This is the eighth instalment of Yaz's adventures. For new readers, naturally, the best place to start is the first adventure but for those who wish to jump straight in, the following is a brief resume of how we got to this point.
Having first met Yaz when she was working at the Pleasure Parlour, she drove me crazy, taking over my life for the day and my dreams for the night. As wasn't happy doing what she did, she left the place but I managed to track her down and encouraged her to move in with me to begin a new life. She joined me for an evening at a jazz club, the Absolution, when some of her sexual fantasies started to emerge, in particular, her desires to be dominated by a voluptuous singer who was performing. At the same function, a slender server, working the room and a lone Scandinavian patron, a big guy called Cairn, ended the evening in his bed. Having made contact with the voluptuous singer, Yaz and I attended an address to meet with her to, hopefully, realise Yaz's fantasy. Arriving at the door we were met by the slender server who advised that Mistress was waiting for her...
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Ils sont étonnés de me voir!
The jazz club server, devoid of black and white livery.
Or the town bar server, ditto tight blue jeans.
Their eyes, wide open.
He is undressing me in his mind's eye.
Visualising me naked, aroused, ready.
She is asking herself why I am here.
They have much to learn.
"Welcome, I am Frankie, Mistress's maid."
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Lots of questions, lots of answers.
She's going inside.
Crossing the threshold, a train.
Frankie leading, you, following, me bringing up the rear.
Eyes on yours, as ever.
The hallway, dark after the sunshine without.
Halting, turning, finger across lips.
Silence.
Creeping, the stair, step by step, heart in mouth.
The landing, four doors, closed.
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Mistress's maid?
She is very attractive, erotic eyes.
Possibly not your sort, no tits to speak of.
But very kissable lips.
A nod to me, a finger, pointing at first door.
Obedience.
Twisting the handle, nerves jangling, so aroused.
Peering through the gloaming.
Punctuated, sconces of candlelight.
Hearing the door click, behind me.
Heart in mouth.
"Pull yourself together, Yaz, it's what you wanted!"
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Frankie, pointing, second door, a nod.
Entering, door closing behind.
A single chair, otherwise empty.
Approaching, recognising a robe, black.
Only one thing, undressing, self-conscious.
Assuming the robe, tying, strangely embarrassed.
Exiting, Frankie, glancing down, smiling.
Opening small table drawer, extracting.
A blindfold, becoming real now.
Behind me, aware of her fragrance, arousing.
Darkness, heart pounding, her voice.
"Vous n'oublierez jamais ce jour... I promise!"
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Scanning the room.
The only furniture, a table, large.
Approaching, various items, spread out.
Smiling upon recognition, erotic garments.
Unopened, transparent wrappings.
Sizes correct, how did she know?
Even stilettos.
Everything in black, red trim.
An envelope, my name, opening.
A blindfold, same colour scheme, a note, reading.
"Change, hide your eyes, then wait."
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Soft hand clasping mine, hearing door opening.
The third, perhaps.
Step by step, forward slowly, entering.
Sensing fragrances, candles, alluring.
Guided to a stop, hands on shoulders.
Pressing down, assuming a chair, lowering.
