La Suite by M. P. Franck Page B

out.”
    “Fair enough.
Can you pick me up?”
    They made
arrangements and Odile collected Gaëlle from the corner of her
street. She drove them across the Rhine and out into the country to
what looked like a very traditional German inn.
    “Not so
Turkish,” Gaëlle commented with a smile, but once inside, she had
to revise her opinion. The interior had rugs, brass decorations and
Turkish music. The round tables were nicely separated by
Mediterranean plants, giving each one a large degree of privacy.
The food was authentic and good, too. Gaëlle made a mental note of
the place for future reference.
    Odile clearly
enjoyed Gaëlle’s company. A few days later, Gaëlle was just
finishing a workout at the gym when she felt her mobile phone
vibrating.
    “I know we ate
together just the other day, Gaëlle, but can you come round this
evening?”
    Gaëlle looked
at her watch. “It’s evening already. Do you want me to come
straight round or to have my shower first?”
    “Come as you
are.”
    Gaëlle stripped
off her shorts, knickers and tee shirt and covered up with the
jogging top and trousers that she’d worn to drive to the gym. She
was very sweaty, but thought that Odile sounded urgent. Ten minutes
later she was parking outside Odile’s house in the suburbs. Odile
was at the door, looking excited. She ushered Gaëlle inside and fed
her pizza
    “Actually,” she
said as she cleared the table, “I’ve got you here under false
pretences. What I really want to show you is this.” She put a
cardboard box on the table and fished several lengths of plastic
tubing out of it. A little container of glass cylinders
followed.
    “Do you
recognize what it is?” Odile asked. “Of course you do. It’s my very
own pumping kit and I wanted you to be here to see me use it for
the first time. Will you indulge me? It has a manual pump, nothing
like as sophisticated as Barbara’s, but still…”
    Gaëlle smiled.
Odile’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Of course,” she said.
    They went into
the sitting room, where Gaëlle sat down on the sofa. Odile stood in
front of her and undressed. She was a little shorter than Gaëlle
and less slim, with shortish dark hair and nice brown eyes. She
wasn’t wearing a bra and Gaëlle could see that Odile’s nipples were
already erect. She noted that here, yet again, was a woman much
better endowed in that department than herself. Odile’s pubic hair
was more luxuriant, too. Odile settled herself on the floor between
Gaëlle’s knees, her head leaning back into the crutch of Gaëlle’s
jogging pants.
    “Is this okay?”
she asked.
    Gaëlle
nodded.
    Odile fitted
the hand pump to one end of the tubing and clipped two little glass
cylinders to the bifurcated other end. She held the cylinders over
her nipples, turned her face up towards Gaëlle and said, “This is
where you come in. I can’t do the pump and hold these in place at
the same time.”
    Gaëlle took the
pump, which looked like the hand-grip control of a petrol pump, and
began to squeeze it, drawing Odile’s nipples into the tube. Their
pink colouring became darker as the pressure increased. Gaëlle
stopped pumping and Odile pulled at the cylinders. They both came
off with a little plop.
    “Not tight
enough. Just keep pumping until I say,” Odile said. “Don’t watch. I
want to see how much I can take.”
    Gaëlle looked
away and worked the hand pump, ignoring Odile’s occasional gasps,
until at last, Odile whimpered, “Stop.”
    Gaëlle looked
down at Odile’s breasts and gulped. Odile’s nipples were easily as
long as the end joint on Gaëlle’s forefinger. They were purple and
most of the areola had also been sucked into the tubes. Odile
unclipped the tubes from the cylinders and asked.
    “Will you play
with them for me?”
    Gaëlle leaned
forward and lifted the cylinders. Odile moaned. Gaëlle took hold of
the cylinders and used them to lift Odile’s breasts. Odile breathed
heavily. When Gaëlle gently jiggled the