Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

[WARNING: Mild adult content below. Read at your own discretion.]

Was Louis right? Was Jeanne completely mad about me? She should be… God, I needed so much for her to be. Hours were passing by and I was in heaven, although part of me kept agonising over everything. I didn't want to leave to England and face the boys at Johannah’s wedding, much less after the whole German goalkeeper issue. I was a fool trusting Louis… But mainly I didn’t want to leave Jeanne, because I knew that when I did it would mean I just had one more week left with her before heading for the USA tour.

I finished to do the dishes and noticed Jeanne wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. I dried my hands and tucked my hair behind my ear, starting to make my way to the hall. The front door was open and I saw Doudou coming up from the art studio and quickly leaving the house. He still had the flowers crown I made for him on his head. I chuckled. Jeanne told me cats were mating and he wasn’t getting any. Rubbish. Girls love flowers crowns.

Something white lying on the floor caught my attention. I approached it and bent down to grab it. Jeanne’s fair blouse… And a few steps away I noticed her shorts. She was naked waiting for me somewhere… She was driving me absolutely insane. I instinctively glanced through the glazed door. Jeanne was sitting in a crossed-legged position on the bed, looking to the garden. Her body was run by countless ray of sunshine captured by the glass beads placed all around. Everything else was turning greyish. A storm was coming.

Without giving it too much thought I kicked off my Nikes and began to unbutton my denim shorts. I removed both plaid shirt and vest and walked to the art studio. Jeanne slowly turned her head towards me and lay herself down, nestling amidst the sheets, duvet and cosy blankets. She had that look on her eyes, that playful twinkle I remembered so well from the photos I took of her in Paris. I climbed into bed beneath the duvet and reached out for her waist, bringing her near. A thunderbolt rumbled, and all went quiet for a second; then the sound of the shower filled up the space. Jeanne smiled but I couldn’t help but worry.

“Doudou… He just went outside.”

“He’s a cat, Mouth…” She whispered. Of course he’d be fine. I beamed and pulled her closer, generously running my hands underneath the only garment left on her. God, her skin…

“I love your underwear…” I said, my fingers stroking along the edge of her lacy knickers after I brought her to me, now standing on my knees. Jeanne moved her legs up to graze my chest with the tip of her feet. “I love it on you…” I claimed softly, placing a kiss on each of her knees and lifting her bum. She led one hand to her hair. “I love it when I ease it down your legs…” I carried on, pulling from the light fabric as I trailed kisses along her leg all the way to her instep. Jeanne’s body shifted. “But I love it the most when it lays on the floor…” I murmured cheekily once I finally removed them. Jeanne laughed, throwing her head back.

I lay sideways in bed and Jeanne came to rest her body by my side. Moving my index to her shoulder I began to trace forms while staring into her eyes in silence. The twinkle seemed to quieten down as I started to caress her from shoulder to neck, and then down across her back to her bum and thighs. Jeanne’s lips slightly parted, arms folded against her breasts. She was breathing falteringly. I brought her leg to my hip, my hand freely roaming around her tight flesh.

Jeanne closed her eyes as I carried on brushing her skin. My mind was losing focus, strayed in the extremely soothing contact. My lids began to drop. In a single second I felt her body tensing as if she was about to move abruptly.

“I just want to touch you…” I managed to say, the palm of my right hand insistently pressing the rhombus shape on her lower back. I sensed Jeanne pulling down her arms and her whole body relaxing on mine.

I was rock hard against her tummy but again I couldn’t give up on the pleasure I was finding on the touch of my hands, absolutely amazed by the nervous system. It was so sensuous I truly doubted I had touched anyone before. Not like this… I was out of my mind, completely swept up by the contact. Everything seemed suspended. The only reference to the world around us was provided by nature, the rain hitting on rooftop and windows, the wind whirling on the willow. I made Jeanne face down, her hair messily sprawled around her face, soft moaning against the mattress. I removed my boxers and sat on top of her just below her bum, and continued stroking her skin smoothly with fingertips, palms, forearms. Such intensity… I was barely able to do anything more except to bend down from time to time and graze my lips around her back. My hair falling wildly over my forehead gave Jeanne tickle, enhancing each one of the sensations.

At one moment I noticed a ray of light piercing my lids and opened my eyes. The storm was breaking, and the whole place was glowing under a golden, shimmery light. I glanced down, Jeanne trembling underneath me, the goose bumps I had been sensing, a knuckle between her teeth. My hand went to the side of her face, caressing her, and pushed her hair aside for me to lap her ear. Jeanne contorted involuntarily. Getting down from her I spread her legs apart and led the tips of my fingers to her entrance. I threw my head back. She was so wet.

“Jeanne…” I groaned quietly.

I pushed two fingers inside her, tightly pressuring against the anterior wall, feeling the rough, moist, warm contact, full of delight. Her bum rose up to me in response. I smiled and began to move them back and forth, knowing she’d unconsciously buck herself in my hand for me to hit the exact point that makes her convulse in pleasure, and she did. God, she was so delicious. I parted my fingers and curled them deep inside her. Jeanne let escape a soft moan. I just wanted to do so many things on her, all at the same time.

–.–.–

“How was your first time?” I knew I shouldn’t be asking because I’d probably be unable to deal with the answer, but somehow I wanted to prove her I could be mature.

“You don’t want to hear that story…” Jeanne said lightly. I gulped and instinctively closed my eyes. What was coming would be hard to digest. Luckily she was resting on my chest; otherwise she’d had noticed my reaction.

“Of course I want to hear it,” I claimed boldly. There was no turning back.

“Are you sure?” She asked, coming to watch me in the eyes. I fought to remain expressionless and nodded. “I was fifteen years old; with Roland, a friend of my father…” My eyebrow rose up.

“A friend of your father–––I repeated, confused. What was his age?”

“He was almost forty-five.” Jeanne calmly returned her head to my chest. She was going to hear my heart running wild…

“Forty-five years old?” I snapped, straightening up. Mature is overrated. “He was thirty years older than you and you were underage!” There was the older one she was referring to when we had that strange conversation in Paris. I seriously needed to start taking notes on her.

“So?”

“Where I come from that’s called rape…” I muttered, slightly shaking my head ‘no.’ Jeanne tilted her head at me.

“Don’t be so hasty to judge on something–––she mused with a mocking snicker. What you did to me that morning in Paris could be considered rape in Sweden.” I froze. She just wanted to shock me but I deserved it for being a jealous asshole.

“Sorry–––I said cupping her face around my hands. Sometimes I speak without thinking.” Jeanne already knew that. She smiled and pushed her lips to mine.

“I was posing for him and I admit he seduced me, but at the time I was old enough.” I felt so bad for her to be explaining me those things. I was such a fool.

“And how much time did you date him?” I carried on in a blither tone, coming to rest my back on the pillows and bringing Jeanne to my chest again.

“Date him? Oh, no,” she replied, amused. I closed my eyes. There was no peace. “We were lovers for about three years. My parents never found out about us.” My mind grumbled. She was just too much.

“And where is this guy now?”

“Imagine…–––Jeanne shrugged. Seducing fifteen-year-old girls…” Creep.

“Were you in love with him?” ‘Shut up, Harry,’ I thought, but for some reason I desperately needed to know he wasn’t my lookalike. I noticed I was gripping on her tightly.

“No.” I sighed, relieved. “It was over as soon as I started at La Sorbonne.” Three years is a long time though. “Now tell me yours.”

“I won’t,” I claimed.

“Why?” She glimpsed at me.

“Because I feel intimidated by your story–––I spoke glancing at the ceiling. That is why.”

“The girls have a lot of theories but I bet it was your school sweetheart.” I quickly glanced at her in disbelief. “I find it very lovely–––Jeanne grinned. Sometimes I wish I had just that…”

“So you regret Roland,” I asserted, fixed on her eyes. Yes, I didn’t care what she said before. I wanted to take them all away from her.

“No, but sometimes I think it’s all you could ask for; loving, sweet, unsophisticated sex.” My mind grunted. “A girl, shivering in her boyfriend’s arms. My experience was…–––she interrupted herself. It wasn’t like that.”

“I can tell,” I blurted. I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. I really had earned that nickname she gave me.

“Again?” She asked, frowning.

“No, no, no–––I said hurriedly. Just admit it could be the seed for your unconventionality.” Jeanne laughed.

“Sexual unconventionality?–––she ironised. But I love to have sex in bed…” Yeah, I was positive about that.

“You know what I mean…”

“Nobody regardless of his beginning should set for conventional, mechanical, dull sex–––she explained passionately. Sex is joy, freedom, art in motion, not an exercise routine you perform during fifteen minutes, three times a week –at the most.”

“May I ask you if you are a communist?” I didn’t know where the question was coming from. Well, I suppose from the very beginning, and from the boys’ teasing. She cackled.

“Oh, no–––she stated. I lack discipline for that.” Somehow I sensed I was missing a joke. “I’m more of an epicurean and maybe even a bit of an anarchist. I believe in the pursuit of pleasure and liberation…” Now I was puzzled.

“I get the pleasure's part, but what is it that you want to get liberated from?” I mumbled.

“From standards that try to tell me who I should be,” Jeanne observed in a concerned tone. Some sort of alarm rang inside me. “I don’t want anyone dictating how I should behave…”

“And what about commitment?” I retorted.

“Political commitment? Both concepts aren’t in conflict.” Was she avoiding the topic? It was pretty obvious what I was referring to.

“No–––I said firmly. How feelings fit in this picture?”

“Feelings and commitment aren’t the same thing,” she pointed out. I tried not to glare.

“You told me you’d been in love–––I insisted. What happened with that guy, the one that resembles Antinous too?” I couldn’t help but snicker a little.

“Let’s not speak about him.” She sounded serene and rested her back on the pillows as if we were talking of nothing of importance. God, she was so frustrating. Why was she reticent to talk? Was it because it meant something to her or because she knew I would freak out no matter what she’d say?

“At least tell me how you met him,” I asked, coming to look at her face.

“He took a photo of me on a protest…”

“The one at your flat,” I blurted. I knew there was something about that picture.

“Yes–––she asserted, glimpsing at me. Antoine asked for my email address to send it to me.” So he had a name, and it was a French one.

“I thought he was from your class…” I muttered, turning away in confusion.

“As in ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’?–––Jeanne propped herself on her elbow. No, he was studying another discipline.” I looked at her questioningly. “Fine Arts…”

She was like her mother after all.

–.–.–

Notes

I-have-a-big-mouth Harry should learn to shut up! And yes, we should all be taking notes on Jeanne. I know I am xD Well, what do we know about Jeanne's mother? Is Jeanne like her as Harry thinks? A lot of crazy things are coming very soon...

So, be curious and become a friend!

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Love you all <3

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