At the Summit Ch. 02

Her skin still tingled from Dean's caresses, and her vagina held the tribute he had poured out in their intercourse. She was eagerly awaiting the end of breakfast in this gemuetlich pension and a return to the bliss he would offer again in their room. She leaned forward and whispered that to him in French, slowly enough that he got the point. But she was clear on her life plan, too.

He had even given Michelle a farewell present when they parted for what might have been the last time: an American Pyrex casserole pan that he had told her was his wedding gift to her.

Now, 26 years after Michelle and Dean had parted, Dean learned about Michelle's retirement from intelligence work, her return home, her marriage, and Laetitia's young life.

Laetitia's father had died as a result of his work in the area of nuclear tests in the South Pacific. Michelle had returned to government work now that her daughter was grown-- she needed the income, but, as Dean had already guessed, she enjoyed the role which she was called upon to play. In his imagination, unorganized thoughts tumbled over each other.

Certainly, she had not brought him to this room for sex. Or was this to be some wild mother-daughter scene? Somehow, that seemed unlikely. Was daughter going to go out in a few minutes? She was not acting like it. And, much as he trusted Michelle in certain ways, she was in the intelligence business: could this young sparrow be someone else, not her daughter?

There was a knock on the door. Dean tensed, wondering if the French agent who he had "helped" might have gotten loose from the medical care system too soon.

"Room Service" a muffled voice asserted. Having seen enough movies, Dean let Michelle answer the door while he stayed out of sight to the side, ready to spring on an intruder. Laetitia watched the two of them with mild amusement, not getting up from her chair. The legs which could have been so strikingly posed in those tights remained primly placed in front of her.

It really was Room Service, or someone doing a very good imitation of it. The young man brought in a bottle, glasses, and the rest of the apparatus for serving champagne. Dean's eyebrows arched. Laetitia even looked surprised at this arrival.

"I ordered this for the three of us. We have something important to discuss, " Michelle smiled. She indicated to the young man that he should open the bottle.

The popping cork and the foaming liquid, Dean thought, reminded him of how he felt right now. He had allowed himself too much thought about sex with Michelle, past and possible future. He found it hard to sit still, and yet she was so steady.

The glasses were filled with a flourish, and then the hotel man departed. The energetic little bubbles rose to the top in the intense last light of sunset topping the Rockies.

They toasted each other, the upcoming Summit conference which had brought them together, and the good beverage itself. Illegal, of course, for Laetitia to be doing so, Dean thought, but he knew that such laws were somehow miraculously suspended for the foreign Summit VIP's, whatever the type of passport they carried.

Then Michelle spoke.

"I have a proposal to make."

"I'm all ears." Actually, Dean admitted to himself that this was not the part of his body which was paying the most attention. Laetitia looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled as she caught the meaning of his figure of speech.

"I would like you to teach the art of making love to Laetitia."

Dean's jaw dropped. He set his glass down with a clank.

Laetitia looked up with mild interest, as if she had heard this before.

"But I thought..." Dean started to say, but then realized that what he thought is that he and Michelle would be together in this room, perhaps on the bed by now. Somehow this would be hard to say in front of her daughter, even in this situation.

He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Michelle continued. Her tone was that maddeningly logical tone which she had once used with him to explain her marriage goals. The French were so damn rational!

"Laetitia is an attractive, healthy young woman. She has been working day and night on her schooling, and has wonderful career possibilities. I'm very proud of her, but I know that she has neglected her social side."

Laetitia half-nodded agreement, with a look of resignation.

"I know that she will find a man close to her own age sooner or later, but what if he is uninformed or inexperienced? Our children learn the mechanical part in school, officially or unofficially (a phrase which she said in French), but they do not learn the art."

Dean had to agree, but when he began to say that, Michelle gave him a look that said that she was not finished.

"In France, you must recall, when a young man of a good family reached a certain point in life, his father was expected to take him to his own mistress. The father would introduce him to her, and then depart. The father did not ask questions, but he knew that his son would be prepared to fulfill his masculine duties in a way that would give credit to his family.

"Now, why to his own mistress, you may ask," she continued. Dean let her go on. He had read about this ages ago, but had given it no thought since.

"Because," Michelle answered her own question, "the experience was to be educational and not a commitment. The degree of teaching needed was left, as you say, open. Perhaps it was only a salon conversation. A relationship with one of the young man's peers would have made marriage a necessity, oui?"

"Now I asked myself, why does this only work for men?"

"I didn't know it was still happening." Dean inserted this comment.

Michelle arched her eyebrow, and gave him a look of disbelief. She continued.

"If, for example, you agree to work with Laetitia in this matter, I know you and your situation well enough to think that you will not force yourself upon her. You will not run after her later on. You will do whatever she is comfortable with, and it will be a great favor to me. No matter what happens to me in the future, I will know that she will have the choice of enjoying life as I have. And if she needs a consultant across the ocean, she will still be able to get advice from you, I know."

"Maman!" Dean turned, startled to hear Laetitia speak. She was not reacting to her mother's plan for her; she was reacting to the hint of future danger in Michelle's words and voice. The young woman rose from her chair and came to her mother's side-- put her arm across her shoulder. Michelle smiled a small smile, and looked up at her.

"We must be realistic. The world that we live in is now filled with sunshine, but that makes the corners where I work darker than ever." Michelle made a familiar motion that indicated to Dean that she thought they might be being monitored.

"Yes, you are a realist!" Dean responded to her with a nostalgic smile that let her know that he remembered how she had accepted him on that basis so long ago. And then he nodded somberly, so that she knew he understood her concern for the future.

Laetitia hugged her mother. A tiny tear might have passed across her cheek, but Dean was not sure. There was an awkward silence, and then Dean grabbed the champagne bottle and poured: there was just enough for one more round.

"I need to ask some questions, and then we can raise our glasses to the answers." Dean now assumed a more authoritative tone-- after all, he was being asked to take on a rather different project than the one which Uncle Sam had sent him to do. He needed those answers.

"Most importantly, is this what you want, Laetitia?"

He looked at the young woman, who remained silent for a long moment. What Michelle asked of him seemed strange, but it did make sense in a way. In the first sign of animation since they had met, she leaned forward and crossed one leg over the other, with her hand on her knee. It was a look of anticipation.

"Yes." She paused. "I am studying anthropology in the university. I spend hours reading and listening about how love and family life work in cultures all over the world. My professors say I am very... earnest."

Laetitia said the word as if it hurt to spit it out.

"I have another two years to go, and I must work hard at it, but it still is only learned from books. Even if we spend a day talking, that will all be things that I would not learn at school."

Michelle nodded in agreement.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Dean continued his questions.

"Yes, or I did. He is with someone else now." Dean noted a twinge of discouragement in the way that she said that. He thought to himself that perhaps there was a bit of history as to how she might have come to the realization that she needed to know more about lovemaking.

"How long will you be in Denver?"

"I only remain here for two more nights. Today is Friday and our plane departs on Sunday afternoon."

""Our" plane?"

"Maman and I."

Dean looked at Michelle, who looked back at him with a calm smile. So he and Michelle were not likely to restoke the fires. And when would she complete the job of setting up the communications link between his agency and her people?

"From my perspective," Dean said, "this seems very strange, but because your mother is such a good friend, I will do it." Dean raised his glass. Later, he recalled that as the most peculiar toast that he had ever offered.

"Tomorrow, while Michelle is working, I will meet you at 10 a.m. for a picnic and our long talk. We'll do the best that we can in the time that you have." He excused himself for the evening, telling them that he had to make a couple of phone calls.

1997 - Sophia Reflects

"One of the people who he called was me," I told Sophia. She was pensively twisting a blade of grass back and forth on the park lawn.

"He remembered that I traveled to Denver regularly, and so he asked for some ideas on where to take her, things to do. He also asked if I had any contacts for a couple of projects which he had in mind."

Given my new-found maturity, it was a bit embarrasing to also admit to her that he remembered how much I enjoyed social and sexual intercourse with the young ladies of my former university. He asked me a number of questions-- admitted that he had not thought much about university sex lives since he had left the university himself.

I reminded him about the Supreme Court justice who had married the young college student. A lot of women admitted in confidential interviews that they would have enjoyed sex with the athletic and brilliant senior judge, but somehow they could not imagine going further into a relationship.

It usually was just a case of the young woman wanting to sample a man more experienced and slower than the guys around her, but Dean, as I explained to him, would have to be careful to determine what Laetitia really wanted if they had sex. An inexperienced woman suddenly plunged into a delicious sexual relationship with him might change her plans, and that would create an awkward situation with Michelle.

Sophia did not bite at this tease about Dean's questions or requests. She continued to reflect on the story.

"Richard, I just am not sure. I am not saying it was wrong, but was it right?" She stood up and brushed some cut grass from her skirt. I stood up and said nothing.

As we walked back to the hotel, we barely spoke. Sophia was turning the idea over in her mind, examining it from every angle.

She still seemed to be thinking about it as our clothes came off that evening, and with few words, she became a powerful tigress. I had never before experienced such raw passion buried deep within her. Perhaps she made up her mind somewhere in the sweet hours of our lust.

To be continued...