Chinese ballet dancer dominated by a man

Pervert tales

Recovering from my accident took a long time. It was
frustrating because I’ve always made a point of keeping
fit and here I was barely able to move. I spent many
hours with the physiotherapist. She seemed to take an
almost sadistic pleasure in making me find the re-use of
my body. But eventually my sessions with her were over.
She only had some parting advice to give me, namely that
I should enroll in a dance or stretching class to
continue to improve my flexibility. She gave me the name
of a school and wrote a note of introduction to its
head. The school was very close to my office. Maybe, I
would be able to attend a class on my way home from
work. I decided I stop by the school the next day.

But maybe I should introduce myself first. I’m a 28-
year-old American man. At the time of my accident I was
living by myself in Paris where I worked for an
international bank. I had been sent to Paris soon after
joining the bank a couple of years ago. I was very
ambitious and worked long hours but still managed to
learn some French and enjoy the city. I met many
attractive women but so far had avoided any serious
entanglements. Little did I know how soon that was going
to change when I stopped by the dance school the next
day.

The school was located in a 17th century building. There
was a passageway that led to a central courtyard. Around
the courtyard on three floors were various dance studios
and there was quite a clash of competing music:
Classical, Jazz, African, Funk…. The windows of the
dance studios were steamy with the perspiration of the
dancers so it was hard to make out what was going on,
but as I stood in the middle of the courtyard and looked
up and around I could see fleeting silhouettes of the
dancers as they floated past the windows. In my dark
business suit, standing in the middle of the courtyard,
I felt a little out of place to say the least.

Nevertheless, I made my way to what appeared to be the
school office on the ground floor, opened the door and
entered. An attractive middle-aged woman was behind the
desk talking on the phone. She waved, signaling me to
wait a moment. When she got off the hone, I handed her
the note, which she read. She commented in a low voice
to herself: “a bit unusual perhaps, but why not”. She
surveyed me appraisingly and then said: “I think you’ll
do fine in Ann’s class. It is on the third floor. Take
the stairs on the other side of the courtyard. You’ll
find Ann up there.”

When I reached the third floor, I saw there was just one
door leading off the landing. It was half open, and I
poked my head inside. The room was quite small and,
judging from the hooks and the benches around the walls
was obviously some kind of changing room. There was just
one person in the room, a young Asian woman dressed in
pink tights and a pink leotard.

I immediately felt very ill at ease; on the one hand
knowing I should beat a retreat from my intrusion and on
the other hand feeling completing catatonic in the
presence of this most beautiful young woman. I stammered
incoherently that I was a sorry to disturb her, and felt
myself going red in the face, but she interrupted me and
asked me if I was looking for something. When I told her
I was looking for Ann, she said: “I’m Ann. Can I help
you?”

My embarrassment increased but I managed to say that I
was to be enrolled in her class and explained the
circumstances of my accident.

“Well” she said “I don’t have any other men in my class
but you are welcome to try it out. Do you have your
outfit with you?”

I explained that I had just stopped by on my way home
from work and anyway I had no idea what I should wear.

“My class begins in 15 minutes, if you want to join it I
can lend you some things.” She then pulled some things
out of a bag which was next to her on one of the benches
and handed me first what looked like some black tights
and a long black cotton outfit. “Put the tights on
underneath and the unitard on top.”

I was torn between embarrassment and curiosity. When the
physiotherapist had told me to enroll in a dance class,
little did I imagine that I would have to wear tights!

My next source of embarrassment was that there was
clearly only one changing room and Ann was busy working
on some notes and preparing some music tapes and didn’t
seem like she was going to leave anytime soon. “Do I
change here?” I asked.

“Yes, go right ahead. Don’t mind me.”

I took off my shoes and socks, my suit and, in the
interests of modesty left my shirt on as I struggled to
pull on the tights. At this point Ann looked up and
said: “you really need to take off your underwear,
otherwise it will show and not look good.”

Blushing again, I removed my underwear and sitting on
the bench put on the tights. I soon realized that they
instead of proper feet they had a kind of stirrup under
the foot. To get the tights on properly I had to stand
up and pull them up around my waist. There was something
about they way they felt, gripping me in their tight
embrace that would have felt incredibly arousing if it
were not for my embarrassment in front of Ann.

Quickly I pulled on the unitard, first the legs, then
after taking off my shirt, pulling the top over my
shoulders. The top was cut like a tank top, and glancing
at myself in a mirror, I realized that it suited me very
well. My strong shoulders and arms stood out nicely and
the black length of the unitard accentuated my narrow
stomach and well proportioned legs.

There was of course a certain bulge between my legs but
it was kept well contained by the combination of the
tights and unitard. I regained some of my poise and
confidence. And only just in time because some of the
other students started coming into the changing room.

If any of the women and teenage girls were surprised to
see a man in the changing room, they didn’t show it.
They seemed to be either coming from school or from work
and I soon realized that most of them already had their
tights on under their jeans or skirts. Some even were
already wearing leotards too. But some quite casually
took off their tops and bras and standing momentarily
only in their tights before pulling on leotards or
unitards, seemed quite nonchalant about their nakedness.

Of course this was France and if women seemed
comfortable being topless on the beaches, why not in the
changing room of a dance studio? Ann led us into the
dance studio, which was just beyond the changing room.
Mirrors were on three walls and windows along the
fourth. Wooden bars ran along all four walls. Ann
directed us to take positions along the walls and as she
did so welcomed to the class: “We are pleased to have a
new student with us today. He is recovering from an
accident and is taking our class to improve his
flexibility and regain his mobility.” And turning to me
she said: “don’t worry if you can’t follow all the
movements”.

Slowly Ann warmed the class up doing exercises at the
bare. I was soon struggling, especially when with one
foot up on the bar we had to stretch forward and reach
beyond our toes. Ann helped me with my position and
gently pushed me forward with one hand on my back and
one steadying my leg. I loved the feeling of her hands
on my leg, the gentle pressure on my back, and the sweet
smell of her breath as she whispered words of
encouragement in my ear.

As the class progressed my mind wondered and I began
daydreaming. As I watched Ann going from student to
student I noticed how gracefully she moved and how
perfectly shaped her body was. Her body was firm without
being too thin and her leotard showed off the perfection
of her breasts and rear. Her legs were long and I loved
the way the seam of her tights disappeared under her
leotard.

I fantasized tracing that seam with my fingers. Her hair
was jet black and long and her intelligent eyes were
shaped like almonds. She had high check-bones. But her
most attractive feature of all was a beautiful smile
that was both serene and warm. Under any other
circumstances I’m sure that I would be having a raging
erection, especially as my tights felt so wonderful, but
somehow I was too much in awe of Ann’s beauty to feel
mere animal lust. When Ann dismissed the class at the
end of the hour she asked me to stay behind.

In answer to her question, I told her that I wanted to
continue her classes. She seemed happy with my answer
and told me I should keep the tights and unitard for the
next day. I could return them after I’d had a chance to
buy some of my own. She also advised to do as the other
students: I could take the unitard off but put my suit
on over the tights.

That would help keep my muscles warm on my way home and
keep me from getting stiff. It felt really strange to be
putting on a conservative business suit over the tights.
I changed in the same room as everybody else, including
Ann. She followed her own advice. She put on a pair of
jeans over her pink tights. And a very sexy turtleneck
sweater over her leotard. As I looked at her, I felt a
strong, an overwhelming desire. When I got home, I took
off all my clothes except the back tights and lying on
my bed stroked myself as I fantasized about Ann.

*** Chapter 2

I didn’t realize that I was attracted to the good-
looking American man until a few days later after he
joined my class. It was the Thursday evening class and
he didn’t show up. It was only then that I admitted to
myself how much I had been looking forward to seeing
him. But to understand my feelings you first need to
know something about me.

I was born in Paris 21 years ago of Chinese parents who
had moved to France from Vietnam before I was born. We
lived in the area around the Place d’Italie that is home
to many of Paris’ Southeast Asian residents. My parents
put a great emphasis on education. I worked hard at
school and was admitted to one of the top Lycees when I
turned 12. At the Lycee, I also did well and was one of
the top students but my circle of friends was limited.

I was too studious and my parents, being very
conservative, did not allow me to participate in the
activities which would have made me a more popular girl,
like smoking, hanging out at cafes and sneaking into
discos. My only extra-curricular activity was ballet. I
took lessons every day after school and on Saturday too.
I was naturally graceful and I had an attractive figure
with long legs and well formed feet.

I loved ballet because while dancing I could be whatever
I imagined my self to be. My favorite fantasy was that I
lived in a far-off time and was the beautiful princess
who saved the kingdom by seducing the barbarian invaders
by the beauty of my dance….

Even if not as popular as I would like to be, I was
happy at the Lycee. Happy that is until I turned 16 and
fell in love with one of the boys in the senior class.
Rene was a couple of years older than me and was the
leader of a group of boys who were the despair of their
teachers and no doubt of their parents. They were the
worst of students and had the worst reputations. But
their parents were well connected and the school
couldn’t very well throw them out.

Rene always wore tight jeans and a leather jacket. He
slicked his dark hair back and made a terrific noise as
he roared his motorbike through the narrow streets of
Paris. He exuded a strong sexuality, which was
attractive to the girls at the Lycee, and more than one
were reputed to have lost their virginity in bed with
him. He was exactly the type of boy that my parents
hated. He was the boy that I fell for.

For a long time, I loved Rene from a distance. I dreamt
of him and ached for him day and night but in reality
had hardly exchanged more than a couple of brief
“bonjours” with him. Until one day as I was leaving my
dance class and rushing to take the metro home I saw him
sitting by himself at an outdoors table of the cafe near
the dance center. He saw me too, and for once I felt
that he really looked at me, I mean, took me in. We
exchanged some words and he asked me to join him for a
drink. I had an “express” and he finished his beer. When
he had paid, he pointed to his motorcycle and said: “hop
on the back, I’ll give you a ride home.”

I told him where I lived. He told me to hang on tight
and we were off. I put my arms around him and rested one
check against his back. I felt the vibration of the bike
on the inside of my thighs and on my rear. I squeezed
tighter with both arms and legs and enjoyed the feel of
Rene’s leather jacket as I rested my check on it. We
took a bridge to the Ile Saint Louis in the middle of
the Seine, and again across the river to the Left Bank
and the Latin Quarter. On my right I caught sight of
Notre Dame Cathedral on the Ile de la Cite. The wind
blew my streaming long black hair behind me. I felt my
nipples grow erect from the cool wind or by their
pressing against Rene’s back I’m not sure which.

When we reached my street off the Place d’Italie, Rene
parked his bike and walked me to the entrance of our
building. Much to my embarrassment (because of my fear
of being recognized by the Chinese residents who lived
in the area), but also to my great pleasure, Rene titled
my head back and gave me a long kiss on the lips. His
tongue eased my lips open and one hand pinched first one
then the other erect nipple that was straining against
the fabric of my leotard. He pressed himself against me
and I felt his erection. We kissed again, and then I
broke from his embrace and rushed into our building.

Only my mother was at home, and I quickly made to my
room to change. I just hoped that my flushed face had
not made my mother suspicious. When I striped off my
pink tights, I noticed that the cotton gusset was moist
from my arousal. I drew a finger over the stickiness and
tasted it with my tongue. I felt a certain satisfaction
and pride in this sign of my emerging womanhood. That
night I had vivid intense erotic dreams.

The next day at school Rene and I saw each other and we
arranged to spend the next Saturday afternoon together.
(I knew I could use as an excuse for my parents an extra
rehearsal at the dance school.) Right after lunch on
Saturday, I headed to the metro station but instead of
taking it to Right Bank where my dance school was, I
changed metros and ended up in the posh 7th arrondisment
on the Left Bank.

We met on the Rue St Dominque and, after a long deep
kiss, Rene led me quickly by the hand into his family’s
vast apartment with its view of the Champ de Mars and
the Eiffel Tower. His family was out – in fact I was to
find out that they were usually away on weekends at
their country estate in Normandy. We had the place to
ourselves. Rene showed me around and we ended up in his
bedroom.

We kissed again passionately. I lifted my arms over my
head, and Rene eased off my sweater. He moved his hands
to feel my breasts through my leotard. I closed my eyes
and bit my lips to keep from moaning with pleasure. Rene
kissed my eyes, my neck, my lips. One hand slid down to
my jeans and unbuttoned them. I kicked off my shoes, as
Rene pulled my jeans down over my hips. I stepped free
of my jeans and Rene eased my leotard over my shoulders
and I stepped free of it too.

As usual I was not wearing a bra under my leotard, and
as my breasts became free, Rene quickly covered them
with his hands. I pressed myself against him and he
moved a leg between mine. Again I felt his strong
erection through his jeans. He pushed me gently onto my
back on his bed and lifting my legs spread them apart.
As I was not wearing panties under my pink ballet
tights, he had a good view through the nylon gauze of my
most private parts. I felt all his. He put his nose down
there and sniffed me and gently rubbed his nose against
the nylon and then started using his tongue to prod me
gently.

Without his having to ask, I raised my hips and pressed
back with each prod of his tongue. He slid my tights
off, and I was now totally naked before him. His tongue
returned to its work and soon I was grasping and moaning
under his ministrations. I reached out with one hand and
grabbed his erection. He quickly took off all his
clothes and I gasped in admiration of his proud manhood.
He pulled my head towards it and told me to kiss it,
tongue it and then take it in my mouth. Pushing me back
onto my back, he eased himself into me.

As my hymen ruptured, I felt a momentary pain and then
with his thrusting into me, pleasure took over and was
rewarded when I felt Rene flood me with his cum.

That afternoon we made love two more times, including
one time when he brought be to orgasm with his tongue
working my clitoris as I was sucking him. He shot his
stuff into my mouth just after I came. The third time he
took me from behind and as he pumped me he reached in
front of me with one hand and put a finger over my
clitoris. I rubbed my self against his finger and came
again while once again he flooded me with his cum.

Exhausted I lay back naked on the bed and we both slept
for a while. When I woke, I found myself alone in Rene’s
room. I found my pink tights and pulled them on. I stood
up and was hunting around for the rest of my clothes,
when there was a flash and I realized that Rene had
snapped a picture of me. Shocked, I turned around and
faced him and he quickly snapped another picture of me
wearing nothing but tights. I giggled and threw myself
into his arms.

You may ask why I share all these intimate details with
you. It is because I want you to understand how totally
his I was. He could make me do anything for his
pleasure, and indeed, mine. Little did I realize just
then, just how far this could lead.

*** Chapter 3

The next two weeks were a frenzy of sexual craving and
fulfillment. I was constantly being satisfied, but
constantly craving more. Everyday after ballet, Rene
picked me up on his motorbike. As he raced his motorbike
to his apartment, I hugged him from behind, and would
play games like reaching for him and fondling him until
I could feel his hardness rise up and strain against his
jeans. This would incite him to roar all that much
faster through the narrow streets to his apartment.

Usually only the maid would be present. We would move
directly to his room. I would do a little striptease for
Rene as I shed my ballet outfit. Sometimes, Rene would
shoot a few pictures using his digital camera. He told
me he looked at them on his computer every morning
before school and every night before sleeping. Once
before I had time to strip off my tights, he slipped a
hand inside them.

I did a slow a plie. As I bent my knees, I opened up;
and as I lowered myself onto Rene’s hand, a finger
slipped inside me. Another time, I had leg warmers with
me. After I had stripped, Rene helped me pull them onto
my naked legs and as he adjusted them, he allowed the
back of his hand to brush against my pussy. I sat on the
edge of the bed and pulled his head to me and between my
legs. My legs, in their woolen warmers, were like a vice
that wouldn’t let go until he had satisfied me with his
tongue.

Only when I arched my back in my orgasm did I allow him
up. As he kissed my mouth, I remember tasting my self on
his lips and tongue.

On the first Saturday after we started our affair, I
told my mother I’d be staying with one of my girlfriends
overnight. In fact, I met Rene at a cafe and from there
we went to his apartment. After we had made love, I
changed into a short black dress that I wore over black
tights. I had bought the dress earlier that day from a
small boutique near Les Halles with some money I had
saved up.

The dress was made out of a tight fitting Lycra
material, so I did not need to wear a bra. But my
breasts were beautifully held and shaped by the dress.
I’m a naturally modest person but when I looked at
myself in the mirror I couldn’t help but notice how
attractive and sexy I looked. The dress only went about
a third way down my thighs and my legs looked great in
the black tights.

That evening we went out to dinner. Rene seemed pleased
to show me off. We got a lot of stares from both men and
women. It was the first time I had been taken to a
restaurant by a boyfriend. It was an old Brasserie
across the river between the Marais and the Bastille.
After dinner we went to a crowded bar in the Marais.

The bar was in the basement of an old building. There
were a couple of rooms. In one of them was the bar
itself, in the other there was music and people were
dancing. It was so crowded and noisy. Rene and I
squeezed into the room where people were dancing.
Everybody was tightly packed together. It was a slow
music. Rene put his arms around me and we danced in a
tight embrace. I buried my face into his shoulder and
held him around his waist. I felt him put both hands on
my butt and draw me close to him.

My parents would have been shocked to see me there with
Rene, but I felt I was in heaven. There I was, 16 years
old, taken out at night for the first time, by a man
whom I thought I loved passionately, and who stimulated
and satisfied such intense sexual feelings. We kissed as
we danced and I could feel Rene’s manhood stirring just
as I felt myself getting moist with anticipation.

All of a sudden, I became aware of a pair of eyes
staring at me. Looking up, I saw a young man staring at
us. Our eyes met and he smiled. He squeezed through the
crowd and putting a hand on Rene’s shoulder said:
“Salut, Rene, c’est qui ta copine?” Rene introduced us.
His name was Marc. He was very good-looking in a male-
model sort of way. He had a strong jaw line, a handsome
face and a thin graceful body.

Rene nodded at Marc’s raised eyebrow, and I found myself
in his arms dancing to the slow music. I rested my head
on Marc’s shoulder and as I glanced at Rene, he smiled
his encouragement. I closed my eyes and took in the
differences between Rene’s and Marc’s bodies. Rene was
stronger, Marc more graceful. Marc was a little taller
and with my arms around my hands rested on his butt.
Keeping my eyes closed, I savored Marc’s smell.

When I opened my eyes again, Rene was still there
smiling. I closed my eyes again. Marc moved a leg
between mine. I gasped when I felt his strong erection.
My thoughts became very confused. There was Rene, the
man I loved, smiling at me, while I danced with his
friend in a close embrace and felt his friend’s
unmistaken desire for me. I felt a little guilt, but
even more I felt a certain pride and pleasure in being
part of Rene’s world where handsome men wanted to dance
with me and were obviously attracted to me.

It was past mid-night when we emerged from the bar.
There were still plenty of people wandering the streets
of the Marais. The stone of the buildings gave a soft
warm feeling to the light that bounced off their surface
from the lamps. I gave one arm to Rene and one to Marc.
We walked to Marc’s apartment on the Rue des Francs-
Bourgeois.

It was in a 17th century Hotel de Ville. There were
waxed hexagonal tiles on the floor and old oak beams
supporting the ceiling. Rene and I settled onto a couch
while Marc got us some drinks. Marc sat facing us. We
talked for a while, but I was getting sleepy so I put my
head on Rene’s lap and, kicking my shoes off, put my
feet up on the couch. As I did so, Marc moved over to
our couch and sat so my feet were on his lap.

I closed my eyes and listened to Marc and Rene talk. I
didn’t pay attention to what they were saying but
enjoyed listening to their voices. Marc began rubbing my
feet and Rene stroked my face with one hand. His other
hand rested on my shoulders. Marc lifted on of my feet
and kissed it. He said to Rene: “her feet smell so
good”. Putting my foot down, he began to massage my
calves. Meanwhile, Rene leaned forward and kissed me
slowly on the lips. As he did so, Marc moved his hands
to my thighs. “Elle est superbe”, I heard him say,
“quelles cuisses!”

I opened my eyes. Rene smiled at me and asked: “tu aimes
Marc?” I nodded yes and closed my eyes. When Marc
touched the crotch of my tights, I was already moist. I
was too aroused to feel embarrassed about not wearing
panties. When Marc spread my legs, putting on leg over
the back of the coach and the other on the floor, the
lips of my pussy opened and were plastered against my
moist tights. His fingers pressed against me and when he
touched my clitoris I pushed up to meet him. “Elle est
toute mouillee” he said to Rene. Rene meanwhile had both
hands on my breasts and was feeling my nipples through
my dress. They were nicely erect.

When at last we moved to Marc’s bedroom, Marc and Rene
eased my dress over my shoulders, I stood before them in
my black tights. Marc reached for my breasts and rolled
my nipples between his thumb and fingers. Rene gently
spanked my butt and then passed a hand between my legs
and felt my moisture. At Rene’s urging, I helped Marc
out of his clothes, while Rene took off his own. Marc’s
manhood stood at full attention. I reached for it and
when I saw Rene nod his head I took it my mouth.

While I had Marc in my mouth, Rene lowered my tights and
tongued me. Just as I felt myself reach orgasm, Rene
took Marc’s place. While I sucked Rene, Marc inserted
himself inside me from behind. Marc’s pumping soon had
me on the verge of orgasm and as I came, Marc flooded me
with his cum. Rene soon followed. As I felt him about to
come, I stopped sucking him and put hands on his shaft.
I could feel the cum emerge from his cock as it shot out
and covered my face.

We collapsed on the bed and I slept between Marc and
Rene. We slept for no more than an hour before I felt
Marc stir and get hard and then Rene. When at last
Sunday morning’s light came through the window we had
made love three times.

*** Chapter 4

The American continues the story…

When I got to know Ann better, she told me about Marc
and Rene. To be honest I was shocked that such a pure,
polite and beautiful 16 year old girl could become so
enamored by a boy that she would let not only him but
one of his friends make love to her. And I was even more
shocked and angry when Ann told me the sequel to the
events described above.

Ann had arranged to meet Rene at his apartment the
following weekend. When she arrived, the maid met her
and informed her that Rene had stepped out and was not
yet back. No one was at home just now, but of course she
was welcome to stay until Rene returned. After poking
around the living room a little, Ann decided to wait in
Rene’s room.

She noticed that Rene had left his computer on. The
screen saver was active. She was curious to see what he
had been working on. Expecting something to do with
homework. Imagine her shock, as she touched the mouse,
on seeing a picture of a nude woman. Her first reaction
was of disbelief. But as she moved back and forth
through various screens, she realized she was in a group
site where members posted and shared pictures and
stories of naked women.

She soon got to a page with a list of messages. As she
glanced down it, she was stunned to see that the title
of one of the messages was “Ann La Chinoise”. Ann opened
the message. It was written by Rene and had two pictures
of her: one of her naked, it must of been that first
time she was with Rene, and one of her sucking Marc.
Rene must have taken it the preceding weekend.

Ann was so angry that she smashed the screen of the
notebook computer with her fists and ran out of the
apartment. As her anger subsided, she was overcome with
shame. To think that photos of her nude were being
circulated on the internet. And the worst of it was, she
had no idea of whom might have seen them, or would be
seeing them. And if someone were to pass them on to her
family?

The following week, Ann did not have to feign sickness
to avoid showing her face at school. She was truly made
ill by the shock. When eventually she did venture back
to school, she creped in at the last moment, avoided
looking at anyone in the eye, and was one of the first
to leave.

As for Rene, she severed all contact with him. The last
she heard of him (and that was a couple of years after
the events described above) was when a corruption
scandal hit the newspapers involving his father. It
turned out that their fancy apartment belonged to the
city of Paris and was leant to them in return for
financial favors. Like father, like son, she thought.

Ann slowly recovered. Her anger transformed into a grim
determination not to ever again be at the mercy of a
man. In any case, men had no attraction to her. She
found herself working every woken hour either on her
school work or on her an dance. When she finally
graduated from the Lycee, it was at the top of her
class. As for dance, Ann found the world of ballet to be
an environment where she could forget all about the
outside world and her sad adventure with men. Her
sexuality, buried somewhere deep inside her, expressed
itself through the physical exercise of dance. The dance
center was essentially a feminine environment. Ann felt
totally comfortable and secure in it.

Perhaps you wonder if Ann, renouncing men, might not
have been attracted to some other women at her dance
center. In fact, she was attracted to several of them,
and one in particular. She was one of Ann’s teachers (I
found out later she was the middle-aged woman who had
met me the first time I went to the dance center). Her
name was Valerie. Ann was one of Valerie’s very best
students. There was a natural attraction between a
teacher and a willing and able student. But the
attraction went deeper.

Valerie had all the poise and self-assurance that Ann,
following her encounter with Rene, was desperately
seeking. As for Valerie, she must have seen in Ann
someone who was not only a beautiful, gifted student,
but someone who was vulnerable and needed some
protection. One day after a Saturday afternoon dance
class, Valerie asked Ann if she would like to go to her
club with her that day. Ann accepted with pleasure.

After changing out of their dance clothes, they walked a
few blocks from the dance center to one of the narrow,
medieval streets which gives onto the Pompidou center.
Valerie knocked on a non-descript door. A small shutter
was opened and Valerie talked though it. As the door was
opened, Valerie turned to Ann and explained that it was
a private club for women who wanted to be totally
pampered. It was very luxurious and expensive and
Valerie was only able to afford to go for a special
treat occasionally. Most of the club members were women
executives who had the financial means to come more
regularly.

Valerie explained they would start by soaking in a warm
pool. They undressed and left their clothes with an
attendant. Ann noticed that the attendants all wore thin
white dresses and white fishnet tights. A number of
other women were already in the pool. The water was
warm, and soon Ann was relaxed with her eyes shut
sitting on a ledge under the water and letting her head
rest on the edge of the pool. As she rested her head, an
attendant moved to place a folded towel under her head
so she would be more comfortable. There was a very
soothing background music. Ann almost dozed off to sleep
when Valerie touched her and asked if she was ready for
a massage. They got out of the pool and attendants
passed them towels which they wrapped around their
waists.

One of the attendants then led them to a private room
where two long mats had been laid about two feet from
each other on the floor. Long thick towels covered the
mats. A small vase with flowers was a the head of each
mat. There was also a bowl with a stick of incense
burning in the corner. As Ann took in the quiet restful
tranquility of the room, a half dozen attendants came
into the room. Valerie told Ann she had to choose one
for her massage. Ann was quick to choose one who looked
Scandinavian with short-cropped blond hair and an
attractive smile. Valerie then chose hers, an Oriental
girl with high check-bones.

Ann’s attendant lead her to one of the mats, took her
towel and helped her lie face down on the mat. Ann
turned her head so she could see Valerie lying on her
mat in the same way. She felt the Scandinavian girl’s
hands on her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes to
enjoy the massage. After her neck, shoulders and back,
it was the turn for her feet and legs. It felt so good,
after dancing in toe-shoes to have her feet massaged and
the soreness in her legs attended to. She briefly opened
her eyes and saw that Valerie was getting the same
treatment from the Oriental girl. Valerie’s legs were
slightly spread, and the girl was massaging her inner
thighs. Ann spread her legs and her inner thighs were
also massaged.

As the Scandinavian’s hands got closer to her that
special place between her legs, Ann realized that in
this soothing comfortable environment she would not be
shocked or upset if indeed that special place also got
massaged, in fact she might even welcome it. As if
sensing her thoughts, the Scandinavian attendant was
gently brushing the side of her hands against her spot.
After a while, when she sensed that Ann was comfortable
with this attention, the Scandinavian used one her hands
to knead the cheeks of her fanny and ever so gently the
hole in between.

Ann heard Valerie move. She opened her eyes and saw that
Valerie was now lying on her back. Ann decided to do the
same. The Scandinavian attendant helped her roll over,
and as she looked at Ann’s trim and well-toned body, she
said “tu es belle”. Again she started with Ann’s
shoulders and arms, but soon got to Ann’s breasts. She
cupped them in her hands and with a couple of fingers
gently pinched and rolled the nipples back and forth.
Ann felt her nipples getting erect and let out a very
soft moan of satisfaction. She glanced over at Valerie.
Valerie was looking at her and returned her smile.

The Oriental girl had taken off her white dress and
fishnet tights was rubbing her whole body against
Valerie’s. Ann glanced up her Scandinavian attendant who
was continuing to massage her breasts and play with her
nipples. The Scandinavian caught Ann’s glance and
whispered “you want?” Ann nodded and kneeling next to
Ann, the Scandinavian slipped out of her white dress.
Under her dress she only had her on her white fishnet
tights. Ann couldn’t help herself from reaching out and
feeling them, by running her hand up and down one thigh.
The Scandinavian sat next to Ann and drew her knees up
to her chest and then spread them so that Ann had a
perfect view of the fishnets covering the beautiful
Scandinavian’s blond pussy. Ann had never seen anything
quite some blatantly erotic and she gasped slightly.

Sensing Ann’s hesitation but also her desire, the
Scandinavian took Ann’s hand and drew it to her. Ann
felt the warm and moisture of the Scandinavian as she
pushed softly against her fishnet covered pussy. The
Scandinavian allowed Ann to play with down there for a
while. She then reached for a bottle of oil and, taking
off her fishnets, covered herself with oil and began
rubbing her whole body against Ann’s. Ann closed her
eyes in pleasure as she felt the soft firmness of the
Scandinavian’s breasts rub against her own. Their legs
were soon intertwined and, instinctively, Ann bent a
knee so that her leg could feel the inviting warmth of
the Scandinavian’s spot.

At the same time she felt the other’s leg move between
hers, and soon the two young women were rubbing their
moist spots against each other’s leg. They kissed and
then the Scandinavian moved between Ann’s legs and began
kissing and licking her down there. Her clitoris was
standing out nicely erect and with the attention it was
getting from the Scandinavian’s lips and tongue, Ann
felt herself reach the edge of orgasm. But before going
over the edge, she managed to move so that the
Scandinavian was straddling her face so she could return
the favor she was receiving. She spread the
Scandinavian’s lips with her fingers and found the
clitoris with her tongue.

Soon the two young women had brought each other to edge
of orgasm, and this time they went over it, first Ann,
and then the Scandinavian, her duty to Ann accomplished.

Afterwards, Ann and Valerie lay on their sides looking
at each other. They smiled contentedly like two cats.
Their attendants had withdrawn from the room and the two
women just rested and relaxed, enjoying each other’s
company, the smell of the incense, the sight of the
fresh-cut flowers and the tranquility of the room.

When Ann told me about her visit to the club, I asked
her how she felt about it and if was the first time she
had been intimate with another woman. It was her first
time and she said that all along she felt very
comfortable with what was happening. Maybe it was the
presence of her trusted teacher Valerie or simply the
fact that the whole idea of the club was to let the
women customers be comfortable with themselves, with no
pressure to do or be anything other than what they felt
like at the club.

The attendants were there to serve the women in whatever
they wanted. They might indeed get physically intimate
with the customers, but they always remained somewhat
anonymous. They didn’t give their names, and customers
were not given the chance to request a particular
attendant, except among those available and offered at
the time of their visit. Ann never saw the Scandinavian
again, even though she did return to the club with
Valerie a few times.

As for her relationship with Valerie, it seemed somehow
best not to get physically intimate with each other.
Obviously they were very close at an emotional and
intellectual level. And they enjoyed each other’s
company on their occasional visits to the club, but they
both felt that a physical relationship would get in the
way. Maybe if they weren’t seeing each other almost
every day at the dance center, they could have enjoyed a
physical relationship without upsetting their day-to-day
relationship.

By the time I started taking Ann’s class at the dance
center, she had of course graduated from her Lycee and
was studying at the Sorbonne. Since one year she was
also teaching a class every evening at the dance center
to help pay her way. In some ways she had gotten over
her relationship with Rene. She had discovered in her
dance and in her occasional visits to the club with
Valerie and outlet for her sexual urgings. As I was to
discover, she kept her resolve never again to be
dominated by a man.

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