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 looked 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, n 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.

Part 2

Ann continues the story

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
caf ‘s 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 caf 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.

Part 3
Ann continues the story

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 caf
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.

Part 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.