I should never have fucked Raphaël or Lisette.

Revenge has consequences; these are my five days of hell, and my penance will last a lifetime. Leaving Paris immediately, I am far away, living on a favour from a relative.

This tiny village on the headland is my bolthole - a place of old sandstone houses and their painted shutters. Alone, I sit on an old wooden slatted chair, shaded under the canopy of a stone pine tree. While I stir the ice in my crème de cassis, a snap of wind lifts some dusty earth.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Behind these sunglasses, no one can see my forsaken eyes, and the tranquillity soothes my tormented mind. I know I have lost so much. I cannot face the beach with its joyful laughter and smiling faces. My heart is calcifying stone, I know I will survive, and I have been here before, but this hurt is profound. Vacant eyes gaze at the ornate fountain, smoothed by the centuries and comforted by its babbling spring water.

Childhood memories are the liferaft I cling to. We stayed here, and I dwell on them; they are long deceased. I write, unable to think, eat, or make sense of the madness. Motifs come and go, and my scrawny notebook collects them. It was fat and new once, and many torn pages rest as tight balls in the bin or my pocket.

I cannot be optimistic, but I play a game with words, not actions.

Actions are what brought me here.

-=-

When my ex-fiancé said I was an objectionable woman, he was right; I am.

There is one thing I never objected to - affection. It was Thursday morning last week and two days before what I craved. My eyes were blurred, and I blinked. I did not want to move because Lisette’s hand rested on my waist, and she slept with simpering lips as if kissed by an angel.

As my first emotion of the new day, I wanted tomorrow to come as long as I was with her. It was a silly emotion; we were in too deep, too quickly, and I should not feel this way.

But I did, and I am glad I lied to myself now.

This was the morning after the day before. We ventured into the suburbs for a clandestine rendezvous. It was not that we were ashamed. What we had was too precious and fragile to risk anywhere near the University and its scurrilous gossip. Walking through the park under the watchful gaze of the Château de Sceaux, we held hands in the warm sun. I was a lowly public servant, and she was a student, yet in this setting, we were royalty.

This was not shallow living; Lisette was curious about my depths as much as I was fascinated by hers, and our magical day passed far too quickly. It brooded between us, in a glance, a muted smile, or an innuendo. As scintillating as that night was, as the caramel of a crème brulee, this was the perfect accompaniment to the rich experience of her company.

It was sex with a purpose, and what required courage before were simple words delivered with sparkling eyes. We cavorted in bed, and our posture did not matter. We could find the places that conveyed our desires. We twisted, turned, giggled, laughed, and reduced each other into panted whimpers. Lisette raised her pert behind, and I lapped at her sex, flicking at her ass with the tip of my tongue. Two twisted fingers massaged that place inside her as my devious thumb chased her clit. From my dress mirror, Lisette burned my apartment to the ground. Inducing her orgasm and seeing the relief in her eyes, the sounds she made, and all its physicality - it filled my heart with joy.

Her intuition, my intuition, we could not exhaust our eagerness to find new sensations and pleasures. Of the noisy exclamations in a soixante-neuf as she writhed. Sucking on my clit, as I tongue-fucked her sex, her delicious juices flowed into my mouth. As her hostage, with my wrists tied and protesting, I dug in my heels and came hard on her fingers.

Draped over me, her need written as furrows on her brow, I swept her damp hair back. Restless to the point of exhaustion, Lisette drove on. Her entire body poised as flexing curves, dragging her sex back and forth on my thigh. With her elegance exhausted, she pinned my arms down, our fingers interlaced, and she writhed for one more orgasm. Her brow creased, speckled with sweat, she revealed its rising intensity. 

“I… I cannot get enough of you,” Lisette rasped.

“Then, take everything, take it all.”

Beneath the veil of her hair, we were alone in the world. No one could touch us or take these enormous emotions from us. She dragged her breasts over mine, and her animated hips hovered, primed to deliver the sweetest sting of another climax. Lip-locked, stifling the rising need as her whimpers grew, she tried to deny herself.

“Lisette…” I pleaded, too.

Her palm rested on my torso, and she posed above me. Indelible in my mind, Lisette’s wistful smile, her flushed countenance, and those kindly eyes seared into my soul. A nascent love filled my mind. The first sweeping gesture from her body carried me away. It transcended the physical, and what took hold grew.

You can look into someone's eyes when you understand them enough and know. Words never did this justice; writers have come, gone, and are dust, leaving us without answers. Moving on instinct, without calculation, seeking the perfect gesture for these unspoken sentiments. What is love? Ten days of madness compared to a lifetime of sanity?

This is how we reached that pinnacle when everything narrowed to a single point. When the mind, body and soul combine in a perfect conjunction. I had to cry out as I fused in spasms, and she clung on in a tight embrace. Lisette rode it out with me, gasping for air, and joined me with a final telltale kiss. Crashing down, quivering, I consumed her with my embrace, peppering what skin I could find with my approval as she panted.

That is when I knew my old life was over. Burned in this inferno of passion, destroyed forever. I am a rational woman, and… this madness took me whole. If I said I did not want it – I am lying.

Happy and exhausted, our rushing blood spiced with a feast of climaxes, we declared an uneasy truce. It lasted as long as we could slake our thirst with cold water. One sly glance too many was all we needed. Laid across my bed, our hair lank, bodies clammy, slippery to the touch, and the wettest, softest flesh rubbed together. Lisette’s body was mottled and blotchy; the rash over the mounds of her breasts matched the colour of her swollen sex.

Clasping her leg, we writhed in perfect synchronicity. Meeting her gaze, as the purveyors of sweet mischief, I saw her designs for me as we rode this wallowing wave. Drenched and frictionless, I electrified her by sucking on her big toe. Exposing another fetish, I forced those jade eyes wide open, and she flailed like a fish out of water. Shaking with each yelp stronger than the last, Lisette thrashed towards an indelicate orgasm. She bucked and flailed with giant gulps of air until her cries echoed through my apartment.

As a vision of abandonment, it overwhelmed me, too. Still quivering, Lisette was relentless; her slight hands, like pincers, kept me bound to her. Unable to escape, intoxicated by her determination, she propelled me there, and my rigid body shook. Such was its totality; I tried to extract myself, reduced to a convulsive fit. My addiction was complete; I needed more, and so did Lisette. Finding my voice, sobbing for air, we chased out another intense climax from our ravaged bodies.

We were human wreckage, a tangled mess of limbs, in a mire of sweat and the musk of sex.

I chuckled, still panting.

“Oh God.” She was breathless. “No one… no one ever.”

She did not need to finish her sentence.

“Me too,” I panted, “me too.”

Warm together under the duvet, content in the silence of our embrace. There was no guilt with this emotion, and it flowed through me. I would never take it for granted again – happiness.

It was a perfect day. Despite my fears and the scars of rejection, I adored Lisette. I knew I had to forgive myself and be brave for her. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, and I would… tomorrow.

It hurts to realise it was grains of sand slipping through my fingers. The answer to that big question was always that, and tomorrow never came.

Just as well, Lisette took my vulnerability and loneliness and reflected it onto me. At least my betrayal was incomplete, and I fought back. It is a tiny crumb of comfort.

The ice in my crème de cassis has melted.

-=-

Opening my notebook, I write, ‘used’. I do not want to close it because it feels like the end. To find acceptance, there must be grief. Right now, I am in denial, trying to change the past. If I could see the signs, I could change the course of history.

I was not sure who was more nervous, Lisette or me. We talked it through and what we wanted from Saturday. Revenge, vicarious pleasure, a good fuck – cheap tricks when we had much more going for us.

Raphaël sat in my apartment blindfolded, and we stripped him naked. Reassured by her confidence, we tied him to a dining chair, and I revealed myself to him. He was surprised. Was he surprised enough? The sight of us in racy lingerie was powerful enough to erect his phallus. Wearing our collar, his first masculine moan was convincing. As our voyeur, his pleas were heartfelt.

We surveyed him together, and I admit the sight of a fully aroused penis was highly arousing.

“A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle,” Lisette surmised.

We paused, looking at each other, and laughed – hard. How ridiculous, but it dissolved the tension.

Revelling in our exhibitionism, the gaps between us narrowed. “Remember,” Lisette whispered, “when Raphaël is gone, you will know.”

“Oh, Lisette.”

That kiss, like our first, erased his presence from the room. The torrent of passion began to froth and rage. Peeling away our lingerie, Lisette’s coquettish side glance to Raphaël when she clasped my breasts, immolated me. We tortured him with our exhibition of the sapphic act. This was not pornography made by men; this was an act of love defined by women.  It was Lisette’s goodbye to Raphaël, and he was helpless to act.

She displayed all her feminine wiles with lingering caresses, kisses, and positioning me to recline. Our curves met in perfect harmony, Lisette kneading the proud mounds of my breasts, with our descent into madness assured.

With a single glance, there was a telepathy and the incongruence of our symmetry. Raphaël had his eyes open but lacked vision. Before him, two lovers showed him something he would never experience or understand. Emotions spiced the graze of our lips; feelings motivated every caress, in every look exchanged, unspoken words declared it. Descending my body, all he cared about was her final destination. I would show him the parallel lines, the connection between Lisette and myself, and my physical body fucking his.

I sigh, and the rancour rises quickly. It has lost none of its strength. I sip my drink for some sweetness in this field of bitter dreams. I hope you enjoyed the spectacle, Raphaël. I hope it haunts you for the rest of his life. I want to be there when you realise what you saw, and I want to see your profound regret. When you realise what love is, or even if it is possible, I hope you are too old to do anything about it. I hope you are too wizen, too frail, and physically incapable of demonstrating it.

-=-

I write “Fool” and “Heartbroken” in my notebook.  I add “Temptress” and “Assertive” – this is my forlorn hope, and I do not feel like this right now.

Poised between my thighs, I showed Raphaël how it felt when Lisette spilt my juices, and he fought his bonds. It was a game he was committed to, a genuine need, not an act. That magnificent shaft wept a drop of his earliest essence; he was fully rigid, its strength tightened its skin, and those meandering veins bulged at their maximum.

It occurred to me as he struggled; whatever relationship they had, he was the pathetic cuckold to a woman – me. I would take her from him and fulfil her in ways he would never achieve. He was the shallow pond, and I was the ocean.

As the spice to my first climax, I delighted in how it felt in this situation and how it might look. The severe woman who spurned his juvenile advances was brought to a hasty orgasm by his girlfriend.

Looking into his puppy dog eyes, he thought I took pity on him. Those high heels tightened my calves, shaped my legs, and gave me the poise of his temptress. The click and clack of footsteps did not pace like his racing blood. Constrained, I sat on his thighs, amused, and leaned forward, pressing my breasts to his chest and licking his neck. Poor Raphaël, incensed with lust, aggravated as Lisette came over to whisper high-octane filth into his ear.

A thick, erect prize pulsed in my hand, so very hot and rigid. Beads of sweat speckled Raphaël’s temples, and I imagined his essence leeched from every pore. A week of abstinence, how unfortunate. Rising, I aimed that thick, blunt head at my needy hot cunt as my severe stare burned into the back of his eyes.

Its girth stole my breath and raised an intense growl from my quarry. Stirring it into my blazing hot cauldron, I wanted to fuck the life from him. In a wet, muscular embrace, it touched everything. Damn, I would have committed a serious crime to have this cock at my disposal. I understood why so many women fell for his charms. I had it buried to the hilt, captive for every indecent thing I could imagine.

Raphaël would feel the muscles clamp as I laughed at his tortured expression, squeezing and goading the hair trigger. Lisette teased his nipples as he nuzzled and sucked on mine. The temptation to inundate me with his seed must have been enormous.

No, I left my juices on it. Lisette licked and cleaned them from his shaft, ignoring his anguished pleas for relief. We loosened his bonds, Lisette led him by his leash, and we strapped his ankles and wrists to the bed. Spreadeagled and pathetic, we took turns on his face, as queens on a throne, while his erection strained. Showing me what he had learned, Lisette liked to swat it as his hot breath bathed my cunt.

Telling him he was inadequate was a thrill, telegraphing through my body, soaking my sex. Lisette straddled him, and we shared a conspiratorial grin. She was not going to fuck him but rested his shaft flat on his stomach and used it to cleave the glossy cushions of her sex.

Like this, he whimpered and moaned; the vibrations on my sex spiced my animated hips. The tenderness of Lisette’s kiss was the perfect juxtaposition to the treatment of our slave.

More precum glistened in the soft lighting as Lisette took to her perch. She wriggled as he tongued that tight, unsullied rosebud. I had other designs for him. As the woman of his lusts, I mounted him. Holding him in place, his eagerness to fuck earned my rebuke and Lisette’s. I relented and fully impaled myself, inspiring his heavy groan of defeat. I drew tight circles with my hips, squeezing my muscular walls against his rampant shaft. Slowly, I rocked back and forth, and Lisette crumpled before my eyes.

“Yes!” Lisette rasped, “Let me see it.”

Leaning back and opening my legs, she adjusted her position. Getting her ass licked, rubbing hard on her clit, I basked in her sudden climax, yelping hard, shuddering on top of Raphaël. Upright again, I embraced her in an intense lip-locked celebration. Raphaël was struggling, his girth thicker; I understood the signs. Suddenly empty, I sat back.

“Do not cum. Do not fucking dare!” I yelled.

It strained, twitching faster as Raphaël’s helpless grunts signalled his desperation. With a hefty spasm, the first long rope of white seed erupted.

“Oh, you dirty cunt!” My disappointment was obvious.

More followed, landing as streaks and spots on his body.

“Raphaël! What are you? A virgin again?” Lisette complained.

“I will get something to clean him up.”

“He should be punished for this.” Lisette winked at me.

“Absolutely.”

It was one, two, three buzzes of the doorbell.

“Who is that?”

Another one, two, three buzzes of the doorbell followed.

Lisette frowned, “Whoever they are, they are persistent. It might be an emergency.”

I frowned, too, as three more followed, “Okay, okay, I am coming!”

I threw on my robe. “I will get rid of them.”

When the door opened, it was Pascal. Stunned, he barged in, stuffing a bouquet into my hands.

“I heard you shouting!” He barked, marching through my lounge, “Who are you fucking! Raphaël! Raphaël!”

When Pascal stormed into the bedroom, Lisette stood there, and the strap-on cock jutting out from her body. Raphaël still tied to the bed, covered in his runny essence. There were no protests, not a single expletive or even a yelp of surprise from Lisette. No, she grinned at Pascal, proud and undaunted in this compromising situation.

A potent, sickening feeling lurched in my stomach; whose plan was this? My forceful intuition declared I was the outsider in some sick game devised by Lisette and Raphaël.

Pascal stormed out.

I said nothing, shocked to my core as Raphaël leered in triumph. Glowering at Lisette, the disgust on my face said it all. Only the gut-twisting shock of a sudden bereavement rivalled how I felt.

-=-

I did not care when my apartment door closed behind me. My blood was up poisoned by shock and adrenaline. My running footsteps echoed loudly along the stark concrete corridor, enough to halt Pascal.

On the landing, he stood resolute with a withering stare.

“I should have known,” he hissed.

“Known what?” I was close, in his face, and hissing back.

“You… you fucking whore!”

“And you wanted me again.”

Pounding my fists at a stone wall was more productive.

“And… in your apartment, just now?” His tone dripped with disdain.

“So? It is none of your business.”

“It… it is perverted.”

“Perverted! No.” I barked. “This is a matter of pride to you. I am the little woman who dumped you! You are a shit fuck as well. Who are you to judge others, huh? I am not married to you.”

I dislodged a brick.

“Yes, Pascal Deveraux. You are married.” My eyes narrowed. “It is your choice what happens next.”

“Pfft, you would not dare!”

Folding my arms, I stood firm, “Because of what? My opportunity to become a professor?”

Out of control, primal, and I would defend myself with teeth and bones, if necessary. The sense of betrayal by Pascal and Lisette would not deter me. If this were my humiliation, the price I would extract would be very high and more than he could afford.

I jabbed at his chest. “Try and get me fired.”

I needed two seconds to know he was not bluffing, so I fucked up his life and mine too.