Sugar and Spice

Tag: Moulin Rouge

  • Emily-Rose in Paris (again)

    After enjoying Paris and the Moulin Rouge so much the first time, Jamie (my regular sugar daddy), decided to take me back the following year for my birthday. We hadn’t intended on going back to the strip club though, in fact I was quite against the idea after the aggro it’d caused last time (see linked blog); however, Jamie insisted that we go in, promising not to get upset or jealous this time.  

    It was a weeknight, so completely dead inside; and much to my disappointment I couldn’t see the girl who’d gone down on me the last time we’d been there.  

    There were a few scantily dressed girls milling around, but they weren’t dancing, in fact there wasn’t much going on at all. We didn’t mind though as we were still buzzing from the Moulin Rouge, high on champagne and happy to just enjoy each other’s company.  

    As none of the girls were dancing, I took it upon myself to climb onto the stage where we were sitting and do my own performance for Jamie. I was wearing a short black strappy dress, with no bra, so easily able to pull my dress down and expose my breasts whilst I danced.  

    I obviously can’t do the tricks the professionals can but still had fun writhing up and down the pole, feeling sexy and putting on a show. I’m quite an exhibitionist after a few drinks and couldn’t resist the opportunity to dance topless in a seedy club in Paris; it’s not something you get the chance to do every day.    

    There were a few guys hovering around the bar that obviously worked there (and who were more than happy to let me do my thing) and the girls relaxing at the back of the club watching me dance and cheering me on, probably enjoying a break; other than that, we had the place to ourselves.  

    After dancing for a while, I asked Jamie whether he wanted to take one of the girls into a private booth, to make up for the previous year when he’d missed out, having not been brave enough to join me and my sexy French friend for some private time.  

    He suggested that we go in together, but I didn’t want to go with him, I wanted him to have the full experience without me getting in the way (or making things weird); I had no desire to join in or watch. So slightly reluctantly he approached the girls and disappeared into a booth with one, leaving me sat by the stage alone, sipping champagne.  

    I wasn’t sat there long though before one of the men from the bar who’d been watching me dancing came over to talk to me. I guess he must have been the owner or the manager, for he was dressed in an expensive looking suit and had an air of authority about him. His English wasn’t great, but he knew enough to say that he wanted a blow job, and to follow him upstairs; which of course, me being me, and being quite drunk, I did.  

    If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve negotiated a fee and earnt some money, but as it happened, after being bundled into a tiny toilet cubicle, I got on my knees and sucked his French cock for free.  

    He must have realised that I was a sex worker, or at the very least an ‘easy’ woman; I mean I had been dancing around half naked in front of him and the others, so could hardly blame him for trying his luck… 

    By the time Jamie emerged from the booth I had been returned to my seat by the stage, and was trying to process what had just happened, it had all felt a bit surreal. I wasn’t sure whether to tell Jamie about it or not but decided I should. 

    He was rather upset (again), as all he got was a dance and some boobs in his face, he wasn’t even allowed to touch. A stark contrast to my experience the year before, where my girl was all over me and I all over her; obviously it depends on the girl, and who she’s dancing for. 

    He was annoyed that whilst he was in the private booth (not particularly enjoying the experience) I’d been off sucking some other guy’s cock; which in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have done.  

    Looking back now, it concerns me how comfortable the man who worked there was with approaching me and demanding a blow job, like it was something he was entitled too and did all the time. I worry for the girls who work there, and whether they’re expected to drop to their knees and suck their bosses’ cocks whenever they’re told, and whether they’d lose their jobs if they didn’t. 

    I was drunk on champagne, horny as fuck and in Paris, so I didn’t mind, I was never going to see this man again, so could easily have told him to fuck off if I’d wanted too, the girls working there may not have that option though.  

    For women like me (and them) who work in the sex industry, there’s a fine line between a mutually beneficial arrangement and an exploitative one, and sometimes it’s difficult to know which side of the line you’re on; it’s not always obvious. 

    Despite our less-than-ideal experience at the strip club, Jamie wants to go back to the Moulin Rouge next year for his 70th birthday, however this time I really will insist that we give the strip club a miss. I think a private show from me in our hotel room may be safer. 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

    To check out what happened on our first visit to Paris check out this blog

    My French Fancy

  • My French Fancy

    One of my sugar daddies took me to the Moulin Rouge in Paris to celebrate our second anniversary. If you ever get the chance to go, please do, I can’t recommend it enough! It’s everything and more… stunning costumes and choreography, lavish over the top and ridiculously camp musical numbers, gorgeous women with exposed breasts, shapely bums and long legs… I love it! 

    Buzzing after the show we head out in search of a nightcap; passing a nearby strip club. Obviously, I’d never been to a place like this before, but drunk on champagne and super horny, I persuade my sugar daddy to take me in.  

    Inside is dark, and pretty empty; a bar to one side, a stage with a few poles in the middle, and private booths down the other. Two girls wearing just underwear are stood at the bar, and a group of guys are in the corner drinking, apart from that, there’s little else going on.  

    We get our complimentary champagne and sit by the stage, watching in anticipation, for something/ anything to happen. Eventually one of the girls disappears around the back and reappears on stage. Her song comes on, and she does her turn, removing her bra halfway through the routine, dancing topless in just a thong, suspender belt, stockings and heels.  

    Once done, she retrieves her bra, slips it back on and joins the other girl at the bar. At one point a third girl comes out of a private booth with an older gentleman, looking very pleased with himself; they talk and laugh whilst she walks him to the door and says goodnight.  

    After that the three girls take it in turns to work the pole, every 10 minutes or so; hanging out at the bar in-between, waiting for punters.  

    My favourite was the first one we saw, she has dark hair and dark skin, a gorgeous curvy body, and perfect pert breasts. I’m mesmerised every time she gets up to dance and she catches me looking, giving me a saucy smile each time our eyes meet. 

     During one of her breaks, she comes over, gesturing to the two of us and saying something in French; pointing in the direction of the private booths, obviously asking if we want to join her. My French is poor, so I don’t know what she’s saying, but understand that whatever she’s offering, it cost ‘cent Euros’.  

    My sugar daddy’s quick to say no, that we aren’t interested; so giving me a disappointed smile she returns to the bar. I want to go after her and tell her to take me, but instead turn to my sugar daddy, and much to his surprise ask if I can go by myself. I want to treat myself to something in Paris after all, so why not this experience; he can pay and take it off my bill when we get back. Slightly shocked he follows me to the bar, where he pays the ‘cent Euros’, and watches as I’m led by the hand to one of the private booths.  

    I have no idea what to expect, but to be honest I don’t care. I’m thinking there might be a pole, or she’ll give me a lap dance; but I won’t be allowed to touch; isn’t that the rule in these places? 

    The little room is small and separated from the rest of the place by a thick curtain; and there’s no pole, just a curved bouffon type thing. She sits me down and proceeds to lift up my dress and gently stroke between my legs; seeing that I’m enjoying the attention, she removes my knickers and begins to pleasure me with her tongue. She takes off her bra, allowing me to fondle and play with her breasts; and spreads her legs so that I can pull her knickers to one side, and caress her clit. Her breasts are bigger than mine, but feel real, her nipples are different too, larger and more erect; her skin is soft and smooth, and she smells like soap. At one point my fingers tentatively explore her vagina, only to find it blocked with what feels like (but surely isn’t) a champagne cork. Unable to explore any further, I focus on her clit, licking my fingers to make sure they’re nice and wet.  

    I’ve no idea how long we’re in there, it’s impossible to maintain any concept of time in these situations, however once our time’s up, she makes me presentable, before taking me back to my sugar daddy; who’s sitting where I left him, looking a bit anxious and uncomfortable. 

    During our time together we barely speak due to the language barrier (and the fact that her mouth was otherwise engaged) however it’s amazing how much you can communicate without saying a thing. At one point I do ask whether she enjoys her job, like I’m making a fricking Louis Theroux documentary or something. She obviously understood the question, as she said yes, but on reflection what else was she going to say; it was a stupid question. 

    As someone who’s paid for sex and sexual services, I’m glad that I’ve had this experience and been on the other side of things. I may not have realised what I was paying for at the time, but I enjoyed the experience and was happy to give her my money, and my custom. I don’t know her story, or why she’s doing what she’s doing, but I hope she doesn’t hate it and that the men running the place aren’t screwing her over (because undoubtedly, it’s the type of place that’s run by men). 

    My sugar daddy didn’t appreciate the experience so much and was annoyed that I’d gone in without him, which was unfair as he’d been fine about it at the time. He felt left out and had wanted to join us, but hadn’t been brave enough; basically, he fucked up and missed out… sucks to be him! 

    Anyway, he took me back to the Moulin Rouge the following year for my birthday and somehow we ended up in the same strip bar; but that’s a story for another day. 

    Until next time, 

    Emily-Rose xxx 

    For more girl-on-girl action, check out this blog….

    Three in the bed