Message-ID: <19462eli$9901290448@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Gaucho <100550_1306g@csi.com> Subject: Viviane 3/5 The trip (f-solo) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: 100550_1306g@csi.com MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; x-mac-type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353" X-Accept-Language: en Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <36B0DCBD.5A37415D@csi.com> 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 Three Specks of dust were dancing in the warm beams of the afternoon sun that fell through the venetian blinds. Through the open window softly permeated waves of distant urban noise - rushing cars with an occasional horn honking, playing children, shouting housewives, barking dogs. A small fly zigzagged over Viviane's face before landing on her nose. The girl frowned in her sleep. The insect took off with a high pitched humming only to land near her ear. Viviane raised her hand to scratch the tickling caused by the fly's wanderings across her skin. She woke up, her head feeling dizzy as from a small hangover. Her consciousness returned, reluctantly. The room around her seemed unfamiliar. Memory slowly trickled into the foggy realms of her mind. "What a shame," she thought, reddening. Viviane found herself on a broad chesterfield couch underneath a woollen blanket. When she moved, the old polished leather stuck to her skin. A quick glance under the cover confirmed that she was bare naked. She looked around. Now and then time seems simply to ignore one place or the other - and this was definitely one of them. The least antique piece of furniture in the room seemed to be a standard lamp, apparently from the 1950s. The air was filled with a slight scent of wax polish mixed with the smells of early summer. The couch she lay on was facing the broad open window. Two matching chairs stood on either side. To her disappointment, they were both with no trace of her clothes. Viviane rose to her feet, yawning. With a graceful movement she raised her hands in the air as she stretched. "You look wonderful." Viviane froze. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you." Viviane turned around, while protecting her breasts and lap with her hands in an instinctive motion. Almost hidden in the twilight behind the sofa sat Alix, Yanel's receptionist. "How long have you been... ?" "You slept for almost two hours." "Putain de... Did I... I mean, what has... ?... Okay. Okay." Viviane turned on her heel and stepped over to the window, leaning at the frame. She gave Alix a perusing look. "I'm still here, I assume. I mean, at your office or whatever you call it." The tall girl turned towards the window and widened the space between two of the blind's slats, looking outside. "Would it be too much to ask where my clothes and my layouts happen to be?" Alix gave no response. "Frankly," Viviane said in her sweetest of voices, "is it customary for your company to give potential business partners this, ah, special treatment?" Vivianes anger rose. She was about to get really annoyed, when a knock on the door stopped her. "Yes, what is it?" she snapped, ignoring the receptionist. The door opened. "My dear Viviane!" Catherine Loiseau had changed in the meantime, wearing a beige suede skirt together with a rose blouse and a broad smile. "Did your little nap refresh you?" She crossed the room, holding out both her arms in a disarming gesture. Viviane was stunned. How could she dare? She opened her mouth but, not knowing what to say, closed it a second later. The redheaded woman stood right in front of her, looking up into her eyes. "I think it's time to talk about business," she said and, addressing the receptionist, "would you mind bringing some tea to my office, Alix?" The latter quickly rose. "Yes, of course, Mme. Loiseau." Alix left the room in a hurry. "You do take tea, don't you?" Viviane sank her shoulders in a helpless motion. "Tea. Certainly." But the older woman had already turned, heading for the door. "Hey, wait a minute! What about my clothes? What about... ?" "We will take care of that. Now come on, don't dawdle." ********** The office was furnished in the same style as the rest of the house. Catherine Loiseau had already taken her place behind a heavy desk facing her guest. "Have a seat, young lady." Viviane had enough of this buddy business - darling here, young lady there - but she kept her mouth shut and seated herself on a chair in front of the desk. She folded one leg over the other and rested her hands in her lap. Catherine opened the cardboard folder containing Viviane's drawings and layouts. "This is crap. This one's not bad. Crap." She turned a sheet, holding it at arm's length. "Interesting." She looked at Viviane, this time all business, no trace of her former friendliness in her features. "As you might have figured, this -" she pointed at the folder, "is not what we really want of you." She paused. "In fact, part of what we want from you we've already gotten." Viviane opened her mouth but was silenced with a quick motion. "No. I don't speak of the incident in the metro, intriguing as it was. We did record it though, but more of this later." She opened a drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes. The door behind Viviane opened silently and Alix entered with a tray. She gave Viviane a quick glance while she poured the tea. With no other instructions of her employer she turned and left without a sound. "You a have perfect nervous system, did you know that? At least that's what I've been told." She toyed with a cheap plastic lighter, casting a look on a paper on her desk. Then she straightened. "We want to hire you. But not to do artwork for us. Excuse me, but we already have people doing that. They might be a bit better than you, but they are not as sexy." She smiled. "You will provide our customers with something far more valuable: Emotions." Viviane gave her a dazzled look. "The little gizmo I applied to your head earlier, it read out your feelings. All your emotions, your tremblings, every little twitch, the tantalizing hunger for fulfillment as well as pleasure - it's all in here." Catherine Loiseau padded on a small translucent cartridge, containing a little silver disc. "Astonishing, isn't it? Half the size of a floppy disc and it stores such a precious feeling. But the best thing's yet to come." She gave Viviane her most charming smile. "What goes in comes out again. For whoever wants to experience it. Male, female, young or old - it doesn't matter. What matters is the price." Now she had Viviane's attention. Within her arm's reach lay - well what? - one of the most intense feelings she ever had in her life? Despite the warmth, she shivered. This was impossible. Recording human feelings on a MiniDisc - her head spun when the consequences of what she had learned slowly dawned upon her. "Yes, I know, I know" Catherine waved. "But that's not important, not now. We have a product: You. And we have an exclusive clientele, willing to pay a king's ransom. And they wouldn't pay for such shit as educational purposes or behaviourist research." Viviane felt sick. This woman held one of the most important inventions the human spirit could ever conceive in her hands - and all she wanted was selling sex. Her sex. "You will blackmail me, right?" The redhead grinned. "I would call it persuasion." "What's your offer?" "Fifty thousand Euros." "You must be joking." "Fifty thousand for each of your, uhm, fascinating performances." Viviane blushed. "Will anybody recognize me?" "No. It's impossible. We can't read out your memory. Not yet. Anyway, we are talking on a professional basis. You would sign a contract and name us your bank. If you reject... " Viviane's head felt like a wasps' nest. She felt nauseated and at the same time intrigued. An alien arousal took hold of her. "What the... ?" she thought. Weighing her options, she found she didn't really have anything to lose. On the other hand, she wanted to know the whole story now. And maybe there was a chance to - she straightened, forcing her face into a composed mask. "I've gotta think about it." "Certainly. You are our guest. And now," she said, while raising her head, "I would like you to meet our CEO. Have you ever been to St. Tropez? June is the best season for a little excursion to the Cote d'Azur, don't you think? It's not so crowded, not too many Russians there at that time of the year." ********** Travelling naked was a new experience to Viviane. When Alix had escorted her through the hall to the waiting limo back in Paris, she incidentally asked for her clothes. Alix shrugged helplessly but offered her a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses she took from her purse. Viviane put them on. She couldn't tell if it was out of curiosity, pride or an exhibitionist rush, but she refrained from insisting on getting back what belonged to her. She stopped, looking right into Alix' blue eyes. Then she wordlessly pointed to Alix's shoes. The young woman blushed, looked to her feet, then up to Viviane again. She bent down and took off her black slippers which she handed to the tall blonde. Without losing her balance, Viviane lifted first one foot, then the other, and put on the shoes. She noticed Alix eying her nervously, licking her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. As Viviane had guessed, the shoes were nearly her size, the leather feeling smooth and warm as her delicate feet slid in. Without a word, she turned and walked down the steps to the car, head in the air, completely aware of the sight she presented. She knew the high heeled shoes accentuated her long slender legs and her firm buttocks. Viviane, swaying her hips like a model on a catwalk, walked out of the hall and down the steps to the waiting car. Against the outside light, the view between her moving thighs gave a clear impression of her half open labia. "I'm acting like some goddam mind- crazed hollywood porn star," she thought. "They wanted a show, now they can have one." ********** The limo brought them to Orly airport. Catherine Loiseau wasn't with them, as Alix explained, turning in her seat to address Viviane sitting in the back. "She will take tomorrow morning's flight to Nizza." It was about six o'clock. Alix and Viviane were supposed to take Yanel's company jet to a small airfield near St. Tropez. The flight should take about an hour. There would be another limo that should take them to the harbour. Some hundred yards to the left of the main airport buildings was a guarded entrance to a separate part of the airfield. When the limo stopped, a police officer clad in a black paramilitary uniform stepped forward. His eyes covered by mirror shades, his right hand lay on a FN submachine gun. His left held the leash of a doberman. He inspected the document the driver held out of his window while the dog sat motionless at his side. Viviane shivered. She hated big dogs. She tried to maintain her arrogant pose, knowing that it was impossible to peer inside through the shaded windows. Despite this, the dog seemed to sense her fear. It got up and started to sniff around. The cop gave it a curious look, then he tried to look inside, shading his eyes with his hand. "Open," he ordered coldly. Viviane hated the CRS. The CRS being a special police squad trained for anti-terror missions as well as upholding general order, most people tried to stay out of their way. They weren't really known for being squeamish. Bash first, then ask questions. Colloquially the CRS was called La Canine for they were never seen without their dogs. The door swung open. "Get out," the cop ordered. Viviane gave Alix a pleading look. Alix shrugged, indicating that she'd better do as she was told. Viviane swung her legs out of the car. The dog pulled at its leash, his huge black snout at a level with Viviane's lap. She pulled herself out the limo and stood on shaky legs. She could feel the doberman's warm breath on her tummy. The officer remained motionless. Viviane's heart sank when she felt the dog's cool wet nose push against her pubis. She was frozen with fear. The dog continued its sniffing, then pushed its snout between her legs. Viviane's heart raced. Her legs started to tremble but she was afraid to make a move. "It will bite me. Jesus. Go away. Go away, you bloody - " In her mind she cursed the dog. As if to mock her the canine started to lap at her sex with its flappy wet tongue. "O no. Shit." The doberman jerked his head and gave an angry growl. Viviane could only carefully open her legs. The cold wet nose poked right at her mound. The dog resumed its licking. Viviane blushed. Now this was too much. The warm tongue lapped at her labia. "No, please - " she whispered. The cop didn't move, his face carved from marble, the afternoon sun reflecting in his sunglasses. Then, with the slightest hint of a smile, he let go of the leash. The dog immediately leaped forward, pushing Viviane against the car. Stretching her hands out behind, she caught her fall, but now she leant at an angle against the car that made it impossible for her to regain balance without slipping. The doberman kept pushing its snout against her mound, forcing his body between her bent knees. This caused her labia to finally open, exposing the sprout of her clitoris to the dog's lapping tongue. The cop turned away, addressing the chauffeur. "Open the trunk." The driver released the trunk's catch and the black clad officer stepped at the rear. From his belt he took his baton and poked at the suitcases. His heavy boots made screeching noises on the pavement as he walked towards Alix's window. He tipped the baton at her window. "Show me the luggage." Alix had to open her suitcases. While the cop moved through her lingerie with his stick, she stood motionless, hands folded at her back, like a schoolgirl. Sweat was running down Viviane's temples. Any second now, her legs would start to shake. Her position was rather uncomfortable. And still the dog kept up its lapping. By now it had wetted all of her crotch with its warm sticky saliva. The soft folds of her sex gave way as the exploring tongue moved them around. "That's enough." Alix closed the trunk as the police officer turned away. Without looking he walked back to the guardhouse. When he hissed a short command, the doberman immediately stepped back and followed him, pulling its leash behind on the ground. Alix approached Viviane and held out a helping hand. But the tall girl pushed herself away from the car and, with the back of her hand, slapped the stunned brunette across the face. "Nothing personal, my dear. But why should I be the only one to suffer? And now, would you please give me a handkerchief?" A drop of blood made its way out of Alix's nose. She sniffed, then opened her purse. "Thank you very much." Viviane turned on her heel. As the car drove on, she carefully cleaned her sex. "They will pay for that one," she swore to herself. It wasn't quite clear to her whom she meant and she didn't yet know exactly how she would made them pay but the thought of revenge did a good deal to cool off her raging anger. She would swear that Yanel had arranged this little incident. And taped it. ********** The yacht lay anchored some hundred yards off the rocky coast in a small bay. A red flag with a white cross swayed lazily from a pole at it's stern indicating a swiss owner. It was about seventy feet long, equipped with a single tall mast. The sails were neatly packed on the long boom and the railing. The dagger-like form of the white hull and the tall elegant rigging created an impression of unrestrained force and majestic pride. Against the setting sun a small shuttle boat approached, slowed down and pulled alongside. The boatman hurried to hold his ship off the spotless side. He fastened the vessel with a rope to the ship's railing. A face appeared, then disappeared. A rope ladder was thrown down and the boatman took hold of it. He motioned the two girls to come over. Alix climbed up first. Viviane was amazed, as always when she stood on deck of a sailing ship. The intricate weaving of the rigging, the functional arrangement of clamps, blocks and eyes on deck, everything fitted its purpose. No unnecessary ornate spoiled the impression of a complicated machinery designed for maximum performance. This ship was worth millions, she sensed. Built from wood and brass, it was definitely unlike modern ships with their carbon fibre hulls, alloy masts and Kevlar sails. To steer this ship must be pure pleasure. "Ouch - you stupid bitch! Can't you take care, you miserable cunt?" a guttural female voice hollered from aft. Alix and Viviane exchanged wondering looks. A girl in a sailors' suit hauled up Alix's luggage behind them, then, with a suitcase under each arm, motioned them to follow her. "You rotten good-for-nothing," the hollering went on. They made their way to the ships cockpit, which was canopied by a large spray hood. A girl, maybe fourteen years of age, sat on the bench. She wore a white sailors' jacket with a deep cleavage. Her jet black hair was piled up on her head, apart from some lost curls which framed her handsome face. Heavy golden bangles hung from her arms. From the waist down she was naked. Kneeling between her widely spread thighs sat another girl in a sailors' suit. "Have I got to do everything myself?" she demanded, pouting. When she caught sight of Alix and Viviane, the black haired devil gave the kneeling woman a kick that sent her flat on her bottom. She grabbed for a towel and quickly wiped her crotch, then, springing to her feet, she addressed the arrivals. "Bon jour, ma chere Alix. Ca va?" Careless she tossed the towel in her servants face and approached the brunette girl to give her a sisterly hug. Then, holding out her small hands, she turned to Viviane: "You must be Viviane. How are you? How was your trip?" She embraced Viviane as well, standing on her toes and kissed her on each cheek. She stood a head shorter than her guest. Either she didn't notice the taller girl's nakedness or she didn't care. Most likely the latter, Viviane thought, admiring the ease that emanated from the younger girl's movements. "I'm Marie-Noelle, Jean-Yves' sister," she announced lustrously. Marie-Noelle turned towards the open hatch that led below deck. "Jean-Yves, we have company!" She listened for a second. No response. Viviane studied her as she leant forward into the ship's cabin. The nails on her delicate fingers and toes were painted bright red just as her lips, in nice contrast to her seamless tan. Bent forward she presented her guests a view of her shapely naked derriere. Her slender legs stood slightly apart, so Viviane could catch a glimpse of the girls sphincter, shining dark pink between the firm buttocks. Viviane was fascinated by the girls impudent yet innocent appearance. "Putain de merde, JEAN-YVES!" She straightened, shrugged, then commanded the waiting porter girl to bring the luggage below deck. With an inviting gesture, she motioned her guests to a small table at the ship's stern. She slumped into a wooden folding chair. "We want some champagne," she hollered. Viviane sat down. She placed her shades on the table and looked around. The red disc of the sinking sun was about to touch the horizon, bathing the calm sea in a gleam of magenta. The air was still warm and filled with the scent of herbs and the chirps of crickets, waving over from the shore. Carefully the girl, that Marie-Noelle had kicked earlier, approached the table, carrying a tray with a cooler, containing a bottle of Taittinger, and three glasses. "Dare you spill one drop," Marie-Noelle growled. With shaky hands the girl filled the glasses. When she finally put the bottle back into the cooler, her relief was almost physical. Marie-Noelle made a dismissive gesture. When the girl turned, she gave her another kick that almost sent her toppling over again. She hurried to get out of sight. Marie-Noelle grinned mischievously "That stupid brat almost cut me," she explained reproachfully, her blooming lips sulking. She lifted her right foot, and, holding it with her hand, placed it under her derriere. By straddeling her left leg she revealed her hairless sex. The skin of her plumb mound shone with the same healthy tan as her thighs, her labia bore not the slightest stubble. Carefully, she took a smoothly shaved lip between index finger and thumb, stretching its skin. "Look, it's still red," she said, presenting the piece of evidence to the jury. Vivane had to bend forward. Indeed, the delicate skin of her outer labia bore a tiny, almost invisible scratch. Viviane caught a glimpse of the tender curly folds of Marie-Noelles inner labia protruding between the swelling lips. "Almost the colour of her nail polish," Viviane mused. Marie-Noelle, retaining her position, lifted her glass with her free hand - "cheers," - and downed it in one gulp. Distractedly, her finger gently stroked the bruised spot. "So you have met our chere Catherine," she stated. Her finger slowly travelled up and down the rim of her cleft, occasionally toying with the inner labia. Alix refilled her glass. "Thank you. Tell me a little bit about you, Viviane. Catherine told me we would do some business together so maybe we should come to know each other." Her face was all smiles, exuding an impression of health and youth. She leant back in her chair, her left arm, with the glass in her hand, placed on the railing behind her. Her right hand rested on her groin, its middle finger playing with the protruding soft flesh of her inner labia. While Viviane started to give a short version of how she came into contact with Yanel, the young girl never lost sight of her. While contemplating her guest with a most innocent air, Marie-Noelles middle finger found the entrance of her vulva, and started a slow circling. Viviane wasn't sure but she thought she had seen a moist tear glistening at the delicate opening. She swallowed. "Go on," the young girl encouraged while slowly inserting her finger into her vagina. "She must get wet really easy," Viviane wonderd, perceiving how easily the finger found its way. It disappeared completly and Marie-Noel let out a content sigh. "Well, that was about it," Viviane said with dry lips. "As if she paints her toenails," she thought in wonderment, "she's so impudent!" Slowly, the black haired girl withdrew her glistening finger. Then she divided her labia by tracing the finger right through the cleft within. When she reached her clitoris, another sigh escaped her lips. Alix made a remark, but it went unnoticed by Viviane, who couldn't keep her eyes from Marie-Noelles crotch. Lovingly the girl circled the sprout of her clit. She stretched its hood with index and ring finger while gently stroking it with the tip of her middle finger. "Well i think, that's an excellent idea. What do you think, Viviane?" "What?" she croaked, suddenly awakening from her dreamy haze. "Alix suggested having diner in town and later on going partying. Whaddya think?" Marie-Noelle repeated with a mischievous smile. "I wonder if she dares to come," Viviane thought. "Sounds nice to me. I'm ravenous. But for the partying, I'm afraid I - " "Oh no, come on! There's a really cool club at the beach not far from here," Marie-Noelle pleaded. Viviane wasn't sure if her fingers had picked up a slightly faster pace. The girl's erect clitoris glistened with the juices her circling finger collected every few strokes from the opening of her vagina, whence by now a steady moist trickle emanated. With spread fingers, she held open her inner labia, forcing the blood-filled nub further out of its protecting hood. "Maybe we should go check the Peaches club?" she mused distractedly. With her left hand, she took another sip of champagne, then put down the glass. "Have you ever been at Peaches, Alix?" Her newly freed hand travelled flat over her tummy, then further down to her hairless tanned mound. Reaching her sex, the fingers of her left hand took over the task of spreading her labia. She dipped a finger of her right hand into the melting wetness of her vagina. "Oh, yes, I remember. You should really come! It's fun," Alix said. Viviane wondered how Maire-Noelle could keep her composure. As if reading her thoughts, Marie-Noelle bit her lower lip. Her bent finger went into a slow steady pace, the tip running up and down the shaft of her clitoris, index and ring finger gracefully spread like a butterfly. A little whimper escaped her lips. When Viviane looked into Marie- Noelles face, she found her eyes wide open in an almost surprised exprssion, her blooming lips forming a silent "O". "This is - oh - this is so - hmmm - " the tip of her little pink tongue appeared between her teeth. Her finger kept its slow tempo, inflicting a delicious torture. Her cheeks gleamed a bright red. Her hand started to tremble but she forced it to resume its stroking. Viviane wondered, how long she could keep this slow tempo, noticing a quivering of the girl's taut stomach muscles. "And they really serve the best Bellinis of the whole Cote d'Azur," Alix went on. The toes of Marie-Noelles right foot, still trapped under her buttocks, wriggled. Her climax rose, almost physically visible. Her hips bucked once, twice and still her finger held to its slow pace. Marie-Noelle had her eyes closed, her vivid tongue circling within her lips. Her hips bucked again. Suddenly a small spout of clear liquid squirted from her vulva and sprayed on Viviane's leg. Viviane was awe-struck. "Oh - ah - ahm sorry," Marie-Noelle panted. Her hand slowly came to a rest. Her pelvis still twitched. A small flow of liquid trickled from her open vulva down to the puckered hole of her anus. Finally she buried her finger in her wet sex and exhaled with a long deep sigh. Her trapped foot slipped from beneath her. For a moment she sat motionless. Her chest heaved under the starched linnen of her jacket with long healthy breaths. She opened her eyes and, withdrawing her finger, licked it clean, casting a wicked smile on her spectators. "Bravo." From behind her, Viviane heard a mock imitation of clapping hands. Marie-Noelle bowed her head in a hint of modesty. She stood up, stretching like a kitten, yawning. "Viviane, may I introduce you to my brother Jean-Yves?" To be continued -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----