A Parisian Interlude


It was one of their occasional confession sessions. They did that from time to time. Em had come rather late to the infidelity scene. Ambrose had been an occasional player on that circuit for a long time. He was older by a decade-plus. This time they were sitting over the dinner table at home on a Saturday night not long after they’d returned from a European holiday. They were well fed and had several wines each to their credit and were chatting about their trip. Em and Ambrose liked going on holiday together. Their working lives were complicated by separate business travel requirements and very stretchy working hours. “Ambrose,” said Em, using the small voice that he knew from experience meant she was about to tell him a sexual secret. “Yes, Em,” Ambrose replied, smiling. “You remember that afternoon in Paris when you went to the Louvre. I said I’d changed my mind and didn’t want to go,” Em said. “Yes, Em,” Ambrose responded, this time with a laugh. “What about it? I had a good time that afternoon. I always like to revisit the Louvre when I’m in Paris. Did you have a good time that afternoon?” Em looked down at the table and then raised her eyes to look him straight in the face. “I did, Ambrose.” Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “Well are you going to tell me about it?” he asked. “Sometimes you tell me about your little adventures. I like that. A hot night in some hotel somewhere is not important. Well, not to anyone who wasn’t there, I mean. Only an affair would be important and then only because it implicitly involves gross ongoing deceit. You know my views on that.” Ambrose sometimes spoke with editorial gravitas. It came with his job. “So tell me, if you want to.” Em looked down at the table again and played with the remains of her table setting, then took a long swig of wine from her glass, emptying it. “Pour me another wine Ambrose, please,” she said. He did so and refilled his glass too. Em looked a little uncertain. That was generally out of character, but Ambrose let it go. He just said, “Okay. Shoot.” “Well,” said Em, “you went out mersin escort around lunchtime. You said you’d spend two or three hours at the Louvre and then you were meeting Ao for a coffee.” Ao was a decorous Vietnamese lady banker Ambrose had known for years and who was by chance in Paris at the same time. Em had always suspected that Ao had produced a wet patch or two in Ambrose’s business trip beds, but he’d never said so. She continued, “I went back to that little bistro we’d been to the afternoon before. It was a lovely, lively little place. We met that touring Latin American rock group there, remember?” “I remember,” said Ambrose. “They were fun. The lead guitarist took a shine to you. We talked about that later, over dinner. You got hot for him too, I think.” Em smiled across the table. “I did, Ambrose. That’s why I went back to the bistro.” Ambrose said, “I see. Well do I get to hear the details?” “Only if you want to, Ambrose,” said Em. “Of course I want to,” said Ambrose. “That is, if you want to tell me the details, which I don’t think you do very often.” He broke off. Then he said, “Do you?” Em said, “No. Often I don’t.” It was her turn to pause. She sipped her wine. “Well…” she said and paused again. “Okay. I’d quietly arranged to meet Luís. I cornered him at the bar while you weren’t looking. I said if the band was there the next day I’d drop in to see them. “He said they wouldn’t be. But he would be there if I was. Then he said he’d like to fuck me. That’s exactly what he said. And I said I’d like him to fuck me. He put his hand up my skirt and pushed two fingers into my panties. He got a big bulge in his pants when he discovered I was already wet. He said, ‘Very nice. You have a hot Brazilian.’ And then he added, ‘I would like to eat your pussy.'” Ambrose raised another eyebrow. “I imagine a lot of men would like to do that, Em.” Em said, “A lot of men do. Very few get their wish.” “But Luís did,” said Ambrose. “Yes, Luís did. When he told me I had a hot Brazilian, I just melted and wanted to swallow his cock and mersin escort bayan for him to fuck me senseless somewhere, as soon as possible.” Ambrose felt his cock stiffening. Em really was a seriously sexy woman. “And did you? And did he?” he asked throatily. “Yes. And yes. Three times,” said Em. “I see,” said Ambrose. “This would have been while I was smiling at the Mona Lisa.” Em laughed. “Perhaps, or maybe you were looking in on Louis XV by then or at some Vietnamese treasure.” She paused. “You met Ao? You were quite late back.” “I saw Ao. We had a coffee and a chat and that went on a while until the early diners started arriving. Ao had something to go to that evening and I needed to get back to go to dinner with you,” Ambrose said. It was Em’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Ambrose smiled and said, “We did it once, Em. It was a long time ago and that’s all either of us wanted. We’re just really good friends, that’s all. But tell me more about your afternoon.” She looked at him. She smiled. “We’d said we’d meet at one o’clock. You left about twelve thirty. I’d told you I’d probably go to the bistro for lunch while you were out so I was dressed and ready to go when you were leaving. “It was quite a warm day and the bistro was just round the corner from our hotel. So I’d decided to wear that nice above-the-knee flowery dress I like to take on trips with me. It flounces nicely. You like it.” Ambrose said, “I do. It’s a very sexy dress.” “It is,” said Em. “It’s even sexier without underwear. When you left I quickly took my bra and panties off and put them back in the drawer. I had been fantasizing about how Luís would look when I told him at the bistro that I was naked under my dress.” Ambrose said, “Are you always as sexy as that when you have a little adventure, Em?” He smiled at her again. Em smiled back. “I am always very sexy if I have a little adventure, Ambrose. It may not be as often as you think it is though.” “Em!” said Ambrose. “Come on. You travel a lot. You’re an attractive woman. I know, and you know too, that there’s escort mersin at least one in every crowd, one man who will make a pass. We both know what it’s like on the business travel circuit.” “Yes Ambrose,” said Em. “But you don’t always make a pass at a woman, do you?” “Of course not,” Ambrose said with a smile. “These days it’s often the other way round.” They laughed together. Ambrose poured more wine, even though Em was beginning to sound a bit blurry. He smiled to himself and thought, “Em has always thought she can drink but she can’t really. Not beyond the standard mark for females on a weight for age basis.” Em was thirty-two and very trim. Not really drinking material. “Do you do that, Em? Make passes at men, I mean?” “Very, very rarely,” she said. “I like to be hunted. I don’t so much like being the hunter.” “But you flirt, Em,” said Ambrose. “I’ve seen you do it. And you must have plenty of opportunities on your travels.” Em said, “I flirt, yes, sometimes. But hardly ever with all-the-way intent.” They paused again. Further refills of wine glasses were needed. Then Em returned to her narrative. “Yes, I travel a lot,” said Em. “Two or three overseas business trips a year and a lot of travel within the country. But I’m on a budget.” “And what is that budget, Em?” Ambrose asked. Em laughed. “Not more than two a year.” “Well that’s a nicely manageable quota,” said Ambrose brightly, though he didn’t necessarily believe it. “Does that include hot massages late at night in your room?” Em blushed. She had convinced herself that Ambrose didn’t know about those. He knew she liked massage. She had thought he believed that all of them were straight. She made a mental note to work on her little-fibs telephone presentation. Then she said, “No.” “And what about them then?” said Ambrose. “Most trips,” said Em. “Though if it’s a short trip sometimes not.” Ambrose looked at her, suddenly burning as a mental picture flashed through his brain of Em being erotically massaged naked on her hotel bed and then being hotly fucked. He had always got off on the thought of Em enjoying the sexual attentions of another man. It was his favourite masturbation fantasy. Sometimes he fantasized that he was Em on that hotel bed, stripped naked, legs thrown wide, being very hotly massaged indeed.