This story is mostly trueâŠ
It was my loverâs idea to go to Paris. We had been there once before, back in 2000, but at that time we were just getting to know each other. This time would be different⊠over the years in between, I had become increasingly interested in exploring my sexuality, and, encouraged by my lover, at dressing in daring, even provocative waysâŠ
So⊠springtime in the city of lights, and we decided to play a game. My lover would pick out some clothes for me, and I would go for a stroll, stopping in a cafĂ© and an art gallery (Iâve always found them to be very sensual places â maybe because everyone is already in observation mode⊠so theyâre excellent places to make a little, er, exhibition of myselfâŠ). He might, or might not, follow me, and watch â but would not intervene unless things got out of hand.
OK, I thought. A little tame, perhaps, but OK. That was until I saw the âoutfitâ heâd selected⊠my lovely leather jacket, which comes down to just above my knees. A red silk scarf. My gorgeous Italian leather black boots, with just a touch of a heel. My lover charmingly refers to them as my âfollow me, fuck meâ boots, and has dared me to⊠but thatâs another story. And a pair of hold-up tights, which end at the top of my thighs.
And that was it. No knickers, no bra, not even the sliver of a thong. I would have to be careful how I sat down⊠Or notâŠ
It was mid afternoon â a lazy Thursday, soft sunshine glancing off the rooftops. We were staying just off the Place des Vosges, if you know Paris⊠so I strolled out along the streets, aiming for the squareâŠ
Even though my jacket was done up right to the neck, I still felt scarily â and deliciously â naked underneath. I could feel my nipples gently hardening against the roughness of the leather fabric, and could feel my hips brushing against it as I walked.
The jacket was long enough not to reveal anything as I strolled, but I must have been oozing sensuality, as several men half-smiled at me as I passed⊠Eventually I reached the cool colonnaded square, and strolled slowly across the flagstones, aiming for a café on the corner. Once inside its smoky sunlit bar, I took a table at the corner, ordered a coffee from a brusque, chubby, balding waiter, and amused myself by slowly crossing my legs, just to see how high the jacket would ride up on my thigh⊠It just brushed the top of my hold-ups, showing a little lacy band where they gave way to my bare skin. I felt scared, excited, trembling slightly with the thrill of it.
Then suddenly something in my inside pocket vibrated⊠the phone! Of course⊠I thought it was just the bulge of my purse in there, but Lover had slipped the mobile in too.
âHello?â
âHi sweetheart â how do you feel?â
âAmazing⊠and nervous. Where are you?â
âNearbyâ.
I scanned the bar and the street outside, but couldnât spot him.
âYou bastard! Are you watching me?â
âOnly some of the time.â
I laughed aloud, and a man a couple of tables away looked up at me. I smiled, half in apology, half in a slightly flirty wayâŠ
