Parisian Exhibition

This story is mostly true…

It was my lover’s 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 ways…

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 café and an art gallery (I’ve always found them to be very sensual places – maybe because everyone is already in observation mode… so they’re excellent places to make a little, er, exhibition of myself…). He might, or might not, follow me, and watch – 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 ‘outfit’ he’d 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 ‘follow me, fuck me’ boots, and has dared me to… but that’s 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 not…

It was mid afternoon – 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 square…

Even though my jacket was done up right to the neck, I still felt scarily – and deliciously – 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.

“Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart – how do you feel?”

“Amazing… and nervous. Where are you?”

“Nearby”.

I scanned the bar and the street outside, but couldn’t spot him.

“You bastard! Are you watching me?”

“Only some of the time.”

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 way…

“Anyway”, Lover continued, “will you do something for me?!

“Sure. Lover”, I replied, and noticed out of the corner of my eye that the man was glancing at me again… I felt a little mischievous, so added: “You know I love doing what I’m told” – and there was the glance again.

“My favourite sex slave!”, he laughed, and added, “OK, now I want you to just subtly catch someone’s eye. Preferably a man.”

“I already have darling”, I replied, half looking over at my voyeur…

“Great! Now, is he looking at you now?”

“Mm-hmmm.” (This is in my best throaty, drawn out, sensual voice.)

“Ok, so slowly, slowly, undo your top button.”

“O-K….”.

This was warming up nicely… I slipped my hand up to my neck, and as he said, slowly slipped the button open, and toyed idly with the scarf. The gesture, I was pleased to see, didn’t go unnoticed…

“Now say something provocative to me, and undo a second button.”

Warming up? Moistening up, more like… My lover knows me well enough to guess that this was making me distinctly horny – and my nerves were slowly vanishing behind a veil of sexiness creeping up me…

“…. Yeah, it’s warm today all right… kind of… sticky… really… no, my leather jacket… yeah, those boots… no, I thought of wearing that dress… no, the really flimsy cotton one. What? Yeah, it is pretty skimpy, isn’t it?! What? Oh there are about three buttons missing – it wouldn’t have been decent. What do you mean, ‘knowing me’?! You bad man…”

And as I said that, I glanced briefly over at my neighbour, and half raised my eyebrows at him… then turned away slightly, clicked off the phone, and very slowly and deliberately brought my hand up to my second button, looked into the middle distance with a half smile on my face, and unclasped it…absent-mindedly stroking my hand across my bare skin as I shifted the jacket’s lapels apart a little.

Nothing too obvious was on display, but my voyeur could see the very top of the curve of my right breast…..

Just to make my point, I asked for the bill, and then leaned down, directly opposite him, pretending to look in my bag for my purse. The angle meant I was pretty sure he’d realise that I wasn’t wearing anything on top under my jacket… if he looked closely enough. And I sure hoped he did…

Two buttons open, four done up… Hmmm… I was going to enjoy this afternoon…

(To be continued!)