Looking Back Ch. 12

"Okay, enough history. Tell me what you boys do in your club?"

"Oh, it isn't just men. We have women members too. I suspect you would qualify if you wanted to join. But to your question—what do we do there? Well first and foremost it serves as a very convenient and confidential place for a member to use for an assignation. When we want to spend a very private afternoon or evening with someone, it is so much better than one of the big hotels. Also a member may use it for a private party with his or her friends. The staff is wonderfully discreet about who attends such gatherings and what they do while they are there. Then, of course, there are our twice-a-year members' dinners like the one we will attend tonight."

"And what goes on at these dinners?"

"Everything and anything. I think you will love it. You will find it a lot like the parties your aunt used to throw in her home in San Francisco."

"You mean an orgy," I said.

"Oui."

I was silent for a minute, as though I was deciding whether to be outraged by his disclosure, and then, as I raked my nails up the inside of his thigh again, I said, "I love it."

"Good. Now we must shop for a suitable dress for you."

"And what is suitable for a Parisian orgy?" I asked.

"Oh something that makes you look beautiful, sexy, and glamorous, fully dressed, but still . . . indecent. Covered, but still . . . accessible."

"Yum. Where shall we go?"

"I know just the shop. I have been buying women's clothes there for years."

"Hmmm, . . . I'll bet you have, and for a lot of different women too."

He laughed. "Eh . . . oui, perhaps a few . . . or perhaps more than a few." He almost sounded embarrassed.

I laughed. "Don't apologize. I knew what you were when I asked you to marry me."

"And I knew what you were when I said yes."

And so we shopped. I tried on dozens of dresses, and shoes, and hose, and undergarments (which we finally dispensed with entirely in deference to the drape of the dress we selected). And when we were done I had a very suitable dress, as Yves had defined it. I also had my hair done by a very chic hairdresser, my nails done, and even my make-up done. I couldn't believe it was me when I looked in the mirror at the end of the day.

The dress was a medium blue with a top that consisted of two broad pieces of cloth fastened behind my neck and draped loosely over my breasts, crossing just above my navel. The top joined the lower part of the dress low on my hips providing a deeply plunging neckline and leaving my back completely bare down to my hips. I wore a string of pearls, simple gold studs in my ears, and strapped sandals with three-and-a-half-inch heels. The lower part of the dress fit snugly around my hips, displaying them nicely I thought. Below the hips it flared slightly and fell to floor length. There was a slit up the front that came to the upper part of my thighs. The cut of the dress was such that when I was standing the slit was always slightly open, exposing much of my legs to well above the knee. As Yves had specified, I was fully dressed but accessible and covered but indecent, especially given that I had nothing on beneath the dress.

All thoughts of my difficult week in San Francisco had vanished. I felt pampered and entertained, and, when we slid into the limo to go to dinner, indecent. It was delicious, and I couldn't wait to meet the other members of Amis de l'érotisme.

As we drove to Le Club, Yves opened a box lying on the seat of the limo between us. In it was a glamorous Venetian mask with colored feather trim and gold finish for me and a simple black eye mask for him. I forgot to mention he said, "This is a masked ball tonight, or at least it will start out that way."

I tried on the mask and looked in the mirror on the back of the front seat. It was stunning. "Yes," I said. "Very decadent."

All told there were about fifteen couples at Le Club that evening. Initially we assembled in a large open room with the furniture pulled back against the walls to permit a typical cocktail mingle. Excellent champagne and hors d'oeuvres were being served by male waiters in tails. The men were all dressed in conservative black tuxedos with the same simple black mask that Yves had retrieved from the box for himself. It was hard to estimate their ages, but I guessed they covered a wide range from early twenty (perhaps the guests of a woman member?) to well over sixty. The women were all wearing dresses that met Yves' criteria—sexy and glamorous, fully dressed, but indecent, covered, but accessible—and were masked in a similarly decadent style to my own. Some were young and beautiful, and when on the arm of a significantly older gentleman, apparently a trophy wife or simply a suitable date for a decadent evening, but a surprising number were of an age that appeared to match their partner. There were even a few pairs of same sex partners, male pairs and female pairs.

"How will I know which are the members?" I whispered to Yves as we walked in.

"You won't unless they choose to tell you. You can speculate, but you won't know for sure."

"And you won't tell me?"

"No. That's one of the rules."

"Are there other rules?"

"Beyond upmost secrecy?"

"Yes."

He thought for a moment and said, "Not really," followed by another pause. "Well, no means no, although people who are members or spouses rarely say no to much of anything. And pay your dues on time, I guess, although I remember there was one fellow who had fallen on hard times who we carried for years because he was just so much fun to have around. I think it was the wives that insisted we carry him."

"Is he here tonight?"

"No he passed away a few years ago. Rumor had it he died of a heart attack while having sex with three members' wives during a late afternoon assignation here in the club."

"Really," I said drawing the word out as though I was scandalized. "I'm liking this club more all the time. Even being the spouse of a member appears to have fringe benefits."

"That's why the spouses allow it. Most of them enjoy it as much as the members do."

As a waiter handed us a champagne, Yves said, "Enough talk, there are a lot of people here who want to meet you."

"How will that work with all your secrecy?"

"Well, they all know who I am, and therefore who you are . . . "

"But the introductions?" I interrupted.

"They will likely choose to introduce themselves. That satisfies the rules. Of course you can't tell anyone else who you met here."

"Oh God. This is complicated. When do we get to the fucking part?"

"In time dear, in time. Just be patient."

We spent the next hour engaged in typical idle cocktail party chit-chat. Yves was right. Everyone did want to meet me, and by and large they did introduce themselves. Since I wasn't really plugged into Paris society, their names meant little to me, but Yves assured me later that they were important people. The men were uniformly charming and a bit lecherous in the way they undressed me with their eyes. The women were warm and friendly although several of them were also undressing me with their eyes, a compliment I returned in a couple of cases.

Eventually we adjourned to dinner at a large table in a long room. The food was delicious and the wine was even better, a world class Bordeaux and a stunning White Burgundy from one of Yves vineyards in Montrachet. But better than the food and the wine were the photos and drawings on the walls—larger than life erotica.

"Nice decorations," I said to Yves as I stroked the inside of his thigh again, as I had been doing on our ride in from the airport. Yves returned the favor by brushing my split dress aside and placing his warm hand on the inside of my thigh nearly up to my pussy. He massaged it from time to time throughout dinner.

At one point I realized that the woman seated across from me was fixated on my engorged nipples and the tent they were making in my dress. When she realized I had caught her staring, instead of looking away embarrassed, she continued to stare and licked her lips. I reached up with my hand and lifted one of my tits toward her and then quickly pinched the nipple through the cloth of the dress. She winked and then turned to whisper in her partner's ear, presumably telling him about the slut across from her.

I looked down the table and saw that another woman had pushed the top of her dress down so that a bit more than half of each of her areolas and all of each nipple were now visible above the top of her dress. She was staring at someone across the table from her, but since he or she was on my side, I couldn't tell what they were doing. Then she reached up with one hand and delicately stroked her hardened nipple with a long fingernail. She smiled lasciviously, and I wondered what was going on across the table from her. Something equally indecent, I assumed.

I looked towards the couple seated on my immediate right and saw that she had her hand under the gentleman's napkin and was obviously stroking an erection beneath the napkin. When I looked up at her she smiled, and I silently mouthed, "Let me see." She looked down with her eyes, which I took as a direction to do the same and saw that she had pulled the napkin aside allowing me to see his stiff cock and her stroking. I looked up at her and smiled my approval.

As I looked around the table I could see that most people had finished eating or at least quit and had their hands under the table, presumably engaged in some form of illicit activity. When I looked back at Yves, I discovered that he was using one hand to stroke the cock of the man on his left. Just as I saw that, I felt the hand of the man on my right begin to stroke the inside of my right thigh while Yves continued to stroke my left. They seemed to have their timing down because each of them would lightly stroke my pussy at the top of their stroke of my thigh without bumping into each other.

The woman across from me was still staring at my tits, so to demonstrate my appreciation of her interest I pulled one of the clothe straps of my dress aside so that most of my breast and certainly all of my nipple was readily visible to her and everyone else on that side of the table. I held it that way long enough so it was much more than a quick flash. Exposing myself to her while the men on either side of me molested my sex was causing the most delicious erotic fog in my brain.

After more than a few minutes of this subtle or not so subtle eroticism, the head of the table announced that the party would be moving back to the main room where there would be entertainment. What the hell could be more entertaining than what was going on at this table, I wondered? He also pointed out trays of brownies by the door leading out of the room, encouraging us to try one. I soon discovered to my delight that they were laced with very potent marijuana.

We all stood and filed out after having more or less buttoned up to something approaching decency, although I could see that most of the men were sporting very large tents in their trousers and I was hardly the only woman whose erect nipples were showing through her dress. The evening was off to a good start. Nearly everyone took a brownie or two as they filed out, not that anyone seemed to need to have anything to further loosen their inhibitions.

There were a number of couches and chairs arranged around the outside of the room, and additional chairs had been brought in so there was enough seating for everyone. The seating was all arranged so that it faced the one side of the large room that was free of seating. There was a low, broad, padded bench on that side but nothing else. Lighting on the bench and the area immediately around it was considerably brighter than that in the rest of the room. Everyone seemed to understand that it was time to take a seat. The waiters brought around one more round of champagne on trays and then the lights were dimmed. Not really darkened. You could easily see everyone in the room, but the light remained noticeably brighter on the side of the room where the bench was located.

Then the entertainment: Two very attractive women entered walking hand in hand into the room. They were both tall and wore long dresses that appeared to be composed purely of broad strips of cloth that flowed from a ring at their neck to just short of their feet. Each woman's dress was tied loosely at the waist by a sash, but as they walked the strips of cloth moved freely exposing virtually all of their bodies, both above and below the waist. It was readily apparent that they were naked beneath the dresses, but for tall-heeled strapped sandals. They both had exquisite figures—long shapely legs, well-shaped hips and beautiful tits, not really big, but so delightfully shaped. One was tall and blonde with her long hair done up in a knot and her face covered with a Venetian mask, even more exotic than the one I wore. The other was just as tall, but had dark red hair, which fell in a wild cascade of curls onto her shoulders and back. Like the blonde, she wore an exotic mask.

They sat side by side on the bench facing us, their hips lightly touching and their legs crossed with the strips of cloth falling away to expose their long sexy legs. Each sat quietly trying to look at each other, but discreetly enough so that her interest would not be noticed by the other. It was obvious to the audience that the attempts at discretion were an utter failure. Each girl was very aware of the other's interest and inflamed by it.

After engaging in this farce long enough to raise anticipation in the audience, the blonde reached across and put her hand on the redhead's knee. She looked sharply at the blonde and then away, as if uncertain how to respond. She didn't push the hand away or move away on the bench. After several moments of uncertainty, the redhead turned back towards the blonde, looking at her face for several long moments. The blonde pretended to ignore her, although it was obvious to all of us she was very aware of the redhead's stare. Then the redhead turned her attention to the blonde's body, staring lustfully at it with no pretense of discretion. Finally she leaned forward and kissed the blonde, softly and slowly, but she held it for what seemed like a minute or more. The blonde's hand remained on the redhead's knee throughout this seduction.

When the blonde didn't object and obviously returned the kiss, the redhead, continuing the role of the aggressor, pushed a strip of cloth aside covering one of the blonde's beautiful breasts and began to fondle it. The girls were silent, but you could hear a sensual gasp from the audience.

Now the blonde begin to slide the hand she had placed on her partner's knee slowly up the inside of her thigh. The redhead uncrossed her legs and spread them apart in an invitation to her partner. Her cleanly shaved pussy was readily apparent to the audience. I could see tents rising in men's trousers throughout the room, including Yves'.

The kiss was abandoned as each of the girls began to freely fondle the other's body. Both had released their belts and the strips of cloth that made up the dress of each were easily pushed aside, so that the girls were essentially naked and exposed to the audience. I reached over and began to fondle Yves cock, which he had pulled free of his now open trousers. As I looked around the room I could see other people taking similar liberties with those sitting next to them.

Now the girls had completely shed their clothing, including their masks. The redhead, continuing to play the aggressor, had dropped to her knees, her lovely ass pointed at the audience her legs spread just enough to insure a full exposure of her sex. Her face was firmly in the blonde's pussy. The blonde was leaning back on her hands, her eyes closed and her face twisted in ecstasy.

It was then that I felt a warm hand slide under the side of my dress and firmly grasp my breast. The hand was large and the fingers rough, as though used in manual labor, but the touch was sensitive and erotic. The hand belonged to a gentleman sitting on the other side of me from Yves. I looked over my shoulder to see who was assaulting me. He was not handsome, a big man with a large head and rough features covered with an almost bushy mane of thick dark hair and a full unkempt beard. No, not classically handsome, but still so intensely masculine as to bring almost any woman's attention to focus fully on him. I looked over my shoulder and my glance became a long stare. After a moment I indicated my approval of his conduct by licking my lips as lewdly as I could. Then I turned my attention back to the evening's entertainment, but I was seriously enjoying what the giant was doing with his rough hands. God, he had a perfect touch.

The blonde had climaxed loudly while I was staring at the man to my left. Perhaps it was her cries that pulled me away from the attraction of his rough-hewn face. Now the two women had exchanged places. The blonde had just begun to eat the redhead when the third member of the evening's entertainment strode into the room. He was a tall black man, naked from the waist up. His skin was a shining black, about as dark as a man could get, his shoulders broad and heavily muscled, with no apparent fat. He was wearing riding boots and a tight pair of trousers that disclosed a substantial package between his legs. God, he must be huge I thought.

A substantial flow of pre-cum had emerged from Yves cock, and he gasped as I spread it around the head of his prick. I was leaning forward ministering to Yves cock with both hands, and that allowed the gentleman beside me to reach around my back and assault my other breast. Now he was massaging both of my tits and occasionally tweaking each of my nipples. Fuck, it felt so good. How had a man with hands that large and rough developed such a sensitive touch? I could feel my pussy beginning to weep.

The blonde leaned forward and pulled the black man to the side. Her legs were still spread and the redhead, ignoring the new arrival continued to lap at the blonde's pussy. The blonde smoothly opened his trousers and extracted a huge, black, half-erect cock. It looked like a dark snake. There was an audible gasp from the audience. The guy was just fucking huge, but the girl seemed to easily suck his member into her mouth. As we watched the obscene entertainment, I reached back behind my neck and released the catch on my dress so that the top half fell away completely leaving me naked from the waist up. As I looked around the audience I saw that many other members were in various states of undress, including some who were now naked.

After a minute or two of having his cock sucked, the black man stepped back. He sat on the couch, his huge cock bobbing obscenely before him and smoothly extracted himself from his boots and his pants, so he was as naked as the girls. He sat stroking his prick, still shining from the blonde's cock-sucking, while he watched the redhead slowly driving the blonde wild with her tongue.

A woman who had been sitting in a chair next to Yves, watching my hand job with immense interest, now stood and released her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She dropped to her knees before Yves and looked up at me, whispering "Puis-je." She wanted to suck Yves cock, and I wanted to watch. I responded, "Oui." I leaned back against the couch and pulled the gentleman's head down in front of my chest so he could suck on my tits. Then, as I delighted in his tongue's abuse of my nipples, I shared my attention between the show on the padded bench and the woman sucking my husband's dick. Oh, I was so glad I had come to Paris!