Fanchon's Book(32)

I undressed for freedom of movement and attacked the task vigorously. Eyes shut, Kristi lolled upon the bed, an inspiration in the nude; even while busy at the closet I stole glances at her and licked my covetous lips. The leg nearest me lay flat, lax, the knee of the other was drawn up in a rounded steeple, its flexuous thigh-curve luring my gaze downward to the exposed crest of hair. The palm of her hand covered her navel limply (or was she treasuring my kiss?) and its barely perceptible rise and fall concurred with her measured breathing, the only indication of life. But I knew she wasn't asleep, not in a pose so deliberately provocative; such a temptress! did she have any idea what that voluptuous vision was doing to me?

With ten-thumbed clumsiness, I hurried to finish my pedestrian chore and take on the next one, still a chore but far more pleasant, attending Miss Lazylegs in her bath. But her prolonged stillness was beginning to upset me; the half-full glass on the bedside table had gone untouched for quite some time now-and I decided to jog her back into wakefulness before I drew the tub. With all our things tucked away at last, I sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a kiss on her upraised knee.

"Fanchon?" Pale eyelids twitched and opened. "Oh, I must have dozed off. Did you get everything unpacked?"

"All done. Shall I fix your bath now?"

"Dh, not yet. I'm too tired to get up."

"Darling? You know I'm going to help you. Don't you want to be all nice and clean and sweet-smelling so that I can make love to you?"

"I-I suppose so. But I haven't finished my drink yet." She reached for her glass languidly. "Anyhow, we've got a whole week in front of us. Must you be so impatient?"

"Drink up, then. I'll wait. But don't you dare go to sleep on me."

"Okay, okay." Then, giggling through a sip and a swallow, "How could I fall asleep when you're panting like that? You sound like a doggie with its tongue hanging out."

"Like this?" Anything to keep her awake. and interested; I did the,appropriate dog-imitation. "See what a sensual bitch I am? Bow-wow. I'm a bitch in heat."

My comic performance brought a chuckle. But a vague wisp of memory cast its shadow: bitch in heat? I had called myself that once before; it hadn't seemed so funny then. Nor was it funny now. It was just me. Fanchon. With my tongue hanging out. The real Fanchon. Panting for Kristi and watching her mirth fade and leave an expression on her face that was strangely sad.

"Oh, my darling Fanchon, what have I done to you? The things you do to please me. Am I turning you into some kind of slave?" She shook her head slowly. "Sometimes I wish we had never started the-" Her teeth clamped her lip; she shrugged and shook her head again. "Oh, you know what I mean."

"Yes… " I heard the throb of my own heart. "I do know. But I'm glad we started. You mustn't feel guilty about it."

"You-you don't hate me?"

"I love you. Everything about you. The things you make me do. Everything. Kristi, don't you understand? You've made me a happy woman. And if you're turned me into a slave, then I'm a happy slave."

"Sweet… sweet Fanchon… "

"Not sweet. Sexy."

I bent and kissed the back of her hand. My tongue dabbed between the fingers, seeking the little belly bijou: but she tightened upon it protectively. Her body squirmed suggestively, though, and I sensed its burgeoning excitement; my lips trailed down her skin lingeringly in an attempt to nourish the flame and keep the pot boiling. But her hand made a quick leap and set up another, more intimate defense.