Chapter 12
Caroline - Part 1
When Arlette and I arrived at the bistro, Caroline and Claude, who had gone there directly from work, were already waiting. Claude did the introductions. I ignored Caroline's outstretched hand and kissed her on both cheeks. She looked wonderful. Her pitch-black hair and dark eyes contrasted beautifully with her pale skin, just as Claude had told us. And her mouth! Her full lips were always slightly apart. It made me think that she was permanently ready to plant a kiss on a cock head in front of her.
The pin-stripe suit and loose pullover she wore did a good job of hiding her figure but showed just enough for my trained eyes to detect that there probably was a magnificent body hidden beneath all these clothes.
The situation was too artificial for the conversation to flow naturally. Nobody felt at ease. The person who was most interested in the get-together was Claude because he was hoping somehow that he might persuade Caroline to sleep with him. This wasn't likely to happen soon, but he wanted to maintain a closer social contact, hoping he might eventually get what he wanted. However, this evening his desire had to take a back seat as he played the role of the one who had made Caroline's encounter with me possible.
Caroline probably wasn't all that keen on meeting me but kept up the façade because she had once told Claude that she'd rather go out with me than with him.
I myself never thought that I would fit into the famous-model-meets-fan role, simply because I didn't consider myself a famous model. So I didn't find it easy to contribute.
And Arlette? Arlette had come along to prove to herself and anybody else what a liberated woman she was and that it didn't bother her to see her boyfriend chase another woman.
We ordered some wine to go with our meal. Something light because we didn't want to get drunk; we just hoped that a little alcohol might help to break the ice.
"It's funny how some things you do take on a life of their own," I said to no-one in particular.
I had decided to steer the conversation to the infamous poster, a subject which had slightly erotic undertones, to see how Caroline would react to this.
"When I posed for that poster I did not imagine that it would end up on your office wall, that my room-mate's boyfriend would see it and later recognize me and that we would be going to Le Chambre Séparée as a result of it. How did you actually get this poster?"
I had turned to Caroline who had been awfully quiet, trying to get her involved in the conversation.
"Yes, it's strange how it turned out. I got the poster from the shop where I usually buy my lingerie. The owner knows my taste and immediately told me about the new products which were about to be launched. I adored what I saw and felt quite frustrated when he told me that the products were not yet on the market. Anyway, I asked him if I could have the poster. He said he would still need it as an attention-catcher for the survey but as soon as the survey period ended he would let me have it. That's how I got it. And I think you look very sexy on that picture."
Arlette found that this was the right moment to join in. "So you like to buy sexy underwear?" she asked, and after Caroline had nodded, she continued, giving me a little wink, "I know somebody who thinks it's kind of like a gift wrap, a way of giving yourself to your partner. What do you think about that idea?"
"Hmm, I don't have anybody to give myself to. I just like to wear these silken lacy nothings because they make me feel..." Caroline hesitated for a moment, "desirable."
"Ah, so you do want to look and feel desirable?" This time it was Claude who joined in.
"Yes, but before you get the wrong idea, it's not the kind of desire that men think of all the time."
It was only a short walk from the bistro to Le Chambre Séparée. When we arrived there, the place was starting to fill up. The entrance to Le Chambre Séparée looks a little like the lobby of a five star hotel with guests checking in and finalizing the requirements for their rooms.
As we walked towards the reception desk a man patted Claude on the shoulder and said, "You're a lucky fellow, young man."
He was referring to the fact that Claude was arriving at Le Chambre Séparée accompanied by three attractive females, something most men can only dream of. I had never thought about what effect this might have had on Claude's ego.
I told the clerk my name. He checked his computer, looked back at me, seeming a little surprised, and then handed me four keys. "You're in the VIP suite on the third level. I hope you all have a good time at Le Chambre Séparée," he said with a smile.
Access to the elevators and the rooms is controlled by small micro chips embedded into little pieces of plastic which function as keys. They come on an adjustable strap which allows them to be worn around one's neck, wrist or any other place one might chose. They open doors without needing to be inserted into any slot or similar device and prevent people from strolling - accidentally or intentionally - into places where they're not supposed to go. The chips also serve as charge mechanism and allow guests to put any food, drinks or other items they order on their bill.
Our box faced the stage and offered just about everything one might expect from a top class lover's nest. The adjoining room had two double beds and a sliding wall which could be used to create two separate bedrooms. There was also a fully equipped bathroom including a Jacuzzi large enough for four people.
Soon after we arrived, Caroline excused herself and went to the bathroom 'to powder her nose'. Claude, Arlette and I looked at each other, all thinking that this meant she would 'slip into something more comfortable'.
Arlette took the opportunity to take off the dress she had been wearing. Underneath she wore a see-through baby doll nighty and a matching thong. Her seamless suntan had started to fade a little but she was still very proud of it and didn't want to miss the opportunity to display it to everybody in this place - and nobody could say she was naked.
"It seems like you've caught on to this gift-wrap idea," I said jokingly. I had prepared for the occasion by wearing the black bra and panty combination from the famous poster with the intention of shedding my dress at a convenient time and letting everybody appreciate that picture in the flesh. I had also brought along an identical set, only in white, for Caroline to wear. But I decided not to rush things and stayed the way I was, wearing a simple, unspectacular black dress.
The performance had just started with a number called 'Carnival in Rio'. The number probably didn't have much in common with the real event in Rio, but that didn't matter. The rhythm was contagious, the girls were beautiful, and their costumes, although miniscule, had everybody wonder what treasures might lie hidden beneath them. The audience loved it.
When the doorbell rang, I went to answer the door. It was a waiter carrying an ice bucket, a bottle of Champagne and four glasses.
"There must be a mistake," I said, "we didn't order any Champagne."
"This bottle comes with the compliments of Monsieur Meunier," the waiter said, pushing past me and depositing everything on a little table. "He apologizes for not being able to be with you tonight and hopes that you have a wonderful time. If you require anything else, please let me know. It's all on Monsieur Meunier."
We asked the waiter not to open the bottle as we were still waiting for Caroline.
When Caroline returned she was still wearing the same clothes as before, so we all felt a little disappointed. She didn't seem very pleased about the Champagne and at first didn't want to drink any. But we jointly convinced her that she had to at least join us in a toast to our generous host.
The dancers had completed their first performance and the band was now playing some smoochy number to give the audience a chance for some close encounters of the sensual kind.
"Let's dance," said Arlette, grabbing Claude by the hand and pulling him after her.
I watched the two leave, then I turned to Caroline and asked, "Shall we dance too?"
She agreed, reluctantly. When I suggested that she would be more comfortable without her jacket, she took it off, just as reluctantly, and followed me to the dance floor.
She was about two inches taller than me but she let me take the lead. I danced with her cheek-to-cheek, holding her body close to mine. As we moved through the multitude of dancers we happened to meet Arlette and Claude. He had put his hands under her baby doll top and was caressing one of her breasts. This had caused the garment to move up and gave everybody a good view of her thong-framed bottom.
"They're really enjoying themselves," I said to Caroline, "shall we do the same?" With that I put one of my hands under her pullover, hoping I might be able to move up to her breasts.
The moment my fingers touched her skin she froze. With an expression of terror in her face she moved away from me and said, "No, please, don't. It's all so sordid. Please, can we go back to the box."
Her reaction surprised me, but I wasn't going to force her into anything she didn't want, so I followed her back to our box. On the way I concluded that she had probably never been touched by another woman, and had quite clearly never slept with a man - a double virgin!
Caroline sat down on the bed, supporting her head in her hands, looking down at the floor. I slid the dividing wall into place, assuming that Arlette and Claude would soon want to use one of the beds in privacy.
Then I sat down next to Caroline and put my arm around her shoulder.
"Listen, Caroline," I said gently, "I'm sorry if I went too far too soon. I just thought if you don't want to be desired by a man, you would prefer to be desired by a woman. And all this talk about sexy lingerie made me think you already had some experience. Look, I've even put on the clothes from the poster to get you interested in me."
I got up, undid the zipper of my dress and let it drop to the floor. I stood in front of her naked except for a tiny bra and some miniscule panties. She looked up and seemed impressed.
"You are very beautiful," she said almost inaudibly.
"I'm sure you're at least as beautiful as I am," I responded. "Look I've brought exactly the same model for you to wear. Would you like to try it on?"
She looked at the bundle of frilly textile in my outstretched hand and was clearly tempted. "Only if you promise not to look," she finally said.
I went out on the balcony watching the multitude dance in close embrace. When I returned to the bedroom Caroline sat huddled together on one corner of the bed like a trapped animal, covering herself with her arms as if she were ashamed of her body.
In spite of her efforts, she was not able to completely conceal her beauty. The sheer white lingerie almost matched the colour of her skin, her breasts seemed to be wanting to jump from their lacy prison. And the legs! It seemed that her slender legs would never end. If women were capable of getting hard-ons I would have had a huge erection, just from looking at those legs. Oh, how I longed to trail my tongue along them until I reached the point where they met!
But such thoughts seemed to be idle fantasy, because she could hardly bear letting me look at her, let alone touch her.
"God, you look fantastic," I said, "why don't you stand up and let me have a look at you?"
"It is an offence, punishable with expulsion, to try to entice members of the teaching body."
Where on earth did that come from? She had pronounced the sentence in a trance-like voice, as if reciting some rule book she had memorized. Was this some trauma she had experienced? Had she been thrown out of a school for displaying her underwear, or possibly more, to a teacher? I didn't know how to handle this sudden outburst from deep inside her psyche and made the common mistake of concluding 'If you don't understand it, ignore it'.
I wanted her to become comfortable with her semi-nakedness by letting her see that I was comfortable that way. I walked deliberately around the room from one end to the other, briefly went out to our balcony to check what was happening outside and then returned. Then I lay down on one side of the bed, hoping she would lie down next to me. That didn't happen but she did turn around to see what I was doing and it seemed to me that she was a little more open, relaxing her cover a little.
"Did you ever feel like touching another woman, caressing her most intimate parts?" I asked, trying to make it clear that I would be available if she felt like trying out what that felt like. She didn't react.
I tried again. "Did you ever long to be caressed or kissed all over your body by another woman?" Still no reaction.
"Do you never touch yourself, your breasts, between your legs, and feel that beautiful sensation of lust?"
She looked at me as if she didn't have a clue what I was talking about.
I said, "Before I used to go out with men I had a very close relationship with another girl. We used to spend hours lying on the bed like this - well, not actually like this, we didn't have a stitch on - bringing each other off. I used to enjoy that very much. Would you like to try it?"
She barely acknowledged that she had heard my voice but didn't react to my suggestion. I decided that a practical demonstration might help. I took off my bra and started pressing my breasts against each other to make the nipples stand upright. Then I ran one of my fingers around one nipple. I got hold of her hand an placed it on one of my breasts. It lay there without moving.
In the other half of the room I could hear Claude and Arlette returning from the dance floor. They noticed that the dividing wall had been moved into position. Arlette said, "I think they're at it," and Claude replied, "Let's do it too."
They seemed to be quite excited and hot for each other. Soon I could hear them dropping onto the bed and only a few seconds later there were the unmistakable sounds of two people making love. In my mind I pictured Arlette lying on her back with her legs spread wide and Claude on top of her, pounding his hard cock into her moist pussy.
As the rhythm of the humping got faster I took Caroline's hand and slipped it inside my panties. I hoped somehow that the activity next door might inspire her to move her fingers in the same rhythm.
The humping noise behind the wall soon stopped. Now I could hear Arlette complain. "Oh no, not again! You promised you would be slower this time, you would wait for me!"
Then there was Claude's voice. "I'm sorry, I just got so terribly excited by it all. It's going to be better next time, I promise. There will be a next time, won't there?"
Arlette mumbled something which indicated that she hadn't completely given up on him, then the room became quiet again.
"Oh dear," I thought to myself, "their relationship isn't going too well either."
I could feel my frustration rise. Caroline's hand rested on my sex, but from what I could tell it didn't make any difference to her if it rested on my pussy or on a dead fish. There wasn't a spark of desire in sight. My own sex life was going very well, thank you very much. I didn't have any need to seduce her. Why should I have to struggle with other people's hang-ups?
I removed Caroline's hand from my panties, got up from the bed and put on my bra. Then I got her clothes which she had placed neatly folded on a chair and handed them to her.
"We don't have to do this, if you don't feel like it. Let's get dressed and watch the show."
She hesitated and looked towards the dividing wall. Maybe she was worried what the others might think, or maybe she was worried that they might hear me.
I lowered my voice and said, "We don't need to tell anybody what happened or didn't happen between us. We'll just behave like two discreet lovers."
She still didn't want to take her clothes from me.
"I think I can do this, but I need your help. I need you to tell me," she said timidly.
"You mean teach you?"
"No. Order me."
Flashbacks of my relationship with Charlotte passed through my mind. Of course, that had been a completely different situation, but I had been only too happy to submit to Charlotte's wishes because it meant I wasn't responsible for what I did, I didn't have to feel any guilt. Could it be that Caroline needed someone to order her so that she could overcome some kind of taboo, some feeling of guilt?
I asked Caroline, "Do you really want this?"
"Yes I do, very much."
"Do you want to be my slave and do whatever I tell you to do?"
"Yes I do," she answered, surprisingly lively. She seemed to have become animated by the thought.
"Okay, this is how we'll do it: I'll give you a slave name - Isaura. When I call you Isaura, you have to do what I tell you, when I call you Caroline, you're a free human being."
I wanted to try it out immediately, so I said, "Isaura, put your hand inside your panties and stroke your pussy."
She did exactly as I had told her and sat there with one hand inside her panties, stroking her pussy.
After a while I said, "Isaura, stand up and pull down your panties so I can see if you're already wet."
Again, she followed my orders to the T. I couldn't believe that I was finally going to see that closely-guarded secret between her legs. I knelt on the floor in front of her to have a good look. Her pussy lips were slightly puffed up and I could see some moisture between them. I concluded that not all hope was lost. As my next step I wanted to give my slave some public exposure and ordered her to put her panties back on. Then I pulled her behind me to the dance floor.
Our arrival, two beautiful young ladies, scantily dressed in matching underwear, caused quite a stir. We were even noticed by the band's female singer who announced that the next song was dedicated to the 'black and white couple'.
The applause which followed this announcement grew even stronger when she added that the next number would be 'Je t'aime'. This old Jane Birkin song was still pulling in the crowds and the dance floor filled rapidly with dancers wanting to do the song justice by demonstrating their affection to their partners.
I had seen the band perform the song before and knew that the singer used to emphasise the words by caressing her breasts and eventually rubbing her crotch through her dress, a gesture which would have looked vulgar in most women but she performed it with so much style that it was extremely arousing to watch her.
As we danced, I pressed Caroline's body close to mine. She seemed a lot more relaxed now than during our first dance but I still had to tell her exactly what I wanted her to do. As soon as the singer started to caress herself I turned Caroline around so she was facing the stage and held her from behind, caressing her nipples through the thin material of her bra. I also told her to put her hand into her panties and to masturbate.
I could feel how she slowly moved her hand up and down her slit as I squeezed and rubbed both her nipples and whispered encouragement into her ear. Her movements became more frantic and as the song reached its end her body shuddered and she climaxed with a moan that sounded like the last yelp of a drowning man. Her legs became weak and I had to support her weight to avoid her dropping to the floor.
People near us had noticed what had happened and looked at her in amazement and admiration. I decided that this had been enough excitement for the moment and guided her back to our box.
When we arrived at our room I could hear the rhythmic breathing and the movement of two bodies in close contact, noises which told me that Arlette and Claude were having another go at growing their relationship. I made Caroline sit down on the bed and offered her some more Champagne. She refused at first, saying that she didn't want to drink any more, but I insisted that we had to celebrate her orgasm. When she finally agreed, she only took a little sip.
The powerful orgasm she had experienced seemed to have a detrimental effect on her mood. I was in danger of losing control, letting her retreat into her shell again. I kissed her face, ran my fingers through her hair and tried to cheer her up by telling her how wonderful she had been, and how everybody had enjoyed watching her come to such a beautiful climax.
My declarations were interrupted by an outburst next door.
"For Christ's sake, Claude, you're such a bloody egoist. Can't you think of me for a moment. I want to come too, you know. Otherwise there isn't anything in it for me."
There was a humble mumble from Claude, then a long pause, and finally he said something else to Arlette, not loud enough for me to understand.
She reacted angrily, "You cannot be serious! No way am I going to take your filthy little prick into my mouth!"
"Oh boy," I thought to myself, "there speaks a liberated woman."
I had an idea. I told Caroline to rest a little, I would be back in a minute. Then I knocked on the dividing wall saying, "It's me, Jacqueline, can I come in for a moment?"
The two were lying on the bed, obviously sulking, as far apart from each other as possible. They had pulled up the sheet to cover themselves when I announced that I was coming in. Claude used the opportunity to have a good look at my semi-nude body.
This was the first time he actually saw me in my underwear and he said, "In the flesh you look even more appetizing than on that poster."
This earned him a huff and a black look from Arlette. I told them that I wanted to talk about Caroline with them and explained that I had discovered that inside Caroline there was buried a slave personality who would do anything she was ordered to do.
The two didn't quite know what to make of my story, so I said, "If you don't believe me, come and see for yourselves. And there's no need to get dressed."
Caroline had dozed off and needed to be woken up. This was also the first chance for Claude to see his colleague from work down to some flimsy underwear. He must have felt like some kind of Don Juan, being surrounded by three beautiful women in various stages of undress, even though his performance didn't seem to live up to this role.
I addressed Caroline as Isaura and told her to kneel on the floor. The short rest seemed to have done her good because she followed my order immediately and without hesitation. I motioned Claude to stand in front of her and then told Caroline to suck his cock until it was hard again, but to be careful not to let him go over the edge.
She took his flaccid member into her hand and licked its tip. When it started to harden she took his cock into her mouth and moved her lips up and down his hardening shaft. Claude probably couldn't believe this was happening. Ms Touch-me-not from the office was kneeling in front of him, giving him a blowjob, something his girlfriend had just refused to do.
Arlette herself was watching the scene with a mixture of amazement and disgust. Claude's excitement mounted rapidly. When he started to moan, I told Caroline to stop. He looked a little disappointed as he stood there, his throbbing penis glistening with Caroline's saliva.
Next, I got Arlette to lie on the bed with her legs spread and ordered Caroline to eat Arlette's pussy. Again, Caroline followed my orders without hesitation, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. In fact, it seemed that Arlette was more uptight about the whole thing than Caroline.
But she relaxed as soon as she felt Caroline's tongue sliding up and down her pussy lips, circling her clitoris and finding its way into her love hole. It was obvious that this wasn't the first time Caroline had performed cunnilingus - which cast serious doubts on my double virgin theory - and it seemed probable that Arlette's pussy had never before been visited by such an expert tongue - or by any tongue, for that matter.
Soon Arlette was writhing on the bed, emitting little moans of pleasure. Caroline had to hold on to her victim's thighs, pressing them down onto the bed and forcing them a little further apart, to be able to continue. Arlette's moans grew louder. Unable to move the lower part of her body she moved her head from one side to the other, her hands clasping the bed sheets. Then she erupted in an almighty orgasm.
For a few moments there was silence in the room, except for the heavy breathing of the two women on the bed. Claude was obviously shaken. Watching what he had just witnessed probably ranked amongst his wildest fantasies. But hopefully he also realized how much pleasure his girlfriend was able to experience if she received the right treatment. His penis stood out from between his legs like a soldier ready to march.
I helped Arlette get up from the bed and walked the two to their side of the room, suggesting they give it another try.
I thought the time had finally come for me to have some fun with Caroline, but when I turned around I found her slumped on the floor, her upper body resting on the bed, her face buried in her arms, crying. I lifted her up, asking what was wrong.
She said, "The floor of the cathedral is hard and cold." It was that trance-like voice again, a voice which seemed to come from somewhere else and simply passed through her. Something had happened in a cathedral somewhere that still gave her nightmares.
"What happened in the cathedral? Please tell me."
I tried to order her as her master, persuade her as a friend, but she did not react to my questions. She was trembling, her eyes were wide open.
With a terrified look on her face she whispered, "His weight is pressing me onto the stones."
The stones? Would that be the stones of the cathedral floor? And who was it that was pressing her to the floor? Was this a rape? By a priest? She sure had had her share of problems with figures of authority! First a teacher, then a priest! Had she provoked them? Had they been so enthralled by her beauty that they could not resist her? And then blamed her for it? And why did all this resurface now?
My mind had no problem coming up with lots of questions, but there were no answers. I felt absolutely helpless, not knowing what to do.
Suddenly, Caroline's mood changed again. She looked at herself and said, "My god, I'm almost naked. How did this happen? Where are my clothes?"
This was the shy, almost sex-less Caroline I had met earlier that day. She noticed her clothes on the nearby chair and put on her pullover, skirt and jacket. Then she said, "I'd like to leave, please."
The request was voiced in a tone that did not leave any room for negotiation. I slipped on my dress but removed my underwear - I wanted to feel the cool air on my body - after all, nothing else had touched me that night. I wrote a brief note to Arlette, then I accompanied Caroline to the exit. I put her into a taxi and offered to go with her, but she assured me that she'd be okay on her own.
I decided to walk. It would take me about an hour to get home but I wanted to be alone and I expected that the fresh air would help me get some order into the jumble of thoughts which were floating through my head.
Paris never sleeps, but this was probably the quietest part of the 24-hour cycle. It was the time when the late-night revellers had gone to bed and the early risers had not yet started their day. Nevertheless, there were some people out and about, walking or driving along the deserted streets.
A few times my silhouette (or maybe more than just my silhouette?) was caught in an oncoming car's headlights. Some of these cars turned around for a second look; one or two slowed down and the drivers shouted unambiguous invitations. I ignored them. I needed to think.
The temperature had dropped considerably from the pleasant early autumn warmth we had enjoyed during the day. I felt cold, particularly when I crossed the side streets which lead down to the Seine. I shivered and braced myself as the wind blew the cold air from the river right through my thin dress. I could feel my nipples harden from the cold.
I was furious with myself. I had chosen to ignore Caroline's problems although the indications had been clear from the beginning. I had manipulated her into doing what I wanted her to do. She had trusted me and I had betrayed that trust. My obsession with sex had made me think that everybody else wanted to spend their lives fucking and sucking.
But, as I always do on these occasions, I also looked for arguments in my defence - in the interest of a fair trial, so to speak. After all, I hadn't forced her to come with us to Le Chambre Séparée which was well known as a place for sexual adventure.
Intervention by the prosecution: But she didn't exactly come dressed for sexual adventure, did she? Was she one of the handful of people in Paris who didn't know what Le Chambre Séparée was about? Had Claude not told her we were going to Le Chambre Séparée?
But - my defence continued - Caroline had displayed great skill and experience in performing both fellatio and cunnilingus. She had done these things before, and probably others. I hadn't corrupted a pure person, just stimulated her into doing things she already knew how to do. And wasn't sex one of the most wonderful things people could do, no matter what form it took?
My mind wandered off momentarily to the things Caroline had said in her trance-like state. I wondered what it might feel like to be thrown on the hard stone floor of a cathedral, half-naked, or naked perhaps, and then feel the weight of your castigator on top of you. The scene I pictured wasn't that of a rape but of an uncontrolled outburst of lust provoked, perhaps, by a lack of humility, by too few clothes, by an excessive display of female charms. I felt aroused by the thought of being taken roughly on a stone floor. Maybe not in a cathedral, but there should be plenty of abandoned churches, maybe a disused monastery, even the ruins of a castle would do. We could find such a place and Ramon could play the role of the priest or monk.
When I became aware of my thoughts I scolded myself for having turned Caroline's suffering into a sexual fantasy.
I decided to postpone the question whether I was guilty or not and to concentrate on how I could help Caroline. Independent of whether I had done her any wrong, I felt an enormous compassion for that woman with the doe-eyes and the never-ending legs. I wanted to approach her, as a friend, as a fellow female, and offer my help. I would not try any do-it-yourself therapy but would steer her in the direction of a professional who might be able to help her.
"Good morning, beautiful lady. Would you be kind enough to assist a less fortunate fellow citizen?"
I had been deep in thought and the voice which seemed to come from nowhere made me jump. It took me a while to realise that it had come from a narrow gap between two buildings. After my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see a man sitting on the ground near the entrance to the gap, his back leaning against the wall. He seemed to have made this narrow space his home. There was an old mattress on the ground, his clothes were hanging on wire coat-hangers which had somehow been fixed to one wall. He even had a little gas stove which was giving off a limited amount of heat.
"Please forgive me if I have startled you. Sometimes I forget that people can't see me when I'm sitting in the shadow of my front porch. Would you be kind enough to give me a cigarette?"
His unshaven face and his huddled posture made it difficult to guess how old he might be. He spoke clearly; his voice sounded like that of an actor or a television announcer, although living under the open skies, drinking cheap booze and smoking had turned it slightly hoarse. The antiquated politeness in his speech was his way of maintaining his dignity: he wasn't really a beggar, he was someone left over from a previous century, unable to cope with the demands of modern life.
"I don't have any cigarettes," I said. "I'll give you some money, but first I want you to do something for me."
"Anything you desire, oh noble mistress." He said in his theatrical fashion. It made me think how the meaning of the word 'mistress' had changed over the centuries.
"I want you to eat my pussy," I heard myself say, surprised how matter-of-factly I had voiced my request.
"What? Here? Now?"
He was so taken aback that his usual flowery speech was reduced to monosyllabic questions. There were probably many other questions going through his mind. Was I serious about this? Was this a joke? A setup? Why would a pretty young girl like me offer her pussy to a scruffy beggar like him? And offer to pay for it? Weren't there hundreds of willing young men out there who would give their eye-teeth for a chance of getting their mouths on this juicy morsel of flesh?
All these questions remained unasked and unanswered as I stepped into the gap and positioned myself facing the man. I lifted the hem of my dress above my hips and spread my legs, leaning against the wall behind me for support.
The street lighting shone some way into the gap. It reached the place where I was standing and gave the man and anybody else who happened to pass by a good view of my pussy. I could feel my excitement mount, making its way to my exposed sex. Suddenly, I felt an enormous tenderness for the man in front of me. "S'il vous plait," I said.
I wanted him to be rough, I wanted relief for the frustration which had built up inside me. The world, including myself, had turned out to be less perfect than I had wished and I wanted to purge all the negative feelings from my system by letting a complete stranger bring me to an earth-shattering orgasm - and I wanted it now!
He hesitated for a moment, then he got onto his knees and moved towards me. He stopped when his face was less then a couple of inches from my sex and took his time contemplating the sight.
This delay only served to heighten the tension that was building up inside me. It became almost unbearable. I held my breath waiting for the first contact. Suddenly, he lunged forward and took my whole crotch into his wide open mouth, as if he was literally going to eat me, trying to suck my whole pussy into his mouth.
Next he covered my pubic mound with short little sucking kisses which caused my pussy lips to open and my clitoris to peek its head through the gap. Having found a new target for his attack, he moved his tongue rhythmically up and down my slit until I was shivering with delight.
Unable to remain passive, I pushed down the top of my dress to release my breasts and started to knead them frantically, squeezing and rubbing my hardened nipples. The man's attention shifted again and my clitoris was given the full treatment. He put his lips around the sensitive knob and sucked it into his mouth. At the same time he used his tongue, alternating licks and stabs with rapid flicks which sent shivers up my spine.
After a short while he retreated, then shot forward again and thrust his tongue into my pussy. He grabbed hold of my buttocks with both hands and pulled them apart, forcing me to open my legs wider and pushing my pussy into his face. He continued stabbing his tongue into my love hole, plunging it a little deeper each time. His tongue was twisting and turning inside me, then his fingers found my anus. He forced one of them in the tight little hole, using short circular movements to get deeper inside me.
The double penetration by his finger and his tongue was too much to bear. I came, releasing all my tension in a primal scream which echoed through the deserted streets.
The man, probably thinking that he had completed his task, removed his finger from my rear and started to move away from my pussy, but I wanted more. I pushed his head back into position and begged him to continue. "No, don't stop, I need more, eat me, stab me, make me come one more time," I pleaded hoarsely.
He returned his attention to my now soaking wet pussy and fastened his grip on my buttocks, this time inserting two fingers into my anus. His tongue seemed to work even faster, exploring every crevice of my pussy and sending wave after wave of delight through my body. My excitement had reached a plateau and it didn't take long for my second climax to arrive, this time less noisy but just as satisfying.
I released the man's head and he moved slowly away from my pussy. While I straightened my clothes, I tried to think of something to say, but everything that came to my mind sounded so trite, so meaningless, so out of place that I just said, "Thank you," as I handed him a generous reward - much more than my financial situation allowed - and left.
"It's been my pleasure," he shouted after me, "you know where to find me if I can be of service again!"
In fact I did make a mental note of the place where I had stumbled upon him. "Maybe next time I'll let him take me in the ass," I thought to myself.
When I arrived at my room I took a shower and, having promised myself that I would contact Caroline the next day, I soon fell asleep.
When I woke up the next morning I saw that my room mate had also found her way home. She was still sound asleep. I went about my normal duties during the day and only met Arlette again in the afternoon.
"I just want you to know that Claude and I broke up last night, thanks to your efforts."
The way Arlette said this implied, "And I'm finished with you too."
I wasn't in the mood for an argument, so I just said, "Listen, last night didn't turn out the way I had expected and if that was my fault then I apologize. But as far as your relationship with Claude is concerned you ought to ask yourself if this relationship really had a future, if the two of you really are compatible."
I had planned to ask Claude through Arlette for a telephone number or some other means of getting in touch with Caroline. The fact that the two had broken up and that Arlette was now sulking with me complicated matters. I didn't even know their full names, nor the exact name of the department where they were working. While I was still pondering whether I should ask Arlette how I could contact Claude, the phone rang.
"If that's Claude, I'm not in," Arlette said.
I answered the phone and found to my delight that it was Caroline.
"I'm glad you rang. I was just thinking of you. I think I owe you an apology."
"I can't see why. It's me who owes you an explanation."
I wasn't going to argue with her; I was glad she had got in touch and agreed immediately when she suggested we'd meet for a conversation. Caroline said she'd leave work early the next day and suggested that I come to her place around four so we'd have enough time to talk.