The Secret Pt

Please start with Part 1 of this series. If you don't understand Part 1, some of this content may not make sense.

Some readers may ask how I can remember all these events. I was a lawyer in another life and learned to keep outstanding notes. When I became Andi, I kept a daily diary of what was happening in my life. Some of the dialogue may not be exact, but the gist of it is correct.

Fall 2004

Fall 2004

It was hard to believe that I had been in France a little over two months at the start of September. I am reminded of a quote from a John Steinbeck novel, "Once again the world was spinning in greased grooves." I love it when things are predictable. I had gotten into a very regular schedule.

Every other Monday, Misty and I got together until late Tuesday when Louis had to travel. I would go into the (fashion) house early Monday and finish my work by noon. Misty and I would explore Paris, including restaurants. We would go back to my apartment for a soak in my tub and retire to my bedroom for a night of pleasure and sleep. I would get up early on Tuesday and head to the fashion house. Sometimes working all day. If I had a client, I would meet with them in the afternoon.

Tuesday, I went to work as usual. Tuesday afternoon was for my clients. I could take care of three clients if I scheduled well.

Wednesday "tour and sex" with Susan. After our morning tours through Paris, and in the afternoon, we'd shed our clothes and soak together in my deep copper bathtub. From there, we'd end up in my bedroom, where the real fun began. Susan lost her reserved Southern upbringing and had become less inhibited. I knew when a woman tries something new and truly enjoys it, she's usually eager to push further. I knew I had to go slowly making sure Susan was not just enjoying it, but wanted the next step.

One of Susan's fantasies involved exhibitionism; she just wasn't sure how far she wanted to go. I started subtly, but always became more provocative. I'd seen a flicker in her eyes; it became clear she wanted to wear the same. So, we made a deal: if I wore it one week, she'd have to wear it the next. We began slowly, but then, one Wednesday, I showed up with a very short skirt, with nothing underneath. She told me she didn't know if she could do that next week. The next week she arrived for our tour in her own cute mini. As we were walking out of our building, she said, "I feel an odd combination of trepidation and arousal." I slipped a hand under her mini and sure enough she was going commando

Susan decided to show me the Paris Catacombs that week. We were the end of the tour group; falling a little back I saw my chance. My hand slid up her short skirt, feeling her wetness, I slid a finger inside her. She gasped, but the immediate shift of her hips told me she enjoyed the shock.

Across from the Catacombs was a café. As we sat at a small table, my eyes landed on a middle-aged man at a nearby table, staring at us. I leaned over; I whispered in Susan's ear, "Spread your legs just a little. Give that man a little show."

"I can't do that, Andi!" she whispered back, a nervous thrill in her voice.

"Sure you can," I said, poking her knee with mine under the table. "You know you want to, and it'll only turn both of us on."

"Okay," she breathed. "Now what?" I grabbed the side of her skirt and pulled it up a little.

"My god Andi, why did you do that?"

"I want to make sure he gets the full view."

"Look him squarely in the eye," I instructed, "give him a smile, and then look down at his crotch."

She did it. I watched as his eyes were fixed to her. "He's definitely looking at my legs," she murmured.

"Good, but I don't think he's interested in looking at your legs. Spread them just a little more," I urged.

"Wow," she whispered, "He is staring."

"Spread them bit wider, give him more than just legs. Make eye contact again. When you do, lick your lips like you're promising something he wants."

Susan kept her gaze locked on his, her tongue tracing her lips in a motion that promised more. Moments later, he was at our table, his face flushed, telling Susan how absolutely beautiful she was. Susan laughed covering her mouth with her hand. "I can't remember the last time a stranger told me I was beautiful!" she exclaimed, turning to me, her eyes sparkling. "Andi, I am so turned on right now."

"We're about forty-five minutes from home," I reminded her, knowing exactly what she meant.

"I don't think I can wait!" she practically pleaded, squirming slightly in her seat.

"Then why don't you head to the WC," I suggested, "And take care of yourself."

"You got me in this condition, I want you to help me," she insisted, her hand finding my thigh under the table, squeezing hard.

We paid the bill in a hurry and practically ran to the café's WC. We locked ourselves in a stall. In that tiny, public space, I pleasured Susan with my fingers, driving her to a shuddering orgasm. It was the situation, thrill of being caught, or nearly caught, that made it so incredibly intense. She was a true closet exhibitionist: shy in general, but ignited by publicly exposing herself. I was going to take advantage of this.

As we walked towards the subway, "You know," I said eagerly, "You could have easily picked up that man at the restaurant."

She laughed in a throaty sound. "And do what?"

"I'm sure he would have gladly fucked you right there in broad daylight," I teased. "And if you ever think you want to try that, I'd love to come along, to watch."

"I don't think so, Andi," she replied, though her voice had a tremor. "But your suggestion has already turned me on all over again." This became our secret game across different locations in Paris. Sometimes the thrill would even lead us to invite a man to join us at our table, with Susan always making the initial moves. It was clear, with every passing week, that she was getting closer and closer to inviting a man to join us for more than just talking.

Our little café game became more sophisticated, with Susan always taking the lead. She would look for outdoor tables for a lone man within clear line of sight. She loved the younger and less experienced. She'd find a fresh-faced college student or a nervous tourist, and very slowly cross her legs, flashing him. Susan knew seeing even a hint of her bare, smooth pussy under that short skirt was something they'd never witnessed outside a screen. Most were thrilled to be invited to our table.

Susan would then take the lead, concocting a story about who we were. Sometimes, we were a mother and her daughter on holiday, and the thrill of doing something we weren't supposed to do only stoked the fire. Other times, we became older and younger sisters, the rivalry adding an edge to our suggestive flirting as we sipped our wine. We'd been models sightseeing, lost tourists needing a local guide, or even art students seeking "inspiration" in the human form. All meant to hint that she was ready to completely let go.

Once, Susan even hinted that we were sex workers. The young man propositioned us right there in the bustling café. Susan's eyes widened, genuine shock mixed with arousal, and that was the precise moment to retire 'that' particular fantasy. The humor was in her boundary pushing limits, but not 'that' limit. It was clear that the thrill for her was public display of desire. But that, as they say, is a story for another time.

On Thursday, I worked at the house in the morning and for clients in the afternoon.

Friday was again a work morning at the house. I had a couple of clients in the afternoon. Every Friday afternoon, like a ritual, a new package of clothes would arrive before Juliette. It was a collection of tops, pants, and skirts. Danni and I shared the same top size, making the blouses and halters a common pleasure but the pants and skirts were mostly Danni's, designed to fit her smaller size. I had a slender waist and hips, but not as slender as Danni's.

Juliette, Danni, and Jean's mother would show up at 5:30 like clockwork. Juliette did most of the talking and I listened. I did ask if she was concerned about letting her 18-year-old daughter live with me. She felt Danni really wanted to be with me, and her daughter's happiness was important to her. Danni had two bodyguards assigned to her at all times. Danni's safety was assured. Juliette told me she had arranged for food to be catered to us at 8:00 PM every day except Friday. She had menus from some of the best restaurants in Paris. I had no idea this could be done. Juliette had also arranged for a cleaning and laundry service for us.

Juliette said, "You asked me how I could trust you with my daughter. You don't understand how important she is. I love her, but she is the future of our company. She will be the CEO someday, and I don't think the company could survive if Jean were CEO. When I found out you and Jean were hooking up, I had you vetted. When you and Danni became close at Cap d'Antibes, I arranged a second vetting. Danni is here because I felt safe with you."

"What did you find out about me?"

"You had a typical American mid-west upbringing. You went to a small high school. Your mom was your gymnastics coach. Your dad owns a swimming pool service and supply company. There are several things I find peculiar about you. You were at best an average student in high school. Somehow, you got into the local university, which has a good national reputation. When you get to college, you become a straight-A in a hard major. Another thing I found strange is your knowledge of the law. Misty told me she wouldn't have gotten into law school without you tutoring her. Another thing, you seem to have good mechanical skills. The owner of a garage actually said he would like to hire you. You seem to be very sexual from the moment you turned 18. You have a habit of taking lesbian lovers and having them turn bisexual."

"You also you fucked Misty's mother and father. And if that wasn't strange enough, you had Louis fuck Misty's mother, his future mother-in-law. Have I forgotten anything?"

"That's enough. I had no idea my life was an open book."

"Andi, you're not an open book. It cost a lot to get this information. "I realize you are very smart, industrious, and remarkably capable of handling yourself and others. That's why I trust you with Danni."

The real treat was when Juls would bring her little box of lingerie. All produced by one of the family's manufacturers, the contents were a mix: some pieces were very high-end, lace and silk meant for seduction; others were more casual; and then there were the truly trashy. I quickly started calling this weekly delivery our "sweet treats," each piece a delight. After just a few months, we'd amassed a collection of clothes and lingerie that would make even the most avid shopper envious.

I asked Juls if she wasn't concerned about encouraging Danni. She said something that literally floored me. "I know Danni's going to fuck somebody; she might as well look good doing it."

At 7:30, Jean would pick me up and take me to one of Paris's great restaurants. After dinner, we would come back to my apartment and fuck our brains out. Jean stayed over on Friday, and we would lounge around Saturday morning. I was a working gal and would have two or three clients in the afternoon. At night, Danni and I would watch TV. We would be on my large couch, many times naked, fondling each other. It almost always led to great sex for both of us.

Sunday was a day for sleeping in. Sunday afternoon was Charles' time. I was Charles' mistress and agreed to fuck him once a week. Charles had a big wand, but he was no magician. Susan was always present, and while Charles was penetrating me with his horse cock, I would go down on Susan. Susan would fake orgasm, but as time went on, she had become so orgasmic that she would let me bring her to completion. I don't think Charles could tell whether she was faking it or not.

Once school started, Danni wasn't at my apartment much during the week. She had about a 30-minute subway ride each way to her school. She was enrolled in the Institut d'administration des entreprises de Paris. Better known as the Sorbonne Business School. Many days, she left before I got up, and she got home after 6 every night. Danni told me she liked the subway ride because it gave her time to read or study. Her mother, Juliette, was right, Danni was a great student. At 18, she was being prepped to eventually take over the family's billion-dollar business.

Most nights, Danni and I slept together, even if Misty or Jean was there. I loved being in the middle of a human sandwich. Going to sleep with warm bodies on both sides is one of the most relaxing feelings.

Early in September, Charles told me I was going to walk the runway in their spring/summer fashion show for October 12th. He told me "the powers to be" wanted me in the show. Because of my odd shape (size 36 on top, 34 on bottom), he decided I would wear a three-piece outfit to match my size. I was going to model an off-white silk suit. The ensemble consists of a blazer, matching vest, and trousers. The house started fitting me. I was surprised by how much time they took, so it looked just right. Charles had the idea that this was a perfect ensemble for women of "different sizes". He wanted me to wear at least 5-inch heels on the runway and learn the "catwalk walk".

Susan had been a top model before she married Charles. She worked with me on Wednesday in our spare time between "tour and sex". She told me to pick the shoes I was going to wear and get comfortable walking in them. I wore the shoes most of the time when I was in the apartment. Susan told me to practice "the walk". The walk involved putting one foot in front of the other, creating a narrow line. This caused my hips to move in a rhythm. Once I learned "the walk," everything else got easy. Early on, I felt I would be ready for my catwalk debut.

Late in September, I was called to one of the private fitting rooms. As I entered, one of the most famous actresses in the world, totally nude, was in the room being fitted. I don't feel comfortable naming her, so I'll refer to her as the "Golden Girl". As soon as she saw me, she walked over to me, held out her hand, and asked, "Andi? I'm Golden Girl." She really was. She was taller than most men, had a very thin body with breasts at best a full A cup. Her hair was naturally curly. Her pubic area had thin red hair. She spoke only English with a very attractive accent.

I was shocked that she would tell me who she was. Everybody in the world knows her. I stammered, "Yes, you are. What can I do for you?"

She turned, "Everybody out, except Andi."

Once the door closed, she turned to me, "They tell me you're the 'cum whisperer'."

"I've heard that. Are you just asking, or do you want to find out if it's true?"

"The latter."

"Have you ever orgasmed?"

"Never, that's why I called for you."

"Will it be OK if I kiss parts of your body?'

"I'm good with that. I am ticklish. And my nipples are very sensitive, and not in a sexual way."

"Would you like me to use toys with you?"

"I'll try."

"Do you masturbate regularly?"

"I've tried several times, but I just ended up frustrated."

"When would you like to meet?"

We arranged to meet in her hotel room in two days. I remembered reading a paper by Betty Dodson, whose methods was successful with women who never orgasmed. Dodson's work found that shame was a major obstacle. Her approach involved having women examine their vaginas using a mirror; many women had never seen their anatomy. She used dildos and high-end vibrators to teach women how to achieve orgasm.

According to Dodson's female sexual pleasure centered on the clitoris. While pleasure within the vagina certainly can add to the overall sexual experience, she maintained that it alone would not lead to orgasm. This agrees with later research, which found around 20% of women report orgasming from penetration alone, it appears this is due to their clitoris being located very close to the vaginal opening, meaning clitoral stimulation is still the underlying mechanism.

I was getting ready for my "Golden Girl" appointment, when Danni asked, "Where are you headed?" she asked. I made up a story. I started to speak, but one look at her face told me she already knew. She'd already spotted my client's luggage tucked in the corner of the room.

"I know what's in the luggage, Andi," she stated.

"Oh, Really?" I responded taken aback.

"Found it in the back of your closet," she replied with pride. "So, why do you have all that sex stuff in there?"

"Danni," I replied, "I'd really rather not say, unless you insist."

"Oh, I insist, Andi," she chuckled, crossing her arms.

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "If I tell you, it could ruin our relationship."

Her eyebrows shot up, a flicker of genuine curiosity. "How's that?"

"Because if your mom finds out what I do with it," I explained, "She could have me reported and arrested.

She waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about my mom. I'll handle her."

Taking a deep breath, I laid it all out. "I'm a sex worker, Danni. And not just any sex worker. My clients are the famous, the beautiful, and the well-connected. Almost always, women who have never orgasmed."

"I knew it!" she practically shouted, her eyes wide. "I just knew you were a prostitute!"

"Danni, don't call me that," I corrected, my voice firm. "I prefer 'sex worker'."

Her expression shifted. "I'd love to do this from time to time, I'd enjoy the work and could use the money, she said, her eyes locked on me.

My chin almost hit the floor. "Danni, no, absolutely not. Your bodyguards follow you everywhere. Even if I considered it was a good idea, it can't be done. Why do you need any money? Do you have credit cards for anything you need?"

"I slip them all the time," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "We all understanding: if I slip them, none of us says anything to my mom. I need money to buy things I don't want my mother to know I'm buying."

"Okay, Danni," I'll think about it. But you realize there isn't any dick involved, right? Only women who can't orgasm?"

"So what?" her fascination growing. "You just make them cum?"

"Pretty much," I confirmed.

"Name somebody I would know who has hired you for your 'service'," she challenged.

"I would never do that, Danni," I replied firmly, my voice unwavering. "Discretion is very important to my business."

"Oh, come on, Andi," she pleaded, her voice full of wonder. "Just one. Maybe the most famous person?"

"Right now," I said, giving her a sharp look, "I'm getting ready to meet with maybe the most famous actress in the world. Read the local newspapers, and you can probably figure it out."

"Wow!" she breathed. "I need 'details' when you get home!"

"We'll see, Danni," I said, "We'll see."

When we were done talking, Danni ran into our spare bedroom, closing the behind her. The sounds that soon came through the walls told me she wasn't just 'masturbating'; this was a full-blown session, far longer and more intense than anything I'd heard from her before. She had several orgasms in there; our talk had clearly turned her on. I realized then that she wasn't going to stop asking to "help" me with my business until she got to "help" one of my clients.

Golden Girl was staying at the Four Seasons George V hotel. It was the best in Paris. The hotel was less than 250 meters from my apartment. Over the years, I have had a few high-end clients stay at this hotel, but rarely. As I rolled my suitcase filled with tools of the trade, I had a huge smile on my face when I went up to the front desk. I told the clerk I was there to see Golden Girl. I told them to tell her Andi was here. I was actually escorted to her suite. As I entered the suite, I realized this was the most spectacular hotel suite I had ever been in. Golden Girl was in the Eiffel Tower Suite. This suite is so exclusive; The Four Seasons doesn't even advertise the cost. If you have to ask about the cost, you can't afford it. As I walked into the room, the Eiffel Tower was in clear view. Golden Girl was wearing a thin, transparent robe tied at the waist, revealing nothing beneath. She led me to the bedroom and started to lie down.