An American Bimbo In Paris

"No teasing," Fleur warned playfully. "Be a good girl."

That made Zoe whimper, and she immediately obeyed. Again, she began slowly, drawing her well-practiced tongue along Fleur's lips in long, slow strokes, feeling and tasting how wet her girlfriend already was. Fleur moaned gratefully, and took a firmer grip on her hair. Clearly, she was in an impatient mood. Zoe didn't mind that one bit; she loved to please. She swiftly turned her attention to Fleur's clit, lapping at it with her tongue in a way she just knew would send Fleur wild.

"Mmmff," Fleur moaned again. "God. Zoe, you might be a ditz, but you're so good with your tongue."

"Thank you," Zoe replied breathily, her voice muffled. She knew she couldn't let up for one moment, or else Fleur would get impatient with her again. Admittedly, it was tempting, but Zoe's urge to obey won out.

Fleur's cries of pleasure only grew louder as Zoe pushed her tongue inside her girlfriend. With Fleur's free hand, she gripped desperately at the bedsheets, starting to writhe uncontrollably at the feeling of Zoe's tongue reaching her most sensitive places. Zoe was grinning wildly, her face drenched with Fleur's wetness. She loved how good she could make Fleur feel. She was feeling good too, and reached down to press needily against her own cunt through her clothes. Fleur's pleasure came first, but she knew Fleur enjoyed seeing what a slut Zoe was for having her face fucked.

"Fuck," Fleur panted, already riding the wave of her first orgasm as she saw Zoe slip a hand into her panties to start finger-fucking herself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Zoe moaned too as she felt Fleur's thighs clamp around his head, as her girlfriend came. She giggled happily, her heavy breathing only adding to her girlfriend's breathing. She was so grateful for everything. This was something she was truly good at. And there was nowhere she'd rather have been.

***

Zoe hummed happily as she busied herself with cleaning her and Fleur's apartment. She was two months into her new job as a barista in Paris, and while she couldn't have been happier with it, she was also keen to make the most of a day off such as today. To her, that meant cleaning and cooking, to make sure everything would be perfect when Fleur came home.

Life was good. She had a comfy apartment, a girlfriend who loved her, and a job that suited her. She might not have been the smartest girl around, but she was more than capable of taking orders and making coffee, and her bubbly, cheerful, carefree personality made her a hit with the customers. Zoe was grateful for all of it. Not everyone found their true place in life, but she'd surely found hers.

Idly, Zoe opened the bottom draw of Fleur's desk. She hadn't cleaned it yet, and figured it was probably full of dust or junk. In fact, she found something quite different: a set of documents, neatly stacked together in a plastic folder. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it. Inside, she found, among other things, a plane ticket and an American passport. Her brow furrowed. Why would Fleur have an American passport?

Opening it, Zoe leafed through until she found a page with a photograph. The woman looked like her. Uncannily like her. The face was the same; all except for the eyes. Those were weary and full of stress, and shockingly intelligent. Nothing like Zoe's at all. Still, the woman in the photograph could have passed for her twin. Zoe read the name. 'Lauren'. It felt like it should have meant something to her, but it didn't.

Zoe stood there for a moment, tapping her chin with a finger, wondering why Fleur would have something so strange hidden away in her desk. But after just a few moments, she giggled, defeated, and carefully put it back just as she'd found it.

Whatever it was, it was clearly nothing to do with her.