Le Français Pt. 05

"Good evening, dear," Felicity said as he walked down the hall into the open area of the lower level of his home. She was lounging over in the sitting area, just closing a thick text of some sort as she sat up and smiled at him.

"Bonsoir, Felicity," Marc said, shrugging out of his suit coat. Felicity quickly stood and came to him, taking the coat before he could hang it on the back of the chair himself so she could fold it neatly. He smiled at the little gesture, taking her chin between his finger and thumb and pulling into a kiss that she willingly deepened as she smiled against his lips. She was dressed in a silky, pearl-coloured blouse that was already unbuttoned halfway, showing off the bustier he'd bought her the previous year. It was a beautiful thing, likely meant to be wedding lingerie for a bride, but then what was the point of lingerie purchased for just one night?

"Something is on your mind," Felicity said as the kiss ended. She had her hands flat on his chest, looking up at him with those baby-blue eyes of hers.

"You know me well,ma petite fée," he sighed.

"Come," she said, taking his hand and leading him over to his favourite seat. She quickly, efficiently, undid his belt and hung it around her neck, then undid his slacks and dropped to her knees, pulling off his briefs along with his pants. She folded both neatly and set them aside as Marc sat, and then she looped his belt through itself and tightened it around her neck, leaning forward to press her bosom to his knees as she offered him the long end of the belt like a leash.

"Not that," he said, frowning a little as he shook his head. He gently pulled the belt loose and raised it over her head before cupping her cheek and brushing his thumb over her cheek. "I don't think tonight is a night that we'll play like that."

She smiled softly, and Marc thought he saw a flicker of sadness in it, or maybe it was compassion. "Then, my dear, allow me to help you reach clarity." She sat forward and soon her lips were around his shaft, and Marc was groaning as Felicity lovingly bathed his cock with her lips and tongue. She was slow and smooth, but as the saying went, 'slow is smooth and smooth is fast.' It didn't take long for her to bring his orgasm to the fore, and she kept him there for a few minutes on purpose, not tipping him over until the pressure had built enough that he put a hand into her hair. Then, with a smile as she looked up at him, she tipped him over and slurped up every ounce of cum that he gave her.

When he was finished, Felicity quickly cleaned him again with her mouth before standing and moving to the kitchen. First she rinsed her mouth - something that, in the passion of the moment, Marc didn't always care about, but appreciated now - and then fetched down a wine glass and the latest bottle he had opened. She returned with it, handing him the wine, and then slid onto his lap and curled up with her head resting on his shoulder. Her cleavage was well within view, a tantalising sight that she knew she was providing, but wasn't the point.

"Talk to me, Marc," she said softly.

Marc, for his part, took a sip of the wine and hummed softly in his chest as he revelled in the warmth of her on him, the flavours in his mouth, and the light-headed clarity in his mind. When he swallowed he was tempted to take another sip, but he wasn't one to avoid uncomfortable topics for himself.

"Astrid has done something for me," he said. "A favour, that has to do with our dear Detective. Instead of her usual compensation, she's asked to spend a night with us. Like last time."

Marc could feel the hesitation in Felicity's body. Not fear, or panic. Just hesitation. "I assume that you have reservations, if you aren't simply ordering me to do it," she said.

"Many," Marc admitted. "But they boil down to a few. Last time we tried this, it was a bit much. For both of us. And I certainly don't like not having total control of our games. I don't like seeing you in distress and not being the immediate relief."

"Oh, Marc," Felicity said, stroking his chest through his dress shirt. "I understand. I trust you."

"And I appreciate that trust immensely,ma petite fée," Marc said. "Another of my reservations is that I'm asking you to do this for the sake of the Detective and my game with her. You have no reason to help with that."

"Marc, please," Felicity said, shifting slightly to sit higher and look at him more on an even plane. "Is the information that Mistress Astrid has going to help the Detective with her real work?"

"Likely," Marc said.

"Then it isn't for the game," Felicity said. "Sheis a policewoman. If it took Mistress Astrid to get the information, then it must be important and difficult to procure. Does the Detective know?"

"Not about this," Marc said. "I don't-"

"Shhh," Felicity hushed him. "I appreciate that you are worried for me, Marc. And that you respect me. I'll do it as long as you are there too. I wouldn't spend time with her alone, but with you there I trust it will be fun, even if we push my limits again."

Marc was surprised to find a denial on his lips. A declaration that he was thankful for her willingness, but that they wouldn't do it. That he wouldn't share her with Astrid. He felt... was it jealousy? Was he possessive of his escort? The arrangement was specifically designed to be free of that, and until this choice, he'd never felt particularly possessive of her.

Years together, however... he was invested in her, he realised. Invested in what they had built between them. His mind went back to the first day he'd met the Detective, and his admission that if hewere to suddenly come under some sort of criminal indictment, or illness or some other issue, it would be her that he trusted with his home.

He was invested in her. As a Dominant, certainly, but also as a man. She didn't just serve his sexual appetites, she served his social needs, and his emotional release. He wasinvested in Felicity and didn't like the idea of risking that investment.

"Felicity..." he said, but decided not to say it. This was, after all, a job for her and not part of the agreement. "I'll ask you again, just to be certain. This is an opportunity, but not the only one, for my ongoing game with the Detective. Are you interested in spending a night in submission to both Astrid and I, separate from whatever I might gain from it?"

Felicity smiled softly and kissed him. "I will submit, my dear," she said. "As long as you are there, I'll always trust you have my safety and pleasure in mind."

He kissed her back. "Tonight, I think we relax," he said when their lips finally parted. "No play. Tell me about how your thesis is coming along."

Felicity smiled and rested her head against his shoulder again as they cuddled on the plush easy chair. It wasn't the first time she'd spent telling him about her life - a taboo for most escort-client relationships, Marc was sure - and it wouldn't be the last. It was these moments, these emotional payments, that built the trust he was finding he relied on more than he'd realised.

Chapter 33

"So, that was something," Jules said as Sinead re-entered her apartment.

Sinead could feel herself flushing in a panic that Jules had seen what she'd allowed Marc to do out in the corridor, but that was impossible. She tried to keep a straight face, just raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Jules asked, gesturing to the table where they had just finished dinner. "Marc Fornier, person-of-interest in your case and nowmy case, was here for dinner in your apartment."

"Yeah, I know," Sinead said. Jules had moved over to the couch, and Sinead flopped down onto the other end and let out a big sigh. "We explained it to you."

"You explainedsome of it to me," Jules said. "I get the feeling that you were holding some shit back. And the fact that I'm getting that from you but not him either means he's a better liar than you, or he doesn't know you're crushing on him."

"I am not," Sinead said, maybe too loud. She softened her voice. "I'm not," she repeated herself. "He's an asset. A volunteer. There's no quid pro quo going on, he's not getting paid."

"After the whole 'dinner under cover' it sounds more like he's paying you," Jules said and pursed her lips.

"Oh, fuck off," Sinead sighed, thankful that Marc hadn't mentioned the makeover. Or the dress and jewellery. That would look bad. "What about you? You were flirting like crazy with him."

"Well, heis charming," Jules said with a little smirk. "And hot in that, 'Sexy friend of my older brother' kind of way. Like he's out of reach, but also right there. You've seriously not fucked him?"

"No!" Sinead said. "Jesus fuck, Jules. No sex. Not even a handy." It wasn't a lie, since that first time had been a blowjob. "I'm not seeing him, I'm not dating him. Yeah, he's attractive, and yeah, he's charming. If you want to go after him, you can."

"Well, I can't exactly do that while he's an official person of interest," Jules sighed. "I'll do what I can, but you should let him know I'll probably need him to come down to the station to chat again so we can clear it up officially and no one else tries to go after him. How helpful was he, really?"

Sinead frowned and shrugged. "Enough that I'll stick my neck out for him," she said. "And I'm trying to keep him helpful, so don't mess with him."

"I won't, I won't," Jules promised, then smirked again. "At least not until he's cleared. Then I might look to mess around with him a bit."

"Do what you want," Sinead said and hated the fact that she was angry she was saying it. Marc was still leveraging her in ways that were dangerous to her and the case if they came out, and she knew it was wrong. Knew that the way she was thinking with her pussy was the wrong move.

"Well, we'll see," Jules sighed.

They changed the subject, and the evening wore on, and Sinead felt like maybe the whole thing would blow over. Jules would clear Marc, and Marc would see that he had more eyes on him and would cool off on whatever he was doing. Things could normalise, and maybe he'd just be an asset, or maybe Sinead would ask him out. Do things properly.

Marc would probably be a good boyfriend, she thought to herself errantly while half-listening to Jules talk about some of the internal politics happening back in her old precinct. Then she shook her head, grimacing at herself just a little.What the fuck am I doing? He's a fucking sexual predator, playing me along. How would that make a good boyfriend?

She realised she was playing absently with her necklace as she and Jules talked, and had to force herself to stop by thinking of Marc's smarmy, know-it-all, better-than-you smile.

Fuck Marc, she thought to herself.

And then, when Jules had left for the night, and the kitchen was clean and the dishes were away and the lights were off in the apartment except for the washroom, Sinead took the buttplug out of her ass and cleaned it in the sink before setting it down on a towel on the counter to dry.

"Fuck, Marc," Sinead sighed, looking at the little plug.

Chapter 34

"We're on," Marc said over the phone. He was in his office - he hadn't wanted to interrupt his quiet night with Felicity to text Astrid, and this felt like a more personal communication than a text anyway.

"She consented?" Astrid asked, her warm smile clear over the call.

"She has," Marc said. "We can discuss particulars and schedule the date later, if you don't mind. For now, I was wondering if you would be willing to forward the information you gained."

"Mmm, Marc," Astrid said, her voice a little husky as she revelled in her mild amount of power over him. "You know I work with payment up front."

"Astrid," Marc said sternly.

"But I know you're good for it," Astrid followed up. "Should I run it down to you myself, or have it delivered to your little detective friend?"

It wasn't a surprise to Marc that Astrid would know about the Detective. Likely she'd already hacked Sinead's personal social media accounts at the very least and done some snooping. It was a sort of collateral damage to keeping a woman like Astrid on a regular retainer. Marc was still a little proud of himself that Astrid didn't know about his arrangement with Felicity; that was only between the two of them and would remain that way.

"Does it all fit onto a thumb drive?" Marc asked.

"It does," Astrid replied. "It's almost entirely text and banking documents. No audio or visual mistakes for your boy. At least in his cloud or personal records. Lots of photos of naked women though - he's quite the playboy. And he had a particularly hot little housewife."

"Just messenger the drive over please, Astrid," Marc said. "You can seduce the housewife once the main thrust of the Detective's efforts land, alright?"

"Hmmhmmhmm," she chuckled in a hum. "Tu me connais trop bien. Wouldn't it be delicious, though?"

"You have your games and I have mine," Marc said, shaking his head lightly. In all likelihood she didn't mean it or would lose interest before the time came. "Unless there is anything else?"

There were other matters to discuss, but they were more on the up-and-up in terms of her regular work for Marc. Almost half an hour passed before Marc hung up with Astrid and had time to text Sinead.

'The information will be in my hands soon. Are you ready for our next adventure?'

Marc didn't have long to wait until she responded five minutes later.

'That depends on how good the information is,' Sinead replied. 'Your 'adventures' are a little much.'

Marc smirked to himself and quickly typed his next text. 'You can always refuse to play the game, ma petite rebelle. Make sure you are free Thursday evening.'

'Done.' Sinead agreed.

His smile didn't slip as he left his office for lunch, walking a block away from the building in the cold of a Toronto February to reach the little deli he liked. He had his purchase and was just sitting down to eat, deciding his plans for Sinead, when the bell on the deli door jingled and Marc had to raise an eyebrow.

"Detective," he said, standing back up straight. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."

Jules, dressed in a tailored pantsuit that gave her a feminine charm without showering off her assets, was tightly laced up with her hair in a bun and her posture straight. "Fancy meeting you here, Marc," she said, though she'd obviously planned it.

"Would you care to join me?" he asked, gesturing to the other seat at his table.

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd be interested in going for a ride with me," she said. "A courtesy, so we can clear up some things."

He'd expected a phone call, or some other form of summons, if Jules was going to follow through on protecting Sinead's plan for him as a contact. Marc had certainlynot been expecting to get picked up again. At least this time it wasn't him getting pulled out of his office in front of his staff. Explaining away one such instance had been manageable. Two would cause irreparable repair as the rumours would gain more traction.

"How long of a courtesy might this be?" Marc asked. "I do need to get back to work, Detective."

Jules smiled a little lopsidedly, the beautiful Asian woman looking like she could have fit into any cop drama as an experienced detective who used sarcasm to deflect the things around them. "I thought you were the boss, Marc. Doesn't that mean you can take off whenever you want?"

"If that's how your bosses work, it explains some of the issues with crime in the city," Marc said with a little sigh. "May I at least bring my sandwich?"

"Of course," Jules said. "Just no eating in my car."

Chapter 35

The ride to the precinct was quiet. Not because Marc was feeling particularly put out, but because when Jules put him in the front seat and then walked around to the driver's side, she pointed to the dashcam. Marc assumed that it was just a caution and there wasn't any serious trouble, but he decided to let her take the lead and they made the twenty-minute drive in silence.

Jules escorted him into the precinct and led him to an interview room. He still had his phone, so he quickly texted the office to let them know he was in an impromptu meeting and to push a couple of calls he had scheduled. It took almost half an hour for Jules to come back, and when she did she was carrying a pair of coffees. She set them down on the desk, then took a remote out of her jacket pocket and pointed it at a camera in the upper corner of the room and the little red recording light turned off.

"We're in the clear to talk openly," Jules said.

"How open?" Marc asked with a smile, accepting his coffee with a nod and a raised eyebrow. His fingers brushed hers as he took the cup from her, hinting at the flirting they'd been doing the night before.

"Open enough, Marc," Jules said, rolling her eyes slightly. She sat back and took a sip of her own coffee, her posture relaxed as she crossed her legs. "I have a couple of real questions for you that should clear up anything and lead to another more serious talk in here, but first we can just chat a bit."

"Just chat, hmm?" Marc asked. "Is that what was on your mind?Juste une conversation informelle?"

"My French isn't that good, but I got that," Jules said. "Yes, informal. Casual. Personal."

"Then, my dear Detective, please suggest a topic of conversation," Marc said. "Travel, cuisine, perhaps the weather?"

"Tell me about you and Sinead," Jules said.

"What is there to tell?" Marc asked. "She asked me for help, I gave her help."

"Why, though?" Jules asked. "What do you get out of it?"

"Why should I receive anything in return, beyond spending some time with a beautiful woman?" Marc asked. "And you must admit, your former partner is quite striking."

"That's the problem, Marc," Jules said. "And you're a charmer. So I want to make sure that you're on the up and up here. Have you two had sex?"

"Bah,non," Marc said, wagging a finger at the Asian detective. "Pourquoi tu demandes ça? No, the Detective and I have not slept together."

"Well, that's good."

"Pourquoi?" Marc asked. "Not to be so forward, Jules, but are you perhaps asking not because of concern for Sinead, but out of... personal interest?"

"Are you implying something?" Jules asked.

"Only that our rapport over dinner was quite pleasant," Marc said with a smile. "And that I would not mind the idea of another dinner. Perhaps more intimate, so we can discuss you instead of me."

"Youare dangerous," Jules said with a little smirk and a shake of her head.

"Le danger, c'est le sel de la vie," Marc said, then cocked his head to the side as Jules made it clear she didn't quite catch that one. "Danger can be fun," he simplified. "A little bit."

"It can," Jules said, and for a moment she indulged herself and looked Marc up and down. He didn't shift, and simply sat and sipped at his coffee as he let her look. She was a beautiful woman and he didn't mind being appraised and appreciated - perhaps things would have been different if he weren't so wrapped up in Sinead. Jules certainly had as strong a personality as the Detective, she just lacked that fiery temper that Sinead could show occasionally. As it was, Marc was having fun but knew that whatever banter was going on between them, Jules was only having some fun as well. If one of them were serious the tone would be different.

"So, Detective," Marc said after a long moment of silence. "If you are feeling more assured that your former partner and I are not 'an item,' as you Canadians say, perhaps there is something else you would like to ask me?"