Fabienne and June Ch. 04

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We fell asleep in each other’s arms. I woke about midnight (according to June’s bedside radio clock) and looked at her. She was so peaceful. I watched her as she slept. Who had hurt her? That was the thought that came to me. She was beautiful, and she was lovely, but those undercurrents (sometimes not so ‘under’) of anxiety came from an external source.

I knew, from personal experience, how the outside world could shape you, how its perceptions of you could be like the iron in the soul. I knew how I appeared to the world. From somewhere I had the strength (or was it stubbornness?) to counter it with my own narrative.

A poor, mixed-race girl from the banlieue of Paris could expect little from life anyway. If you were pretty, then options opened up, not ones a “good girl” might want to take, but they were there, and I knew one or two women who had done well for themselves materially. For the rest, a low-paying job, a husband, and children were, if you got lucky, options. But for a four-foot eight girl who did not even look “normal,” who indeed looked “abnormal,” the options were not appealing. Maybe that was why I had taken my own route. No other had presented itself.

All of that meant I recognised another bruised soul. My hand went to her hair, and I stroked it. She murmured a little, but slept on. Good, I did not want to disturb her. The past was whatever it was. All I could do was love her. I kissed her nose and then snuggled in, falling asleep in a sense of bliss.

The night passed all too quickly, though sleep somehow brought us closer.

As I woke, the light, cascading through the opened curtains made me blink.

“Coffee, sleepyhead?”

I looked, and there, in her robe, was June.

“Is it late?” I asked sleepily.

“Not too late,” she said, putting a cup on the bedside table. “But if we are going to shower and get to the restaurant, I need to be up and about now. You don’t have to come and clean, you know, I know you have a proper job to go to.”

I looked at her:

“Until you get yourselves sorted, I’m happy to help clean and wait tables – both of which are, incidentally,” I added, “proper jobs!”

“You know what I mean,” she smiled back.

“I know you’re putting yourself down, gorgeous,” I said, raising myself and giving her a good snog.

We had a quick breakfast and showered and were out of the house by seven o’clock. I took a change of clothes with me, as I did not suppose school would welcome my turning up in shorts and a tee shirt.

By eight, we’d done the necessary and just had time for a coffee.

“I just need to change,” I said.

“I know,” said June, pouring a coffee. “Get on with it then.”

“Here?” I giggled, “But someone passing might see.”

“We’re at the back of the restaurant, so not likely. But I do want to see,” she smiled.

That felt naughty – but nice. So, as she watched, I stripped to my knickers.

“Nice!” June grinned. “Give us a twirl, let’s see that cute bum of yours.”

It felt deliciously naughty, so I did it, turning so my back was facing her. I felt her hands on my bottom, squeezing it.

“You do have the cutest bum, Fabienne,” and she patted it.

I wriggled in response.

“Bend!” She said.

Feeling incredibly tingly, I bent at the waist, opening my legs. I felt her fingers trail between my thighs, just gently easing the gusset into my pussy.

“Right, enough!”

“Bad girl!” I joked.

“Well better spank me later, then!”

“I shall,” I told her, as I got upright and, grabbing my skirt and top, got dressed for school.

“Thanks to you I shall be going to school with wet knickers!”

“Good,” she said, “don’t see why I should be the only one.”

She looked adorable as she teased, so, as she was still sitting, she was at the right height for a good kiss, before, reluctantly, we had to break off.

“See you at home or here later?” I asked.

“If you want to pop round here about five, I daresay I shall be here. Perhaps we can grab a bite?” June replied.

“I know what I want to grab – and bite!” I giggled, giving her one last kiss before I set off through the crowded streets for school.

I looked at passers-by, all of them, like me, preoccupied with what their day would bring, and for once, I thought myself blessed.

Colleagues at school noticed I was in cheerful frame of mind and several asked whether I’d had a “good weekend” in a meaningful tone of voice. I just smiled.

I bumped into Elle at the refectory.

“Hey Teach! You look a happy girl. How’s the girlfriend?”

“I’m fine,” I giggled, “and so is June!”

“Ooh I see, like that eh? Fallen for her?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Elle giggled, “and Mum and I are so happy for you.”

“How was your weekend?”

“Put it this way, Penny will need today to get over it!”

I giggled. It felt nice. She was happy, so was Penny, and so were June and I.

The escort day passed too slowly for my taste, but finally the end of teaching came, and as soon as I could, I was back off to Wolfie’s.

I got there in record time, and saw that June was doing some stocktaking.

“Hi, Fabienne!” Wolfie smiled. “Good to see you back here. You on tonight?”

“Depends on June,” I giggled.

Wolfie blushed.

“Hi love!” June shouted over, “how was it?”

I kissed her.

“Better now,” I said.

“I’ll make myself scarce,” offered Wolfie.

“Like we’re going to do it here to embarrass you!” June teased.

“Oh, I’d not mind, I’m a good boy!” Wolfie teased back.

“Not so good that you get a ringside seat,” June riposted.

“One at the back then? You’re selling seats? We’re going into cabaret?” He laughed.

“You’re incorrigible,” June teased back.

“Incorrige me!” He joked.

He was a nice guy, one of the best I’d come across, and he had a gift for putting people at their ease. I could see why people liked him.

“I’ll rustle you two some grub, if you don’t mind eating with a Wolf?”

“Well as you are offering, sweetie, yes, please!”

Wolfie cooked us a delicious scratch supper which set us up nicely for opening time.

One of the things I’d liked about waitressing was that downtime between closing and opening again. It was like being in some sort of private club with friends, laughing and chattering before the customers descended again. It was good to feel that again, and even better to feel it with my girlfriend.

“This time,” I whispered to her when Wolfie was taking the plates away, “I am getting dressed in private!”

She giggled.

“I am sure Wolfie wouldn’t mind,” she teased.

“Zut!” I said, before kissing her and going into the back to change.

“Ta da!” I said, emerging in my shorts and tee shirt.

“Very nice,” said Wolfie, “love the shorts!”

“Hands off, she’s mine, I saw her first,” June giggled.

“A Wolf can look,” Wolfie joked back.

“Okay, enough of this, I know my bum is what you both want, but I think the customers might want something more substantial.”

“French rump steak,” Wolfie giggled, “sounds good to me!”

And with that, he went off to the kitchen.

“There are not many bookings tonight love, so if you are happy to do front of house, I’ll do reception and the till, okay with you?”

“Yes,” I smiled, “boss.”

“Enough of that!”

June had been right. It was a quiet evening. In addition to the three bookings we knew about, we had three drop ins, all pleasant and with no repeat of Saturday’s Hooray Henrys. By ten thirty we were all but done.

We sat together over a late-night drink.

“You’re good at this, darling,” June complimented me, “but we need to get our act together, you can’t be doing two jobs all the time.”

“As long as I am with you, I will manage for a while,” I said, leaning in to kiss her.

We were back home by eleven thirty.

“Shower?” She asked.

“You look tired,” I said, “we can leave it till morning.”

“Do you mind having a smelly bedmate?” June asked.

“Depends what she smells of,” I said, leaning over to kiss her lips.

Our lips met. Shivers passed through me. I knew she was tired, and so was I, but I could not resist her. I pushed my tongue gently against her lips, which opened to receive it. The moment our tongues touched, I felt the electric currents shoot through me; the things she did to me.

I pushed her back on the sofa, my hands rucking up her skirt. If she’d pushed back, I’d have taken it as a signal she was too tired; she didn’t.

I kissed her neck as she allowed herself to relax. Unbuttoning her blouse, I kissed her breasts, pulling her cups down to allow me access to her nipples which were full and delightfully stiff for my lips, which sucked them in, one after the other. She gripped my head.

But nothing could stop me now. Pulling her skirt up, I kissed downwards, and then, parting her thighs, I kissed her mound. I could smell her arousal.

“Darling, you don’t have to…”

“Oh,” I said, looking up mischievously, “but I do. Need to test what my girlfriend smells of.”

I pulled her knickers aside and slid my tongue along the line of her lips.

“Fuckkkkk!” June moaned and arched her hips, pulling her knickers down. I helped and, once they were off, pushed her legs over my shoulders and began to devour her wetness.

There is just something about the ripe smell of pussy which sets me on fire with desire, and June’s turned that spark into a flame.

Parting her lips, I applied my broad tongue to the glistening pinkness, teasing her lips with my fingers, and running my wet tongue between them until, reaching her clit, I flicked it, helping it from its hood by sucking as June groaned and gripped my head, pushing it into her gooey slit.

Slurping downwards, I slide my bursa eve gelen escort tongue into her wetness, pushing my nose against her clit and using my right index finger to rim her asshole with her own cunt cream. She gripped me tight.

“Fabienne, you dirty girl!”

Then, as my finger pressed in, she squealed loudly, pulling me to her as her whole body shifted. My tongue pressed deeper, and for the next few minutes, she pulled and pushed my head as I tongue fucked her, my nose rubbing her clit while I took her asshole.

We rocked together, sharing the same rhythm. It felt good. Her scent and taste were overwhelming me, but fortunately, what I was doing had the same effect on her.

“Going to cum soon!”

“Me too!” I cried through her wetness.

“You’re mine, Fabienne, my girl!”

At that she gripped me tight and squirted. I felt my knickers flood as I came too.

It was so good.

As we came down through several layers of aftershock, I looked up, knowing my face was smeared with her cream.

“Well, at least your bedmate will be smelling of you!”

“You did IT again, didn’t you?”

“It?” I giggled, smiling.

“That thing you do.”

“That thing? You mean cumming with you with no manual stimulation? That thing?”

“Yes, you tease, I do. I never saw anyone do that before.”

“What, not all your legion of lovers?”

June took me seriously for a nanosecond:

“I don’t have a legion…”

Then she giggled.

“You are a bad girl.”

“Oh I so am,” I giggled along with her, “and what happens to bad girls?”

“They get denied the spanking they need because I am tired, and we need to get to sleep.”

“I shall pout!” I said.

“You look even cuter, pouting,” June joked. “Now come here.”

I did. For the second night running, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I meant to try to wake up early to surprise June with some coffee in bed, but she beat me to it.

“Hi sleepyhead! How are you?”

“In love with you I think!” I said, sleepily, realising only afterwards that I had used the “L” word.

The look on June’s face registered that she had realised.

“I’ll forgive that, you’ve only just woken up and you smell of pussy.”

“Don’t,” I said, leaning on one elbow.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t dismiss it. I meant it. I’m falling in love with you.”

June blushed. She looked even cuter when she blushed.

“I, I, well, it’s just that, well…” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s okay, I don’t expect you to say it, but I needed to.”

“Don’t,” she said.

“Don’t what?” I asked.

“Don’t dismiss it. I’m glad.”

“Why?” I asked, hoping that I had not put her off me.

“Coz, I think I may be doing the same.”

“What, falling in love with yourself? I recommend falling in love with June.”

“No, you tease, with you!”

And she leaned down and kissed me.

I felt the shivers pass through me and opened my eyes. Our eyes locked. For a moment the world stood still. She pulled up.

“Well,” I said, “that seems to be a thing then!”


“Us falling in love – we think!”

We both giggled at our own absurdity – then kissed again.

“Right, minx, breakfast and shower and we’re out of here!”

I smiled as she sashayed out of the bedroom; I did love watching her bum. I loved kissing it more, but watching it would do – for now. I recalled I owed it a spanking.

With commendable discipline, we managed to breakfast and shower without giving in to the urge to devour each other.

Wolfie noticed something different about us when he came into the restaurant just as we finished cleaning.

“Not just spring in the air!” He said breezily.

“No, floor polish too,” said June.

“Naw, something more romantic.”

“What, like fresh cooked bread?”

“You’re fresh!” Wolfie joked.

“Thanks, Wolfie,” I intervened, “that would be love.”

“Oooh! You used THAT word!”

“I did,” I admitted.

Wolfie looked at June.

“And you?”

“No, I don’t love you,” she said with an entirely straight face as though he had asked her that, “I love Fabienne, which is as well as she’s my girlfriend.”

Wolfie clapped his hands.

“I love a good romance. I am going to make some cupcakes for you to celebrate!”

It was lovely to see his excitement and genuine pleasure. He was, I thought, such a nice man.

He made us something called Welsh pancakes for breakfast, after which I showered, dressed, and skipped off to school after giving my girlfriend a good snog.

I got there early enough to grab another coffee in the refectory, spotting Elle and Amy.

“Hi Teach!” Elle beamed. “Good to see you. How’s the girlfriend?”

“Teach has a girlfriend?” Amy asked. “I thought you were…”

“Nah, she’s gone and got herself a real live adult one.”

“Aww, Miss, that’s lovely görükle escort to hear.”

Their happiness at my happiness made me feel all warm inside. We had a good chat, and before going to class, I thought a quick visit to the ladies might be in order – I had consumed a lot of coffee, even by my high standards.

I went into the stall to do the necessary and stopped with shock. There, on the door, was written:

“French lezzy wants ur cunt, wotch out!”

Another hand had written:

“French lezzy is a pedo!”

Another had added:

“Nigger lezzy is a cunt licker!”

I was shaken.

It obviously referred to me. But what? Who?

Wiping and pulling my knickers up, I smoothed my skirt down, washed my hands, and left, feeling a little sick.

I got to the staffroom, feeling decidedly less happy than when I had arrived at school.

Lesley, Ms Gordon’s secretary popped her head round the door:

“Miss LeGoubin, could you see the Head please?”

A couple of the other staff looked at me. I suddenly felt like a naughty little girl being summoned to see the head, which was ironic, since when I was a little girl, I had never been in trouble with the teachers.

It did not take a second in Mrs Gordon’s office to know something was wrong. It was written all over her face.

“Will you sit down there, Fabienne? Can I get you a coffee?”

I sat.

“No thanks, Mrs Gordon, I have had sufficient.”

“I am afraid, Fabienne,” she began nervously, “that I have to bring up with you some allegations made to me by a parent. I have had this letter, here, look.”

She handed me a letter.

It was not hand-written, nor was it signed.

“Dear Mrs Gordon,

It has some to my attention that the young, coloured woman you are employing is a pervert. I caught her and her “girlfriend” behaving inappropriately in the Cathedral, of all places. I am sure she is a predator and want my daughter removed from her class before she becomes another one of her victims.

I hope you will take action to rid what is a good school of that pervert. Other parents will be writing soon.”

I was shaking as I read it. What vile, evil bigotry.

I looked at Mrs Gordon.

“Well?” She said.

In what I hope was an icy tone, I replied:

“Well what?”

“What have you to say?”

“Other than this is a vile display of homophobia and therefore discriminatory about me in that way and in its racism, just that it should be thrown in the bin and the writer reported to the police.”

“But it is it true?”

I was shocked to my core.

In Paris such a letter would have led to a visit from the gendarmerie, and I told Mrs Gordon that.

“But you must understand, Fabienne, this is not Paris. I have to ask you, are you having sex with one of our pupils?”

My blood ran cold. But at such moments something happens to me. It took over.

“No. I am not. Neither am I, nor have I ever been, a member of the Communist party. Nor, contrary to what you have allowed to remain on the door of the Ladies’ toilets, am I a paedophile or a nigger!”

It was her turn to look shocked.

“I suggest you get it cleaned off,” I said, “and, if you know the daughter of the writer of this letter, I suggest that you ask her who wrote those disgusting things.”

“Girls will be silly, Fabienne, but I must insist on clarity. You are saying you are not having sex with one of our pupils?”

She asked in the active tense. If she had asked whether I had been in a sexual relationship with a pupil, I should have had to have admitted the truth, but she had not asked that. So I could say with all honesty:

“I am not having sex with any pupil.”

“What about with your girlfriend and the incident in the Cathedral?”

I found it hard to believe my ears.

“Are you asking whether I have sex with my girlfriend, or whether we fucked in the cathedral?”

“Fabienne, no need for that sort of language.”

“Sorry, Mrs Gordon, but you have no right to ask me such questions. What I do in my private life is that, private. As for the alleged incident in the cathedral, I suggest you phone Mrs Dyer, the Head of St Bede’s.”

“What does she have to do with it?”

“Well she was not a third party to it if that was where your mind was going. She told the bigot off, as I would hope you would.”

“You don’t understand, Fabienne. This is not the sort of thing that happens here. You can’t bring your Parisian ways here and expect not to cause a problem. Can I suggest that you write a letter to me assuring me that there will be no further causes for complaint?”

My blood was boiling. So I kept an icy calm.

“Mrs Gordon, can I suggest that you consult your HR expert and a lawyer as soon as possible? I have been recording this on my phone. You have broken the law in half a dozen places, and unless you apologise in writing, I will be suing you and the school for homophobia and racial discrimination.”

“There is no need to take that attitude, young lady!”

“Keep digging,” I said. “If I do not get a formal apology, you will be hearing from the union’s lawyers.”

Collecting myself, I stood up and, turning on my heel, left her, speechless.

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