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ditesdonc · 1 month

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La Lionne

Texte de Pauline Laroche-Vachaud

« La Lionne », à Trept, c’est un nom qui sonne comme une véritable institution, un haut lieu, un cœur encore vivant, au fond, même si ce qu’avaient été ses murs accueille désormais bien d’autres gestes et des mondes tout autres... Entre « La Lionne » où, souvent, 10 heures par jour et 6 jours par semaine quelques 80 ouvrières pouvaient suer à produire 1500 voire 2000 chemises quotidiennes et, désormais, « la Salle des Roches », ouverte aux divers loisirs que nous avons le temps de nous offrir aujourd’hui, rien à faire, la parenté est difficile à trouver. L’usine n’est plus ; elle a fermé à la fin des années 80, après un demi-siècle d’évolution, de modernisation, d’extension et d’honnête pain lourdement gagné.

On aimerait qu’existe un livre qui fasse revivre la vie de ces murs quand tant de femmes s’échinaient aux poignets, aux cols, aux manches, aux boutonnières et aux ourlets, assembler, rabattre, fermer, monter, pointer, finir, plier… On voudrait entendre des anecdotes, rendre un peu de voix, de chair…

On pense pour commencer aux guimpières car, avant l’ouverture de « La Lionne » elle-même, c’étaient elles les tenantes du lieu, elles dont les tâches visaient à enrouler, en bobines éblouissantes, la magie et la splendeur de la tréfilerie, ces fameux fils de faux-or lamés, à un fil de coton ou de soie.

Dans quel but? pour que dans d’autres ateliers, par d’autres ouvrières - une étape, puis une autre -, finissent par s’enluminer les costumes d’apparat, les beaux vêtements de mode, les habits des grands jours. Et que ça brille ! On voudrait aussi, évidemment, entendre ces fameuses chemisières qui, plus discrètes que les tailleurs, moins immédiatement symboles de la vie du village, de son essor, de son savoir-faire, n’ont pourtant rien à envier aux fiers et nombreux carriers. Les chemises conçues par ces femmes étaient bien vendues, pour certaines, à Pierre Cardin, Paco Rabanne, Charles Jourdan… Le prestige est-il moins grand que celui des pierres treptoises composant le Pont Alexandre III, à Paris, ou les piliers d’entrée du Parc de la tête d’or ? Autres usages, autres gloires, mais une excellence qui circule, et loin. Ce n’est pas rien.

On voudrait écouter leurs histoires, les relayer. Tant de petites mains talentueuses, sans tambours ni trompettes, scrupuleuses, précises, tenues à des réalisations impeccables - parfaitement symétriques ou rien, parfaitement régulières ou rien, parfaitement fidèles au modèle ou rien ! La moindre erreur, aussi infime fût-elle, et il n’y avait plus qu’à reprendre l’ouvrage. On voudrait entendre les rires, les blagues, les soupirs, les ragots les espoirs, les lassitudes, les fatigues immenses, les fiertés et les douleurs…

« La Lionne », rien que ce nom, comme trempé d’or et d’acier, semble le signe d’une élégance intraitable…. Le travail, lui, était-il féroce, vorace ? Les jeunes femmes ne faisaient-elle que passer, le temps de trouver un mari et de voler vers d’autres horizons ? Souvent, semble-t-il, mais pas toujours. Certaines dames s’y engagèrent à vie… Quels bruits, associés à quels gestes, quelles machines habitaient ce lieu comme un orchestre perpétuel, horloge suisse aux rendez-vous inébranlables : 7h30-12h/12h45-16h15. (Horaires extensibles à volonté, bien sûr, puisque le paiement à la pièce poussait à rester.) Un jour de neige, une employée, venant de Passins à vélo, eut 15 minutes de retard. Vertement tancée. La production n’attend pas, ne pardonne pas. « Exemple réussi de complète décentralisation », trouve-t-on dans la presse des années 60. Il semble que les ouvriers du textile lyonnais étaient trop chers, trop réactifs sans doute aussi. Alors l’idée de la campagne avait gagné. Hommes et femmes portant différemment la colère et la pénibilité du travail, peut-être, ouvriers et ouvrières moins chers payés, mais pas moins doués. Les archives de l’usine ont toutes disparu à la mort des époux Besse, qui menèrent le lieu comme leur deuxième maison, durant presque 30 ans. Les photos qui restaient ont pris l’eau dans une cave. Il ne reste plus d’écrits, plus d’images, ou très peu. Il vit cependant, encore, quelques souvenirs. Et ils mériteraient bien un livre.

#Trept #usine #lionne #chemiserie #ouvrières #tréfilerie #travail #guimperie #faux-or

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l-estappen · 1 month

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Leashes and Lust ❦

The pet store buzzed with the scent of kibble and the cheerful squeaks of chew toys. Max and I agreed that getting everything Leo needed was a top priority. We had already selected Leo's bed, bowls, toys, carrier bag, and a few cozy blankets, but a small dilemma arose as we approached the leash section.

“What do you think about this leash?” Max asked, holding up a navy blue one.

I wrinkled my nose. "Red would look so much better on him."

"Navy blue is classic, sophisticated —”

"Are you saying red isn't classy?" I interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course it’s not," Max replied with a grin, "It’s too flashy."

“Watch it, Verstappen.” I glanced between the red and navy blue leashes, contemplating our options. "You know, we could always get both.”

"Two leashes? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

I shot Max a playful smirk. "Says the guy who insisted on buying Leo five different toys just because he needs variety ."

Max rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Hey, a dog's gotta have options, Charles. You wouldn't want Leo to get bored, would you?"

"Right, because a dog's happiness depends on the variety of chew toys he has," I teased, nudging him playfully with my elbow as we continued browsing the leash section.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "You know you love spoiling him as much as I do."

"Guilty as charged," I admitted, glancing at Leo nestled in my arms, snoozing away without a care in the world.

"Alright, let's compromise,” Max suggested, placing both the red and navy blue leashes into our shopping basket. "I suppose that could work.”

"Exactly," I stated triumphantly, pleased with our resolution. "We should get some stuff for Jimmy and Sassy as well, so they don’t feel left out."

With Leo resting in the crook of my arm, Max and I made our way to the section dedicated to felines, and a pang of guilt tugged at my heart. I couldn't shake the memory of Sassy's reaction when we first introduced her to Leo. Her suspicion and unease were palpable, her cautious approach to the new addition a stark contrast to Jimmy's immediate curiosity.

"How about a cat tower with a scratching post?" Max suggested.

"Good idea," I said, my voice tinged with remorse as I recalled Sassy subdued response to our puppy.

Max must have noticed the regret lacing my voice because he paused, his gaze softening as he met my eyes. "Don't worry too much about Sassy, Schatje. She just needs some time to adjust."

"I know, it's just... she seemed so unsure... I don't want her to feel neglected or overshadowed."

Max placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "She won't, trust me. We just need to give her the space and time to get used to Leo being part of our family."

I couldn't help but smile at his comforting words, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his as a silent thank you. His tongue traced a delicate path along my lips, seeking entry, and I willingly parted them, inviting him in.

"You're distracting me," I mentioned.

"Is it working?"

I chuckled softly in response and Max reached for a robust cat tree adorned with various platforms and scratching posts. As we made our way to the checkout counter, Max couldn't resist adding a few more items to our growing collection of pet supplies—a feathered wand toy for Jimmy, a plush mouse with a bell inside for Sassy, and a sturdy rope tug toy for Leo.

"Looks like someone's really embracing their inner pampered dad," I remarked as we waited in line to pay.

Max laughed, shaking his head. "A good pet parent makes sure all their babies are happy and well-cared for."

"Sure, sure," I teased, "Next thing you know, you'll be scheduling spa days for them."

Max raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. "That's not a bad idea. The cats could use a little paw massage."

After paying for our pet supplies, we made our way out of the store and towards the Café de Paris where Alexandre already waited for us.

"Looks like we've got a bit of a crowd today," Max observed, glancing at the sea of eager faces already making their way in our direction.

Before I could retort, a group of excited fans approached us, their phones at the ready. "Charles! Max! Can we get a picture with you guys?"

Max flashed his signature grin, "We are in a hurry! Just one quick snap, alright?"

I smiled in agreement, though I couldn't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness as I pulled Leo closer to my chest, shielding him from the grabbing hands.

As the phones started to click away around us, Leo stirred in my arms, the sudden sounds waking him from his peaceful slumber. His tiny yawn elicited a chorus of "awws" from the onlookers, who were quick to snap a few more pictures as we continued on our way to the Café.

Leo, now fully awake, squirmed in my arms, his curiosity piqued by the new sights and sounds surrounding him. His tiny paws pushed against my chest as he craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion around us.

"Easy there, little guy," I murmured, adjusting my hold on him as we navigated through the growing crowd. Tuned in to my emotions, Max stepped in front of me, effectively blocking the eager fans from getting too close. The hand that was not burdened with shopping bags found its way to my waist, offering a reassuring squeeze as he led the way.

As we finally reached the entrance of Café de Paris, a wave of relief washed over me. Max held the door open for me, and I stepped inside, grateful for the respite from the bustling crowd. Just before Max followed me in, he turned back to the fans gathered outside, a warm smile on his face. "Thanks, guys. We appreciate your support."

"That was nice of you," I commented when Max finally stepped inside the café, joining me at the door.

Max shrugged modestly. "Are you okay? You seemed nervous..."

“I was nervous because of Leo," I admitted, glancing down at the small bundle of fur. "I don’t want him to get overwhelmed by our legion of fans."

Max's expression softened as he reached out to stroke my cheek gently. "I understand, Schatje. But it's something that he will need to get used to."

I leaned into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his hand against my skin. "I know, Max. It's just... I want everything to go smoothly from now on."

Max's thumb brushed lightly against my cheekbone, his gaze unwavering. "And it will, Charles. We'll make sure of it. Stop worrying, Sassy will come around."

I nodded in response to Max's reassurance as we made our way through the café, but inside, doubts still lingered. Despite his comforting words, the worry for Leo's well-being and the adjustment to our newfound family dynamics weighed heavily on my mind.

Our friend Alexandre was already waiting for us on the terrace, a warm smile lighting up his face as he waved us over to join him. As we settled into our seats, the vibrant atmosphere of the terrace and the familiar sight of our friend provided a welcome distraction from my worries.

*******************************************************************

As the music's sensual beat shifted, Amazónico morphed from a restaurant into a vibrant bar, the air now filled with sensual Bossa Nova rhythms. Laughter and chatter mingled with the music, creating an atmosphere of celebration befitting Joris's birthday party. Dim lights cast a seductive glow over the space, sparking excitement within me as I watched Charles lean closer.

"Care to dance?" he asked, his mouth mere inches from my ear. My heart skipped a beat as I met Charles's playful gaze, a surge of affection warming my chest. Despite the tensions we faced earlier at home with Sassy, seeing him carefree and playful now was a welcomed sight.

"I'd love to," I replied, feeling a rush of excitement as he took my hand, the pull of his strong grasp urging me onto the dance floor.

Charles swayed his hips to the beat, and I couldn't help but admire the fluidity of his movements. We navigated through the throng of people, my hand resting on the small of his back as we searched for an open space on the dance floor. When we found it, Charles pressed his back against my chest, his hips undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm that sent shivers down my spine.

“Do you have no shame?” I questioned into his ear, my hands instinctively finding their place on his hips, pulling him closer.

"Pas du tout," he admitted.

As Charles ground back against me to the pulsating rhythm of the song, I instinctively moved in sync with him, and when he pressed his ass against my growing erection, a deep, resonant groan escaped my lips.

"You're driving me crazy," I confessed, tucking my fingertips up the front of his t-shirt and pressing against his stomach as I nuzzled his neck.

Charles turned in my arms, his hands hooking around the back of my neck. My gaze flicked down to his mouth for a fleeting moment before meeting his eyes again, our hips bumping and grounding into each other.

"And you are making me hard," Charles added.

Unable to resist any longer, I leaned in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Our mouths met with a fierce urgency, every stroke, every nip and tug, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through us. I slid my thigh between Charles’ legs, offering him a firm surface to grind against, and was rewarded with the reverberation of his moan against my lips. His hands roamed over my back, drawing me closer, as he shamelessly ground his hips against my thigh.

Fuck, this is getting out of hand and I was the one to blame.

"Charles," I warned between kisses, “We need to slow down.”

"I don’t want to slow down," he breathed against my skin. "I want you."

I pulled away slightly to reason with him, but my heart raced with desire as I took him in. Charles's usually emerald-green eyes darkened to a shade of forest green, burning with an intensity that told me that there was no backing up.

"Don't fight this," he whispered, his voice husky with need, "You want it just as much as I do."

I swallowed hard, torn between the magnetic pull of his desire and the rational voice in my head urging caution. But when Charles's tongue darted out to moisten his swollen lips, rationality seemed to fade away, drowned out by the primal urge that surged through me. With a knowing smirk, Charles reached for my hand and tugged me off the dance floor. Someone from our group whooped and hollered at us as we passed by, and with that fleeting devil-may-care attitude, which came out to play once in a while, Charles was quick to flip them off.

My pulse raced with anticipation as he pulled me towards a dimly lit hallway and swung open the first door he found.

"Here," Charles said, pushing me inside what I assumed to be a stall designated for people with disabilities and closing the door behind us with a resounding thud.

I edged across the small space, crossing my arms nonchalantly against my chest as my back hit the opposite wall.

“Quite a show that we put on the dance floor. I'm sure the internet will have a blast,” I remarked.

Charles shrugged. “Couldn’t care less.”

As he began to close the distance between us, a commanding tone crept into my voice. "Stop right there."

"Pourquoi?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of neediness.

"Because I said so," I stated firmly, my gaze unwavering as I held his.

A flicker of defiance danced in Charles' eyes, but he thought better of it and took a step back. Pleased with his reaction, I let my gaze roam over him, taking in every detail of his disheveled appearance. His beige Dior t-shirt hugged his chest just right, emphasizing the contours of his muscles, while his dark, loose jeans hung low on his hips, drawing my attention to the slight bulge beneath. My eyes lingered on the subtle outline of his erection, a testament to our dance floor rendezvous. His chestnut hair was tousled, his lips swollen, and his eyes, dark with desire.

"Enjoying the view?" the tease prompted, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

"You bet I am," I replied, my tone low and husky. "Get over here."

As my order hit Charles's ears, the only defiance glinting in his eyes was, Try and stop me. But tonight, I wasn’t waiting for him to comply. As soon as he was within my reach, I grabbed his hand, pulled him towards me, and spun him around so that he was facing the wall against which I was leaning.

My body was an immediate presence behind him - one of my hands moved around to the button of his jeans, my mouth came down to his ear, and as my breath brushed against it, a shiver of anticipation raced up his spine.

“I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” I moaned when he ground his ass back against my erection, “And I haven’t even gotten your pants undone yet.”

Charles blindly reached for the hand I was now using to unzip him, and when he found it, he guided it inside his open pants, behind the material of his trunks, and then he curled his hand over the top of mine where he most wanted it - on his aching dick.

“Oh que oui.”

My chuckle was arrogant as hell, and the strong, solid strokes I began had his hips punching forward to fuck my fist.

“That’s what you want?” I wondered by his ear, and Charles’s hand left his trunks to come out and grab at my thigh for something to hang on to.

“C'est ça,” he agreed, as I twisted my hand around the tip of his cock and he thrust into the touch. He bit his lip as he continued to rock his hips, my hand providing the perfect amount of friction to torment but not quite get him there.

“So…what’s next?” I asked. “We can’t just stand here like this all night.” I stopped moving my hand, and Charles clenched his fingers in my thigh.

“Putain, ne t'arrête pas.”

“Then answer my question.” My demand had his dick throbbing. “Come on, Schatje.” My teeth nipped at the shell of his ear, and Charles’s jaw bunched. “I’ll do anything. But I wanna hear you ask for it.”

“Take my goddamn pants off.”

My fingers were in either side of his jeans, yanking them, and his trunks, over his ass to his thighs. “Hands up. Legs spread. As wide as these jeans of yours will let you get’em.”

Charles placed his palms against the wall and widened his stance. I then crowded in behind him, and the rough denim grazed Charles’s naked ass as I planted a hand by either side of the ones he had on the wall.

“Mmm.” I smoothed a palm over the rounded curve of Charles' ass. “It’s gonna be a real tight fit in here tonight.”

"Sainte merde, Max." Charles swore, bucking back against me, needing some kind of contact.

“So…what’s next?”

"Maybe I just want to rub against you," the teasing taunt slipped past Charles's lips before he thought better of it, but being in the mood I was in, I wasn't about to let him get away with it.

"Like this?" I asked, feeling the anticipation rising as I began to roll my hips, grinding my erection up and down his crack.

Charles’s desperate plea escaped his lips, "Mon Dieu, Max. Get rid of your fucking clothes."

The familiar rustling of fabric filled the confined space as I quickly shed my clothes and fished a lube packet from my wallet. It didn’t take but a few seconds, and then I was back, wedging my lubed dick right where Charles wanted it most. The sound that escaped his throat as my cock slid along the slick crevice of his ass was nothing short of desperate.

“Verdomme, Charles,” I exclaimed as I ran my fingers through the pre-cum I’d left all over his skin, making him shudder.

“Dedans…” Charles erupted on a rush of air. “Mon Dieu… Put something in me.”

I slipped my slick fingers down the heated skin of Charles’s narrow cleft, and when the pads of my fingers found his hole and massaged over the top of it, he cursed. I then pushed a finger in nice and deep, the way he loved it, and when his head fell forward and his shoulders bunched, my cock throbbed.

“Yeah, Charles. Go crazy for me. I wanna watch,” I proclaimed as I withdrew my index finger and then slid it back inside.

“Max,” Charles roared as I added a second to the mix, rubbing and pushing at the entrance I was stretching.

“Vraag me erom.” At my words, Charles turned his head, and I saw that his pupils were blown and his teeth clenched. “I want to hear you. Ask me, Charles.” I added slight pressure to his hole, and his breath rushed out.

“Tu vas payer pour ça.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I declared, chuckling at his threat as my fingertips entered him. “Now come on…” I continued, twisting my hand. “Beg me for it.”

“You goddamn sadist. If you don’t hurry up and fuck me with something, I—”

That was as far as Charles got because, as far as begging went, that demand was music to my ears, and I was right there thrusting two fingers inside him. Charles arched back, pushing his cock through his fist as the intense pleasure of having my fingers inside him hit. Pulling those fingers free, I added a third, massaging over Charles’s prostate.

“Putain,” he swore, clenching his tight fist around the base of his cock.

My mouth found his neck as I dragged my tongue up the line of it, biting down gently. My cock bumped against Charles’s ass cheek as I continued to slowly stretch him, bringing him to the brink time and time again.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” I declared against his cheek, withdrawing my fingers. His hole clenched at the loss, craving exactly that. My hand landed on the back of his neck.

“You might want to brace yourself,” I suggested, giving him a rough shove forward. His left hand shot up to support himself against the wall.

“That’s it,” I said as my other fingers dug into his hip. The head of my cock nudged against his entrance. “Now, Charles. Say it.”

And the words flew from his mouth, unstoppable. “Baise-moi, Max. You—”

I was balls deep inside him before he finished his demand. His whimper echoed around us, just as I had predicted.

“Merdeeeee.”

The hand that I had in the back of Charles neck tightened as I withdrew, then thrust forward, drilling into him. The strength of that thrust had him stumbling slightly, but I pulled him back against me, his spine flush against my chest.

“Nom de Dieu, that’s…” His voice cracked, leaving him as my arm wound around his waist, taking hold of his cock.

“Diep. I’m so fucking deep, and your ass is so tight.” I stroked my fist up to the head of his dick, and he groaned at the intense pleasure.

“Any final requests?” I asked, my voice ragged.

“Fuck me until I can’t walk.”

I close my fist around his cock, and I gave it a rough pull as my hips surged forward. Then I plastered him against the wall with his arms drawn up over his head, holding them in place as I drove inside of him.

There was nothing gentle about what happened next. I grabbed his hip to hold him still as I fucked into him relentlessly.

“Ah putain…merde,” he exclaimed, his voice failing him.

“Give me your tongue,” I demanded, and his head turned so my mouth could find his, and then Charles went wild.

His hands twisted and clawed above him, trying to get leverage, until I pinned them in place. My cock throbbed inside him, and he shut his eyes, surrendering to the greedy, dark side of himself.

“Déplace-toi,” he uttered between clenched teeth, and when I held his stare, he whipped his head to the other side, sinking his teeth into my bicep.

“Fuuuck” I cursed loudly. My arm stung where Charles had just bitten me, and as I held onto his hips, I relished the feeling.

With his hands on the wall and his legs barely parted due to the confines of his jeans, Charles's hot hole was a challenge I was enjoying getting my dick in and out of. I couldn't seem to temper my own fevered response to the way he was reacting to me, and hell if I wanted to.

"Yes. Mon Dieu. Fucking harder, Max." Charles's words were clipped, his movements now methodical as his hand moved in time with his pistoning hips as he ruthlessly chased after the climax building in him.

The grunts echoing throughout the floor were accompanied by curses and threats that made my lips curl and my balls tingle. I'd always loved a good argument with Charles, and I enjoyed the fight for dominance between us during sex. And hell if I wasn't about to bask in the satisfaction I was about to take in filling Charles's ass in the most primal way I could.

With one hand on Charles's hip, I raised my other to grip the back of his neck again, and the second I did, Charles started to beg. Deeper, harder, more, now—Charles wanted anything I was willing to give, and, luckily for him, tonight, that was everything.

I wasn't sure how long it took the two of us then. Minutes? Seconds? I had no clue. It was as though time stopped as every nerve ending in my body lit on fire.

A harsh growl left my throat as Charles's entire body arched back into me, his muscles tightening around me as if trying to draw me even deeper inside him.

"Maaax," he whined, his body trembling against mine, and I could feel the pulsating waves of his release as he came all over the wall.

Watching him lose himself in the throes of ecstasy only heightened my own arousal, and I continued to move within him, driving deeper and harder until I couldn't hold back any longer. With a primal grunt, I came, emptying myself inside Charles's ass.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, Charles and I remained entwined, our bodies still humming with shared pleasure. With breathless moans, we let gravity take hold, and sort of just fell onto the hard floor, holding onto each other tight.

The sudden change in perspective brought a new intensity to our closeness. I felt every beat of Charles's heart against my own chest, every rise and fall of his breath as he nestled against me. The floor was cold against our skin, but being tangled up together made it feel cozy. "You okay there, Schatje?"

Charles let out a contented sigh. "Mmm, more than okay," he replied, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

I chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through our entwined bodies. "Glad to hear that," I said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "But seriously, I might have gone a bit hard on you there. Are you sure you're not sore?"

Charles shifted slightly, his eyes meeting mine. "I'm sore in all the right places. I think you might need to carry me out of here."

"I will give you a piggyback ride," I whispered against his lips, my heart swelling with love.

#AO3 #charles leclerc/max verstappen #lestappen fic #charles leclerc #max verstappen #leo leclerc #jimmy&sassy #lestappenoneshots

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