A Prequel to Too Much Red Wine

A PREQUEL TO ‘TOO MUCH RED WINE’ and RENE

This my true account of living in the hinterland of St.Tropez, in the South of France, and before I met up with the beautiful Weimeraner, René.
It is purely an account of a lesbian, and her strait-laced, hetro, married woman. No, no doggie interest in this story.
It is quite long but like my lovemaking, I like to take my time in trying to explain and entertain the reader….NO wham bam thank you ma’am for me. LOL, so please stay with it and I would love to hear your thoughts about my life here on the Mediterranean coast. Enjoy.

]Living on my own, in a small village, in the hills behind St.Tropez , in the South of France, I am carefree, happy, but get lonely from time to time.
I am a 30yo lesbian, 5’8” tall, attractive and sexy (as I have been told by males and females alike.)
I DO value my freedom of life style, and being my own person, LOVE to demonstrate this in various ways. A dis-regard of the fawning local chaps, hoping to get lucky, my over short skirts, and stocking-tops. Tart that I am, and tease, but they love it and after a year here, now accept that I have none whatsoever interest in any of them sexually.
So, I live quietly, work hard in my office, enjoy the local watering hole and café to eat, and then home to my large 10” dildo and a lesbian video or two.

Last month, I met over supper in the local café, an English couple who had moved into the outskirts of my village, and of course, we got chatting….OH how relaxing it is to speak English again in conversation.
Alison and Jim were in their 30s and although arriving here, Jim worked around France in his work as a consultant in the marine/yachting sector. They were good to chat to, and noticed that Jim was slyly interested in my short tartan kilt and socking tops on show, when I crossed my legs. We started to meet regularly for “aperitifs” and really got on very nicely.

Whenever Jim had to go off to work, Alison and myself continued to meet in the local café and drink or eat supper together. Alison is VERY strait-laced, prim and proper, and told me that she was embarrassed by catching her husband “ogling” my legs, or sometimes down my blouse, and that he had wondered if she would ever wear stockings, like Jenni?
This, from Alison, was her message to me to tone it down with her husband, but it was like a red rag to a bull, and I had to tell her directly, that I was lesbian, and had no thoughts of her husband.
“Alison, you are more my type, than your husband” I told her, as she pushed away from me in her dining chair. No more was said on the subject, BUT, I started to get aroused at Alison’s child-like demeanour, and innocence. She blushed at the word “lesbian” and that aroused me. Heheee
No more was said, and after a few more suppers with the two of them, jim announced that he was off again for ten days to St. Nazaire on the Atlantic coast, and hoped that Alison and me would keep in touch and to keep an eye on her and the house.

Two days later, we bumped into each other in the local convenience store, and agreed to have supper in the café the following evening.
“Why not park here, and have an “apero” then walk down to the café from my house?”
Splendid was the reply and the date was on. Poor Alison, as my predatory ways started to kick in.
Alison arrived to have some rosé champagne, and did not know where to look as I bent over to pour her glass and my loose top must have exposed even more of my boobs than I had expected. “OOPS, sorry Alison, this top is a little looser than I thought, do excuse me”.
“Oh , I didn’t notice, but it is smashing, if a little revealing when you bend over.Did you buy it locally?”
“I bought it at the Saturday market in the centre of St.Tropez, which has some great bargains, if you are interested?” I replied as I sat down with my glass of bubbly, in my armchair opposite her.

Now I know that as I sat down and crossed my legs, she could not help to notice that my sheer black stockings were on show, and that during our chatting, my short tarten kilt would expose the tops and suspenders.
We chatted away, and whenever, I looked away, I sensed Alison’s eyes riveted to my skirt.
Every time I looked back at her, Alison would pull down the hem of her summer dress to cover her knees….. maybe it was a hint that I was not taking!
Another glass, and off we went, walking down to the local café, to be seated in a corner table away from the interested males around the bar.
I managed to get a couple of glasses of red wine into Alison, with our tapas, before we called for the bill.
It arrived with a complimentary glass of cognac, from Pierre, the owner.
“Oh go on, Alison, we are here on a beautiful warm evening in the South of France, even Johnny Depp and his partner, Vanessa, have not refused a drink from le Patron” I said to her, as she was about to refuse more alcohol.
“It is my shout tonight”, as I plucked the bill away and stood up to pay at the bar.

Well, silly me, as I walked away from her, and knowing that she was watching me, I dropped the tab, and bent down to pick it off the tiled floor. Bending from the waist, I knew my short skit would rise up, to fully expose my stocking tops, and a very bare bum, except for a black thong which cut deeply into by butt cheeks. I did not hurry from this position, and could almost hear a gasp from my dinner companion. Smiling naughtily to myself, I paid the bill, and returned to Alison, who seemed to be a little redder in the face than normal.
“Excuse me please but I must go to the ladies room before we leave” she murmured, and went off, to meet me outside where I could light a roll-up cigarette. I did wonder why she could not wait to go to the toilet until we got back to my place.