Madam by Jeannette Angell

Author:Jeannette Angell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Schwartz Publishing Pty. Ltd

“You brought that one on yourself.” Jen said as we got ready for bed. There was one king-sized bed in the room; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept in one.

“He was so young,” I said, either by way of excuse of explanation, I wasn’t sure.

“He had pimples,” she observed, acidly. She had brushed her teeth and was sliding into a black T-shirt and boxer shorts. “What is it with French people and black clothes, anyway?” I demanded, à propos of nothing.

“People in New York wear black all the time, too,” she said. “And London. Maybe it’s a city thing.”

“I live in a city,” I said, looking at the white cotton nightgown that she had helped me into. Okay, so I was clearly a lot drunker than I had thought I was.

“Not according to your wardrobe, you don’t,” she said, the smile back in her voice.

She shut off the light, and we lay in the darkness together for a moment before she started giggling. “What?” I asked.

She turned over to face me. “So,” she said, fighting to keep her voice serious, imitating Front Desk Boy, “How do I prove that I fucked a madam?”

I started laughing then, too, far more than the joke warranted—but then again, that’s one of the beauties of being drunk. Everything is far funnier.

“Like this,” I said without thinking, putting my arms around her and pulling her closer to me, and then we were kissing, soft lips on soft lips, mine still bruised and tender from the Front Desk Boy, hers fresh from her toothpaste.

The kiss lasted about three centuries and three seconds all at once. Jen pulled away, slightly, and started to say something, but I put my finger to her lips. “Shh,” I said. “Don’t say anything.”

She didn’t. In fact, she opened her lips to my finger and pulled it inside, sucking gently and then harder. I moved my hips closer to hers, wriggling against her. I pulled my finger out of her mouth and moved it down her body, rubbing her breast and pinching her nipple through the cotton fabric of the T-shirt. She started to say something again, but I leaned over her and put my mouth on hers, a little more insistent this time, my tongue probing.

Her arms came up, locked around me and she pulled me on top of her, her kisses now as insistent as mine. Our breasts moved against each other, and her breathing was ragged as she fumbled with the ribbons on my nightgown. It didn’t work, and we both started giggling again. She brought both hands up and simply ripped the front of it. “I love it when you’re assertive,” I gasped.

Our hands were all over each other, smoothing, caressing, pinching. Jen slid down in the bed, her lips and tongue on my breasts, teasing my nipples, sucking on them. I squirmed under her, but she held me down as she teased and tickled me. I undulated under her, half-breathless, twisting and turning and then

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