The pension hallway smelled of polished wood and faint coal smoke. Rue du Rocher, midnight. Everyone asleep. My heart hammered as I slipped from my room after the salon at Madame de La Roche’s. Charles d’Aubignac’s door, just next to mine. We’d exchanged glances all evening. His apartment overlooked the same quiet courtyard. Neighbors, so close. Thin walls. I paused. His door cracked open. Lamplight spilled under it. A shadow moved. Our eyes met through the slit. ‘Éléonore,’ he whispered. Rough voice. Hungry. My skin prickled. The floor creaked under my slipper. Risky. Neighbors could wake. But I stepped in. Door clicked shut. Soft. His hand grazed my waist. Pulled me close. Breath hot on my neck.
His room dim. Gas lamp flickered. Bed unmade. Books scattered. Parquet groaned as he backed me against the wall. Lips crashed into mine. Tongue invaded. Wet. Insistent. I gasped. Too loud? Muffled it against his mouth. Hands under my skirts. Rough fingers on silk stockings. Tearing at garters. ‘Quiet,’ he growled. Next door, old widow slept. Footsteps above? No. Just our breaths. He hiked my dress. Cool air on thighs. His cock hard against me. Thick. Pulsing through trousers. I clawed his shirt. Buttons popped. Chest hair scratched my palms. He shoved me onto the bed. Springs squeaked. Fuck. Hold still. His mouth on my neck. Sucking. Biting. Down to breasts. Corset unlaced fast. Nipples pinched. Hardened. I bit my lip. Blood taste. Moan escaped. ‘Shh.’ His fingers plunged between legs. Wet already. Sloppy sounds. Pussy clenched. Dripping. Neighbors might hear the squelch.
The Hallway Glance
He stripped. Cock sprang free. Veiny. Head glistening. Pre-cum. I spread legs. Shame burned. But want won. He thrust in. Brutal. Stretched me wide. Virgin tight. Pain first. Then fire. Deep. Balls slapped ass. Rhythm built. Bedframe knocked wall. Thud. Thud. Stopped. Listened. Silence. Pushed harder. Fucked raw. Sweat slicked us. My nails dug his back. ‘Harder,’ I hissed. He grunted. Pounded. Pussy gripped him. Juices soaked sheets. Climax hit. Waves. I choked cry. Body shook. He pulled out. Hot cum spurted on belly. Thick ropes. Sticky. We panted. Light filtered under door. Shadow passed? Hallway empty.
Slipped out. Barefoot. Dress rumpled. Cum drying on skin. Hallway cold. Door shut soft. Footsteps downstairs. Froze. Porter? No. Heart thundered. Crept to my room. Key rattled. In. Locked. Collapsed on bed. Thighs ached. Pussy throbbed. Secret safe. Neighbors none the wiser. Paris slept. But I burned. Alive. Free. Tour Eiffel glowed outside. Witness to my sin.