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Emilie Lagarde caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and liked what she saw. Dark-haired, slender, she was a classic example of Parisian chic- and devilishly sexy with it. Nineteen years old, she had just finished her first year at the Sorbonne, studying law more for the cachet of the degree than as a career prospect- for she knew she could rely on her wealthy industrialist father to keep paying his only child’s way indefinitely. The guarantee of future inherited wealth meant that Emilie was free to spend her spare time living a life of luxury. Which was just as well, considering her expensive love of shopping, and devotion to pleasure seeking in all its forms. Her teenage years had been spent at a string of the finest private schools money could buy, and she had taken full advantage of the education on offer. The other characteristic of her adolescence had been sexual experimentation, with either, an activity that Emilie had had no intention of relinquishing once she was at university. Though the days of the French aristocracy were long gone, the wealthy young heiress was perhaps as close as one could get to a modern day equivalent.
Her elegantly decorated flat was dimly lit, as Emilie soaked indulgently in the bath. She was looking forward to the evening ahead of her, a night out with her friend and occasional lover Marie was always enjoyable, and she was very much in the mood for going home with company. Reluctantly stepping out of the bath, she wrapped herself in a soft white towel, and walked through to her kitchen, ideas for possible outfits turning over in her mind. Pouring herself a glass of a slightly chilled Sancerre, Emilie leant against the kitchen counter and sipped contently. Marie wasn’t expecting her to leave for another hour and a half, plenty of time for the appropriate preening to be done.
Walking back to her bedroom, she sat at her dressing table and applied subtle make-up, enough to accentuate her melting brown eyes, without losing the artful innocence that her coltish figure lent her. A few minutes attention to her lustrous chestnut brown hair and Emilie was ready to move to the far more important task of selecting her underwear. Poring through her capacious lingerie drawers, Emilie settled on a simple but classic lacy black bra with a matching thong. On a whim, she also picked out a pair of dark hold-up stockings, which she pulled carefully up her smooth, tanned legs. Stepping into the panties, she settle them about her hips, and turned to the full length mirror, smiling slightly as she saw the saucy young lady pouting back istanbul escort at her. Next she put on the soft brassiere, settling her pert little breasts into the cups, and ensuring the straps were smooth against her elegant shoulders. Satisfied with her choice of lingerie, Emilie proceeded to her walk-in closet to examine her dresses.
Leafing through the rail of expensive designer apparel, Emilie’s eye was drawn to an old favourite of hers, a sleek silk mini-dress that would cling in all the right places, and show off her long legs to their fullest advantage. Scooping up a pair of elegantly understated heels to go with it, Emilie strutted back into her bedroom and slipped into the dress, carefully smoothing the material over her hips. She eased on her shoes, fastened them, then stood to admire the effect in the mirror. Emilie frowned slightly, sensing something missing. Opening the ornately carved wooden box on top her dressing table, she extracted a thin gold necklace, nothing too showy- just the final touch to set off the line of her swan-like neck.
Happy with her outfit, Emilie drained her glass of wine, and picked up her bag, extracting her mobile phone and calling a taxi. In between her call and its arrival, there was ample time for Emilie to enjoy another glass of wine; it was a slightly tipsy young lady who locked the door to her flat and sashayed downstairs to the waiting car. Settling herself in the back, she directed the driver to take her to the newly opened Bar Vingt et Un in the Latin Quarter, texting her friend Marie to inform her that she would be there shortly.
The darkness of evening had now entirely suffused the celebrated Parisian skyline, as her taxi cruised down the long boulevard Emilie began to feel imbued with the daring spirit that historically has so typified the Parisian nightlife.
The taxi pulled up outside the lively bar, and after generously tipping the driver Emilie swayed her way through the door and towards the bar, her sinuous glide attracting more than one admiring glance. Ordering a strong gin and tonic, Emilie leant against the bar, forcing her breasts into a small yet alluring display of cleavage for the benefit of the young barman. Her flirting was quickly curtailed by the arrival of Marie, a shorter curvier redhead with freckles and pleasingly pouting lips. Marie was a couple of years older, and had just begun work in public relations. Kissing her friend on the cheek to greet her, the two spent the next few minutes chatting at the bar, and cattily casting aspersions about the dress sense esenyurt escort of much of the clientele. Emilie could be a terrible snob when it came to matters of fashion. She did however thoroughly approve of the emerald green sheath dress that Marie was sporting; the bare shoulders emphasising the positively gravity defying décolletage on display. Their conversation soon turned to sex as they slipped further towards inebriation.
“But chérie, you’re surely not suggesting that Jean-Baptiste is as good a lover as another girl is, however sensitive his fingers are?”, Emilie said. Marie tossed her auburn curls and smiled. “You must admit that a powerful man is quite an aphrodisiac. He aspires to political advancement, yet he’s still in thrall to a silly little student like me. Amusant, non?”
“I do declare you’re trying to make me jealous,” Emilie giggled. “I think you should introduce me to the good Ministre, President Sarkozy’s government is so short of good looking men.”
Marie gently stroked Emilie’s cheekbone. “Patience, darling, you can screw your way through the UMP whenever you wish. Tonight you have the pleasure of my company.”
The two girls continued to drink and their flirting grew increasingly brazen, a familiar game that they were both enjoying to its utmost. It was Emilie who was first to surrender to the intoxicating cocktail of alcohol and Marie’s expensive perfume. She leant over and purred something inaudible, an erotic invitation, into Marie’s ear, her dark eyes flashing with excitement.
“Certainement, si tu veux.” was the murmured reply from her companion. “Follow me”.
Emilie followed Marie’s undulating backside at a discreet distance, into the spotlessly clean and modern restrooms. Slipping into a cubicle together, the two giggling girls locked the door, and held each other close. Their lips met softly, gently, Emilie felt her entire body melting as her mouth was expertly toyed with by Marie. Eyes closed, she kissed her lover deeper, enjoying the sensations that the soft pink lips gave her. Marie however was past the stage of sensual, and was beginning to probe with her tongue, urging Emilie with her to reach new heights of sexual anticipation. Marie’s hand slid down Emilie’s back, with a whisper of silk, and squeezed her pert little bottom through the dress. Emilie responded in kind, cupping the globes of Marie’s arse, whilst kissing deeper and longer.
“Oh Emi,” gasped Marie, “I can’t say how much I want you!”
“Don’t then, actions speak..mm..louder than words!” etiler escort was Emilie’s glib response, interrupted by a purr as she felt the weight of Marie’s breasts against her own. Marie’s response was to slide her hand down the back of Emilie’s thigh and up under the hem of her dress, caressing the silky smooth flesh. The lacy stocking tops gripped Emilie’s thighs most appealingly. As her fingertips brushed across the lacy g-string she flashed Emilie a sultry look.
“Good girl.” At this, her hand found its way into the waistband of Emilie’s knickers, then slid round to the front, fingers tickling the short curls of Emilie’s carefully sculpted bush. Emilie quivered at this intimate touch, her body begging for more. Her partner was only too happy to oblige, shifting her position in order slide her whole hand into Emilie’s panties. Emilie felt the intrusive fingers probing the outer folds of her flushed pink womanhood, and felt herself spreading to allow access. Marie’s first two fingers entered easily, aided by the liberal amounts of natural lubrication that Emilie’s excited body was generating. To the sound of moans from the younger girl, Marie pumped her fingers into the wet flesh, making Emilie writhe. Emilie’s head rested on Marie’s shoulder, her gasping moans filling the close confines of the toilet stall. Marie lowered her head and nuzzled Emilie’s neck through her hair, kissing, nibbling, treating every inch of Emilie’s skin as an erogenous zone. Emilie felt her climax building to a crescendo, her every sense yearning for orgasm. Feeling the contractions around her fingers, Marie increased the power of her fucking, whilst whispering into Emilie’s ear.
“Oh my sweet hot little thing…do you desire me..want me..enjoying me inside your naughty little cunt?”
Emilie shook as her orgasm crashed through her, her veins filled with liquid heat as the pleasurable sensations between her legs took over. To save herself from screaming she sank her teeth into Marie’s bare shoulder and groaned, her fingernails raking down her partner’s back.
Slowly her pulse slowed, and she opened her eyes to see the smiling features of Marie.
“That was lovely.”
“Just the entrée, my sweet” responded Marie. “We have so much more to be doing, and the night is still young.”
Emilie re-arranged her thong and did her best to settle her dishevelled hair, then the two girls walked out of the toilets hand in hand, shooting proud, daring glances at those they passed.
“Where now Marie?” Emilie asked, eyes sparkling. “The whole of Paris is ours to enjoy.”
“Why down to the riverbank of course, my darling. I think a little tête-à-tête in the night air will do us good.”
Emilie shot Marie a wanton look of pure sexual ardour, and slipped her arm inside her lover’s. “Allons-y.”
To be continued…
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