Fanchon's Book(6)

For a few days, then, I was better able to withstand the rigors of enforced abstinence as I went about my business. Not that such self-restraint came easily: after all, I had never been one to rate continence a virtue. Kristi occupied my mind if not my bed-although the two became whimsically synonymous in my fitful reveries and I probably raped the poor unsuspecting tyke a dozen times.

Less fanciful was the effect she had on my work. I couldn't concentrate. My creative ability fell into the sere, the yellow leaf; I stared at the blank paper on the platen and cursed the dry thought-buds that refused to blossom. Words failed me, and in the most literal and literary-of connotations. The typewriter keys smirked with a kind of knowing impudence, as if they were privy to my subconscious secrets, as if the machine itself was conveying the message that should have been obvious: at this particular point, my work was of secondary importance.

Actually, it wasn't very important to begin with. I had published a slim volume of poems and a few short stories that were received with creditable notice, but my writing still fell into the "housewife's hobby" category. Just something to while away the lonely hours. My husband, bless his heart, was always busy with government and politics and whatnot; aside from the necessary social functions and state dinners, we were seldom together. Besides, he too had a time-consuming hobby, one that struck me as rather droll for a man of his advanced age and station: Oliver collected erotica, all kinds of pornographic shockers-ancient and modern, classic and shoddy, books and manuscripts in many languages. He pored over them in his own bedroom, leaving me much to my own devices. So-like any restless young wife-I had branched out in other directions, giving vent to my penchant for poetry and fiction and some "whatnot" of my own.

But now even my literary outlet had forsaken me and there was no getting around that glaring fact. To hell with the typewriter then; Kristi came first. Until I got her into bed-successfully-I would know no peace.

A complex matter, though, in spite of Rosalba's optimistic opinion. Kristi was such a dewy young thing, so painfully innocent of sophistication, quite proper, really; that golden hair of hers might well have been a saintly halo-and untarnished, frustratingly enough. How does one go about plotting the downfall of an angel?

One begins.

Such a problem: aller Anfang ist schwer. After due deliberation I launched an attack upon her shyness, upon the air of meek modesty that I found so inhibiting. A tough target, true, but to me the keystone of her personality; if I could smash it, the rest of her would crumble and come tumbling into my hands. So I hammered away in that general direction, adopting an attitude of brazen familiarity in both speech and manner.

All to no avail. Under my barrage of bawdy talk, Kristi merely giggled and remained demure as ever-a bit of a paradox, considering how well she seemed to understand all the dirty words. Nor did she show any noticeable reaction to a more intimate contact with my body, performing her newly assigned tasks somewhat awkwardly but without much change in demeanor. She took care of my hair, she did my nails, she assisted while I dressed and undressed; yet it was always with those same downcast eyes, that same shrinking humility.

She stood in awe of me, I realized, and was probably still spellbound by the sexy spectacle I had presented on the chaise that first day. Maybe I was even some sort of goddess to her, not a flesh-and-blood woman but a sacrosanct idol to be worshiped only at a distance. Whatever the reason, I fretted in increasing exasperation over my failure to get through to the girl.

In a spate of impetuous audacity, I shed my last vestige of decorum and had her attend me in my bath. I actually flaunted my nudity. But again my effort went for naught; and I couldn't help but recognize that the entire affair was affecting me far more than it should. Such a silly mess. A grown woman playing peek-a-boo games with her skittish little maidservant.