I blink awake, soft golden light spilling through the gauzy curtains. The warm body next to me stirs slightly, and I turn to study his peaceful face. Who is he, really? What dreams drift through his mind as he sleeps?
Shaking off my reverie, I carefully extricate myself from the tangled sheets. The wooden floorboards are cool beneath my bare feet as I tiptoe around the unfamiliar room, gathering my scattered clothes.
I frantically search for my bra, mumble curses under my breath. I can’t go to work without it and I don’t have time to go home and get another one. My fingers brush against various objects in the dimly lit room, knocking them over in my haste. Finally giving up, I let out a resigned sigh and slip on yesterday’s silk blouse, cringing as the fabric
leaves nothing to the imagination, clearly outlining the shape of my breasts and nipples – It feels like today is gearing up to be one of those days..
The mixed scent of Alex’s and my perfume mingles with the musk of erotic adventures on all my clothing. My reflection in the mirror reveals wrinkled fabric and disheveled brown shoulder long hair.
I take a moment to freshen up, pulling out a lip gloss and spritzing myself with perfume from my purse. I quickly touch up my eyeliner before deciding that this is the best I can do for today.
As I hurry down the stairs, I can’t help wondering what my parents would think of this. Luc and Marianne’s faces swim in my mind – their warm smiles tinged with disappointment.
I scold myself for being silly, muttering «This is not what you should be thinking about after a night like that, Esme» with a smug grin on my face.
The chill morning air hits me as I step outside, and I take a deep breath. Time to focus. I have a wedding to plan, after all. No room for distractions or regrets. Just another day in the life of Esme, event planner extraordinaire. Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll actually believe it.
I catch my reflection in a shop window and pause, smoothing down my silk blouse and I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
« Well, Esme,» I mutter to myself, «you’ve really outdone yourself this time.»
A mix of embarrassment and defiance washes over me as I stride down the cobblestone streets. The early morning bustle envelops me – the aroma of fresh bread from the corner boulangerie, the clatter of chairs as café owners set up their terraces.
I weave through the crowd, my mind already racing with today’s to-do list. «Seating charts, floral arrangements, catering confirmations,» I recite under my breath, a mantra to keep me focused.
A familiar voice cuts through my thoughts. «Esme! Ça va?»
I turn to see Camille, my younger sister, camera in hand as always. Her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance.
«Late night?» she asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.
I feel my cheeks flush. «Something like that. Shouldn’t you be in class?»
She waves dismissively. «Early morning photo shoot by the Meuse. The light was perfect.» Camille leans in, lowering her voice. »So, who’s the lucky guy?»
«None of your business,» I retort, but can’t help smiling. «Don’t you dare tell Maman about this.»
Camille mimes zipping her lips. «Your secret’s safe with me. But you owe me details later!»
«Never in a million years Cami!” I give her a look, like an older sister judging her younger sibling. She’s only 17; no need to corrupt her innocent mind with my escapades even though, I know she is seeing a guy from her school.
As I arrive at the office, the familiar hum of ringing phones and clacking keyboards greets me. I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. Just act natural, I tell myself.
«Morning, Esme!» my colleague Sophie calls out. «Oh, love the blouse! Very chic.»
I force a smile, silently praying my nipples aren’t as visible as they feel. «Thanks, Soph. New look I’m trying out.»
As I settle at my desk, I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me. Is everyone staring, or am I just paranoid? I dive into my work, hoping to lose myself in the comforting world of spreadsheets and vendor contracts.
But as I review the details for today’s meeting, a nagging thought persists: What if the Marie and Antoine notices? What if they think I’m trying to… No. I shake my head, banishing the thought. I’m a professional. This is just a minor wardrobe malfunction, nothing more.
I’m halfway through reviewing the seating chart for the Dubois-Moreau wedding when I hear a familiar chuckle behind me. My boss, Henri, is standing there with an amused twinkle in his eye.
«Well, well, Esme,» he says, his tone warm and fatherly. «I see you’ve decided to brighten up the office today. Special occasion?»
I feel my cheeks flush but manage a laugh. «Oh, you know, just trying out a new look. Keeping everyone on their toes.»
Henri’s kind smile puts me at ease. «It’s certainly working. Just make sure you don’t distract our clients too much, eh?»
«I’ll do my best,» I reply, grateful for his easy-going nature. «Though I can’t make any promises about the Dubois-Moreau wedding. You know how particular they are about… everything.»
As Henri moves on, I exhale slowly, turning back to my work. I’m relieved by his reaction, but I can’t help thinking, Is this how the rest of the day will go? Everyone noticing, commenting?
I push the thought aside, focusing on the upcoming meeting with Marie and Antoine. The details of the wedding flood my mind – color schemes, floral arrangements, music selections. This is what matters now, not my wardrobe mishap.
I make my way to the conference room, my heart quickening slightly as I spot Antoine, already seated.And alone. He looks up as I enter, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly.
«Good morning, Antoine,» I say, my voice steady and professional adding with a slightly more anxious, «Will Marie not be joining us today?»
He smiles, and I notice his gaze flicker briefly before meeting my eyes. «Hello, Esme. Unfortunately, Marie is occupied with other things today, but she trusts my opinions and even more, yours.»
I lean forward, spreading out the some decorative ideas on the table between us. «So, Antoine, I’ve drafted a preliminary layout based on our conversation Yesterday. What do you think?»
As I explain the arrangement, I’m acutely aware of the soft silk blouse revealing way too much, but I keep my voice steady and my focus sharp. Antoine nods along, his eyes darting between the chart and my face.
«This looks great, Esme,» he says, his smile warm and genuine. «You’ve really captured what we were going for.»
I feel a small flutter in my chest at his praise, but I quickly tamp it down. «I’m glad you like it. Now, let’s talk about the seating plan. Have you and your fiancée decided on the final guest list?»
As Antoine lists off names, I jot them down, my pen moving swiftly across the page. I can’t help but notice the way his hands move as he speaks, his gestures animated and expressive. There’s something captivating about his enthusiasm.
Stop it, Esme, I chide myself silently. You’re here to plan his wedding, not admire his hands.
«And what about the music for the first dance?» I ask, steering the conversation to safer ground. «Have you two made a final decision?»
Antoine’s face lights up. «Actually, we have. It’s a bit unconventional, but…»
As he launches into the story behind their song choice, I find myself drawn in by his easy laughter and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. It’s infectious, and I catch myself smiling back, perhaps a bit too warmly.
I clear my throat, refocusing on the task at hand. «That’s a beautiful choice,» I say, my tone professional once more. »Now, let’s discuss the timeline for the reception…»
As we continue to work through the details, I remind myself over and over: He’s engaged. This is just a job. But even as I maintain my composure, a small part of me can’t help but wonder what it might be like if circumstances were different.
I close my portfolio with a soft snap, signaling the end of our meeting. «I think we’ve covered everything for today, Antoine. I’ll email you a summary of our decisions by tomorrow morning.»
«Thank you, Esme,» he says, his voice warm. «You’ve been incredibly helpful. I feel much more at ease about the whole thing now.»
As I stand, my body is fully exposed to his view. I feel a slight flush of embarrassment and it’s clear that he is struggling to maintain eye contact and not glance down at my protruding nipples. I resist the urge to cross my arms, so instead I quickly respond, «That’s what I’m here for. Have a great rest of your day.» hoping to dismiss any discomfort he may be feeling.
As I lead Antoine to the door and as a goodbye, he embraces me with a hug and I feel a surge of warmth as my breasts press against his body. Did he do that on purpose? Or am I just imagining it?
Back at my desk, I sink into my chair, exhaling slowly. Antoine’s laugh echoes in my mind, and I catch myself smiling. No, stop it, I think, shaking my head. I open my laptop, determined to lose myself in work.
«How’d it go?» My coworker, Lena, peeks over the cubicle divider.
«Smoothly,» I reply, perhaps too quickly. «Just another day, another wedding.»
As I immerse myself in emails and contracts, the afternoon flies by. Before I know it, I’m unlocking my apartment door, the familiar scent of home enveloping me.
The events of last night and the overwhelming sense of shame today have left me in desperate need of a shower.
In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over me, easing the tension in my shoulders. «Get it together, Esme,» I mutter to myself, closing my eyes. But behind my eyelids, I see Antoine’s smile, hear his laugh.
I groan, leaning my forehead against the cool tile. «He’s a client. He’s engaged. This is ridiculous.» But even as I say the words, I can’t quite shake the warmth that spreads through me at the memory of our interaction.
I bite my lip, my hand drifting down my body almost of its own accord. Imagining the touch of Antoine my hand finds my clitoris, sending a jolt through me. I gasp, adjusting my stance to let my fingers touch directly where I need it most.
«This is wrong,» I whisper, but I don’t stop. In my mind, I see Antoine’s eyes, the way they lingered on me during the meeting. I envision his hands on me instead of my own, and a shuddering moan involuntarily escapes my lips.
As the warm water embraces me my hand rapidly stimulate the now aching heat between my thighs. It’s not just the warm water that makes me wet, but also the thoughts and desires swirling in my mind.
My fingers dance over my swollen clitoris, sending shudders of pleasure through my body as my breaths become erratic and quick. In no time at all, I’m pushed over the edge into a powerful and intense orgasm that leaves me gasping for air.
Like a spark igniting into something more I turned the shower head to its highest pressure setting and aimed it towards my pulsing clitoris.
Waves of pleasure surged through me as the intense jets of water pounds against my most sensitive spot, turning a fire within me that threatened to consume me whole.
The pressure mounts to an almost unbearable level, yet I can’t help but revel in the intense satisfaction coursing through my body. My other hand roams my trembling form, massaging me with a possessive touch that both tortures and arouses me.
My hand finds my breast and gently pinches my nipples. Those very same nipples that have been the source of all these thoughts of mine today.
My moans grow louder and I waver between worrying about the neighbors and embracing the moment. Ultimately, I choose the latter.
The relentless force of the water against my swollen clitoris causing my body to writhe and twist in uninhibited pleasure. It grabs my ass as well as it can.
With each passing moment, my hand ventures further down, finding new areas to explore with desperate urgency.
From my waist to my hips, and finally to my backside.
My hand struggles to grasp my entire ass, so I dig my nails into it for a firmer grip.
My hand slides down slowly, spreading my ass cheeks apart until I feel the rift of my throbbing pussy and my fingers dip into the moist crevice, and I’m not sure if it’s water or my own bodily fluids that coat them.
With practiced ease, I slip a finger inside and begin to explore the depths of myself with delicate movements all while having the water stream fixated on my clitoris.
All and no thoughts floods through my head and in
a tumultuous mix of pleasure and stimulation my body is overcome with another intense orgasm, causing me to press against the cool shower wall for support. I tremble as waves of pleasure wash over me. Shaking, exhausted and slightly embarrased.
Later, dressed in my comfort clothes – silly Mickey Mouse pajamas that make me feel like a kid again – I pick at my dinner. The house feels too quiet, too empty. My mind drifts back to the meeting, to Antoine’s laugh, the way his fingers drummed on the table as we talked.
»Stop it,» I mutter, but the memories persist. With a sigh, I retreat to my bedroom, opening the drawer of my nightstand. My hand hovers over my Womanizer Clitoris Stimulator, then moves to the dildo beside it. «Why choose?» I murmur, grabbing both.
I gently switch on my Womanizer, the humming vibrations starting at their lowest level, allowing my clitoris to gradually awaken to the sensation. Whether it’s the remnants of my shower earlier or my own body’s response, I can feel myself becoming increasingly aroused. Within moments, I am dripping with wetness, feeling a sense of anticipation and pleasure building inside me with each passing second. The gentle pulsing of the device against my most sensitive spot is like a dance between pleasure and desire, leaving me eager for more.
I eagerly crank up the power on the Womanizer, feeling a surge of pleasure coursing through my body with each increasing level.
My fingers find the dildo and, while still feeling the intense stimulation on my clitoris, I flip over onto my stomach. Arching my back, I slide the dildo deep inside of me, imagining it’s Antoine’s rock-hard erection penetrating me from behind. Every movement amplified by the pulsating
vibrations of the Womanizer, I lose myself in this fantasy until I am left breathless.
With a firm grip, I thrust the dildo within me from behind, my movements becoming more powerful and swift. The dual sensations of clitoral and vaginal stimulation send me into a frenzy, and I can’t help but let out a joyous scream that surely echoes through the walls leaving no chance that the neighbours haven’t heard me.
Collapsing onto my bed, I release all of the toys, yet the dildo remains partially inserted within me. My body trembles with pleasure as I bask in the afterglow of my intense climax.
As I recover from what felt like my 100th orgasm today, my eyelids heavy as I nestle deeper into my pillow. The soft glow of my bedside lamp casts shadows across the room, and I can’t help but smile at the absurd contrast between my Mickey Mouse pajamas and the toys around me.
«What a day,» I whisper to myself, as sleep finally claims me, leaving me with a sense of peace and satisfaction.