Blue Tango

Chapter Sixteen

Claire suggested that Julie live with us. I hesitated at first, but Claire insisted. She said she would not abandon Julie. “We're not savages, are we, Edward?”

I was uneasy about having the two sisters in the house. I thought there might be difficulties, bickerings, desperate intrigues. But Julie was irresistible and I agreed.

She came to us shortly after the tragedy, two trunks filled with clothes and a collection of mementos of her French childhood. I saw nothing much of John among the things she brought. Nothing much of anything, in fact; she had very little and brought even less. She was given a room next to Claire's and we began what one calls a communal life. I was surprised that Julie showed minimal horror at the tragedy that had befallen her husband. She seemed more concerned about the condition of her clothes. I often found the two sisters laughing at something as I entered the room. They never talked of John. The poor bloke was in the Channel somewhere and here we were comfortable in London.

I frequently found Julie staring at me. I wondered what she thought of me now. Her presence evoked memories. I remembered the intimacies. One always remembers the intimacies. Did she think of them also? Did she remember as I did? I desired her again. I could not help admiring her bust, her delicate wrists and ankles. I thought of the two of us together. Then I asked myself if it was only a way to avenge myself upon Claire. Perhaps it was.

As for Claire, the presence of Julie in the house seemed to produce an exhilaration in her. She seemed more energetic, more certain of herself. She was more demanding of me, more in need of my company in her bedroom. I thought she flirted with me more frequently. She wanted connection more often. She would smile and touch the front of my trousers at odd moments. During our bouts together, she enjoyed various antics previously refused. Now there seemed to be a compulsion to exhibit herself to me. She insisted I accord her certain pleasures. She cajoled me into paying homage to her sex and bottom. What feverish hours we passed! She teased me constantly, fondled me at every opportunity. We did a great deal of sucking, our bodies entwined upon her bed, our mouths working endlessly. I'd never known her to be so ravenous. Always with the lamps burning in the room. As if she wanted to be seen. She said she liked to watch me when I sucked her sex. I found her aggression exciting. I liked to look at her in the nude. I liked to look at her sex and she would always accommodate my interest. She called it her little fig. She would half recline upon the chaise, open her thighs and part the lips of her sex with her fingers to show me the pink interior. On occasion the pose was more blatant, Claire on the bed on her knees, her sex exposed to me from the rear. Then her sex did indeed resemble a fig, and when I told her so she seemed quite amused at my description of it. Then she would request my mouth and I would suck her like that, her body bent upon the bed, my tongue licking at her little fig from the rear. She moaned constantly whenever she felt the lapping of my tongue. And other poses, all the lecherous poses in her bedroom. I saw more of her body now than ever before. She constantly fondled me in her bedroom, held my testicles and root, teased me about my excitement, on occasion a compliment concerning my virility.

But my hatred for Claire did not diminish. I hated her even as I sucked her sex. My desire for her was always strong, but now I also wanted Julie. Claire's sister was in the house and always present in my mind. I wanted the complete possession of Julie. The past moments of intimacy between us had become burning memories.

I was also wary of Julie, wary of my desire for her. I told myself I was easily caught by a woman. An affair with Julie might be dangerous. Claire might discover it. I did not like complications. I wanted a simple life. Claire was so unpredictable. She knew everything that went on in the house. She knew all the details of my life. She would sense an affair with her sister. Or else Julie would reveal it. I would have an abominable intrigue in my house. Two French sisters whispering together in secret moments. I would find myself wary of shadows. I remembered the cloying atmosphere of the Fontan house in Paris. I envisioned myself transformed into one of those wretched men who occupy a wing-chair in an empty club, their eyes glassy as they hide their souls behind the pages of a newspaper. There would be twistings and turnings in the house, a tangle of deceptions.

Then at other times I found the idea of an affair with Julie amusing. What a lark to have two sisters. I had to admit my weakness for deceptions, my own deceptions. I did enjoy the games of intrigue. And I found Julie so exciting. The younger sister was so remarkably ripe. Like a fruit to be plucked again now that John was gone. What could be more convenient than her presence here in the house? She was so much more appealing than Claire, more like Odette. I could not forget Odette. I told myself I'd had the mother and one daughter and now I should have the other daughter as well. All the Fontan women. I should taste them all. A dalliance with Julie would be delicious. I passed fevered hours thinking about her. I wanted to hold her breasts, her bottom, the slope of her belly. I wanted her flesh in my hands. I wanted to suck at her fountain. I wanted the feel of her ripe sex beneath my fingers.

Then one day the affair with Julie finally began. Perhaps the accomplishment of it was inevitable.

We found each other alone in the house. We had tea together in the library. We flirted with each other and she seemed quite receptive. At last we kissed.

“Edward, we mustn't.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know. It's not proper.”

“I haven't forgotten you.”

“I don't want to talk about that. I was much too young.”

“Old enough, I think.”

“You took advantage of me.”

“Yes, I think I did. How awful of me.”

I kissed her again. My tongue slipped between her lips as we pressed against each other. The memories of her body flooded my brain. I remembered her mouth on my penis, the ardent sucking. We kissed again and she touched me. She laughed as she pinched my root through my trousers. Now all the pretense of modesty vanished. She was a woman now, a young widow. She unbuttoned my trousers, brought my tool out to fondle it. She held it in her hand, looked down at it with a smile. Then she went to her knees upon the carpet. She looked up at me, smiling, teasing me with her smile. “You've corrupted me, darling. I'm completely corrupted, aren't I? What a lovely thing this is. So arrogant, isn't he?” And the next moment she took my knob between her lips. I felt her tongue rolling over the tip of my root. I looked down at her with great pleasure. My penis in the mouth of Claire's sister. She had such a lovely mouth, the lips full and obviously made for sucking. And lovely white teeth. I spent in her mouth. She took the jetting. She seemed eager for my spending. I watched her throat as she swallowed. What a marvelous thing it is to watch a woman who enjoys using her mouth. My excitement was keen and a shudder of pleasure went through me. She looked up at my face with glistening lips. “Well, it's done, isn't it? I'm sure I'll be sorry for it. You mustn't ever tell Claire. I'll never forgive you if you tell Claire. You must promise me, Edward. Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Look how droopy he is now. Not so arrogant any more. Help me stand, will you? I don't know why I've done it, but I have, haven't I?”

She dabbed at her lips with a handkerchief. She glanced at the mirror to see the flush in her face. Then she turned again and smiled and asked me to call for more tea.

More than a week passed before Julie and I were alone again. In the interim her eyes seemed always amused when they met mine. We had our little secret now. Then finally one day we were together again. Claire was out and Julie and I had at least two hours to ourselves. This time we went directly to her bedroom. She seemed gay as she pulled the drapes closed. She quickly disrobed and I did the same. We lay naked together upon her bed. I fondled her breasts as I kissed her mouth. Then I knelt between her legs to kiss her sex. She laughed as she pulled her knees back to her breasts. Then she moaned as I began sucking her. What a lovely ripe sex she had. Her sounds of pleasure were constant as I licked and sucked and nibbled at her source. A delicious feast, her syrup plentiful, her flesh swollen and hot. I made her spend with my lips and tongue, my mouth pressed against her sex as she trembled and groaned. Then I made her roll over and raise her bottom. She smiled at me over her shoulders and asked if I found her beautiful. I paid homage to her bottom. I rained kisses over the globes. She was soon once again in a frenzy of arousal. She pressed her bottom against my face. “Darling, don't tease me. You're an awful man, you know. A bounder. That's the proper word, isn't it? My sister's husband. We must both be mad. Oh, do it there. I do like it. I like the tickling.”

I tongued her rosette. Her little rose. The puckered ring of her rear portal. She groaned as I slipped my tongue inside. I fluttered my tongue as she moaned. She mumbled something about Claire again. At the moment I had no thought of Claire. The globes of Julie's bottom were so full in my hands. She moaned and shuddered under my kisses.

Then I pulled my face away. I stroked her sex with my fingers and set about to mount her. I first entered her sex, pushing in, beginning the sliding as she remained bent upon the bed. I fondled her breasts as I poked her source. After a dozen strokes, I pulled out and teased her with my fingers again. She turned wild, begged me to continue. Now I was in command of things. I left the bed to find some ointment. When I returned, I anointed her rose-hole. She remained bent, her hips raised, her body trembling as she waited. I tickled her sex again. Then I pushed my knob at her bottom-hole. She groaned. She adored it. She urged me on. Her bottom was so luscious, so round and fully fleshed. So much like Odette's. I fondled her globes as I slowly poked her bottom. After a while I spent and she cried out as she felt the jetting. She cried out and squeezed my root with her bottom-hole. “Edward, you've exhausted me.”

I enjoyed the intensity of my lust. I felt reborn. How amusing to have thought of her mother while I poked her. Now there were no regrets. Julie's presence in the house was a complete delight. I would have a new obsession. That afternoon I thought we might linger, but Julie insisted she had too much fear of Claire's return. She pressed against me, came into my arms and kissed me. I ran my hands over her nether-cheeks, fondled her globes to remind her of our intimacy. “Edward, you're a cad.”

“You called me a bounder.”

“Don't touch me there.”

“I've just poked it.”

“It's not proper.”

Following that afternoon, the affair between Julie and myself continued. Whenever Claire was absent, Julie and I rushed into each other's arms. My sister-in-law became my mistress. We had our whisperings. We had our secret glances in the drawing room. Before long I took her to the flat in Bedford Way. Now we had complete privacy. We would meet there two or three afternoons a week. Either Julie or myself would arrive first, and then a short time later we would be together. We had afternoons of frenzy, afternoons of casual caresses, afternoons of stolen pleasure. I discovered Julie to be a complete hedonist. She enjoyed teasing, but the teasing was different than with Claire. Julie was more a cocotte than Claire. She assumed poses to expose herself. I found her a vibrant mistress, a woman whose passion matched mine. The affair both amused and aroused me. I did enjoy the excitement of deception. The idea of deceiving Claire with her sister was pleasant. I felt as though I'd achieved a great victory. Was Julie also pleased? I found it difficult to tell. She refused to be serious about anything. She seemed to think of nothing but her pleasures, her wardrobe, the hat she would wear to the next performance at the Adelphia. “Edward, you don't understand these things. But of course you don't. And I'm certain Claire thinks the same as I do. Doesn't she? Oh, it's nasty, isn't it? We lie here together on this bed of sin. My sister's husband. I ought to be punished. What punishment would you have for me? Kiss me, darling. Yes, like that. How sweet you are. I've always been fond of you, haven't I? From that first moment when you arrived with Father from Spain.”

The interludes in Bedford Way were always intense. We devoted ourselves to physical pleasure. I was constantly afraid Claire would notice the glow in Julie's face. I wondered when the intensity would fade, the affair begin its decline. One ought to expect a decline in things. Julie continued her involvement with Walter Bramsby even during her visits to the flat in Bedford Way. So both Walter Bramsby and Claire were deceived. On occasion I found myself jealous. I was annoyed at the hours Julie passed with Walter. But I controlled my jealousy. I told myself I had to be patient. As long as Julie continued to visit the flat in Bedford Way, I would accept Walter Bramsby. I would allow Walter his moments with Julie.

Julie did talk to me about Walter Bramsby. She told me she thought Walter was a child. She wanted my advice. What ought she to do with Walter? Did I think she ought to marry Bramsby? Did she need a husband? She hinted that if she did marry Walter, she would continue to come to the flat in Bedford Way. But I was not delighted with that prospect. The affair would become much too complicated. Julie talked and talked about Walter Bramsby. She talked about Walter while we lay in each other's arms. One time she talked about Walter while she licked and sucked my root. I watched her voluptuous mouth. I found it amusing. She was such a wanton. So much like her mother. And yet so unlike her sister. I considered the mysteries of inheritance, the passage of things from one generation to the next. Two Fontan sisters were now in London. Had the French conquered England or had the English conquered France? Was I the vanquished or the conqueror? I adored stroking her flesh. What a magnificent bottom she had. And her breasts. She liked to hover over me, her breasts suspended, her nipples teasing my lips. I would tickle her nest while I sucked her breasts. The room filled with her groaning. No more talk of Walter Bramsby as she mounted me, as I held her globes in my hands. Life becomes bearable during a minute or two of a woman rocking upon one's tool. Then the turning, the rolling over upon her belly. “Do my bottom, darling.” She did want it. She liked to proffer it, her hips elevated to show the moons, the deep split between her cheeks, the hairy fig. I wondered if she deliberately behaved this way to put me in a frenzy. And of course she always succeeded. Vanquished or conqueror?

In the meantime I became suspicious that Claire had a steady lover again. I felt it in my bones. I watched her carefully at dinner. I took note of her absences. I found myself intensely curious about the adventures of my wife. I wondered who it could be. After a time my curiosity reached an unbearable intensity and I once more engaged Mr. Cutter.

One needs these people. They provide us with a degree of rectitude. The detective soon reported that my wife made frequent visits to the rooms of a gentleman named Walter Bramsby.

My shock quickly turned to amusement. I was delighted by the irony. It was all so delicious. I questioned Cutter about details. I wanted every detail. He told me of his spying upon Claire. How amusing it was. Now I felt the power I had over them.

Then Cutter informed me that Claire also often visited a house in Bedford Way.

Now I was taken aback. Now I was astounded. I questioned Cutter to make certain he was not mistaken. But of course he was certain of it. He described the street, the house, Claire's entrance and exit. Was I pale as I listened?

Later I made inquiries with the woman who owned the building in Bedford Way. I described Claire to her. Yes, she knew the woman. I was shown the flat next to mine. I trembled as I entered. I studied the wall that separated the two flats and in a moment I found the peep-slit. The house, after all, had once been a notorious bordello. I stood transfixed before the peep-slit. Now I understood that Claire came to Bedford Way to spy upon myself and Julie.

How absurd it was. Claire knew all about my affair with her sister. It was quite astonishing. I was completely stunned by it. If it hadn't been for Mr. Cutter, I would never have known it.

Then I was amused again. It was all so ridiculous. I decided I would play on. I would have my entertainments. I would not reveal to Claire that I knew anything. I would retain the power of my knowledge. No, I would not reveal myself yet. What a lovely tangle it was. I thought of Claire with Walter Bramsby. I could hardly imagine it and I wondered how they managed things. How did they get on? Sometimes I would sit in a trance as I wondered about it. Claire and Walter. Her secret afternoons. Heated interludes in Bramsby's rooms. He was such a dolt. What on earth did she do with him in bed? All her tricks? I pitied Bramsby. He was in the clutches of a Parisian witch. I imagined Claire showing her sex to him, her thighs apart as she pulled at her sex with her fingers to show her clitoris. Did he take her bottom? Claire and I hadn't had connection in weeks and I told myself I had to pay some attention to her attributes. I wanted signs. I wanted her sex swollen in my hand after an hour or two in secret with Walter Bramsby. Then I told myself I was a fool and that to want such a thing was madness. But of course it was all mad and the wanting of a madness was of no consequence.

How amusing it was that Walter Bramsby was actually cuckolding me. I wondered what he thought about that. Did he feel remorse?

When Julie and I were next in the flat in Bedford Way, I listened carefully for noises from the flat adjoining. My excitement was intense as I thought of Claire on the other side of that wall, Claire with her eyes at the peep-slit. Then I did hear something. Yes, there was something, someone in the adjacent flat. Claire was there at the peep-slit. I knew it. I found myself delighted as I played with Julie. I thought of Claire watching us as I fondled Julie's breasts. My caresses were deliberate. I produced a performance for the entertainment of my wife. I chided myself for being so devilish. I teased Julie into a state of extreme lewdness. Yes, let Claire see it. I wanted Claire to watch her sister. I cajoled Julie into fondling herself. She lay upon the bed completely wanton, her thighs apart, her fingers in her nest. She did enjoy exhibiting herself. She opened her sex to show me how wet she was. Did Claire see it also? I brought out the leather godemiche I always kept in the flat. Julie was delighted with it and immediately pushed it inside her grotto. She moaned as the dildo penetrated her sex. She lay there in a state of complete frenzy. “Oh Edward, it's lovely. What a monster it is! So big. Really, Edward, you ought to be jealous. Are you jealous, darling? Yes, you are. You do like watching me, don't you? I want you in my bottom afterward. We'll have such a lovely poke, won't we, darling?” I coaxed her. She groaned. She continued pushing and pulling at the leather instrument in her grotto. I was happy at her wanton behavior. I told her to go on with it. The idea that Claire was watching it was immensely exciting. I tried to imagine what Claire was feeling as she watched it. Was Claire shocked at Julie's behavior in Bedford Way?

Then one day in a carriage, I amused myself by revealing to Julie that Walter Bramsby was involved with another woman.

Julie was shocked. “I don't believe it.”

“But it's true, darling.”

“Oh Edward.”

I told her that for her sake I'd bothered to hire a detective to investigate Walter. “It's always better to be cautious, isn't it?”

Julie seemed in a daze. When she asked who the woman was, I offered a false name. I did not tell her about Claire.

Then Julie asked if I thought she still ought to marry Bramsby. “It's not as if we're engaged. At the moment he's completely free. But do you think I ought to go on with it?”

I considered the matter. I finally shrugged and said why not? I said Walter's dalliance with another woman was only temporary. I reminded Julie that she herself was in the midst of an affair. “With your sister's husband.”

Julie laughed. She said she was more and more inclined to accept Walter's proposal of marriage. She said she felt he would make an adequate husband. “He's quite proper, isn't he?”

But then soon after that day Walter announced to Julie that he would not marry her. Julie was stunned. Walter refused to give any reason for his change of heart. Julie came to me in tears and told me everything. She reported that Walter seemed angry at her. He acted as if she had deceived him.

I comforted her. I said she would soon forget Walter Bramsby. “He's too boring, darling. You need a man with more vigor.”

Then Mr. Cutter revealed to me that Claire had recently visited Bedford Way with the same man whose rooms she so often frequented. Mr. Walter Bramsby. “They went in and out. I'd say they were in no more than an hour. If that's of any interest to you, sir.”

Interest, indeed. Now I was astonished again. How devilish Claire was. Now I understood that Claire had brought Walter to spy upon myself and Julie. She wanted Walter to see us together. Walter's response was to cancel his plans to marry Julie. The man was a mere pawn in Claire's hands. Claire had deliberately manipulated the termination of Walter's courtship to her sister. Poor Walter had played the clown for Claire's amusement.

But Julie's gaiety was soon restored. She quickly ceased to talk of Walter Bramsby. She continued to meet me in Bedford Way. Her hedonism was rampant again. We continued our games in the flat. I played the puppeteer. Now I knew that often Claire was watching us. And Claire did not know that I knew it. What a lark it was. Julie and myself on the bed while Claire watched us from the other side of that wall. On occasion I could hear Claire's movements, a scraping sound, a minor collision of a knee against the woodwork. There was never any sign of her spying when we were all together in the evening.

In Bedford Way Julie became more and more aggressive. She demanded her pleasures. She amused herself with me. And why not? It was clear to me that we all preyed upon each other. I found myself more and more obsessed with Julie. She aroused me more than Claire did. I suppose Claire was aware of that as a result of her spying. Julie teased me constantly, dominated me sexually now. I yielded to her demands. I always yielded to her demands.

And did Claire watch it all? I had no love for Julie. We used each other, exhausted each other without respite. I soon realized I disliked her intensely. I told myself she was as evil as Claire. I decided I hated both sisters. The two Fontan sisters were a pair of witches. They both enjoyed using me. I told myself I was a victim. I told myself I had to find a way to get even. I wanted vindication. I wanted revenge.