Fanchon's Book(54)

"Keep her? As a hired maid?"

"No, silly, you wouldn't have to pay her. She's such a simpleton; I can talk her into anything. I'll bet she'd be willing to work for free just to have a place to stay until that dumb-ox husband of hers comes to his senses."

"Hmm, well, I'll think it over. Later, though. Now what was it you said about waking up and feeling sexy?"

"Rosalba could have my room. I'll be in there with you anyway, won't I? And we'd have more time for each other if-"

"Darling, is it that important? Let her stay then, it doesn't really matter. Except that she-"

"Oh, you're so good to me, Fanchon. I guess I'm selfish, huh? You give me everything-and what do I ever give you in return?"

"Little one, you give me somebody to love. And that's all I've ever asked for. Just you… " I reached for the pale hand and squeezed it impulsively. "We'll keep Rosalba around, if you like. But I wouldn't want her to know too much about us. About what we do together, the crazy games and things; you do understand, don't you?"

"Umm, yes, you're right, it's best she doesn't know. Don't worry, I'll take care of that. Rosalba won't even suspect our secret. Hey, it's going to be fun just loafing all day long. And I'll get some hot reading done, too."

"Hot reading, eh? You'll probably be disappointed." I carried the delicate fingers to my lips again. "Books aren't as exciting as the real thing."

A conspiratorial twinkle lit her face. "Your book might be… " And with a little lilting chuckle of delight, she shook out of the negligee and tumbled into my arms. "My impatient Fanchon. You want some material for another Chapter?"

But no, it wasn't a time for new material, at least not that kind of material, the material of prurient perversities, of lust and lubricity, the material designed (hopefully!!!) to sell books. It was a time for love. A time for the subdued sweetness of making up after a quatreI; ah, how utterly unselfish were the embraces of my golden-haired divine goddess! How endearingly considerate the caresses she deigned to bestow upon her mortal idolatress! It was as if she had replaced the hair-shirt of my punishment with the silken-soft mantle of her all-absolving affection.

She made no demands. And yet-quite soon-I felt the urge to fulfill them, the unspoken demands; need they be said aloud to be acknowledged as the esoteric elixir that gave our alliance its very essence? Ours was no ordinary relationship. Just as Kristi was no ordinary servant. Nor I an ordinary housewife. Generous and forgiving as my loved one might me, she was still my glorious goddess-and I found myself kissing her feet. She liked that, even though she remained quiet. When I turned her over and started nibbling up into the sweet curve of her buttocks, she still didn't say a word. But I knew what she must have been thinking and it was true, so true, Fanchon, you're a sensual bitch! and I probed the darkly lewd gully and fixed upon the little puckered place and pried it open with the tip of my tongue and became the sensual bitch she wanted me to be; nor did she have to ask me or tell me or nudge me, no, I was already slavishly possessed with the desire to please-and I poked my tongue in and pulled it back into my mouth and got it wet and then did it again, over and over again, the in-and-out lubricating motion from my moist mouth to her moistening flesh, until everything became slick-smooth and slippery and at last I stuck my tongue deep into the body of my beloved and joined myself to her as if the seal of mouth and flesh made us one.

I could have stayed there forever, cherishing the moment, aware that it was all the more precious because of my night of exile. But there was yet another unspoken demand to fulfill. And only when I lowered my head and ducked under her belly and twisted around to nuzzle up into the succulent softness of her vulva did she finally break her silence. A moan. Then a whisper. Hot, soulful, inflammatory; such an inspiring whisper! It set me on fire with ecstatic devotion.