Read Online Learning Curves 1 - French Cooking 101 by Olivia Rigal - Free Book Online
Authors: Olivia Rigal
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that,” she answered with her best bedroom voice. Putting her overnight bag on his knees, she used it as a screen as she pressed her other hand on his crotch. She let it rest there for the five seconds he took to go from limp to rock solid. Was there was a world record for getting an erection? She stood and asked, “Shall we go?”
With slightly dilated pupils, George stood and walked with Mary, holding her bag in front of him to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. She observed him from the corner of her eye while trying to look perfectly innocent. They walked to the taxi stand on the street corner.
As George held the taxi door for her, he whispered through clenched teeth, “You have no idea what you just got yourself into.”
Mary’s heart skipped a beat, but she just smiled sweetly. She was very good at keeping a straight face. She’d learned that the hard way in the delivery room. The more dangerous the situation, the calmer she had to appear. So actually, the challenge was fun! She waited for him to sit in the car with the bag on his knees. Then she put a hand on his thigh—very high up his leg. “You’re right, I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out. I would love for you to tell me about it here, but before you do, I suggest you check if the driver speaks English or not. We wouldn’t want to distract him and cause an accident, right?”
❦
CHAPTER TWELVE
George
GEORGE GAVE HIS ADDRESS to the driver in his heavily accented French, and the man answered in English. He was a Tamil, and his English was accented but fluent. Probably better than George’s French. So much for telling Mary what he planned to do to her once they were home. Too bad. He would have loved to see how long she could remain impassive while he talked. Oh man, the woman was driving him nuts. She could put on a holier-than-thou look while playing with him. It was a definite turn-on. If she wanted to play games, he wouldn’t let her down.
So while having a conversation with the taxi driver about the latest political developments in Sri Lanka and the ethnical conflicts that tore apart his country, George showed Mary he could play too. Sliding his right hand under her skirt, he tugged at her panties. She obliged by lifting her hips long enough for him to bring the panties down to her knees. She did that while looking straight ahead as if she was doing nothing more than enjoying the Paris scenery through the window of the taxi.
She remained calm as his hand slowly crawled back up. When he almost reached the apex of her legs, she shook her knees to make her panties fall to her ankles and gain some freedom of movement. That left him enough room to move farther up to the moist curls between her thighs. A gentle stroke, and he noticed an increase in the speed of her breathing. A soft pressure of a finger into the sensitive crease, and she held her breath. He explored further, and she let out a little moan.
The driver didn’t notice. He was rambling about what he considered to be the wrongful interference of the Buddhist Monks. His mind was back home, thousands of miles away from the foreplay in his backseat. George realized his building was right around the corner. His experiment had to stop. He withdrew his hand from under her skirt.
Noticing the disappointed look on Mary’s face, he said, “We’re almost home.” He picked up her underwear from the taxi floor, rolled the beige lace in a small ball, and put it in his pocket. He paid the taxi and helped her get out.
Giving her his keys, he said, “I have an errand to run. Would you please wait for me upstairs?”
Mary raised her eyebrows and asked, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“Nope, can’t wait. We’re out. We need a fresh box,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, right. A fresh box it is.” She held her skirt down as the breeze got a little stronger. Turning around to enter the building, she added for his ears only, “Though I enjoyed how
With slightly dilated pupils, George stood and walked with Mary, holding her bag in front of him to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. She observed him from the corner of her eye while trying to look perfectly innocent. They walked to the taxi stand on the street corner.
As George held the taxi door for her, he whispered through clenched teeth, “You have no idea what you just got yourself into.”
Mary’s heart skipped a beat, but she just smiled sweetly. She was very good at keeping a straight face. She’d learned that the hard way in the delivery room. The more dangerous the situation, the calmer she had to appear. So actually, the challenge was fun! She waited for him to sit in the car with the bag on his knees. Then she put a hand on his thigh—very high up his leg. “You’re right, I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out. I would love for you to tell me about it here, but before you do, I suggest you check if the driver speaks English or not. We wouldn’t want to distract him and cause an accident, right?”
❦
CHAPTER TWELVE
George
GEORGE GAVE HIS ADDRESS to the driver in his heavily accented French, and the man answered in English. He was a Tamil, and his English was accented but fluent. Probably better than George’s French. So much for telling Mary what he planned to do to her once they were home. Too bad. He would have loved to see how long she could remain impassive while he talked. Oh man, the woman was driving him nuts. She could put on a holier-than-thou look while playing with him. It was a definite turn-on. If she wanted to play games, he wouldn’t let her down.
So while having a conversation with the taxi driver about the latest political developments in Sri Lanka and the ethnical conflicts that tore apart his country, George showed Mary he could play too. Sliding his right hand under her skirt, he tugged at her panties. She obliged by lifting her hips long enough for him to bring the panties down to her knees. She did that while looking straight ahead as if she was doing nothing more than enjoying the Paris scenery through the window of the taxi.
She remained calm as his hand slowly crawled back up. When he almost reached the apex of her legs, she shook her knees to make her panties fall to her ankles and gain some freedom of movement. That left him enough room to move farther up to the moist curls between her thighs. A gentle stroke, and he noticed an increase in the speed of her breathing. A soft pressure of a finger into the sensitive crease, and she held her breath. He explored further, and she let out a little moan.
The driver didn’t notice. He was rambling about what he considered to be the wrongful interference of the Buddhist Monks. His mind was back home, thousands of miles away from the foreplay in his backseat. George realized his building was right around the corner. His experiment had to stop. He withdrew his hand from under her skirt.
Noticing the disappointed look on Mary’s face, he said, “We’re almost home.” He picked up her underwear from the taxi floor, rolled the beige lace in a small ball, and put it in his pocket. He paid the taxi and helped her get out.
Giving her his keys, he said, “I have an errand to run. Would you please wait for me upstairs?”
Mary raised her eyebrows and asked, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“Nope, can’t wait. We’re out. We need a fresh box,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, right. A fresh box it is.” She held her skirt down as the breeze got a little stronger. Turning around to enter the building, she added for his ears only, “Though I enjoyed how
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