As I watched the last cab taking Anita and Amelia merged into the Paris traffic, I thought about how I should spend the day. The newly announced public traffic strike would preclude me from traveling for the day, so it looked like I would be spending a quiet Sunday in the hotel.
I had arrived in Paris on Friday morning to, hopefully, consummate a deal to acquire a French company that I had been pursuing for over three years. I had met with my associates and was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that they had found an insider, a former accountant that had worked for our target. It was a great start.
On a personal note, I had a wonderful dinner with the Managing Director of the Paris Freyja Club and her husband Phillipe. After the meal, Phillipe had excused himself and just told me to ensure that Danielle got home. Well I called a cab for Danielle the next morning after she assured me that as part of her 'open' marriage agreement with Phillipe, she slept with whomever she wanted, and I thought that the night with her was about as welcome to Paris as gifts get.
Saturday night I had been sitting at the bar in the Freyja Club when there was an argument between the couple that was sitting next to me. The man had stormed away and I was left with his distraught partner who decided to confide her troubles with me. One thing led to another and I learned that the woman who told me her name was Anita and her twin sister Amelia were teachers in the American School in Paris and both had been sponsored for membership in the Freyja Club by Marc, the man I'd observed leaving. After a time, Amelia appeared and for the next few hours I was embroiled in their relationship issues while at the same time enjoying the view of their naked bodies.
We had ended up back at my hotel last night and I participated in my first honest-to-God threesome with the twins. We had fucked and sucked well into the early morning hours, and I noted that between them and Daniella the previous night, that my balls were empty as was my desire for any more female companionship for the time being. I was uncomfortably aware that as I had gotten older that my recuperative powers were on the wane. So it was that I wondered how I should spend the day.
One thing was for sure, I needed my daily five-mile run. Since my high school years, it has become part of my morning routine. On the track team I was more of a sprinter and high-jumper, but later I started jogging and had gotten somewhat compulsive about it. I hadn't run for two days, so that was item number one for today.
The hotel was adjacent to Lake Enghien-les-bains and there is a nice wide sidewalk that encircles the thousand acre lake which I estimated to be about a mile and a half. I figured that four laps would be about right. Twenty minutes later I was sweaty and hitting a nice easy stride. The lake and the surrounding area were beautiful and as I slipped into what some people call, the runner's high, I began to think about my backlog of stories.
Since I had been initiated into the Freyja Club almost a year ago in this very city, I had started to chronicle my experiences and those of some of the people I met. One of those was the hostess of the New York Freyja Club, a woman named Kyree. I had found her story particularly unique and interesting and I had been working on it for some time. After the run, and a nice shower, I got out the notebook and for the rest of the day I wrote and edited until I was satisfied.
This is the final version of my attempt to capture Kyree's journey...
KYREE
My mother was from the upper class of the Wolof People in Senegal and my father was a Major in the French Foreign Legion. Lest you be Ill informed, the rank of Major in the Legion corresponds to what is called a Sergeant Major in other Western Armies. Me and my siblings; three older brothers and two younger sisters were known as 'signare,' a term used to describe individuals who had a mixed racial ethnicity. In my case, while my African heritage is obvious, my overall appearance is more European than Senegalese. I have olive rather than dark skin, and my nose and lips are much more narrow and my hair, while black, tends to be straight rather than kinky. I have been told that the combined effect of my appearance is considered 'exotic.'
In Senegal society 'signare' individuals are an exalted class, probably stemming from the fact that the early infusion of European blood came from merchants, officials and soldiers; In short, the 'elite' of pre-colonial and colonial society. As such, my siblings and I received the best education that my small country could provide.
My father could be stern, and as the patriarch of our family, he was, in my eyes, the very epitome of what a man should be; strong, virtuous, a good provider and our protector. He took pains to insure my brothers grew into men with those self same virtues. As his first girl child, I received no such discipline and I found that, like my mother. I could make him do things that my brothers couldn't, and I learned how to wield my female weakness with considerable strength.
After my father retired from the Legion, he was appointed to be the chief of staff to the Mayor of Dakar and so was able to finance a higher education for all of his children, including me. A short time after my eighteenth birthday I was enrolled in the Aix-Marseille University located in that beautiful French city on the Mediterranean, and I began my studies in Political Science and Government with the intention to return to Senegal and get a job in public service, which my father's position virtually guaranteed. Little did I know at the time that my life journey would lead me elsewhere.
While I did not lack for money, all of the friends I made at the university held at least part-time jobs and to avoid looking conspicuous I decided to seek one as well, so after a very brief search, I quickly found one that appealed to me.
It was in a small camera store not far from the campus. In addition to selling cameras, film and all manner of photographic supplies; its owner also provided services such as passport or family photos and would photograph weddings or social events of all kinds. I was originally hired just to work the cash register and unload merchandise and stock shelves, but unlike some of his previous hires, I asked to do more. So, to his happy surprise, Victor started teaching me the ins and outs of photography.
In my last couple of years in Senegal, I had begun to experience the attraction that girls blossoming into womanhood feel regarding the opposite sex. Oh, I knew boys were different, and since I had three brothers, I wasn't ignorant of the fact that males and females weren't only physically different but that we looked at the world differently as well. What surprised me though, was a rising desire to touch them and have them touch me.
As much as the changes in my own psyche affected me, I was wholly unprepared for the discovery of what the onset of puberty was doing in the bodies of my male friends and acquaintances. Suddenly, I seemed to have moved to their center of attention almost overnight and I found myself being asked out on dates by multiple boys who were finding me as attractive as bees find flowers in the Spring.
I not only loved their attention, but the feeling of their muscles and hairy arms and chests and the sometimes stubble on their cheeks. All features that were different from my soft skin and developing curves. The feeling of that first romantic kiss is still burned in my memory. As much as I might have desired to have explored further, my own reticence combined with the strictures of Senegalese Society doomed those early girlish fantasies. So later, as I found myself in Victor's Camera Shop, I was still basically a virgin in thoughts and definitely one in fact.
