Segments - 13 - Nice in Nice

01 - Meeting Her

02 - The Services

03 - Exeter Hotel

04 - Christmas

05 - New Year

06 - The Old Man

07 - Why He Started

08 - Cambridge

09 - Norwich

10 - The Party

11 - Millau

12 - Heading East

13 - Nice in Nice

14 - Making Progress

15 - Revelations

16 - Doubts

17 - The Connection

18 - Levelling

19 - Space

20 - Finale

It's a bright and clear morning. Being winter even in France this means the rain from last night has now frozen. Clem unzips just a corner of the sleeping back and the cold air bites his hand hard. My god he wishes it was summer. It takes an age for him to get up and dressed, he's stiff, he feels like he's getting old this morning.

Outside the very low sun dazzles him as it breaks through a clump of trees in the distance. He remembers a camping trip with Mandy where much the same happened. He's thinking a lot of Mandy right now he notices. Why? In these last 2 years her memory has started to fade, he's obsessed less and less about her and yet now she's back and present in his mind. Today, despite his promises, he'd like to know what happened to her.

Like is the wrong word. Like implies it would be nice to know, he doubts it would be nice. Need, or at least want is better. Why did she send him away? She was right, the idea of watching her fade away and dying would not have been a pleasant experience. but now he's left in a perpetual state of wondering and not knowing. And the idea of never looking back is impossible. How can you never look back?

Curses to Mandy and her promise to never look back and to never find out what happened to her. And curses to her, Tabs or Jo or Jane or something for making him wait. Women! Past and present they've trapped him, cornered him, told him what to do. Well no longer! Stuff them all I'm outta here!

He's passionate about these thoughts yet he knows he'll always miss Mandy and whatever-she's-called will turn up, be all sexy and he'll be right back to square one before he knows it. He's a sucker for a pretty face and a lustful lover. He's a muppet, an idiot, a buffoon and a plonker. Why can't he just let himself be free? "No man is an island." It'd be easier for Clem if he was. Whatever else he's thinking he is taking the tent down, he's probably outstayed the welcome of these services by now.

"Oii!" comes a shout from the car park. Oh crap, officials? No-one's said anything so far. He stands to look, thankfully it's her. "There you are! I've been here 3 hours."
"Well I'm here." His reply is curt. "I've been here for ages."
"Oooooh grumpy! Grab your things, lets get some breakfast." She's fine, she seems unperturbed by his short temper. He finishes packing and lugs his rucksack across the field towards her. She's driving a small Citroen today, left hand drive, French plates, a rental car he guesses.

Inside the small car she still drives hard although the engine can't give her the speed she desires. He sits there as she waffles on about how pleased Anton was to meet him. All he's thinking about is her and how he feels about her. He feels colder towards her. He feels he knows her less. He doesn't know her real name. He doesn't know what she wants. He looks at her, she's dressed in her style of tight jeans, boots and right now a big faux fur coat. Her face is pretty. She is attractive. She looks homely today. She looks like a good person to be with. Damn. Why? Damn and blast. He hates feelings, they confuse him.

Her attitude is quite the opposite. She's touching his leg as she drives. She seems happy that she's found him. She seems filled with joy and this makes her even more attractive. Clem is confused. Too many thoughts, too many feelings. He wants to get out the car and walk, at least he can breathe when he's walking. He feels trapped by his own emotions and he can't place them into where they belong.

"David has been in touch with me, thanking me for putting you two in touch." Clem's mind spins back into the car, David, right, good, I can deal with this.
"Oh, cool. Does he seem happy with the report?"
"Yes he does!" She beams at him. "He's thrilled. He's been in touch with the bridge people and he's going to use that hotel you used." Clem thinks Maurice will be pleased as well then, good.
"Fantastic. Er...how do I get paid?"
"Have you not checked your account?"
"Nope, hell, I can't remember the last time I did, anyhow he doesn't have my account details."
"He does." Ouch! Clem feels like he's been punched. He was happy talking of David but we're back to the real problem. Her and her magic. Passport? Account details? Where is all this coming from? "He's put in the £500, plus £200 for expenses so far and when you send your receipts in he'll make up any difference."
"Wow!" Clem fakes enthusiasm but he can't get around his internal struggle.
"If you give me your receipts I'll be sure to get them to him. I reckon breakfast is on you today." She winks at him cheekily. She's a delight to be with, how can he hate her. She's an enigma and a controlling bitch. She's scary. He wants to get of out the little car, he want's to tie her up and cum all over her, he wants to hug her, he wants to ask her everything. He wants to kill her. He wants Mandy. A tear rolls down his cheek, he wipes it quickly in case she notices.

"You wanted adventure, well now you're having it - You wanted adventure, well now you're having it - You wanted adventure, well now you're having it." He keeps on repeating this to himself until he calms down. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. One day he'll be dead and it won't matter. Mandy is dead. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Mandy is dead. Gone. Never again. Lost. Calm down boy, calm down, breathe. Haha! The way she's driving this could be your last moments, make them happy ones!

She pulls into a car park in a town, Clem has no idea where he is he's been wrapped in his own thoughts. It's good to be out of the car and into the fresh cold air. As they walk she reaches and holds his hand, they walk as a couple would. He relaxes some more. They wander around the town and find a tabac with tables inside. Clem orders some croissants, coffee for her and tea for him. He looks longingly at the cigarettes, it's been a while since he quit but right now the hankering is still there. He resists.

He's relaxing. The negative thoughts are superseded by good ones brought on by her smiles and her enthusiasm. She wants to go to Nice, it's only 200 miles away and they've got all afternoon. As they pass through France they chat about the recent weather, it seems the UK is gripped by frost. They talk of Anton. Clem falls asleep at one point while she rubs his thigh with her spare hand. The sun makes everything better. It feels good to feel his muscles relax and his head roll into his chest as sleep takes over.

Of course waking up he's got the worst cramp in his neck and a stiff shoulder. She pulls off the motorway, parks in a layby and uses her phone to find a suitable hotel. Clem giggles inside, yep, she's got roaming data, he hasn't. Mind you, he's not paying for it is he. Shut up Clem, enjoy the day.

The hotel she's chosen is on the outskirts of Nice, by the sea. It's high quality with polished marble floors, glass doors, embossed paper invoices and staff dressed in uniforms that all speak perfect English with a French accent. It's luxurious, Clem understands that and expects nothing less for "her", yet no matter how nice it's not the way he wants to view France. He wants to see the real France where the French people live. This place is a microcosm, a prim and proper balloon not the low down and dirty everyday life that real people live.

"I'm going to have a walk around, I want to see the real town of Nice."
"But what about dinner?"
"I'll get something out there, you coming?" He doesn't think she'll take him on, not with a fancy restaurant within the hotel.
"Yes, yes, go on then, it might be fun."

Barely a mile from the hotel life is quite different. Large houses set in their own land give way to 4 and 5 storey tower blocks in concrete painted in pastel colours. Linen and clothes hang from balconies. Chaos reigns supreme on the busy bustling streets with cars gridlocked and scooters whizzing every which way between. The everyday people look just as hassled, busy and bewildered as they do in any busy city in the UK. The sun shines, even in winter it's warm here on the Mediterranean. The sun is shining on the French Riviera and these people ought to be thankful. This is just normal life to them.

After dining alfresco Clem is feeling positive and upbeat. He doesn't really know what last night and this morning was about. Lets face it, he's on the Mediterranean coast in the the sun with a beautiful woman and some money in the bank. What's not to like? That said, the hotel is lovely but Nice is not anywhere near as nice as he'd expected. This play on words makes him giggle like a five year old inside his head. He looks at her longingly. He feels that sense of sexual excitement and tension. Oh I do wonder what tonight holds in store. They walk back to the hotel hand in hand.

"Clem, will you wait for me in the bar please?" She asks sweetly. This is novel, that wasn't an order or demand, that was a pleasant request. He wanders into the bar, the bartender gives him a once over look and decides he's scruffy but still a customer. Trying in French he orders a coke, this makes the bartender smile and correct his pronunciation. They engage in conversation, Clem asks for interpretations of common phrases like "how far is the station" and "where is there a shop that's open". The bartender is only too pleased to oblige between serving the occasional customer.

The bartender is mid "apres d'ici" when he stops as he looks through the door. Clem follows his eyes and sees her. In the setting sun her maxi dress is translucent, her silhouette clear against the aura. The bartender lets out a quiet "alors!" under his breath and both their eyes follow her as she comes towards them. Out of the glare she's wearing a full length dress, off the shoulder in soft, flowing and delicate cotton with a gentle pastel flower print.

She hugs Clem warmly and sits on the stool beside him. "Cola, Si'l vous plait", she speaks fluently.
"You, wow, you look great, that was some entrance!"
"Why? You were both staring."
"Your dress against the sun was, er..."
"Oh no! Oh " she looks shocked and slightly embarrassed "Oh dear, I never thought."
"Ha, relax, it was impressive, grrrrrr!" She looks pleased now. She holds his hand. She's been much more touchy feely these last 2 meetings. This no longer feels like just debaucherous liaisons, now it's more serious, more, well, more like a relationship.

She whispers "Clem, you know we've, well, you know, you've spanked me."
"Yeah", He looks at her expectantly.
"I, I've never done that before but I've always fantasised about it."
"Uh huh." He's getting excited.
"I, I want to try something more, more, harder?"
"Gosh, what did you have in mind?"
"Come with me."

He looks at her bottom and hips through the dress as she walks up the stairs ahead of him. Yikes! What does she have in mind? Is he up to the task? The excitement is tinged with fear that he may not want to participate or that it will all be an anticlimax. Meh, she'll just want him to spank her harder surely.

In her bag she pulls out a cane. It's only a small one, about 2 or 3 foot long, straight, thin and with a simple cloth handle. He gulps. "Are you sure!"
"No. But I so want to find out!" She too looks nervous and excited. "I have a fantasy you see." She explains that like Clem the cane was frowned upon, almost banned from most schools by the time they were in education. However she'd seen old films like St Trinians and had formed a fantasy about being the naughty girl, the cane, the headmaster authority figure and secret welts on her backside. Clem can't believe his luck.

They agree to try. In Clem's mind he wants her in school uniform bent over a desk but this is all new and dangerous too. Pain, power play and injury are treacherous fields to venture into. She simply bends over placing her hands on the bed. He lifts her dress and exposes her backside, she's wearing a silk thong in white. He stands beside her. He's horny and tense, scared too for fear she may run off crying or even get the police. His desire wins over his reticence.

He brings the cane down. She whimpers then looks at him, almost disappointedly. "Is that it?"
"Harder?"
"Yes." He brings it down again, he himself whimpers at the cracking noise. "Ouch! Oh my, that stings, again!" Blimey! He repeats his action. "Again." After 5 more cracks she looks at him, her head tilted towards him. "Fuck! That stings." He feels scared. "Oh wow...ouch. Give me 5 more, a bit harder."

5 more sharp whacks come down. With each he relaxes and she shudders. "Touch me." He throws the cane to one side and places his hand firmly onto her silk vagina. It's moist. "Mmmmmm". He stands back, she looks at him curiously. He admires the welts across her bottom, set in the curves of her hips. He walks up to her, pulls her dress down and simply states "Drink?"

Back in the bar he knows he's frustrated but the notion of watching her sit down is too good to miss. He jumps onto the stool, she slowly inches onto hers. He is loving this. "Bastard" she mutters under her breath.
"Whaaaaaat?"
"You know. Good god man I can't sit." She moves to stand again.
"Sit!" She shuffles back into the stool, wincing. "Now be a god girl, sit there and get us both a drink."
"Grrrrrrrr" she growls sexily. The bartender looks on, hopefully he's no idea about the truth of this situation.

For half an hour he makes her sit. She begs to stand, she begs to go to the toilet, but he's not having it. It's not real begging, this, he hopes, is play begging and it's working his arousal. "We shall retire on one condition young lady."
"What."
"You are not allowed to put either of your hands below your waistline without my explicit permission."
"What? OK, anything, just take me to bed!"

As she walks upstairs he tells her to raise her hands above her waist. She does. In the room she reaches down to check her phone, he stops her. She deliberately puts both hands down in defiance. This is what he had hoped for. He simply slaps her bottom and she yelps, immediately lifting her hands. "Bastard!"

He knows it's a game, but in this game he has complete control over her. Any trouble and he'll slap her tender backside causing the existing bright red marks to throb. He lies on the bed, she stands there, her hands up by her shoulders. His mind spins, the things he could ask her to do! She does look good in dress though doesn't she.

In the most unsubtle way he unzips his pants and pulls out his stiff penis. She looks on longingly and makes to move towards him. "No!" She moves back and put her hands back up. He strokes himself as she wiggles in frustration. The turn of her hips beneath the soft cotton dress, the bare shoulders, her breasts poking above the dress. He's trying to fix this image into his mind. If only there were a video recorder in his brain. He manages to catch himself before he comes, he has more devious plans.

"You got any rope?" She looks at him, her eyes widen.
"Yes...?"
"Where?"
"Can I put my hands down to get it, it's in my bag."
"Yes, but you put them ANYWHERE near your pussy and you'll be sorry." She walks to her bag, fumbles around and pulls out the same soft rope that she'd been tied with at Cambridge. Perfect. "Pass it to me."

He wraps the rope around her waist twice then ties a double knot at the front. He crosses her hands as she looks at him and places her wrists in front of the knot. There's plenty of rope left, he wraps this around each wrist and ties her hands in front of her waist, right in front of her belly button. There's a problem, there's enough play in the rope for her to push her wrists and hands down onto her clitoris, and that will never do. After some quiet thought he takes the last of the rope hanging from her wrists and ties it tight around the back of her neck, pulling her hands up under her chest while not risking strangulation. Excellent.

She giggles "Now what?"
"Nothing...you're done." With that he slaps her arse, hard.
"Bastard! Shit that hurts."
"You like?"
"Well...yes. Why, what's up with me Clem?"
"You're a bad girl that's what's up with you."
"I know." She gives him that cute look. He groans in desire. "I'm vewy naughty."

He kisses her deeply and with gusto, she responds likewise and he feels her rubbing her pubic mound against his thigh and her bound hands trying to grab his t-shirt. He wants to explode he truly does but no, not yet, not quite yet. In their embrace her turns her back to the bed and pushes her back, she flops helpless onto the bed, her hair sprawled around. He walks to the head of the bed, climbs on and drags her under her armpits fully onto the sheets then straddles her, facing her vagina, his back to her head.

Through her dress he rubs her. The soft cotton slides over the silk thong in a gliding motion, fabrics can be so sensual. Her breathing gradually deepens and the tension in her body can be felt through his inner thighs. He lifts the dress, inch by inch, stopping to rub some more every now and then. finally her thong comes into view.

He moves to her side and places his mouth on her upper thigh, sucks hard on the flesh then bites in. He repeats this to each thigh and a little higher each time, remembering to rub her clitoris through the silk at times. Then a thought, a cruel thought. He turns her over and works back up but this time towards the now deep red stripes where the cane has done it's work. He finally takes a bite in her backside, right across a welt and she yelps then groans in both pleasure and pain.

"You OK?" He enquires.
"Yes god damn it, yes! Stop teasing me, let me cum!"
He replies, calmly "No."
"Bastard!" And with that he slaps her backside again. "Owwwwwwww!"
"Language young lady, we'll have none of your potty mouth."
"Sowwy."

He sits her up on the bed, she is still looking at him all the while, both curiously and with passion in her eyes. He pulls her dress up, she shuffles to help. He then pulls the dress right up over her head, her face as she disappears is a picture of confusion. With the dress over her head he lays her down then quickly grabs the other length of rope that's hanging out of her bag. Using this he ties it around the dress, trapping her upper body and head inside.

She's lay there on the bed. Her dress is covering everything from her waist up, everything below is exposed save for the silk thong. He decides this is just too good. Rudely he fishes in his bag and find the tablet, starts it up, and takes a snap. "Oii" She screams "Shitbag! don't you DARE"
"Too late, and anyhow no-one knows it's you, it's for my own use"
"I'm gonna kill you!" There's truth in her voice, but just enough exaggeration to suggest he's not in real trouble.
"How, bitch, you're the one tied up."
"You'd best be elsewhere boy when I'm untied."
"I can be, but then who's going to get you out of this current predicament?"
"Bastard...ya git..." then quietly "hehe...shitbag"

He finds the cane again, under the dresser, then with a gentle touch he brings it down on her exposed lower stomach. "ooooh" she groans.
"Harder?"
"Yeah, no too hard there though, it's more sensitive." He repeats the action firmly but without real force. Each time she twitches then lets out a deep sigh. after 10 more strokes she whispers "Please, I want to cum" from beneath her dress.
"No."
"Please!"
"No." Clem removes his pants and straddles her legs this time. He starts to rub himself, she knows, she can feel the bed and his movements.
"Are you..."
"Yes" He continues. As he gets closer her own breathing deepens and deepens. She's lay before him, wrapped up in her own dress, exposed from the waist down, her thong is moist her backside is red her tummy is also a little red and he knows, or at least hopes, she is passionately, deeply, painfully, wantonly desperate. He cums hard, on her dress, her stomach and her thong.

He flops onto the bed beside her helpless body. "My turn."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'NO'"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I am being cruel tonight."
"You've been quite cruel enough."
"No."
"Bastard!" With that he rolls her onto her side and slaps her bum.
"Language!"

After 5 minutes he takes pity. He simply places his hand on her now cum covered thong and starts to rub. She's come off the boil and it takes a while to re-arouse her. All he wants to do is nod off but he's a gentleman and he tries not to be a selfish lover. She keeps on repeating "Don't stop...don't stop" and this time he doesn't. It's worth the effort, the staying awake. While he's already had his orgasm the satisfaction of feeling her twitch, wince, groan and then shudder makes him feel like a man again.

"Untie me."
"No."
"I need the loo." He removes the now sodden thong and tosses it aside.
"Off you go then."
"Bastard!" That must be word of the day today. It is so funny to watch what is essentially a dishevelled cotton dress with a pair of legs sticking out the bottom try to get out of bed. It's even funnier to watch these legs and the mess of cotton try to walk blindly to the bathroom. Dunk! She hits the dresser, "fuck". Dunk! She hits the door frame, "shit". All the while Clem is sniggering and then she starts to laugh with him. Dunk! He can't see but it sounds like she's hit the shower door, "Bastard! hehehehheeeee". Finally he hears her peeing.

It takes a while to untie her, he's done a good job. In the shower he looks on her striped bottom with a sense of a job well done. He feels a stirring and wonders if he's up for more, she dismisses him, it's late. In the bed she's wearing her full length sating night dress and she feels smooth, sensual and comfortable next to him. She snuggles up tight. "That was an excellent evening Clement Willows, you are a very naughty man."