Fanchon's Book(52)

And she thrust her face deep, mouthing frenetically, giving up any attempt at technical skill, gluing herself to my body; I heard her mumbling and I knew she was begging me not to move, begging with her mumbling lips and her clutching hands, begging me to stay right there in the bathroom. I couldn't understand her anxiety, but it was so, exactly so, that was the way she wanted to make love to me. Another strange obsession, perhaps? Or maybe it was just a different version of the same obsession, maybe it was still the dirt-and-degradation thing and the bathroom was Rosalba's dungeon; yes, that simplified it somewhat and I remembered the night in the hotel, that first night, the time when we played piggyback and I carried her to the bathroom and set her down on the toilet and-oh, but that was Kristi, not Rosalba, and I didn't want to think about Kristi, I wanted to think about Rosalba and how she was sucking me, the adoring maid sucking the indulgent mistress, only it was already too late and I could feel myself getting hot and it wasn't because of Rosalba and what she was doing, no, it was Kristi Kristi Kristi and just thinking about her was enough and I knew I had lost the fight and she owned me. Body and soul she owned me, and if she walked in and snapped her fingers right now I would do it-just like that night-I would fall to the floor and lift her foot and kiss it and put it down on my neck and prove to her that I was forever her slave, her humble slave, her passionate slave, and I would love her and love her and love her and.then it would happen. It was happening now. Orgasm. The crisis at last! and I labored mightily against Rosalba's helpful head but didn't fail to give credit where credit was due; nor did I feel cocky any more, good grief, no, I had all kinds of regrets. My foolish independence had dwindled to nil. I had been caught cheating-and there was no trumped-up fortitude stiffening my spine now, only a strength-sapping shiver of fear and foreboding. Caught. Caught in the act. How sorely would I be made to suffer for my indiscretion?




Chapter 16

Body and soul, that was how I belonged to her-and later in the evening I screwed up sufficient courage to go and say it. And to take my bitter medicine, whatever she cared to dole out, whatever would put us in harmony again; oh yes, I was-quite prepared to suffer for my sin.

Her attitude surprised me, though; she seemed slightly cool but far from incensed. Mildly amused, rather, and there was even a faint smile on her face as I admitted my guilt and declared my undying love and blurted out the whole bewildering mishmash about Oliver leaving so suddenly and Rosalba showing up at the front door and pitching in to help with the packing and then taking advantage of my distracted state of mind by insisting on serving me further and cadging an invitation to stay the night; not that the turmoil and confusion justified my shameful conduct, no, I could only unburden my conscience and hope for clemency.

I must have sounded pretty penitent. Remorseful and apologetic enough to avert a vendetta, at least; anyway, the anticipated recriminations just didn't materialize…

"So now you expect to be punished, eh, Fanchon?"

"Well… I-I guess I deserve it."

"No doubt. I ought to beat your bottom with a leather strap. But what good would it do?" Her lips twisted in a little, grin of mockery. "Besides, you'd probably love it."

"Then you're not angry? Oh, darling… "

"Here now, none of that." She brushed away my impetuous gesture, allotting me only her hand to kiss. Then, almost musingly, "Still, it wouldn't be right to let you off scot-free. Maybe I'll banish you, huh?"

"B-banish me?"

"Hmm, yes, it's an interesting idea. Let's give it a try, just a short one. Consider yourself banished, Fanchon. You can't make love to me tonight. I don't want to see you till tomorrow. That's a fair punishment, isn't it?"