Introduction Moule IV
The moaning on the screen was rising. Both girls were apparently enjoying each other’s company… One of them was auburn, with charms larger than Souad’s by a couple of cup sizes, at least. She was wearing dark blue stockings and a ‘guêpière’ (or basque or perhaps vest), anyway a piece of garment covering her body from above her gorgeous bosom, to stop just above her legs, with suspenders to hold her blue stockings. She had lovely green eyes and frizzy hair. The other lady also frizzy hair, but was a brunette, somehow slimmer, with still impressive respiratory equipment and beige stockings. The former was called Kay and the latter Honey. After they had licked each other’s bosom, they adopted the French Mathematic position, with close shots of the camera.
‘It’s disgusting!” Sophie commented, covering her face with her right hand. She was the shiest of our group, regularly demonstrated her erudition in German and Russian literature at University but obviously not so relaxed when viewing two ladies playing together.
After a while, Kay removed her mouth from between Honey’s legs and exclaimed:
‘Oh, Honey, I would like so much the presence of a wild stallion!’ At that moment, by an auspicious twist in the plot, the opening of a door echoed in the room.
‘This must be Pierre…’ Honey explained. ‘He is here in Los Angeles for a couple of months to improve his English. He is fifteen years old and we don’t want to scare him… or do we?’
Kay repressed her laughter:
‘Have you done it with him?’
‘No, unfortunately. But, if we play our cards right…’
Footsteps could be heard up the stairs.
‘I am here, Pierre!’ Honey called out.
The bedroom door opened. The mysterious Pierre entered and discovered both ladies, almost naked on the bed, with a welcoming smile, sitting up, with their legs folded, like the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen’s harbour. He was five foot nine, slim, short hair on the front, long hair covering his nape, after the fashion set by David Bowie in those days. The camera only showed his face for a fraction of a second, then moved around him, as if to see the ladies through his eyes.
‘Sorry, Honey… I did not mean to disturb you!’ Pierre said, with a strong French accent, about to leave the room.
Honey climbed down from her bad and grabbed his arm. He stood mesmerised at the sight of both breath-taking ladies, the movement of the camera mimicking his eyes roving from one to another. Kay moved closer to the edge of the bed and cupped her left hand … between his legs.
‘Someone’s going to have a real good time!’ Souad commented.
‘I do hope that he’s got a … !’ Edith added, laughing, the other girls joining in, as if relieved.
The camera took a general shot of the scenery, so that the spectators could see the three actors simultaneously. Honey rose and open Pierre’s mouth, who remained petrified while she started to kiss him. Kay opened his fly, pulled his trousers down, then his pants. The film director had astutely instructed the cameraman to mask the sudden appearance of his Family Silverware. We could only see Kay’s head moving forward and backward, her right arm following the movement and rhythm.
The camera came closer and past Kay’s head, so that the audience could see Pierre’s Endowment successively exposed and hidden by her undivided endeavours. The camera moved and lingered on Pierre’s hands around Honey’s Delights, her hands pressing his fingers against her body, his fingers applying pressure like on an imaginary keyboard. The camera moved upwards and then… took a close shot of the hero, enabling the spectator to see how much he relished that duet surprise.
‘Gosh, he looks like you.’ Souad said to me.
I remained silent.
‘Yes, it is you!’ Edith added, rubbing it in.
The moment that I had dreaded for four years, the final showdown, had come and I had to face it…