Eric Vincent - No-Ip.com

ERIC VINCENT
ARLETTE’S SAGA
VOLUME 1
WITH THE MASKS OFF

Site: http://ericvincent.no-ip.org/
2
Arlette’s saga, volume 1
© Eric Vincent 1999. All rights reserved.
Every resemblance with having existed, existing or coming situations or characters
would be a pure coincidence.

With the masks off
For Arlette, the woman who gave me up the sight…
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
The monotonous kilometers of motorway, similar to a life without cheese, were streaming
with an unflagging rhythm. Arlette knew the road through and through : she had
accomplished it so many times, always with the same devotion, with the same desire
which gnawed her belly. However, she distrusted the final part, in the Parisian area. The
belt of the city always suffered of chronic traffic jam where she came in, around 5 pm.
Every time that she had parked her car where she could, she went up the stairs to the
second floor, the heart beating. She inserted the key, his key, in the heavy lock. Nobody.
Eric systematically came at home after. He liked to come in and to discover her clothes,
the posture she adopted to coil up on the sofa. His was never tired of feeling the
sensation of her raped intimacy with surprising a woman installed in his home. Each time,
his imaginary became stronger, brought in a flood of very visible emotions and he made
her love intensely, without undressing himself, making last the pleasure, as she desired it
passionately.
When she was driving, she dreamed of all the first times she knew with him. She always
was surprised to bring to the light new hidden facets of this man, similar to a Russian
dolly. When she thought she had a turn of his character, convinced to know him until the
limit of his thoughts, he chose this precise moment to reveal another part of his personal
characteristics. And when she looked the whole she found out, the pieces of the puzzle
patiently collated, it filled up her heart and dimmed her sight of a salt emotional liquid.
He enjoyed torturing his brain until he imagines and realizes something which would
surprise her. The sole limits were his imaginary one's, totally exacerbated by his first
wedding, made of frustrations.
As she was eager to discover a new small colored figurine inside the nest of Russian dolls,
she put more on speed, nearing the red limit of the motor's rating. That was always like
this : she imagined herself against him and everything went faster : her heart, her speed,
her desires. During their first meeting, on the fine sand of Tunisia, he asked her if she
wanted to live "others magical instants". She accepted without suspecting that magic
would be the cement of their meeting. Colors, perfumes, words, presents, so many
sensations reminding, daily, his presence in spite of the kilometers between them.
Once, very special, he dared an unprecedented trick. She came at Paris during the week,
by train. The appointment had been taken at the feet of the venerable lady of iron (not
Margaret Thatcher), the Eiffel tower. A meeting place easy to find, she thought. In fact,
the party occurred in the Eiffel tower, in the panoramic restaurant named "Le Jules
Verne". They had dinner tête-à-tête and took advantage of the view that couldn't be
obstructed over all Paris completely lighted up.
The dinner was sprinkled and the overheated spirits got a natural inclination to lead the
conversation back to the sexual allusions. The shape of the wine's bottle reminded them a
sex, they thought to discern a typical bump under the trouser of the waiter, a reaction due
to the dress that Arlette wore and which was opened at very interesting places.
After the meal, in the lift of one of the tower's feet, it carried on all the more. Their
bodies touched themselves lightly time and time, she by provoking with her eyes and her
suggestive walk swaying the hips, he by keeping his hands in the pockets with many
difficulties. They laughed at the contrite appearances of the sixteenth borough's lower
middle class, unintentional witnesses of the erotic scene.
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With the masks off
The frozen wind of February didn't weaken the animal and wine-growing heat which had
taken them. They strolled during long minutes on the lawn, crossed the Trocadero and
often stopped to give themselves up to long and languorous kisses. When they reached
the subway station, they could get into the end carriage. It was wholly deserted at this late
hour of the night.
It should be over midnight, the end of the duty was close. As there wasn't a soul, the man
plucked up courage and slipped one hand on the tits, the other hand under the dress of
his accomplice. He was curious to know if she wore underwear. Nothing ! Not the
faintest material… Instead of this, he found steady erected boobs and, downer, some
soaked lips puffed out by the desire. The slipping of the fingers in the secret folds
snatched screams off from Arlette who straightened hers back suddenly.
Her companion would be assaulted by a different arch : the kind of arch able to provoke
some irretrievable damages for a fly of trouser. As nobody went into the carriage at the
next station and as his trouser ventured the sudden accident, he sat down and got out
quickly his penis. He raised the dress of his female companion and impaled her violently
on his erected stick. In this posture, nobody could guess that she was deeply pierced. She
got an instantaneous orgasm, one of these she preferred, during the first intromission. As
she swung on the rear, she offered her neck without defense and he didn't require a great
deal of persuasion to nibble her copiously.
She swayed the hips, excited by the idea to make love in a public place, excited by the idea
to be discovered by new travelers going up without any warning. At each stop, the tension
raised of one step, they carried on the game further, looking for an increase of the
pleasure based on this unusual situation. He gripped her hips and gave himself up to
make explode the reserve of one warm cum's week deeply in the Arlette's belly.
They got consciousness slowly because they were both completely upset them by this
stimulating experience. They were convinced that the old seats of the subway had not
known their first jolts tonight ; others pairs did it before them and they understood how it
could be exciting when they discovered the control's camera of the train-driver just in
front of them. This electronic eye, usually dedicated to the verifying of the climbing up
and down of the travelers, had probably brought a first class spectacle to the driver very
happy, this time, to accomplish the evening's duty. The show was worth all the bonus and
was different of the groups of hooligans and others nightly birds doing games more
destructive.
Arlette turned to her lover. In spite of the winter heavy colds, they didn't have any
handkerchief ; so Arlette decided to clean the erected and glancing sex, loosing any drop
of liquid with a sensuous perfume. She had some difficulties to put it again in its cotton's
jail, an additional difficulty which meant an exceptional health and a night as short as a
skirt of the sixties. What an evening !
As Arlette entered in the quarter of "La Defense", reminding these adventures, she felt a
moistness with spicy effluvium between her thighs. Unconsciously, she rolled her lips the
ones against the others. The vision of the erected swollen penis was enough to bring her
in trance. She wanted to be labored. Now ! She couldn't wait. She parked as quick as
possible in a narrow street, stopped the motor of the car. Spreading hers legs from the
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
door to the gear stick, she introduced immediately two fingers in her overheated grotto
and kept the ring finger for another hole, narrower.
She moved suddenly on her seat, rubbing her asshole on the texture. In less than two
minutes, she felt the sudden pleasure, knocking against the ceiling of the car many times
with her head, her tits pressed by the safety belt locked by the shock.
A passer-by hit the window to have news of her health. When she saw him, she switched
on gain with eagerness, without waiting the heating of the diesel motor and she burst out,
diverted by this delicate posture. Since she played these lonely games no matter where,
sooner or later, she should do it in front of the eyes of an unintentionally voyeur.
At least, she reached Colombes city, where her companion lived in.
- Hey ! He is waiting outside ! she noticed in a loud voice.
It wasn't his habits. Moreover, did he have some habits ? He was so unforeseeable that it
gave some spicy to their love. When she came close to him, she pulled down the window.
He laid a slipped kiss, as he was fond of. A kiss beginning on the lips, slipping on the
cheeks and ending on the neck. Like this, even with a simple good morning, he geared up
the sensations. She delighted herself beforehand, desired to relate her adventure in "La
Defense" but she changed hers mind. He seemed serious, worried. An appearance she
didn't know. Usually, he was so player, so able to pull hers leg to give her pleasure (the
only times where he disguised the truth, for the good reason) that the serious appearance
may hide a new scenario.
- Let your car in the underground parking lot ! he said without any word of love.
- On which place ?
- On mine. My car is outside. It's better.
- Why ?
- I'll explain later, he announced seriously.
He freed the way to let her parking the Seat on the number 13 place. Irony of fate or wink
of the destiny, he lived in 13, Tunisia Avenue, flat 13. Their lucky figure since their
meeting on the 13 th September 1999. The figure appeared many times ; straight away, the
first poem he wrote for her, was the 13 th with alexandrine. Then, often, telepathic events
occurred between them around 13 hours. Several times, they noted with joy that the
restaurants where they had dinner, were either located on the 13 th of a street, or marked
13 over 20 in the "Gault and Millau" culinary guide. Fortune or coincidence ? What about
the code 1313 AJT 92 on the license plate ?
Just after having closed the car, she left quickly the car park poor lighted. She looked her
small Ibiza car with a strange feeling. She had the bad feeling to see it for the last time.
She dismissed this idea from hers mind to rush on her lover. She felt a burst of anguish
when he almost pushed back her. He took her baggage and threw it without care on the
rear seat of the Punto car.
- We have no time ! We have to escape ! he interrupted curtly.
- To escape ? Arlette asked.
- I've got problems ! It's too dangerous ! Let's go !
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With the masks off
She didn't ask anymore questions. She sat at the passenger's place and shut hers safety
belt. It was a good idea because he started as a mad man, making howling the motor. He
jumped the stop sign at the end of the street and carried on all the more. He was stuck in
his rearview mirrors, in the speedometer, taking some risks despite the traffic jam. The
desire which gnawed Arlette some minutes before, had completely disappeared. Instead
of this, she felt the fear in the entrails and her heart beat with an unknown rhythm. She
tried to put him a question.
- What is it happening ? What are you afraid of ?
- I have problems, big problems.
- What ?
- In my factory, I saw a file I should never have seen. Misappropriation of money. Several
million of euros.
- This is a simple case of slush fund.
- Oh no ! Not when we know who committed this crime !
- Who is he ?
- Alexis Tchekov, a financial and administrative director.
- And so ?
- Employees are well paid in our society but, he, it's very known that he spends more
money that he earns.
- What does it mean ?
- Russian mafia.
- The mafia ?
- Yes but not any mafia ! Russian are the most merciless.
- Does he know you know ?
- Yes. When I saw the anomaly, I went in his office to talk about with him. Instead of
verifying who was the user, the author of this high-jacking. I threw myself into the lion's
mouth. I'm stupid.
- What can he do ? He won't kill you !
- He won't backward in coming forward !
- No…
- There was this in my drawer… Eric said giving her a quilted envelope. Open it carefully.
Arlette separated the parts of paper and screamed loudly. The rests of a dangerous insect.
- My God ! It's a dead scorpion.
- Dead, yes ! Yesterday, when I opened the drawer, it got more swiftness. The sting
brushed me. One prick of this dirty bug and I was dead. It didn't come by hazard. And I
forget that… Eric stopped his sentence.
- And what ?
Eric wavered, had a grin that she would have classed as an ordinary smile but today, it
meant nothing good.
- I narrowly missed being run over by a car…
- What ?
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
- A big Mercedes, with an orange and green license plate. Diplomatic service. Fortunately,
I got the reflex to turn the head in the right direction ! Its motor made a hellish noise
when the driver accelerated. That's what saved me. They wanted to swat me…
- But… Where do we go ?
- We go abroad.
- What ?
- Just the time to think. I'll never come back to Paris, maybe never to France. I don't
know, I don't know anymore. I get into panic. I'm so afraid, Arlette.
The female nurse was totally flabbergasted by the new. Up today, the life with him had
been a model of feelings and variety. Now, it was over the understanding. Somebody
wanted to kill her beloved lover sweet-heart. To take him to her !
*
* *
The Russian mafia. The shadow of the octopus followed them as the sun came down to
the skyline. Eric had quick connected main road number 20 because he was convinced
that the Orly and Roissy airports weren't secured departure's points to escape France.
In her mind, Arlette asked herself why he absolutely wanted to escape the tricolor
territory. Maybe he didn't reveal al the truth. Did he intend to reach a country by the road
? They will need many hours. What then ? How will they pull through ? What did they live
on ? Within a short instant, she mused on calling her children to reassure them. She
changed hers mind : the phones were the less protected communication's instruments.
Anybody, especially a syndicate of the crime, could spy the talks with a powerful scanner.
When they crossed la Ferte-Allais village, Eric suddenly delivered these words :
- I've got an idea !
- Which one ? Arlette asked.
- We are going to jam the tracks a little bit more.
He turned on the right, to the airdrome. The road, made of holes and tar, didn't reflect
the quality of the tarmac. This airdrome accommodated venerable treasures of the first
and the second world wars. It was famous in the whole France for its museum of the air,
its numerous aerial events and spectacles of stunt flying. Eric stopped close to a small
detached house and got out of the car. Just before Arlette would had time to bring
something up against, he gave her an advice :
- If I make a sign to you, move the car. Put it between the both hangars, here, in the
recess. Nobody will see it from the road.
Then, he entered the head office of a small air company. From the place she stayed, she
could see him to hold a parley with two men. He produced them a piece of cardboard,
probably his pilot license. Hey ! That was strange ! He didn't speak of the success of this
examination. Why didn't he inform her of this ?
The palavers lasted around ten minutes. He seemed furious and was ready to leave them
when one of the two men called him back. The speech began again during one or two
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With the masks off
minutes. He made a sign to Arlette. As decided together, she parked the Fiat in the
secluded place. Effectively, in this place, the car remained invisible for the drivers on the
road. She took their baggage and came to him. He was alone and fussed around a white
middle wingspan plane which was endowed of an important compartment of the motor.
- I should lie them ! I dislike it ! It's dangerous ! he said to begin.
- To lie ? About what ?
- About my qualifications and about the flight plan.
- I don't understand. You don't have any license of pilot ?
- Yes, I have ! But, I am not qualified on the kind of plane. To be qualified, I have to
accomplish several laps with an instructor. I have no time. More, I gave them Bordeaux as
final destination.
- Where do we go truly ?
- To Lyon-Satolas airport. We will board an aircraft on the first flight for Italy.
- Italy ? The country of the mafia ?
- Exactly ! Russian and Italian can't bear themselves, apparently. The Russians will let us
quiet over there.
- When do we go ?
- Now, he said while catching the baggage and throwing them behind the seats.
He asked Arlette to seat, he fastened the safety belt carefully and took over the controls
of the plane. He caught the check list which dragged out on the instrument panel. He did
scrupulously the verifying operations. He switched on, screamed "nobody" and pushed
on "start", noting that nobody answered. He waited the indicators switching to green,
announced himself on the radio and turned into the taxiway. As usually, he tried the
magnetos cuts, tested the warming up of the carburetor and operated all the controls a
last time. The flaps were down up to ten degrees, he came on the take-off strip, opened
the throttle and left quickly the ground. He retracted the landing gear and when he was
over five hundred feet, he turned on the right to move away calmly from the airdrome.
When he was sure to be out of view, he rectified his course and adjusted his beacon's
detector on the Auxerre's frequency.
The plane, a Beech Baron of the Cessna firm, was a powerful single-engine aircraft, able
to reach three kilometers per hour of cruise speed. In less than one hour and half, they
will land at Lyon. Arlette deluded herself that they would find free hotel rooms because it
was the beginning of September. She would sleep on it, they would find another solution.
Her unlucky companion would search the protection of the police or he would go directly
to the General Intelligence Service or to the Service of Territory Watching. These state
organizations would insure him a future rosier than venomous sting, a big trace of tire on
the abdomen or a bullet right between the both eyes.
Arlette laid her head against the arm of her man, curled up against him, took his free hand
in hers and pressed it very hard, taking a little advantage of its life before it escapes under
the dirty job of a hired assassin. She shivered, suddenly under an innermost fear giving
her severe stomach pains. It was not the time to be ill, there were no toilets in this kind of
plane. She closed her eyes and the scenes of the past luck came to calm her anguishes. She
concentrated more on the hours of tenderness, really soothing. This method had an
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
immediate effect and freed her spirit during long minutes. The weather was excellent : the
sky was perfectly unclouded, it would be the sunset around 8 pm, and they will have
enough time to come at Lyon. They just had to be sure to cross through the missiles, the
bombs or all the others deadly madness imagined by the chemical engineers of the
Russian Cosa Nostra.
He appreciated a lot that she joined her fingers to his. He was strengthened for lack of
being confident in the future and in the hope to live still long years. She valued him and it
surprised him a little bit more everyday. She really gave herself to him, body and soul, so
much that no word could describe it. As there was no boisterousness in the air, he
increased the cruising speed, brushing the yellow zone. He was longing to arrive.
*
* *
He entered in the waiting circuit of Lyon-Satolas, obeying the orders of the air traffic
controller, the pilot didn't forget to raise the landing gear (he always had flied on nonretractable
landing gear aircraft) before beginning his going down. This gesture avoided
him a disastrous crash landing, the only delicious landings he could bear were these he did
on the belly of his female companion, Arlette. She was a little bit ashamed to have slept
and to have let him alone when he lived tragic and crucial instants. He answered it was
normal that she was tired after two weeks of work without calm, three hours of motorway
and terrible emotions I would like not to impose her.
He landed with sweetness, making whine the main landing gear. He had liked the aircraft :
its comfort, its maneuverability and its cruising speed. He almost regretted to let it to the
motor mechanic of the rent company but he was worried by the idea to shuffle the
tracks.
- Where do we go, now ? asked Arlette. To the hotel ? If you want, I've got some cash.
Not to pay by bank card and not to risk to be identified.
- I also thought some cash. Firstly, I will collect some news about the flights. It should
not last a very long time. If I find something, we leave France now. OK ?
- OK ! she confirmed.
He went away quickly, to Air France stand. Arlette examined closely the passengers,
looking for the faintest hostile look, watching for the faintest sign of impending sign.
Although it was over 8 pm, the airport was packed with travelers. Business men, some
groups of tourists, white for these leaving the airport, browned for these coming back,
and not far from her, two men with costumes, leaning on theirs elbows at the bar, having
nothing else to do than to show their breadths. They didn't cease to interrupt their speech
as Arlette didn't look them. When she focused on them, they carried on the speed with a
steadiness too suspicious to be honest.
Arlette went a bit from them while looking at them out of the corner of hers eye. They
stood up and paid for their drinks. They followed in hers footsteps. She agglutinated
herself to a group of pensioners waiting for the departure to a sunny country. This
strategy didn't prevent the both men to be at hers heels. As she was not too far from
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With the masks off
them, she could ear and understand that they were foreigners. They expressed themselves
in an unknown language which consonance was not Latin. Arlette started to shiver. They
seemed to speak in Russian ! She shivered more.
One of them, a guy with blond straight hair, blue eyes, squared jaw, came up to her and
talked her with a nearly perfect French, with a zest of accent :
- Would you enjoy to join us ?
- To join you ?
- Yes. My friend and me, we would like to have a dinner with you.
- What ?
- We would like to invite you for dinner and… more if you desire it. We have nothing
against the women, sometimes.
Arlette was staggered. This guy and his acolyte were both homosexuals. The second one,
a little bit smaller and less blond, joined the first man. They proposed her a special party
with three persons ! They had got the nerve, the fellow men ! They were not gangsters or
Russian killers, as she had imagined first, but they were two tourists searching special
feelings, maybe sexual tourists who liked the French charm. Arlette personified the charm
by the French way.
A party such this one wouldn't offend her in others times and others places. However,
she was totally crazy of another largely sufficient to satiate her and he was in danger. She
too, by consequence. Two excellent reasons to refuse their proposal. They would have to
attend to themselves alone.
Diverted, Arlette asked which one dominated the other. Did they exchange the roles
every day, every week ? Or did they have some preferences ? The great question !
Logically, if they proposed a trio, they should like both to penetrate. And consequently, to
exchange ! She regretted not to assist to their revels. What an exciting vision ! Alas ! The
urgency required to escape the mafia.
- Well… I'm sorry to bungle your projects but I aim to spend my night with my boy
friend.
- We are not jealous. He can join us.
- No, really, we won't do it.
- Never mind ! the smaller of both said. You don't know that you loose !
That was their last words. They let her as her regular man came back. They seemed to
give chase again, looking for another prey. In the hurry, she didn't think to ask them
about their nationality. Just to verify if her forewarnings were exact.
- What happened ? Eric said, wanting some news.
- The both guys made me a proposal.
- A proposal ? What kind ?
- The kind very daring.
- Oh… They hunt together ?
- Yes. They keep themselves busy both when they come back empty handed.
- I see… They dare all, these French men.
- They were not French.
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
- What ?
- No.
- Which origin ?
- Slav, I mean.
- Russian ?
- Maybe…
- Shit ! That's all I needed !
- No… Look ! They connect another woman. No… I think they are looking for another
partner. They don't follow us. I believe it. At the beginning, I was afraid. Moreover, I'm
always afraid. Why don't you require the help of the police ?
- I… I don't know… I want to be forgotten. Police is powerless against these criminals.
France is a great country but it's not easy to change totally his identity. One day or
another, everything is known. Especially if the Russian Camorra uses all the means to find
us. How can we know the extent of this organization ? How far go its spies ? Is there one
in each big town ? I get the wind up ! Now, I want to put some distance between them
and me.
- You mean "we" ?
- Yes. I'm sorry to bring you in this hell.
- I'll follow you to the world's end, if needed. Talking of that, did you find some plane
tickets ?
- Yes. We go now. We don't need to register our baggage, we can keep them in the plane.
- Ah ?
- It's a special flight. This is a small jet, a Falcon jet, I mean. Come !
He drove her out of the embarking hall. The plane was apart from the others, near a
green and gray hangar. The jet, brand new, had been painted with the colors of the
rainbow. Its storage capacity was around twenty or thirty passengers, depending of the
kind of inner equipping.
To access it, they went down the staircase integrated in the door. The young woman had
the honor to enter first. She faced immediately an air hostess. She was really surprised to
discover a bald cockpit, without the faintest seat but endowed of sofas, a television, a
videotape recorder, a high fidelity chain and a bar. It was a flying saloon. A door allowed
to access to the pilot cabin and to a small room having a fridge, an oven, some electric
hot-plates, some cupboards, all needed to prepare or to warm a lunch.
- Happy birthday ! a familiar voice said, behind her.
- What ?
- Wednesday, it was the 13 th September. We celebrate our first year of love
- But…
As a matter of welcome, the air hostess gave her a cup full of an orange and red cocktail.
Arlette understood less and less. Of course, it was the 15 th September and she hoped he
would have prepared a small surprise for the weekend. But events had turned acid since
her arrival. She had been thrown in a maelstrom of fear and escape.
- This is the end of the police episode of the weekend ! he commented on.
- I don't understand. You mean…
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With the masks off
- I mean that the mafia doesn't follow us, that there never was an Alexis Tchekov and no
misappropriation of money. I imagined the whole story to verify if you would be able to
follow me, if you would be afraid for me !
- It can't be true !
The pilots got out of the cockpit and applauded her, and this reassured her. She had got
the feeling to be trapped by the "surprise on prize" team. She burst out laughing when she
noticed the accomplice eye of her lover. He was proud of him, proud to succeed in
coaxing her to bring her here, in this airplane, to fly to an unknown destination. She came
to glue him, in his arms, looking for the comfort after the effort to bare a stressing
situation. She was so afraid and, in the same time, everything had happened so quickly.
He had organized his project for several weeks ago, discretely. Even when the pilots went
back to their commands and when the air hostess asked them to seat during the takeoff,
Arlette kept the Eric's hand. As to be reassured that all this was only a staging. He played
perfectly his role. How did it ? How could he keep his serious attitude ? He was so
credible. He drove in Paris like Fangio, he faced all kinds of situation, her questions. As
talking of questions, she was burning to ask him one. She didn't resist a very long time
and asked :
- How did you all this ?
- With a little bit of imagination.
- Eric… she said while pressing a bit more her fingers against hers. Where did you find all
these ideas ? The dead scorpion, it was existing ! It was real !
- Yes. My sun loaned me this one I brought from Tunisia, one year ago.
- It's crazy ! I didn't think to it. Of course, no trial of crushing ?
- No crushing !
- Alexis Tchekov ?
- Alexis is the first name of an ex-colleague and Tchekov, the name of an author.
- The plane ? How did you for the plane ?
- With the both guys ? We had some difficulties to stay serious. I have my license, I'm
authorized for the Beech Baron and the flight plan for Bordeaux never existed. The plane
was rent since two months !
- You rascal ! You know, I really believed you were in danger of death.
He gave her a reassuring kiss on her lips. Among all the ideas he had during his life, this
one was over all. The surprise for his ten years wedding's birthday, by Delphine, her
restaurateur girl friend, with thirty guests which came secretly, looked like a joke of a
schoolboy compared with this new invention. To succeed to make her believe that he was
chased, in danger of death, to involve her. It was great ! Arlette had plunged without
being asked. His plan had occurred without snag.
- The both homosexuals ? Did they belong to your plan ?
- No ! This is a whole hazard. The funniest, it's that they seemed to be Russian. They took
part, really unintentionally, to increase the fantastic side of our adventure. I should
improvise some dialogs about them. I pulled through well !
- What would you have done if I had accepted their proposal ? she suggested with this
rascal glimmer in the eyes that he would recognize among all.
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
- I would have been worried !
- So ?
- Well… I would have invited them aboard ! No other choice ! Then, I would have
explained as clear as possible the staging. Not easy !
- You spoke, just now, of the end of the police episode of the week-end. Which episode
will we take part to, now ?
- Now ? This one I prefer : the romantic one. We take off in a comfortable plane to
Venice…
*
* *
The jet flied over the Alps. The air hostess had served them a rapid Italian meal, as it was
necessary in this case. One of his other ideas. He liked to organize meals based on
themes. The first meal taken together, as he lived in the Vienne department, allowed of a
Greek salad and a Tunisian wine, as an homage for the both countries Arlette appreciated
the charms. He didn't want to demonstrate his talents of cooker, keeping himself more
for love. And making love was good only with an empty stomach.
The evening, in the plane, some anti-pasti and a salad with mozzarella had been served
with a nip of Chianti and Arlette got a pure and delicious marvel of Tiramisu. Her
companion avoided the dessert, liking better to reserve himself for her.
When they stayed alone on the sofa, this little rogue of Eric kneeled down close to the
Arlette's feet and laid his head on her belly. She put her hands on him, caressing his
cheeks, his temples, playing with his hairs. He slipped his hands the calf long, went up to
the side of her thighs. It made half open her legs. She desired his boy, his sex, his
strength, and his tenderness. The idea of making love in the sky, in a plane, made her
crazy. Crazy because of the idea that the pilots maybe had launched the automatic pilot
system and, with the air hostess, they were ready to watch a scene as in an erotic theater.
He climbed up the skirt to her waist, with kisses on the inner side of the thighs, where the
skin is the sweetest. She didn't have got any pant, even the faintest string and her sex
exhaled a flavor of wild honey. She should be totally soaking but he wanted more
moistness. He seemed to search something. She didn't know about what until the
television woke up suddenly. The videotape recorder started immediately.
Pornographic pictures filed of on the screen. The videocassette, which only Arlette could
see thanks to her position, was an anthology of the best movies of this family. An editing,
made as a hit-parade, mixing learnedly lesbian scenes, the use of gadgets each crazier than
the others, duos, trios, quartets and even a great chain of friendship between women
(around fifteen) laying on the ground, forming a circle, pecking themselves their small
apricots. This sight of different sexes, shaved or depilated for some of them, very thick
for others, filled Arlette with a true excitement without limit. She got an orgasm when he
was keeping himself busy of her clitoris with sweetness. Everything seemed her unreal :
the very crude scenes, the sweetness of her lover's tongue, the feelings of the flight at an
altitude of several thousands meters. She had no time to react after her emotions. His
man let her any second of calm. He sat on the sofa, turned her and forced her to impale
14

With the masks off
herself on his penis stretched at its maximum. She was glossy, opened to all proposals ; he
plunged in her slowly but surely, without meeting the faintest resistance.
In their positions, Arlette could watch the movie, he took advantage of the bum of her
partner that he kneaded and he just had to bend the head on the side to see the movie
show on the giant screen.
During the precise instant, when he bombarded her boiling belly, two men, Puerto Rican
or Mexican, very sturdy, endowed of huge penis, kept themselves busy of a tiny Asiatic
girl, looking like a dolly of rag between their hands. The scene was really unreal because
the difference of sort between the both giants and the girl was spectacular. The both
lovers couldn't take their eyes off from the screen when they saw two times twenty
centimeters introduced in the both orifices of their prey, a man in her pussy, the other
sodomizing her without care. Arlette and Eric believed that the Asiatic dolly would
scream of pain but it didn't occur. She was probably used to receive the double
penetrations with a high intensity and instead of screaming, she threw her head behind
and her kidneys became agitated to look for the pleasure. Her long brown hairs slipped
on her skin, hid him sometimes her face. Then, the man under this improvised sandwich
put hers hairs up and placed them at the opposite side of the camera, to allow the
producer to film all the enjoy of this beauty in heat. She howled her enjoy when they
reached the maximum speed of up and down.
The man over got out, turned her and they presented their homage made of cum she
received on her face, on the throat and on the tits. At the same instant, Eric did the same
thing : he threw Arlette on the sofa and freed himself directly in her mouth, just after
being sure thanks to special groans, that she had appreciated the show on television and
the staggering blows he had motioned strongly in her belly.
She used her tongue to delight herself of white seed. Each time, they got an intensive
pleasure of this phase of cleaning. He had known so many interdicts before, with his exwife,
that he exulted of joy at each click of tongue that she did with a look enough to
damn a saint. He didn't unbend of one centimeter ; always hard like iron, he bedded her
and came on her, tearing out a sigh of pleasure when he touched her uterus. He worked
on the given present, the thighs separated at the maximum, rejected over her shoulders.
In this position, he split her totally, he tore her and she couldn't do anything to hinder
him. She was obedient and dominated. The concept, the simple idea that he could be her
master, gave her a shock wave in the whole body. Moreover, the shock waves began to
link one after the others. Now, as he had expulsed the main part of his cum, he could go
up and down as he wanted, during half an hour if he would like. Time had no importance,
only the pleasure of Arlette had got importance. That brought her to madness : this sexual
power, mocking itself totally of his limited physical abilities. She didn't want that he
suffers for her but the pleasure, the enjoy, ah !… He made love so well… He was so able
to endure, to go to the end of his energy while bending like a stag.
She never ended to groan but couldn't take her eyes off the pornographic show. A man,
with harmonious shapes, with chestnut hairs, black eyes, sodomized with a never-ending
sweetness a superb browned hair girl with delicious turquoise blue eyes, six months
pregnant. She was kneeling, the face against a small cushion, relaxed, smiling, encouraging
her lover with gentle words. Arlette was fascinated by the roundness of the belly and this
one of the young woman's boobs. They were swollen, stretched. The man caressed them
15

Arlette’s saga, volume 1
and that gave a mix of pleasure and relief to the intended mum. Arlette wanted to know.
She stopped her lover, asked him to get out and turned herself. She gave him notice to
copy the show on television. He made to slip his penis in the narrow duct as it was a
special day (a little bit when we wore the beautiful clothes, for the going out of the
Sunday, except that here, his sex had forgotten to dress itself !).
He pushed slowly, caressing and splitting her beautiful both apples of love. Combining
the sight of the pregnant woman and her man with the sexual act which joined them, they
didn't last to explode of pleasure, fusing their bodies in the same time, proving one more
time that there couldn't have more osmosis in the world than between these both
persons. The second ejaculation weakened him but he wanted to stay in her, to respect
the pleasure that his lovely accomplice gave him. He liked to prolong the feelings with
sweetness, tenderness and love. For him, a man in love could be recognized by the
delicacy not to sleep or to escape secretly, after the sexual act.
Moreover, the act indeed didn't interest him so much, except to bring thousand and one
feelings to his partner. No, the most important thing, that was the present moment : to
stay in her while moving lightly, with a way nearly imperceptible, saturating her with sweet
kisses in the neck, nibbling the ears, the shoulders, making slip his lips on the back and
above all, primeval for him, expressing his thoughts by chosen words, with the most
tender form as possible, laid in the ears. He wanted that she knows his feelings at every
moment, that she knows he was crazy of their complicity without flaw. A man fully fallen
in love and well brought up, respectful of his woman, had to do so much. Otherwise, for
Eric, this kind of man belonged to the category of boors, a sort of porcine family to
whom, alas, three time alas, the masculine race belonged in a large majority. That's the
reason why that she felt an intense pleasure in her heart more important than an orgasm,
when he whispered tender words close to Arlette.
*
* *
Arlette didn't have any problem to sleep in the ivory satin's sheets. Near him, she felt
curiously appeased, calm and serene. He emitted some favorable waves that, if the slogan
wouldn't have been a registered trademark of Jacques Séguéla in 1981 for a president of
the French republic, looked like the quiet strength. He reinsured her. However, she didn't
ignore that he could be extremely fragile, even vulnerable. Emotion was written in his
genes and sometimes, he couldn't to hold it. Really obsessed by the worry of perfection,
he let himself down to the full discouragement, to the tears if he missed an aim or if he
thought having put his foot in it. What he hated most, was to tell some unintentionally
cutting words. The, he hated himself, wanted to cut off his tongue to punish himself,
wanted to disappear under tons of stones thrown to his face to make him pay for his
lapses of language. He was pitiless towards himself because he couldn't bare the faintest
negligence from him, the negligence being the first cause of divorce, especially his one.
Somebody knocked at the door of the bedroom. The master of the place was waked up
and authorized to enter. A young chambermaid appeared, pushing a wag made of rattan :
the breakfast ! She drew the curtains and the sunny light entered suddenly in the room.
The room was spacious and had got a rich decoration. The last evening, Arlette didn't
have time to admire the furniture, the ceilings with beautiful cornices and a colored
Venetian luster. Easy to understand : the man, really in form, had rushed to her as a
16

With the masks off
hungry tiger. He had taken her a great part of the night, accepting to reveal only one new
about the travel : he organized and economized cent by cent for ten months. When he
revealed this detail, Arlette extracted two major indications : first, the organization and the
payment for such a madness (the rental of the jet should swallow down a great part of the
budget) was an enterprise respectable and remarkable because he had not let the faintest
new (and, when we knew him, we knew that it was very difficult for him to keep a secret
about the surprises he organized ; what he was looking for, it was to have the pleasure to
torture pleasantly the other with no answer to her questions : he liked to play !).
The second indication pleased her a lot : he was enough sure of their love, of its strength,
quiet from the beginning of their relationship, to be certain that they would pass the Cape
of the first birthday.
She was on a cloud, as usually with him, because he did some tons of acts to give her
dreams and it worked. Sometimes, she told him that she didn't know how to thank him,
unable to find the words to do it, because the emotion embraced her. For him, this verbal
silence was the most beautiful of the rewards. The faintest comment would have meant
that there was something not perfect. Now, she was flabbergasted ! The bedroom was
marvelous, the breakfast, especially the coffee, gave off some effluviums which charmed
her nose and his man, very sweet this sunny morning, staid near her, his left hand on the
interior of her thigh, so close of her sex needing a caress.
Moreover, as the Italian employee poured the coffee, Arlette felt her desire to take shape.
One more time, he had called his telepathic sense to guess what she thought. The sheet of
the bed did a dark screen ; so, he began to titillate the clitoris, to masturbate her without
being discovered by the employee, very pretty after all. She looked them with a large smile
and this was the exact moment that Eric chose to plunge one finger between the wide
opened lips. Arlette had some difficulties to hide her emotion, which gave a huge joy to
the abominable profiteer. Helena, as it was written on her legal badge, stopped all her
gestures, understanding suddenly that she took part to a surprising early show.
She asked in a hesitating French if she could sit down at the bottom of the giant bed.
Arlette sent him an affirmative sign. Then, she pushed away the sheet, revealing her
intimacy occupied by a nervous finger. The Venetian girl, bewitched, could admire a
special "emotion" of the man reaching summits. She was more excited when they
changed of position : Arlette bent forward to administer a masterful masturbation with
her mouth and she parted the legs to allow her man to caress her vulva from behind.
Helena, seating on the border of the bed to take profit of the show, didn't resist a long
time to the temptation to add her name to the title. She faced them and opened her
marvelous thighs covered with Nylon. She didn't wear anything except a very thick black
mop. The blackness of her hairiness could be compared with the blackness of her
glittering eyes. She showed a delicious rose sex, parting very large the folds of bordered
flesh. She masturbated herself frantically and had some pleasure very quick, very excited
by the sight of the couple who loved in front of her. Arlette, very gentle, loaned the
electric vibrator they had used during their night games. Helena, very impressed by the
size of the engine, didn't seem to have a past opportunity to use a kind of gadget. She
didn't need a very long time to adopt her new game companion. She inserted it slowly but
regularly in the pussy, up to the hilt and started on.
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
Her bum moved in all directions, she took one of her boobs with a shape of pear to
caress it and to suck the tit in the same time. She had some resources beyond suspicion.
The both lovers licked theirs lips to see her to contort hers body like this. Eric could not
resist more to the vision of the sex and the vibrator, to the feeling provoked by the
tongue of Arlette on his penis and to the one of his hand nosing about the bum of his
female lover.
He released a furnished salvo of cum which started a noisy orgasm of Helena. The
soubrette shamed almost to have joy and was ready to escape when she saw that she
pleased them. She was for ever thanking when they accepted to give her the electric
vibrator to allow her to continue, secretly or in front of her boy friend, to give herself
some delicious and intense vibrations. That would stay an unforgettable souvenir for the
three persons.
- Did you enjoy ? Arlette asked.
- And you ?
- Yes… she acknowledged.
- Me too !
- I want you !
- Come on under the shower ! he proposed, because he had noticed that the cabin was
spacious enough to enter both.
He drove her in the bathroom, prodigiously excited. The breakfast could wait, love not.
*
* *
The most exotic things of Venice are the gondolas. So, they had walked on the channels,
had kissed themselves under the bridge of the sighs as lovers, all the day long. They had
cleared the Rialto, had thrown some bread to the hundreds of pigeons of San-Marco
place and had visited the famous palace of Doges. They had eaten some Italian ices,
welcomed during this period of moderate climate of the Adriatic.
When the evening came, Arlette thought that they would have a dinner in the hotel which
restaurant was famous or that he would bring her to a typical place of the ancient city. It
didn't happen as she thought. They came back to the bedroom.
On the bed, Arlette discovered a dress of Indian princess made of light blue, yellow and
gold materials, with something to veil her face. Just near, the was a Maharaja dress with
the traditional red turban of the Sikhs.
- What a dress ! she said, full of admiration.
- Your evening dress for a fancy dress ball, he commented, confident to India, the theme
of theirs costumes, was a country Arlette liked. He didn't have forgotten an old remark,
keeping all information he could use to give her pleasure.
- A dress ball ? she said, just half-surprised because she didn't ignore that he disliked to
dance when she liked to live music on a dance floor.
- Yes. You will see ! he said simply.
18

With the masks off
He always liked so much mystery. She liked to build scenarios with him and he, never
satisfied with the acts he did, realized it straight ! She asked herself, while preparing
herself in the bathroom, where he would be able to go in the realization of dreams.
Sometimes, and especially for the last 24 hours, she asked herself if he didn't believe to be
Steven Spielberg, never stepping back in front of difficulties, falling into megalomania.
No. That was only what a man fallen in love should do to please to the woman of his
heart. When you knew the high level of the qualities Eric wanted for himself, a woman
could be suffocated by such an overflowing and a careless macho man could be
minimized.
Of course, as he always was rushing at in the life, he risked the accident, the skid, the
breaking of the motor. He risked to suffocate her female companion under a flood of
emotions too invading, too extreme. That was the risk. He didn't ignore it. He was
determined never to low his guard, to loose his vigilance. If his partner played the game,
accepted to live with a gentle mad man keeping his feet on earth (he needed it to organize
some surprises), that gave some "magic moments"…
That what she lived.
She almost had a choc when she discovered him with the dress and the turban. Except his
pale dye and the color too light of his eyes, he had style of a king of a far region, ready to
go for the Bengal tiger's hunting, on the back of a elephant.
- You are lovely ! they said together, proving one more time that they were on the same
wavelength.
They left their bedrooms and never stopped to attract the looks and the comments in the
corridor, in the lift and in the hall of the hotel. Were did he bring her ? How ? She knew
immediately how with seeing a coach put to two white stallions (not actors of X movies
but fidgeting horses), really flaming in their gold and red uniforms. A travel with a coach !
He was the only one able to imagine such a delirium. Arlette didn't stop to wag hers head
to convince herself more that he had been rocked to close the walls when he was a baby.
If he was on duty, as he liked to repeat, God had given him an imagination's credit
without any limit. A coach ! No word could get out of her throat blocked by the emotion.
How could a man be so rascal and so romantic ? Did it exist such a man mixing these
kinds apparently opposed to themselves ? Was he a sort of schizophrenic where two
characters cohabited with, where the duality lived forever ? Did he be created for her ?
Who was he, really ? The knew him hardly. She knew nobody in his entourage. He
showed her some photos of his children, of his parents but she never met them. Was it
some souvenirs made for his mission ?
She had gone to his home, in the Vienne region, the in Colombes. She only his female cat,
Isis. The cat, often associated to the daemon in the popular believes, wrongly. A cat
supposed to be wild with new persons, who had welcomed her with touching purring.
Sometimes, he seemed ready to reveal her a terrible secret. He stopped suddenly, staying
in the silence. Arlette had read "Dangerous mirages". Did Eric risk to go the hell if he
failed to make her happy, if he failed to make her understand that some gentle men could
exist, if she didn't build a new daily life ? Was it due to her imagination, enforced by the
doubts created by her lover ?
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
How could she know if he wasn't born the last year, just for her, if he didn't have been
"placed" on her way to help to return to life ? She would never know except if everything
happened as in the novel…
The only real thing, that was this sumptuous coach and its comfortable benches. They sat
in. The coachman, dressed as a lackey, cracked his whip over the horses and the convoy
moved off.
- You make me dream ! Arlette said.
- I hope that the following events will fill in you well !
The tears, of happiness, of joy, sent a trouble in the look of the princess. He saw her
affected to the tears for the first time. Too much, he did too much and this happiness she
always had some difficulties to believe, especially the first weeks of their story, this
happiness overflowed in her heart. He didn't know any limit, she cracked up. She cracked
because she always had been sure not to do to earn it. Despite these reproaches she gave
to herself in her mind, he stayed imperturbable. He carried on to offer all what he could,
such as nothing could cut into his will. Such as if nothing could prevent him to
accomplish his… mission. Arlette simply forgot that to accept, to receive with joy, with a
smile, that was already generous. She forgot that he was able to read her reactions in her
eyes. Now, it was not useful to be telepathic to know. The tears flowed slowly. He did a
sweet gesture to gather in the salted liquid. As the tear was on his finger, he made it slip
on his own lips. Then, he approached her, he enclosed her with a never ending precaution
and admired silently the lights of the town which streamed in front of them by the small
window. She couldn't avoid to close her eyes, really touched by his tenderness. He raised
up the colored and light cloth which hid her mouth. He went down to the throat and
forced her to put her head rear. They stayed like this, one against the other, to the end of
the travel.
*
* *
After a dinner at a buffet worthy of the Italian court, Arlette and Eric strolled about the
numerous guests of the fancy dress ball. A ball organized by Tours Operators, copied on
the balls made by the Venetian nobility in the past. To this one, there were authentic
aristocrats, professional dancers and guests who have paid for the evening.
Arlette could dance with experimented, gloved and masked riders. Eric met some people
while using English, German and Spanish in this cosmopolitan assembly. A bear, a horse
guard, a tsarina and a geisha for him, a Royal Navy officer, a Sioux Indian and a penguin
invited Arlette for waltzes or for tangos.
The place welcoming the ball was totally respectful of the Doges spirit. That was one of
their palaces which got numerous and giant rooms. The both lovers met again and
decided to addict themselves to tourism, to be curious. They climbed the huge staircase
leading to the floor. By common consent, they went to the summit of the palace. At the
top, that was a true maze of corridors which crossed themselves at several points. It was
enough to loose oneself. Arlette lost easily the sense of direction. Eric, this rascal, knew it
perfectly. He did all he could do to be lost.
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With the masks off
He invited her to enter in a room. It was night but the windows let enter the ashen
glimmer of the moon. She knew. She desired. As the number of the rooms of the palace
was countless, they didn't risk to be disturbed. He came behind her to be sure that she
was receptive. She moved her buttocks and verified, through the fine material of her
dress, that he bent his spongy muscle. He looked for her neck, to nibble it, to stroke it, to
smell it, to kiss it. His hands enclosed the boobs, playing with the small rings distended by
the desire. He pinched them pleasantly, forcing their erection. Then, the let the breast to
give some pleasure to the belly, the waist and the hips.
At this moment, they heard some noise. Was there somebody coming in that direction ?
No. They went next door. In the darkness, Eric guessed the presence of a door. It should
lead to the other room.
- Come on ! he whispered.
She followed him. In fact, the door led to a dark but glassy alcove.
- This is a two-way mirror, he said.
- What are they doing ?
- What do you think ?
- They seem to be ready to get entertainment !
- Do we stay ?
- Of course ! Arlette confessed, full of desire to be the witness of a ball of another kind.
There were two forty years old couples except one man which seemed fifteen years more
old. His hairs looked silvered and soft. They took their clothes off as fast as possible.
There was a beautiful threadlike blond hair girl, very tall, with style and she came with the
skinny fifty years old man. The other couple was totally different. The woman was a very
stimulating crossbreed woman, with close-cropped hairs and a body with rounded forms.
The man looked like a Greek wrestler. Stocky, very shaggy, very small, almost one
hundred and sixty centimeters. But what a spectacular surprise between his legs ! A long
and large sex, monstrous ! He seemed having been stung by a hornet, just at this place. A
thing of thirty centimeters, not less. The exotic kind reserved for special X videos. It was
more spectacular because the guy was small. This disproportion bewitched the both
voyeurs. They couldn't imagine how such an engine could introduce itself in the faintest
orifice without causing some lacerated wounds because its largeness was over one of
every sort of electric vibrator. This guy should represent the world reference, the
maximum use model.
At the beginning, the couples stayed united, side to site. Each man was busy with his
female companion. The crossbreed woman, despite a large mouth, got some difficulties to
swallow the engine of her husband. The blond hair woman had less difficulties, his
husband having some middle-averaged attributes. She was very active, sucking her
husband with violence, injuring him. From the place they were hidden, the both lovers
took totally advantage of the show and could hear all what they said. The preliminaries
were quiet short because were very excited by the building of the quartet. The blond
woman came to make an exhibition in front of the other man, refusing that her man was
the first to force her sex. She separated her legs very strongly, nearly to the square, to
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
receive the whole engine. The small crossbreed laid near her and drove one of her
beautiful boobs in the blond woman's mouth. The voyeurs understood the reason of this
gesture. It was made to choke back the screams of the burgess woman that they heard
screaming in her breast.
The crossbreed woman should know the result produced by the penetration of her
husband. This one, very sweet with his wife one minute before, had changed to a brute
beast thirsty of sex with this unconscious woman who provoked him. She wanted to be
taken without care and been wide opened, she had it ! Her husband was apart, on another
bed. He got masturbation consciously, slowly, without loosing the faintest crumb of what
he could compare with a rape. The blond woman split hers sides pain under the ram's
knocks of the small man. The crossbreed woman offered her sex to suck which helped
the woman to forget the pain. Like this, she could be really excited and could receive the
beast up to the hilt. Taken like this, he should push her uterus up to the intestines !
Curiously, the first woman who got absolute enjoyment was the brown hair girl, thanks to
the tongue on her pussy.
- End of the romantic part and beginning of the erotic episode ! Eric whispered.
After these words, he decided to verify if the show exhilarated Arlette. Without any
warning, he sunk the fingers in her panty, as a raider of the lost source. He got no
difficulties to find : she was so flooded that he needed to launch immediately the
emergency plan. In two times, three movements, he ran her through sweetly but steadily.
She held a cry of love. She didn't want to risk the end of the exchange show. She wanted
to see. She liked to see. She accomplished one of her fantasies with the man she loved
and who took care of her. She looked the small man with a mix of desire, attraction and
fear.
Suddenly, he changed of partner. He attended to his wife, letting the other one quivering.
Instead of the large way, he preferred the straight and narrow. He sodomized her by the
rear and she didn't move, she didn't say any word. The fifty years old man came closer to
admire the scene. He seemed to be passive and preferred to be a voyeur than an actor.
The blond woman, a little bit more aware, believed to be the victim of a mirage. How did
the other woman to shut up her pain ? She should have learnt self control. It was
impossible that she didn't feel anything. She wanted to clear the matter up.
- Look at her, this thirsty ! Eric uttered. She wants more. I wonder why her husband is
waiting for.
- He is a voyeur, isn't it ?
- He seems, said the man behind the two-way mirror, as he increased his speed in the
Arlette's belly.
The blond woman pushed the crossbreed and took her place. She received the Greek
stick directly in the pussy and bit her lips up to blood. However, she resisted. Her
husband delighted himself of the twisting which agitated her body. He accelerated the
rhythm and spouted in the mouth of the crossbreed girl. The wrestler ended also to let his
cum when the both voyeurs did the same thing behind the two-way window. Arlette
22

With the masks off
enjoyed a lot, probably as never she did before. It was so exciting ! She had envied the
women because they had been filled in as more as possible. But she was upset when she
saw the brown man falling on a sofa, the sex totally softheaded, while the man with the
gray hairs, despite his ejaculation, came in the buttocks of his wife, the way largely
opened. The crossbreed woman attended alternately to him and his wife. She let her
husband to his sad destiny, thinking that there was nothing more to do with him. She laid
under the other woman, top to bottom, to take advantage of this frenzied tongue which
gave her one first orgasm and to admire the small male sex, fast and active. She plunged a
finger in the anus of the man who appreciated and didn't last to fire a second salute that
the both women, very friends now, tailed voraciously.
The couples were formed again quickly, took the clothes up and let the creased materials
of the bedroom.
Arlette was in a semi-conscious state, surfeited of pleasure, of emotion and excitement.
And what about her burning sex, black and blue all over : it was without life…
- Did you enjoy the show ? her partner asked her.
- Yes !
- What a performance !
- You mean… You planned all ? You organized all of this ?
He didn't answer. He just smiled and raised up his eyebrows. It meant that he was the
only one who knew the answer and that he never will reveal it. He wanted to keep a drop
of mystery around him, as a magician who doesn't speak of his tricks. He had spoken of
"magic moments" and to stay magic, he didn't draw the curtains on the backstage.
This evening or the morning, they made love again, slowly, for a long time, as in Tunisia,
while remembering the best parts of the show. The went farther in the osmosis, further
than they never went.
*
* *
Sunday morning. It was almost ten hours. Arlette felt a sweet kiss but an unusual mouth.
She believed to dream. She could hear the water pouring. Her companion was not against
her, he was in the bathroom. But who ?…
She opened her yes. It was Helena, the young Italian girl.
- I wanted to thank you for the gadget. He gave me a lot of pleasure.
- So much the better ! Arlette said. You can keep it and use it everyday !
- It's really nice.
- You… You kissed me or I dreamed ?
- I kissed you, Helena said, become red on the cheeks.
- You desired it ?
- Very much !
Helena, not very fierce, ventured to steal another kiss. Then, she became more insisting
and searched the tongue. She took off her shoes and laid on Arlette to make her to
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Arlette’s saga, volume 1
vibrate. She wanted the contact of the sweet skin, so warm at the wake up. She gave
herself to Arlette, surprised but attracted. It was so new, so sweet, so melting. A pure
delight. The maidservant attended to the sex offered as a juicy apricot. She bit it with her
beautiful teeth with a non hidden pleasure. Paddling in the bath, the lover of the night
was far to imagine that his female companion ended an unbearable suspense : which taste
had a woman's tongue on her body ? What could feel a man when a woman attended to
him ?
Now, she knew and understood why he was sure that a woman was ten thousands times
more interesting than a man. A man was like a candy with frozen mint : a strong, tonic,
taste. A woman was like a candy with honey : suave, appeasing, full of sensations they will
remember a long time.
Sex against sex, after a mad 69, they ended to enjoy silently, Arlette sucking the tits of the
young woman, stroking her glittering hairs, the Italian girl masturbating the clitoris of
Arlette with a perfect fingering, touching lightly the small button with efficacy. As they
were ready to groan, they kissed themselves. Eric believed to listen a noise : he thought
that his partner wanted some lonely pleasure. So much the better ! It was not useful to
deprive oneself of pleasure and she would be ready to receive him. When he heard the
door closing itself, he couldn't know that his mistress had accomplished a fantasy.
When they left the hotel around twelve o'clock, with regrets but without bitterness,
Arlette carried off this small secrete with her. A very small secrete of a crazy weekend. A
small secrete that she would reveal to Eric, one day, maybe, to excite him more. He would
like to see such a sweetness, she was sure. He would hide himself and would not loose
any crumb. On the other hand, he would surely loose some drops of emotion.
So ended the erotic episode, the most erotic that she lived in a weekend. The return,
because they should return, on a regular airline, with very wise air hostesses and stewards,
would be obviously more ordinary. However, Arlette wasn't sure of that. With him,
everything could happen. With imagination, he could do all… That was the privilege of
the writer.. He did his mission so perfectly.
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*
* *

Thanks :
With the masks off
- To Tunisia, land of miracles.
- To the bus, means of transport (to the seventh heaven).
- To the Wright's brothers because they had the idea to fly like birds and they invented
airplanes.
- To men and women who have got the good idea to escape when they face minds
stronger than theirs.
- To hazard, luck and coincidences.
- To fantasy and fantasia.
- To the fakirs ! And I don’t' want to hear the fat woman saying that he wasn't worth
any nail !
- To France Telecom and Bouygues corporation for their telephonic furnishings.
- To www.youjusthavetotakeoffall.com which used our erotic conversations to make a
best-seller.
- To Marc Dorcel Video which lent us the videotape called "Where did you enter in, I
didn't see you coming !"
- To Viagra drug which doesn't cost any cent when you don't need it.
- To female nurses, wise and exemplary, under their white smocks, in all circumstances.
- To Arlette, the sweetest female nurse.
- To God, because he created jasmine, beaches of sand and the female nurses.
- To Peter, Paul, John, Jack, Matthew, Gabriel, Theresa, Blandine and all my pals in the
heaven who gave me some courage and supported me to obtain a new mission.
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