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

Cezanne

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

Mapplethorpe

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

Cezanne

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. 

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…..in 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.

Chapter 4:Bertha Dorset's Dance:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Louise Bourgeois - To Unravel a Torment

Bertha Dorset was holding an informal supper and dance. She was forced to invite Lily Bart because she wanted the Duchess and Baron Du Roy to attend. She had been furious but was now over it and looking forward to her great success in getting these two people to come to her social event. She would take care of Lily in the near future when the Duchess and the Baron had returned to their travels.

The evening is festive, but not crowded, more an intimate gathering in honor of the two celebrities from Europe. There are a number of last year’s debutantes that have been invited to  be presented to the Baron. Bertha hopes to be a matchmaker for one of them, to assure her a place in the society of Paris. A grateful girl will welcome her to her new place in the future.

“Lily, I would like to ask you a favor,” she requests.

“Of course, Bertha, what can I do for you?” says Lily.

“Well I would like you to advance a few of the younger women to ensure that the Baron notices them.”

Lily laughs saying, “Of course. I already promised Amelia that I would do so.”

So she calls the Duchess Amelia, does she, thought Bertha.

“Then I can count on you?”

“Absolutely,” replies Lily. “Consider it done. I have my eye on Lucinda Wetherall. What do you think?”

“Oh, she would be perfect. She is lovely and such an accomplished pianist, I know she will charm him.”

“Good. We are in agreement then, but I shall introduce him to the others so it will not look too contrived.”

“Oh, Lily, you are so good at all this. We have missed you lately. Don’t stay away so much,” Bertha says as she turns away to greet a new arrival.

 I think if I can manage this, all will be well for me, thinks Lily.

Chapter 3 - Georges Du Roy Meets Lily Bart: Du Roy and Lily Bart: Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Lily - Georgia O'Keeffe

The informal gathering at Mrs. Trenor’s that evening was a familiar social gathering for Lily. She arrived with Amelia and Lady Skiddaw and they entered together.

“Why Lily,” said Mrs. Trenor. “Where have you been keeping yourself since you returned from Monaco? We have missed you, and she kissed each of her cheeks in welcome.”

“My Aunt, Mrs. Peniston, has not been well, and I have been attending to her, that’s all. But here I am and so happy to see you.”

Soon people were conversing, mixing with each other, partaking of tidbits of food and listening to the music and Lily began to feel that maybe Amelia was right, that being here was all that was needed to dispel the ugly stories spread by Bertha Dorset.

Wearing a bias cut pale rose silk gown, with a deep scalloped neckline, Lily looked more wonderful than anyone else in the room, as usual. Her head high on her slender neck, her eyes bright with contentment at being there, she was ready to forgive all for their  shunning of her.

I walk in the door and look around for the Duchess hoping to see Lily Bart with her. And then I see Lily, as she is the only one in the room. My god, she is beautiful, tall, slender, her hair piled high, lovely white face, arms, shoulders. Yes, Amelia was exactly right. I would not hesitate to ask her right this minute, book passage and take her away. Perfect.

The Duchess sees me and glances at Lily. I nod to let her know I have already seen and to indicate that she was correct. I am grateful to her for enticing me here. She comes to my side, introduces me to her hostess, then says, “There is someone I want you to meet.” We both know who that is.

She arrives at Lily’s side after greeting a number of people on the way, and she touches Lily’s arm and says, “Lily, I have been wanting you to meet a friend of mine from Paris, the Baron Du Roy of Cantel”

I bow to Lily, take her hand, and kiss her skin with open lips. The barest touch of the tip of my tongue licks her. I immediately look into her eyes and I see that her pupils have dilated. Excellent, I think, excellent.

Her face gives nothing away, her eyes cool, polite, friendly, warm, her mouth and face the same, and I say to her,

“Mademoiselle Bart, you are beautiful and incomparable, graceful and perfect. There has been no exaggeration of your loveliness.”

She replies, “Your exceeding charm has been greatly underestimated.”

She has mirrored me. And precisely. I am surprised.  Her voice is beautifully modulated.  She is perceptive, intelligent, well the adjectives would flow but are not necessary.

Already I am enchanted with her.