AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following is restricted to OVER 17s ONLY! The latter parts of this story contain explicit language and descriptions. Please do not let the little ones read this -- it will only confuse them. And please do not inundate FrolloFreak's InBox with complaints --- You have been warned!
Claude and I returned to the Palace of Justice, a little tired, yet
exhilarated, from a wonderful, fun-filled day. I was ecstatic that Claude
had enjoyed my special surprise at the Feast of Fools. On the way home,
he couldn't stop praising my friends and me for making "this Festival
a truly memorable experience."
Just before we left the Place de Notre-Dame, we --- my friends and I ---
were summoned before the King. His Majesty paid the utmost of compliments.
"For once", His Majesty privately said to me, "I believe
Frollo actually enjoyed himself."
The King was right, for Claude Frollo had a wonderful time, despite the
fact that his adopted son, Quasi; and his brother, Jehan, capped off an
already splendid afternoon of entertainment.
Quasi and Jehan...the Blues Brothers! Quas really kicked a** on that harmonica...and Jehan...singing! That was too much...everything was fantastic! And now, I'm a little tired...
"Umm...Claude?", I asked, kicking off my purple high-heeled
boots after I flopped down on the bed, "I'm a little tired right now,
you know. All that activity really wore me out." Claude sat down next
to me, kissed me, and said tenderly, "Get some rest, dear Nisha. I
have to attend to some minor business, then I'll be up shortly."
He kissed me again. "I want to thank you again for everything."
Claude then laughed, saying, "Using my brother, and Quasimodo! I wouldn't
doubt that all of Paris is buzzing about..."
Claude's amusement was so great that he couldn't stop laughing. I just
threw my arms around him and told him that I was "pleased that you're
pleased."
"Really, baby. I did it all for you, and I'd do it all over again."
Claude kissed me again, then left the room.
All alone in his bedchanber, I slipped off my jacket, then reclined on the bed. Yes..this has been a wonderful day...but I'm a little winded...A short nap should do the trick...Then, when Claude returns...Well...Let the good times roll!
++++++
It must have been close to dusk, for the cathedral bells woke me. Good ol' Quasi...right on time...did I sleep that long? Where's Claude?
I immediately got up, stripped off my clothes, then quickly washed up. Medieval idea of hygiene...I'm a child of the 20th Century! Oh well...make do...I'm clean...Now, spritz on a little fragrance...
I then slipped into a daringly short nightgown. And it was a sexy little
thing! It was of smooth, leopard-printed satin, thigh-high short, with
a low neckline, and thin, spaghetti straps that had a tendency to slip
from my shoulders.
I checked out my reflection in the mirror, and admired how the gown clinged
to my every curve, how it flared at the bottom, just skimming my thighs.
And I liked my legs --- full and shapely, and still glistening from the
lotion I had just applied.
Check yourself out! All curvy and plump...not fat...but I did put on a few...er..."egg nog inches" over the holidays. But look at the skin...nice and smooth...like dark, hot caramel sauce. Glad I take care of my skin...can't have Claude put his hands on dry, ashy skin...His skin's pretty, too...that smooth, pale...on him it's beautiful...Hmm...His cool, pale vanilla against my hot caramel...My, my, my...Now that's tasty!
I walked over to my special boombox that needs no electricity. Jacki gave Claude and me that fantastic machine last summer, as a special anniversary gift. I rifled through my personal CD collection and selected an assortment of Prince songs.
A little of that Minneapolis funk...Let's see...Purple Rain...Dirty Mind...Controversy...Hey! What's this? Morris Day and the Time! Vanity6! Apollonia! I forgot I brought these...OK...load 'em up...hit 'play'...Let's jam...
Within seconds, I was moving my body to the funky, pounding rhythms of Prince and the Revolution:
I get Delirious
Whenever you're near...
My body moved and grooved to the rocking, jungle-like beat. I loved the way my breasts bobbed as I continued to shimmy to the sounds. I had let my hair down, feeling my dark "fried and laid to the side"* locks brush against my shoulders. I even sang along with each song, from Let's Go Crazy to Take Me With U.
I don't care where we go
I don't care what we do
I don't care pretty baby
Just Take Me With U
Now, I was unaware that I had an audience, for I heard distinctive laughter from behind.
"And you said you were tired."
I swirled around only to see Claude, who just stood there, leaning against
the bedpost, his arms folded. He was smiling broadly, and eyeing me up
and down. And I do believe he was swaying his body to the music. Claude
looked so different without his hat and epaulets; he seemed relaxed in
his plush, black velvet robe.
I was still dancing to something...I think it was Little Red Corvette.
I didn't even think of my attire, or lack, thereof, nor of my sensual body
movements.
I bopped over to Claude, kissed his lips,and said as I slapped my rounded
bottom, "Sugarbritches, I'm just trying to work off some of these
extra inches I put on. You know, all that egg nog, cookies, chocolate cake..."
Claude wriggled up to me, took me into his arms, and told me, "Nisha,
dearest. I love your body --- Such voluptuousness! Yet so shapely, and
oh-so firm."
I felt his hands caress my waist, then my hips. Claude smiled with sensual
delight. "As for the 'extra inches'..."
He stopped momentarily to lick my shoulder; a strap had slid off, temptingly.
Then Claude worked his tongue up my neck as he finished, "...They
seem to have settled in ALL the right places."
He growled and snarled like a tiger in heat as he rammed his tongue
through my open lips. I could feel Claude's hot, hungry tongue probe the
inside of my mouth; I couldn't help but respond.
His hands were EVERYWHERE! Now I wished I had resisted wearing this
short nightie....He's really getting turned on...Damn! His hands...His
teeth...His tongue...All Over!
I felt the familiar tickle of desire building inside me; my body shivered, then squirmed pleasurably from his every touch. But something in the back of my mind said that tonight was not going to be just another night of passion. Oh no! Claude and I are gonna have us a good time...Now, change the music...
"Umm...Claude...umm", I said, extracting my tongue from his
mouth. He panted and moaned, demanding why I stopped. "And it felt
so...so deliciously good..." , Claude breathlessly said.
"Nothing, sugarbritches. Just wanna change the music. Prince may be
hot and sexy, but..." I walked over to the boombox, hoping to stall
for time. I had a little surprise cooked up for Claude, and I was anxious
to give him something I knew he would never forget. When I turned around,
Claude was gone!
Where'd he go? I hope I didn't upset him, tearing away from him like that...
I then heard a booming voice come from the other end of the room. "Cast your lovely brown eyes on this!"
I wheeled around and my eyes just about popped out of my head. "Claude Frollo! What do you have on?!"
It wasn't much. Claude Frollo stood before my eyes clad only in his hose. And these weren't any ordinary hose. Claude was wearing skintight, shiny, black spandex hose. The fabric shimmered in all the right places; the hose fit in all the right places. Every sensuous contour, every bulge -- well, only one REAL bulge -- was expertly revealed. One thing about spandex -- it doesn't lie.
Come on, Nisha...put your eyes back in your head...You've seen him in less...What's so different, now?...Just spandex hose...Where did he find SPANDEX?! Oh...that's right...I bought those at Cilla's...I bought several...had to special order... But...Damn! He looks good!
"I'm sorry to have deserted you like that, Danisha. But I simply
had to slip into something...more comfortable." Claude slinked and
slithered his way towards me, his body sensuously moving to the beat of
the music. He swept me in his arms, and began rocking and swaying with
me.
"Claude?", I asked. "Uh..baby? You're not planning any surprises,
are you?" Claude laughed, then kissed me deeply, while I allowed my
hands to caress his long, slender body.
Mmm...feels so good to stroke his body like this...and he's not really skinny...but nice and slim...graceful...sensuous....hard-muscled. Nice round butt...long legs...everything about him is long...Oooh! Including...THAT!
Now, I didn't mean for my hand to slip under that waistband. I didn't mean for my fingers to start undoing laces
"Nisha!", Claude playfully scolded. My hands immediately left that forbidden zone.
Claude then cooed in my ear, allowing his tongue to graze the lobe,
"Not so fast, my love. Wait between caresses. Otherwise the thrill
of the old sensations will dull us to the new." He then chuckled softly
as his hands gently squeezed my buttocks, his pelvis slowly grinding against
mine.
"I want to enjoy every minute, every inch of you. Just as I want you
to enjoy every minute, every inch of me." Claude softly laughed as
he continued to grind his pelvis against mine, his tongue snaking its way
between my lips.
"Every inch...every last, glorious inch", I heard him murmur, while he kept thrusting himself against me. I felt the sudden hardness, sensed his blood racing to private, exotic locales.
Once again, my hands reached for the laces, but I resisted, for I wanted to preface this sultry session with something that would blow Claude Frollo's mind. "Sugarbritches", I cooed, leading him to the bed, "why don't you lie back, relax, and let Danisha take care of you thisaway."
I then walked over to the CD player, popped in a disc, and began to sing along with Morris Day and The Time. My body rocked to the wild, primitive, funky beat. Claude's eyes never wavered from my body. I could tell he was getting aroused, just from the expression on his face, and, the ever-growing bulge that threatened to burst through his hose.
"Nisha...darling...You are too sensual for words." Claude's
eyes followed my every movement, his ears taking in every lyric of the
song.
And they were special lyrics, written by me, especially for this session.
I shimmied up to Claude, who now leaned back on the bed, his eyes taking in every detail, his body slightly rocking to the rhythms.
"Honey, I want you lie still, relax. I'm gonna do something that will blow your mind. . Get yourself ready, 'cause here I go."
*"Fried and laid to the side" -- an old '70s expression for Black hair that's been pressed or relaxed, as opposed to the Afro, or 'natural'
BEFORE MOVING ON:
Part Two becomes VERY explicit. Please do not read if:
Click on the song, then go on to SCENE 2
Copyright@1998 by FrolloFreak®
