A Moveable Feast

Her French was fluent although I thought I could detect a slight American accent. But I immediately forgot about that as she led me to my table because of her beauty and the way her hips moved under the silk dress as she walked in front of me to my table.

The meal was incredible. A synthesis of the best of French and American cuisine and I had already determined to give the restaurant rave reviews in the upcoming international travel section of the major US newspaper I represented when she approached my table and asked if she could sit down.

"You're Clarence Tabuc the American food critic," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Cherie Allouette," she added as she seated herself at my table with a mischievous smile.

I was totally taken off guard by the exchange. First of all I did not expect to be recognized outside of New York let alone the United States and secondly I was trying to figure out this woman's relationship to Armand Allouette the first French chef to manage a synthesis of French and American cooking to be recognized by both the French and Americans as one of the greatest chefs. Her English was fluent with a slight southern accent (Georgia or South Carolina or Tennessee?) she could not be a younger sister to the chef so she could only be his young wife I determined quickly.

"You must be Madame Alouette, but how did you recognize me?" I asked in puzzlement.

Once again the mischievous smile crossed her face as she licked her lips and told me, "I may be living in France now, but I am an American and was once a New Yorker and you, Mr. Tabuc, are no stranger to anyone seriously interested in the arts of the kitchen and food."

Just then a bottle of 1927 Vintage Port was brought to my (our?) table and presented to her. When she saw the look on my face she laughed and said, "I am no longer Madame Allouette. We divorced a year ago, but we are still friends and, after all, we have this child together," and she tilted her head in a Gallic manner to indicate the restaurant.

Before I could think of a response she pointed out one of the waitresses on the opposite side of the room and with twinkling eyes and a smile on her face at my discomfort said, "He left me for her."

Before even thinking I said in shock, "For her?" Because the woman she pointed out to me was not very attractive. And once again without thinking what I was saying I asked, "Why?"

Now Cherie was totally at ease at my unease and she laughed and said, "We had problems in the bedroom. He can satisfy her, but my husband, no matter how hard he tried, and my satisfaction was important to him, could not satisfy me sexually. We would come close, but as we say in the US close only counts in horseshoes," she said with a laugh. Then she shrugged and said, "So he began cheating on me and we separated and then divorced," as she raised her glass of Port and said, "Sante."

"Are you married?" she suddenly asked.

And I answered, "No, are you?"

"I just told you we divorced a year ago," she said.

"Yes, I know, but I cannot imagine a woman like you remaining single for very long; is there a man in your life?" I asked.

With that mischievous smile and twinkling eyes she answered, "Just you, just now," and raised her glass to me. Then after a few moments of uncomfortable silence (I had no idea what to say to that response because my desire for her was so palatable that I could feel the beginnings of an erection) she said to me, "Why don't we take this bottle of Port across the street to my apartment? I have a very good well aged imported cheese there that will go very well with it. Horror of horrors in France too, it is imported from a small farm I know in Wisconsin! And, if cheese and Port is not to your liking, I also have some wonderful chocolate handmade by some local nuns."

And then as she stood up and I followed her out the door she said, "Or we could just pour the Port over each other and lick it off one another," and laughed as I followed her across the street to her apartment.

That was how we first met. And it soon became apparent to me that we had the same problem. Cherie loved sex and she was without a doubt the hottest woman I had ever been with, but no matter how hard I tried or how close we got I could not make her cum. Cherie finally admitted to me that a man had never made her cum. That, although many of her previous lovers had gotten her very close, they always came before she could and usually she would 'take matters into her own hands later'. When I asked her if perhaps she liked women she just laughed and told me that she liked penises and the feeling of being penetrated and filled by them. And I knew from experience that that was so true and that she loved taking me orally, anally and vaginally; but still I could not get her to cum.

One day after an afternoon of hot sweaty completely exhausting monkey sex that left me totally sated while she still wanted more I said to her that perhaps she was more woman than any one man could satisfy and broached the subject of a threesome with another male. Cherie was immediately interested and her response was, "You would do that for me?"

My response was that I wanted to bring her pleasure and perhaps two men taking turns pleasuring her would be the answer.

She simply laughed at that and with a rueful laugh confessed that once she was properly turned on she thought it would take more than just two men taking turns pleasuring her.

A month later I had to fly to Paris on business and when I suggested Cherie accompany me she was quick to agree. What she did not know was that I had done some research and had arranged a special afternoon for her at a place called the Chateau de Lys in Montmartre.

That afternoon we had a light, but magnificent lunch prepared for us by Nicolas the chef at the Chateau de Lys and at its conclusion Nicolas himself emerged from the kitchen with a tureen of melted chocolate. When he dipped his index finger into the chocolate and brought it to his mouth he said to us, "Hot, but not too hot to be uncomfortable" and then he turned to Cherie and said, "Please dip your finger in and tell me if the temperature is agreeable to Madame."

Cherie looked at me with a quizzical smile and dipped her finger into the melted chocolate and brought it to her lips and tasted it and simply said, "Mmmm." And then Nicholas asked us to accompany him to the next room.

In the middle of the next room was a large cushioned platform at waist height with a basket of basting brushes on top of it. All through lunch Cherie had been aware of the covert, but admiring glances from the male patrons of the Chateau de Lys and now Nicolas handed her the basket of basting brushes and said, "Madame, you are the dessert this afternoon. You may decide among our patrons whom you would like to present a basting brush to."

Cherie turned to me and said, "I don't understand, what's going on here and what are these basting brushes for?"

"The brushes are in order to paint your nude body with the chocolate and whoever you present a brush to has that honor and also the bigger honor of licking the chocolate off of your naked body." I said with a mischievous grin on my face.

"And then..." she said.

"And then it is up to you." I answered.

Without another word passing between us Cherie took the basket of basting brushes and walked back into the play area behind the bar and I proudly watched as she handed four different men basting brushes.