Falloir (Passion Noire Book 2) (33 page)

‘Well, I guess you’re going to see how thrilling spending time at Her Majesty’s pleasure will be. I doubt there’s a prison guard who’d be shocked. From what I hear, there are a lot of lesbian guards so you may well get more than you bargain for.’

I burst out laughing at Kayla’s shocked and outraged expression. It earns me a glare from both of them.

‘Get creative with your vajazzling ... learn to shoot a ping pong ball with your vagina ... or take up vaginal knitting—I saw something about that the other day, it's actually real. Any trick of the vagina will do. When you’re on that stage, you can surprise and shock to your heart’s content. Nobody in here is going to be able to report you. This is the only public place that gives you that freedom to do that.’

‘Can’t she just expose herself in here ... in the club?’ I say, it sounds so obvious—no need for pussy stunts.

They look at me like I’m stupid.

‘I’ve tried,’ Kayla says. ‘How many people do you get in here that are shocked by the sight of a naked body?’

I see her point but I want to hold up my hand and shout, ‘
Me!’
If I’d walked in here one night and she’d flashed me, I wouldn’t have known where to look. I’d have been so embarrassed. And horny. I probably would have thought she was trying to get me into bed. Actually, I wonder if that’s part of her thing.

I realise they’re both staring at me. Veuve has this knowing look on her face. I hate that she can read my mind sometimes.

‘Gabe,’ she calls but he doesn’t look up from where he’s looking through a stack of papers at the bar. ‘Gabe!’ she calls again, much louder but he still doesn’t respond. I see her jaw tense and I wait for the outburst that doesn’t come.

‘Come on,’ she says instead, but I know she’s pissed. ‘Let’s get started. We’ll discuss your situation later, madam.’

We go down to Veuve’s room and I can smell sex. She’s fucked someone in here ... either her client or Gabe although if he’s had his hands on Veuve today, I doubt he’d be in that God awful mood.

I glare at the bed, expecting to find evidence on the sheet but it looks clean. It appears to be smooth and undisturbed, the only creases are the ones where it’s been folded in storage. I look around but I can’t see a laundry basket. But I know the smell of sex and it’s in this room ... unless that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

‘Right, okay. Now you can take your clothes off, Kayla. Then get on the bed and lie down on your back. Dean, we’re going to look at using your fingers today. If there’s time, we’ll move on to your mouth. You’re going to relax and give Kayla a clitoris induced orgasm. She’s going to be honest with you—more honest than the vast majority of women will be but I want you to study her body as much as listen to her words. Because of women’s keenness to fake it, you have to learn what it looks like when a woman’s not faking it. It might sound alike but you can tell if you know what you’re doing ... and if you know what you’re doing, she’ll not have time to think about faking it. She’ll be too busy wondering why she didn’t find you sooner and you’ll be too busy spoiling it for any guy who fucks her in future.’

I like the sound of that.

‘So first, you’re going to lie next to Kayla. You can sit but it might seem a bit unnatural. I want this to be as relaxed and normal as possible but I understand it’s not, so we just have to make the best of it. I can do candles and soft music if you’d rather, but I think to begin with, seeing and hearing everything will be easier, even if it seems a bit weird.’

‘Do I have to be naked?’ I ask, thinking that’s how it would be, if this was more natural.

‘That’s up to you,’ Veuve says. ‘I’m not going to be looking at you and if you get this right, Kayla’s not going to notice whether you’re naked or wearing a gorilla costume because she won’t be able to see straight.’

‘I love it when that happens. Or when your legs go all floppy. They’re the best ones,’ Kayla helpfully pipes up.

‘No pressure then,’ I mutter as I slip my trainers off and climb on to the bed.

‘You’ll be fine,’ laughs Veuve. ‘You’ll probably experience some finger and hand cramping but just swap hands. Your hands will get used to it, eventually.’

I reach forward but Veuve interrupts before I’ve started. ‘Wet your fingers,’ she calls. ‘Most women will much prefer your fingers to slide freely over their sensitive skin.’

‘What with?’

Kayla sits up before Veuve can reply. ‘You can spit or suck on your fingers, dip them inside me if you’ve taken the time to get me wet or ... and this can be really hot ... if she’s not wet or even if she is and you want to mix it up, you can get her to suck on your fingers or, if she’s into it, spit on your fingers.’

She gives me a grin that says she finds that hot and flops back on to her back. I look over at Veuve who shrugs. This is like being at school. Well, not exactly ... actually, they should teach this stuff in sixth form or something. It would much more useful than learning how to put a condom on a cucumber for fuck’s sake.

I suck on my first two fingers for a moment and then begin to move them in slow circles around her clit.

‘Closer,’ Kayla says. ‘Get closer to my clit.’

I obey.

‘Too close, you’re hitting it. I don’t want it touching yet.’

I back off a little.

‘That’s better,’ she says. ‘Now try pressing on a little harder but don’t touch it yet.’

I oblige.

‘Hmm. No, not harder. Try faster.’

‘You’re doing well, Dean,’ Veuve says, playing the role of cheerleader. ‘If it was an inexperienced hand wanking your cock, you’d be feeling the same. And the experience would be so much better if you could direct her movements so that she did what you liked. And she’d know for next time.’

I know what she’s saying is true but it takes some getting used to, being judged. I feel that I’m going to turn around at the end and there’ll be a panel of judges holding up score cards. In some ways, I’m glad Veuve’s here but in others, I think I’d rather she left us to it.

Kayla begins to breathe heavily. Her nipples are like large diamonds on the ends of her pert tits. They have darkened, not much but they’ve gone a browny pink colour from the candyfloss pink they were. I tell her and she tells me to suck them if I want. I look over to Veuve who shrugs and then nods.

I can smell strawberry on her skin as I lean forward and close my lips around that little pink cone without interrupting the rhythm of my circling fingers. She moans in pleasure as I begin to flick my tongue back and forth.

‘Fingers ... faster,’ she pants. ‘No, wait. Give me your fingers—they need to be wetter.’

She reaches down and drags my hand to her mouth. She sucks on my fingers before shoving them back down between her legs. My mind is wheeling. She’s right ... that is fucking hot. My cock’s rock solid and I desperately want to finish her off with my fingers before ramming my cock inside and emptying my aching balls. Veuve’s wank ban is fucking killing me.

‘Faster ... up and down ... over the top,’ she pants.

I dutifully do as she requests, marvelling at how easy it is to please a woman when she is willing to tell you what to do. Her clit is more difficult to feel now so I use three fingers to make sure I hit it.

‘Side to side,’ she cries, bracing her legs and arching her back. ‘Quickly!’

I have to release her nipple when she starts to thrash about. My fingertips are sliding around, making me want to pin her down and keep her still. She suddenly stills and grabs handfuls of the sheet. I can rub across her clit at quite a pace now and her legs begin to tremble as she starts to shout out a range of nonsensical curses and moans. I don’t know whether to stop or keep going but then she yells, ‘Oh fuuuuuuck.’ Then her whole body seems to twitch and jerk before she furiously slaps my fingers away.

I pull back and gaze in awe as she lies there gasping for breath, the sheets still crushed in her fists.

‘Bravo,’ Veuve applauds. I turn to face her and can’t stop a massive, self-satisfied smirk from forming on my face.

‘You seem surprised, Dean. Yet you followed every instruction Kayla gave you to the letter.’

I shrug. ‘I’m not used to women telling me what or how they like it done. That was so easy to do—that’s what’s surprising. Why don’t they all do that?’

Veuve laughs heartily. ‘My thoughts exactly, Dean. I can’t understand why. Some do ... and there are some men who love it. I think it’s to do with the nerves of being with someone new. Women are worried that men will take it badly if they start critiquing and correcting them. Which is why you need to read the signs and work on best guesses.’

I guess she has a point. ‘But what I just did with Kayla, if I do that with every woman from now on—’

My therapist shakes her head and Kayla says, ‘Noooo.’ I look from one to the other in confusion.

‘All women are different. It might feel to you that there are only subtle differences between women but, for us, it’s a vast difference. Clitoris sensitivity and our tolerance varies massively. What works for one woman would have another one shooting up the bed in horror. If you start off gently, you can try things out gradually and, if you watch her carefully, you can figure it out.’

‘Yeah,’ says Kayla. ‘I can’t stand my clit being touched until I’m almost there and it’s retracted under the hood then it’s a goddamn free for all. I love the side to side action at the end—guaranteed to make me come hard. That wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.’

‘Okay, Dean. Kayla’s warmed up now. She’s had a clitoral orgasm so she’s good and wet. Now it’s time for a G-spot induced climax. Now, the only problem here is finding the damn thing but there are several things that you can do to make it extra-special when you do and the good news is that most women will go fucking mad for them. One of them has me going half out of my mind.’

She grins lasciviously and something occurs to me. She wants me to practise on different women—fair enough, given the differences she’s outlined. But why can’t I start with her? Why is she sitting over there, casually observing as I get to work on finding Kayla’s G spot that she’s just helpfully, if a little grossly, described as a warty patch on her smooth insides? Surely she must be getting turned on watching ... maybe she’ll feel so horny when I’m done with Kayla that she’ll let me get my hands on her.

Even as I curl my fingers and stroke the smooth vaginal wall seeking the bumpy patch, I’m imagining that it’s Veuve’s pussy I’m playing with. My cock twitches so badly that it hurts. Much more of this and I’m going to have to open my fly and let it free. Maybe that will get Veuve’s attention ...

I’M GETTING SICK OF washing my clothes every day so I go over to my flat to see whether I can sneak up on it from behind, and if the spooks in the ghostly grey car are still haunting it. I can. They are. On the way back, I decide to detour via Vouloir to see whether Veuve needs a ride home yet. She insists that taking a cab is safe, since she’s used the same private hire company for years and, if she needs to get one on the hop, she makes sure to get a black cab. She’s probably right but I’d feel happier if she wasn’t out of my sight until Paul’s back inside. I know better than to try to enforce my view—she’d most likely rebel. That’s the downside to strong, independent women ... they’re so difficult to look after.

The club’s closed and there’s no sign of life in the alley. I debate texting her to ask whether she’s almost done but I don’t want to interrupt her when she’s working. I decide that I’ll wait a while and see whether she comes out. If there’s no sign, I’ll head back to The Kid. Hopefully, his hangover’s wearing off. My hand goes to my throat as I think about him. I’m wearing the pendant he gave me last night. I’m not a jewellery wearer—the only things I’ve ever worn around my neck are my tags but this means so much to me and I know it will make him happy if I wear it.

I’m debating calling Mack to see whether he’s managed to secure some investigation after my tip off about Sandy’s body when I see the door to the club open. I shoot out of the car and call the emerging girl to hold the door. I’m about to ask her if she knows whether Veuve’s still there but she doesn’t give me chance. She gives me an impish grin and pushes the door fully open as she lifts the flimsy vest top she’s wearing and flashes her bare tits. She does nothing for me—she’s not my type. Tiny, pert tits always make me think of schoolgirls—and they’re definitely not my thing. I can’t help but grin when she laughs like a mad thing and then runs off, down the alley. I’m just happy that I’ve managed to get my fingers to the edge of the door before it slams shut.