Phoebe Sex-pot. How to water a peculiar Parisian flower.
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Bonjour je me apelle Phoebe. I live in Paris, I am a fashion designer and I'm 34 years old. I'm not married, I don't have a boyfriend. I live alone with my cat, Ginger. I paint, smoke ganja and have lots of money. I'm a rich daughter of an ambassador, so I've enjoyed many pleasures. One pleasure, however I seek most. That is, I am a sex pot.
I go to parties, not the rich type, all the time. I like to go down into the city to hear good music, drink, find weed and prostitutes. I hook up with girls at the strip club sometimes. Because I like the excitement.
I get turned around sometimes end up hitting every spot along my night travels with girls in my limo. We all go down on each other and when the sun comes up, my drives drops them off and I go home. I figured if one of them liked me enough she'd stay but none did.
One day I was out on the street smoking a cigarette. I was at a small gallery showing, a young painter was showing some of his work. Matisse, He was 25 by the look of him, tall and unbelievably handsome. His art was as wild as he was. I saw him smoking weed and asked if I could join. We hit it off right away. Matisse told me he has seen me before on my nightly travels. He asked me if I'd like to stay after the show for a drink and I said yes.
As the crowd dwindled there was only the two of us left, I bought a top shelf bottle and we drank it to ourselves . I told him I was going to get my driver and he will drop him off anywhere he'd like to go. We were in the car and he says "Take me to your place." I told him no one comes to my place that isn't sleeping with me. He caresses my cheek and kisses me and responds "I will be of no exception." That was enough confirmation for me. We fuck in my limo and then again in my bed. He was the best lover I'd ever had.
Matisse sparks a cigarette and stands naked at my balcony his body is beautiful in the moonlight. I just stared at him, waiting for him to run away but instead he stays to watch the sun come up with me. Cuddling me. I asked him if he had ever been with an older woman before, he laughs and says every other night.
Matisse lives with his friend down at the art gallery and is a call boy for older women. Immediately my mind flashed back to a time I've seen him on the street. I jumped and sat up in bed. He smiled and said "Do you remember me now?" I remembered that a year ago he came up to me and asked if i was going into this sex club not too far from the gallery. I was so high that I didn't realize he was coming on to me.
"So is this a trap!?" I said pulling the covers away.
