Once we have Eroticon out of the way, Posy Churchgate and I are going to be collaborating on an extended story set in a girls’ boarding school in Surrey in the 1950s. Here is a little appetiser.
PARIS MAY 1976
One of the joys of retirement is being able to go away during the school term. Until my retirement as Headmistress of St. Faith’s School for Girls last summer, holidays were always during the busy months of July and August. It is nice to be able to get away from children. In retirement I still holiday with my very good friend Miss Rushworth, formerly Head of English at the school, a respected colleague to whom I have become very close. It is many years since I have been to Paris and it has been so nice to revisit the sights at a tome when they are still fairly quiet. It has been nice too to brush up my French.
Yesterday we were walking along the Champs Elysees thinking it might be time to pop into a cafe and take the weight off our feet when I saw a newspaper shop. As I like to read Le Figaro when I have the opportunity I made for it.
“Mary” I said, “I am just going to buy a newspaper. I will only be a minute.”
I went into the cramped shop with its smell of tobacco and my eyes scanned the shelves with the magazines. I started as I saw the cover of the latest Vogue.
There was a very familiar face looking down at me. I read
“Delphine de Lotbiniere at 40. Ageless Beauty and Personal Fulfilment. Exclusive Interview and New Photoshoot”
My hands were sweating as I reached for it. I paid for it and left.
“Did you get your newspaper?” asked Mary.
“No. I got this instead.”
I showed her the cover.
“Do you remember Delphine de Lotbiniere at St. Faith’s?”
“I do” replied Mary, “a rather headstrong girl as I recall, and not particularly gifted academically. Not that she needed academic gifts with her undeniable beauty and the Lotbinere estate to inherit.”
“You knew that she had made a career for herself in modelling?”
“Someone did tell me at the Old Girls’ Reunion a couple of years ago. And one could only wish her well even if one disliked her intensely when she was at the school.”
We found a café and sat outside to enjoy the warmth of the late spring afternoon. I leafed through the magazine. There were photographs of Delphine at home with her actor husband and her daughters, aged 10 and 8 who, I could already see, were going to grow up to be as beautiful as their mother. Home was the chateau at Bourg La Chatte near Bordeaux , which had belonged to the Comtes de Lotbiniere since the year 1250. Delphine, an only child, had inherited the title on the death of her father 3 years earlier. She was now Delphine, Comtesse de Lotbinere.
There was an interview. I read quickly, my eyes scanning the text for my name.
“You went to school in England?”
“Yes, from 16 to 18. I was at St. Faith’s’ in Surrey, not far from London.”
“Did anyone there influence you?”
“Yes, the Headmistress Miss Ranson. She taught me always to pick myself up after being knocked down. And to hit back if you are hit. She made me a harder, tougher person. I owe her a lot.”
I blushed as I read this. Then I turned to the photoshoot. Delphine’s face was now lined, showing the marks of age but this actually made her more beautiful. She was radiant and I thought about her life, compared to mine. She had fame, she had an estate with acres and acres of vineyards, she had a gorgeous husband, she had children, She had sex. She had money. I was a desiccated spinster, just about getting by on a modest pension.
I took a sip of my coffee and leafed trough the dozen pages of the photoshoot. There was Delphine in evening gowns, Delphine in a sparkly shift dress, there was equestrian Delphine. There was Delphine in thigh boots. I gasped and felt a twitching in my knickers. It was a photograph taken from below, emphasising the magnificence of her long, booted legs.
“Oh to be under those boots” I murmured.
“I’m sorry?” said Mary.
“Oh nothing. I was about to start reminiscing about the school in the early 50s. I think it was 1952 when Delphine started at the school. I had just been appointed Headmistress. And looking back, I think that maybe I was too eager to impose my way and exert discipline. I was certainly very harsh on Delphine, maybe too harsh?”
“That was certainly my view” said Mary giving me an enigmatic look that made me rather uncomfortable.
The itch remained with me as we carried on sightseeing, as we dined in our hotel.
“You must excuse me Mary” I said, standing up. “I am feeling a little tired. I think I will have an early night.”
I lay in bed and studied the picture of Delphine, committing it to memory. I kissed each boot, kissed her jean clad crotch.
“Madame La Comtesse je vous adore” I said as if reciting bedtime prayers. I put the magazine down, switched the light off and worshipped her in the sweet darkness, massaging my clit until I came, came for her.
At six o’clock I rose, took my case and made my way to reception, being careful not to disturb anyone, least of all Mary. I felt bad about leaving her alone in Paris but she would surely see that I had to do this and forgive me.
I paid my bill, left a note for Mary and waited for my taxi. At the Gare d’Austerlitz I went straight to the ticket window.
“Un billet simple a Bordeaux s’il vous plait.”
For more masturbatory delights click on the image below.