Chase Your Pleasures in Paris. Ida J

choice of underwear.

      There is another area in the other direction, another room with a couple of wide sex sofas, leading to a golden-lit room with red velvet banquettes and poles. This room is less dark than the last, it has an entrance through a small entryway, where a few tentative people lurk, unsure of the protocol for entering. We pass them and saunter through the scene. At one end of the room, a woman is getting fucked, surrounded by men. Some of them are without trousers, cocks out and pointed in the direction of the woman. On the sofa across from this scene, a bacchanalian configuration of couples makes a contorted tableau of limbs and orifices attached to appendages. I think Jared would like to stay and watch, perhaps join in. Personally I always just feel rather awkward watching, and there’s no one I’m interested in getting genital with here.

      We order another round, taking in the scenery again. The bartender is gorgeous, tall with close-cropped dark hair and high cheekbones, dark eyes that are wide and cat-like, arched brows and slim lips. I wonder if we can take him home. But it seems crass to proposition the staff. The things these guys (all men, all dressed in suit trousers and dress shirts) must have seen, I think to myself. He gives us a few free rounds of champagne, with a cheeky smile, hands pressed together as if in prayer. He’s young, can’t be older than 25. I wonder how one comes by a job here. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably his student job. What a hilarious student job, to watch the olds get drunk and go at it with each other’s wives, I think, the average age must be 30s. There are people from around 25 to around 50 here, I’d say, although I don’t think there’s a woman over 40 in the place.

      The people watching is pretty good, it has to be said. Watching people outside their comfort zone is always interesting. And basically everyone here is a little uncomfortable, some more so than others. A hot couple around our age catch our eye. She is slim with long dark hair, he has a handsome face with a beard, wears a white shirt open a couple of buttons too low, with a gold necklace. They take one of the tables, we take one next to them, trying to catch their gaze. But they’re too wrapped up in each other to notice us, they start to kiss, he runs hands up her leg. We turn back towards each other as he starts to finger her, his large hand in her black mesh panties.

      Somehow, I get it into my head that I should show off my underwear. I have a loose black shift over a mesh bodysuit, with a bejewelled ensemble over the top, a present from Jared. The jewels wind around my neck and breasts like a bra, they come with a matching suspender belt made of bejewelled chains. We decide to do the tour again. We’re slightly tipsy on champagne. The darkroom is fuller this time. Jared looks around hopefully. I kiss him, I know he’s keen to see some action, I hope he won’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t happen.

      I sink to my knees, unzipping the fly of his oxblood suit. I untuck the shirt with its fine blue print. Strange to see him dressed like this, he does sometimes dress up, but it’s not often I see him looking like this. It’s quite sexy, he has some air of traditional masculinity in his height and broad shoulders, his structured jaw, but to see him play it up like it’s the fifties is compelling.

      Wrestling his cock from his underwear, I take it in my mouth, looking up. The shirt makes curtains either side of it, I push it up with one hand. He watches me, then surveys the scene surrounding us. Several couples fuck on the bench, a naked man’s back and buttocks visible, movements shrouded by the low light. His hand is on my head, a disembodied hand snakes its way to my crotch, starts to move between my legs, pushing aside the mesh. I never find out who this hand belongs to, but it continues its work diligently.

      A woman has been sitting on the bench behind me, sucking her partner’s cock. We pull the cocks from our mouths at the same time as she reaches for Jared. Her plump lips swaddle his glans, her heavy eyeliner flickers upwards, her long dark hair slicked back from her face. Her earrings dangle, moving a little as she sucks. Her partner and I watch the scene for an instant, then lock eyes. “Venez ici,” I say. Later it occurs to me that it’s rather funny to be using the formal mode of address under the circumstances. He shuffles over, large thick firm cock protruding from under his black shirt. The shiny glans matches his shiny shaved head, they are trashy glam, well taken care of people who look very Cote d’Azur. It’s a pleasant cock to suck, large and hard as a rock. Tiny bursts of semen gush occasionally from its rock hard tip. I can hear Jared making noises of pleasure next to me. Madame is clearly good at what she’s doing. Nice as this is, we hit an impasse. She and I turn towards each other, catch each other’s gaze for a moment. I introduce myself and we both giggle, kissing on the lips instinctively. Jared and I head to the bar, leaving them to it in the darkrooms. It is at this point that I realise I have left my dress behind in the darkroom. I’ll find it later, I say blithely.