Little Bird IV: Coda
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What should I tell her? That her daughter is a slut? Her foot tapped under the table, the ticking of a timebomb.I toyed with my glass, speckled with condensation. I was enjoying the warm shade, picking over my half-eaten lunch, and sat at the outside tables of my favourite café. Not anymore, and this was not part of my plan for today. She must have been waiting here, hoping I would show up.Introduced brusquely as Aveline’s mother, I knew I was in trouble. Bristling, scanning my features for any weakness. She looked like a shark waiting for a drop of blood in the water.“Gaspar, my son, told me,” her staccato delivery was like a machine gun, “He saw you with my daughter about to go in that place!”That place, and its blue door, was infamous in the Premier Arrondissement. Libertines frequented it… and a swingers club is an unfortunate translation. Aveline must have said something, probably forced out of her by her angry mother.“Well? Madame Duprix. Do you have anything to say?”Her lips pursed, puckered like a well-fucked asshole.I provided a very nonchalant shrug. What did she expect? I am not ashamed of what we did together or what I am. There were two tigresses at this table, and I was going to show my claws. Sitting upright, I towered over this shrew.My jawline angled with contempt, peering downwards, and I locked eyes with hers, “Aveline is old enough to make her own decisions.”Those pursed lips unpuckered, “You do know she is engaged.”I needed some crisp white wine, engaged at twenty-one, poor thing, and it explained a lot.“Clearly, Aveline’s needs are not being met in that relationship. Have you asked her, Madame Quincampoix?”That knocked her back, “Well… I…”“And did you come here without her knowledge? You are meddling. Would Aveline approve of this?”I did not flinch and stared her down. I was not going to be judged.Yes, have a sip of white wine, Madame Quincampoix. Oh, have several.“Madame Duprix….”I held up a finger and stopped her, “Madame Quincampoix. What I do, what Aveline does, has nothing to do with you. Your intervention might be the acceptable behaviour of Sceaux’s uptight bourgeois residents. This is Paris.”“Why you…”What did she expect? That I would back down, be embarrassed, and spit vowels of apology?Leaning in, I was the shark, “I know many women like you,” I whispered, “disappointed in the bedroom once too often, but your husband makes good money even if he is dead from the neck down.”Taking another sip of wine, I waited for her reply, admiring the flushed pallor of her cheeks. Normally, I am not so brave, but a sense of injustice burned on behalf of Aveline.Still nothing, and my patience was wearing thin, “Madame Quincampoix. She is an adult, has free will, was not under duress, and had a thoroughly good time.”Somebody must have put fifty cents in the malfunctioning idiot because her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. A train of thought departed the station without her.”Of course,” I tilted my glass at her, “if you were a better mother, you might understand Etlik Escort your daughter’s sexuality and desires, but you are a bigot.”I tut-tutted and shook my head, “Your own daughter, too. You deny her happiness to impose your… morality onto her. Who’s life are you living?”Right on cue, she deflated before me.“I have never…,” the metal chair grated on the paving stones, “never been so insulted.”She stood, fidgety, trying to loop her handbag strap onto her shoulder.“Whore,” she hissed.Now I was bored with her predictability.With disdain, I toasted her, “Goodbye, Madame Quincampoix.”Watching the shimmer and sway of black Chanel disappear down the boulevard, I tipped her white wine into my glass. My blood ran hot, and I hated confrontation.But, as I said, I was in trouble.It arrived in the early evening, bristling with subdued distress and holding a suitcase.-=-This is why I love my husband. This was beyond his indulgence of me, and I took a lot. My two lovers were under my roof, and I should be ecstatic. Yet, there was a line between the marvellous and the mundane. Despite the spectre of our years haunting us, we tried hard not to be practical, dull, or cynical. This required just that.“Martin, I do not know what to do.”These were whispered words. Aveline was in our guest room, awaiting her fate.He held me close, and his warmth and scent calmed me.“Her parents threw her out. That’s harsh, no matter how tough she is.” He sighed and kissed my hair, “Ines, it’s not just anyone. It’s Aveline. Little Bird.”I could empathise; I was no angel with my own parents. Nor was I worried that my husband might run off with Aveline and leave me. If you saw her sublime beauty and those flawless curves. If you experienced her total commitment to please her lovers, you might wonder about the strength of your relationship.Never with my husband, and he had been tempted many times.That sigh was a testament to his generous spirit, “Talk to her. She listens to you. I am sure we can find a solution.”Men… always looking for a solution. For me, it was simple. She was an itch to scratch, a sublime lover that straightened out a kink we never knew we had. I admit I liked her… no, I adored her. She was so young, yet, she had a confidence that left me in awe.Over the last few months, Aveline fulfilled a side of me that felt so new and difficult to tame. The notion of this power I had over her, that I could decide her fate in these games we played. It unlocked something inside that challenged my preconceptions of dominance and submission; both excited me. It was all-consuming and immensely gratifying. It was a lie that I had mastered the control needed.This added to my reluctance, and her absence made my heart fond of her. When that powerful need came, it was worthy of her. I craved her caress, innocent beauty, and coquettish submissiveness. Little Bird was the willing foil for this game. Real life was not a game; you can have too much of a good thing. Keçiören Escort If I could not maintain control, Aveline might lose interest, and we would be stuck with a lodger until she left.Okay, it was not so simple, and this was my trouble.I squeezed him, “So she lives with us? What then?”Unfolded from this embrace, I could see his devotion in those wondrous eyes.Martin grinned, “I have an idea.”Oh, Christ, that smile worried me, and I raised a doubtful eyebrow. This had better be good.“Ines, it’s been a roleplay, yes? So, you are in charge. Would that work?”Fuck, that was not bad, and I placed my willing acceptance onto his lips, “I’ll talk to her.”He tells me I am the light of his life, but he is the wind in my sails.-=-Always, Aveline was so prim, sat upright, hands on her knees, her lower spine curved for a perfect posture. She dreamed of being a professional dancer and had the deportment perfect for her ambition.I found her as a gauche assistant in an art gallery. It was a seduction over wine and lunch. As her courage shone through, she revealed what she sought. Spending time talking, she described who she wanted to be, freed from the shackles of her overbearing parents. Over the last few months, every step of the way was patient, tender and thoughtful. She discovered her own personal style as we shopped for clothes together. These were tentative steps, but with a growing charisma and confidence, she blossomed into the sensual woman before me.Aveline looked immaculate in a fitted pinafore dress tailored to her slender figure, pressing the heft of her bust into enticing curves. All hidden under a white collarless and long-sleeved shirt, she was simultaneously demure and sensual. Of course, she wore her chantilly lace choker. To the cognoscenti of such things, it was symbolic of her ownership.We sat on the edge of the bed together. Without adjusting her attitude, Aveline turned to face me. Her immaculate black hair caught the diffused sunbeams, and she blinked those baby-blue eyes.“So, Aveline, what are your plans?”Shit, this was going to be impossible. I could not remove my gaze from those addictive Parisian red lips.“My friend Angelique has an apartment in Marais. Her flatmate is leaving soon, and she has promised me her room.”With those wide upturned eyes, she transformed into Little Bird, “Madame Duprix, may I stay here for a month?”A month was a long time. I thought this was a familial row over by the weekend. It was something more drastic.“You know your mother came to find me today.”Her head dipped, and I could see a sense of shame, “I know. I begged her not to. She was seething when she returned.”“She called me a whore.” I shook my head and refused to react further – the bastards.There was no flicker of emotion, “I am sorry she did that. They were suspicious. So my brother followed me from Sceaux to your apartment and then onto the club. They betrayed me.”“Yes, she told me. I am sorry, Aveline.”“Madame Kızılay Escort Duprix, I will no longer live a lie,” she pleaded, “and they are in denial.”I put my arm around her, “It’s okay. So why us? Why come here.”“I heeded your words last week and thought of little else. Your husband is a good man, and you are a beautiful woman because you experienced such pain. I am not so brave. I cannot make those mistakes.”If only she knew, twenty-one years old with a soul and wisdom that put mine to shame.“And your engagement? You did not tell us.”“Broken.”That caught me off guard, and I eased back to face her, “Already?”“By text message,” there was steel in her eyes, “I have not loved him for some time. As I said, Madame Duprix, I will not live a lie.”“Ooh, la la,” I blew out my cheeks at the cold brutality of her words.Please do not curl your lips like that. Mon Dieu, she will be the death of me.I had to concentrate, “Monsieur Richardson thinks that to be here, you should be how we know you, and I agree.”With a faint gasp of acceptance, those smoky eyes plunged to my lips as hers simpered.Oh God, please listen to my words.“For us, you will be Little Bird. I am the mistress of this house, and inside it, you will do as I say.”She consented with a solitary nod, “Nothing would please me more.”“Outside this house and at work, you are Aveline.” I paused and looked her square in the eyes, “Although, I think it is the same person now, not like springtime.”“Yes, Madame Duprix. This is who I am. I have more confidence now.”Didn’t she just.“Then you can stay.”She gazed into my eyes, soft, as a loving kitten, “Thank you, Madame Duprix. I will do everything you command.”Fuck, I was in trouble.I looked at the suitcase, “Are these all your things?”“I will bring some more things tomorrow, but I will never live there again.”“Okay. One month, Little Bird.”That name quivered through her soul as her gaze returned to my lips. I was helpless to their magnetic pull. No woman wears such intense makeup, not together like that. Eyeshadow and painted lips together is a faux pas in France with immoral overtones. Not for Aveline, she courted attention like a siren, only to dash their admiration on the rocks.I heard her tempting song as the distance between us narrowed.A significant part of her insane beauty was this trap, half naïve-innocence, half resolute confidence. It churned within me as the humid warmth of a storm with the excitement of the thunder to come.Rescuing me, she tilted her head, with those wide doe eyes so patient and hopeful. If she bit her lip, the red would mark her teeth. I wanted her to mark me all over my body. I embraced the surge of heat and surrendered completely. Suddenly, I was eighteen again, lousy for the need of a potent kiss to soothe my distress and enflame my desires.When it came, with its supple texture, as a veneration to her mistress. My God, she could have any man or woman she wanted with a kiss like this. My hands were not my own. Capturing her springy breast firmed the pillows pressed to my lips. She kissed again as a nascent temptress; I was sure she understood her evocative potential. It cut my mind adrift, and I yearned for so much more. Here for a month, it felt like an age, and it washed through me as a torrent of lust. Her mouth opened, and a flick of my tongue was the innuendo for her breasts and sex.
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