Chapter 5: Ramon

"I've decided to pay a visit to 'Le Club' and would like you to come along."

I couldn't believe that Charlotte would change her mind so radically.

"I thought you would never set foot in a place like that," I tried to provoke her.

Charlotte remained unfazed. "I'm not going there for my own amusement, but in the service of science."

She said she was going to conduct a survey on the attitudes of men towards women and wanted to get the young men at 'Le Club' to fill in a questionnaire.

"But what shall I wear?" I asked, remembering what Sylvie and Mirabelle had told me about the effect of the black light.

"Don't worry, I have already selected an outfit for you. Just come to my place in your normal clothes and I'll get you fixed up. You'll be dressed to kill."

I felt a little apprehensive about this. It seemed that she had decided to give me another 'opportunity to learn', as she would put it. But often, I found her way of arranging these opportunities quite humiliating.

Nevertheless, the following Saturday I went to her place as requested, with plenty of time before the disco would open. I undressed as usual and she showed me the clothes she had selected for me. They were a black miniskirt and an equally black top. The skirt was just long enough not to be indecent. The top was made of a semi-transparent crepe lisse. It had a few buttons at the front and was held up by thin spaghetti-straps, leaving the neck and shoulders exposed. For underneath Charlotte had selected tiny bikini-briefs and a strapless bra, both brilliant white.

From what I had heard, the white underwear would shine like a beacon under the influence of the black light. I could imagine that this outfit would attract men like flies and grew even more apprehensive, but when Charlotte made love to me in a beautiful, tender way, all my worries were forgotten.

Afterwards she explained her plan to me. Because I was new and very good looking, lots of men would want to dance with me or just try to chat me up. I was allowed to talk to and dance with whoever I wanted, but before I would have to send them to her so she could give them her questionnaire. It sounded a little weird to me but I couldn't see any harm in helping her with her research.

When we arrived at 'Le Club' the place was just starting to fill up. It was a large, mainly bare room with a stage for the band, a large dance floor in front of the stage and a few tables around the dance floor. One entire wall was taken up by a huge bar. Charlotte established herself at a table near the dance floor and I occupied a place at the bar.

I was amazed by the large number of men - to be precise, mostly boys about my age - who came to talk to me. There were some stupid come-ons like, "Hi cutie, do you come here often?" which I ignored. On the whole they treated me with respect, although it was quite clear that they were after one thing only.

When I sent them to see Charlotte first, some thought this was a stupid idea and lost interest, but most of my pretenders went to talk to her and came back showing me her confirmation that they had completed the questionnaire. I danced with quite a lot of boys whenever the band was playing and stood around chatting when the musicians took a break. The fact that the black light over the dance floor showed everyone the shape of my underwear didn't bother me. After all this wasn't very different from walking around the swimming pool wearing a bikini.

This was a place where young people went to pick up someone or to be picked up, so it didn't surprise me that some of my dance partners tried to feel me up, kiss my neck and shoulders or slide their hands under the back of my skirt to feel my bottom and suggested we go somewhere more private, but I hadn't met anyone interesting enough to contemplate such an invitation.

After some time, Charlotte came to where I was standing at the bar and said, "This is going very well. Now comes phase two of the experiment. Go to the toilet and take off your bra."

I didn't know what to say. Mirabelle had clearly told me that people notice when a girl who had been displaying her bra in the black light was suddenly no longer wearing one. It was a statement of availability for groping and was only done by girls who were desperate to find someone for the night. I didn't see myself in that category, so I told Charlotte that this was not part of our agreement.

Charlotte just said, "It doesn't matter what we agreed, just do as you're told."

Reluctantly, I went to the toilet and took off my bra as Charlotte had requested and handed it to her. As I crossed the dance floor there were a few wolf whistles. Some men had obviously noticed that I was no longer wearing the bright, white garment. I went to my usual place at the bar and asked for a drink when I heard a voice near me say, "Vous êtes trés jolie." [You are very pretty.]

My mind was still occupied with the effect the missing bra might have on future dance partners. I didn't pay any attention to what the voice had said and just answered, "If you want to dance with me, you have to see Charlotte over there," pointing in the direction where Charlotte was sitting.

Only after that did I think about what he had said. He was the first one in this place to use the polite form of address, 'vous', rather than the informal 'tu' like everybody else.

He replied, "I wasn't really thinking of dancing. I want to make passionate love to you all night long."

"Well, you have to see Ch..." Again, I had started my response without paying much attention to what he had said. When it sank in, I stopped in mid-sentence and looked at him.

"What?"

He was good looking, I guessed in his late twenties, and everything about him said 'man', but in a very gentle way.

"You heard what I said," he replied. He spoke with a foreign accent which I couldn't quite place. I could tell from his face that he meant what he had said. Not like some boys who occasionally approached me saying, "You wanna fuck?" and probably wouldn't know what to do if I actually were to answer yes. There was something electric, something extremely sensual in the air.

"This is how we'll do it," he said, "You go back to the toilet and take off your panties. You write 'je veux' [I want to] on them with your lipstick and bring them to me. Then we leave, go to my apartment and make passionate love all night long."

This was unbelievable. How could a complete stranger dare to make such an outrageous proposal. I looked at him again. He looked straight back at me. He was serious about this. He just nodded and said, "Go," as if giving me permission to leave.

I was under his spell. Like a sleep-walker, I got off my chair and went to the toilet. Inside the cubicle I slipped off my panties and wrote 'je veux' on the lacy textile. Then, carrying the garment in my hand, I returned to the bar. As I crossed the dance floor there were quite a few more wolf whistles. Those boys had obviously noticed that the other part of my underwear was also gone and that I carried it in my hand for everyone to see. I handed my panties to the stranger without saying a word.

"Very nice," he said as he put them in his pocket. "Let's go." He put his arm around my waist and lead me to the door.

In his car he finally asked me for my name and told me that he was called Ramon. He was 32 years old, from Argentina, but now living in Paris. I told him I was 18 years old, a lie which I considered credible. I didn't want to risk him turning around and taking me back to where he had picked me up.

It would take some time to get to his apartment, so we had a chance to get to know each other a little better. I asked him if he was a frequent visitor to 'Le Club', trying to find out if he usually picked up girls this way.

Ramon explained that this was his first visit, a stroke of luck, so to speak. He had been on his way back from Lyon when he heard on his car radio that all the major roads into Paris were blocked, Especially 'la périphérique', the ring road around Paris, was reported to be one solid traffic jam. Rather than sitting in a traffic jam for hours, he had decided to stop somewhere on the way for an early dinner. When he had finished his meal, the radio was still reporting heavy traffic so he decided to wait a little longer and went for a walk. This is when he saw 'Le Club' and went inside.

"As soon as I saw you, I knew I wanted to make love to you," he said.

"Do you usually tell your victims to take off their panties before you ask for their name?" I asked, trying to get him to tell me a little more about his intentions.

"Well, no, this was a special case. I had been standing next to you for a while without you noticing me, so I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with your friend - I apologize for being so nosey. From what I heard I came to the conclusion that you need someone to tell you what to do, to take responsibility for your actions. So I ventured to help you with your decision - and luckily you followed my advice. I'm sure you won't regret it."

I found this explanation puzzling. Was he hinting that he had discovered Charlotte was my master and did he intend to take over that role?

When I asked him why he had moved from his native country to Paris he just answered, "Professional reasons," and left it at that. After a while he said, "I've been away for a week, so I don't know what state my apartment will be in. You may see some ladies' underwear lying around."

'Oh dear, ' I thought, 'this one's seducing women by the dozen and keeps their underwear as a trophy. I wonder if there are any bodies hidden under the floorboards.'

He continued, "I don't want you to get a wrong impression. It's part of my job."

I kind of expected that the stranger would rest his hand on my knee, let it slide up my thighs, underneath my skirt or make some other advances towards me. After all I had agreed to let him have his way with me - I had even given it to him in writing. And he knew that I wasn't wearing any underwear. My skimpy skirt and flimsy top wouldn't offer much protection. But, to my surprise, he behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the journey.

Ramon parked the car in an underground garage and we took the lift to the top floor where his apartment was. We entered a small hallway with several doors leading off to either side. At the end of the corridor was a large rectangular space, with floor-to-ceiling windows on either end overlooking Paris.

The large room was divided into three distinct spaces each with its own characteristics. The part to the left looked like an artist's studio with a large table on which several sketches were scattered. There were also a number of cameras on tripods and an assortment of lighting equipment. On the walls, I noticed poster-size photographs of very classy looking women wearing elegant underwear, but I didn't see any panties lying around.

The middle part looked like a conventional living room with a sofa, several comfortable armchairs and a large TV screen. There was also a small bar with a few stools which gave access to the kitchen. The other third of the room had a raised floor. In the semi-darkness I saw an enormous bed but couldn't make out much else.

Ramon asked me if I would like a drink. I accepted but left the choice up to him.

"I think the occasion calls for Champagne," he declared. As he went to the kitchen to get a bottle from the fridge, he said, "By the way, there is a phone over there in case you want to make a call."

A call? - Christ! His remark brought me down to earth. I was in Paris, it was nearly ten and my father had told me to be home by eleven at the latest. 'Making passionate love all night long' would take much longer than I had time for. My mind was searching feverishly for a solution. Then I found it: I remembered that Sylvie was nursing a cold and had decided to stay at home that evening, and I knew that I could count on her.

I phoned Sylvie and explained that I would spend the night somewhere else, without going into details. I asked her to call my parents and tell them I was staying at her place. For what reason was I staying at her place? I couldn't come up with a good reason and asked her to think of one. I would call her in the morning to find out what she had told my parents. After this excitement I really needed a drink.

Shortly after I had taken my fist sip of Champagne, Ramon started to kiss me. First he kissed my hair, my forehead and my cheeks, then, rotating the bar stool on which I had planted myself, he proceeded to kiss my neck, shoulders and ear. I was astonished what devastating effect these gentle caresses had on me. A simple flick of his tongue behind my ear lobes sent shivers down my spine and had me moan with desire. He continued to turn the bar stool around, kissing and stroking my neck and shoulders and giving my other ear lobe the same treatment. When we were face to face again our mouths locked in a passionate kiss.

Ramon pushed my head towards him and plunged his tongue into my mouth while I threw my arms around him and tried to match his efforts as best I could. We stopped only briefly to catch our breath and then locked our mouths again in a tight kiss.

After a while, Ramon started to unbutton the halter top I was wearing. As I watched him, I noticed how thin the material really was and how much of the shape of my breasts it revealed. I also realized how hard my nipples had become, an indication of how aroused I was.

When Ramon had undone all buttons, he pushed the spaghetti straps holding the garment in place off my shoulders so that the top would fall. It slipped down a little but its fall was stopped by my erect nipples. Ramon lifted me off the bar stool and stood me on the floor. Then, with a little help from both of us, my halter finally fell to the floor. Ramon stepped back a little to take it all in. His face was like that of a boy who had just received a huge Christmas present.

"You are so beautiful," he finally said.

He gently cupped my breasts as if to feel their weight and then bent down to kiss them, slowly working his way from the left to the right and then back again, not missing the valley in between. When he reached my nipples, the excitement became almost unbearable. My god, how this man could use his tongue. Not even my friend Charlotte who was an expert in these things had ever made my excitement reach this level. First he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, then he circled his tongue around the rock-hard flesh. When he gave it a few sharp flicks, I felt like I had been whipped in one of my most delicate places. But I didn't just feel it where his mouth was. The sensation went straight to my pussy. I let out a moan and came, feeling at the same time that my legs were no longer able to support me. I stumbled forward, only to be caught in his arms.

He steadied me and said, "Yes, you're right, let's move to a more comfortable place. But first let's finish the unwrapping."

He really thought I was an early Christmas present! Kneeling on the floor in front of me, he unfastened my skirt and let it drop to the floor. There was no further 'wrapping' to be removed as I had already taken off my panties before embarking on this adventure. I could sense that he was tempted to plunge his tongue into my already moist sex there and then. But he restrained himself and, once again, stepped back a little to contemplate his present.

"My god, you're much more beautiful than I expected," he said.

This short interlude gave me a chance to reflect on the strangeness of the situation: Here I was, standing stark naked in front of a man whom I had only met a short while ago. And why was I here? Because he had promised (or should I say offered, or maybe threatened?) to make passionate love to me all night long. If the events so far were anything to go by, I was in for an exciting experience.

Ramon picked me up and carried me, like a newly-wed husband might have carried his bride, up the few steps to the raised platform where the bed was located.

As we approached the bed, soft background lighting came on automatically. 'Hmm, that's handy', I thought to myself, 'this way you don't need to switch on the lights when you've got your hands full.' And I wondered how many times before my lover had come up these steps 'with his hands full'.

Ramon placed me gently on the huge bed and proceeded to strip down to his shorts. I wondered briefly why he didn't go all the way. It certainly wasn't because he was embarrassed about the size of his member, judging from the huge bulge his erection produced. The rest of his body was also quite impressive: strong muscular arms and legs, a broad chest and a belly without any trace of flab. He was obviously looking after himself. I had seen boys my age with more flab than this.

But I didn't have much time to think such idle thoughts as his hands and mouth were soon back on my body. Ramon lay down next to me and took my face into both hands. As before, he started kissing me gently, my hair, my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks and finally my mouth. We embraced tightly as our mouths locked in a wild, passionate kiss.

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted him to make love to me. That I wanted to be his. Tonight, any night, any day. But would I live up to his expectations? Would he be disappointed when he found out that I had hardly any experience in pleasing a man? In spite of all the excitement his tender caresses were producing, I couldn't help feeling a little tense about the next step. Ramon noticed that there was something worrying me, keeping me from enjoying his treatment to the full.

"Relax," he said, "nothing bad is going to happen to you. You know something? - I'm going to give you a massage."

He turned me around so that I was lying face down on the bed and produced a bottle of fragrant oil from somewhere. He put some of it on his hands and started to give me a massage.

His touch was so light, his hands were so gentle, so subtle; at times I wondered whether he was actually touching me or whether his hands were just hovering above my skin, afraid that I might burst like a soap bubble if he touched me too firmly. It felt like heaven. The massage relaxed me to the point that I imagined myself levitating, my body floating a few centimetres above the bed. That would explain the ease with which he turned me around and gave my front the same treatment he had given my back.

Massaging my front, of course, meant touching my breasts, brushing ever so lightly over my nipples, easing my legs apart and applying the oil to the area around my sex, his hands coming tantalizingly close but never actually touching my pussy. It added desire to the general feeling of well-being. Oh, how I wanted this man, how I wanted to feel him inside me!

The massaging hands soon got assistance from his mouth. The combined team of lips, tongue and skilful hands soon raised my excitement to a level I hadn't thought possible. He caressed my body without any hurry, lingering at every spot for as long as was necessary to achieve the maximum effect, often returning to the same point for a new version of the same thrill. Not like the men I had been with before, who all seemed to be only interested in getting inside my pussy as soon as possible. This time, it was me who was driven wild with desire, wanting him to plunge his cock into me and fuck me senseless. As much as I tried, I couldn't hide the state I was in as his hands and mouth explored every inch of my body.

There came a point when I couldn't contain myself any longer. To hell with the image of the respectable young lady who couldn't possibly beg to be fucked.

"Didn't you say you were going to make love to me?" I asked.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he replied.

"Well, yes... no,... you know," I stammered, looking at the bulge in his shorts.

"Oh, I see. You want a visit from my friend here?"

I nodded.

"Well, then, come and get him."

I didn't need a second invitation. I pulled down his shorts as fast as I could. His cock, freed from its prison, almost jumped into my face. Had I been in a normal state of mind, I would have been frightened by its size, but my mind had left its normal state a long time ago. What I had in front of me, just a few inches from my eyes, was living proof that the 'dirty' magazines I had seen weren't lying. Cocks this size did exist! I didn't care that it was much bigger than anything I ever had seen. I wanted this cock inside me, even if it split me in two, even if it was the last thing I ever did.

Eventually, I stopped staring and lay back, spreading my legs invitingly. Ramon still had to free himself completely from his shorts and then joined me. Supporting his weight on one arm he guided the head of his cock into my wet entrance. It slid inside me, aided by the plentiful supply of pussy juices - up to a point. Then I could feel that my tightness did not let it get any further. Ramon just covered my face with little kisses and gradually pushed deeper inside me with little grinding movements. My pussy felt so unbelievably full, stretched to its very limits, but he kept stretching me further, and a little further, until he was completely inside me. Overjoyed, that I had been able to take his full length, I started rocking my pelvis, inviting him to fuck me in earnest.