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inglouriously) wrote2010-11-10 06:02 pm
inglouriously) wrote2010-11-10 06:02 pm
Entry tags:
Business and Pleasure
So...I wrote a thingy. It's smutty. You have been warned.
WHO: Jean-Baptiste Girard and Léonie Lefébvre
WHAT: Doin' stuuuff.
WHERE: Jean's apartment
WHEN: Sometime in the near past, I would imagine.
WARNINGS: Sexy tiems. Also, possibly sketchy French. Sorry.
"I assume you collected it, then?" Girard gazed up at the woman before him from the armchair he graced so well, giving her an expectant smile. She nodded, stepping forward on the expensive carpet.
"You know I would not have come without it." They spoke in French, their shared tongue, both voices soft and pleasant. Léonie reached into the inner pocket of her jacket, pulling out a small drawstring bag. It was deceptively heavy as it fell into Jean's palm, clinking softly. "It was quite easy, really." She had taken on the appearance of one of the household's maids, slipped into the mistress's boudoir, broken into the safe with a tap of the wand, and retreated into the night clutching a drawstring bag worth more money than the Ferrari parked outside the manor she had just infiltrated. She had Apparated into Barcelona twenty minutes ago, taking a moment to morph back to her regular appearance before stepping out of the alleyway a few blocks away from Jean's apartment complex, and then come straight up here.
"I do wonder, though, what the other maids thought of their colleague's sudden penchant for high fashion." She hadn't had time to change out of her current attire, a jade green silk cocktail dress under a black leather motorcycle jacket and Loboutin heels. Quick as a flash, her hands were clasped behind her back girlishly, blue eyes glinting mischeivously in the low light of Jean's office.
Jean laughed lowly. "My dear, you astound me as ever." Her lips lifted in a smile, before glancing at his clock.
"Why, Jean, it's eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. What on Earth are you doing at home?" She would have thought he would be at a nightclub somewhere, or a gourmet restaurant, living life to the fullest as he was wont to do. Léonie's eyebrows cocked upward. "No plans this evening?"
The Monegasque businessman shook his head, amusement playing in his features. "I'm afraid not. But, no regrets. If I had, I might have missed the pleasure of your lovely company."
It appeared that this was precisely what Léonie had wanted to hear. "Well, I really would hate to deliver and dash." She advanced towards the chair which Jean occupied a few more steps, perching herself on the arm. "It's been too long since you and I have had a chance to catch up." She crossed her legs in quite a calculated fashion, the hemline of her dress hitching upward to expose the top of her black stocking, held up by an expensive-looking garter belt. Like magnetism, Jean's gaze was drawn downward, before making a leisurely trip back up her body, meeting her eyes once again.
"I agree entirely," was his response. The two were known to mix business and pleasure, but it had been awhile since they'd had any cause to meet for longer than a few moments, or alone for that matter. Now seemed to be the perfect time to 'catch up,' so to speak. She shifted subtly, so that quite suddenly she was seated across Jean's lap. Léonie laced one arm around Jean's neck, the other arm resting on the side of his neck, while he placed a hand on her hip, thumb grazing the green silk of her dress appreciatively.
"Je te veux." She placed her lips against Jean's ear and moaned gently, for his hand had suddenly found its way up her skirt and was now toying with the hem of her underwear. Léonie squirmed gently in his lap, returning the attention with a playful nip at the skin of his neck, before turning his head toward her with her free hand and kissing him slowly, luxuriantly. Jean responded by looping two fingers through her panties and tugging downward gently; Léonie raised her hips slightly to allow freedom of movement.
Jean pressed two fingers firmly between her legs, delighting in the whimper this action elicited from her red lips as he stroked slowly downward and then back up, circling her clitoris delicately. He felt himself stiffening, straining against his finely tailored trousers. Meanwhile, Léonie continued to ravish his mouth and the skin of his neck with attention, fingers sliding down his chest and resting on the knot of his tie, which was quickly undone and hanging loose.
Jean's fingers ceased their stroking and trailed down the inside of her thigh, caressing her skin. As his hand reached her knee, it curved underneath suddenly. Using both hands, Jean lifted Léonie and repositioned her so that she straddled his lap. He pushed her skirt up over her waist, and with a breathy sigh Léonie reached down between their bodies. Her fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, the zipper falling open in the process. With a rustle of fabric, his pants and underwear were pushed down below his knees.
The woman's hands rested on the arms of the chair as she lowered herself down onto him, emitting a faint cry of pleasure as he entered her. Likewise, Jean moaned low in his throat, eliciting a faint chuckle from Léonie. "Ça te plaît?" The muscles of her thighs tensed before pushing her back upwards, teasing him with her wet sex for what seemed to be an excruciating eternity before easing back down his shaft. "C'est super." Jean couldn't help the slight bucking of his hips; he was eager for more already. As if taking the hint, Léonie began to pick up speed, breath coming out in pants as she worked her hips up and down over him.
Jean placed his hands on Léonie's hips under her skirt, guiding her movements, his fingers digging into her flesh. Once, his hand fell against her flank with a dull smack, more for encouragement than any desire to inflict pain. Her head came to rest against his right shoulder, teeth occasionally grasping at the material of his shirt as she clenched her jaw. As they both neared completion, the thrusts became shorter, less coordinated, but the intensity and friction between their two bodies was nearly palpable.
Léonie felt the muscles in the lower half of her body begin to tense first. Her head fell back and her fingers gripped the arms of the chair as she tightened around Jean's shaft for what seemed like eternity, stars popping behind her eyelids. "Merde," she gasped, taking in lungfuls of air, before leaning in to whisper in Jean's ear, "Venu pour moi." He groaned lowly as he continued to thrust, driving into his employee ceaselessly until his met his own climax moments later. Léonie placed a single kiss on Jean's lips, pushing her hair away from her glistening forehead.
"Pleasure doing business with you," she murmured against his mouth.
WHO: Jean-Baptiste Girard and Léonie Lefébvre
WHAT: Doin' stuuuff.
WHERE: Jean's apartment
WHEN: Sometime in the near past, I would imagine.
WARNINGS: Sexy tiems. Also, possibly sketchy French. Sorry.
"I assume you collected it, then?" Girard gazed up at the woman before him from the armchair he graced so well, giving her an expectant smile. She nodded, stepping forward on the expensive carpet.
"You know I would not have come without it." They spoke in French, their shared tongue, both voices soft and pleasant. Léonie reached into the inner pocket of her jacket, pulling out a small drawstring bag. It was deceptively heavy as it fell into Jean's palm, clinking softly. "It was quite easy, really." She had taken on the appearance of one of the household's maids, slipped into the mistress's boudoir, broken into the safe with a tap of the wand, and retreated into the night clutching a drawstring bag worth more money than the Ferrari parked outside the manor she had just infiltrated. She had Apparated into Barcelona twenty minutes ago, taking a moment to morph back to her regular appearance before stepping out of the alleyway a few blocks away from Jean's apartment complex, and then come straight up here.
"I do wonder, though, what the other maids thought of their colleague's sudden penchant for high fashion." She hadn't had time to change out of her current attire, a jade green silk cocktail dress under a black leather motorcycle jacket and Loboutin heels. Quick as a flash, her hands were clasped behind her back girlishly, blue eyes glinting mischeivously in the low light of Jean's office.
Jean laughed lowly. "My dear, you astound me as ever." Her lips lifted in a smile, before glancing at his clock.
"Why, Jean, it's eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. What on Earth are you doing at home?" She would have thought he would be at a nightclub somewhere, or a gourmet restaurant, living life to the fullest as he was wont to do. Léonie's eyebrows cocked upward. "No plans this evening?"
The Monegasque businessman shook his head, amusement playing in his features. "I'm afraid not. But, no regrets. If I had, I might have missed the pleasure of your lovely company."
It appeared that this was precisely what Léonie had wanted to hear. "Well, I really would hate to deliver and dash." She advanced towards the chair which Jean occupied a few more steps, perching herself on the arm. "It's been too long since you and I have had a chance to catch up." She crossed her legs in quite a calculated fashion, the hemline of her dress hitching upward to expose the top of her black stocking, held up by an expensive-looking garter belt. Like magnetism, Jean's gaze was drawn downward, before making a leisurely trip back up her body, meeting her eyes once again.
"I agree entirely," was his response. The two were known to mix business and pleasure, but it had been awhile since they'd had any cause to meet for longer than a few moments, or alone for that matter. Now seemed to be the perfect time to 'catch up,' so to speak. She shifted subtly, so that quite suddenly she was seated across Jean's lap. Léonie laced one arm around Jean's neck, the other arm resting on the side of his neck, while he placed a hand on her hip, thumb grazing the green silk of her dress appreciatively.
"Je te veux." She placed her lips against Jean's ear and moaned gently, for his hand had suddenly found its way up her skirt and was now toying with the hem of her underwear. Léonie squirmed gently in his lap, returning the attention with a playful nip at the skin of his neck, before turning his head toward her with her free hand and kissing him slowly, luxuriantly. Jean responded by looping two fingers through her panties and tugging downward gently; Léonie raised her hips slightly to allow freedom of movement.
Jean pressed two fingers firmly between her legs, delighting in the whimper this action elicited from her red lips as he stroked slowly downward and then back up, circling her clitoris delicately. He felt himself stiffening, straining against his finely tailored trousers. Meanwhile, Léonie continued to ravish his mouth and the skin of his neck with attention, fingers sliding down his chest and resting on the knot of his tie, which was quickly undone and hanging loose.
Jean's fingers ceased their stroking and trailed down the inside of her thigh, caressing her skin. As his hand reached her knee, it curved underneath suddenly. Using both hands, Jean lifted Léonie and repositioned her so that she straddled his lap. He pushed her skirt up over her waist, and with a breathy sigh Léonie reached down between their bodies. Her fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, the zipper falling open in the process. With a rustle of fabric, his pants and underwear were pushed down below his knees.
The woman's hands rested on the arms of the chair as she lowered herself down onto him, emitting a faint cry of pleasure as he entered her. Likewise, Jean moaned low in his throat, eliciting a faint chuckle from Léonie. "Ça te plaît?" The muscles of her thighs tensed before pushing her back upwards, teasing him with her wet sex for what seemed to be an excruciating eternity before easing back down his shaft. "C'est super." Jean couldn't help the slight bucking of his hips; he was eager for more already. As if taking the hint, Léonie began to pick up speed, breath coming out in pants as she worked her hips up and down over him.
Jean placed his hands on Léonie's hips under her skirt, guiding her movements, his fingers digging into her flesh. Once, his hand fell against her flank with a dull smack, more for encouragement than any desire to inflict pain. Her head came to rest against his right shoulder, teeth occasionally grasping at the material of his shirt as she clenched her jaw. As they both neared completion, the thrusts became shorter, less coordinated, but the intensity and friction between their two bodies was nearly palpable.
Léonie felt the muscles in the lower half of her body begin to tense first. Her head fell back and her fingers gripped the arms of the chair as she tightened around Jean's shaft for what seemed like eternity, stars popping behind her eyelids. "Merde," she gasped, taking in lungfuls of air, before leaning in to whisper in Jean's ear, "Venu pour moi." He groaned lowly as he continued to thrust, driving into his employee ceaselessly until his met his own climax moments later. Léonie placed a single kiss on Jean's lips, pushing her hair away from her glistening forehead.
"Pleasure doing business with you," she murmured against his mouth.
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Jean is a bicycle and I love every minute of it.
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