Continues from 1. On The Train
“Le corps” – Pierre Corratgé
I left the train and went into the station to arrange a pension for the night. I was still slightly dazed to be honest. How had she done that? And what exactly was it that she’d done anyway? Had she hypnotized me? Was I so susceptible? I had never thought of myself as being as passive or as easily led as that.
And another thing – I had never really had any physical lesbian experiences before. A few crushes when I was a teen. And there was the time when I was about 16 when a couple of older girls had cornered me in the locker room after a gym session. One of them said she had been watching me and thought I had a cute ass. The other one suddenly demanded “Take your top off” and the first girl grabbed my breasts. I was dumbfounded. Nothing further happened though as someone came in and they left. I thought no more of it. I liked boys. The idea of making it with a girl or even that a girl would want to make it with me had never really interested me.
The whole thing bothered me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I barely noticed any of Paris through the taxi windows as I went to the pension.
I had been to Paris before and had always enjoyed it but this time it didn’t do anything for me. I hate saying that but I couldn’t concentrate and had started to feel a little depressed.
One night I had a dream about what had happened in the train and I woke up wet and feeling very horny. I then had another dream about the locker room incident. The dream featured the two girls from the train and this time no one came in and I did as I was told.
“Take your top off. Strip! C’mon! Get your shorts off too. And panties. Hurry!”
They led me back into the empty college gym and made me perform my gymnastic routine for them naked. I felt good and sensed I was at the peak of my fitness. My body responded naturally, freed of the constraints that clothes bring. My movements became unconscious. My body knew what to do better than I did. I also loved sensing the cool air on my naked flesh. When I was on the beam and using the high bars I felt like I was dancing for them. I also sensed my own desire for them to look at me, feast upon me, devour me, and it really turned me on and focused me. It was a brilliant performance – one of my best.
When I finished, the woman with the blue eyes told me to raise my arms and bend over backwards and touch the floor. I was like an upside down crab. My hands and feet were touching the floor but my stretched and exposed pussy, belly and breasts faced up. My head was upside down and I couldn’t see them.
“Stay like that. Don’t move.”
Photo – Helmut Newton
Her hands caressed me, soothing me. I was still panting from the routine but I soon began to feel very calm. She was tender. Her hands seemed to float over me – the slightest presence, like a breeze. She stroked the tips of my nipples. Her fingertips lightly pinched and then softly kneaded them until they swelled and became hard and pointed. Then, holding the nipple between two fingers, she used her fingernails to pinch hard and pull at them. I cried out but she ignored me and continued with ever increasing force. It hurt but it was an exhilarating pain. I was naked and vulnerable but my body felt hard and strong. I didn’t want to move; I enjoyed my submissiveness and felt no discomfort. She owned me. I was an empty receptacle to be filled by her power and will. Dominant and submissive but there was a union of equals between us. I realized the strength of her desire for me, her need for me. And my own need for her would only make me stronger.
She then caressed my belly and slid down to my pussy. Her fingers entered me. Probing deep. A soft rhythm gathered pace. Her fingers danced inside me. I could feel a warm glow of exquisite pleasure building within me. I yielded to her. I so wanted her inside me. Deeper. Deeper. Please… My body eagerly surrendered to her and I felt a wild heat devouring me. I wanted it to go on and on but… she abruptly stopped.
“Put your hands behind your head and look at me.”
I obeyed. I couldn’t get those blue eyes out of my head. She looked at me like she knew more about me than I did.
Then I awoke. And I knew I had to see her.
I still had the Marie Claire with the phone number. Her friend had obviously written it there. Odd. Had they wanted me to call? But what was I going to say? “Hey, I have your magazine. You left it on the train. Do you want it back?” It sounded pretty lame. I would also have to explain myself in French. That wasn’t going to be easy.
Anyway, my last day in Paris and I decided to call. After all, what did I have to lose? If there were any doubts I dismissed them. Like my father, I trusted everything would work out fine. I had the magazine in my bag. I took it out and looked at the number. There was something written underneath. Besos de cuero. That was Spanish not French. From what I remembered of my Spanish from school I think it translated as leather kisses. Or kisses of leather. That seemed a little weird and I doubted for a moment. But what the hell. I called.
The number rang. A woman answered. “Allô?”
I said my well-rehearsed French sentence “Bonjour. J’étais dans le train l’autre jour. J’étais assis à côté de vous. J’ai votre magazine…Je suis désolé, je ne parle pas bien français. Parlez-vous anglais?” I stopped and waited. There was a pause.
“Yes I can speak English. What do you want?”
“I have your magazine…”
She laughed, “That’s OK. You can keep it.” There was another pause. I heard her say something in French. There was someone else there. There was a definite tone of amusement in her voice.
“Did you want anything else?”
I tried to explain. “Something happened to me on the train. When you were looking at me… I can’t get it out of my head. I don’t know how to explain…”
“So what do you want?”
“I want to know… how you did it. I would like to see you. I want to know… more…” I so sounded like a flustered schoolgirl.
Again, there was a short conversation in French. It was obviously the two of them but which was I talking to? The woman with the eyes or her friend?
“OK. Listen. And listen well. At exactly 9pm tonight you go back to the station. Go to the same platform. If you are late, don’t call back. You only get one chance, ok?”
The call suddenly ended. That was that.
Her tone had been peremptory. Just go and wait in the station? It was like an order. Would they come and pick me up? Why not just give an address or meet in a bar?
Anyway, I knew I would go. I would take the magazine. We’d maybe have a coffee and chat and, if it didn’t lead to anything, I could catch a night train from the station to somewhere far away.
Continues 3. Realms of Bliss, Realms of Light