The French Apartment

The French Apartment - Chapter 5: Geraldo's

Fourth day in Paris, evening.

After a few days, I was getting used to the rhythm of the household. Claudine, Vivienne, and I were sitting in the television room: the 'salle de séjour' after dinner. I was less and less nervous around them and I was starting to feel... comfortable. It was nearly midnight: dinner rarely started before 8:00 and Francesca prepared three courses for dinner which went on late. She retired early to her own apartment on the floor above us and Vivienne either didn't have much schoolwork, or didn't care to do it. So the three of us lounged and watched television before bed.

I was in what had become my unofficial corner of the couch: the same corner where Vivienne made me cum into her mouth a few days ago. She sat cross legged in the middle of the couch, in a dark T-shirt as usual, clearly not wearing a bra and covered from the waist down in a blanket. Claudine had her hair tied up and her little glasses on after changing into one of her nighttime outfits- a long silk robe with a light blue camisole underneath it. As she moved around, I caught glimpses of the curve of her cleavage and peeks of her bare skin underneath her robe.

My eyes kept moving from one woman to the other. I shifted in my corner and drew a blanket over my lap. I was really beginning to feel the 'probation' Claudine had put me under, and so I hadn't been allowed to orgasm for two days now. It was getting more and more difficult to focus on anything except the women around me.

"How about Saturday?" Vivienne asked Claudine. "I need new clothes."

"How does a girl who only wears T-shirts and jeans need new clothes?" Claudine responded, in a light, teasing tone.

"Perhaps I need new T-shirts!" Vivienne insisted. "And I need some new records as well."

"I think you already have all the Sinead O'Connor and Cure records one can buy," I said. "They aren't making any new ones, you know."

Vivienne just turned to me and stuck her tongue out. "Your job is to be my manservant and carry my bags, not to judge my music."

"Francesca won't carry them?" I asked.

"Hah!" Vivienne threw her head back. "She would only tell me she is not a 'pack mule.'"

Claudine smiled. "So I suppose you need to bring your own pack mule, then?"

"Exactly!" Vivienne said.

Claudine turned to me. "You are alright with this, James?"

I shrugged. "Well, we all have our uses in life."

Vivienne snickered.

Someone on the television let out a yell and fell into the water. Both women turned and started yelling in French at the television. We were watching a show about people wandering naked in the wilderness with awkward French dubbing. The show suggestion was Vivienne's, but Claudine was surprisingly invested in it. When Claudine and Vivienne weren't fighting, they actually got along surprisingly well.

"But you have a paper to write this weekend," Claudine said, as the drama on the television ended. "If you do it, you can have James on Sunday."

"Fine," Vivienne agreed.

"And Francesca will be your chaperone," Claudine finished.

"Chaperone?!" Vivienne got visibly annoyed. "What am I a child? I'm nineteen, a grown woman!"

"That's exactly the issue," Claudine said, giving us both a knowing look.

Vivienne growled and turned to me. She leaned forward and put a hand in my hair, messing up the fresh cut.

"You know your haircut is so old fashioned? You look like... Carey Grant's nerdy younger brother, or something," Vivienne said.

"I think it looks nice!" Claudine insisted. "Much better than the unkempt mess he had when he first arrived."

My haircut that Vivienne was now demolishing was one of the errands we had been running this week. They were a mix of preparations for school like buying my books, along with many cosmetic appointments. Some I expected, others were a surprise such as eyebrow threading: a service I did not know even existed until now. Claudine was, naturally, in charge of the entire routine. I was supposed to go to Geraldo's for clothes the day when Claudine and Francesca interrogated me, but after that ordeal we rescheduled it. Claudine said she was too distracted to think about clothes that day.

"What do you think?" Vivienne asked me, gesturing to the mess that used to be a nice haircut.

I looked between the two women. I wondered if they enjoyed making me constantly choose between them in their little battles. I was getting better at choosing neutrally, without giving either a clear victory.

"Haven't you always fantasized about having Carey Grant's nerdy younger brother carry your shopping bags all day?" I asked Vivienne.

She scoffed and sniffed at the product on her hand and wiped it off roughly on my shirt. "I bet my mother will buy you clothes to make you look like an old businessman."

I shrugged. "Well I haven't seen them yet, but I'll wear my new clothes on Sunday, and you can judge them for yourself."

"Oh, I plan to," Vivienne promised.

Claudine's expression was, as ever, difficult to determine.

Finally, Vivienne stopped messing with my hair and stood. "Alright, I'm going to bed."

"Au revoir," I said to her, waving. I was making my way through my book of French sayings.

"You're such a nerd," Vivienne said, shaking her head, and left the room.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked Claudine.

Claudine just shook her head and yawned as she turned off the television. "Come on James. You need to wash off the day, then come to bed."

This was one of Claudine's rules: a mandatory shower before bed to 'wash off the day.' I used to shower in the mornings, but not anymore. I entered the bathroom, undressed, and began to warm the shower. Unlike the hall bath, Claudine's ensuite bathroom actually had a proper glass-walled shower stall. Just before getting in the shower, my phone lit up with a text from 'Fucking Beautiful Vivienne.'

FBV: 'You should say bonne nuit, not au revoir. You are going to bed, not leaving for America.'

Me: 'OK. Bonne nuit.'

FBV: 'So where is my picture?'

I chuckled. She had been bugging me about this. I made sure the door to the bathroom was closed and I took a selfie from the mirror of my chest and stomach, ending just where the 'V' between my abs and legs pointed down towards my groin. I was no bodybuilder, but I was proud of my broad chest and the light swell of muscles just starting to show on my abs. I sucked in my stomach just a little.

FBV: 'Don't be a tease, show me lower'

Me: 'Maybe next time, about to head in the shower'

FBV: 'So are you still saving your first time for me, virgin horse boy? Or are you trying to fuck my mother instead?'

I hesitated. I still honestly wasn't sure how much Vivienne knew about me and Claudine. The prospect of fucking Claudine was something I had hardly stopped thinking since I first laid eyes on her, but with Vivienne... it felt right to agree to that, somehow. I was still debating what to type back when I got another text from her.

Me: 'I am saving it for you, as I said'

FBV: 'Promise me.'

I sighed.

Me: 'I promise. It's yours.'

FBV: 'I grant you permission to think about me during your shower'

Me: 'Thank you, very generous'

FBV: ;)

FBV: 'Also you still haven't eaten me out yet'

I laughed and shook my head, but it seemed she was done texting for now. I considered just jerking myself off in the shower, just to relieve some tension, but there was always the danger that Claudine would make sure I was still abiding by my 'probation.' I ultimately decided not to risk it. I quickly finished showering and started brushing my teeth. I stole a look outside the door to the bathroom as I brushed. Claudine had removed her silk robe and was wearing only her the light blue camisole. I could trace the outline of her breasts and her nipples poking through the thin silk. I finished brushing my teeth as one of my hands stroked myself, over my pajama pants.

Vivienne had sent me a picture while I was in the shower: another picture of black darkness. At first I thought it was identical to the one she texted the other day, but then I was able to make out her knuckles and realized what it was.

Me: 'Are you fingering yourself?'

FBV: 'I just finished. Bonne nuit'

"Jesus Fucking Christ," I muttered to myself as I spit toothpaste into the basin.

I left the bathroom and joined Claudine in bed. I had my phone out as I slipped under the covers.

"You know the rules, no electronics in bed," Claudine said in her gentle chiding tone.

"Just setting the alarm," I said, as I placed the phone on the nightstand next to me.

"You should get a book to read in bed," Claudine suggested. "We can go to Shakespeare and Company later this week and find you something."

"Part of your attempt to culture me?" I asked with a grin.

"Of course!" Claudine turned to me, and I watched her light blonde-brown hair fall beside her face as she smiled at me. She reached out a hand to pat my shoulder, and my eyes dropped to see her incredible cleavage pushing up, under her thin camisole. I hoped she would do more, but she only caressed my shoulder in a friendly manner and let go.

"Now you need to get some rest for your training tomorrow," Claudine said, smiling. "Bonne nuit," she said, and turned out the light.

"Bonne nuit," I responded.

Claudine turned around with her back towards me. I knew that underneath the covers, that camisole barely covered her ass, and I only had to reach out a hand under the covers and I would be able to feel her bare ass underneath. I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, hoping Claudine would turn towards me in the night, but she never did.

* * *

Fifth day in Paris, morning.

"Ciao, Francesca," Vivienne's voice grumbled, half-asleep, in the distance. The front door slammed as Vivienne left for school.

I blinked and pushed myself up on my arms in bed. I was too horny to sleep well, and Claudine's 'probation' was making sleeping more difficult.

Francesca walked in with an apron over her dress and smiled at me.

"Buongiorno, James!"

She closed the bedroom door and locked it, though there was no one else in the apartment. She untied her apron and dropped it on a low dresser beside the door, revealing a summery red and green flowered dress underneath. It was cut low, just falling lightly off her breasts and ending at her mid-thigh. The weather was already starting to turn to autumn in Paris, but Francesca stubbornly still dressed for summer.

"Do you remember what we worked on yesterday, James?" Francesca asked in her heavy Italian accent. She spoke with the casual tone of a tutor beginning to review a math problem.

"I think I dreamed about it, actually," I said. It wasn't entirely a lie: thoughts of Claudine, Vivienne, and Francesca often seeped into my dreams.

"Training even while asleep, I love to hear it!" Francesca said, laughing.

She walked over beside the bed and peeked underneath the blanket. She grinned as her fingers curled over the tip of the tent in my pajamas. I gasped, sensitive to her touch, and hardened under her fingers.

"Hello morning wood," Francesca said, smiling. "Someone's ready to go right away, huh?"

"Well, I do really enjoy our trainings, actually."

"Actually?" she snickered. "You sound surprised, as if you would hate it!"

"No, that's not what I meant, I-" I gasped as her fingers gripped my growing hard-on and then went to my thigh. Her hand massaged from one thigh to the other, passing my crotch each direction. I composed myself to answer her. "I only meant, that women give blowjobs just to please men, not because it's enjoyable to them. I thought it would be the same with this, but I enjoy it..."

Francesca cocked her head to the side, confused. "Why do you say that? That women don't enjoy a blowjob?"

"I mean, just when I talked about it with guys, that's just..." I shrugged. I couldn't have said where or when I had such a conversation, but it had been taken for granted with me and my friends. "I guess I assumed that it was like, a chore for girls?"

Francesca snorted and to my dismay stopped touching my cock while she laughed. She shook her head and pushed back the strands of brown hair that fell from her high pile into her eyes. "James, I cannot speak for all women- I am sure there are many women who find sex to be tedious. But this sounds like a very dull life to me, and I very much enjoy it, myself."

"Wait, you actually enjoy blowjobs?" I asked.

"Why shouldn't I?" she shrugged and pulled her dress up over her head and dropped it beside her. She wore red and white underwear, and my eyes ran over her lithe, thin body. Her red bra held up a pair of pretty, medium-sized breasts. She had not yet let me see them, but my eyes found the delicate swell of her cleavage. I reached out and ran a hand over the curve of her hip. Francesca was thin, but the curves of her body still retained a fun cushion and squish.

She knelt beside me and her hand snaked under the covers again and undid the button of my fly and fished out my cock. Her hands worked over my shaft and she kissed the sides of my dick as she spoke.

"I love feeling a cock grow hard and horny in my mouth..." She pulled back the cover, exposing me, and stroked me quickly. Without anyone else in the house I could groan loudly. She knelt down and licked the side of the head of my cock, alternating speaking with licking my growing erection. "It makes me so wet to feel my tongue driving it crazy, twitching... ready to explode... until it simply cannot take any more... and the boy can do nothing else but fill my mouth with warm, salty cum... it's such fun control I have, like their cock is a slave to me..."

I was leaking precum all over her hand and lips. She smiled. "See? It's like a flagpole already. And I haven't even put it in my mouth!"

"Francesca..." I groaned.

"Am I making you want to suck a dick, James?"

"No, but... I'm about to cum," I said, desperately.

"Oh! Thank you for telling me!" Francesca stood straight and laughed as she put my dick carefully back into my pajama pants. "We wouldn't want to break Claudine's rules, would we?"

I stared at her, hoping she was about to do just that.

She leaned down and patted my shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry James, I'll work on her. You'll be released soon, I'm sure!"

"Please, Francesca," I begged.

Francesca held up a finger in warning and did her best impression of a Claudine 'tsk.'

"You're still on probation until Claudine is assured you have learned some self-control. Are you trying to skirt her rules, in her own bed?"

"No," I moaned, disappointed.

"Troublesome boy," Francesca said with a smirk. "After all, what is the point of self-control if it isn't tested?"

"That sounds like something Claudine would say," I said.

She laughed, and pushed down her red panties to the floor, exposing the thin little slit of her pussy.

"You're completely shaved," I said, surprised. She had a cute little tuft of light brown pubic hair yesterday.

"I thought I would make your job easier, so you can see better what you're doing!" she said, and pulled my hand to her slit. She was already wet, and I slid inside her, testing, exploring the smooth, shaved slit of her pussy and the little nub of her clit.

Francesca bit her lower lip and then hopped onto the bed quickly. Her knees went on either side of my head and the bed bounced with her weight as she got in position. She adjusted her hips and within seconds I realized she was mounting my face.

"This is different," I said, as Francesca dropped her pussy just above me. Yesterday she laid on her back as she gave me instructions.

"We're trying something different today," she said, as one of her hands reached above to grip the top of the wooden headboard. She wiggled her hips aggressively until her pussy dropped just over my mouth.

I reached up and grabbed her little, firm ass roughly with one hand. I began sucking on her clit as she gave instructions. It was at first a little more difficult in this position, but I soon got used to it and felt her body undulating as her hips curled forward, into my face, back, and forward again.

"Now add this," she sighed, and grabbed my hand, and extended two fingers.

My hand gently teased open the lips of her pussy as she guided my hand higher up, inside her.

"Keep sucking," she murmured as my fingers wiggled inside her.

"Both?" I asked.

"Certo," she said, and ground her sex harder into my face.

It was awkward getting my hand and mouth working simultaneously, but I soon found out how to make it work. Francesca whispered instructions to both my mouth and fingers- having me swirl my fingers around, inside her, feeling and pulling. She alternated motions with my tongue- first circles, around her clit, then little flicks, and then long, slow strokes.

"Keep... keep pulling... inside," she sighed. Her ability to speak was leaving her, and her moans were becoming loud, and constant. Less and less punctuated by instructions.

She continued holding onto the headboard with both hands and started arching her back and rocking her hips, pushing her clit against my mouth. I managed to hold her ass steady as her body began to shake. Francesca's moans took on a low, deep growl and I felt her wetness seeping over my fingers and my hand and dripping down my chin.

She stopped moving her hips for a second to put her hands behind her back. Her red bra fell beside me on the bed. I looked up to see her cute, bouncy breasts hovering above me. I pulled my hand out from her and massaged the joints of my fingers.

"Getting sore?" she said, breathing heavily.

I nodded.

"Well too bad, get back in there."

I switched hands, putting my wet one on her ass and taking my fresh hand to put inside of her. She grinned wickedly and wiggled her hips slowly.

"Good, now are you ready for the last instruction?"

I nodded.

"Now keep your fingers moving, and you will suck my clit so hard that either you suck it off my body, or I come on your face. Whichever comes first."

"Got it," I murmured into Francesca's pussy, and went back to work.

* * *

Afternoon.

Eighth arrondissement (Élysée).

A few hours later, I stood in my boxers on a little platform in the center of the private changing room in Geraldo's. A stout little middle aged Spanish man was measuring me with jerky but confident movements. Everything about the man was loud: from his mixture of jovial European accents, nearly impossible for me to understand, to his orange and purple vest and waxed moustache. He was holding a measuring tape up to my various body parts and making notes while he chatted with Claudine in his thick mixture of accents.

"So I guess you're Geraldo, then?" I asked, finally.

"Yes! I am, I was named after..." I struggled to understand the next few words until he ended with a flourishing 'Geraldo!' I nodded politely as he continued. "But the namesake of this store is actually my great-grandfather! This shop has survived two world wars, you know!"

Geraldo launched into a long story, little of which I understood other than that it involved Spain, a number of other people also named Geraldo, and the word 'luxury' which he pronounced as if it had four or five syllables.

"Thank you, Geraldo," Claudine said graciously. I don't think his story was quite finished, but it was clear from her tone that it was now.

"Of course, madame Valette!" Geraldo bowed low to her, or at least as low as the limits of his portly stomach would allow. Claudine held out her hand and he kissed the back of her hand sloppily. They discussed the list of the clothes he would go retrieve for me to try on, and then he left through a heavy purple curtain, leaving me in the private room with Claudine and Francesca.