Girls Love Paris Best

My name is Laurence Beale. I used to be known as Larry. I always thought of myself as a masculine guy -- I played football and baseball. I always thought of Laurence as a masculine name. I could of Larry Coombes, Larry Holmes, Larry Johnson. It never occurred to me that because of that name I could be mistaken for being a girl.

I had always been weak on math and science, so I had chosen options in high school that suited my strengths in arts and literature. I was interested in a sports scholarship, but I needed the good marks, in anything that I was half good at. I took on French and I enjoyed it, but I did have some problems with oral expression. In my final year and behind, aged 18, I was getting worried. So my parents arranged for me to apply for an exchange program with a family in France straight after the Christmas holiday for a minimum of three months. It would involve going to a French "Lycee" (for people my age) while I was in the country and learning the language "by immersion" -- a proven method for the spoken language.

The original idea was that I would swap with a guy from France, but Mom and Dad were going through some financial problems, so I was signed up with a French family who had volunteered. Dad had pulled out the previous exchange deal at short notice, so I had very little to go on -- only the names of the parents -- Richard and Madeleine Devaux. They lived in the heart of Paris. It sounded great. I could get my spoken French up to speed and with all the museums and galleries in Paris I could build on my art history material as well

I knew something was wrong almost straight away. I arrived in the concourse and Paris Orly and saw a pretty girl about my age, holding up a sign with my name on. But the moment she saw me her mouth just fell open. Then she started to laugh. The attractive and beautifully presented woman beside her began shaking her head and as I approached they were in animated conversation in French.

The girl broke off and smiled at me. She really was a babe, and the smile knocked me over.

"You are Laurence?" she almost giggled the question. When I nodded confusedly, she held out her hand "I am Delphine. This is my mother, Madame Madeleine Devaux."

I did my best to say "enchante" to both, but I could not hide my consternation. What was going on?

"Please excuse us", said Delphine, "we were not expecting a boy!"

As was explained to me in the car on the way to their inner-city apartment, Laurence is a girl's name in France. All of the papers they had received had given no indication that I was not a girl. From what I could gather Delphine and her mother agreed that I would stay for the weekend coming before they would decide what to do.

I met Delphine's father when I arrived at their luxurious apartment. He was a very successful dentist in Paris but (it surprised me) he spoke no English. Delphine's English was pretty good and her mother spoke a little. I had developed a good vocabulary from my studies but (at that time) I still found it hard to follow the conversation. It was clear that Richard, like his daughter was more amused than worried. Madeleine seemed more anxious, and so was I.

"Look," I explained to Delphine, "I really need to complete this time in France. My parents have spent money they don't have to get me here. And my grades on oral French are terrible and I need this. Why can't I go to school on Monday as planned?"

I am not sure that either of them followed all of that. But I learned quickly that there was a good reason why I could not. Yes, the school was expecting me for the next six weeks, but it was a school for girls only.

What a balls up! More animated conversation between Delphine and her parents in French. It was clear to me that Madeleine would face some embarrassment as she had arranged everything. The atmosphere was getting quite heated and Richard Devaux suggested that Delphine and I go for a walk.

Paris in January was much colder than I expected and I confess that being from Florida I was poorly prepared for the weather. Delphine went straight to the wardrobe in the room I was given and opened the door.

"This room is for my sister Paulette. She is at university in New York so this room is clear for you. She is larger size and one of her coats can fit you I think. Also try this hat. You must have a hat in this weather."

Then, when I was dressed she looked at me strangely. "Try her boots as well", she said.

The coat was dark and the hat like a big beanie but with a small soft brim, so no big deal. Even the scarf although brightly colored, was OK, but I baulked at girl's footwear.

"No no," said Delphine. "Outside today you will need something warm on your feet. The heel is small. This boot is like you say -- both sex?"

Unisex it was not, but strangely it was a perfect fit. It was a bit awkward walking down the stairs but on the Paris streets, I had no trouble. So, we walked around and she showed me the neighborhood -- the local bakery, grocery, newsstand, metro station. Delphine talked a lot, but she also spent some silent periods just watching me walk. She was clearly working on some plan.

Madeleine was in the hall when we got back. Before I even took off my coat she said that I could stay for a week, but as I could not go to the school that had enrolled me, I would have to go back to the US. But Delphine stopped her. She gave her parents the benefit of her own thoughts. I could not understand what she was saying. She kept point at me as I stood in my coat and boots. It was clear that her mother was initially dismissive but coming around. Did Delphine have a plan that would allow me to stay?

To convince her father of her plan she took my longish hair and pulled it forward around my cheeks. "Voila" she said. Richard Devaux nodded. Madeleine Devaux threw her hands in the air and almost screamed.

What was going on?

Seeing my dismay, Delphine explained: "Laurence, I have a strategy. If you would like to stay, then we can try this. It will be difficult for you, I think. But my parents agree that if you want it, it will work."

I had to stay. I would consider anything. I was in trouble if I could not fix my oral French. I knew that living in France for a few weeks would make all the difference.

"Come to my school on Monday," said Delphine, "but as Laurence, the girl from America!"

I protested: "I couldn't do that. I could never pretend to be a girl for 3 months. Nobody would believe it." Of course, I had to say that. What guy who valued his masculinity could say 'Sure, no problem. I can be a girl for a while'. The truth is that I just did not think I could get away with it.

"Laurence," said Delphine, "there are two important things to remember. First my mother and I can make you look like a girl. This I promise you. Second, to have you act like a girl is much more hard, but as all French people think that American girls act like cowboys [I think she meant tomboys] we can help you with this too."

"You must think this first," said Delphine's mother, in her awkward English.

Delphine followed me upstairs to my room. "If you go with the strategy do not unpack," she said. "Everything is here. Paulette will not care. Her size fits you perfectly. If you decide we can start tonight."

I was considered my position back home. I had an oral French test scheduled in April and my final exam before the end of school in June. This seemed the only way to give me a fighting chance of getting the marks. And I liked Delphine and her family, and her home. I thought the neighborhood was great. I wanted to stay.

The worst downside that I imagined is that I would be discovered. In a girls' school that would mean embarrassment but not physical injury. Perhaps it would also put me in trouble, but surely, I would simply be sent home. Of course, that was not the answer. I needed to do a good job with this disguise and eliminate that risk.

"If you can make me look like a girl, and help me act like one, I'll do it", I said.

Both Delphine and her mother were thrilled. They seemed to look forward to the challenge. It also seemed that they had been in discussion on the plan as they acted quickly and in concert.

"First you must have a bath and lose the hair from your body", said Delphine.

"Is that really necessary", I asked, "in the middle of winter I am hardly likely to bare my legs".

"It is necessary", explained Delphine. "If you are to be a girl you cannot have this hair on you, even if we cannot see it. We are decided that you are to be a girl from inside to outside. If you do like this, then nobody will guess you are really a boy. Believe us and do as we ask."

I suppose that I just decided to go with the flow and do as they asked. So I bathed and shaved my legs and arms. After I had dried myself they provided me with a ridiculously feminine pink silk robe to wear. I sat as they washed my hair in a basin and applied all kinds of perfumed conditioners and straightening solutions. My hair was light colored and had a natural curl. It was a little long, but when the curl was taken out it went all the way down to my shoulders.

Next they went to work on my eyebrows. This scared me a little, but Delphine simply said that if they did not grow back before I left she would simply shave them off and I would have to say it was a prank. They plucked away and applied creams and solutions to my face.

"France is the best for hair and skin treatment", said Madeleine. "All of the great names are from here in Paris." She showed me all the compounds in use and did her best to explain them to me in English.

They applied just a little makeup. Some mascara and a light lipstick. And Delphine put a barette in my hair and she spun me around to the mirror.

It was remarkable, and I could see the mouth on the young woman staring at me drop open. I looked so completely female that I could not believe it was me. It was as if they were playing some kind of trick on me. I was not only feminine I was beautiful. So beautiful that I suddenly realized an erection was tenting the robe. I tried to adjust the folds in what I was wearing, but Delphine's mother had already recognised it.

Madeleine sent Delphine away to find some clothes. She collected up some lingerie ushered me back into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and opened the robe. There was my erect penis. Maybe it was not an impressive sight but it was engorged almost to bursting. Madeleine smiled at me and stroked my smooth cheek.

"We must put this little boy to sleeping", she said. She dropped to her knees and licked the tip of my penis. It was as if I was dreaming. It simply could not be happening. I looked down at the top of her head. Her dark hair was swept up into a mass of curls on top, shiny and sweet smelling. She took my cock into her mouth and I wanted to take her head in my hands but I dared not touch it. I almost fell over backwards as her expert lips slid over my penis rhythmically. I put my hands in my own hair as I felt myself coming to orgasm. Then I saw in the mirror opposite the face of a young woman, hands in her hair, face flushed, on the edge of orgasm. I spurted, and my penis flopped out of her mouth.

"I think he will sleep now", said Madeleine, of my penis. "You could not wear these with that little one hard". She held up a pair of foundation panties and then helped me slide into them as I stood up and she remained on her knees. With my penis now shriveled back to normal size the panties showed a female groin. She stood up to help me put on the lacy bra and camisole.

"Thank you", was all I could think to say. Sure, I had jerked off, but I had never had a sexual encounter with a woman until that point.

"More of this for you later", she said, "but you must promise me two things: First - tell nobody. It is our secret. Second -- be a girl for me. If you are good at this I will keep the little one happy."

If I did not have a motivation before that moment to do whatever she asked, I did now. I had just experienced the best orgasm of my life courtesy of this marvelous, mature, beautiful, French woman. And now there was the promise of more of the same.

We stepped out of the bathroom with me in full ladies' underwear, and with the front of my panties almost flush. Drained of their contents my balls were tucked away and my penis pulled back by Madelaine's own tender hand.

I tried on several sets of clothes and paraded up and down the living room with Delphine and Madelaine making suggestions as to my walk and how I held my hands, or handbags, or a bundle of books, or an apple. It was made clear to me that the use of the hands, sitting, standing and walking, were the art of appearing as a woman. It occurred to me that I did not appear as a tomboy at all.

My voice was hardly deep, but I was encouraged to speak a little higher. Madelaine played some note on the piano to find the note that could work for me. She had me sing a French song standing beside her at the piano and reading the words. I had to stay on pitch. My voice was not soprano but would definitely mark me as a girl even talking over the phone.

After a huge day I went to bed in a silk nightie so that I could feel like a girl even as I slept. And curiously I did. I dreamt of the girl in the mirror as I orgasmed into Madeleine's mouth. I dreamt of her hair swept to one side with a barrette like I wore. I dreamt of her eyes and her panting lips. But she was me. I realized that this was not Madelaine - I was dreaming about the female me in the bathroom mirror.

On Sunday when I came down Mr Devaux was at the table taking coffee and a croissant. I had combed my hair and was wearing the robe over my nightie. He turned and then stood up, looking at me with amazement. He told me that I was very beautiful (tres belle) and he kissed me on both cheeks. I blushed. That was not something I could ever remember doing before, but I knew what it was.

It was agreed that after another morning session on the feminine arts, we would go out in the afternoon to test my disguise in public.

The morning session consisted of teaching me how and when to do my own hair and makeup. How to primp and retouch to be at my best at all times. We did more walking and talking and sitting and standing. After lunch we covered getting in and out of the car while Mr Devaux waited patiently in the driver's seat, smiling gently. I had been dressed in a winter skirt with tights and boots (with heels this time), and one of Paulette's very expensive jackets. Mr Devaux drove us all to the Bois de Boulogne and as the day was fine (but cool) we walked around for about an hour.

After only a little training in and around the apartment, I found it surprisingly easy to walk the paths and steps of this beautiful park. Every now and again Mr Devaux felt it necessary to take my hand or even to put an arm around my waist. He was very gallant and seemed to have no trouble in treating me entirely as a girl. Somehow that was important. He was not really in the plot as Madeleine and Delphine were, and he was clearly convinced.

He suggested that we stop at the restaurant by the lake for tea. He addressed us as "ladies" and seated us all ordering tea and pastries. Before the food arrived Madeleine suggested that we should "prepare" and she led Delphine and myself to the women's toilets. I had never been in a ladies' public toilet before. I sat down to pee, pulling down my tights and poking my penis out the side of its restraint to direct the stream straight down. We then all stood at the mirror to check ourselves before rejoining Mr Devaux. It was like being in a special club.

We took a long route home as I exercised my language skills talking about the day in French. My story was peppered with good natured interjections correcting my grammar or pronunciation. I began to see just how valuable this experience would be for me. Once again, I felt re-enforced in my decision to go along with this outrageous plan.

At the same time Madeleine had me speak the whole thing while exercising my voice in the higher octaves. In this way I found it natural it natural to speak in French in a higher voice -- so much so that I could never speak it any other way. I still spoke with Delphine mainly in English as, but in the same high tones.

That evening Delphine, Madeleine and myself pored through fashion magazines as I was introduced to the intricacies of couture. Madeleine was undoubtedly an expert, and Delphine her able student. They showed me some of their own wardrobes, and I learned about the fabrics and cut of the perfect outfit. They then showed me what was in Paulette's cupboard. Madeleine complained that in America she wore nothing but jeans and sweatshirts. In Paris, she explained, that would be totally unacceptable.

I had another strange dream that night. I dreamt that I was a catwalk model. I had long hair cascading in ringlets down my back as I strutted my stuff. As I came off the catwalk I was hugged by my fellow models, one with the face of Delphine and one with the face of Madeleine. I was stripped down naked for the next change and I looked at myself in the mirror, hair, make up, smallish but pert breasts, and then between my legs, topped with a small bush, a perfectly shaped pussy. I woke up with a start put was able to drift back into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, we dressed for school. The school had no uniform but did have a dress code that required skirts or dresses for girls. I wore a long-sleeved navy dress with dark tights and flat shoes, with the dark coat, hat and scarf. Madeleine drove us to school and took us to meet the principal Madame Nazaire, a rather severe but handsome woman aged in her fifties. Madeleine explained to her that I was still getting used to a dress as I had not worn one for many years "as was the American style" or words to that effect. She was preparing the teaching staff for any lapse in my feminine persona.

"Do you like to wear dresses?" asked Madame Nazaire in perfect English. "I wear trousers often, but I prefer a dress. I find a dress so liberating."

I answered in French that I liked wearing skirts and dresses. The strange thing was that that it seemed to me that I was speaking the truth. I knew exactly what she meant.

I found the class a little bewildering to start with. It took me a few weeks to begin to follow what was being taught, but once I did it was as if a door opened. French is quite a complicated language, with all those tenses and moods, but now I was really learning it. It was not like back home where a little bit of skill could be enough. Here I needed to understand, and that was coming.

Delphine's friends were all very welcoming. They were all keen to talk to me in English one on one, but when they talked among themselves it was in French, so I had to join in as best I could. The topic in morning, lunch and afternoon breaks, and any other gap in lessons, centered around boys. With the weekend over there was much discussion about who did what and who was the sexiest young man in town.

"What kind of boys do you like to go with?" one of them (I think it was Aurelie) asked me.

It had me thinking. What should I answer? What did I think? I was a girl and I did not want to be a lesbian, so what kind of man would I like. "I like boys who are good looking and strongly built, but who want to pay attention to me, and make life fun."

Delphine translated my answer for a couple of them, but they all agreed that this was a good man to look for. Aurelie said: "I think you need to meet my brother." I laughed, but then felt some worrying uncertainty. How could I relate to any boy?

Immersion is definitely the best way to learn a language. That was my focus. I have explained that I have always been weak in math, but math in French is a great French lesson. I know enough and it helps to learn how to think in a language. 54 is fifty four and also cinquante quatre. In France when you look at the digits you think - cinquante quatre.