The Perils of Mandy Ch. 02

"I will be close by at this table, mon cher," M. Duval said in a low voice. "Remember, they want to be seduced by you. Have presence, make your stance and movements bold, thrust out your magnificent chest, and let your voice be heard." He smiled broadly, as she was escorted up the few steps to the stage by the emcee, who introduced her over the booming speaker system as "a young woman of French heritage who has come home to perform for us - La sirène américaine, Mlle. Amanda Beaufort."

When the polite applause died down, she began with "What Am I To You," letting her voice carry through the mic in her hand as she strode with measured steps around the stage, chest out. Oddly, she was finding encouragement from M. Duval's directions. The spotlight half-blinded, preventing her from seeing the audience, and soon her nerves abated so it was like merely singing in the shower rather than to over a hundred people. At the conclusion of the piece, deafening applause shocked her out of the Zen-like state she had entered, and she had the composure to bow and acknowledge it.

The response was just as vivid following her next two numbers, during which she accompanied herself on the piano in renditions of Shoot the Moon and Wake Me Up. The acclaim may have been due in part to her rendition of some lyrics in French, although most were in English, which Europeans are often more literate in than Americans.

As the spotlight dimmed and footlights brightened following the last song, she acknowledged the appreciation of the audience and with the emcee's assistance made her way down to the floor, where M. Duval, beaming as broadly as ever, hugged her and pecked vigorously on both her cheeks, four la bises this time. Out of the spotlight, she was amazed to see that many in the audience were on their feet as they applauded - giving her a standing ovation?

"Come mon cher," he said. "I wish the honor to escort you into the club."

She followed Julie's example and turned around to bow to the crowd once more before following Monsieur through the door.

The interior was darker, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Club decor seemed a continuation of the reds and blacks of the cabaret. M. Duval guided her to the bar, a circular one in the center of the room, and introduced her to the bartender, who presented them with a bottle of champagne, telling Mandy he enjoyed her performance as he gestured toward one of several large flatscreen monitors that had a view of the cabaret stage. M. Duval guided her to a nearby booth, where he filled their glasses and toasted "the beginning of an illustrious career for la belle Amanda."

The pitch followed. He said she had exceeded his already high expectations, and he was confident she would be offered half-hour spots two nights a week, for €150 each night, a sum that "could increase significantly as you gain renown." In addition, on the nights she performed she would have all the benefits of a club member, and even more, as cuisine and drinks would be complimentary for her if she chose to mix in the club. Another reward would be "social interaction with people of interest and passion."

As Mandy's eyes adjusted to the low light, she noticed people moving back and forth from the bar area and a door to the rear. There must be another band back there, she thought, as she could hear music and crowd noise. People were laughing and their body language showed familiarity, many with arms linked or entwined around one another. M. Duval called out to a few couples approaching the bar, who acknowledged him with waves and salutations.

"One finds the clientele here extremely amiable," he remarked.

Mandy found herself thirsty from the demands of performing and downed a couple glasses of the champagne faster than she usually would, M. Duval matching her pace. When the bottle was gone he asked if she would like to look around, and she nodded affirmatively. They rose, and he procured a couple of cocktails, then offered his arm. They went through the door to the next room where the music was coming from.

It was better lighted, large, with many tables and another dance floor and stage, where a band was in action. They shared a table with another couple who M. Duval knew, and after introductions and some polite conversation he asked Mandy, "May I have the honor of this dance?" She allowed him to guide her around the floor. He was a good dancer, she reflected, and they moved easily together. At the conclusion of the number, they socialized with the other couple while finishing their drinks, and when the glasses were empty Monsieur went back to the bar to refill them.

The other couple was animated and friendly, although Mandy felt they showed more familiarity than she was used to with new people, probing for her background and interests, and asking if she had previously visited a club. He was an accountant, she had something to do with fashion. From the conversation, she gathered they were married - to other people, who were somewhere else on the premises. As they conversed, the man said, "Red suits you mademoiselle," his eyes fixed on Mandy's chest. She was tempted to reply with the jocular statement, "My eyes are up here." After the second round of cocktails, M. Duval asked if she would like to "see more of our surroundings." She nodded, and as she rose thought the men exchanged a wry glance. The accountant raised his glass in a toast.

M. Duval led her through another door into a sort of lounge with overstuffed sofas and chairs, where the atmosphere became decidedly less formal. People were moving about, flirting and joking, some engaged in passionate embraces as their hands roved over one another. Men's jackets were off, as were women's shoes. Shirts and blouses were loosely buttoned or open, hair mussed. One man had his hand on his companion's breast. It was looking more like Philippe described, Mandy thought.

She became conscious that M. Duval was watching her closely. Looking for a reaction?

"This is an area people frequent as they learn to release their inhibitions," he said. "You will notice there are accommodations surrounding us for those ready to further their acquaintance," he added, with a sweeping arm gesture pointing out a series of doors along three walls of the lounge. He guided Mandy toward one of the doors, and they were almost run over by another couple hurrying for it. The man twisted the knob, and the couple entered, followed immediately by exclamations and laughter. The couple exited, laughing and saying, "Nous pardonner. Excusez-nous," and immediately headed for an adjacent door, entered, and closed it, the click of a lock sounding.

"Let me point out a minor indiscretion," M. Duval said, chortling. "There are people inside, but the occupants neglected to secure the room." He pointed out a tiny green-colored square on the door, which as he spoke changed to a red color with a click of its lock. The adjacent door also had a red square. "Such color indicates a room is in utilization, privacy desired," he explained. "Let us see if we can find a room not in use to show to you." The next door down had a green window, and he opened it, saying, "After you."

The room was not large but held a king-sized bed with a scarlet bedspread, a dresser, and a small table with an old-fashioned desk telephone on it. Several prints hung on the walls. Mandy recognized one from her tour of the Louvre with Philippe - "The Rape of the Sabine Women." Other prints had medieval views of satyrs embracing nymphs and one from the Kama Sutra depicted an orgy, people copulating in various positions. A small bathroom with shower had shelves holding freshly laundered robes.

As she looked around, she heard the door behind her close and lock. A red flag was undoubtedly showing on the door's exterior, at the same time it flashed in Mandy's mind. She looked around to see M. Duval looking at her with an intense expression as well as his usual wide smile. He's almost licking his chops, she thought.

"Monsieur, I entered this room with nothing in mind except curiosity," she said firmly. "Please open the door."

It was as if she was naked the way his eyes were consuming her. She thought about Philippe's advice to practice her kick. Perhaps Duval read that on her face because his expression relaxed and he resumed his sweet-tongue narrative style.

"My apologies if I presume, Amanda, but you are so beautiful, and I am sure you are no stranger to the joys of the flesh - your singing just oozes luxure. We have been enjoying ourselves tonight, and this is a place of passion, which cannot have escaped you. How could a passionate man not react to you? He certainly would not expect you to show reticence toward an admirer who has provided services to help you."

"I told you in your office, Monsieur, I respect your knowledge and value your goodwill as it relates to my education and development as a musician. But perhaps I should have been more clear that I want to keep my personal life separate from my life as a student or as a performing artist, should that occur. And a big part of my personal life is a boyfriend back home."

"Who is, as you say, 'back home,' whereas I am here. And while a boy is naturally more attractive to a young woman, an older man can combine experience and technique with passion and satisfy a woman session extraordinaire. In life's journey, I have had a somewhat longer experience than you, dear Amanda, and have found that it is to one's advantage not to set formal boundaries between affairs of the heart and other passionate and valuable life experiences. One should relax and be open to the benefits of new opportunities."

As Duval talked, he was moving toward her slowly, smile in place, until he stood at arm's length. "A woman such as you can find many boys without even trying, and I am confident that you have, but you should experience an older man, for your benefit as well as the man's." He gestured to the phone on the table. "Allow me to order another bottle of champagne for us. You could slip out of that tight dress, don a robe and stretch out on the bed. We could become comfortable, converse, and get to know one another better. Then, perhaps your inhibitions will relax and you will allow me to provide more services I guarantee you will relish."

She picked up the receiver. "Open the door now, Monsieur, or I will use this phone not to order champagne but to call for assistance."

A momentary flash of anger crossed Duval's face, displacing the big smile. But his features quickly relaxed. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders as if giving up trying to argue with a stubborn child. "As you wish, mademoiselle." He retreated a few steps and opened the door. "Shall we continue our tour? Perhaps some of the visuals will arouse you more than I am able to at present."

As they exited the room, a gray-haired man and blonde only slightly older than Mandy were standing nearby. "Ah, you are leaving?" the man asked in French. "It is congested tonight. This appears to be the only single room available. We were invited to join another couple, but this lady is shy and does not want to share a bed. Is your room fairly suitable for renewed occupancy?"

"Oui, monsieur," answered M. Duval. "Pristine, the sheets not even disturbed, the robes freshly laundered. And may I compliment you on your lovely companion." The young woman giggled and acknowledged the adulation by smiling at Monsieur, index finger pressed to open lips and white teeth, eyes sultry and fixed on her new admirer, gestures so staged that Mandy almost laughed. The couple entered, the lock clicked and the flag on the door changed from green to red.

M. Duval smiled, his ego and spirits restored by the look he received from the young woman now getting a tour of the room. He resumed the role of guide, directing Mandy through the common area with people on the make, and down a hallway on the other side. It led to another large space, also well-populated.

"This is for echangistes, he said. "People dedicated to passionate exploration and diversity of fantasies."

Mandy gasped. In the center was a large circular couch, surrounded by mattresses lying on the floor, upon which were perhaps two dozen naked people in luxure, some stimulating partners with their mouths and hands, others copulating in various positions.

There was one involved scene: A man was fucking a woman doggy style, while another man kneeled in front of the woman, his erect dick in her mouth; a second woman lay on her back, apparently applying oral stimulus to the other woman's clitoris and the man's dick as they fucked, while her own pussy was being orally massaged by a third woman bending over her; that woman, in turn, being doggy-fucked by another man.

Two women lay on their backs, side by side, one kissing and caressing the other's boobs, their legs raised high, calves resting on the shoulders of two kneeling men who were fucking them. Close to where Mandy and M. Duval stood, a man and woman were lying on their backs, holding hands, the man's condom-clad penis showing white fluid at the tip.

There were large mirrors fastened to the ceiling and walls to allow revelers several different perspectives of themselves and their neighbors in action. As Mandy looked up, observing the reflection of the two couples fucking side by side, one of the men stopped thrusting and shouted something to the other. The two of them withdrew their shiny hard cocks and changed places. She watched the men insert their dicks into their new partners and resume fucking, one of the women acknowledging the switch by squealing as she was re-entered by a different cock.

Looking at their own reflection in a mirror, Mandy noticed M. Duval was watching her, probably trying to discern her reaction. She had been startled at first but was not shocked. A year of college and surfing of sister Samantha's porn videos had inured her to such scenes.

And she was not a stranger to group sex, she thought, remembering the night in John's bed when sister Sam and her boyfriend Daryl barged into the room and started making it in Daryl's bed even as she and John continued without missing a beat; and the morning she sucked off John as Daryl watched, massaging himself beneath the sheets. However, there were no swinger swaps involved in those incidents, and they were also exceptions to her usual love life. She still preferred privacy for her intimacies. This was by far the most people she had ever witnessed having sex in one location. Maybe even more than Sam had. It was not her thing. However, she had been away from John for two weeks - long enough that this orgy scene evoked slight titillation between her legs.

"You are not surprised or offended, I think," M. Duval said. "Perhaps a little stimulated? There are lockers against the wall where we could disrobe and store our garments," he added, leering. She gave him credit for persistence if nothing else.

"This must certainly be the culmination of the tour, Monsieur," she said. "Why don't we visit the bar again?"

"As you wish," he sighed. At the bar, he acknowledged acquaintances in one of the booths, a couple in their mid-40s perhaps. Monsieur introduced Mandy as "one of my promising young people, although a little shy this evening." The man, Henri, said they had been in the cabaret when she performed, and he had considered her "most evocative." After some small talk, the woman, Angelique, pouted and proclaimed that Henri was ignoring her, inviting M. Duval to escort her to the dance floor "and restore my faith in mankind."

"Would my lady excuse me?" Duval asked Mandy, then rose and held his arm out for Angelique, who smiled back at him as they walked briskly away.

Henri turned out to be an avid conversationalist. He was a businessman, something to do with importing, and Angelique was a teacher, he said. They had been visiting the club at least once a week for the past year, following Angelique's discovery that he had been having an affair with one of his secretaries and her subsequent retaliation with the young concierge of their apartment building. Despite mutual hurt feelings, once the screaming died down they decided their marriage was worth saving but needed variété dans la vie d'amour.

They had met M. Duval in the club several months ago, Henri said, and Angelique considered him suave and attractive. Henri shrugged in a manner that made it clear he did not share the opinion, but in "compensation" he had "enjoyed the company" of one or two of Monsieur's talented students, "although none as ravishing as the lady he brings tonight." Mandy acknowledged the compliment by saluting him with her glass. "But I have talked enough. Tell me some things about yourself," Henri said.

"I'm just an American student on a short fellowship, here tonight at M. Duval's invitation to explore employment as an entertainer," Mandy replied. "Also, to satisfy my curiosity about another lifestyle," she admitted. "I had heard some things about the club libertins, and wanted to see one for myself."

"Monsieur was here during the week with another of his aspiring student entertainers, who I believe explored the club with him at length," Henri commented. "You, however, judging by the short time elapsed since your excellent performance, either did not get the full tour or did not languish long with Monsieur."

Mandy smiled. "No, it was a whirlwind tour, to M. Duval's disappointment, I believe"

"What is your impression of the club, and has it piqued your interest in further exploring the amenities?" Henri asked.

"I find it interesting, although I don't think it's for me."

"In case the problem was with your guide, I would consider it a privilege to escort you to the dance floor or the adjacent lounge, where we could continue our conversation and become better acquainted," Henri said. "No pressure," he added, putting his hands in the air, and smiling.

She liked him. Henri too had sex on the brain but was less driven, more humorous, and less condescending than M. Duval. His speech was more ironic. He had some appreciation for the art of seduction. If she had the desire, she would occupy a club room with him before she would with her "patron."

"Henri, you are charming, but I have a boyfriend back in the U.S."

"Ah, that does not surprise me. Where have all the young girls gone? Gone to young men, every one. When will they ever learn?" He shook his head in mock discouragement.

She laughed at his quoting of the old American folk song lyrics. "Henri, if the offer still stands, I would enjoy a dance - only a dance - with you." She added, "No pressure, however."

It was his turn to laugh. He got up and held out his arm, and they went through the door to the inner lounge and dance floor. Henri was not as smooth a dancer as Duval, but she enjoyed her time with him more. When the band took a break she asked him if he saw their missing partners.

"I would imagine they are enjoying one of the rooms," Henri said. "We could do likewise, but for the spectral presence of the fortunate young man in America."

She smiled. "It doesn't bother you to think about Angelique with M. Duval?

He shrugged. "It is the life we have chosen. If it bothers me, it is only because I do not understand what she sees in him. But we are all different. Would you like me to escort you to the lounges in the back? I doubt if we would find them there, but we could look. Only a look."

"No pressure," they both said together, and laughed.

"Maybe a quick look," she added. An orgy was still in progress in the hall of mirrors, with several new participants replacing the exhausted and fulfilled ones, but the search for the missing was indeed fruitless.