D'Orr's

Liz started trembling. She pulled her arms toward herself and wrapped her legs tighter around Michael. He pulled all the way out and gave a final thrust that was for her, not for him. Liz grabbed him with both arms; her legs wrapped around him and held him down while her hips started convulsing against him. He could feel the walls of her pussy convulsing, squeezing and releasing his cock. She wasn't a screamer, but he'd never had a woman who had such an outwardly physical orgasm. The sight and feel of her pleasure triggered Michael's reflexes, and he pulled out just one more time and thrust in, this time for him. As Liz felt him entering her again, this time she consciously squeezed, released, and as he came to a stop, she squeezed again, timing it perfectly with his ejaculation. She felt the first hot squirt of his come, the pulsing of his vein, and that triggered a second, less intense but not less satisfying, orgasm of her own.

Liz was spent. After they disentangled, she just lay there, while Michael lightly caressed her. She'd thoroughly enjoyed this. She got up and went into the bathroom. Michael watched her all the way, spent as well, but thoughtful, too. He still had this same pensive look on his face when she came back out. Liz noticed. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Oh no, quite the contrary. I've just never been with a woman who seemed to so thoroughly enjoy this."

"Already comparing me to other women?" Liz asked playfully. "Want me to compare you to other men?"

"I am sorry. It was just extremely enjoyable."

"Well, it was very enjoyable for me also. It had been some time," Liz said.

"I find that very hard to believe, a woman as attractive as you."

"I work too much, and don't get to meet many people outside my group. Those I do meet don't do much for me. I've never been able to get really involved anyway, which is a shame, because I really do enjoy this."

Michael looked straight at her, trying to see if there was anything hidden in these words. He didn't see anything.

Liz reached for her clothes and started getting dressed. "You must go?" Michael asked.

"I still must go to work in the morning. I know it's still a little early, but I might need an extra hour of rest after this little workout." Her pants on, but her shirt still unbuttoned, she leaned over the bed and kissed him. He reached up and cupped her breast. They kissed, then she leaned back to finish dressing. "Can I let myself out?"

"Yes, there is a button on the stand that opens the lock."

At the door, she turned to look back at him. "Thank you. I needed that." Michael smiled at her – he really did have a very nice smile, she thought.

Then she was gone. Michael waited for the sound of the door closing. He waited a minute longer, then got up and wrapped a towel around himself. He went to the phone and dialed a number. "She's left," was all he said.

In a couple minutes there was a knock on his door. Charlotte came in without waiting for his invitation. "Well?" she asked.

"She has skills. She enjoys it, and it shows." Michael continued, "Her tits are a little small, but she has a great body under those clothes. She wouldn't do for everyone, but the others? They will pay handsomely."

"Monsieur Richaud is coming in this week. Do you think she will be back?"

"Yes. She said it had been a long time. You know how it is, once you, how you say over here, 'get back in the saddle?'"

"Good. I will talk to Monsieur Richaud."

Liz woke late, having slept better than she had in months. She showered and dressed hurriedly, not wanting to be late for work. It was nice not having to share the bathroom now that her roommate had finally moved out. She liked her privacy. She grabbed her briefcase and headed out the door.

It wasn't until she was standing in the subway that she had a chance to reflect on what had happened last night. Unconsciously, she began recalling every little detail. Rocking back and forth with the motion of the car, she felt her panties moisten while she relived the experience. Michael had been very good. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had sex that left her feeling so good. Her stop came and her thoughts returned to work. She bounded up the stairs and down the street to her office building.

Her new assistant, Susan, who'd only worked for her for a couple weeks now, noticed the bounce in her step. "You're looking pretty lively this morning," she said with a wicked grin.

Liz, preferring to keep her private life private, said simply, "Good morning. We have a meeting with the partner and a client at nine. Are you ready?"

Susan was a little put off, but she was ready for the meeting. Her new boss was very smartintelligent, with street smarts that she hadn't noticed in the other associates and junior partners who hailed from schools with significantly morebetter reputations than Liz's state school. At times she seemed aloof, but at others Susan noticed a down-homeliness that made Liz very approachable. Definitely a study in contrasts, she thought.

Liz and Susan were the first into the conference room. They chose seats on either side of the center of the table, leaving the middle seat for the partner. Others started filing in. The week had begun. Any memories Liz had been harboring of Sunday night quickly disappeared.

Young lawyers don't get much free time, particularly women lawyers, who are driven that much more than the men, just to stay in the running for the coveted position of partner. Liz was no different, but having been singled out for the raise made her more confident. She adapted easily to delegating tasks and quickly learned which were best delegated and which were not. Still, the hours were long, and by late Thursday afternoon, she'd already logged over 60 hours. The one thing she was glad of, and that seemed unusual, was that her firm, from the top down, didn't seem pressed to work weekends unless it was absolutely necessary. No one ever turned down weekend work if it came up, but there wasn't the pressure to work weekends just because they were there, like other firms she knew of.

A friend of Liz's called her office. She said a small group was getting together for drinks around 7:00 tonight and invited Liz to go along. Liz hadn't been out with a group in a while and readily agreed. She was going to be done with work at a more reasonable hour, thanks in part to her new assistant. She got the name of the bar and jotted the address down.

A little before 7:00, Liz stuck her head in Susan's cubicle and told her she was leaving. "Do you have any questions before I go?"

"Not right now, but I might in the morning," Susan replied.

"Good. See me early and we'll map out some time."

Liz left the building, looking forward to a night out. The place she was to meet the group was not too far away, so she elected to walk rather than get a cab. She felt the pressures of the office lift as she walked. The further she got from the building, the more relaxed she felt. Her pace quickened, and her steps were lighter. She reached the bar and pushed her way through the crowd, quickly finding her friends. Liz bought a round for the group and joined the conversation. There were the usual stories of feats of bravery exercised against bosses, the bitching about the hours and the trials and tribulations of roommates. After her second drink Liz started looking around, paying less attention to the group. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but it no longer involved this group. She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, she made her excuses and left the bar amid some friendly kidding about her early departure.

Once on the street, Liz breathed easier. She like the socializing, but didn't care for the elbow-to-elbow crowds in the city's bar scene. She walked for several blocks before turning toward the street and hailing a cab. She gave the driver directions to her apartment and settled back into the seat, her long legs somewhat cramped in the small space in back.

The cab approached the intersection and Liz already had her money out. She gave him the bills and got out at the corner, still feeling like a little company. She looked back the half block toward her apartment, and then turned the other way and toward the green awning of her new "local." It wasn't until she was several steps on her way that she remembered what had transpired there just last Sunday. She hesitated, not wanting to run into Michael so soon afterwards. She stopped, looked back in the direction she had come from, and then continued on. They hadn't exchanged phone numbers, nor was she interested. He had been very good, perhaps the best she'd ever had in bed, but she was just not ready to commit to anything more than what they'd had. She approached the awning, slowing her steps. She looked up to see if she could see him at his post by the front door. She saw nothing, which she thought a little unusual. Slowly she climbed the stairs to the door. She pulled on the door, but it was locked again. She hesitated before ringing the buzzer. When she did, it was Charlotte who came to the door.

"Hello, Liz! Welcome back! Michael said you'd stopped by for a drink Sunday. I'm sorry I missed you, but I usually don't work on Sunday."

Liz wondered if Michael had said anything else, but Charlotte didn't appear to be hiding any secret knowledge, so she let it pass. Liz waited while Charlotte closed the door, and then followed her into the bar area, glancing down the front hall toward the room where she'd…. Charlotte interrupted her thoughts. "You actually have some company at the bar tonight. Monsieur. Richaud is one of our regular guests."

Liz's thoughts remained with what had transpired several nights ago. For a moment, she was back in that room with her legs wrapped around Michael, his cock deep inside her, and she felt the outer lips of her pussy slide together, lubricated by the slick fluid that had started forming inside her.

She shook the image from her head and entered the bar behind Charlotte. Liz noticed two women with very blonde hair sitting together at one of the small tables at the back of the room. She turned as Charlotte started to introduce her to M. Richaud. When Liz first looked at him, she was a little stunned. He was tall, and blonde, with friendly sea-green eyes. Liz began to wonder if they only let attractive people into this place. She took a seat at the bar, leaving one between herself and Jean, as he had insisted she call him.

Liz asked for a gin and tonic, and Charlotte mixed it for her, placing the drink on the bar. Liz put on her game face and asked as nonchalantly as she could, "So, where is Michael tonight?"

"He had some things to take care of this afternoon, so I gave him the rest of the day off," Charlotte said. Liz was relieved.

Charlotte excused herself for a moment, and Liz finally felt able to turn her attention to Jean Richaud. He was not unlike Michael, no attitude she could detect, and with a European build that she found alluring. She wondered if he too was uncircumcised, then quickly dismissed the thought. "That," she thought, "is getting a little ahead of things."

Jean was easy to converse with, asking more about her than talking about himself. He had an air of confidence that made Liz feel very comfortable. She abhorred insecure men, and unfortunately, this town was full of them. She wondered if this confidence was something uniquely French, or if it was caused by wealth, or something else. "American men could sure learn a thing or two from this pair."

"What was that?" Jean asked. Liz hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud, and was embarrassed. Jean was the one who moved, closing the distance between them by one barstool. Liz looked up from her drink.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud." She felt she had just lost the upper hand and didn't have much more to add. She hoped Charlotte would return right now to break the awkward silence, but Charlotte didn't show up to bail her out. Liz got up and went around the bar. "Can I get you another drink?"

Jean asked for another glass of red wine, while Liz made herself another gin and tonic. After that last gaffe, she needed it. Something sparked, and she looked up at him. He was already looking at her. "You are an attractive and interesting woman," he said.

Still no Charlotte to bail her out, to keep her from doing what she knew she was going to do next. The two women at the back of the room had left. It was just Jean and Liz. She walked back around the bar and came up behind him. She pressed her breasts into his shoulder blades, reached around him with her arms to his legs, and caressed them all the way up to his belt line. She pressed her lips against his neck, and he reached behind himself with both arms, pulling her waist closer to him. He said simply, "I am a guest here tonight. Would you like to be my guest?"

Liz pulled back and came around to stand in front of him. "Yes, I would like that." she murmured. She reached for her drink and picked up her briefcase. Jean led the way to the front hall. As they approached it, Charlotte came back into the bar just in time to see them walking out together. Liz caught Charlotte's smug little smile and wondered again if Michael had told her anything. Jean led the way up the stairs and at the top of the second landing, turned toward the front of building. There were just three doors on this floor. He stopped in front of the second door on the right, opened it and let Liz enter first. Less than one week and she'd been in two of the rooms of this "private" hotel. She smiled to herself at the wonders of the city.

Liz walked around the spacious room, touching the edges of the antiques that furnished it. Jean stood watching her, admiring the tightness of her skirt at the top of her hips, and the way it fell to loosely outline her shape. She set her briefcase down and turned toward him. He had a smile on his face as he walked toward her. When they met, Liz ran her hands up his belly to his chest, then circled the back of his neck and brought his face down to hers. She kissed him deeply on the mouth, and he returned the kiss.

Without saying a word, she began unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the cuffs, and then working her way down from the neck. When she got to the fourth button, she reached inside the shirt and rubbed his chest. He had little hair, but was well developed – unusual for a Frenchman. She continued unbuttoning his shirt while he just held on to her waist, leaning back to give her room to complete her task. When she got to the beltline, she pulled his shirt out of his pants and finished undoing the rest of the buttons. Again running her hands up over his chest, she moved them up over his shoulders and slid his shirt off him.

Then it was Jean's turn. First he slid her suit jacket off and draped it over a chair. He turned his attention to her top, which had concealed buttons that were a trifle more difficult to undo than his. When he reached the top of her skirt, he did the same as she had – he simply pulled it up and out. There were no more buttons. He spread the shirt apart and pushed it off her shoulders. Still, neither had uttered a word.

Jean held her at her waist and slid his hands up to the front clasp of her bra. With two fingers he undid the clasp, and the bra parted in the middle. Jean was immediately taken by the shape of her breasts and their small, pink nipples. With both hands, he slid each side of her bra aside to fully uncover her breasts. When he leaned forward to kiss them, Liz stood on tiptoes, arching her back to meet his lips with her nipples.

Jean stepped back and Liz noticed a dark spot on the front of his light olive pants. She reached for his belt and pulled him a little closer, working the buckle of his pants with her hand. She let the ends flop to each side, and stroked him through his pants. Reaching over the top of his waistband, her fingers quickly found his hardened cock inside. With her thumb she rubbed the precum around the head. She pulled her hand out and undid the top of his pants, pulling his zipper down in one motion. His loose-fitting pants fell to the floor. Liz hooked her fingers in his underwear and pulled them to the floor. Jean stepped out of the puddle of clothing and lifted Liz back up. He reached behind her and found the clasp and zipper to her skirt. Jean undid both and slid the top of her skirt down over her hips, Liz wriggling a little to help him.

Jean stood back to admire the languid beauty in front of him, standing there in just her lace bikini panties and dark, thigh-high stockings. Kneeling in front of her, he first slid her left stocking down her leg, steadying her while she lifted her foot out of the stocking. He did the same for the right, and again turned to face her, his eyes level with the top of her panties. He leaned forward and, with his tongue, traced a line across the waistband. When he got to the side, he kept tracing the line of her underwear, going back toward her belly button, but following the lower elastic across the top of her thigh. As he got to the center, Liz pressed against him, but Jean pulled back. He reached forward and in one motion pulled her panties down to her ankles.

Jean stood up, grasped Liz's hand and led her to the bed. Once there, he reversed their positions and backed her up to the edge. He came up to her and, holding her by the back of her neck and her lower back, he lowered her onto the bed. As he went to kneel by the side of the bed, Liz made a move to scoot further onto the bed, but Jean stopped her by grabbing the top of her leg. He pulled her back toward the edge and placed a kiss on her knee. With one arm, she reached up and grabbed a couple of the pillows from the head of the bed. One she placed under her head and the other she gave to Jean. She arched her back and he slid it under the small of her back. He liked that she knew what pleased her, and wasn't afraid to communicate it, even though still no words had been spoken.

Still kneeling on the floor, Jean rubbed the inside of each of her thighs with his hands, up over her hips and back down to where her legs met. He spread her legs and then he started kissing up the inside of her thigh. As he reached the top, he gently, with just his fingers, spread her pussy lips. Liz lifted off the pillow, trying to reach him with the source of the musky woman-scent that emanated from her. Jean, wanting to tease her a little more, leaned forward and kissed her mons, intentionally avoiding the place she wanted him to kiss, to lick, to suckle. She wanted desperately to pull his head into her pussy, to feel his lips part hers and his tongue delve as deeply into her as it could. Liz held back, the anticipation building inside of her, her heart pounding in her chest and her nipples straining as though to break through her skin. Her pussy juices were flowing freely, and she could already feel them running down the crack of her ass.

Jean traced the outline of her slightly trimmed pubic hair with his tongue, across the top toward the left, following the angle down toward the center of her pussy. Liz gasped as he approached her parted lips. He slowly kept working his way down, running his tongue over her fleshy, pouting outer lips, pausing to take part of one in his mouth and roll it around. He moved down a little, and, starting at her puckered bud, ran his tongue all the way up the crack of her pussy, pausing at her engorged clit to give it a little extra attention. Liz pushed against him the entire length of his tongue's journey. He returned to the dark pink slit glowing at him in its wetness and slowly began a rhythm with his tongue, his shoulders underneath her legs to make her more accessible. In, up, and back along one side, and then coming back along the other side. Liz pressed into the pillow under her back, hoping to draw him to her clit. She'd had enough. She needed more.