Nice, Cotes D'Azur, South of France, October 25, 1978
Doug Anderson had moved to Europe in the summer of 1978 for work. His head office was in Geneva, but most of his time was spent in the south of France. He kept an apartment in Nice, 5
th
largest city in France, gateway to Italy and a hotbed of crime and corruption.
The Cote D'Azur was the playground of the rich and famous. Rock stars, Hollywood legends and faded European royalty all lived there. From Cannes to Monaco, there was always a party going on; and always a seamy undercurrent of criminality persisted. Smugglers, drug dealers, con men and prostitutes were everywhere.
Nice was its capital and for Doug, a transplanted Canadian from Montreal, it was a great place to be.
Doug was 6'3" tall blue eyed and blonde, with a trim body honed by years of competitive swimming. At the age of 27, he still swam to stay in shape and had a very impressive physique with broad shoulders, slim waist, and very strong legs. He was also the proud owner of a very large, fat 10-inch cock that the super tight jeans of the day did little to hide.
Doug woke Monday morning still recovering from his brutal milking at the hands of the Rinauld sisters (CH.7). His balls were swollen and red, his cock throbbed in a half hard state that would not go away, and his prostate felt like a billiard ball had been stuffed up his ass.
"It must be the lingering effects of the analgesic cream."
Not sure what to do, Doug thought he'd go and see Martine at the Pharmacy Dussault. It was probably her cream the sisters had used, maybe she had something to counter its' effects.
Dressed in his usual skin-tight jeans, Doug's swollen cock was prominently on display as he walked through the hotel lobby. The formidable Madame was at her usual spot behind the front desk, and she made no effort to hide her admiring gaze as she ogled his crotch.
"Something special on your mind today Monsieur Dooglas?"
"No Madame, just going to the pharmacy."
"Well say hello to Martine for me. Have a nice day."
"Thank you, Madame."
Entering the pharmacy, Doug could see Martin Dussault behind the counter at the back. As usual, she managed to look very sexy in her utilitarian smock and high heels. On a shelf behind her, Doug saw the bird's beak face mask of the Plague Doctor he had met at the party Friday night.
"So, Madame Plague Doctor, we meet again."
"It's Mademoiselle Plague Doctor, and yes it was me at the party. Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Yes, it was a very interesting evening, highlighted by some private time with the Rinauld sisters."
"And how did that go?"
"It was very enlightening, but that's why I've come to see you."
Doug explained the evenings events in general terms so Martine could grasp what had happened.
"Ah, so you have replaced Jonathan the butler as the source for their personal cream."
"That's possible, but right now I need some help with a different problem. Since that night my penis won't go down, my testicles are swollen, and God knows what my prostate is doing. I think it may have something to do with a cream they used."
"That analgesic cream is one of my creations and it should not have such long lasting effects. Wait here."
Martine went to the front of the store and hung the "A Retour" sign on the door. That's the French way of saying "Back in 15 Minutes". Locking the door, she walked behind the counter and removed her smock. She wore a short pencil skirt and very tight blouse that showed off her nicely shaped boobs.
"Come here and remove your pants, I need to inspect your genitals."
Doug obliged, quickly dropping his pants and underwear. Martine took his balls in one hand and massaged them lightly, rolling them between her fingers.
"They are rather swollen. Does that hurt?"