[#07] The man with François Mitterrand’s hat

[#07] L’homme au chapeau de François Mitterrand (V-01)

Cy Jung — [#07] The man with François Mitterrand's hat

Every month, Cy Jung offers you a short story in “e-writing”, a fiction text coming from a “pretext” borrowed from the everyday life and that could start that way… or not. One of her reader, LMC, has proposed to translate one of her short stories in English to give English-speakers access to her work. What a good idea ! What a wonderful gift !
Cy Jung warmly thanks LMC for this translation. If you would also like to translate the short stories of Cy Jung in the language of your choice, you contact her [here-art10] (preferably in French).

Petit rappel liminaire

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La version française originale est ici. Toutes les nouvelles en [e-criture] sont .

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[The pretext]
The man is his sixties wears a wool jacket and a hat. He could be François Mitterrand, without the red scarf. He speaks on the phone. I hear what he says. I understand that he doesn’t know the person on the other end because he often mentions the person that put them into contact.
— I can come to meet you in Alsace or in Barcelona, at your convenience.
I’m intrigued. What can lead this man to do such a travel to meet a stranger ? Business, I suppose. Business…

[The short story]
Camille puts her phone back in her backpack. The GPS has driven her to the correct place if she can trust the home trainers, the rowing machine and the exercise bench aligned behind the large patio door. None of the machines is occupied but at the end of the room, a woman runs on a mat while some others execute physical exercises on the floor under the direction of a trainer with generous biceps. Behind or abdominals ? Camille doesn’t know enough to decide. Maybe both at the same time… She doesn’t wonder more and pushes the entrance door of this fitness center that a friend recommended her.
— You will see, it’s nice. There are two people managing. A young guy, tri-athlete, and an older woman. A retired one from international judo, according to what I understood. She doesn’t make ant fuss. Neither does he. There is no music and no “darling” left and right. They like the sport, the effort, and aim for well-being, adapted to everyone. No, really, they are great. Tell them I sent you. Tell them what you fancy. They will suggest the best program.
Camille wipes her feet on the doormat. A woman gets out from an adjacent office. She offers a friendly hand.
— Hello. Can I help you ?
— Hello, I am a friend of Germaine Pichon. She…
— Yes ! Hello Camille. I am Eunice. I was waiting for your visit.
It starts well.
— Freddy’s class ends in 5 minutes. Come and get changed. We will find out what your muscles are dreaming of.
Dreaming of a good nap, certainly. Camille keeps the joke for her. She promised herself to slowly go back to sport to eliminate the chemo and give herself an additional chance to limit the relapse. It is not the moment to give up, especially when this woman has everything she likes. Already ? Camille herself is surprised about it : it has been so long since she has felt this little vibration between heart and pubis indicating that the limbic lobe has gone into action. It is probably a little premature, so quite stupid, but whatever ! She does not have anything to lose. All that is given to her, she takes.
— Here is the changing room. What kind of outfit did you bring ?
— Capri pants and a slightly large T-shirt. I… Germaine may have told you ? I… I still struggle to accept my new Amazon’s look and..
— Don’t worry. We will sculpt you pecs that would make a top model turn pale ! I’ll be waiting for you on the mat.
When Camille joins her, a pair of sneakers in the hand, the previous class is ending. Freddy greets her, exchanges some words with Eunice and takes his pupils to the changing room.
— I didn’t know for the shoes…
— You were right to take them. It’s safer with the machines. But we are gonna warm up first. Come…
From the mat, Eunice hands the hand as if she was inviting her to dance. Camille moves forward, touched. A little scared as well. Twenty minutes later, she already does not have the force to be scared anymore. By series of ten, the judoka wakes her muscles chains up one by one, with no rush, alternating between muscle-development and stretching exercises. Camille holds the rhythm, especially because as soon as her breath gets short, the movements adapt for a recovery phase. Then the rhythm accelerates again. Finally, the verdict falls.
— That is good. I find that you are in good shape. We will do some stretching.
Another ten minutes pass, in all the positions and the most unbelievable ones. Some are suggestive enough for Camille to feel again the sextonic vibration animating her wrinkles. Does Eunice realize what she provokes ? Camille has no doubts but hesitates about her motive - personal or commercial ? The exercises are done. Eunice installs her on a bike.
— I adjust it so that you don’t have to make any efforts. You pedal easy, and we talk. And… Here we go ! I leave you for two minutes. I’ll be back with your Shape passport. It is a little notebook where we compile your activities, your wishes, your objectives. It will help you to stay the distance. The problem is always to maintain the activity on the long term. Pedal less fast. You are on a stroll, for now.
“For now”… Camille is convinced that this tranquility is only temporary as this woman seems to be able to hear what her body needs. The little vibration is more and more significant, insisting. It is delicious. However, Camille focuses on the rotation of her legs and on Eunice’s suggestions : in addition to access to the fitness center with a spinning program – the rowing machine will be for later -, she suggests an aerobics class, another about muscle reinforcement and participation in the Sunday morning hike, “another way to move”, she explains. And… ? Camille is ok to move in another way. But… ? She cannot help herself to blush, stirred by her wandering thoughts.
— Does that suit you ?
Eunice’s smile has won some shrewdness.
— Yes ! Of course.
— Don’t do too much, at the beginning. Your body needs to slowly adapt.
To not do too much… Eunice is right and Camille takes advantage of the arrival of a young man to get off from her bike and go to the changing room. Near her bag she finds a towel that has a good smell of lavender. She takes a quick shower. Freddy is in the office when she gets out.
— I will pay my subscription.
— No, the first two weeks are free. If you feel good with us, we will make a deal. Do you have a medical certificate ?
Camille hands it to him.
— It’s perfect. See you tomorrow for the gym !
— Thanks. Could you say bye to Eunice for me, I don’t see her…
— She’s getting some sun in the square, to the left when you leave.
Camille indeed finds her sat on a bench. She invites her to sit next to her.
— Do you have plans for the rest of this afternoon ?
This is direct ! Camille loves it. Eunice takes her hand. She leads her to the fitness center. A small door allows access to the flat above. Eunice precedes her in the stairs. On the landing, she puts her hands on her hips.
— Don’t think that I have the habit to drink tea with my clients at all. It is even the first time that I succumb to the thirst. One can wonder which illicit substance your smile is impregnated of.
She gets even closer. Camille’s head rolls in the hallow of her neck. She takes a rest for some seconds, fully smelling the warm perfume from this unknown body. In an almost abrupt movement, she changes her mind.
— No ! I am… Don’t think that… Excuse me. I am very embarrassed. This removal of… I am not even able to say it ! And… I am sorry, I have to go.
She frees herself and starts to turn around. Eunice holds her back. She locks her gaze in her eyes that have suddenly turned so sad.
— Kiss me.
Camille does not move. She feels like crying. She cannot believe all of this. Eunice holds the hand she has taken a little tighter, showing everything she knows about desire and gratitude. Her voice gets so soft, and so decided at the same time.
— Kiss me.
Camille stops fighting. She plunges with lips, tongue, entire flesh, her two palms around Eunice’s neck. Soon she misses breath. Eunice hugs her hips’ figure, her look full of mischief.
— If I tell you I’m missing one foot, will you conclude that I will not take it [*] ?
Camille bursts into laugher. Eunice picks up her tongue on the way. And the kiss resumes even better. The kiss ? And another one. And these hands that get involved. These fingers. Everything is contributing. The bellies are brought together. The butts tumble on a sofa which is kind enough to be at a good location. The legs fold, pressing where the groin claims a support. The hands search the clothes. The fingers undo buttons and zippers. The mouths are still devouring themselves. The skins are discovering each other. The tits are pointing. The sexes get covered with juices. One clitoris is starving. Which one ? It looks like it is the one of Eunice. The one of Camille always prefers to come in the second place, when the vagina is full of moving fingers. But this, Eunice has not found out at about yet. And that is a good thing, probably. It will come. One hopes. And…
— Sorry. Can I pee ?
Eunice jumps out of the sofa to let Camille get down. It also feels good to get a grip on yourself. So much desire is so rare ! She does not want to miss anything about these fleshes that get revealed. She shows Camille to the bathroom, starts the kettle for the tea, two mugs, sugar and a tray. Camille joins her in the kitchen, with straightened trousers but tousled blouse. A new kiss follows. Then Eunice in turn leaves her for some minutes. The tea is ready. She serves it at the foot of the bed. Camille lays down. She removes her trousers right away. Eunice imitates her.
— So that was true, for your foot ? I thought it was to lead me on.
— No, it is true. And this breast ?
Camille stands up again, in front of Eunice. She removes her blouse. She is shaking. Eunice undoes her bra while putting her lips on her mouth. Camille feels the tears coming again. Eunice catches the first one on the corner of her eye, puts one hand on her intact breast, the other at the place of the scar.
— They are under my protection, both of them. The one which is here. And the one missing. And you don’t have the right to badmouth them anymore.
How to resist such words ? Camille does not. She tumbles on the bed, Eunice follows. She feels her tongue on her whole breast. Then three fingers that pull on the elastic of her knickers. The two of them are going so well together ! Her sex is liquid. With a small thrust, she indicates the procedure to follow. The index obeys, delighted with the order. She bends. Her knickers take off. The ones of Eunice do not keep their position for long. Camille is already about to break. She does without dwelling at length on it. She knows that she is very close to coming but she also wants to give herself the softest treat. She rushes headlong between Eunice’s thighs. Oh dear ! How good it is ! How soft ! How warm ! Eunice wouldn’t have believed in the idea herself. So that was what she had read in Camille’s eyes as soon as she entered the fitness center ? This appetite ? This craving ? This urgent greed ? Everything happens. Camille devours her. In a last moment of lucidity, Eunice points two fingers to who wants to take them. The vagina of Camille absorbs them and, in a shared desire, their pleasure takes them. Eunice lets out a cry, a long one, almost mournful. Camille sings on the upper octave. Their fleshes melt. A kiss reconstitutes them.
The tea is cold. Camille plunges her look is Eunice’s. She feels like saying thank you. She knows that she should not. Eunice hugs her. She hugs her so tightly that she fears suffocation. It cannot be. She has just learnt how to breathe again.

Cy Jung, 12 septembre 2018®.

Version imprimable de cet article Version imprimable


[*”To take your foot” : French expression meaning “get off”, NdT.

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Un texte libre de lecture sur un site Internet n’est pas un texte « libre de droits ». Cela signifie que l’on a celui de le lire mais pas celui de le reproduire sans l’autorisation expresse de son auteur. Les conditions légales d’utilisation des contenus du site de Cy Jung sont ici.

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