Monday, May 04, 2009

Over time I’ve collected bits of possible posts, mostly erotic, but for various reasons they’ve never made it into the blog. Usually I found something else to write about or was never in the mood to finish them. I’ve decided to complete some of them and post them as an off and on series. They’ll be divorced of context, time and place, and may be from past professional engagements or my sexual wanderings.

When people think of the Paris suburbs, they usually think of fetid housing projects where France warehouses their immigrants. But most are not like that and many are quite wealthy. Typically they have densities that American’s would be unaccustomed but in some ways would be familiar.


Paris is a metropolitan area of about 10M people, but only about 2M live in Paris proper. While the city has a reputation of being crowded, with small houses and apartments, it lacks the density of New York and is more like Boston. And like Boston its architecture is low rise and of a classic vernacular. There are high rise buildings in Paris, but they tend to grouped or on the periphery. When a high rise development is proposed, vocal camps supporting and opposed quickly form. Interestingly the expat community tends to oppose, while natives are often open to the development.

Le Periph, the ring road around Paris, by and large defines the city limits and on a November evening I was headed to Neuilly-sur-Seine and a client’s home. As usual, Ahmed was my driver, so it was his job to deal with evening traffic. As we drove I looked out upon the other cars wondering where they were heading and where they came from. Occasionally I could see a driver or passenger look at the sedan and wondered who they thought was behind the blacked out windows.

Ahmed had driven for Marie for years and continued to drive for me when I became independent. Over time he built up a thriving hired car business with several employees and a number of cars. One thing we girls noticed is that only Ahmed or his brother-in-law would drive us, never his employees. We assumed he was protecting their virtue or more likely hiding our account. On the visor, Ahmed had a picture of his wife and children, of whom he was very proud. It didn’t take much prodding to get him to talk about them. On the seat next to him was his Koran, which he would read while he waited for us.

The client I’d seen a few times before and I was considering him a regular. Normally we would meet at a hotel downtown or near the airport usually for the evening, dinner or maybe a drink and then private time. A few days after last seeing him he called to schedule another meeting and asked if I met with couples. “Are you interested in meeting with two girls?” I asked, then it would have been a first for me but I had no objection. “No,” he responded, “I’d like you to meet with my wife and me.”

I knew he was married, but this request surprised me. We talked about it for a few minutes and I determined that this wouldn’t be a surprise for her that she was interested in a threesome and that she knew that I would be a prostitute, but she didn’t know of my background with him. He offered to let me think about it and I accepted.

When I started, my plan was not to see women clients, my reasoning being that my own preference was primarily women and seeing one professionally would ‘taint’ that. But then I met a man who I fell in love with, but continued to work as a companion, keeping the worlds separate wasn’t the problem I expected.

The entry to the house was set in a shared courtyard, behind a high wall. Ahmed told me to call when I was ready to leave as he would wait in a lot a few blocks away. It would be more discreet. The courtyard gate was open and I let myself in and walked up the brick sidewalk to the entry.

My client let me in; he seemed nervous, much like he did on our first meeting. I like it when the man is nervous, his guard is lowered. Showing me into the library he said that this is where we would meet and asked if I minded. I looked about the room, a large couch and a couple of overstuffed chairs and a desk; pictures of children and a dog, none of whom were in evidence. It would be fine I told him. I noticed a video camera atop table and asked about it. “Not for you,” he said, “but maybe you could…of my wife and me?” I was non-committal. As he took my coat he pointed out that there was a toilet off the room and then he excused himself and said he’d get his wife.

When they returned I found that she was an attractive blond, about forty, his age. We greeted and she seemed very nervous. He asked if we wanted drinks, she did, a martini, I had the same. While he was tending bar, we retired to the couch. “Do you want to continue?” I asked, wanting to make sure that she really was signed on and I wanted her to relax. She assured me she was and I put my hand on her knee and told her that it would be fun.

He placed our drinks on the coffee table and took one of the stuffed chairs. We’ll start, he’ll watch, I thought. We talked for a few minutes and then I leaned toward her, she offered me her lips and I took them. Generally I prefer the kisses of women to men and she was very kissable and it didn’t take me long to determine that she was no stranger to being with a woman. Articles of clothing began coming off and soon we were naked or nearly so if stockings count. We kissed prodded and licked, I kept an eye on him and he was pretty entranced and after a few minutes pulled his penis out and stroked it lightly.

I induced an orgasm from her, a moaning, gasping and shuddering O. Alas being the hired help an O for me is a sometime. Off and on I’d kept an eye on the husband who was enjoying the show. I winked at her, motioned toward him and then slipped of the couch and crawled across the floor, the wife right behind me. I took his penis and held for her, she shook her head and wanted me to go first. She began licking his balls and passed him to her, sharing a kiss to punctuate the transfer. We went on from there, each doing him orally and vaginally and then each other again.

Not in a frantic, exhausting sequence of a porno, but in a slow, relaxed pace interspersed with rest periods where we talked and (they) drank getting a bit tipsy. Shortly after mid-night we were done. She gathered her clothes and left the room. I took mine to bathroom to dress. While there, I texted Ahmed that I was ready. The husband now dressed waited for me in the library. He was happy and said his wife had a great time, which I knew. He retrieved my coat and in the pocket I found a tip.

By the time I reached the gate, Ahmed was pulling up and I opened the door and got in before he could get his seat belt off. I asked him to take me home and as we pulled on to the Perph, I took a couple of notes and slipped them under the lid of the ashtray where, he’d find them.

Kim

3 Comments:

Anonymous VJ said...

And somewhere in the suburbs is an old rusty Peugeot with 100's of Frac notes still stuffed into a never emptied ashtray... (Let's hope not!) Cheers & Good Luck, 'VJ'

6:31 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

KiM, Now I know you can read my mind............thanks
bluebeing

7:12 PM  
Blogger Kim said...

A Mercedes VJ, and it is probably still in perfect condition.

BB: glad to oblige.

K

10:31 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home