Asian dancer dominated by a man

Recovering from my accident took a long time. It was frustrating because I’ve always made a point of keeping fit and here I was barely able to move. I spent many hours with the physiotherapist. She seemed to take an almost sadistic pleasure in making me find the re-use of my body. But eventually my sessions with her were over. She only had some parting advice to give me, namely that I should enroll in a dance or stretching class to continue to improve my flexibility. She gave me the name of a school and wrote a note of introduction to its head. The school was very close to my office. Maybe, I would be able to attend a class on my way home from work. I decided I stop by the school the next day.

But maybe I should introduce myself first. I’m a 28-year-old American man. At the time of my accident I was living by myself in Paris where I worked for an international bank. I had been sent to Paris soon after joining the bank a couple of years ago. I was very ambitious and worked long hours but still managed to learn some French and enjoy the city. I met many attractive women but so far had avoided any serious entanglements. Little did I know how soon that was going to change when I stopped by the dance school the next day.

The school was located in a 17th century building. There was a passageway that led to a central courtyard. Around the courtyard on three floors were various dance studios and there was quite a clash of competing music: Classical, Jazz, African, Funk…. The windows of the dance studios were steamy with the perspiration of the dancers so it was hard to make out what was going on, but as I stood in the middle of the courtyard and looked up and around I could see fleeting silhouettes of the dancers as they floated past the windows. In my dark business suit, standing in the middle of the courtyard, I felt a little out of place to say the least. Nevertheless, I made my way to what appeared to be the school office on the ground floor, opened the door and entered. An attractive middle-aged woman was behind the desk talking on the phone. She waved, signaling me to wait a moment. When she got off the hone, I handed her the note, which she read. She commented in a low voice to herself: “a bit unusual perhaps, but why not”. She surveyed me appraisingly and then said: “I think you’ll do fine in Ann’s class. It is on the third floor. Take the stairs on the other side of the courtyard. You’ll find Ann up there.”

When I reached the third floor, I saw there was just one door leading off the landing. It was half open, and I poked my head inside. The room was quite small and, judging from the hooks and the benches around the walls was obviously some kind of changing room. There was just one person in the room, a young Asian woman dressed in pink tights and a pink leotard. I immediately felt very ill at ease; on the one hand knowing I should beat a retreat from my intrusion and on the other hand feeling completing catatonic in the presence of this most beautiful young woman. I stammered incoherently that I was a sorry to disturb her, and felt myself going red in the face, but she interrupted me and asked me if I was looking for something. When I told her I was looking for Ann, she said: “I’m Ann. Can I help you?”. My embarrassment increased but I managed to say that I was to be enrolled in her class and explained the circumstances of my accident. “Well” she said “I don’t have any other men in my class but you are welcome to try it out. Do you have your outfit with you?” I explained that I had just stopped by on my way home from work and anyway I had no idea what I should wear. “My class begins in 15 minutes, if you want to join it I can lend you some things.” She looked pulled some things out of a bag which was next to her on one of the benches and handed me first what looked like some black tights and a long black cotton outfit. “Put the tights on underneath and the unitard on top.” I was torn between embarrassment and curiosity. When the physiotherapist had told me to enroll in a dance class, little did I Imagine that I would have to wear tights! My next source of embarrassment was that there was clearly only one changing room and Ann was busy working on some notes and preparing some music tapes and didn’t seem like she was going to leave anytime soon. “Do I change here?” I asked. “Yes, go right ahead. Don’t mind me.” I took off my shoes and socks, my suit and, n the interests of modesty left my shirt on as I struggled to pull on the tights. At this point Ann looked up and said: “you really need to take off your underwear, otherwise it will show and not look good”. Blushing again, I removed my underwear and sitting on the bench put on the tights. I soon realized that they instead of proper feet they had a kind of stirrup under the foot. To get the tights on properly I had to stand up and pull them up around my waist. There was something about they way they felt, gripping me in their tight embrace that would have felt incredibly arousing if it were not for my embarrassment in front of Ann. Quickly I pulled on the unitard, first the legs, then after taking off my shirt, pulling the top over my shoulders. The top was cut like a tank top, and glancing at myself in a mirror, I realized that it suited me very well. My strong shoulders and arms stood out nicely and the black length of the unitard accentuated my narrow stomach and well proportioned legs. There was of course a certain bulge between my legs but it was kept well contained by the combination of the tights and unitard. I regained some of my poise and confidence. And only just in time because some of the other students started coming into the changing room.

If any of the women and teenage girls were surprised to see a man in the changing room, they didn’t show it. They seemed to be either coming from school or from work and I soon realized that most of them already had their tights on under their jeans or skirts. Some even were already wearing leotards too. But some quite casually took off their tops and bras and standing momentarily only in their tights before pulling on leotards or unitards, seemed quite nonchalant about their nakedness. Of course this was France and if women seemed comfortable being topless on the beaches, why not in the changing room of a dance studio? Ann led us into the dance studio, which was just beyond the changing room. Mirrors were on three walls and windows along the fourth. Wooden bars ran along all four walls. Ann directed us to take positions along the walls and as she did so welcomed to the class: “We are pleased to have a new student with us today. He is recovering from an accident and is taking our class to improve his flexibility and regain his mobility.” And turning to me she said: “don’t worry if you can’t follow all the movements”. Slowly Ann warmed the class up doing exercises at the bare. I was soon struggling, especially when with one foot up on the bar we had to stretch forward and reach beyond our toes. Ann helped me with my position and gently pushed me forward with one hand on my back and one steadying my leg. I loved the feeling of her hands on my leg, the gentle pressure on my back, and the sweet smell of her breath as she whispered words of encouragement in my ear.

As the class progressed my mind wondered and I began daydreaming. As I watched Ann going from student to student I noticed how gracefully she moved and how perfectly shaped her body was. Her body was firm without being too thin and her leotard showed off the perfection of her breasts and rear. Her legs were long and I loved the way the seam of her tights disappeared under her leotard. I fantasized tracing that seam with my fingers. Her hair was jet black and long and her intelligent eyes were shaped like almonds. She had high check-bones. But her most attractive feature of all was a beautiful smile that was both serene and warm. Under any other circumstances I’m sure that I would be having a raging erection, especially as my tights felt so wonderful, but somehow I was too much in awe of Ann’s beauty to feel mere animal lust. When Ann dismissed the class at the end of the hour she asked me to stay behind.

In answer to her question, I told her that I wanted to continue her classes. She seemed happy with my answer and told me I should keep the tights and unitard for the next day. I could return them after I’d had a chance to buy some of my own. She also advised to do as the other students: I could take the unitard off but put my suit on over the tights. That would help keep my muscles warm on my way home and keep me from getting stiff. It felt really strange to be putting on a conservative business suit over the tights. I changed in the same room as everybody else, including Ann. She followed her own advice. She put on a pair of jeans over her pink tights. And a very sexy turtleneck sweater over her leotard. As I looked at her, I felt a strong, an overwhelming desire. When I got home, I took off all my clothes except the back tights and lying on my bed stroked myself as I fantasized about Ann.

Part 2

Ann continues the story

I didn’t realize that I was attracted to the good-looking American man until a few days later after he joined my class. It was the Thursday evening class and he didn’t show up. It was only then that I admitted to myself how much I had been looking forward to seeing him. But to understand my feelings you first need to know something about me.

I was born in Paris 21 years ago of Chinese parents who had moved to France from Vietnam before I was born. We lived in the area around the Place d’Italie that is home to many of Paris’ Southeast Asian residents. My parents put a great emphasis on education. I worked hard at school and was admitted to one of the top Lycees when I turned 12. At the Lycee, I also did well and was one of the top students but my circle of friends was limited. I was too studious and my parents, being very conservative, did not allow me to participate in the activities which would have made me a more popular girl, like smoking, hanging out at caf ‘s and sneaking into discos. My only extra-curricular activity was ballet. I took lessons every day after school and on Saturday too. I was naturally graceful and I had an attractive figure with long legs and well formed feet. I loved ballet because while dancing I could be whatever I imagined my self to be. My favorite fantasy was that I lived in a far-off time and was the beautiful princess who saved the kingdom by seducing the barbarian invaders by the beauty of my dance….

Even if not as popular as I would like to be, I was happy at the Lycee. Happy that is until I turned 16 and fell in love with one of the boys in the senior class. Rene was a couple of years older than me and was the leader of a group of boys who were the despair of their teachers and no doubt of their parents. They were the worst of students and had the worst reputations. But their parents were well connected and the school couldn’t very well throw them out. Rene always wore tight jeans and a leather jacket. He slicked his dark hair back and made a terrific noise as he roared his motorbike through the narrow streets of Paris. He exuded a strong sexuality, which was attractive to the girls at the Lycee, and more than one were reputed to have lost their virginity in bed with him. He was exactly the type of boy that my parents hated. He was the boy that I fell for.

For a long time, I loved Rene from a distance. I dreamt of him and ached for him day and night but in reality had hardly exchanged more than a couple of brief “bonjours” with him. Until one day as I was leaving my dance class and rushing to take the metro home I saw him sitting by himself at an outdoors table of the caf near the dance center. He saw me too, and for once I felt that he really looked at me, I mean, took me in. We exchanged some words and he asked me to join him for a drink. I had an “express” and he finished his beer. When he had paid, he pointed to his motorcycle and said: “hop on the back, I’ll give you a ride home”. I told him where I lived. He told me to hang on tight and we were off. I put my arms around him and rested one check against his back. I felt the vibration of the bike on the inside of my thighs and on my rear. I squeezed tighter with both arms and legs and enjoyed the feel of Rene’s leather jacket as I rested my check on it. We took a bridge to the Ile Saint Louis in the middle of the Seine, and again across the river to the Left Bank and the Latin Quarter. On my right I caught sight of Notre Dame Cathedral on the Ile de la Cite. The wind blew my streaming long black hair behind me. I felt my nipples grow erect from the cool wind or by their pressing against Rene’s back I’m not sure which. When we reached my street off the Place d’Italie, Rene parked his bike and walked me to the entrance of our building. Much to my embarrassment (because of my fear of being recognized by the Chinese residents who lived in the area), but also to my great pleasure, Rene titled my head back and gave me a long kiss on the lips. His tongue eased my lips open and one hand pinched first one then the other erect nipple that was straining against the fabric of my leotard. He pressed himself against me and I felt his erection. We kissed again, and then I broke from his embrace and rushed into our building.

Only my mother was at home, and I quickly made to my room to change. I just hoped that my flushed face had not made my mother suspicious. When I striped off my pink tights, I noticed that the cotton gusset was moist from my arousal. I drew a finger over the stickiness and tasted it with my tongue. I felt a certain satisfaction and pride in this sign of my emerging womanhood. That night I had vivid intense erotic dreams.

The next day at school Rene and I saw each other and we arranged to spend the next Saturday afternoon together. (I knew I could use as an excuse for my parents an extra rehearsal at the dance school.) Right after lunch on Saturday, I headed to the metro station but instead of taking it to Right Bank where my dance school was, I changed metros and ended up in the posh 7th arrondisment on the Left Bank. We met on the Rue St Dominque and, after a long deep kiss, Rene led me quickly by the hand into his family’s vast apartment with its view of the Champ de Mars and the Eiffel Tower. His family was out – in fact I was to find out that they were usually away on weekends at their country estate in Normandy. We had the place to ourselves. Rene showed me around and we ended up in his bedroom. We kissed again passionately. I lifted my arms over my head, and Rene eased off my sweater. He moved his hands to feel my breasts through my leotard. I closed my eyes and bit my lips to keep from moaning with pleasure. Rene kissed my eyes, my neck, my lips. One hand slid down to my jeans and unbuttoned them. I kicked off my shoes, as Rene pulled my jeans down over my hips. I stepped free of my jeans and Rene eased my leotard over my shoulders and I stepped free of it too. As usual I was not wearing a bra under my leotard, and as my breasts became free, Rene quickly covered them with his hands. I pressed myself against him and he moved a leg between mine. Again I felt his strong erection through his jeans. He pushed me gently onto my back on his bed and lifting my legs spread them apart. As I was not wearing panties under my pink ballet tights, he had a good view through the nylon gauze of my most private parts. I felt all his. He put his nose down there and sniffed me and gently rubbed his nose against the nylon and then started using his tongue to prod me gently. Without his having to ask, I raised my hips and pressed back with each prod of his tongue. He slid my tights off, and I was now totally naked before him. His tongue returned to its work and soon I was grasping and moaning under his ministrations. I reached out with one hand and grabbed his erection. He quickly took off all his clothes and I gasped in admiration of his proud manhood. He pulled my head towards it and told me to kiss it, tongue it and then take it in my mouth. Pushing me back onto my back, he eased himself into me. As my hymen ruptured, I felt a momentary pain and then with his thrusting into me, pleasure took over and was rewarded when I felt Rene flood me with his cum.

That afternoon we made love two more times, including one time when he brought be to orgasm with his tongue working my clitoris as I was sucking him. He shot his stuff into my mouth just after I came. The third time he took me from behind and as he pumped me he reached in front of me with one hand and put a finger over my clitoris. I rubbed my self against his finger and came again while once again he flooded me with his cum. Exhausted I lay back naked on the bed and we both slept for a while. When I woke, I found myself alone in Rene’s room. I found my pink tights and pulled them on. I stood up and was hunting around for the rest of my clothes, when there was a flash and I realized that Rene had snapped a picture of me. Shocked, I turned around and faced him and he quickly snapped another picture of me wearing nothing but tights. I giggled and threw myself into his arms. You may ask why I share all these intimate details with you. It is because I want you to understand how totally his I was. He could make me do anything for his pleasure, and indeed, mine. Little did I realize just then, just how far this could lead.

Part 3 Ann continues the story

The next two weeks were a frenzy of sexual craving and fulfillment. I was constantly being satisfied, but constantly craving more. Everyday after ballet, Rene picked me up on his motorbike. As he raced his motorbike to his apartment, I hugged him from behind, and would play games like reaching for him and fondling him until I could feel his hardness rise up and strain against his jeans. This would incite him to roar all that much faster through the narrow streets to his apartment.

Usually only the maid would be present. We would move directly to his room. I would do a little striptease for Rene as I shed my ballet outfit. Sometimes, Rene would shoot a few pictures using his digital camera. He told me he looked at them on his computer every morning before school and every night before sleeping. Once before I had time to strip off my tights, he slipped a hand inside them. I did a slow a plie. As I bent my knees, I opened up; and as I lowered myself onto Rene’s hand, a finger slipped inside me. Another time, I had leg warmers with me. After I had stripped, Rene helped me pull them onto my naked legs and as he adjusted them, he allowed the back of his hand to brush against my pussy. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his head to me and between my legs. My legs, in their woolen warmers, were like a vice that wouldn’t let go until he had satisfied me with his tongue. Only when I arched my back in my orgasm did I allow him up. As he kissed my mouth, I remember tasting my self on his lips and tongue.

On the first Saturday after we started our affair, I told my mother I’d be staying with one of my girlfriends overnight. In fact, I met Rene at a caf and from there we went to his apartment. After we had made love, I changed into a short black dress that I wore over black tights. I had bought the dress earlier that day from a small boutique near Les Halles with some money I had saved up. The dress was made out of a tight fitting Lycra material, so I did not need to wear a bra. But my breasts were beautifully held and shaped by the dress. I’m a naturally modest person but when I looked at myself in the mirror I couldn’t help but notice how attractive and sexy I looked. The dress only went about a third way down my thighs and my legs looked great in the black tights.

That evening we went out to dinner. Rene seemed pleased to show me off. We got a lot of stares from both men and women. It was the first time I had been taken to a restaurant by a boyfriend. It was an old Brasserie across the river between the Marais and the Bastille. After dinner we went to a crowded bar in the Marais. The bar was in the basement of an old building. There were a couple of rooms. In one of them was the bar itself, in the other there was music and people were dancing. It was so crowded and noisy. Rene and I squeezed into the room where people were dancing. Everybody was tightly packed together. It was a slow music. Rene put his arms around me and we danced in a tight embrace. I buried my face into his shoulder and held him around his waist. I felt him put both hands on my butt and draw me close to him. My parents would have been shocked to see me there with Rene, but I felt I was in heaven. There I was, 16 years old, taken out at night for the first time, by a man whom I thought I loved passionately, and who stimulated and satisfied such intense sexual feelings. We kissed as we danced and I could feel Rene’s manhood stirring just as I felt myself getting moist with anticipation.

All of a sudden, I became aware of a pair of eyes staring at me. Looking up, I saw a young man staring at us. Our eyes met and he smiled. He squeezed through the crowd and putting a hand on Rene’s shoulder said: “Salut, Rene, c’est qui ta copine?” Rene introduced us. His name was Marc. He was very good-looking in a male-model sort of way. He had a strong jaw line, a handsome face and a thin graceful body. Rene nodded at Marc’s raised eyebrow, and I found myself in his arms dancing to the slow music. I rested my head on Marc’s shoulder and as I glanced at Rene, he smiled his encouragement. I closed my eyes and took in the differences between Rene’s and Marc’s bodies. Rene was stronger, Marc more graceful. Marc was a little taller and with my arms around my hands rested on his butt. Keeping my eyes closed, I savored Marc’s smell. When I opened my eyes again, Rene was still there smiling. I closed my eyes again. Marc moved a leg between mine. I gasped when I felt his strong erection. My thoughts became very confused. There was Rene, the man I loved, smiling at me, while I danced with his friend in a close embrace and felt his friend’s unmistaken desire for me. I felt a little guilt, but even more I felt a certain pride and pleasure in being part of Rene’s world where handsome men wanted to dance with me and were obviously attracted to me.

It was past mid-night when we emerged from the bar. There were still plenty of people wandering the streets of the Marais. The stone of the buildings gave a soft warm feeling to the light that bounced off their surface from the lamps. I gave one arm to Rene and one to Marc. We walked to Marc’s apartment on the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois. It was in a 17th century Hotel de Ville. There were waxed hexagonal tiles on the floor and old oak beams supporting the ceiling. Rene and I settled onto a couch while Marc got us some drinks. Marc sat facing us. We talked for a while, but I was getting sleepy so I put my head on Rene’s lap and, kicking my shoes off, put my feet up on the couch. As I did so, Marc moved over to our couch and sat so my feet were on his lap.

I closed my eyes and listened to Marc and Rene talk. I didn’t pay attention to what they were saying but enjoyed listening to their voices. Marc began rubbing my feet and Rene stroked my face with one hand. His other hand rested on my shoulders. Marc lifted on of my feet and kissed it. He said to Rene: “her feet smell so good”. Putting my foot down, he began to massage my calves. Meanwhile, Rene leaned forward and kissed me slowly on the lips. As he did so, Marc moved his hands to my thighs. “Elle est superbe”, I heard him say, “quelles cuisses!” I opened my eyes. Rene smiled at me and asked: “tu aimes Marc?” I nodded yes and closed my eyes. When Marc touched the crotch of my tights, I was already moist. I was too aroused to feel embarrassed about not wearing panties. When Marc spread my legs, putting on leg over the back of the coach and the other on the floor, the lips of my pussy opened and were plastered against my moist tights. His fingers pressed against me and when he touched my clitoris I pushed up to meet him. “Elle est toute mouillee” he said to Rene. Rene meanwhile had both hands on my breasts and was feeling my nipples through my dress. They were nicely erect.

When at last we moved to Marc’s bedroom, Marc and Rene eased my dress over my shoulders, I stood before them in my black tights. Marc reached for my breasts and rolled my nipples between his thumb and fingers. Rene gently spanked my butt and then passed a hand between my legs and felt my moisture. At Rene’s urging, I helped Marc out of his clothes, while Rene took off his own. Marc’s manhood stood at full attention. I reached for it and when I saw Rene nod his head I took it my mouth. While I had Marc in my mouth, Rene lowered my tights and tongued me. Just as I felt myself reach orgasm, Rene took Marc’s place. While I sucked Rene, Marc inserted himself inside me from behind. Marc’s pumping soon had me on the verge of orgasm and as I came, Marc flooded me with his cum. Rene soon followed. As I felt him about to come, I stopped sucking him and put hands on his shaft. I could feel the cum emerge from his cock as it shot out and covered my face.

We collapsed on the bed and I slept between Marc and Rene. We slept for no more than an hour before I felt Marc stir and get hard and then Rene. When at last Sunday morning’s light came through the window we had made love three times.

Part 4 The American continues the story

When I got to know Ann better, she told me about Marc and Rene. To be honest I was shocked that such a pure, polite and beautiful 16 year old girl could become so enamored by a boy that she would let not only him but one of his friends make love to her. And I was even more shocked and angry when Ann told me the sequel to the events described above.

Ann had arranged to meet Rene at his apartment the following weekend. When she arrived, the maid met her and informed her that Rene had stepped out and was not yet back. No one was at home just now, but of course she was welcome to stay until Rene returned. After poking around the living room a little, Ann decided to wait in Rene’s room.

She noticed that Rene had left his computer on. The screen saver was active. She was curious to see what he had been working on. Expecting something to do with homework. Imagine her shock, as she touched the mouse, on seeing a picture of a nude woman. Her first reaction was of disbelief. But as she moved back and forth through various screens, she realized she was in a group site where members posted and shared pictures and stories of naked women. She soon got to a page with a list of messages. As she glanced down it, she was stunned to see that the title of one of the messages was “Ann La Chinoise”. Ann opened the message. It was written by Rene and had two pictures of her: one of her naked, it must of been that first time she was with Rene, and one of her sucking Marc. Rene must have taken it the preceding weekend.

Ann was so angry that she smashed the screen of the notebook computer with her fists and ran out of the apartment. As her anger subsided, she was overcome with shame. To think that photos of her nude were being circulated on the internet. And the worst of it was, she had no idea of whom might have seen them, or would be seeing them. And if someone were to pass them on to her family?

The following week, Ann did not have to feign sickness to avoid showing her face at school. She was truly made ill by the shock. When eventually she did venture back to school, she creped in at the last moment, avoided looking at anyone in the eye, and was one of the first to leave.

As for Rene, she severed all contact with him. The last she heard of him (and that was a couple of years after the events described above) was when a corruption scandal hit the newspapers involving his father. It turned out that their fancy apartment belonged to the city of Paris and was leant to them in return for financial favors. Like father, like son, she thought.

Ann slowly recovered. Her anger transformed into a grim determination not to ever again be at the mercy of a man. In any case, men had no attraction to her. She found herself working every woken hour either on her school work or on her an dance. When she finally graduated from the Lycee, it was at the top of her class. As for dance, Ann found the world of ballet to be an environment where she could forget all about the outside world and her sad adventure with men. Her sexuality, buried somewhere deep inside her, expressed itself through the physical exercise of dance. The dance center was essentially a feminine environment. Ann felt totally comfortable and secure in it.

Perhaps you wonder if Ann, renouncing men, might not have been attracted to some other women at her dance center. In fact, she was attracted to several of them, and one in particular. She was one of Ann’s teachers (I found out later she was the middle-aged woman who had met me the first time I went to the dance center). Her name was Valerie. Ann was one of Valerie’s very best students. There was a natural attraction between a teacher and a willing and able student. But the attraction went deeper. Valerie had all the poise and self-assurance that Ann, following her encounter with Rene, was desperately seeking. As for Valerie, she must have seen in Ann someone who was not only a beautiful, gifted student, but someone who was vulnerable and needed some protection. One day after a Saturday afternoon dance class, Valerie asked Ann if she would like to go to her club with her that day. Ann accepted with pleasure. After changing out of their dance clothes, they walked a few blocks from the dance center to one of the narrow, medieval streets which gives onto the Pompidou center. Valerie knocked on a non-descript door. A small shutter was opened and Valerie talked though it. As the door was opened, Valerie turned to Ann and explained that it was a private club for women who wanted to be totally pampered . It was very luxurious and expensive and Valerie was only able to afford to go for a special treat occasionally. Most of the club members were women executives who had the financial means to come more regularly.

Valerie explained they would start by soaking in a warm pool. They undressed and left their clothes with an attendant. Ann noticed that the attendants all wore thin white dresses and white fishnet tights. A number of other women were already in the pool. The water was warm, and soon Ann was relaxed with her eyes shut sitting on a ledge under the water and letting her head rest on the edge of the pool. As she rested her head, an attendant moved to place a folded towel under her head so she would be more comfortable. There was a very soothing background music. Ann almost dozed off to sleep when Valerie touched her and asked if she was ready for a massage. They got out of the pool and attendants passed them towels which they wrapped around their waists.

One of the attendants then led them to a private room where two long mats had been laid about two feet from each other on the floor. Long thick towels covered the mats. A small vase with flowers was a the head of each mat. There was also a bowl with a stick of incense burning in the corner. As Ann took in the quiet restful tranquility of the room, a half dozen attendants came into the room. Valerie told Ann she had to choose one for her massage. Ann was quick to choose one who looked Scandinavian with short-cropped blond hair and an attractive smile. Valerie then chose hers, an Oriental girl with high check-bones.

Ann’s attendant lead her to one of the mats, took her towel and helped her lie face down on the mat. Ann turned her head so she could see Valerie lying on her mat in the same way. She felt the Scandinavian girl’s hands on her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes to enjoy the massage. After her neck, shoulders and back, it was the turn for her feet and legs. It felt so good, after dancing in toe-shoes to have her feet massaged and the soreness in her legs attended to. She briefly opened her eyes and saw that Valerie was getting the same treatment from the Oriental girl. Valerie’s legs were slightly spread, and the girl was massaging her inner thighs. Ann spread her legs and her inner thighs were also massaged. As the Scandinavian’s hands got closer to her that special place between her legs, Ann realized that in this soothing comfortable environment she would not be shocked or upset if indeed that special place also got massaged, in fact she might even welcome it. As if sensing her thoughts, the Scandinavian attendant was gently brushing the side of her hands against her spot. After a while, when she sensed that Ann was comfortable with this attention, the Scandinavian used one her hands to knead the cheeks of her fanny and ever so gently the hole in between.

Ann heard Valerie move. She opened her eyes and saw that Valerie was now lying on her back. Ann decided to do the same. The Scandinavian attendant helped her roll over, and as she looked at Ann’s trim and well-toned body, she said “tu es belle”. Again she started with Ann’s shoulders and arms, but soon got to Ann’s breasts. She cupped them in her hands and with a couple of fingers gently pinched and rolled the nipples back and forth. Ann felt her nipples getting erect and let out a very soft moan of satisfaction. She glanced over at Valerie. Valerie was looking at her and returned her smile. The Oriental girl had taken off her white dress and fishnet tights was rubbing her whole body against Valerie’s. Ann glanced up her Scandinavian attendant who was continuing to massage her breasts and play with her nipples. The Scandinavian caught Ann’s glance and whispered “you want?” Ann nodded and kneeling next to Ann, the Scandinavian slipped out of her white dress. Under her dress she only had her on her white fishnet tights. Ann couldn’t help herself from reaching out and feeling them, by running her hand up and down one thigh. The Scandinavian sat next to Ann and drew her knees up to her chest and then spread them so that Ann had a perfect view of the fishnets covering the beautiful Scandinavian’s blond pussy. Ann had never seen anything quite some blatantly erotic and she gasped slightly. Sensing Ann’s hesitation but also her desire, the Scandinavian took Ann’s hand and drew it to her. Ann felt the warm and moisture of the Scandinavian as she pushed softly against her fishnet covered pussy. The Scandinavian allowed Ann to play with down there for a while. She then reached for a bottle of oil and, taking off her fishnets, covered herself with oil and began rubbing her whole body against Ann`s. Ann closed her eyes in pleasure as she felt the soft firmness of the Scandinavian`s breasts rub against her own. Their legs were soon intertwined and, instinctively, Ann bent a knee so that her leg could feel the inviting warmth of the Scandinavian’s spot. At the same time she felt the other’s leg move between hers, and soon the two young women were rubbing their moist spots against each other’s leg. They kissed and then the Scandinavian moved between Ann’s legs and began kissing and licking her down there. Her clitoris was standing out nicely erect and with the attention it was getting from the Scandinavian’s lips and tongue, Ann felt herself reach the edge of orgasm. But before going over the edge, she managed to move so that the Scandinavian was straddling her face so she could return the favor she was receiving. She spread the Scandinavian’s lips with her fingers and found the clitoris with her tongue. Soon the two young women had brought each other to edge of orgasm, and this time they went over it, first Ann, and then the Scandinavian, her duty to Ann accomplished.

Afterwards, Ann and Valerie lay on their sides looking at each other. They smiled contentedly like two cats. Their attendants had withdrawn from the room and the two women just rested and relaxed, enjoying each other’s company, the smell of the incense, the sight of the fresh-cut flowers and the tranquility of the room.

When Ann told me about her visit to the club, I asked her how she felt about it and if was the first time she had been intimate with another woman. It was her first time and she said that all along she felt very comfortable with what was happening. Maybe it was the presence of her trusted teacher Valerie or simply the fact that the whole idea of the club was to let the women customers be comfortable with themselves, with no pressure to do or be anything other than what they felt like at the club. The attendants were there to serve the women in whatever they wanted. They might indeed get physically intimate with the customers, but they always remained somewhat anonymous. They didn’t give their names, and customers were not given the chance to request a particular attendant, except among those available and offered at the time of their visit. Ann never saw the Scandinavian again, even though she did return to the club with Valerie a few times.

As for her relationship with Valerie, it seemed somehow best not to get physically intimate with each other. Obviously they were very close at an emotional and intellectual level. And they enjoyed each other’s company on their occasional visits to the club, but they both felt that a physical relationship would get in the way. Maybe if they weren’t seeing each other almost every day at the dance center, they could have enjoyed a physical relationship without upsetting their day-to-day relationship.

By the time I started taking Ann’s class at the dance center, she had of course graduated from her Lycee and was studying at the Sorbonne. Since one year she was also teaching a class every evening at the dance center to help pay her way. In some ways she had gotten over her relationship with Rene. She had discovered in her dance and in her occasional visits to the club with Valerie and outlet for her sexual urgings. As I was to discover, she kept her resolve never again to be dominated by a man.