Paris pulses around us. Palais des Congrès fades behind. Dark alley ahead. The ‘jack-off street.’ Alexandre’s challenge hits: stroke a stranger. Heart races. Adrenaline surges. I’m Carine. Daytime lawyer. Night? Secret Heroine. Mask cracks. Car pulls over. Empty shadows. I…
Security booth. Morning rush. Trucks rumble in. I zip low. Cleavage on display. Power play. Viannet strides up. Mid-forties. Sharp suit. Not bad. Eyes lock on my tits. He checks in. We chat. Days blur. Flirt builds. Day one: suspicion…
Bed creaks under me. Sheets stick to sweat-slick skin. The cabin’s wooden walls pulse with night sounds. Lake laps outside my window. Heart hammers. That midnight swim. Naked. Free. François’s smile haunts me. Body ignites. No more good girl Cath.…
City hums below my luminous duplex in northern France. Lille wakes. Trucks rumble. My heart races like a getaway car. No more masks. I’m forty. Web dev by day. Secret Heroine by pulse. Obsession burns: crossdressing. Months ago, I snapped.…
She dresses fast. Panties slick with her juices. Pants zipped half-up. Violet tank hugs her flat belly. Sits bed’s edge. Sheets wrecked. Fingers through damp temple hair. Eyes misty blue diamonds. Full lips part. ‘Sorry, big sis. Off to school.…
Dim lights pulse in the manoir’s hidden lounge. Bodies sway on the dance floor. Vinyl clings to my skin like armor. Rémy holds me close, clueless. My heart hammers. Adrenaline surges. I’ve played the faithful wife too long. Watched him…
Paris pulses outside the window. Sunday afternoon hum. Cozy apartment lounge, hidden from the city’s chaos. Coffee steams. My sister Anne lounges on cushions. Cousin Paul slouches on the couch. We’re neighbors, family close. Chat drifts. Men in Paris suck.…
Chilly autumn night. The chais looms dark. Massive barrels tower. Fermenting wine hisses softly. Thick alcohol stench hangs heavy. I’m Janine. Tiny frame. Scrawny everywhere but that ass. Full. Ripe pear. Daytime drone: mousy cleaner. Invisible. Utterly effaced. But tonight?…
Restaurant buzz fades. Anna’s wink hits me—ex there with his girl. I strut in, black dress hugging bronzed skin, heels clicking power. Paul grips my waist. We claim the table facing him. Eyes lock. He squirms. I own this. Dinner…
Sunday, November 25, 2012. Paris chill bites. I stand at the door of the libertine club—hammam, sauna, hidden den. Heart hammers. Day mask cracks: lawyer suits, RER B delays, daily grind. Now, Secret Heroine awakens. Push through the sas. Dim…