Le Français Pt. 06 - Sex Stories

Le Français Pt. 06

... directors and themselves. And then they will remind everyone how important the museum is, and give statistics like how many children come through every year and so on. They hold this fundraiser twice a year."

"If you don't care, why do you come?" Sinead asked. "Or is it all about business contacts for you?"

"Ido care,ma petite rebelle," Marc said. "And I buy the overpriced tickets to do my part, even if it is not my culture they are preserving. But speeches are like leftovers - the more of them you have, the more unmanageable your refrigerator becomes. Best to only have one or two, not a dozen, and this is the sort of event that aggrandizes people who feel overlooked much of the time, so there will be many speeches."

"Sounds like any other award show," Sinead sighed. "I worked Paid Duty for the TIFF a couple of times. The egos there were out of control."

Marc chuckled. "Creatives are almost as bad as curators and critics," he said. Then he took her hand. "Come."

She hesitated just a moment before following. Marc led her deeper into the First Nations exhibit, and then down a side corridor that looped around the entire exhibit and back towards the main entrance.

"Where are we going?" Sinead asked.

"Shhh," Marc said with a little smile. He stopped at a heavy wooden door that was unlabeled and, after glancing up and down the corridor to make sure they weren't being watched, he opened the door and gestured for her to enter. It was immediately obvious that they ...

... had entered one of the coat rooms where the winter jackets of the guests were being stored. Each one was hung with a plastic numbered tag on the hanger, ready to be retrieved at the end of the function by the staff.

"Are we leaving?" Sinead asked.

"Non, ma petite rebelle," Marc said, placing a hand on her hip as he looked into her eyes. "Now we have our little brush with danger."

Sinead licked her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she glanced around the room. It was longer than it was wide, and mostly filled with the racks of coats. "Marc, I'm not going to fuck you in a coatroom," she said.

"I'm not asking you to, Detective," Marc said. Then he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, keeping her looking at him as he placed the pad of his thumb against her ruby-red lips. "You are going to suck my cock."

Her nostrils flared a little as she locked her eyes with his, reading that he was being serious. "Here?" she asked.

"Here," he nodded.

She swallowed, and Marc could see the fight behind her eyes. If she had been worried about being recognized and associated with him, getting caught sucking his cock in a semi-public place would be disastrous.

Marc leaned back and, with his free hand, flicked the lock on the door closed.

Sinead opened her mouth and sucked on the tip of his thumb for a moment, then let it slip as she went to her knees. She quickly unzipped Marc's slacks and fished out his cock, and the look on her face as she held it again for ...