Showing posts with label Louise Bourgeois. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louise Bourgeois. Show all posts

Saturday, October 1, 2011

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

Mapplethorpe
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 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.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Chapter 2: The Duchess Conspires-Lily Bart and Georges Du Roy - Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Louise Bourgeois - Red Flowers

“Lily, I am so glad you could come. Lady Skiddaw and I would like to spend as much time with you as possible while we are here. Are you going to be free enough for that?”

“Since I got back from Monte Carlo I have all the free time in the world, Duchess. Or haven’t you heard the news?”

“Amelia, please. My title is only for those fogies to whom it is so important. Not for my friends. Yes, I did hear, but it will blow over and things will get back to normal for you. Actually I hope they don’t but that is for our next topic of conversation.”

“I think not. Bertha Dorset seems intent on ruining me. She imagines things until she believes they are true.”

“Well, no one believes her, certainly?”

“No, but she has all the money and power over the social network here, and I have none. They can’t afford to displease her.”

“When I am here, if they want me, they will have to have you. By the time my visit is over, you will be integrated back in their set, and she will have to plan something else.  I see you are laughing Lily.Does that mean you agree with me?”

“Not at all, but we will see, won’t we? Where shall we go tonight? I had some ideas, but what are yours?”

Mrs. Trenor invited Lady Skiddaw and myself to a small intimate party she is having. I told her we were already engaged with you and that I would check with you to see if you could reschedule. She immediately asked me to bring you, by all means. See how it works! Voila! I also mentioned Baron Du Roy is here and wishes to meet some English women. But he is here to meet you and marry you, Lily.”

“Oh, Amelia,” Lily laughs. “I’ve never met him. How could he want that. He knows nothing about me. What happened to all the beauties in Paris? Did they all disappear?” And Lily laughs softly again.

“My dear, he does not need to know anything about you. He knows me, and that is all that is needed. I told him about you and he decided to come to New York with me to meet you.  Don’t look so astonished. He is looking for a wife. His young wife died in childbirth almost three years ago, and he has a young child, a boy, who has never had a mother. He, for some reason I don’t know, prefers to find an English speaking woman for himself and his son.”

“Really, Amelia, you can’t mean this.”

“But I do. He is here now, staying at my hotel. He is titled, very, very rich, very handsome, is the editor of the largest most influential newspaper in all of Paris, La Vie Francaise, an accomplished political journalist, author of some short stories, is working on a novel, and his son is heir to the Walter fortune – Walter owns the newspaper and he was married to his daughter “

“He certainly sounds very busy. Where can he find the time to find a wife and marry?’ laughs Lily.

“You may laugh, Lily, but there are many people who take me far more seriously than you do.” Amelia puts on a pouting face and Lily laughs again.

“I will certainly meet your Baron and help him find a more suitable choice than I.”

“Oh, Lily, you foolish girl. He is perfect for you. Why wouldn’t you want to marry him?”

“Well, that’s hard to say since I’ve never laid eyes on him.”

“You will tonight. I have told him he must come to meet you there. So that’s that. I want you to dress lovely, but then you always do anyway, so just prepare yourself to greet him without any prior judgments, will you please?”

“I will,” says Lily, “I will.”