Chapter 1. Madame Michelle

I wandered onto Vendôme Square trying not to look overawed by the majestic buildings. In this most prestigious of places in Paris, the architect has designed each building to be identical with graceful arched ground floor windows and tall-windowed second floors while pilasters and ornamental pillars give that classical feel. Alongside high-class residences there were swanky shops including several famous jewellers, and a number of well-known dress designers as well as the very expensive Hotel Ritz and Hotel Vendôme. In the middle of the square a statue of Napoleon I looks down from a tall column dressed as a Roman emperor.

The whole place catered for the rich and famous. This was where the super-snobs do their shopping. Hard-working normal people like you and me were not welcomed. The burly doormen and shop detectives gave me the evils watching for any excuse to hand out a beating. I made my way outside the lingerie shop and watched for a while trying to pluck up the courage to enter this most feminine of stores. Two shifty looking guys seemed to be doing the same and gave me suspicious glances. They looked as scruffy and out of place as I did. I pretended to walk away to look at another shop before circling back. Unlike some of the other stores the boutique had an open-door policy allowing anyone to enter without an appointment or a gold credit card. There was also no big burly tough on the door to keep out the riff-raff. Indeed I saw the back of the two guys from earlier tailgate a young woman into the shop. Maybe she was the girlfriend of one and I felt a pang of jealousy because she was a very attractive well-dressed sophisticated looking young woman. Maybe scruffy was the new trendy look for rich young men? I felt nervous entering a store that catered exclusively for women and even more so that this was such a high-class establishment. Taking a deep breath to compose myself I decided if those two could do it then so could I. Trying to enter as casually as I could, I hoped not to draw any attention. More than that, I prayed that I was not recognised for my last visit to this place did not go too well [PANTYHOSE #4].

The boutique was a veritable temple of femininity and elegance which did nothing to calm my unease. Every well-lit display of flimsy undergarments made me feel an intruder. Making my way as unobtrusively as I could to a door at the rear, I took a casual look around to make sure no-one was watching. I spied the shady guys enter the changing rooms which was odd but it wasn’t my concern. Quickly opening the door, I went through then closed it behind me. Climbing the stairs I found before me as stealthily as I could, I recalled how last time I was following the large powerfully muscled calves of Madame Julia. She had been a spy within the Gendarme for the secretive group of female vigilantes known as The Pantyhose Society. At the top of the stairs was another door behind which was the office that served as their headquarters. Steeling myself I pressed down the handle of the door, opening it and walked right in.

“Come in Monsieur Priest” said a familiar soft feminine voice with slight Oriental tones. A slender figure sat in front of a desk watching a computer monitor. “Did you not think we had CCTV cameras placed around the store?” Madame Michelle smirked. A demure smile on a slim medium sized mouth graced a small attractive rounded face pushing up high cheekbones. Her almond-shaped eyes stared at me atop a short squat nose, beneath short black hair worn in a bob and shot through with silver strands, an indicator of her 50+ years. She was an attractive woman and the silk kimono-style dress clinging to her slim body made it look soft and feminine. A delicate shade of blue featuring large patterns of flowers in shades of purple and red, the sleeves were long and wide while the hem fell to her feet. Around her slim waist was a wide cream coloured band of silk. It made her gorgeously attractive in that wide-eyed beguiling way that only Oriental women can. Demure and extremely feminine with the shimmering silk imparting a sensual erotic look, Madame Michelle looked delicate and innocent. Except from my previous encounters with her, I knew different. “Very nice” I remarked “But aren’t Geishas Japanese rather than from Hong Kong?” “Beauty and elegance is not restricted by national boundaries, Monsieur Priest” she smiled, lighting up her small face.

She placed her hands upon the arms of the chair and smiled. “You just can’t stay away. Can you Jim?” she purred seductively “You want to worship your mistress again don’t you?”. I suppressed a pang of lust yearning at the memories invoked by her words for this good looking mature Oriental was fully capable of inflaming my desires. “As tempting as that is. I must decline because it is about time you answered my questions” I tried to sound stern but she was clearly not impressed. “Are you going to interrogate me, Jim?” she asked coyly stretching out her right leg through a concealed full-length slit.

Casually placing her toes upon the edge of the desk she arched the top of her foot into a sensuous convex curve. This swept into a long stretch of shin backed by a sexy semi-pear drop of hard muscled calves rising at a shallow angle to her raised knee. The breath-taking sight then descended in an equally glorious expanse of thigh. I tried not to stare but I am just a man. Simply put, the long slender leg now on display from shoeless feet to the top of her thighs was one of the sexiest that I’d ever seen. Sheathed in sheer tan-coloured pantyhose of the highest quality that was the trademark of the society, it was very stimulating. “Yes Jim” she said, her voice dripping with seduction “Come and give me a good interrogation”.

Oh boy! Struggling against the strong urge to kneel before her and run my hands along those beautiful legs, I tried to focus. “You lured me to Paris by planting my business card on one of your victims” I accused. “A serial rapist. He deserved it” she proclaimed lifting her foot and stretching it towards my chest like a sexy nylon-clad cobra. “To involve me in a case where a master criminal escaped justice because he was a member of the Super Rich” the bitterness seeped into my voice. “Yes, that was regrettable” she sighed as her dainty toes lightly danced over my chest. God she was such a tempting creature! It really was hard not to grab her and kiss her passionately. “I really thought you had dug up enough evidence to jail him, but underestimated the insidious nature of the judicial system to protect the rich” She sounded genuinely regretful while her toes left a distracting trail of sensual tingles. “So the Global Elite get away with it yet again” “No, dear Jim. The Moroccan got what was coming to him. I made sure of that. He’s been put firmly in his place”. Orrrrrrr! I tried not to groan as her foot lowered and gently stroked the front of my trousers. “And how about you Jim? Are you ready to get in your place?” She asked in a sensual inviting tone. Lord! it was difficult to ignore the effect her foot was having on my groin. “The numbers you wrote on the back of my business card, 9546. What do they mean?” I asked.