Chapter 9: One Into Two Goes Twice as Nice

Over the following months Chloe and I met every other day/night depending on my availability and the non-availability of Lorenzo Masséna at the apartment in Quai du Port. Chloe was still sleeping with the bastard although he had punched her senseless and then raped her best friend. However Chloe did give me quite a different version of the event than Amy had.

We met more times at her former home in Chemin des Carriers except when Masséna was absent at night on duty, or more often than not on night manoeuvres with one of his mistresses. I would sneak into the apartment in Quai du Port where Chloe would gleefully violate her marriage vows in the marital bed, and/or on the marital carpet, under the marital shower, in the marital bath and up against the marital walls. She also liked to fellate me when using the elevator to the third, top, floor of the apartment block where the Masséna’s marital apartment was situated.

Although Chloe’s apartment building had been modernised and upgraded the original elevator was still in commission. It was first decade of the 20^th Century vintage and moved with the speed of an arthritic geriatric on Valium. The elevator shaft was a latticed metal structure open to view, as was the passenger carrying cage, and being gobbled while ascending was a white knuckle ride as far as I was concerned. Any resident using the stairs or even exiting their apartment would have a close and unobstructed view of Chloe’s mouth clamped around my penis as the elevator rose slowly and majestically upwards. I think Chloe revelled in the public act. It certainly turned her on to a more rumbustious display of sexual behaviour than she had previously shown me. I think it was also around this time that my hair began to turn grey.

Did I feel any shame in committing adultery with a colleague’s wife in his own bed?

‘Did I ‘eck as like’ (A Northern English saying that means ‘not bloody likely’ in Southern English). I relished, revelled, exulted, whenever I slid the beefy bayonet into Chloe Masséna; hearing the moans and gasps and shrill shrieks of pleasure emanating from her when pinned to the bed, or writhing under me on the carpet, or leg-wrapped around me up against the apartment wall. The sheer physical, animalistic, pleasure of being buried ball deep in a warm, wet, sucking, grasping quim was heightened tenfold knowing I was putting the horns on Lorenzo Masséna with every thrust of my supercharged loins and rampant penis.

There are many mantras drilled into a legionnaire during his training. ‘March or die’. Never give up’. ‘Fight to the last breath, bullet, and man’. But the most emphasized one was ‘Always look out for your comrade in arms.’ This covers many aspects but the basic tenet is never betraying your comrade. Have his back and he will have yours. You rely on a comrade to pull you out of the merde and he relies on you to do the same. You must never sleep with a comrade’s woman, and never, never, ever, sleep with a comrade’s wife. That is the most despicable of betrayals, and anyone who does such a terrible thing is a festering scumsucker of the lowest order. It is more heinous a crime than missing a Camerone Day parade. I had already sinned, and suffered the consequences, of not appearing on a Camerone Day parade and if caught shagging the wife of my superior officer I dread to think how long I would be confined in The Cooker.

None the less I continued to do what I should never do and relished every minute spent in adulterous couplings with Chloe Masséna.

Chloe was seeking to divorce Lorenzo Masséna for his adultery and did not want him counter claiming for the same offence by her so we needed to be circumspect when meeting. However Chloe often insisted we met in the marital apartment, I think it was something of a kinky turn on for her. I thought it was a dangerous ploy, foolhardy in fact, to conduct our affair at the apartment she shared with Masséna when her former house was available, but she was quite unconcerned.

“Lorenzo is paying the apartment manager, Claude, to report on who visits me, but I have persuaded Claude to have the eye of Admiral Nelson.” She said

“You’ve given him more money to report no visitors?”

She grinned mischievously. “As the pen is mightier than the sword sometimes la bouche is mightier than l’argent!”

I pondered her remark for a moment before the centime dropped. “You gave him a blow job?” I was surprised and not a little angry, and jealous.

“Yep. Once a week. And I’ve got a photo of the first transaction so Claude won’t renege on the deal. If his wife knew where his prick has been she would cut it off, assuming she could find the miniscule organ.”

Most times we met for adulterous coupling at her old house in Chemin du Carriers, but it wasn’t exactly like old times as Chloe wanted rougher sex than previously. I did the best I could without going into whips and ball-gags, but we did use some aspects of bondage. She liked to be tied up and blindfolded, but slapping and pulling hair was a no no as far as I was concerned, although I acquiesced when Chloe begged me to spank her. There is a certain sexual frisson when smacking beautiful rounded buttocks and watching creamy white skin redden to a rosy pink and ending in a glowing, setting sun red, while a female leaking love juice squirms over your knees and genitals. It did add a certain je ne sais quoi to the subsequent carnal proceedings, but I refused point blank to choke her during sex. I went along with her fancies and admit it did press a few buttons I didn’t know I had, but I steered clear of inflicting pain on her. One of us bleeding during sex was enough as Chloe would rip my back and bite my shoulders when climaxing. I think her nails were longer and sharper than before.

I say ‘sex’ as we didn’t make love. Chloe and I enjoyed sexual congress but never called what we did ‘love making’. It was shagging, screwing, humping, plugging, prodding, and all those many other words used when a male and female join their genitalia together without any other reason than the pure enjoyment it affords them both. Chloe had changed over time, perhaps I had too, but she was definitely more outré and wanted me to do things that she had never contemplated or experienced before meeting Masséna. She urged me to be whipped, spanked, have my nipples clamped and my arse stuffed with a butt plug but I declined her offer.

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Philippe. You will be taken to a new level of pleasure.”

“I can’t see how pain can lead to pleasure,” I said. “Pain warns you not to carry on with what you are doing else it will lead to injury.”

“Pain and pleasure are close neighbours; one leads to the other, and on the cusp it is something different to both.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it, but I’m sticking to what I know. And what I never had I won’t miss.”

She smiled at me as if I were a child. “In many ways we are quite similar, Philippe, but in this case we differ.”

“I don’t think we are similar. You are single minded and determined. You manipulate people and are really good at it. I just go with the flow, whereas you decide where the flow goes.”

“You make me sound like an ogre,” she pouted.

“No, you are someone who knows her own mind and I admire you for that.”

I truly liked and admired Chloe; she was intelligent, quick witted, and had a sense of humour akin to mine. She knew where she was going, and God help anyone who got in her way, which was why I was surprised by her version of events when attacked and punched unconscious by Masséna after telling him she wanted a divorce.

Chloe’s version was that Masséna hadn’t punched her. He did slap her, and as she jerked back from the slap she hit her head on an open kitchen cabinet door and knocked herself out.

“Lorenzo was beside himself with contrition after it happened,” Chloe said. “He apologised, begged my forgiveness, and swore he didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“And you believed him?”

“Yes. I did. He admitted slapping me. He slaps me when shagging me and it was no harder than that. I banged my head on an open cupboard door when I instinctively drew my head back.”

“What about him raping Amy?”

“Amy had been asking for it for...”

“No one asks to be raped, Chloe, and you were unconscious.”

“I was dazed, not completely out. Amy had been flirting with Lorenzo for days She’s attracted to him but was wary of upsetting me if she showed she really wanted him to shag her.”

“But Amy’s a lesbian!”

“She’s bi-sexual like me, like most women, in fact like most men.”

“So Amy wasn’t raped?”

“It was what you legionnaires call ‘An assault with a friendly weapon’. When I fell to the floor Amy leapt at Lorenzo in my defence. She was wearing a short skirt with her tits practically tumbling out of a flimsy blouse. Lorenzo reacted as any red-blooded man would. In a trice she was on her back with her knickers ripped off, her legs spread, and Lorenzo up to the hilt of his dick in her snatch. I bet she loved it. Of course, she was concerned about me and tried to push him off her, which made it easier for Lorenzo to give her the full works. The more she bucked and wriggled to get him off her the deeperhe went into her the more she got off. Lorenzo said she came but he withdrew and got up from her before he reached his climax. The action of a gentleman I would say; most men would have carried on shafting her ‘till they came. Lorenzo’s gentlemanly action saved Amy having to mop up a load of man mess.”

I didn’t completely buy her story and wondered why she should be so defensive of Masséna, especially after telling him she wanted a divorce. She saw my scepticism and gave me a fuller insight into the Masséna s’ marriage.

“After Amy left the apartment Lorenzo and I discussed the divorce calmly, like two adults,” Chloe said. “Lorenzo intends to enter politics after he leaves the army in a couple of years’ time. His father has contacts that would soon have Lorenzo selected, and then elected, as a Deputy in the National Assembly. However, being divorced is viewed by some voters as something of a black mark, especially if he is seen to be the guilty, adulterous, party in the divorce.”

“So why not admit to adultery yourself? That way you get the divorce and he gets the sympathy.”

She shook her head. “No, that won’t work for me. I have plans that would not come to fruition if I’m named as the guilty party in a divorce. There are other reasons other than adultery that one can get a divorce; unreasonable behaviour and irreconcilable differences, but they are like ‘Not Proven’ in Scottish law, both parties are tainted and thought to be equally responsible for the marriage break up. In any divorce petition I have to appear as pure as driven snow rather than as well used slush!”

“You lost me when you mentioned Scottish law,” I said, wondering how Chloe would know anything about such an arcane subject.

“It was something Amy told me. There is a legal idiosyncrasy In Scotland in that there are three verdicts a jury can deliver; Guilty, Not Guilty and Not Proven. That last one says in effect, ‘You might be and probably are Guilty but we can’t prove it so we have to let you go.”

“Wouldn’t that be reasonable doubt? Surely if a court can’t prove guilt then one is innocent?”

“That is why it is so idiosyncratic.”

“If neither you nor Lorenzo want to be the guilty party in the divorce why not share the blame?”

“We both need to be the innocent party for our future plans but as Lorenzo adulterated before I did I think he should accept all the blame...”

“Adulterated! Isn’t that something to do with milk and fruit juice?” I was being facetious.

Chloe came back with a quick and witty reply. “Isn’t adultery something to do with man milk and woman juice?”

“Smartarse,” I said and slapped her bum. We were naked in bed and the slap led to another round of sexual activity.

“Have you an investigator following Lorenzo to prove he is adulterating before he catches us on the job? It can only a matter of time,” I said about an hour later after regaining wind in lung and strength in limb, and I leave you to guess which ‘limb.’

“I’m working on it, but let’s just enjoy being back together and having super satisfying sex. I’m visiting Toulouse later this week; I have something to do there that will impinge on my future plans.”

“Such as?”

“Paul Devereaux’s mother, Madame Richelieu-Devereaux, has pancreatic cancer and has no more than six months left to live. I’m contacting Paul...”

“What on earth for? I thought that relationship was dead and buried.”

“Not necessarily. By the time his mother is dead and buried I hope to have resurrected the relationship but need to be either divorced or in process of getting a divorce on the grounds of my husband’s adultery.” She got from the bed. “I’ll give you more details as I get further into the plot.”

“Plot? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“How about scheme?”

“Much better. Have we time for a shared shower?” I asked.

“‘Fraid not, sweetheart. Lorenzo will be home in an hour, no doubt reeking of pussy juice. I wish I could get a sample as evidence. Perhaps we will manage a sex under the shower session when we meet next Thursday. I’ll ring and leave a message at the Sergents’ Mess if my plans are changed and I can’t make it.” She quickly pulled on her jeans and tee-shirt, leaving her bra and knickers off and stuffing them in her shoulder bag...

“Lock up after you, there’s a dear.” She gave me a length of her tongue and was gone.

I rang the bell of number 4 Chemin des Carriers on Thursday and was surprised and not a little concerned when the door was opened by Amy.

“Chloe tried phoning the Sergents’ Mess to tell you she couldn’t make it but the line was engaged. She then rang me to let you know she’s staying in Toulouse for two weeks,” Amy explained. “Chloe said I can entertain you in her absence.” Amy blushed when she said ‘entertain’ and I wondered if she meant what I hoped she meant.

She had on a short skirt that showed off a splendid pair of legs and a skimpy blouse that showed off an equally splendid pair of tits. I wondered if this was the outfit she had been wearing when allegedly raped by Lorenzo Masséna. If so then there were mitigating circumstances for his heinous behaviour as Amy was sex on a stick.

Less than ten minutes later Amy was sex on my prick.

I slid quietly out of the bed. Amy was breathing deeply, fast asleep, and little wonder after the hectic night we had shared. As I pulled on my trousers she stirred. “What time is it?” she said, in that, drowsy, sleepy, sexy voice women have after being well and truly shagged.

“Five a.m. I have to get back to barracks.” I leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. She twisted her body, wrapped warm arms around my neck and planted her soft lips on mine. For several seconds I savoured her sweet lips. Her tongue tentatively explored my mouth but knowing this would lead to another hour of sex I reluctantly unclasped her arms.

“I have to be on parade early else I would stay,” I said.

“I could make you breakfast before you go.”

What a sweet girl. Half asleep yet still willing to get out of her warm, cosy, bed to get me breakfast. Chloe just grunts and rolls over when I leave her bed of an early morning. I kissed Amy on her cheek. “I’ll see you this evening, unless you have to get back to Carcassonne today?”

“No. I’ve brought some paperwork with me and can look it over just as well here as in the office.”

Walking back to barracks cleared my head and gave me time to think of the events of the previous evening and night. I had been surprised, pleasantly surprised, how eager Amy had been to indulge in full on sex. I thought I would have to coax and tempt her to go to bed with me but she was the instigator of all that occurred. In fact she seduced me rather than the other way on. And my erotic day dream of having Amy on the stairs doggie fashion became a reality!

I assumed Amy was a part time lesbian and had only engaged in girl on girl activity with Chloe when first up at University. She might not have been as experienced as Chloe when it came to sex with men but she had enough of the basic moves to give me a night to remember. Amy told me that at university she hadn’t been able to talk to a man without thinking he wanted to rape her, and she was probably correct, but she also hadn’t realised what a sexy, available, girl she appeared to the undergrads. She dressed and acted in a provocative, ‘Here it is come and get it’, style and then, when a man came on strongly to her, lost her confidence and bolted. She soon had a reputation as a prick teaser and was raped several times, as well as once being gang banged. From then on she eschewed men, but her underlying strong sex drive soon had her taking part in girl on girl activity. Amy fell in love with Chloe at first sight and soon became her lover; Chloe, of course, swung both ways and played the field but knew Amy was always available, and grateful.

For the following two weeks Amy and I spent many more nights together and when Chloe returned from Toulouse I had two lustful females to keep satisfied, not that I complained about the duty that had fallen on me as I was living the life most men can only dream of. However filling two receptive quims (and mouths and arses at times) with man juice did take it out of me, in both a literal and a physical sense, and I suffered when on a 20 20 run and in the gym doing circuit training. However that was a small price to pay for the untrammelled pleasure and enjoyment the two girls gave me, which I hope was reciprocated.

We had a routine of sorts; I was shared between the two women. Note that I said shared between two women not shared with two women. After the first few weeks of me servicing Chloe and Amy separately I hoped we would move up the next rung on the sexual practises ladder and suggested to Chloe of having a threesome as we got on so well with each other.

Chloe was not interested. “No way, Philippe. When Amy and I are getting down and dirty together the last thing we want is a rigid rampant penis butting. And any way I think it would freak Amy out, she is a bit vanilla in her taste...”

“She tastes of lemon; zingy, zesty, and tingly on the tongue,” I said.

“Not her love juice but what she does and doesn’t like in the bedroom department.”

“She’s a fast learner.” I said with some authority. Chloe, quick as lighting put two and two together and got the correct answer.

“You lecherous littlebugger! You’ve been around the world with her, in her bum hole and her mouth?”

I nodded, sheepish and proud at the same time

“Well, I think you must be the first man to have accomplished that. Maybe I have underestimate Amy’s appetite for the avant garde.”

“Does that mean...?”

“No it does not. A threesome is off limits, and in any case we haven’t a bed large enough to accommodate three writhing bodies, not here or at the Quai du Port apartment.”

I spent less time with Amy than with Chloe as Amy’s office was in Carcassonne, and at times her work took her away to Narbonne, Montpellier or Toulouse. When she had court work in Castelnaudary she would stay in the house in Chemin des Carriers. Chloe made sure the bed sheets were changed as she and I also used the house for fornication when Masséna was staying in the Quai du Port apartment. Chloe openly admitted that some nights she slept with Masséna.

“Lorenzo is my husband, Philippe, and although he is a two timing son of a bitch he knows what I like and is prepared to do it!” When Masséna was at home Chloe would give me time off and I would spend the time with Amy should she be available. Amy would always make sure she was by rescheduling her work load, which boosted my self-confidence no end knowing Amy would take time, trouble, and no doubt extra work, in order to meet me. It also gave me a sense of guilt in that I was usually busily stuffing her lover’s muffin when I wasn’t busily stuffing hers.

Another reason Chloe gave for sleeping with her two timing spouse (what she said about him was also true of her of course) was to check his clothing.

“After I’ve shagged him to exhaustion and sleep, or he’s gone back to work, I go through his clothes looking for evidence of his adultery.”

“What sort of evidence? A pair of stained knickers stuffed in his jacket pocket?”

She slapped me playfully but still quite painfully. “No, but maybe a note from a mistress that he forgot to destroy.”

We were lying naked and sated on the sofa in the lounge of the apartment in Quai du Port. Chloe slid from underneath me and disappeared into the utility room, returning with a man’s shirt in her hand.

“Have a sniff of this,” she said and thrust the shirt in my face. There was a hint of an exotic perfume lingering on the collar of the shirt that I couldn’t identify. “It’s Sinful Obsession,” Chloe informed me. “A bucket of Chanel Number Nine costs no more than a thimble full of this perfume. The shirt reeked of it last night, as did Lorenzo when we had sex. A female wearing this is not some street girl but a high class courtesan. Lorenzo must be spending a fortune, the stupid sex-mad bugger. He can have me for free but he goes skulking around spending his hard earned money...”

“He has plenty salted away,” I said, and immediately wished I had kept my mouth shut. By a dint of persuasion, mainly by hand, mouth, and her other attractions, I gave Chloe the story of Lorenzo Masséna, aka Andre d’Essilng, and his theft of army property.

“How do you know all this?” She asked after I finished talking.

I explained I was part of an inspection team that had uncovered the fraud.

“Where has he stashed the money?”

“It’s in a bank in Vaduz, that’s in –”

“I know where Vaduz is, Philippe. We spent part of our honeymoon in Liechtenstein. I wondered why he spent a whole day at a bank, not that I complained, since while he was counting his ill-gotten gains I was already spending some of it. I spent a fortune on a new outfit in Vaduz.”

Chloe showed me something she had found in the pocket of Masséna’s jacket. It was a Marseille Metro day return ticket from Marseille Sainte Charles to Périer dated three days earlier. I recognised the name of the destination. Périer metro station was a block from the Hotel Kaliphornika in Rue de Cluny and was the one I used when visiting the place. There was the slight chance Masséna was still taking his pickups; street girls or high end escorts, for kinky sex sessions at the hotel. Then I remembered he had been banned from the hotel. However that was some time ago and why else would he be in that area of Marseille? Of course there might be other hotels in the area that catered for a similar type of customer as Masséna, and if there were then the hotel staff at the Kaliphornika would surely know.