The wedding party retired to the ballroom and I followed with them. I was not acquainted with the other guests, but soon I became friendly with a striking French woman seated to my left at dinner. Mid-thirties, refined, warm and engaging, she was by far the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and we were soon talking like old friends. Her glossy black mane was scraped back and gathered in a plait, her skin clear and faultless. She had the most amazing green eyes and cheekbones like razors. Her thin lips pouted as she listened to me, her gaze never faltering from my eyes. Beneath her black halterneck she had full, firm breasts, no brassiere, and limbs that were lithe and elegant. Her beauty upstaged that of the bride, and I felt flattered that she gave all her attention to me. She could have chosen anyone to be her partner for the night. Men were clamoring to make her acquaintance, and their women were envious. But she paid them no heed. It was my company she sought.
She told me her name was Marie-Therese. At night she worked as a dancer in gentleman's clubs around Paris, and by day she was an aspiring actress who studied her art at a school for such talents. Marie-Therese was also a painter, sculptor, and most of all, a lover. Throughout the meal and after at a secluded table in an alcove away from the main party, she astounded me with stories of love and affairs, of a life fully lived. Some were scandalous, taboo, others tender and divine. She loved women with the same passion as she loved her men. I was not shocked at the stories she told, only jealous that Marie-Therese had known so much passion in her life. I soon realized this woman was all that I was not, yet all that I wanted to be.
Throughout the night we talked and laughed, and I did not mind when later as the night wound down I felt her hand touch my thigh. It lingered there, soft and inviting, her fingers crawling light upon my skin. I was speechless yet pleading inside, my eyes locked to hers as her hand aroused my flesh. A whisper of a sigh floated from my lips, cherry red and open. Marie-Therese gauged my reaction, read the movements of my body. The light ripples of the flesh, the labored breathing, the dreamy, far away expression spoke more than words were able. As if drugged I remained unmoving as her hand stroked the high inside of my thigh, caressing my flesh and whispering to me in her native tongue that was sexy and arousing. My legs parted of there own accord. Beneath the table Marie-Therese touched my panties, pressing the fabric against my sex. I became wet instantly. The eroticism of that moment lingered and I shuddered then as a stray finger found my sensitive bud and rotated slowly against it. Marie-Therese leaned into me and softly kissed my neck as she worked me into ecstasy. I offered no resistance, for I was in heaven.
She continued to stroke my panties as people walked by unaware of the foreplay beneath the table. I took hold of her wrist and offered her fingers to my aching sex. Her hand slipped inside my panties, and I fought to control my passions as she teased my lips with tender caresses. I moaned again as the tip of a finger brushed my clit, then with a push entered my body. Marie-Therese slowly worked it in with leisurely circular movements of the wrist, as if she were pushing her finger into a ripe apricot. She slid in easy, and then her finger was inside me to the knuckle. I moaned loudly, not caring who heard, and my head fell against Marie-Therese's shoulder. My face became warm and flushed as she teased her finger within my sex. As she pleasured me the party continued around us but I was oblivious to everything. I wanted nothing more than to climax from Marie-Therese's caresses, and I rocked gently in my seat to communicate my desire. There became clarity in my anguished moans as I felt the stirrings of an orgasm, and Marie-Therese quickened her attentions. But just as I was about to come, just as I was going to explode with desire surrounded by hundreds of people there happened the worst thing that could have befell us. The lights went up.
The party was drawing to an end and so was my delight. Marie-Therese withdrew her hand from my panties and picked up her glass of wine, acting naturally as if nothing had occurred. Then she made an 'O' shape with her painted lips and sucked my moisture from her finger. I composed myself as best I could but I trembled as I took a sip from my wineglass. My throat was dry, my eyes glazed and dreamy. The redness of my cheeks would have revealed the truth of our liaison had anyone read my anguished features. Under the cruel light there was no awkwardness between Marie-Therese and I, but a sideways glanced revealed my desire to continue these pleasures elsewhere. Marie-Therese, experienced and sensual, already knew this and leaned into me again. She placed her mouth to my ear and whispered softly an invitation nobody could refuse. I nodded my consent, and accepted the offer to spend the night with her.
We left our table and hurried to the elevator that would take us to her room and to heaven. The ride was unbearable, as we were not alone. The tension between Marie-Therese and I was tangible. As the elevator ascended my heart beat wildly, and when Marie-Therese brushed my hand with hers my knees became weak and I blushed indiscreetly. A number in the group must have known our intentions, for they turned and looked at us in disgust. But neither of us cared. When the elevator stopped at our level, Marie-Therese and I pushed our way through to much indignation from the assembly and hurried to her door. She fumbled for the key and I could barely contain myself as my French goddess pushed open the door and we tumbled inside.
The moment the door was closed Marie-Therese was upon me. She pressed her lips to mine and we kissed passionately. I moaned softly, her body warm upon my own, and we staggered to her room kissing and tonguing all the while until at last we tumbled onto the bed. Our hands were everywhere as we rolled on the soft mattress and tore off our clothing, making our bodies naked and open for love. We caressed one another in those places women desire to be touched, ravaging thighs, breasts, buttocks, placing intimate kisses on stomachs, flanks and groins. We were hot and wanting of each other's passion, a writhing mass of naked flesh touching, caressing, and arousing. Tongues explored then where hands had been, every inch of flesh on our yielding bodies showered with kisses, our bodies ripe, glistening, I wet with a snail trail of saliva across my belly and thighs.
