Thursday, October 27, 2011

Chapter 15:Hands Free Orgasm:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth


I am awakened by the rising sun through the window. I turn over wanting Lily as usual, but she is not there. This is strange. She must have gotten up, and she probably went to the big house, the one of my parents. When I gave them the first 50,000 they built the house they had always wanted. My father built much of it with his own hands, using help from his neighbors and friends, and stone building materials available locally. It is typical of the area. Not really large, but comfortable. Their old cottage where I grew up is now where Lily and I have been staying.

I dress and walk up to the house, entering the kitchen quietly. Lily and my mother are preparing food. Lily is plucking a chicken and the feathers are in a pile on the table. She turns and sees me and says, “I seem to have an affinity for feathers,” and then laughs softly and huskily, looking into my eyes.

“Lily,” and I gaze at her in this unexpected activity she is participating in.  Her eyes widen, grow dark and her body trembles and convulses slightly and I immediately see what is happening. I close the distance between us, take her hand and say, “Come. I want to show you something.”

Outside the door I push her up against the side of the house and hold her tight. My left hand is around her neck holding the side of her face into my neck and shoulder and my right hand cups her ass hard and I pull her to me. She feels my desire and shivers, shudders and convulses again. I hold her as tight as I can.

“Lily, Lily, what have I done to you. I am sorry, so sorry. But really I am not. To see you express this level of desire for me is overwhelming. I feel so complete. To hold you like this is more than I had ever dreamed I could feel.”

“When you came in and said my name I just dissolved. It was as if you were in me telling me ‘wait, wait, wait’ and I could not. I am still shuddering for you this minute. I cannot contain the feelings. I cannot hold them in and pretend I am not feeling them. They are too strong, too strong.”

I pick her up and carry her to the rustic bench under the trees and hold her, murmuring and kissing her throat, her face, her arms, and I do not stop. She clings to me, holding me as if she will never let me go. If she does, I won’t let her.

“Did you know about this? Have you ever…..?” She stops, becomes quiet and just looks into my eyes.

“Yes and no,” I say.

“How?” Tell me.

“It began when I was a child. Of course my friends and I were typical boys, we indulged in some bestial sex and soon got around to wondering about doing it with each other. We were too young for girls unless we could find an older girl who would show us how. So we wanted to be experienced and played at it with each other.

“Of course it was very intense in feeling, but we dared not let on and show that we felt that much. So we laughed, joked around, and pretended it was not a momentous thing. I, of course, would never have admitted what I felt, but then I also realized then that our fathers had done the same with their friends, before they found girls and grew out of it. It was like a secret that no one could admit even to themselves, but that bound the boys and men together the rest of their lives. The fact that they had enjoyed each other.

“To escape all this rustic poverty and uneventful life, I went into the military and I saw it there, but with young men it had changed in significance. Some men indulged but were very secretive about it. I could see which ones just by observing them with each other in off duty times. I held myself aloof from it.

“Then when I went to Algeria, saw the Middle East, became acquainted with a different culture, it was clear to me how adolescent boys and even men had relationships with each other that were sexual. None of them seemed troubled by it or even tried to hide it. Naturally I was curious as I had remembered how I felt when an adolescent.

“I became friends with a young Arab man and we smoked hashish together and then one time we drifted into sex with each other. It was pure pleasure, with no feelings of tying oneself to another, just an indulgent pleasure each could  give the other. It was a different experience. No guilt when contemplating it and no need to have to have that person, to keep that person. Just simple pleasure. When we separated, it was without any sorrow or loss, just two friends having to say goodbye when I left the area.

“The women there were either unavailable or prostitutes. There was nothing in between. You could not be friends with a woman, spend any time with her. If you were with her, then you must be having sex.

Of course the prostitutes were very experienced in ways western women are not. They have been cut genitally when they enter puberty to control their sexuality. To compensate, they develop their internal muscles in such a way as to enhance the man’s pleasure while intensifying their own. It is very subtle and very effective. Belly dancing and The Dance of the Seven Veils derive from this practice.

“When I returned to Paris I was intent on making something of myself and despairing that I would be able to do so. Such erotic things were far from my mind and what little contact I had with women was with typical prostitutes  in Paris.

“When I entered the social scene I found women were available to me. I had a few mistresses and Clo, a delightful creature from Bohemia, light and fun, and adventurous began to try to initiate me into anal eroticism. And it was then I saw how intense it was for the woman. Clo became wildly enthusiastic, but not too long after I found my wife cheating on me, cuckholding me in fact, and I set her up with her lover, caught her with witnesses, and divorced her. Then I ruined her lover with journalistic articles and he had to resign from his government post.

Right after that I kidnapped Suzanne, with her exuberant help, and married her. Clo was furious and we terminated our affair in a rather brutal way I am ashamed of. I don’t want secrets from you Lily, but neither do I want to tell you all the details. If you need to hear them I will. Do you?”

“No, no, I don’t. This is almost too much. It’s that I want to hear, but I don’t want to listen to you say it.

"How is it that you are a Baron? Your parents are simple, hard working, not nobility?"

"Madeleine wanted a title. She planned how we were going to do it before we married, so she could have my title, our title, on the wedding announcements. My title is completely fabricated. It is a pretend title, but without it the Duchess of Beltshire would never have confided in me about you, and she would never have assisted me as she did. Any you, my darling, would not have been nearly so impressed."

"It did not matter to me, but it mattered greatly to my so called friends in New York. they stamped on each other's toes to have outlandish events, so as to impress you with their invitations."

"And the only thing that impressed me was you."

"Tell me more."

“On my wedding day Clo was in the reception line greeting me and we both knew we would start up again. We did. Suzanne was pregnant almost immediately and her mother, Madame Walter, influenced her to be chaste while she was carrying a child. She acquiesced to her mother’s advice concerning pregnancy.”

“Were you ever……. I mean…..with Virginie?”

“Virginie! You call her Virginie!”

“Yes. She asked me to do so, when we are alone with each other. She said it was more fitting in front of Tav and when we discussed him. Do you mind?”

“No. Of course not. I am astonished. She has not spoken to me once since she found out I was marrying her daughter. I cannot believe she is any more forgiving of you for taking her place.”

“I don’t think she thinks of it like that. But you didn’t answer my question. But maybe I should not have asked it.”

“Lily, you can ask me anything you want to know. Yes. Yes, Madame Walter and I had an affair. She was obsessed with me. I could not find a way out of it. Her obsession was tiring, then almost frightening, she was so hysterical. I had no idea how I would ever break with her, and her husband was my employer. But when I married Suzanne it all became settled very abruptly.”

“Yes. I see that it would,” Lily said.

“Do you hate me for this?”

“I can’t even imagine how or what hating you would be. How could I? I don’t think it would be possible. If you found someone else, then I still could not. How could I deny you what you wanted. You have given me everything because you have given me yourself.

Besides,” and Lily smiles radiantly, “I still have your heart in a safe and secret place, so how could you possibly find it to give to another?” and she laughs lightly. “It is no longer in my hand where you might be able to pry it from me.”

“It is yours forever. My heart will never belong to anyone else.” And then I think of Tav and our coming child and I have to revise my thoughts.

“What are you thinking?”

“That you will have to make some of it available for our children. Will you?”

“Oh,” she says, “oh, yes, I will, I will,” and she holds me even tighter. "Please, please, promise me...."

"What. Promise you what?"

"Please," Lily says.

"Anything. Just tell me. Anything."

"I want to give birth to our baby here, here in the country, where your parents are. Here. I want you to deliver our baby. You."

"NO," I scream, "no, you cannot here. This is not the safest place for you. I cannot do that. I am not a doctor. ! No, a thousand no's!"

"You promised. Anything."

"Yes, but I had no idea!"

"You didn't add any conditions."

Oh my god, she has done it again, completely boxed me between Scylla and Charybdis. She always does this. I can never win with her. I know she will have her way and I cannot bear it. Now I must be careful.

"Look Lily," I say, "it would be too dangerous. I have no experience. I cannot risk you. I could not survive it if anything happened to you. Please, don't ask this of me. I cannot. You need to be in Paris. With trained doctors and nurses, just in case."

"But they won't let you be there for me. You will have to wait outside and I can't bear that."

"But they are experts. You will be taken care of by the best."

"Suzanne died, didn't she? Didn't she have the best?"

Oh god, she has me. I cannot refute her logic. I know now she will have her way.

"I will find expert midwives here. They will deliver you."

"You must be with me. Only you can help me. But you may have them there just to feel more comfortable yourself. But you have to be right by my side, right with me the whole time. Promise me you won't leave me for a minute. Promise! Promise me now while I have you!"

"Yes. You have my word. I could not have it otherwise."

"And you have delivered foals and lambs and calves, so you are not inexperienced."

"My god, Lily,They are animals, they are different from our child."

"No, no they are not. Really they are not."

"I promise. I will not leave your side."

As if anything could tear me away.

Chapter 14:Torture:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Brancusi - Kiss

As I enter her I move my hands down her body, stopping at her breasts, her nipples, her cunt. I cup it with my palm and put my finger inside and she is wet and hot and ready for me.

“Oh, Lily, I feel your desire. I want you so much, but I am going to take all afternoon with you. The first time we do this will be the most intense.You will tremble, pulse, throb, convulse, but I will have to constantly hold back, control myself to last for you.

I push in a little more, very slowly. As soon as I feel her resistance I stop and pull back until my head rests against her resistant membrane muscle and nerve bundle, gently pushing until I feel her ripple and flutter. I push one millimeter more and her intensity increases. I hold myself there, gently pull back and feel her tighten her muscles to stop me. I breathe slowly, carefully so I can keep in control. This is going to be far more difficult than I imagined.

I quiet myself and she decreases her fluttering and calms, then I push  a little more against her and she is immediately throbbing again. Then she can’t stop. “Let go Lily, just let go, now.” And she eases and I am feeling her giving away and all her muscles convulse and her pelvis contracts and bucks and I hold her very very tightly. I moan as I feel her and she gasps for breath and almost screams.

“That is just the beginning, Lily. I will spend hours going deeper and deeper into you.” I put my lips on her neck and hum to her and her ragged breathing begins to calm. Then I push in a little more, just enough for her to expect me to go further, but I don’t.

“Please, please, Georges, I can’t stand this, please.” She writhes and twists but I hold her fast. I pull out a little and her muscles grasp me, and she says, “No, no, no don’t, don’t do that, no please…..” But she can say no more because the intensity is building up again and she can’t breathe calmly enough to speak. So she moans and whimpers. I am approaching the edge, so I have to slow down to calm myself. I push in a little more and become very still and force myself to breathe slowly and deeply.

“Oh god, oh god,” she says I never imagined…….” And she pushes against me but I pull back when she does this. Then I push against her ass to stop her.

“Lily, Lily I say, “please don’t hurry this, please don’t hurry. Slow down.” I don’t know if I am asking her or myself to move slower. I can barely stand this intensity.

I move forward again until I press against her next band of resistance, just lightly pressing as I feel her flutter again. Only this time she knows what is coming and anticipates the feelings that she can hardly contain. Her throbbing and pulsing increases and she dissolves in more convulsions and contractions.

“Oh, oh oh oh…….” And then she cannot say anything more as she just gives way to feelings. “Lily I moan into her ear, my Lily. My perfect Lily.” And then I move towards her next clot of resistant muscles and nerves that form yet another sliver of a band in her anus. “I feel you I say, there is no rush, we have many more to go. I feel deep inside you drawing me, drawing me."

“I can’t stand it. I will never be able to bear this,” she says. “Ohhhhhhhh….” And she begins to pulse as I push in slightly more then pull back and she gives way as I enter yet more deeply into her. And then the convulsions and contractions begin again and her entire body is trembling and shivering from deep inside her and I can feel it all and I don’t know how I can stop myself. But somehow I do, and then I just still and wait until she calms again. I am groaning softly and constantly. I want to just forget about this and take her wildly.

But the throbbing and contractions of her anus her vaginal walls, her stomach, her entire body will bring every single muscle, tendon, fascia into her awareness. This will ensure that she will have a birth that will be natural, uncomplicated by fear of a body she doesn't understand fully.

We both quietly breathe at the edge of a precipice and we both want to let go and go over it. “We can you know. I don’t have to torture you all afternoon doing this. But I love doing it to you and to me.”

“I love it too,” Lily says. Please, please, don’t stop now, just a little longer.”

“Yes,” I say, “yes, yes, yes.” And I move deeper into her and rest again at her next band of resistance. “Oh, Lily, I feel you holding against me, and now I feel you easing, knowing the release that is coming, the pleasure, the throbbing, let go, let go.” And she convulses once more deeper and more totally than before. I am beginning to lose it. If I don’t slow I will come undone. I gasp for breath, and breathe slower and slower until I get some control. But it is slipping, it is slipping. I am on the edge now and cannot retreat.

“I love you,” I say. “I want to love you until the shadows lengthen. It seems like a time far away now. I want to last that long. I don’t know how I can ever do it. I love feeling you tremble deep inside your body, all around me and in my arms, your quivering and shaking and moaning. I want to last to keep feeling you do that." Oh god, how can I?

Now she falls apart again and pushes back just a little into me and starts all over again. I groan and tighten my hold on her to still myself while she shakes and trembles and quivers all over outside and deep within. Now she can’t stop anymore and her muscles begin to pull me in and I give in and enter more deeply. Oh, god, I never expected this.

Now I push another millimeter deeper. I feel her pull from deep inside luring me in. “You want me deeper, don’t you, Lily. I can feel you trying to entice me deeper, your pull that I can’t feel but only sense. How deep do you want me Lily?”

“As deep as you can possibly be inside me. Yes, I feel tiny quivering  sensations deep inside myself. Oh god, I need you there, there, please please and she begins to shudder again.” I breathe raggedly as I hold on. She is still trying to hold me from deep inside her and I want to be there.

How will I ever last to continue going so slowly….,” I whisper. I am trembling all over.

And finally later, much later I am fully inside her, feeling the last place of resistance inside her. Her deep membranes are trembling and pulling me. I cannot get deeper, but then I spread her cheeks and push that last little bit. I place my hand over her cunt, push my fingers into her while my thumb pushes hard on her clit. She gives and screams, and I completely let go inside her filling her, my semen hitting her passageway so hard she shudders and screams my name over and over and over, completely convulsing, tightening all her muscles until they feel like steel under my hands and then she lets go of everything.

“Georges, Georges, Georges,” she whispers.

I tell her, “I want to take you back to the cottage, tie you to the bed so you can’t move, so my hands and mouth are free, and start all over again.”

I can’t wait,” she whispers hoarsely. “Promise. Promise me, please, please, promise me.”

“I promise. I give you my word on that.” And I kiss her hard and thoroughly.

And I have no idea how all this happened. I am way out in deep water.

Chapter 13:Fishing:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth


Lily and I are walking through the meadow to the spring fed pond to catch some fish. The little ones that we can deep fry in olive oil and eat heads, bones and all. Tiny ones that are so delicious. She has never tasted them like this, fresh from the water. The sun is up and it is warm on our faces. I feel as I did when a child here. We are carrying a hamper with a picnic lunch in it, a blanket and I have a fishnet. It promises to be a lovely day. Lily is lighthearted as we listen to the insects in the field grasses and I hold her hand, happy to be with her like this, with no one else around to share her with.

We pass through the trees surrounding the water and it is cool and secluded here as we watch the movement of small creatures in the water. I spread the net over the surface and as the net becomes heavy with water, it sinks lower and lower until it is lying on the bottom. We sit on the bank and watch as little silvery fish swim up to it and nibble.

After awhile they are accustomed to it and swim over it looking for insects to catch. In an hour or so there is a school of fish on the surface and I begin  to close my trap by pulling up the corners slowly so as not to frighten them away. As the edges fold up and I slowly lift the net higher, the fish swim around still unsuspecting.

“Oh, look,” says Lily. “Now they know they are caught!” They have begun swimming anxiously. Just barely suspecting, then knowing that they have been caught, when they cannot swim off the edges.

I pull it up and close it getting ready to heave it onto the grass. Still concentrating on the net I say, “When did you know you were caught, Lily?” And I turn and look at her.
Her eyes widen and darken as she looks at me. “Are you asking if I am right now, or are you asking about the first time?”

Surprised, I laughingly say, “Both.” I turn back to the silvery fishes.

“When did you know you were caught?” She asks.

Still securing the fishes I say, “When you gave me your two endings to my story. You had accomplished the secret of journalism in a flash, which is to assert one thing while suggesting another, or to negate one thing but imply its opposite. In other words, never to be direct. I was dumbfounded, furious, and madly in love with you from that moment. I wanted to kill you. I had not intended to be caught by you.”

I heave the net onto the grass and turn back to her. I am dumbfounded all over again. She has taken off her skirt and has nothing on under it, and is unbuttoning the last button on her blouse, shifting it off her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare, standing there looking at me with her Wellington boots on. I groan aloud and close the distance between us, grabbing her and falling on the ground with her. She reaches for my pants and I slip them off, enter her quickly and feel her come as I enter, and then I completely let go in her like a seventeen year old boy with a rural girl and no experience.

“My god, Lily! What have I done to you? What have you done to me? I never intended this. How did this happen?” I kiss and lick her face all over, her mouth, her eyes, her neck and slide down to her breasts where I suck her nipples.

“I take an American Cinderella dressed for the ball in exquisite clothes and I bring her to the country, put her in peasant clothes and violate her in the fields like a wench. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Lily laughs her new throaty laugh. “I love it,” she says. “I never had a childhood like this. I shall make up for it. You can be my playmate. I think Cathy and Heathcliff spent lots of time playing like this, don’t you?”

I’m not paying attention. “Hmmmmm. I am sure of it now.” I nuzzle her neck, biting it and waiting to get hard again so I can ravish her more slowly in the warm sun under the blue sky. I lift my face and hold her face between my hands and look deeply into her eyes.

“So tell me, when did you know you were caught the first time?”

“When you said,  'Tell me now Lily. Yes or not. Now. Tell me now.' And I looked at the frozen faces and I knew I was ruined again. Somehow I would always do something, or be in a situation where I would be ruined. It would be inevitable. It was just like the time in Italy with Prince Verigliano, all the faces that became blank to me after he and his step-son began to fight over me. I knew none of it was my fault, but I would be blamed for it. I had no more resistance to you. I would have fallen in your arms right then, but I was still so unable to  behave any other way than what was expected. And you, you were so spontaneous, so uninhibited, so fully yourself, not under anyone else’s control, that I just knew I could never want anyone else.”

“You are making me free now. I love it. I love you. Have I told you that yet today? I love you,” she murmurs darkly.

“You haven’t told me enough today that you love me. I want more.”

I bring her back into my arms before I get up and spread the blanket under us. Then I hold her tightly and begin to fondle her again. I put my lips all over her, kissing and tonguing her, tasting her until I think I can’t get enough. I move my fingers around her ass and I feel her tense, so I still my fingers.

“I’ve been wanting you to touch me that way for so long now. I thought you never would again. I was getting ready to plead, to beg you to do that. Please, please, don’t stop.”

And my god, I am so ready for her. I wet myself with my semen and her juices, smear myself with them, wet my fingers and begin to enter her. She moans with pleasure and I place my cock at her entrance and begin to push. She is still so tight, but so ready now.

“Be still Lily. It will be very different this time, but just as wonderful. But very very slow, so you will feel so intensely, you will want to crawl out of your skin. You will feel so much more this time. I will take all afternoon torturing you.”

Do you promise?” she moans and whimpers. And now she is in for it. 

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Chapter 12:Train Ride To Rouen:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Monet - The Gare Saint Lazare

Diderot: “Bring your lips to mine / so that out of my mouth / my soul may pass into yours” (Chanson dans le goût de la romance). From Sasha and the Silverfish  

Lily and I are on the train now and it is beginning to move. The compartment takes half a car and is luxurious, quite different from the last time I took this journey. I put those thoughts from my mind and look at Lily.

Lily removes her coat and she is wearing a new dress, simple, made of a very fine, soft cotton with tiny flowers in an overall pattern. I admire her and say, “You look lovely in that dress. I haven’t seen it before on you.”

“No, I just had my final fitting a few days ago and I wanted to have it for the country. Your Paris dressmakers are everything they are reputed to be. Really mine is a wonder. She understands just the simplicity and cut I want. Maybe I will open a couture house with her.” And she laughs softly in that new throaty, slightly hoarse laugh of hers.

My favorite tendril of hair has come loose again and is teasing me. I reach out to touch her and fondle her through my fingers. Listen, you must go back with the others again. I will try to tuck you in and fasten you securely so you will stay. I tuck her back behind Lily's ear and wind her in the coil at Lily's neck. Then I pat her and and smooth her.

Lily leans forward taking a cigarette from her case. I light it for her. She draws the smoke in lovingly and slowly before she exhales. This is the first time I have been with her when she is smoking in public although our own car is not really public.

It is mid afternoon and as we slide out of Paris the countryside begins to open up and I watch Lily watching the beauty of the unfolding landscape. She is raptly looking and she sighs. Then she looks at me, smiling slowly.

After awhile she says, “Read some more of Wuthering Heights to me, please, would you?  Or would you like me to read to you?”

We have been reading it together. Mostly I read to her so as to practice my pronunciation, but I prefer to listen to her.  So I get the book out and begin and soon we are lost in the story of Heathcliff and Cathy. Cathy is dangerously ill in childbirth, and I know she will die, but Lily as yet does not know the end. I reach the part about the feathers and I look at her feeling desire for her, as I remember our wedding night, so very different from the one I spent with Madeleine on this same train journey.

Tossing about, she increased her feverish bewilderment to madness, and tore the pillow with her teeth; then raising herself  up all burning, desired that I would open the window. We were in the middle of winter, the wind blew strong from the north-east, and I objected. Both the expressions flitting over her face, and the changes of her moods, began to alarm me terribly; and brought to my recollection her former illness, and the doctor's injunction that she should not be crossed.  A minute previously she was violent; now, supported on one arm, and not noticing my refusal to obey her, she seemed to find childish diversion in pulling the feathers from the rents she had just made, and ranging them on the sheet according to their different species: her mind had strayed to other associations.

That’s a turkey’s, she murmured to herself; and this is a wild duck’s; and this is a pigeon’s.  Ah, they put pigeons’ feathers in the pillows _ no wonder I couldn’t die! Let me take care to throw it on the floor when I lie down.  And here is a moor-cock’s; and this _ I should know it among a thousand _ it’s a lapwing’s. Bonny bird; wheeling over our heads  in the middle of the moor. It wanted to get to its nest,  for the clouds had touched the swells, and it felt rain coming. This feather was picked up from the heath, the bird was not shot; we saw its nest in the winter, full of little skeletons.  Heathcliff set a trap over it, and the old ones dare not come. I made him promise he’d never shoot a lapwing after that, and he didn’t. Yes, here are more! Did he shoot my lapwings, Nelly? Are they red, any of them? Let me look.

“Give over with that baby-work!” I interrupted, dragging the pillow away, and turning the holes towards the mattress, for she was removing the contents by handfuls. “Lie down and shut your eyes; you’re wandering. There’s a mess! The down is flying about like snow.”

Lily interrupts. “Do you know Shakespeare?” she asks.

“No, no I don’t. Not yet.”

I think I remember Ophelia’s speech. We had to memorize it in classes. Ophelia has fallen in love with Prince Hamlet and he is playing with her affections. He begins to seduce her, and she is already in love with him.  But her father wants her to play hard to get, to not be too available lest the Prince take advantage of her.  Then he begins to be hostile to her, saying she should get herself to a nunnery and behaves very cold and ambiguous to her, as madness creeps up on him, or he pretends to be mad.

“What you were doing to me in New York.”

“Yes, a little, but he is very cruel.”

“You were very cruel.” She arches her eyebrow at me and smiles enigmatically, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with me.

“She begins to become unhinged, slightly mad, then more and more so.”

“Ah yes, I know how that feels.” Again she looks at me almost puzzled, then with oncoming desire, as her eyes darken in the fading light from the window.

So when Ophelia becomes completely mad, she enters with a bouquet of flowers and speaks. I am sure Emily Bronte knew this speech of Ophelia’s in Hamlet and is mirroring it with Cathy’s madness. I wonder how you will see it.

And Lily begins to recite it to me.

Oph. They bore him barefac’d on the bier;
          Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny:
          And in his grave rain’d many a tear;_

Fare you well my dove!

“You must sing, Down a- down, an you call I a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master’s daughter.”

“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.”  And Lily pretends to pick single flowers from an imaginary bouquet.

Oph. There’s fennel for you, and columbines: _ there’s rue for you; and here’s some for me: we may call it, herb of grace o’Sundays: _you’may wear your rue with a difference _ There’s a daisy: I would give you some violets; but they withered all when my father died. _ They say, he made a good end, _

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead;
Go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.

And oh my god, I am undone. “Lily.” I say hoarsely, “Lily.” We are drowning in each other’s eyes, and she crosses over to me and sits in my lap, then twists around so she is straddling me. I am astonished that she would do such a thing and I grab her waist to hold her tight against me so she won’t change her mind as to its improperness.

My hands reach under her skirts and oh my god she is not wearing any bloomers, just sheer nakedness under her clothes. I catch my breath and look into her eyes, as she smiles at me.

“I thought maybe….maybe…. I wouldn’t want to be encumbered… case….in case….”, and then she moans as I feel her hotness and wetness and I am out of control, kissing her and feeling her and wanting her. Caution disappears out the window and flies away.

I am breathing heavily as I undo my pants, sliding them down as I lift her up and place her on me in a perfect position for entering her. I feel I cannot wait, cannot stop, cannot prolong this, so I try to breathe slower, to time my breathing with hers. She has her mouth on my neck, saying, “Yes, yes, please, now, please, I need you so much now, right now….” And she begins to whimper.

I enter her and slide slowly in, deeper and deeper until I am buried inside her. The sound and movement of the wheels of the train increase momentum and drive me mad. I lift her up a little then push down on her shoulders hard. She screams softly against my neck then looks into my eyes. We are both breathing faster and faster now.

She moves forward, then back, then forward again, then begins to twist her body throwing her head back, closing her eyes. She returns to me looking me deeply in the eyes before she stops breathing, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I can’t wait, I…I…I…I can’t , I can’t, I can’t “ and she begins to pulse, then throb and she is so close I can’t stand it. I thrust up into her, then I lift her and slam her down on me hard, and I pour into her shaking and moaning as I feel her letting go and shuddering, shivering , trembling all over. I keep her right where she is as we return to the world together. Quietly breathing I kiss her softly, longingly, my mouth open against hers, breathing into her mouth, feeling my soul passing into her.

Ma belle parfaite Lily,” I say.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Chapter 11:Lily and Gustav:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth:

Cy Twombly - Coronation

Lily has just walked into the room. She comes over to me and touches my hair, then looks as if she is beginning to tell me something when Gustav runs into the room.

“Maman Maman! Ma belle amie! Regarde!”He holds up his closed hand.

He rushes at Lily throwing himself at her and she picks him up laughing at him. “Oh, mon fils, mon bel ami,” she says.

I gasp at the choice of their words. Then she leans into him and places her lips on his neck, closing her eyes and kissing him softly. I feel a lurch in my stomach and god in heaven, I am jealous of my own son!

Lily kisses his closed hand and then smiles, saying, “What a lovely story you wrote today. Your English is parfait and your French also of course. I wish mine were as good as yours.”

“Bientot ma belle amie, soon,” he says.

“All this mixing of French and English in the same sentence, I don’t know about that. I hope it doesn’t confuse the two of you,” I say.

They turn to me with mischievous eyes, laughing at me. I scowl at them.

“Oh, oh,"  Lily says, “we had better behave ourselves. Run now and eat your lunch that your grandmother has fixed for you.”

She comes over to me again and says, “Quel est le probleme?

“I am jealous of my own son,” I say. “When I saw you kissing him, your lips open on his neck, your eyes closed, a knife went through me.”

Lily laughs and laughs a low throaty laugh that I have not heard before. A new laugh. She raises one eyebrow at me.

“If you raise your eyebrow like that you will get a crease in your forehead that won’t rub out.”

She laughs again. “Ah, but it doesn’t matter now. I have already captured my husband. That advice is only for those still hunting.”

“I am thinking myself about jealousy. I expect I am going to experience it soon.”

I look at her in amazement. “Surely you don’t think…….” And she shushes me with her finger to my lips.  Well, Tav has been asking for a little sister, no, begging for a little sister. And one has been coming to me night after night in my dreams, and I have just found out that she will come to us. I dreamed her into existence.” And she smiles joyously at me.

“Lily, no no no! You can’t be serious. Please tell me it’s all a mistake, that you didn’t say that, that it isn’t true!” I am frantic with fear. She cannot be pregnant. She cannot, she cannot. “Lily, I cannot risk you. I wouldn’t survive it!”

Lily continues to smile happily, saying, “Women throughout time have had babies. Would you deny me, deny us? I am overjoyed. I wished this child into being for us. Please be happy with me, please. Please don’t spoil this moment for me, for us.”

“Lily, I am terrified.” I pull her into my lap and hold her so tight. “I cannot be without you. I cannot.”

I am not going to die, Georges. Yes, I know Suzanne did, but I am not Suzanne. I cannot leave you. I cannot. I will not. And that’s that. I have never known what it is to be so happy. You have changed my life completely. When I think of your scene and my utter horror at all those blank faces listening to your outburst, I can only laugh now in joy. What if you had not lost your temper, lost your control? Where would we or I be now? And your doing this has permitted me to lose all my control, although not in front of a crowd of people.” And she looks darkly at me.

“Please be happy with me. If you are worried then so will I be. That will not be good. You must forget about fear. I have lived with it far too long. I know what it does. It stops you from living and you forget that it has stopped you and you begin to survive, forgetting that you have forgotten. To live fully is to risk.

"I tremble when I think of how I love you, how I love our son, how very dangerous it is to love that much, and I choke up and feel I cannot move, that I cannot let either one of you out of my sight. But I must not allow my feelings to dampen my happiness, our happiness depends on my not allowing that. Now my happiness, our happiness, Tav’s happiness, our daughter’s happiness depend on your not allowing that fear to enter your heart.

Anyway it can’t enter your heart because I won’t let it. I am holding it, remember,” and she holds up her closed hand so I can see it, so I can know that I am safe.

I pull her to me, and my favorite little lock of her hair is loose again, so I scold her and tell her to stay with her sisters in the coil of hair, that I am busy now and cannot keep folding her back in. I kiss her hair, her face, her neck and her lips.

“Shall we go upstairs to our apartment?” I ask. “Now I won’t have to think about tricking you so as to be careful anymore. No use now.” And I smile at her looking deep into her eyes. 

I see them darken and I will not frighten her with my fear.

Tu es parfaite pour moi et pour Tav.

“I have a favor to ask,” says Lily.

“What,” I say cautiously, knowing I may get trapped again. “Tell me what you want. I will try to give it to you.”

“Ah, you are being more careful about your promises, now, so I will be more careful. You see I want to visit your parents, that part of France where you grew up. Do you suppose I could meet them? They are going to have a new grandchild, and I think it might be a happy occasion for them to know.”

“You are asking very diplomatically, aren’t you, Lily? Suzanne never met them. They have never met Tav, as you have gotten me calling him now. He was named Gustav after Flaubert, you know. But you are right, it is a heavy name for such a little boy.” I am trying to distract her now.

“Hmmmm. You are being  very careful, my husband. Shall I ask again?”

“I don’t want to take you there. I gave in to Madeleine and took her there right after we were married. I told her it wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted, just like you are doing now, only much more firmly. And when we were there she was appalled at the rustic primitiveness of the place, of my parents, of the surrounding forest that frightened her, and wanted to return immediately. My mother hated her. My mother is a simple, very hard working woman, who is foreign to anything you have known. She will be polite to you, but she will not be welcoming.”

“Oh, now you are comparing me to Madeleine. Will I ever get these ex-wives out of your mind! I am not Madeleine. I want to meet her. I want to know her. She is your mother. She raised you, and I am grateful for the way she did.”

“No, who I am now was a result of the women I have known in Paris. They took all the rough edges off me and then began to polish me. I was happy to put myself in their hands, to transfer my will over to them. They have made me who I am. Who I was when I first knew them would never have interested you at all.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know. And I do not want to explain or convince you. You cannot imagine how crass I was and I do not want to relive myself in that guise even in words.”

“How did we get in this conversation? I just asked a simple question, a simple request. Please. Please let us go visit. Please keep an open mind about me.”

“Ah, Lily, how can I say no when you ask like that. You always get your way with me. Yes, yes, we will go. We can take the train to Rouen. I will book a large private compartment for us, maybe even a full car as it will be an overnight journey. But if you are the least bit uncomfortable, then we will leave and come home. I will not have you feel  anxious, especially not now. And my lock of hair has escaped again and wishes me to touch her." I reach out to touch Lily’s face, and tuck my curl into its coil again. “Do not worry little one, tonight you can be free again. Just wait. Be patient. I love you.” And I kiss her hair.


Friday, October 7, 2011

Chapter 10:Lily meets Gustav:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Cy Twombly - Cold Stream

We are waiting in the reception area for my son Gustav to meet Lily. He enters and looks at her. Lily catches her breath. He is so like me. His eyes, his hair, the expression on his face, the way he regards her.

“You are my new Maman,” he asks?

“I am another Mother for you, “ says Lily. “You have one in heaven and one here below. That makes two, doesn’t it?”

“Oui,” Gustav says as he flashes a small smile. “And you are American?

“Oui,” replies Lily. “Yes, I am an American. Je suis une américaine . Did I pronounce the words correctly?”

“Oui, parfait. I like your accent.”

“Oh, I hope you will help me with my French. I am just learning it and I have so much to learn that I will need a lot of help. And your English is so good.”

“Yes, I do speak English very well. I have been practicing since Papa left for America to find and return with a Mother for me.”

“Do you like stories? I am asking because I thought maybe we could write some in French and English. That way we could learn together. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes. I do like writing stories. I have already written some that I will show you. Shall I get them?”

“Later,” I say. “We have had a long journey. Tomorrow would be better.”

Lily kneels down to be on a level with him and says, “Whenever you are ready to show them to me, I will be delighted to read them. I can’t wait!”

Gustav smiles and says to her, “I think I am going to like you very much. I hope so. I do not want a wicked stepmother.”

Lily laughs and says, “I would love to hug you and kiss you. Maybe when you know me better you will let me. I will wait until you are ready. But please hurry, as I think I love you already.”

Gustav solemnly holds out his hand and Lily takes it in her own. She has tears in her eyes, and brushes them away. Her mouth trembles. Gustav watches her face carefully.

“Please don’t cry. Please don’t be sad. Bientot, soon, just wait a little.”

“All the time you need is yours,” she says to him.

I am choking and I lean to help Lily to her feet and lead her upstairs. She is sobbing as we climb the stairs, hiding her face from me.

We enter our rooms and she turns to come into my arms, hiding her face in my chest.

“He is so beautiful. Just like you. He looks just like you. He is so beautiful I can’t believe it. Such perfect manners. Such a beautiful little boy. I love him so much I can’t stand it.”

“Hush, hush,” I say to her. Please, it’s perfectly all right. I know he will love you. I know you will make him happy with you.  You are as perfect for him as you are for me. Oh, Lily, I love you so. You are my perfect Lily. I knew that right away when I met you. I just didn’t know how to convince you. That took me some time to learn.” I tilt her face up, and I kiss away her tears until she smiles; then I know everything is all right.

"Tu es parfaite pour moi."

I have fallen in love with her all over again.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Chapter 9:Ecstasy:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Cy Twombly - Leda

Cy Twombly - Leda 3


Lily rolls over on top of me while I am now soft and still in her. She puts her face on my neck and begins to sob. Her body shakes and I know she still has unresolved tension even after all that. The stored tension of a lifetime is now leaking out in sobbing, but that will never be enough to dispel it. I hold her tightly to me. I don’t want to slip out now as I wait to get hard again. I know what I am going to do next and the thought is making me hard very fast.

I know if I don’t fix this now, she will remain voracious and insatiable for the rest of our lives. She will never be completely sated. I realize the advantages of this, but I am too experienced now to not know the negative, as I remember Madame Walter. No, a sexually crazed Lily is not what I want.

I kiss her tenderly. I am not going to comfort her. She is an adult, not a child like Suzanne. “Ah, Lily, you want more. You have held all your feelings in much too long, much too long.” I begin to caress her, to arouse her again. She is in for it now.

I move inside her slowly, carefully, deeply and dirtily. I am beginning to give her what is known in Paris as a dirty fuck.  My hand seeks her breasts, her nipples which I fondle then pinch, a little roughly. She winces. I move to her clit and rub it in circles until she begins to writhe again.  I hold her ass tight to me, then I slip one finger of my hand around her anus, closer and closer to her opening. I feel her tense. Yes, she is wondering what I am doing.  I hum in her ear and blow into it. She whimpers, then moans. Yes, she is not finished, my Lily. Well, she will be after this.

I lick my fingers and then I insert one in her anus. She startles, says, “No, no, don’t do that, Georges, please don’t do that.” She starts to move away but I hold her fast. She realizes now that I am not going to let her go, and she begins to pant in fear. What is this man she hardly knows, whom she has married, going to do to her. She is in his power, she thinks.

If she only knew.

Now I insert a second finger and move both of them around. “No! I don’t want you to do this!” she almost screams. I pay no attention to her and just hold her tighter as she pushes harder to escape. Then I still my fingers, and remove them, and hold her, then I take my other hand and put my finger inside her cunt. Slowly, carefully and she is so wet. She sighs, thinking I am obeying. I put two more fingers inside her and move them slowly and purposefully. I kiss her lips, her hair, her ear and taste her all down her neck and throat and breasts, and stomach until I reach her folds and continue. “No, no, please, no not that.” I pay no attention to her and I lick her from her clit down to her entrance and then my tongue enters her and she shivers and moans. “No, please, no,” but she doesn’t mean it.  I suck her into my mouth and she trembles. I begin to take her to the edge but not too close.

I stop and she moans, but I put my cock inside her again and she moves closer to me. Then my fingers begin to move to her ass and she stiffens, wary now. I put one, then two in and circle inside, then I scissor them and she gasps. I feel her surprise. I increase the movement of my fingers and she tries to twist away. I pull out of her, flip her over and my cock is at the entrance to her ass in seconds and I go in an inch or so. She is completely surprised and screams, “No no not that. I won’t have that!

I whisper in her ear, “You still have all the power, Lily, only you just don’t know it right now.” If she would go completely passive and just lie there, I would immediately stop. It is not too late for that. She twists and tries to get away, but I hold her very tight.

“No, no, no, please not that, please, no, I am not that kind of woman, I am not, no, no, no, please don’t do this.” And she begins to cry.  But I am not going to stop and comfort her. I push in a little more, and I threaten, “Your tears are not going to stop me, Lily. Try something else.”

Then she really tries to get away, twist, writhe, squirm, turns and thrashes but it doesn’t work. I am ready for her. When she calms I push in a little more. So she renews her fight with me. As long as she resists I do not enter her more. But as soon as she exhausts herself and slows, I renew my efforts to get inside her ever more deeply. She is still on her stomach, her face in the pillow. Her sobbing increases, and her head thrashes back and forth.  I push a little deeper and I feel a slight relaxation of her spincter muscles. Now I know it is just barely beginning to feel pleasurable.

I push in just a little more and I feel her give. But I don’t want this. I want her resistance. I provoke her.

“It’s beginning to feel good, isn’t it, Lily. You are beginning to like it, aren’t you. I know you are going to love it!”  Now she really thrashes around. “No, no, stop! I shall throw myself overboard the first chance I get! I won’t live with a man who does this to me!” And she begins to bite and tear at the pillow in her rage.

You still have all the power, Lily, why don’t you use it?

Then she screams at me. Her rage is infantile rage, it goes so far back in time. Now she is no longer fighting me, she is fighting herself. This is what I want. Yes, yes, yes, this is what I want

She holds up her closed hand. “See this. This is your heart!” she screams. “I am going to dash it on the rocks, throw it into the sea, grind it under my feet, spit on it. I am going to put it in my mouth and tear it to shreds with my teeth, then swallow it and defecate it out, then smear it into the dirt!” And she begins sobbing again. She tears more at the pillow until the feathers start floating out, flying about the room. She is demented now.

No, you are not. Because I won’t let you,” I say.

I push in deeper but I am barely halfway into her so I go in even deeper, but slower. I have no wish to hurt her.  She twists and twists, so I place my teeth at the nape of her neck and bite carefully. She senses the primal impulse of this, that I could snap her neck, kill her, and then fuck her still warm body. I could throw her overboard and it would be assumed she had jumped. This she knows intuitively. And she knows I am going to get my way with her.

She tries to get up by rising on her knees and I allow this, just a little, as I sink deeper into her. She moans and tries to crawl away, but she doesn’t stand a chance. “Try something else, Lily,” I taunt.

Oh, you beast, you monster! I should have known! Why didn’t I know! Why did I say yes! I am in your power as I feared!"

No you are not,” I say. “You are not.”

Now she is violent. She has renewed strength as she fights for her life, because that is exactly what she is fighting for. She thinks she cannot live with a filthy disgrace like this. She screams, she pounds the bed, she grabs the pillow bringing it up and tears at it again and now more feathers fly. She twists her neck to bite me and catches my arm. Her teeth sink in and she bites as hard as she can. Blood runs out of her mouth, down my arm, all over the sheets. I laugh at her. She grabs at the pillow with her upraised hands and tears at it more, shredding it with her hands.  The feathers float all over the room now in clouds that fall on us, in our hair, our eyes, our mouths, all over our bodies. My dear god in heaven, she has become Cathy to my Heathcliff. What have I done! She is my darling Lily, but she doesn’t know it yet. She will though.

I go deeper, and she is so hoarse from screaming, she can’t catch her breath. “I am strangling, I am strangling!” She hopes I will believe her and stop. Not a chance. Now I am fully in at last and she feels it. She knows it with all her being. She howls. I pull out a little then thrust in again, harder. “You dirty bastard,” she cries. I will kill you for this. I will kill you. I will murder you. I will wait for my chance and kill you. I won’t kill myself, I will kill you. You will never touch me again. I will be on my guard all the time.!”

I move inside her and she has given way. Now I put my fingers into her cunt. One, then two, then three and I twist them around and my thumb fingers her clit. I am still holding her tight with my other hand and bloody arm. “Feel me inside you Lily,” I say. I curl my fingers up towards her clit on the inside and I push hard with my thumb. She gasps and begins to pant. I stop and move her back from the edge. “Oh!” she screams. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!

I speed my thrusting inside her ass, pulling her tight against me each time. “I love you ,” I say. “I love you.” She shrieks and screams blasphemies at me.

I keep increasing the deepness and speed of my thrusting, the movement of my fingers, playing her and then finally, finally she gives up and meets my thrusts, pants like a dog, and howls like a cat in heat on the back fence, rising up on her knees and arching her back and throwing her head back. She is magnificent. Now she is fully animal, all her civilized nuances gone to dust. She has become my Cathy completely. She screams in passion and puts her hands on her breasts and squeezes her nipples. She reaches behind her head and putting her hands around my neck, she pulls me in as close as she can.  She twists and turns but not to get away, to increase her pleasure. She cares nothing for me now. She is completely out of control with Dionysian ecstasy. She is gone. Absolutely gone. I completely let go in her, pumping my semen deep into her rectum, and take her over the edge.

She convulses and screams incoherently, her voice a mish-mash of jumbled words and sounds and animal noises. She convulses with a grand mal seizure. I put my hand in her mouth so she won't bloody her tongue. Her entire body shakes and trembles and I have to hold her tight. Her bladder lets go and then her bowels as she urinates and we are lying in a primal soupy stinking mess of filthy feathers and gruel.

And then finally she is complete and sinks down on the bed, turning up to look at me. Her face is washed clean, newborn, her eyes open wide and luminous like an infant’s eyes. She keeps staring at me. For the second time since I have met her, she is speechless.

I say,“I thought I loved you before, but I could not have. What I feel for you now is so much more than that, that I don’t have words for it. All I can say is I love you, I love you, all day and all night long. Come”, I say, and I pick her up to carry her into another room to wash her. I wash her the way you wash a bloody newborn calf or foal, wrapped in membrane, all bloody and covered with shit.

While I am cleaning her I tell her, “I had to do that. When you were torturing me in New York I had fantasies of doing that to you, humiliating you, dominating you, revenging myself on you. But that was before I loved you. I only wanted to marry you, to have you, to keep you, to make you mine. That’s not love. And then you began your siege of my heart. I was furious."

“You upped the stakes at each turn. Every time I called your cards, you would up the stakes again. I couldn’t win. I could never win. And I began to understand that that was the reason you had never married. You always had an obstacle ready. Always. But what did you want? I had everything you wanted and needed. Why did you keep distracting me, pushing me away, putting beautiful young girls in my path to seduce me. Why? What did you want? I didn’t know. But tonight I found out. Sex finds us out."

“You wanted ecstasy. And none of the men around you could even come close to giving you that. None of them were passionately experienced and brutal enough. And you didn’t even know that that was what you wanted. You just knew that any particular person couldn’t give you what you didn’t know you wanted. There’s a becoming famous doctor in Vienna who treats patients in a different way. He also asks, “What do women want?” He doesn’t know. But I do, because I have always studied women, listened to them. They know things.”

“Only one writer has really written about this with clear insight. She was a very young girl living in a parsonage. She never married, had no experience with friends, just living at home with her father, sisters and brother, walking on the moor with her dogs. She knew in her imagination, and she wrote it. I don’t think you have read Wuthering Heights, but you will. I have it at home. It’s how I learned English.

“And you will know that I am your Heathcliff and you are my Cathy. And when you read this book, you will know me and yourself. I just had to do what I did to allow you to know. You see, few people want to experience ecstasy. Some want to get close and run. Others want nothing to do with it. Most who do go mad. It is dangerous, terribly dangerous, but I know I can protect you. I knew that you did and you didn’t, but that you would never be who you could be, if you kept yearning for what you didn’t know.

“Now you are completely different, changed. Like St. Teresa in her passion. Everything you experience now will be the same and it will be different. You will still be my beautiful perfect Lily, and yet you will not be the same.”

That’s what she is. She has just been born again, my Lily, my perfect Lily. And I clean her, wash her hair, dry her with towels and then I wash myself without letting go of her.  I pick her up and we go to her room and her virginal clean bed and I place her on the sheets, cover her and climb in beside her and hold her in my arms, carefully, tenderly, for she is truly, newly born.

“Sleep, my darling, sleep now. Go to sleep. I will watch over your dreams. You will be safe.” The ship gently rocks on the waves and she is warm and lulled, and she sinks down into slumber.

And I love her beyond belief.

Chapter 8:Wedding Night:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

We both stand in the stateroom which is huge. There is a sitting room and two bedrooms on each side. One for Lily and one for me.
Louise Bourgeois - Hamlet and Ophelia

I tell Lily, “I have taken the entire deck for this level. I do not want you to have to meet or consider anyone but yourself. And me, of course. I promise you I won’t touch you. I shall begin to lay siege to your heart. I have laid siege  to your mind, your thoughts, your feelings to obtain your hand. Now I will do the same to win your heart. I will never, never touch you unless you desire me to do so. You still have all the power. I will not touch you without your desire.

“And I can promise you I will use all my charm, all my seductive ways to entice you to want me. I warn you, I will be relentless in possessing your heart. I know I can take you now by the contract we have agreed to, our marriage. But I want more than that. I want all of you. So I can wait for as long as possible for that to come about.”

I move in close to her and I see she is trembling. I reach out to finally touch that lock of her hair which is always escaping from the coil on the nape of her neck. I gently finger it, drawing it over my lips, kissing it, and then tenderly tucking it back in.

“There, now you are back with your sisters. I know you will twist away again to taunt me, to tease me, and you are lovely and charming, but for now please stay quiet.” I laugh and tell her, “That lovely lock of your hair has been beckoning me all this time, telling me to come hither, to touch, to fondle but I did not dare. Now that you are mine, I dare.”

I lightly touch her lips with my finger and outline them so softly she might almost not feel my touch, but I know it burns her and tingles long after I have stopped. I touch her face near her hairline and slowly draw my finger down her cheek and jaw line to her neck, and then I stop, catching my breath. She stares into my eyes, that never leave my face while I look at her.

“Listen Lily, I will not touch you tonight. I may come in later to watch you dream, but do not be afraid. If you lock your door, I will not break it down, although I will want to do so. If you leave your door open I may come in to watch you sleep. I know you are fatigued, so please, just relax, go to bed and rest. You are safe and secure now. No one can hurt you. No one can cause you distress. No one will be on this deck but us. We will have it all  to ourselves. Please, sleep well my darling. I will see you in the morning.

She looks at me in astonishment. She cannot believe I mean what I say.

I return to my room and undress for bed. Keeping the light on I get Madame Bovary from my suitcase to continue reading Flaubert. Perhaps the master will help me with this woman. Someone must. Slowly I enter the world of the book, until there is a soft knock on my door.

“May I come in?” she asks. I look at her standing there in a soft flowing diaphanous cream colored gown, her hair loose and wild, and I think, Dear god, what is she doing to me now?

“Of course.” And I continue to look at her. She who looks like an angel standing there ready to be slaughtered. I lower the light to make her more comfortable.

“I do not wish to sleep alone on my wedding night. I do not wish it.”

“What.” What does she mean?. I will be tortured all night now by her nearness.

“Please,” she says as she approaches the bed.

“Come, sit down,” I say, and she does. I start to breathe again. I turn on my side to face her and draw the covers around me to hide my desire from her.

“Do you remember the first time we met? How you took my hand and kissed it?”

“I remember,” I say.

“How you kissed it with your mouth open, and the tip of your tongue caressed my skin, soft as a shadow, so that I almost thought I was imagining it.”

“I do.” Where is she going with this?

“My skin burned from your touch.”

I look at her and say, “Immediately after I touched you I looked into your eyes and your pupils dilated. Your eyes were still open, friendly, polite. Your mouth warm, still smiling, polite, your face showing nothing but just the proper amount of friendliness, politeness.”

“I remember what you said,” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “Mademoiselle Bart, you are beautiful and incomparable, graceful and perfect. There has been no exaggeration of your loveliness. You still are by the way.”

“And I said, ‘Your exceeding charm has been greatly underestimated.’ I meant it too. I still do.”

I lean over and touch her hand, the same one. Instead of bringing it to my lips, I bend my head down to where it lies beside her thigh, and I turn it over and begin to kiss her palm. My lips open and I press my mouth to her palm and kiss it. I graze it with my teeth, then lick it with my tongue and begin to suck it, kiss it passionately until I feel forced to stop. I curl her fingers closed tenderly.

“I am placing my heart inside as a gift for you to take care of. Please take care of it as I love you very much.” I look up into her eyes. They are brimming with tears that run down her face.

“That is the only thing I ever wanted from you,” she says. “You think you are going to lay siege to my heart, but I have been laying siege to your heart since first I saw you. It is all I want. I will never let it go. I will keep it now forever. It is mine now.” And she closes her hand tightly.

And she moves to kiss my lips and her body presses against mine. Her mouth opens to me and her tongue touches my lips and my tongue finds hers and explores her mouth carefully, slowly. But she won’t have it that way. She moves her mouth harder against mine until I give up and hold her tightly kissing her with all the abandon I feel. She whimpers and then moans and I cannot imagine stopping now. My hands seek her breasts, her nipples and then my mouth begins to move lower on her as my hands explore her stomach. Her breath gasps and I move still lower until I am at her center which is melting hot and very wet.

“Please,” she says, “please.”

Her hand is still in a fist, still holding my heart. I try to loosen her fingers but she won’t allow it. Her other hand moves to my hair and she seizes it, pulling my face towards her.

I put one finger in her and she writhes, twisting her body. She is slippery and wet with desire and so I remove all my covers, pull her close and begin to enter her.

“I am afraid I will hurt you,” I say.

“No. No. You will not. I am not a doll. You will not break me. I promise, I promise. Just. Please. Do not stop. Please don’t stop.”

I enter deeper until I reach her membrane and then I say, “I am afraid this will hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t stop.” And she thrusts her hips at me until I am undone and push suddenly and hard and I am through.

“Oh, god,” she says. “How wonderful. I can’t believe how you feel in me.” And she begins to pant, pasting herself to me then pulling away then rushing back into my arms so hard my breath hitches. I hold her so tight. Then I begin to move in her and she moans aloud and I think she will scream.

“Yes,” she says, “yes yes yes!” And now she is trembling uncontrollably, all control gone, lost forever, as she kisses me wildly, rubbing herself all over me, and crying and moaning, “Yes yes yes more more more.”

And then I realize what she wants. For me to take her like an animal. To be a beast and pound all the holding back of her life from her. To relieve her of all the pressure of conformity, of behaving perfectly, of denying herself all her feelings and spontaneity.  She begins to scream and she becomes something wild and untamed and I am delirious with surprise and joy, not knowing who this woman is.

She reaches the edge and I touch her clit, rubbing it in circles and she convulses and goes over the edge screaming my name over and over and I just let go of all of me and fill her and fill her until I am dripping out of her, and I take my semen and rub it all over her body and then begin to lick it off her. She looks at me with black eyes, breathing like a foundering animal and I kiss her tenderly, hold her face in my hands and say, “I love you. I love you. I love only you.” And then I wrap my arms around her, pull the covers up and hold her so tight even her dreams will have no room to reach her.

“You are mine,” I say. “No one else will ever touch you. I will kill anyone who tries. And I will never want anyone but you ever again.” 

Chapter 7:Georges Proposes:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Yellow Diamond

Lily, stop this! Stop right now! Please, please, stop! Now! I surrender! I surrender! You have all the power. All of it. You can make me the happiest man on earth or you can destroy me by saying no. I can’t go on with this charade any longer. You stalemate me at every turn. Marry me, marry me, please, please, please marry me. I will give you anything you want. I will make you happy. I love you beyond belief. Please, please say yes.”

She has put her hand to her throat. Her face is astonished and horrified. For the first time since I have met her she can say nothing, do nothing but stand there, struck dumb. She sits down in the chair. I fall to my knees in front of her and grasp her hand.

I notice how quiet it is, how all the murmuring has stopped. Lily’s eyes are darting left and right now. I see that everyone near us has stopped. They are not talking. They are just standing there looking at us. And now I know. Lily is ruined. I have made such a scene that she will be blamed for this scene for the rest of her life. She will be damned forever having let me get this far, this close to her to compromise her reputation.

I don’t care. This is good. Now she will have to say yes. She cannot go back to her life with this ghastly occurrence that will be talked about for two hundred years! Yes, she is ruined. I am delirious with gratitude for these miniscule minds that would blame her for what I have created. I want to kiss their feet.

Lily holds out her palm to quiet me but it is too late. “No, Lily,” I say, “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what all of them think. The only person whose thinking or feelings I care about are yours. Yours, only yours. You are the only important person to me in this huge crowd of people. You are the only person here for me.

Lily shudders. Her face is white and she is still speechless. For once, she is speechless. She cannot even move.

“Lily, Lily, please listen to me. Please. Listen to me. None of these people matter. They cannot hurt you. They cannot even take up the tiniest space in my mind. My mind only has room for you. Please, please give me your answer. Now. I don’t want you to have time to think about it. Not any more. Tell me now,” I command her.

I look up at her. In the corner of my eye I see Selden standing there with her wrap, wishing he could disappear, just drop her wrap on the floor and melt into the stones of the terrace. “Lily,” I say. “Now. Tell me, yes or not. Now.”

Her eyes look around and she sees nothing but incomprehension and absolute horror. She looks at me, full in the face, deep into my eyes and whispers, “Yes, yes, yes I will. And then louder, “Yes.”

I am radiant with joy. I grasp a small box from my pocket, pull out the ring, and I don’t even give her time to look at it as I put it on her finger. It is huge and ugly. An eight carat diamond, with ruby baguettes on each side from Tiffany’s.

“Yes.” I say. “I know it is ostentatious. Worse than ostentatious. It is obscene. Over the border into the land of the vulgar. It is exactly what I wanted.” Lily is looking at it on her hand with dismay on her face.

“When we get to Paris we both will go get another one. A beautiful one that you will pick out. We can throw this one in the Seine. Drown it. These people wouldn’t know what a beautiful ring looks like if they saw one. I know these people because I used to be just like them. You have changed me utterly. I do not even recognize myself anymore. The only thing they know is how much it is worth by looking at its size. I wanted them to see just how much I worship you, how much you mean to me, because to them, that’s what an engagement ring signifies. How much you are loved by how big the diamond is. I want to silence their tongues permanently.

I never want you to have to consider them again, all their foolish, simpering, stupid thoughts, perceptions and comments that you so carefully rephrase to sound intelligent, to make them feel important. They are not important. You are important. You are important and precious to me. You are all I care about in this pompous miserable copy of what they think is a Parisian court from Louis the XV or XVI at Versailles.”

“And it is no better where we are going. Even worse. But I will have you and that will make all the difference. Let us go now. We can take a carriage ride around the park, and I can calm down, and you can begin to breathe again. We will sail as soon as I can book passage. The Captain of the ship can marry us as soon as we are in international waters. Unless you want to stay to plan a big wedding here for these fools. I will do what you want.” Lily shakes her head. “Come. Take my arm and flash your diamond in their eyes.”

I pull her up, she takes my arm, and we walk from the terrace into the room. Bertha Dorset stands near the door and Lily walks up to her and says, “Dear Mrs. Dorset, we shall be leaving now. It has been an eventful and joyous evening for me that I will remember all my life. Thank you so much for inviting us. Goodnight and again thank you for the most unimaginable, wonderful evening of my life.” She gives her her hand, the one with the ring on it, and touches her goodbye.

And with immense grace she walks out the door, her head high on her slender neck, her eyes straight ahead into the dark, where I see a carriage and hail it.

She is my beautiful, my perfect Lily.