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Napoleon mon amour
Part 3: The Libertines’ Club in Nice


November 22, 2005

We went to Nice this last weekend.  He had to attend a conference for his job.  I had to go to show an old manuscript book of mine that I had inherited from my father to Christies’, the antique dealers.  Of course I could have gone another time but the thought of spending a weekend with Napoleon in Nice was too enticing.  He had booked a hotel from a long time ago and told me he would be happy to have me go with him.

I booked my flight and coincidently, though in different flights, our departure time was the same.  He called me in the morning and told me that he would call me the minute his plane landed in Nice so we could take a taxi to town together.  At the airport I was walking on air, I was so happy. I love airports: so filled with hustle and bustle and so full of possibilities.  I like the fact that I am anonymous there, just another traveler going from point A to point B. 

 I had gone to the hairdresser and the wax lady, and was wearing my best lingerie and clothes.  I don’t know about other women but when I groom I almost have to bed someone otherwise I feel like I have wasted my money.  I know, I know, all women say that you should groom for ‘yourself’ your own sense of confidence etc ... But me, I like myself hairy and not made up, in fact I like myself regardless of how I look -- if I do take care of myself it is to please the ‘other’.

I went to the airport shop and bought a bottle of Veuve Cliquecot champagne, some dark Lindt chocolate with orange pieces, and scented candles and incense for the hotel room.  I thought to myself, as I was shopping, that I have become somewhat of a professional mistress.

We met at the airport and kissed. We laughed about the size of my bag.  Like most Iranian women I cannot travel light.  I had enough clothes to last me a month!  We got to the hotel and I showed him the champagne.  He had room service bring us a bucket of ice.  Our room had a great view of the most azure colored sea.  We kissed and he told me we should go walk around and get a bite to eat.  I agreed. He told me that he had reserved a restaurant for that night and that he was going to take me to a club that was different.  What do you mean different I asked.  He told me that it was an echangist or a libertine club, as they call it here, one where couples go to have sex with other couples.  We had gone to one before.  But we had just watched and made love in one of the windowed rooms that they provide in these places.  I have no problems about experimenting but I also know that these situations are delicate and need to be treated with an enormous amount of grace and maturity otherwise someone always ends up getting hurt.

But Napoleon I trust. There is a kindness and generosity of heart there that is hard to describe. I know deep down in my gut that he would not willingly hurt me.  So I agreed to go.  We had dinner in a gorgeous little restaurant he had found in his Michelin guide that he had brought.  Being somewhat of a gourmet I love people who care about what they eat and who take going to dinner seriously.  Here in France one can eat so well that to treat going to a restaurant without due respect and attention would be sacrilege. 

We ordered escargot for me and a sauté of wild mushrooms for him and then a beautifully cooked cote de beauf that literally melted in the mouth.  We drank a nice bottle of Bordeaux which was just right while not being too expensive.  He knows about wines and I like that. 

Our conversation flows with the ease reserved for old friends who need not explain much to each other.  I pointed out to him that this was probably the only time that we had gone on a proper date.  He told me that we had been to eat at an Indian restaurant many years ago when we still did not have an affair.  I loved the fact that he remembered.  We mistresses hang on to whatever little compliment we can.

We walked for five minutes before we got to the club.  A set of stairs took us down to a door that had a little window that opened from the inside so that they could see who was ringing.  They let us in and we walked up a flight of stairs to an area where there was a big serpentine bar and a big dance floor.  It looked like any other disco.  Only when you took the corridors into the back rooms you found people in different positions and stages of love making. We had a couple of drinks at the bar and then started walking around. 

One dark corridor took us to a big room in the back.  We watched a man spank his woman while she was taking another man in her mouth. I was immediately wet and turned on.  I put Napoleon’s hand in my cunt and made him feel my wetness.  He kissed me and led me to the next room.  There, two men were holding two women who were touching and kissing each other. 

A couple approached us.  They were very distinguished looking and a bit older than us.  The woman looked good: short blond hair and a pant suit. She started touching me.  I responded.  Napoleon told me that she had told him that she likes women.  I turned around pressed her against the wall and kissed her so hard it took her breath away.  She put her hands into my Kos and started feeling me. I explored her kos with my fingers and then put one finger slowly up her anus. She let out a cry and started rubbing my clitoris and kissing me desperately.  I could feel that she wanted to be with me alone.

When I turned to Napoleon to play with his kir which was out by then, she turned me towards her.   Her husband started playing with my breasts and I held his half erect cock-rubbing it from time to time. After feeling each other like that for a while I got tired and wanted the real thing.  The couple did not want us both. Just me. They had come there to find another woman for a threesome-- the woman did not seem to like men much.  So we said goodbye and went back to the hotel.  I just wanted to be with Napoleon.

In the hotel Napoleon fucked me like he had never done before.  “Khoob bood koseh zaneh?” he said as he penetrated me, “kir mardaro doost dashti?”

“Kireh to ro meekham.”

“Begeeresh azizam emshab meekham taa sobh bokonamet ... ”

I closed my eyes and thought about the French woman that I never met whose kos I could still smell on my fingers. I stuck one finger with the other women’s scent in Napoleon’s mouth and he sucked it hard.

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