Viviane had almost got used to her nakedness. But she refused to go to a
restaurant without any clothes. So Marie-Noelle had provided her with
large white cotton trousers, that were nevertheless way to short, a
matching cotton vest and a pair of espadrilles. The evening air was
still warm and Marie-Noelle assured her that a casual outfit was more
than enough for the occasion so Viviane gave in. Marie-Noelle’s brother was a miracle to her. He was a tall handsome
guy in his mid thirties, about six feet five. His dark hairs were cut to
almost military length. The winning grin he bore most of the times stood
in blatant contrast to his sad brown eyes. Seeing him for the first
time, Viviane had the impression that he was slightly absent, his
reactions and comments always a split second too late. First she thought
he was a dreamer, his eyes avoiding direct contact, always fixed to a
point away at the horizon. Either he was drugged or drunk, Viviane
mused. This would make sense with the light swaying that was about his
movements. During dinner, he didn’t eat much. After a few bits of bread and a
forkful of vegetables, he dropped his cutlery and lit another of his
cheap yellow cigarettes. He was a charming host though. Maybe his jokes
were a bit cynic, his punch lines a little tart. Viviane eyed him with
interest. He drank almost as much as Alix, a gone out cigarette glued to
his lower lip. He and his sister made up perfect entertainers and
Viviane was amazed by their literacy and wits. Marie-Noelle, still wearing her sailors jacket, had simply slipped
into a pair of tight white leggings and white sandals for dinner. The
restaurant was quite crowded and the Maitre d’ had led them to a table
on the terrace. Viviane didn’t have much sympathy for the folks that
usually hung around the Cote d’Azur. In recent years, more and more
russians were draining in from their grey cold homelands, buying
whatever real estate they could put their hands onto. Viviane thought
them to be rude and vulgar. But there was also the colourful mixture of
local artists, greek shipping tycoons and swiss models, that made up the
local jet set. Their nice sun tan, the elegant casual clothing and the
tasteful jewellery stood in contrast to the pale russians in their baggy
suits, hung with heavy golden watches. During dinner, neither of her hosts lost a word about actually why
Viviane was with them so she didn’t raise the topic herself. She felt at
ease, watching the crowd, enjoying the conversation. From the sea, a
slight breeze wafted up the beach and the terrace. Viviane felt the
nipples of her breasts harden in the cool air that entered through the
armpit of her vest. She caught a look of Marie-Noelle who sat to her
left. The black haired girl unabashedly peered into the side of her
vest, where, as Viviane realized, her breast was plainly visible. “Are you cold, cherie?” Marie-Noelle asked with mock concern. She
reached through the armpit, placing a warm dry hand on Viviane’s left
breast. Viviane looked at Jean-Yves. He was about to give his opinion
about the films that were shown at the Festival de Cannes, his eyes
wandering restlessly through the crowd while talking. Marie-Noelle took
Viviane’s nipple and gently rolled it between thumb and index while
talking to her brother. “German films are always so serious”, Marie-Noelle replied to her
brother. “There has never been a really funny german comedy.” She gently
tugged Viviane’s nipple. Viviane blushed. She searched the restaurant
with her eyes. Nobody took notice. A waiter appeared to remove the
dishes. Marie-Noelle turned to face Viviane. “It’s that prussian-protestant ethics, that makes them tick”,
Viviane suggested. “Humour is an impasse on the way to god.”
Marie-Noelles finger inside her vest flicked at her nipple. “Ouch!” She pulled the young girl’s hand from her vest, grabbing her
by the wrist. Marie-Noelle gave her a sulking look. “There’s a good deal of triviality that makes up a good comedy”,
Jean-Yves threw in. “It’s not only ethics, but also the self esteem and
the picture, a director believes society has of him. A civilization
unable to laugh about itself cannot transport it’s sense of humour to an
outside spectator.” Suddenly, Marie-Noelles hand grabbed Viviane’s wrist laying on the
arm rest of her chair. A twitch went through her and she stiffened. Her face
changed to an surprised, almost stupid expression. “Are you not well?” Viviane asked, worried. Marie-Noelles mouth was
open, showing her tongue, her eyes turned to a point about a mile behind
Viviane. She drove her fingers deeper into the flesh of Viviane’s wrist. “What has she? is she sick?” Viviane addressed Jean-Yves. With a
bored expression, he stubbed out his cigarette. “No, she’s fine. Why don’t you pick up the phone, Marie?” Viviane
gave him a puzzled look. “What?” “It’s her cellular phone”, Jean-Yves explained. He took another sip
of his wine. “My sister happens to be very fond of her little toys.” He
reached out for his cigarettes. “One day, these gadgets are gonna kill
her.” “And smoking will kill YOU.” Marie-Noelle straightened. She wiped of
a drop of saliva that ran from the corner of her mouth, then reached for
a small leather rucksack at her feet and produced a tiny cellular phone. “Oui?” Perception dawned on Viviane as she regarded Marie-Noelle, who
assumed a cross-legged position in her broad basket chair. A small
bulge stood out against the white cotton at the crotch of her leggings.
Viviane had seen remote alarms for cellular phones already. Usually,
they consisted of a small red LED attached to someone’s clothing that
started blinking when it sensed incoming radio signals. They were quite
useful when hearing the phone’s alarm was either impossible or
undesired. She knew vibro-alarms too. But a combination of both, used in
such an intimate manner, left her stunned. “A bon. No, we send someone to pick you up.” Marie-Noelle formed
the word “Catherine” with silent lips. “Yes, she is. … No, not yet.
Listen, we’ll see about that tomorrow. Yes, I will. Yes. Je t’embrasse.
Oui, salut.” She put the phone down on the table. “Catherine will be at the airport at 10:30 tomorrow morning. We’ll
send the limo.” She looked in Viviane’s astonished face. “Nice toy,
isn’t it?” she said with an innocent smile. She reached into the
waistband of her leggings. “A little spin-off from our research department. I call it the
‘beamer’. I thought, maybe we could manufacture it in small amounts.
I’m sort of a beta tester.” She gave a tingling laugh. Inside her
leggings her hand advanced towards her sex. Viviane could see her
fingers fumbling under the tissue. When her hand reappeared, she held a
small item, shaped like a drop. She handed it to to the elder girl. The
device was about an inch long and half an inch wide, it’s surface made
from smooth, soft grey rubber. It’s one end was prolonged into a thin
curved extension. “That’s the antenna”, Marie-Noelle explained. “See � this fits
between your lips.” She took the device from Viviane palm. “And the
little recess is for your clitoris. The surface is a special compound
that adapts and sticks to your skin.” Her face beamed with pride.
“I designed the casing myself. Wanna try it out?” Viviane made
a deprecating gesture. “Uhm. I don’t think so.”
“Come on, it’s really good fun!” Marie-Noelle was all excited. “It’s
programmed on my cellular phone but you can redirect it to any other
phone. See �” she removed a tiny cover at the end of the antenna. “You
can plug it into the phone to recharge the batteries. And you can adjust
the settings with the keyboard of the phone. This is so cute. C’mon,
give it a try.” Viviane hesitated. “Don’t be a poor sport. You’ll love it.” Marie-Noelle giggled.
With a sigh, Viviane gave in. She couldn’t fight the impression, that
this brat somehow always managed to get her will. But she looked so
cute, all excited, her face gleaming with anticipation. Hesitantly,
Viviane took the ‘beamer’ by it’s tail. “Where are the rest rooms, anyway?” “Why? You don’t need no rest room. Wait, I’ll show you.”
Marie-Noelle leant over the armrest of her chair. With exercised ease
she unbuttoned Viviane’s fly. “Hey, what are ya doing?” Marie-Noelle had already unfastened her leather
belt. “Lift your derriere a little.” Viviane’s cheeks reddened. “But you can’t do that here…”
“Of course I can. Lift your butt.” When Viviane obliged, the girl
quickly drew her trousers down to her knees, almost burying her face in
Viviane’s lap. She took the beamer from Viviane’s fingers. “It won’t hurt a bit. Open your legs a little.” Viviane did so. Her
sparsely haired mound became visible and, peering between the pink folds
of her labia, the bud of her clitoris. “May I?” Marie-Noelle tenderly spread the inner lips. Then she
pushed the appliance in Viviane’s vulva and pressed the soft flesh
against the casing. The thing felt smooth and warm. It’s form
immediately adapted to her anatomy, nesting snugly over her clitoris.
She could almost feel it sucking itself tight. “That’s it.” Marie-Noelle leant back in her chair with a broad,
content smile. Viviane quickly pulled up her trousers, closing the
buttons with trembling fingers. “So. And now?” “Wait and see.” Marie-Noelle reached for her phone and started
pressing a series of keys. Viviane grew anxious. She didn’t really know
what to think about that. Jean-Yves watched the scene from his side of
the table with a bored expression. Alix sat motionless, holding on to
her glass of wine, obviously intoxicated. Viviane was about to make a
comment, when suddenly a lightning struck her crotch and she jerked. “Oops. Sorry, wrong number.” Marie-Noelle giggled. She pressed
another key. Without further warning, the devilish device send a strong
pulsation right into her little bud. The sensation was so strong that
she almost fainted. A stream of pure energy permeated the sensitive skin
of her clitoris and reproduced trough the folds of her sex. She felt
wetness shooting into her vagina, her nerve endings on fire. What little
brain remained to her told her to pull up her arm. Viviane bit in her
hand to suffocate her moan. Her pelvis started bucking. Within seconds
the little console, mercilessly working in her sex, brought her to the
brink of orgasm. As abrupt as it had started the sensation stopped. “What dayya say?” Marie-Noelle watched the elder girl with
anticipation. The latter was not yet able to respond. A little saliva
drooled from the corner of her mouth, her legs trembled. The beamer’s
sudden stop left an almost painful emptiness in her crotch. She had not
reached a climax, but perhaps that was not a mistake, considering where
she was. She had underestimated the potential of the small device.
Viviane angrily inspected the deep marks her teeth had left in her palm. “Maybe you overdid it a little, don’t you think?” Jean-Yves said.
Viviane stretched out a feeble hand. Marie-Noelle gave her the phone
without resistance. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.” She put the phone in her pocket. “Maybe we should all get a little nap.” Jean-Yves checked his watch.
Alix raised her head. “Yeah. Right.” Jean-Yves had paid the bill and escorted the three girls towards the
exit. Viviane was about to squeeze herself through a group of people
that had gathered at the bar, when the beamer unexpectedly came
alive again, attacking her clitoris with a delicious assault. “OOahh…” Viviane reached for a hold, grabbing the shoulder of an
attractive woman in a cocktail dress, standing in front of her. “Excuse me?” The woman turned around, facing Viviane. The girl
writhed with lust. The beamer complied it’s task, wracking havoc on her
composure. Intense vibrations remorselessly permeated trough her sex,
sending waves of pleasure up her spine. “I’m sorry… hnch… I’m
oooOOHHhh…” Her legs were trembling as the climax rose. Her nervous
system was quickly approaching overload. From behind, Marie-Noelle
grabbed her by the waist, supporting her. “It’s the seafood. She’s not used to it”, she said with a polite
smile, dragging the helpless girl towards the exit. Viviane started
shaking, as the climax took hold of her. Marie-Noelle changed her grip,
holding her like a drowning swimmer, her arms crossed over her chest.
Viviane’s climax went on. She panted, babbling incoherently. They had
almost reached the door. Without interruption she fell into the abyss of
another climax. “Arrghhh… my pocket… ah…oohmygod… my POCKET…ah ah ah AAAAHHH!” “What? Ah! Yeah, right.” Marie-Noelle supported Viviane’s back with
her knees and reached into the pocket of her trousers. She pulled out
the phone. “Yeah. Who is it. …no, no, not yet. Call me later. Or better, call
me tomorrow. Yeah. Bye.” She pressed a key. Viviane’s head hung on her
chest. Marie-Noelle assumed her hold on the girl again and dragged her
out of the restaurant. “What’s up?” the waiting Jean-Yves demanded. “Henry called.” Jean-Yves burst out into a hearty laughter.