Viewing the local antiquities

My French was not good 

Not the fat one, not the old one, not the one with the scar lifting her lip:

Black flesh under the street lights, in the doorways, the sidestreets, the alleys, the first time I strolled up, then down Ste ——— in Paris:

I'd just wanted to look.

Walking back to my pension, a little man followed me; I rounded on him, saw his trembling smile, waved my arms, shouted. And drove him away.

NOTE If you arrived here via a search engine's hit on "French," see stories under "Selected Services" in the sidebar at "Blowjob" (or see Lan's got her lips pursed) and at "Cunnilingus" (or see Unsafe).


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All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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