Chapter 7: Fiona at the Cannes Film Festival

She sat under the concealing air blower like some alien visitor receiving a thought transplant for human interaction. Fiona was wearing her Capri pants with the zebra pattern that she were certain accentuated the still just slightly drooping cheeks of her bum.

This was the first time she had been in this particular beauty parlor. Her favorite one, the one on High Street was closed because the building was being torn down to make way for some high-priced apartments. Her usual beautician, Dolly, had decided to retire and probably that was good because her vision was beginning to fail and Fiona noticed some glaring errors in her hair-do. Still, some of these young girls working in this establishment looked like they had just gotten out of school and didn't know when a cock was in or out.

Fiona knew she looked a decade younger than her shocking true age of 65, but she constantly strived to maintain a modicum of sparkle to offset the descending shroud of aging reality. The magazine on her lap was filled with gossip about this celebrity and that celebrity and she was convinced none of it was true but it made for interesting speculation. Strangely, she was looking at an editorial piece about the Cannes Film Festival starting in just a week when she overheard one of the "fresh young things" giggling about the kinky activities behind the scenes during the festival. Her interest was piqued and she read the article with more interest.

A month had passed since her excursion to the "Land of the Pharaoh's". The time had passed quickly and she was reasonably back to normal after the nightly orgies in the Valley of the Kings. The last repairs she had to make were to her uncompromising hair which had suffered untold depravities in the sand and suffered silently under the hot Egyptian sun.

After 30 long and boring years of living like a nun with a totally unappreciative spouse, Fiona had broken the bonds of decorum immediately after the funeral by spreading her legs at every opportunity that came her way. One of the benefits of spousal disregard was the effectiveness of her exceptionally tight pussy to draw copious loads of male juices from astonished younger men. Her dedicated attention to her gardening had managed to keep her figure in excellent shape and she attributed the lack of droop in her bum and her still slightly perky nipples to the fact she had never borne a child due to her husband's lack of sufficient "swimmers" to get the job done.

From their name tags, Fiona determined that the girl with the horrible blue streaks in her hair was called Doris and the girl with all the giggles was called Amy. They both looked to be distressingly young, probably only 19 or 20 at the very most. It was very noticeable that they were much engrossed in each other just from the way that they managed to brush against each other in the course of tending the customers in their care. Fiona had become something of an expert in such observations at a very late age and she rued her many decades of silly ignorance in all matters of a sexual nature.

Apparently the "blue" haired Doris was importuning Amy to accompany her on a weekend trip to the festival to see the "Stars" up close and personal. Amy was visibly tempted but kept coming up with excuses why such a trip would be either inconvenient or conflicted with other plans.

The article she was reading mentioned several notorious "orgies" that had taken place in previous festivals mentioning the names of the participants like a line-up for some football game involving celebrities. Only it was not a football game but the sometimes serious business of full service copulation and depraved fetishes. Fiona found her hairless slit was coming to life in the air-blowing chair and she hoped her zebra-striped tights would conceal her wet anticipation of kinky delights.

"Miss, did you see this article about the festival?"

Fiona was addressing the pretty blue haired petite girl with the interesting shade of semi-orange lips that looked constantly wet with some type of commercial application. She thought to herself that she must ask the girl what she used to get that interesting effect

"Thanks, ma'am, I do so ever want to go there but my friend Amy is not one to go traveling much. She has never been further than the next manor."

Doris removed the plastic and metal monstrosity from the top of Fiona's head and began to stroke her hair-do with artistic flair. Fiona was impressed with her skills and the way she kept rubbing her neck and shoulders with her softly yielding tummy. She had discovered quite late in life the advantages of keeping an open mind when it came to bed partners with enthusiastic techniques.

Fiona invited both of the girls to her place for a "wine tasting" of some of the vintage wines mentioned in the article. She told them that she had a great collection of photos of the previous festivals. Of course, it was a white lie but she did have a silly sister-in-law with a large scrapbook of the festival that she often hauled out to bore her dinner party guests with celebrity erotic peccadillos that were for the most part entirely fabricated.

A quick stop at the spirits shop and she was well-equipped with a half-dozen wines mentioned with great rave reviews in the magazine. She hoped the reviews were accurate and not just some figment of the imagination by some writing hack putting words on a sheet of paper to make some money.

The girls showed up at her door the next evening wearing casual clothes and in the case of Doris no knickers because she liked to "be free". Amy was a little up tight at first because she tended to keep to herself or just act in her role as Doris's little slave girl.

By the time they had uncorked the last bottle of wine, even demure little Amy was opening her shirt to show her new black silk bra that "pushed up" her pretty little boobs into prominent display. She invited Fiona to touch them assuring her that they were her original "God given" tits and that she was very proud of them. Fiona had to giggle with sincere laughter and the effect of the delicious wines from France. Doris reached over and unhooked Amy's bra and encouraged Fiona to cup the perky boobs in her palms and give then a "good jiggle". For some reason, they all thought that to be very funny and fell into each other's arms having a real girl to girl laugh. One thing led to another and Fiona found she had Amy's knickers clutched in her hand and she brought them up to her nostrils to inhale the sweet girl's essence.

Fiona tasted Doris's wet-looking orange lipstick and was surprised it did indeed taste a little like a fresh orange on her tongue. She was so involved with her mouth to mouth activities with Doris that she was only peripherally aware of Amy pushing her knees open so she could partake of her wine sprinkled recently shaved pussy. The inquisitive lips at both ends of her body set poor Fiona off into orgasmic overdrive and she whimpered and pleaded like a silly schoolgirl being bullied on the playground.