Hopefully later.We got dressed. I put on a tight white tank top and close-fitting jeans with no underwear. George wore white loose-fitting pants lik... the hippies used to wear. They were almost transparent and you could see the thong which contained his mighty equipment underneath. His top matched the pants and you could see his nipples through the material. He smelt divine. His blond hair looked fashionably dishevelledWe drove the twenty minutes to Rachel’s house up in the hills. My world of fantasy.Taboo.“Bonsoir, mademoiselle,” said a well-groomed gentleman, bowing as I entered. He was in his late forties, with a neatly trimmed mustache and hairstyle.“Bonsoir, Alain,” I replied, striding past him to survey the turnout. Sunday night was usually a mixed bag for other places, but we always did well. “How are we looking for this evening?”“Excellent, as always, mademoiselle.” The Frenchman maintained an eloquent expression, but the proud glint in his eye never escaped me.. More

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