At the Summit Ch. 04

Contributed by Richard Williams for the enjoyment of Literotica's readers. This fictional story is copyrighted and may only be used for your personal pleasure. It may not be sold, distributed, or posted on another website without the author's permission.

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AT THE SUMMIT

by Prof. Richard W.

(formerly of the University of ____________)

Part 4

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1997 - Before the Summit

Dean looked directly at Laetitia. He somehow expected a confrontation, he was becoming excited himself-- both intellectually and sexually. He would prove to her by this latest scene that she was wrong.

His eyes locked on hers. She was looking into his, not at him. She took his hand and held it as she spoke, as if to maintain contact with him, no matter how he took her words.

Her blue eyes never turned away from him, as she patiently explained to him that when the young couples' gaze had merged, and when the dark-haired woman had measured her lover's corneas, that without plan, warm scents, wafting "pheromones sexuelles" had emerged from her to signal her readiness.

She said this slowly, as if to make sure that her English did not betray her, but she slipped into more French phrases and syntax as she spoke to him. Somehow she was enjoying this scene on a physical level, and was enjoying challenging him on an intellectual level.

Dean, in turn, tried to reason with her, said that she was taking some animal studies too far. But he could not get the words out at his usual pace. It was like speaking with cottonballs in his mouth. His mind was too full of Laetitia.

"It's very warm now," she said as an aside. "The sun is so strong here at this altitude." This was offered as an explanation as she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

"It's making me uncomfortable now, too." Dean noticed that though the open collar maintained a standard of decency, he still found the additional visible curve radius to be attractive.

"They're gone!" Laetitia suddenly became aware of who was no longer there.

Dean spotted them first. Far up the trail, the young Latin lovers were hurrying along, although once they stopped to embrace, kiss, pet, and then rush on.

"I hope that they have a nice place to go to," Laetitia said, her sisterly side showing again.

"I'm not sure if it will matter! They will find a place," Dean chuckled. "And speaking of places, I think we should move along to another place, also."

"Oh? I don't know if I am ready to be monitored at the hotel again." Laetitia winced. Dean grinned.

"I made arrangements with friends for us to stop by their place. It's not very far from here." He motioned up the hill.

They strolled up quiet streets of brick Victorian homes, past old cars which lined the curbs, and dogs which barked at them from fenced yards. As they walked, their conversation continued into deeper, more intimate waters. Finally, they reached what once must have been a mansion, now undergoing restoration. Old bricks were piled in the yard and wooden moldings were heaped in a corner.

Laetitia looked nervously around, but no growling mastiff emerged as they opened the rusty gate. Its ornate hinges screeched.

The mechanical doorbell worked, and it was answered by a thirtyish woman who wore a painter's smock. The name "Deborah" was embroidered on it. Without surprise, she whisked the unusual couple up the stairs into a wood-paneled entry hall and then up a grand staircase. To Laetitia's amazement, it was a far different scene than the mess outside indicated.

"We're converting this to a bed & breakfast. As you can see, we've pretty well got the upper floor complete. The attic needs some renovations and you saw that the main floor needs a lot of work yet." Deborah brushed with the back of her hand at a drop of sweat that ran into her eyes from her bangs.

"Do you live here?" Laetitia asked.

"Yes, my girlfriend Val and I live in the old maids' quarters in the attic." She laughed to emphasize the joke, and a puzzled look crossed Laetitia's face.

"We're a couple of old maids," the woman teased. The pun had missed Laetitia, Dean realized. Every now and then there was a hole in her otherwise excellent grasp of English.

"We'll have dinner here," Dean told his French pupil. It was in an exclusive tone. Laetitia realized it was already arranged.

"But I should inform Maman!"

"I think that with the telephone monitoring, we'd better rely on the "old maids" to take care of that." The woman in the smock nodded agreement.

"You have friends in more places than you know of tonight. Your cause is ours, too." Deborah said this simply, avoiding the potential for theatre.

"Supper will come in a little while. In the meantime, there is some wine for you on the buffet in the room," she continued. "And there are bathrobes around back of that door."

"I'll ask Val to knock before she comes in with your supper!" She smiled and winked. It was a smile that conveyed deep understanding. The door closed solidly.

Laetitia looked around, examining details of the elegantly furnished suite.

"I did not expect this," she finally said. She looked in awe at the grand canopied bed. Gauze curtains hung down from its superstructure. One could disappear into the lacy textures of the decorative pillow covers. The posts were carved with intricate heavily-fruited grapevines. Laetitia ran her hand cautiously over their smooth luxuries as she remembered girlish fantasies of taking her Prince Charming into such a palace bed.

A full-length mirror adorned one wall, and it was surrounded by similar grapevine carvings. Deep purple wall paper trip circled the top of the walls, carrying gold tracings up and over the doors. The hardwood floor glistened between the throw rugs - rugs which seemed to invite bare toes.

The interest in decorative arts extended to the bookshelf. There were books and magazines from both the U.S. and overseas. It was easy to see what the owners' interests were. Laetitia was like a kid in a candy shop, Dean observed, as she traced a finger across the titles.

"Here is one in French!" she exclaimed, holding up a back issue of Beaux Arts. She flipped it open-- "Cristo wrapping the Reichstag! By Karen Rudolph. I know someone in Paris who knows this writer. She writes from there."

"This part of America is famous for its scenery, but they're just trying to show you that they're hooked up to the world, too." Dean laughed.

Stepping to the windows, they looked down together on a garden below, as well as on even more neat piles of construction material. To the west, mountain majesties showed through the frilly decolletage of treetops. Laetitia drew in her breath and took Dean's hand.

"As I said, I did not expect this." She shuddered violently.

"What's the matter?" Dean queried.

"With all your experience, perhaps you are not afraid. But that was the fear flowing out of me. I am not used to being on the edge of things that I do not understand, the way you are!"

Dean nodded, and took her in his arms.

"But you say that the fear left you?"

"Yes. I have not felt so safe in a long time. Since this afternoon I've begun to feel safer."

"You thought that no one cared about your mother and you?"

"Perhaps that is it." She nestled into his embrace, and her warmth filled him with crazy thoughts. He inclined his head closer to her, closer to her lips.

There was a knock on the door. Dinner was served!

The meal was delivered by Val, the smock woman's partner. She smartly wheeled in a little trolley with covered dishes, and a variety of condiments.

"I hope you don't mind that we're practicing on you," she said with a wicked grin and a tone that indicated that she had already decided that they would not mind - or else. "We aren't in full operation yet, of course." She looked at both of them, but eyed Laetitia with direct curiousity while she set about laying out the supper on a small table by the window. Dean caught himself wondering what "full operation" with Val would be like.

"Enjoy...." she said, and left the room. Dean noticed that that the dark-skinned 5' 2" dynamo said the cliche' parting line with a sexier tone than necessary for food service.

The multitude of cold cuts, cheeses, and fruits met both of their interests and needs. They laughingly toasted each other's countries in banquet style, and then laughed harder as they toasted the Lapinistes for bringing them together. They toasted Love and Romance, and Dean in particular toasted Laetitia's self-improvement goals.

As the evening moved on, and as the sun completed its task of gilding the Front Range backdrop, they found themselves pausing for periods of unofficial silence. Dean looked into Laetitia's eyes once again, deeper it seemed this time. Was she accepting the concepts which he had raised? Was she turning them over in that brilliant mind and making them her own? He wondered. Finally, the conversation trailed to a halt.

They sat looking at each other in silence for an eternity. Outside, the city was barely there. Crickets chirped sporadically below the windows. Without forethought, they leaned closer toward each other across the table. At the same moment, both suddenly became conscious of their bodies' subconscious preparations, and of their own participation in the process that Dean had pooh-poohed.

They grinned sheepishly at each other.

"Excuse me for a few minutes." Laetitia finally broke the silence with those shyly presented words. Dean nodded. He still was telling himself that she might mean just to talk some more when she returned from the bathroom.

"Oh!" She stopped in the doorframe, and turned back to him with a pixy grin. "I will have something with me that you dearly want when I return."

He was not going to jump to any conclusions, he told himself sternly. In support of that, he crossed his legs to try to keep his incipient erection from getting out of control and taking over.

The sun blinked out behind the mountains, leaving a pale pink-gold glow in its place. He listened to faint noises from the bathroom, unable to guess. The tension, he admitted, was worse than when he was dealing with the shadows who had tailed them.

The bathroom door opened.

To Dean, it was as if a new being was emerging. Laetitia was still wearing her blouse, but now it was no longer tied above the waist-- it was open, resting on her unfettered breasts. As she walked boldly across the room, the air swept it back, showing Dean all of her curves.

She was wearing a style of panties that he had never seen before, and the Tanga accented her pink shape with a white French Curve that was perfectly drawn. It swept across her hips, was interrupted by an area of cross-hatched Spandex mesh, and then continued down to a graceful rise between her thighs.

She stepped lightly on bare feet from throw rug to throw rug.

"A nymph floating from lily pad to lily pad across a pond," Dean caught himself intellectualizing.

In her hands, yes, Dean had to refocus on the fact that she carried something in her hands, were two shiny green egg-shaped objects. She came close to him and opened out her hands so that he could see them. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Des Belles Chinoise" -- that's what these are, she whispered close to him. "Bells of the Chinese."

"You've been carrying those all this time in your..." Dean recognized what they were and whistled aloud in amazement. Laetitia smiled and looked down modestly.

"I have been practicing with them as part of my education," she stated. "I can assure you that the results are very interesting to me, and perhaps will be to you. They certainly make a long airplane journey more pleasurable."

Dean's system churned with excitement as this information registered with his brain. Suddenly, he could picture her under a blanket in the airliner, slipping the practice jades into her vagina, testing out, strengthening her female abilities, while some businessman next her tapped away on his laptop. How much had she already brought herself to a state of readiness? His penis lurched forward in his briefs and tangled itself before he could realize that it was happening. His mind was in too many places at once.

"I think you should look closer at these," she was whispering again. "They are more interesting than even you think!"

Dean forced himself to ignore her breasts, which were radiating warmth close to him as she spoke, and looked at the jade "eggs." At first he thought that the ridges and fine lines that covered them were meant to further stimulate the wearer (the wearer? he wondered, the user? the holder? what did one call the woman who enjoyed these?). But then he looked even closer.

The fine lines were some kind of code. The puzzle of ideas now came tumbling out of his head and fell into place. This was the key to coding and decoding messages for the covert exchange between his agency and the anti-Lapiniste faction in Laetitia's mother's agency. Now he understood why Laetitia seemed so blase' about the search of her room by their opponents.

And all the attention being paid to her mother, Michelle, was missing the point! While they were tracking her, and he was waiting for her to give him the code, Laetitia was quietly enjoying her nascent ability to control her own pleasure, quietly preparing to control the performance of the next man she would choose.

And then another thought brought Dean back to the present.

"And did your mother suggest this method?" he said, with raised eyebrows.

"For some reason, she was confident that eventually you would find them. Of course, I could have given them to you at some convenient time."

"And now is convenient?" Dean half-smiled.

"Let me suggest that it would be inconvenient for me to do otherwise now," she grinned archly.

"You would like to continue your lessons, then?" Dean looked at her carefully.

Her only immediate answer was to smile. Setting aside the twin jades on the bedstand, her hands were free to reach for his shirt buttons. Deftly touched, they came open and her hands were at his waist to pull the shirttails free. Hungrily, she grabbed at his undershirt and it was off quickly, too.

Her warmth surrounded him invitingly; they embraced and her grin changed to a look of anticipation as his arms brought her waist against his. Burning heat surrounded him as their embrace brought their covered sex together. His penis surged with energy as her ready femininity nuzzled it through the cloth. Dean thought of the Chinese balls she had carried within herself, and could only wonder at the sensations she might have experienced, particularly while they had watched the Hispanic couple earlier.

Laetitia pulled slightly away from him.

"Perhaps we should put those balls somewhere discrete," she whispered to him. The fear of being constantly monitored had not left her completely. The English pun was lost on her, Dean reflected, as he chose not to ask her which balls she meant.

"You're right.... I'm to turn the code key or keys over to Val..." he was thinking out loud "...and she'll be rather amazed to find out what the keys are." He motioned for Laetitia to go to the bed, and went to a call bell by the door.

He watched Laetitia struggle up onto the high bed. Her rear end looked incredibly cute in those intriguing Tanga outlines.

He was impatient immediately, but in what only was a short time, both Val and Deborah were at the door. Val's black complexion was set off by her teal slacks and a powder blue sweater. Deborah had changed from her smock to a soft pink blouse and dark slacks. The beauty of their contrasting coloring suddenly came to his attention. Dean looked about, and realized that together with Laetitia, sexual energy crackled through the room now, uniting the four of them in a bond that could not be explained.

It was odd, he thought, the two women at the door had the look of being prepared for a gentleman caller. Whatever their reason, he found the entire scene rather exciting.

Dean reached out his hand with the code-bearing sex charms.

Val looked the shirtless Dean up and down, without comment. Deborah looked past them and noted Laetitia peaking out of the curtains from the canopied bed.

"So you find the room to your satisfaction," Val murmured teasingly.

"Or your satisfaction to your room?!" Deborah offered brightly.

"Cut it out you two!" Dean bantered good-naturedly. He dropped to serious tones, briefly explaining what he was handing them, and was not surprised by their reactions.

Both of the women looked past him at Laetitia with new interest.

"I'm impressed!" Deborah said with a tone of pleasure in the words. She and Val waved to the now blushing Laetitia, and closed the door. The blushing continued, but slowly she raised her head, her heart filling with pride at the recognition by her sisters for her bravery, and her libido intensifying as she understood that they approved, and perhaps envied her the hours to come.

Dean bolted the door. The old-fashioned lock clicked authoritatively.

Laetitia peeked out of the curtains again, and watched him undress. He hung his pants carefully over a valet chair. She was pleased to note that time had been kind to his figure. Muscles rippled across his reasonably flat stomach as he bent to untie his shoes. His arms showed easy strength as he moved the heavy valet chair slightly out of the way.

As Dean learned later in their discussions, she had a friend at school who had taken a middle-aged lover, a business executive who liked to help her with her Economics homework in the nude. Her friend found the older man to be eccentric, set in his ways-- and then she had confessed that she had met younger men who were that way, too. She had pumped her friend with questions when she began her project of improving her sex life, but her friend could offer few such comparisons.

"Whatever," she had told Laetitia with a shrug, "my grades are improving.

Dean set his wristwatch on the valet chair.

Now Dean walked toward her, wearing only his blue cotton briefs. She had never experienced this intensity of feeling before. With her senses so aroused, she felt that she was watching every muscle in his body in motion toward her. His thighs were strong-looking, but not overtly muscular. His manhood was outlined in stressed cloth, but was still disguised enough to leave her guessing as to details, as on some classic statues. He was not a hairy man, but his body hair caught the remaining sunset light in an attractive way. It gave him a faint glow.

He pulled back the curtain and swung onto the bed. Laetitia had found that she had to hoist herself onto it. Dean was just the right height, as if the bed had been built to increase her sensation that she was confronting barely controlled power.

She stretched out on the bed, and looked at the secret world within the canopy. A sturdy oil lamp was fastened to the bed post at the head of the bed, and its small light danced brightly. Their surroundings of floral ornamentation glowed golden in its beams. Embroidered hummingbirds darted through the colors of a garden. Unicorns romped on a distant field. Without a a direct hint of sex, the decor embraced them with its sensuality, made them feel a part of Nature's plan.

Outside the curtain, the world was now a gauzily-hidden place. This was reality, themselves inside the curtain. The university, the Lepenistes, the couples in the park today, and even their families faded into that outer world. The neighborhood was quiet, but more so in this cushioned space. A silken cord which for some reason hung from the canopy grazed her face, like a vine in Eden's lush gardens.

"Ever since I began to think about this project," she still used that word, "I wondered if one day I would make love in such a setting. I never dreamed that it would be as part of my projet, though!" She was switching back and forth into French.