams stopped. Viviane's face
became ashen. "What?" was all she managed to whisper with feeble lips.
Then she fainted.
To be continued
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