Sonia and Robert's experiences with Sophie following the show
Standing with Robert in the small but tasteful lobby area of the theatre, I felt hot and flustered, even with a flute of excellent champagne in my hand. My thighs felt sticky beneath my skirt, and I wanted a shower to clean the residue of the orgasm I'd had just minutes before in my seat. In addition, my nipples were still hard and insistently pressing against my blouse, attracting the attention of some of the others in my vicinity. In a normal situation, I would have been mortified to show such sexual excitement in public, but given the location and the scenes just recently presented, my feelings of shyness were submerged in the encompassing atmosphere that seemed to breath sex and lust.
The performers from the first two acts, now dressed in street clothes, circulated through the thinning crowd, chatting amiably as we drank the astonishingly expensive champagne. No doubt they were paid a commission on what we spent. It was amusing to learn that "Bruno and Lydia" were married, and even more piquant to observe that it was she who was clearly the boss of their ménage. I supposed that was the recompense for being speared by his massive organ. "Ingrid" proved to be a jovial Dutch girl who had excellent French and spoke excitedly with Robert about places in France she'd been on her last holiday. I myself exchanged a few words with "Astrid", an English boy who'd come to Amsterdam for a sex change, but had been refused for the final surgery. Without the platinum wig and wearing a rather stylish dress, she could certainly pass for a normal woman on the street.
All this time, I was longing to see Sophie. She had lodged herself in my brain and could not be expelled from my thoughts. When I had nearly finished my second glass of wine, and most of the crowd had dispersed, she and Cameron at last appeared. Sophie saw us and came straight toward Robert and me.
She addressed me directly, "Hello! Do you speak English?
Ah! Vous êtes française! Bien! Je parle français beaucoup mieux que je ne parle anglais
." Her school-perfect grammar made me smile. She continued in French, "I was hoping you would be here. I saw you in the audience. Did you like the show?"
My mouth was dry looking at her. Dressed now in a shirt and jeans, she looked innocent and angelic, with her blonde hair falling straight onto her shoulders, her clear skin free of makeup, and her light blue eyes gazing into mine. "It was incredible. I don't really know what to say. How can you do that? It's amazing." I trailed off confusedly.
"Not so incredible. Almost any woman can do it without difficulty, with practice and a good partner. I myself could show you. Is this your husband?"
I introduced Robert, who took her hand and raised it to his lips in an over-gallant gesture. He offered her a class of the champagne, and when she accepted he went to the bar to fetch it.
"Not my husband, but perhaps better than one."
"Are you on holiday?"
"Yes, from Paris. A birthday trip."
"May I ask how old?"
"Twenty-two."
"That is a good age. I will be twenty soon."
"Where did you learn French? You have an accent I can't place."
"Romania. We all learn French at school. It is a language very close to our own."
"And how do you come to be ... here?"
"You mean in Amsterdam, or how I come to be performing sex acts in such a club?" She laughed, showing small even teeth. I go to university in the Hague. This is to make money, and for my own enjoyment. Does that shock you?"
"It's beyond my experience."
"I do this only a couple of times a month. Cameron and I switch off, so that the next show it will be I who puts my hand into her. The rest of the time I study, or have private audiences with those who appreciate what I do."
"It looks so painful, and it must do some damage."
"That is untrue. When the muscles are young and well trained, they retake their accustomed form very quickly. If your Robert were to fuck me tomorrow, he would say I was as tight as a virgin. And in either place." She took my hand, and looked at it closely. "Your hand is quite small, smaller than Cameron's. It could enter my vagina easily. It is the same size as mine, and I could do the same to you, although more slowly and carefully. The sensation of another woman's hand inside you is incredible, something to know and understand. I think you have been with women before, yes?"
"Yes. How can you tell?"
"I am never wrong. The way you were looking at us during the show made me sure. And the fact that you are here speaking with me, even when the others have all left."
I could not deny what she said, nor could I deny the evidence of my still-hard nipples pressing against my shirtfront.
"I can tell too that you were excited watching me. Did you have an orgasm in there?"
"Yes."
"But one orgasm is not enough. You will go back to your hotel and Robert will fuck you, perhaps several times, and you will sleep late in the morning and miss your plans for the day. But it will be worth it. What hotel are you at?"
"The Pulitzer."
"Very expensive, and very nice. Some day I wish to have money to stay in such hotels. How long will you remain in Amsterdam?"
"Four more days."
"That is good. I remain for another two days. Here is my card. Call me if you want me to come to you. It will be expensive, but your lover can pay, and he can participate if that is to your taste." The card was nicely engraved with the word "Sophie" and a telephone number.
Robert arrived with Sophie's champagne. "What's this?" he said, taking the card from my hand.
"My calling card, Monsieur Robert. I was proposing a visit with your charming friend here. She can tell you about it if she wishes. Now I must go.
Au revoir
, and
merci
for the champagne." Sophie and I embraced lightly, kissing the air beside our cheeks, while her breasts pressed into mine. Then she took the glass from Robert and glided from the room.
"What did she mean by a
visit
