Becci's first visit to Théâtre Chochotte left her eager and longing for more. From the moment she descended the staircase she immediately caught the attention of the audience and dancers alike.
Her wrap dress was closed by just a single silk belt, and with each step she had indecently exposed herself to the strangers gathered below. A few men were seated just to the side of the stairs; the best vantage point to watch her entrance. She was sure that they must have caught a brief glimpse of her pink glistening slit on alternate steps, and her nipple as she turned at the bottom. Her pussy flooded as she imagined their concealed arousal.
Once seated, the power she exerted over those gathered around her intensified as she obediently submitted herself to Paul, letting him touch her intimately, and climaxed as he untied her dress and the young dancer had caressed her and toyed with her.
As she left the theatre her vagina felt achingly empty; she desperately needed to be stretched, filled and pounded. To think that she had pulled Paul down to the path by La Seine, that she had pleaded with him to take her there and then, and to her shame that they had been seen. Yet also harboured a deep regret that she had refused to go on stage; what if she never got another chance?
Becci woke from a dream in the early hours of the following morning. A young and beautiful French dancer had pulled her down to the performance area, then blindfolded her and stripped her.
Her recollection was vivid and complete, as if it had really happened. Once on stage the naked girl had lightly kissed her from her thighs up to her moist and parted lips, lingering on her pussy and breasts as she advanced. Becci was displayed to the audience still blindfolded, and led back to Paul by a circuitous route.
The hands of many unseen and unknown men caressed her body as she passed by, cupping her breasts, and running their hands along her legs and between her inner thighs. A few touched her seeping slit and swollen clit. Of course it was highly unlikely that things could go that far in real life, but yet she trembled at the thought of what might happen if she got the chance to return.
Later that afternoon they visited Sacré-Coeur on the summit of butte Montmatre. It is the highest point in the city with incredible views, but Becci's mind was elsewhere. She whispered, "Can we go back to Théâtre Chochotte? Please, I'll do anything you want?"
Back in their hotel Becci shaved and plucked all extraneous body hairs she could find, showered and exfoliated, and then dried and moisturised her skin. She applied vibrant red lipstick and nail polish, and wore her hair up, exposing her slender neck. A few ringlets fell free.
She chose a balconette bra and matching thong. In school she was traumatised by the nickname "Tiny Tits"; it had taken years of validation for her to accept herself and that she was desirable. Even fully developed she was still barely a B cup, but also very pert. Support was strictly optional; the balconette primarily served as an elegant shelf upon which to display her breasts.
To complete the look, she added a tight semi-transparent lace blouse, skirt, stockings and heels. Paul watched her dress intently, and felt compelled to speak, "Becci, I love that little slutty lace top, but I think it looks incredibly sexy with tight, skinny blue jeans!"
With a naughty smile Becci looked into his eyes, pausing to make sure that she had his complete attention, then replied, "Taking them off might be a struggle... Don't you think?" Paul's cock instantly hardened! With a kiss and a gentle stroke of his swollen groin, she whispered, "Jesus, this is just too easy!"
Becci was already on edge just by choosing what to wear, and imagining what she might do. She felt a tingle in her groin and her nipples swell in the taxi. As they descended the stairs to the theatre she attracted a few admiring glances, even though she was much more modestly dressed than the previous night.
The first dancer was dressed as a kitten, prowling the seats and snuggling up to male patrons, purring as she stripped. She was followed by a gymnast who focused on single men, flipping over backwards to drape her legs over their shoulders, her pussy inches from their face. Both gave Becci only limited attention, but the audience were riled and best was to follow.
Paul rested his hand on Becci's leg as he watched the girls perform. Men seated around them furtively glanced in Becci's direction, watching as Paul slipped his hand under her skirt, gently caressing her inner thigh. The next dancer moved gracefully through the audience towards Becci's welcoming smile, and stripped to her heels in front of her.
This time Becci did not hesitate to declare her intentions. She caressed the girl's legs and bare buttocks, then leaned forward to kiss her belly. The young dancer simply smiled and stroked Becci's hair as if she was her lover. She looked at Paul, gaining a nod of approval, and then around the audience to make sure she had their complete attention.
The naked girl playfully stoked the nape of Becci's neck and the side of her breast, then took her hand to pull her to her feet. Without speaking word, she led her down to the stage.
All eyes were upon Becci. She was overwhelmed by fear and longing as she obediently followed the dancer. Her thoughts returned to how she had awoken in the early hours of the morning, imaging this happening. She had initially edged as she savoured her dream, then vigorously frigged herself off. She so wanted this! She wanted Paul to become so hard watching her perform, and for every man present to be deeply jealous of him. This was a strange but wonderful apology.
The dancer whispered, "Je suis Nicole," and began to caress Becci as they moved together to the music. She was a few inches taller than her with generous c-cups. Jealousy is such a human emotion, but in this moment it was matched with admiration and even a hint of desire.
Becci gently ran her fingertips down Nicole's neck, breasts, slim waist and hips, putting on a show for the audience. She had danced suggestively with some of her girlfriends in clubs before to entice boys, but that was just childish play compared to this! Nicole in turn slinked down Becci's body until her face was level with her groin, then ran her hands under and up her skirt, exposing her pale smooth skin above her stocking tops.
Nicole led her, teetering in her heels, to a chair centre stage. She slowly unbuttoned Becci's blouse, easing the delicate lace slowly off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She stroked Becci's neck and breasts again, then released the clasp of her bra and slipped the straps down her arms. Wolf-whistles from a pair of English tourists attracted a few disapproving looks, but Becci was delighted by their reaction.
Nicole pulled Becci's hands behind the chair, pushing her breasts forward, and wrapped her bra loosely around her wrists her n mock bondage. Becci felt her breasts tingle and swell, becoming a little fuller as they rose and fell with each breath. Her nipples were displayed, engorged and protruding, surrounded by her pale pink areolae. Nicole seductively cupped and gently squeezed Becci's pale mounds, then worked down her body and legs as she gazed into her eyes.
The audience were captivated in silent anticipation, suddenly heightened by the sound of the zip of her skirt being undone. It seemed so provocatively loud in the small theatre, and was instantly met with murmurs of approval. Becci imagined the cocks of the many men present responding and blushed.
Nicole theatrically opened Becci's skirt and tugged on her little lace thong. After more erotic play she freed Becci's wrists and invited her to stand. Slowly she slipped her skirt down her legs, returning to pull at her thong again.
Nicole looked longingly into Becci's eyes while sucking her finger, almost like she was half-child and half-slut, then turned to the audience for their support. Becci knew what she wanted, what everyone wanted, and her first instinct is always to please. She blushed again to a stream of compliments and lewd comments from the audience, "Vous êtes belle! ... Enlève ton string! ... Plus de peau! ... Take it off, take it of!... Se mettre à nu!"
Becci spotted a young man sitting to the side with his coat across his lap and his hand moving underneath; she imagined his hard cock weeping for her. She arched her back, pushing her bum out, and slowly pulled her thong over her buttocks. Keeping her legs straight, she placed her hands on the back of her upper thighs and lower bum cheeks, then gently eased them apart.
