In the dim basement of the tailor’s shop, 6th arrondissement, Paris. Late afternoon, June 2007. All interns gone. Heart pounding. Maribel alone with J., her boss. The air thick, cool on her skin. She descends the stairs, pulse racing. He said stay after five. No turning back now. Nerves twist in her gut. Fear mixes…
Heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Bob’s place in Collioure, air thick with sweat and moans. Carole under him on the couch, legs spread wide, her shaved pussy—wait, no, that was later—gripping his thick shaft. This was it. My first time. Letting go. Sharing her. Fear clawed my gut, mixed with a sick…
That sunny Saturday morning in our sunlit living room, everything shifted. We’d just signed for Bruno’s new apartment after playing the perfect couple at the agencies. My blue sundress hugged my curves, no bra, nipples teasing the fabric. Bruno, sharp in his gray suit, poured champagne. My heart hammered. This was wrong, thrillingly wrong. Marc…