Le Français Ch. 98-100

Chapter 98

Jules was waiting for her when Sinead walked into the busy Starbucks, and the redhead immediately felt a pit open up in her gut. Just the look on her partner’s face told her that Sinead was in for it. She got into line and tried to act casual.

To be fair, Jules had warned her that she’d be grilling her for details. Before last night, that had seemed like a bump in the road heading towards what she’d been wanting for a long while. Now that Marc had finally… progressed their whole thing, in the aftermath, Sinead wanted nothing more than to never talk to Jules again so she wouldn’t get pressed for those same details.

Sinead put in her order, needing to repeat herself three times to the new barista, but somehow not feeling herself getting frustrated. She was trying so hard not to think that she actually found a moment of zen as she repeated that she wanted a large coffee with a splash of milk, no syrups, no special vegan milks, no extra food. Just coffee. And how to spell her name.

Jules was sitting close enough to the counter where they handed out the drinks that Sinead couldn’t procrastinate any further, so she swallowed hard and went over to the table her friend was occupying. “Hey,” she said. “Any news on the arrests from yesterday? No one’s snaked our collars and cut deals with them or anything, have they?”

It was a valid question - everyone knew financial crimes, and other non-violent or drug-related crimes, were considered fair game if a perp had information on something bigger, badder or with more publicity. It also happened to be a distraction question.

And Jules knew it.

“Nope, all our guys are bundled up tight,” Jules said. “How was last night?”

Sinead shot her a pointed look as she was taking off her leather coat. It was early March, but there had been another cold snap. No snow, but that didn’t stop the wind from biting. “It was fine,” she said stubbornly. “This morning was more interesting.”

“Oh, really?” Jules asked, raising an eyebrow and starting to smirk.

“Fuck off, not like that,” Sinead scoffed, sitting down and rolling her eyes. “Two things happened. First, I met Marc’s mysterious ‘friend’ who was helping him with getting some of the information he handed over to me.”

“Wait, like, a hacker?” Jules asked, her smarmy expression dropping as she frowned and leaned forward, lowering her voice.

“Exactly,” Sinead said. “She just showed up at his place, and I’ll get to why in a second, but she can’t be older than twenty-five and is kind of a cunt.”

“What kind of cunt?” Jules grimaced. “Like she’s difficult just for the sake of being difficult, or she’s going to circle back around on you and blackmail you because of the things she’s done for your stupid off-book shenanigans?”

“Hey,” Sinead said defensively. “All of that led to the past week of arrests, and whatever else we can grab this week.”

“Good results don’t have to come from good actions,” Jules said. “Just like good intentions don’t guarantee good results. Do I really need to spell out every stupid thing you did?”

“... Fine, fuck,” Sinead grunted, shaking her head. She’d known the whole time she was walking the line. A lot. “I think she’s more of a ‘difficult because it’s fun for her’ kind of cunt. If she did pull some shit, I think Marc would be able to call her on it and make her stop.”

“Wait, is he fucking her, too?” Jules asked. “She’s not the girlfriend, right? Please tell me she’s not the girlfriend.”

“No, no,” Sinead said, blushing a little just at the thought of Felicity. Every time she thought of the woman, she was reminded of her unseen lips and tongue in places that felt so good. “The hacker isn’t the girlfriend. But Marc did admit that they’d, um, fooled around before. Just not often. Clashing styles, I guess.”

“Right,” Jules said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “So the hacker shows up. Out of the blue?”

“Ish,” Sinead said, starting to grimace herself, and she pulled out her phone to bring up the email Marc had forwarded. “So, last night, Marc got this. He sent it to her last night, so she came over to talk about it, and that’s when I found out. Apparently, he thought I should finish breakfast before he told me.”

“So he made you breakfast,” Jules said, flashing a smirk at her, then frowned as she started reading.

“Sin-ee-ad?” a barista called from the counter.

“Fuck me,” Sinead sighed, going to grab her drink. 

Jules was done reading when she sat back down, passing the phone back over. “That’s kind of…”

“Fucked?” Sinead filled in. “Scary? Proof?”

“I was going to say vague,” Jules corrected her.

“It was sent from a brand new address from inside Marc’s company,” Sinead said. “They deal with big financial shit, that’s not an easy thing to do. You have to admit that I might actually be right.”

“About the mysterious ‘French,’” Jules said, shaking her head. “Fine, if this is real, then you might be right. It could also just be Marc trying to stay relevant because he’s chasing your tail some more.”

He doesn’t need to chase it, I’ve been chasing him, Sinead thought, trying not to blush again. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the way she’d been acting the last couple of months. And the conversation with Marc - after he’d squeezed a couple of orgasms out of her on his couch like he was trying to get every last bit of toothpaste out of the tube - had only made things more muddled in her mind. Once they were both dressed, she’d kind of been expecting an awkward exit, but he’d sat her down at the kitchen island with a serious look on his face and wanted to talk about the sex they’d had. That was already weird enough of an experience; Sinead had never discussed sex with her past partners, especially not in an analytical way. The most would have been answering her ex asking ‘was that good?’

But Marc went into detail, first about everything they’d done. What she’d liked, what she didn’t like. How her ass was feeling, and ways that she could make sure the ache died down, and to lessen it further in the future. The hardest thing for her to talk about had been if she had any desires for things she’d like to try in the future. All of her sexual fantasies lately had been about what they’d already done, and taking Marc up her ass already felt like a hell of a step. Particularly because he still hadn’t actually fucked her pussy, even if it didn’t feel like he’d neglected it in any way.

The really weird part, though, had been him talking about not getting caught up in chasing the feelings she’d had the night before. She knew it had been different last night. Not just the fact that they’d been doing anal sex, but that something else had been going on. At times, she’d felt like she was floating, just existing in exquisite pleasure. Being used by him in a way that was entirely about her, and not about him, though that didn’t feel like it made sense. He’d called it ‘Sub Space’ and warned her that some people found it almost addictive because of how it shook their spiritual and sexual foundations, and just like anything else, an addiction like that could lead to dark places.

Sinead didn’t think she had to worry about that. The experience last night had been like a great, euphoric night where you got drunk, but not too drunk, and everyone else was perfectly drunk like that as well, and the vibe of the entire night was blissful and communal. It hadn’t been heroin.

Not that she wouldn’t welcome another ass-reaming from Marc soon. Not that day, but once her butt didn’t feel like it was struggling to exist… Yeah. She wanted it. To feel him fucking her, on top of her, his hands, his breath on her skin, his lips. His cock.

She cleared her throat. “Might be real?” she questioned Jules. “Come on. Marc is kind of odd, but he’s not ‘make fake threats against himself’ psycho.”

“I mean, you would know better than me, I guess,” Jules smirked at her, then sighed, shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “OK, so assuming The French is real, and Marc and his hacker both got ‘warnings’ from him, that does what? Marc is already out, right? We agreed on that.”

“I know, he is,” Sinad assured her partner. “No more working together, no more off-book CI stuff. He’s strictly disconnected from any cases.”

“Then there’s nothing wrong then, right?” Jules asked. “He’s out, he’s not stepping on The French’s toes anymore. We weren’t mentioned, or Cops in general, so there’s nothing for us to report or anything. It’s ominous, sure, but we just do our jobs and everything should be fine.”

Sinead let out a heavy breath and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I mean, it’s spooky, but you’re right. We just do our jobs, which does mean that The French is back on our radar. He was obviously tied into what Victor was doing somehow. We just need to keep pulling on threads and finding out where some of the dead ends used to lead.”

“Great, we’re cops, and there is more crime for us to investigate,” Jules deadpanned, then she smirked. “Now that we’ve got all that out of the way - you stayed over, huh? He’s that good?”

Sinead groaned and delayed answering by taking a long sip of her coffee.  

“Oh, come on,” Jules chuckled. “You know you want to spill the details to someone.”

“God damn it,” Sinead sighed. She did, but it was…

“Just start with the obvious question,” Jules grinned, holding up her hands close together and facing each other. “Just tell me how big he is.” She started moving her hands apart.

Sinead grunted, trying not to grin, and let Jules spread her hands to an alarming foot apart as her partner got more and more concerned, then Sinead snorted and moved her hands back to about the right size. “Like that, I guess,” she said. “And a good thickness.”

Jules pursed her lips and nodded in an impressed way. “Nice,” she said. “More than acceptable. Does he ‘eat out at the Y’?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sinead said, feeling her cheeks flush as she was reminded of that morning again, let alone last night. “He knows how to use all the machines, has the schedule memorised and puts the facility to its full use.”

“Damn,” Jules snorted. “That good?”

“Julia,” Sinead said seriously, reaching across the table and putting her hand on her friend's wrist to impress on her how honest she was being. “I can’t imagine anyone but a lesbian would be better.”

“Fuck,” Jules snickered. “OK. Look at you, Marc, you dog. So he got you there?”

“He got me there,” Sinead grinned. “And got me there, and got me there.”

“Really?”

“I lost count, bitch,” Sinead said honestly.

“Fuck,” Jules said, giving her a questioning look. “And how's his, uh, plumbing game? Does he work the snake well?”

That euphemism made Sinead snort and bark a laugh, and several of the other patrons in the coffee shop looked over for a moment before turning back to their own conversations, phones and laptops. “He plumbed pipes that hadn’t been plumbed before, and he was very thorough in making sure they were… OK, anything I say feels like it’ll be more gross than I mean it to be.”

“Wait, hold on,” Jules said. “Pipes that hadn’t been plumbed before? Like… depth, because he has some special position or something, or like…?” She raised a pointed eyebrow.

Now Sinead really blushed, and if she’d been outside in the cold she might have actually let off some steam from her cheeks. “Or… like…”

Jules blinked rapidly, raising her eyebrows. “You let him-? The first time?”

“He’s into it, and got me interested,” Sinead mumbled, then swallowed the thick feeling of spit in her throat. “And, I mean, he made it really good, Jules.”

“You slut,” Julia snorted quietly, covering her mouth as she started coughing and chuckling.

“Hey, like I said, I lost count,” Sinead defended herself. “That’s how good it was.”

“OK, OK,” Jules said, holding up her hands to show she wasn’t going to attack Sinead for it. “I’m just surprised. But seriously, and I mean seriously - did that get him out of your system? Because you were trying to make it sound like last night was going to be a one-time thing, but now it sounds like it was the best sexual experience of your life.”

“It… was,” Sinead shrugged, still blushing. “He knows what he’s doing, but isn’t cocky about it. Or, I mean, he’s the right amount of cocky about it.”

“So…”

“So I’m probably going to see him again,” Sinead admitted. “But it’s just sex.”

“Right,” Jules said slowly, eyes narrowing again. “Just sex.”

“It is,” Sinead said, maybe trying to convince herself as well. “That’s all it was, that’s all it is.”

“OK, sure,” Jules said. “It’s just sex. Then you wouldn’t mind if I gave him a call in a week or two, right? To see what all the hype is about? If it’s just sex.”

That was a trap question, and Sinead knew it.

“Way to support Girl Code,” she said instead of answering.

“Really? You invoke ‘girl code’ like that?” Jules smirked. Then she mimed turning a light in her direction like they were in a pulpy interrogation scene. “Answer the question.”

“If you want to get him to plumb your never-been-plumbed pipes, go for it,” Sinead scoffed.

“Who says I have an unplumbed pipe?” Jules snorted.

“Wait, you’ve-?”

Julia shrugged. “College,” she said. “I mean, it didn’t go well, so maybe he could change my mind on that, the way you talk about it. But that’s not the point. Would you actually be fine with it, or are you just lying like how you said there wasn’t anything between you two before now?”

“I wasn’t lying about that,” Sinead said.

“Sure,” Jules rolled her eyes. “And you just let him plumb your pipe on the first visit. I don’t know whether to be insulted that you think I was buying that story, or sad that you felt like you had to tell one.”

“Fine,” Sinead grunted, feeling that one hit her hard. “Last night was the first time, OK? But not the first time for anything. We… tested his plumbing tools, and he did an inspection on the pipes.”

“This euphemism is starting to get weird,” Jules snorted.

“You started it,” Sinead sighed.

“So everything but, then?” Jules asked.

“Pretty much,” Sinead mumbled. “Not at first, and not all at once.”

“Please tell me you weren’t trading sexual favours for his help,” Jules said quietly, making Sinead look back up at her.

“I- No,” Sinead said. “There was teasing about that, but Marc would have helped even if we weren’t getting involved.”

“You’re sure about that?” Julia asked, raising a pointed eyebrow.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Sinead shrugged.

That wasn’t a nice thought.

Chapter 99

“Shannon is requesting you review three potential hires by the end of day,” Jillian said, standing by Marc’s desk and rattling off the things he needed to know about the next couple of days that weren’t on his usual schedule. “I’ve already taken a peek, and you can ignore the first two; she included them to make the third one look better. I think he might be someone’s nephew, I just haven’t narrowed down who yet, but I’ll find it for you. Tobias should be wrapping up the SelCor documents with his team today, and he’ll do final checks and have them to you tomorrow morning, so you should have data to give to Bob during your lunch tomorrow. And last thing - Fiona is pregnant again. She isn’t telling anyone yet, but she’s doing that same thing with the garbage cans that she did the last two times.”

Marc grunted softly and sighed. “What are the chances she doesn’t take the maximum leave again on the third baby?”

“Almost nothing,” Jillian grimaced slightly. “Her husband Jonas is apparently great with their oldest now, but is useless with them as babies.”

“Shit,” I said, shaking my head. Fiona had been a fantastic recruit to the department five years ago and I’d flagged her for a fast-track, but she’d taken two year-long parental leaves and both times she came back, she’d picked things up at a slower pace as she re-entered the team. If the trend continued with the next return, she wouldn’t be a benefit to the team, she’d be an anchor. And that fast-track was already off the table. “OK,” I said. “Keep an eye on it, and I’ll work up a package to see if we can pay her out a lump sum so she can just focus on her home life.”

“That’ll be a delicate conversation,” Jillian warned him. “She still thinks she’s the hot stuff she was when you hired her, despite the performance reviews and mentoring.”

That was the problem with dealing with people with high intelligence and the egos that could compete in the Finance world. They always thought that if they weren’t on top, they were about to be. Marc just frowned and nodded.

“And speaking of delicate conversations,” Jillian said, shifting from standing in front of Marc’s desk to sitting in the chair across from him and assuming a more casual demeanour. “How is Felicity?”

Uh-oh.

“Felicity is as wonderful as always,” I said, schooling my expression. “We had dinner last night.”

“And?”

Marc twitched his lip slightly.

“Marc,” Jillian said sternly. “Have you talked to her or not?”

“Her parents and an old friend are coming into town in a week to celebrate her thesis defence,” Marc said. “I’ll be taking them to dinner and meeting them for the first time.”

It wasn’t a direct answer to the question, and Marc knew that Jillian was keenly aware of that. She was too intelligent and perceptive not to, which was exactly why she was so good at what she did. His secretary glared at him across his desk for a long moment.

“You do realise it’s sad that you haven’t met them before, right?” she finally asked. “It’s been years, Marc. And it isn’t like she’s estranged from them.”

“I know,” Marc said. If his and Felicity’s relationship had been traditional, it would have been an inappropriately long time. But they didn’t have a traditional relationship - their relationship was intimate, certainly, and trusting, but it had always been transactional from the start, and that had always been fine with them. The problem was something Marc hadn’t anticipated - the length of that transaction, and how everyone else in his life wasn’t aware of its nature. Including Jillian, who knew everything but that.

“But you’re meeting them now,” Jillian said.

“And thrilled to do it,” Marc nodded truthfully.

“OK,” Jillian said, standing up. “That’s progress at least. You’ve bought yourself more time before I seduce her into my relationship instead. I’ll give you a month.”

“From today, or from meeting them?” Marc chuckled.

“I was going to count from then, but you’re acting like a child, so today,” Jillian said, smirking at him a little. Then she let out a sigh. “Seriously, Marc. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Make sure she knows that, and do something about it.”

“I know, Jillian,” Marc said, feeling that same strange tightness in his chest that he’d felt during some of his recent conversations with Felicity. “I’m aware, and I’ll… find a way to have that conversation.”

“Good,” she said. “Because you and I both know she’d make a hot lesbian third, but losing her would break your heart. Do you want me to push that call with Penny Dotts?”

The hard pivot in the conversation had Marc blinking for a moment. “Yes, please,” he said, getting back to business. “To next week, I think. She’s digging for info on SelCor, and I don’t need her thinking she has anything useful until after we deploy that data tomorrow.”

“Noted,” Jillian said, standing again and heading for his office door. She stopped before opening it, halfway turning back to look at him. “Talk to her,” she said.

“I will,” Marc promised, realising this time he really did mean it. He just wasn’t sure what he’d say.

Chapter 100

This was probably an awful idea. Sinead knew it.

No, it wasn’t just awful, it was borderline stalkerish.

OK, it was more than borderline.

That thought made her scooch down a little more in her seat, her knees bumping against the bottom of her steering wheel. She’d parked her car just far enough down the street that Marc probably wouldn’t notice it if he left his building, and where he definitely couldn’t see it if he looked out one of his condo windows, but where she could get a clear view of everyone going in and out of the building.

Marc had sent her flowers on Tuesday - to her home, not to her desk, proving he already understood her better than her ex. Getting a bouquet of flowers on her birthday or anniversary in a building full of cops? Explainable, even if it was likely to get her some ribbing. Receiving the same gift on a random Tuesday? Way too many questions, and way more ribbing. Near the end of their marriage, her ex had done that after a particularly bad fight where he knew he was in the wrong, and all it had done was make her life harder.

What Marc hadn’t done was ask her out again yet. He’d texted her, following up on that conversation from Sunday before she’d left. Asking how she was, how she felt, if she was recovering. She’d tried to hint that she was ready to go on Wednesday. Then she’d sent him a saucy picture that night.

OK, it hadn’t been ‘saucy,’ it had been lewd. She’d been wearing lingerie, and the buttplug, and the view had featured the fact that the puttplug was visible between her cheeks as the thong did little to hide it. His reaction had been appropriate and complimentary, but he hadn’t invited her over. He hadn’t ordered her to come over.

So today she’d asked earlier if he was available that night, and he apologised and said that he had plans, but told her to keep her Saturday open.

Saturday was a plan, but Sinead had naturally wondered what plans he had that a chance at bending her over his bed, couch or anywhere else in his apartment wasn’t more enticing. The answer was obvious - he was seeing Felicity tonight.

When she realised that, the intrusive thoughts started to wander through her mind like they were whistling innocently, but were really just drawing her attention.

Sinead still hadn’t met Felicity. Marc was keeping her a ‘secret’ for now as part of his Dom/sub game, but if the whole thing was a game, why couldn’t Sinead make some moves as well?

She knew where Felicity would be during a likely time. It wouldn’t be that hard to at least catch a glimpse of the woman who had licked Sinead’s pussy, right?

“I’m so fucking fucked,” Sinead muttered to herself, taking a sip from her soda cup and eyeing the couple walking up the street towards Marc’s building. The guy wasn’t the right size for Marc, so she dismissed them. She hadn’t been sure what time specifically Felicity would show up, so she’d rushed out at the end of her shift and grabbed a quick dinner from the old Golden Arches before settling in for her mini-stakeout. Now, her burger and fries gone and her stomach complaining at the heavily processed food, she was feeling like maybe she’d put a toe over the line of reasonableness.

A car pulled up, and Sinead realised it had passed by about a minute earlier, and then pulled into a parking spot across the street. She squinted, narrowing her eyes, but it was two guys in the front seat. She relaxed again.

Five minutes later, another car slowed on the street and then pulled into a parking spot close to Marc’s building, and Sinead sat up a little. One driver, a woman, and no passenger. It was a tall SUV, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. The woman turned off the car and the overhead light inside came on, revealing she was a blonde. She fiddled with something on the passenger seat for a long moment, then got out, pulling a purse with her.

Mid- or late-twenties, average height, with a long, brown leather overcoat to cut the wind. She was enviably curvy, and with her coat hanging open, Sinead could see a glimpse of the red dress she was wearing underneath it, and the cleavage she was showing. Matching heels, what looked like might be a designer purse, and her blonde hair had that ‘perfectly styled’ quality that Sinead had felt like she’d been walking around with after Marc had booked her that time with his stylist.

It had to be her.

It wasn’t definitely her, but Sinead knew that Felicity was elegant, gifted in the tits department, and had Marc for a boyfriend. Either this woman was Felicity, or one of Marc’s neighbours had just as much money and good taste as he did.

The woman walked confidently to the door of the building, buzzed herself in, and entered.

Sinead settled back down, chewing lightly on the inside of her lip. Her brain was telling her that was enough - she’d already overstepped. Her gut, her cop gut, said that she only had circumstantial evidence. She didn’t have confirmation that the blonde was Felicity. All she needed to do was wait a little longer to see if Marc and the woman came out on their way to their date. It was almost seven - if they were going to dinner, it would have to be soon, right? And if they weren’t going out for dinner, then Sinead could spare an hour to confirm that. It also told her that either Felicity worked a job where she had to dress up like that, or she dressed up just to see Marc at home.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but she had it.

“That had to be her,” Sinead muttered to herself, sitting up and pulling her seatbelt back on. She started her car before she could change her mind again, quickly checking in both directions and pulling out onto the street and driving away. Sticking around for confirmation was just too crazy, even for her.

Hell, the whole stakeout was too crazy, and Sinead knew it. Jules would absolutely rake her over the coals if she found out, and there was no way she could ever let Marc know she’d done that.

And then there was the fact that Felicity, if that had been Felicity, now had a picture in Sinead’s mind where she’d already been living rent-free. She had tits. She had that natural blonde look. She was younger than Sinead, too.

That was what she was competing with for Marc’s time. That was the woman who had made Sinead squirm and whimper and come with her tongue.

“Fuck,” Sinead grunted, hitting the heel of her palm against her steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

That was a massive fucking mistake.

- - - - -

On the street outside Marc’s building, two men got out of a car after waiting long enough to make sure the blonde wasn’t going to come back out having forgotten something.

“I’m telling you, it was her,” one said to the other.

“Alright, alright,” the other one grumbled, zipping his coat up against the cold. “Come on.”

They jogged down the sidewalk, both eyeing the entrance to the building, and bypassed it to head to the SUV the blonde had arrived in. One of them pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of her license plate while the other one quickly peeked in through the front window, then checked the back as well. Then they both turned and jogged back to their car, jumping in, and the driver turned it on.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he grumbled.

“Call Tony, see if that’s good enough,” the other one said. “I don’t wanna fuckin’ sit out here all night.”

“Fine, fine,” the driver sighed, holding his bare hands out to the heaters. “Lemme fucking defrost, and I’ll call. That’ll probably be enough.”

His partner grunted, checking to make sure his picture was clear. It would definitely be enough.