Parisian Exhibition

After the fun in the cafés (see Parisian Exhibitions Parts 1 and 2), it was time to play a different game – a wilder, more wicked one…

It was a warm, almost hot afternoon, and lover and I had had our lunch in a little place off the rue St Antoine. Now he had a particularly juicy little game in mind… and I had a couple of glasses of full red wine in my blood, and a rather sexy little sundress on my body.

I still have this dress. It’s black, with little white flowers on, and – of course – little buttons, all the way down the front, from the low-ish scoop of its neck, to the hem half way down my thighs. Around the middle, I had a red cotton scarf, rolled up and tied at the side, making a nice sexy little belt – something to clip my mobile to, which was essential given my lack of pockets.

On my feet, little canvas pumps; beneath the sole of my right foot, a couple of 100 franc notes (this was a couple of years back, just before the entry of the blessed euro…).

Oh and boys, boys… for those of you obsessed by four inch heels, trust me: it’s no fun strolling sexily through the summertime streets if your feet are killing you.

Anyway, the whole shebang was all perfectly decent… if you want to be decent.

So… while my lover walked discreetly behind me, I headed north through the sexy city streets, till I came to rue St Denis. Those of you who know Paris will know that this street has a certain… reputation. One that is best represented today by the lines of sex shops, selling everything from DVDs and videos to those tacky little scraps of lingerie and dildos that are supposed to pass for sex aids.

Today, I was my own sex toy; my mobile the only prop I needed. I slowed as I reached the stretch with all the video stores, strolling as though in thought. I sat at a café table and ordered an espresso, sipping it slowly, and, almost absentmindedly, slipping open the top two and bottom buttons of my dress. I hadn’t really meant to do that, but the wine and the atmosphere of this horny little street was having its effect. As were the frequent looks of the two young Arab guys at the next table.

I looked down. The curve of my breasts was nicely on show… nothing indecent, mind, but already I must have had the air of a woman who enjoyed revealing a little of her… charms. Naturally, I was naked beneath the flimsy material of the dress.

After a while, with many a sideways glance, the two young Algerians left, and their place was quickly taken by a couple, about my age, the man rather boyish looking and quite cute in a 40-something way, the woman very pretty, dark hair, and lovely grey eyes. She also seemed to have dressed to please, in a mini-sarong skirt and an elegant lacy crop top.

They smiled at me, I smiled back, ordered another espresso, glanced through a copy of Liberation that someone had left on the next table...

The woman had crossed her legs, and her skirt slid up her lovely slim thigh (envious? Moi?!). I found myself doing the same, then, realising that the hem of my dress hadn’t risen as high as hers, reaching down and slipping open a second button. I realised just after I’d done so that this would free the dress rather more than I’d intended, but since I was feeling distinctly frisky by this stage, I decided to let it ride… literally. So after sitting with my legs more or less together for a while, I slowly crossed one over the other, facing away from the couple, so presenting them – and anyone else watching - with a thigh bared indecently, deliciously high… All while I pretended to be reading the paper…

I could feel them glancing at me, could imagine the waiter glancing down, his eyes widening as he caught sight of my skin… I wished I’d worn my dark glasses, so that I could spy on them, spying on me. As it was, I carried on reading, or rather running my gaze over the words without remotely taking them in, and once or twice allowing one hand to brush down across my thigh.

I was almost shivering with excitement, and actually rather relieved when they left, and I smiled at the waiter and asked for the bill, knowing that he was also enjoying the view down the front of my slightly gaping dress as I slipped him one of the notes from my shoe…

Then the phone rang… my lover, as expected.

His ‘instructions’ caused little tremors of pleasure to course through me. I knew what to expect… I was to go into one of the nearby sex shops, and browse thru the videos and DVDs, focusing on those with an exhibitionist theme… He’d checked a couple of shops out already, and knew two which were particularly well stocked in that area. He would be close in case of trouble, but not obviously with me… And I was clearly dressed for the occasion.

The first shop was larger than I expected – bigger on the inside than the outside, with three or four lines of shelves running down and across a big L-shaped room. There were perhaps seven or eight browsers there, all male, and one couple. I walked in slowly, trying to control my breathing, moving slowly along the shelves, getting a feel of the place, and of the way the titles were organised…

Those men who saw me glanced at me with slight double-takes, and one turned to watch me as I walked along the shelves… I was keenly aware of my nakedness under my dress, and of the open buttons. As yet they didn’t reveal much, but anyone looking closely might have thought I was dressed a little racily for a woman alone in such a place. I saw the exhibitionist section – titled ‘exhibitionisme et voyeurisme’ – at the far end, so wandered up there. No one else was in that section, so I had a moment’s pause to catch my breath, facing away from most of the shop, but still visible.

I started to examine some of the titles…aware as I did so how when I leaned forward, the dress would fall away from my breasts a little… The covers alone were a feast of erotic imagery… a woman in a restaurant, her open jacket revealing her naked breasts (that one was wittily entitled ‘Brasserie sans brassiere’!)… a girl who could be no more than 18, beautiful, with short dark hair, strolling through a park in a dress not unlike mine – but with tiny thin shoulder straps, and far more exposed - on the back cover she was sitting on a bench licking an ice cream, with a man old enough to be her father sat next to her, his arm draped round her bare shoulder, her dress unbuttoned far enough to see the curve of her breasts quite clearly… That was called Nicole s’amuse…

I looked down at my own dress, now seeming inappropriately modest compared to hers, looked across at the shop, and seeing no-one looking, undid a third button. That was better… My breasts were now clearly visible, albeit the nipples were still just covered…

I looked up. A man was walking slowly towards the shelves I was looking at. About 50, greying hair, not bad looking. And looking at me… I gave him a half smile, then turned back to the shelves. I picked out another video, and pretended to study it, having half turned to face him, leaning on the shelving. The video was called Marie s’expose…with the ‘s’ex’ picked out in big red letters. The cover showed a woman in just a coat and boots… the coat wide open, her full oval breasts and shaven cunt bared to the world, standing facing two men by some shelves in a corner of a shop… a sex shop.

I licked my dry lips, staring at the picture, turning the video over slowly to study the back cover, while all the while aware of the stranger gazing down at me. This could be very interesting…

TO BE CONTINUED! All feedback, suggestions for subtle ways of carrying on the story, offers of publication deals (!) etc very welcome. I’d love to hear from any women who’ve experimented like this, too.