Blue Tango

Chapter Nine

Walter Bramsby finds me in a confection shop in Oxford Street. He insists we go somewhere for tea. He has a plate of Italian cakes brought to the table for me. He proclaims me to be the loveliest woman in the room. “And Julie's sister. How wonderful to know you both.”

“She's the lovely one.”

“I find you both enchanting.”

“Dear Walter.”

He looks pensive. “I do love her, you know. She's a marvelous thing, isn't she? An extraordinary woman.”

“You've told her, of course.”

“Oh yes. I'm filled with hope. I can't think of anything else these days. I want so much to be her husband.”

“I'll be pleased to have you as a brother-in-law, provided you continue offering these delicious Italian cakes.”

“I think she'd be the most loyal wife. That's quite important these days, isn't it?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I want… love from a woman. Surprised, aren't you? You didn't expect that from me.”

“Not really.”

“But it's what I want. That's really what I want. Something that lasts. A great passion. And I think Julie is capable of it. Most women aren't, you know. She's the first woman I've known who I think could rise to it. A great passion.”

“How lovely.”

“I have the feeling I know her so well. Sometimes I think we've met before… in our dreams.”

“Walter, darling…”

“No, don't make fun.”

“I'm not making fun. I hadn't realized how romantic you are.”

“I'm in love with your sister and I intend to marry her.”

“Well, then I suppose you shall.”

“If she'll have me. I do think she'll have me.”

“I think she's quite fond of you.”

“It's as if I've been keeping myself for her. My wife. Oh yes. It's fate, isn't it? She told me that at one point after John was lost she thought of returning to France forever. We'd never have met. I don't like travelling. I'm never comfortable out of England. Too much the Englishman and all that. And how would I find her? So you see, it must something ordered by the stars.”

“How poetic you are.”

“She smiles when I say it. But I can always see in her eyes that she thinks as I do. I can always see it.” He touched his lips. “You must think I'm silly.”

“I certainly don't think that.”

“There are practicalities, aren't there? She needs looking after and I've the means. Quite enough, I suppose. Although of course one never has enough, does one?”

“Perhaps not.”

He laughed softly. “Money is quite important, isn't it?”

“Yes, I should think so.”

“I don't like all this talk against money. All this nonsense about the rich. The rich put order in the world and then nasty names are thrown at them. Well, what can one expect from the rabble? Now they want porters and lift-boys to have weekends. You don't dislike money, do you? It's not French, is it?”

Now it was I who laughed. “I don't think so.”

“Do you mind? Do forgive me. I shouldn't go on like that. Please say you forgive me.”

“I forgive you.”

“You're quite beautiful. If I weren't so madly in love with Julie, I think I should make a fool of myself in pursuit of you.”

We meet again nearly a week later. This time Walter calls at the house for me and we drive in the park in a closed carriage. As before, he talks about Julie. Now he seems convinced she intends to reject him. “I think I see the signs of it. She's always affectionate, but I think I see the signs of it.”

I soothe him. “I know she's fond of you.”

“I don't think she wants me.”

“Perhaps it's too soon after the loss of John.”

“I'm terribly unhappy.”

“My sister is so uncertain about things.”

“Can you help me, Claire?”

“Walter, you must have patience.”

“Please… I beg you.”

“I don't know what I can do.”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.”

How helpless he is. “I'll try, darling.”

He begins to babble about his life. He talks about his loneliness. He talks about how much he needs her. “I think of her constantly. It's rather like a fever. I've never felt like this about a woman before. It's extraordinary. I hadn't thought it was possible. She's become the great passion of my life. I can't bear the thought of not having her as a wife. You will support me, won't you, Claire? She thinks highly of you. She always talks of how much she admires you.”

“You must keep on with it. You must keep after her, Walter. I'm certain you'll have what you want.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Perseverance, darling.”

“Yes, I think you're right.”

“It might be useful to remind her of things.”

“What things?”

“How much she needs you. How much she needs the comforts you can give her. I daresay a gift of some sort would be suitable.”

“A necklace?”

“That's a marvelous idea. Quite perfect. Something elegant and at the same time romantic.”

He beams. “I'll find something.”

“Yes, you must. And I promise I'll talk to her. I'll press your case whenever I see the chance for it.”

He bubbles with gratitude. “Claire, darling… I'll be in your debt forever. How marvelous it is to have your help. I must be the most fortunate man on earth. My life has been blessed by two extraordinary women. Parisian women. I think I'll now consider myself an eternal friend of France.”

“But you must promise to keep trying.”

“Yes of course.”

I tell him he has excellent prospects. Julie needs a husband and he has all the qualities a woman might want in a man. How pleased he is. His eyes shine as he considers his future with Julie. And why not? If she has to marry someone, why not Walter Bramsby? His cheeks are flushed. He holds my hand and proclaims his indebtedness to me. As the carriage rolls on, he inundates me with gratitude. Once again he tells me he would pursue me were it not for his love for Julie. “How lovely you are.”

I smile. “You'll make me blush.”

“Do you really believe Julie will accept me?”

“You're a charming man and she'd be a fool not to.”

“Do you really think so?

“I suspect you're quite capable with women. You are, aren't you, Walter? Oh yes, I can tell.”

He still holds my hand. He flatters me. He says I have the most beautiful eyes. He says I'm one of the few women who have ever understood him. How amusing he is. The way he babbles. I glance at the front of his trousers and find his arousal is evident. Is it Julie or myself? I believe it's me. I want it to be me. How lovely to have it me and not Julie. I glance at it boldly. I imagine I can see the throbbing. He pets my hand. I want to touch him but I refrain. No, not yet. Walter is such a child. One mustn't rush things. His breathing is heavy. His eyes dance as he chatters about some silly painting he's bought. I want to see his tool. I want him quivering as I stroke him, as I hold him in my hand. One wonders about dimensions. I think a man ought to be impressive. The vital part, of course. That's not silly, is it? I don't like disappointments. I like to have them extraordinary. Yes, extraordinary. Something to admire. Something sturdy. Definitely not puny. One doesn't want them puny. Thick around as my wrist and as long as can be. Claire, darling, you're losing your senses. How long? Oh dear, I couldn't say. Something substantial. One always wants something substantial.

“Do you kiss her?”

“Kiss her?”

I laugh. “Walter, darling, do you kiss Julie? You don't mind if I ask, do you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then you must tell me.”

“The answer is yes.”

“And what else? If I'm to be your confidante, you must tell me everything.”

He groans. “Everything?”

“Yes, darling, everything. You must tell me everything.”

He finally admits to it. The intimacy that exists between himself and my sister. The kissing. The touching. He blushes as he talks. He stammers. I laugh. “I was right about you. You're a man who mesmerizes women.”

“It's not true.”

“You've mesmerized my sister.”

“Claire, I haven't. It's not like that at all.”

“Do you make her swoon?”

“It's not like that.”

“Then like what? What is it like? Tell me, Walter. Tell me everything. I won't let you refuse. I demand to know everything.”

The truth slowly emerges. The kisses. The fondling of my sister's breasts. She allows him that. Walter stutters. I begin to understand it. She always has him lick her. He licks her until she spends. Then she milks him. She tells him she likes to watch the spurting. She always milks him with her hand.

“Is that enough? Don't you want more than that?”

He groans. How helpless he is. “I… really, Claire, it's not possible to discuss it.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I said kiss me.”

His eyes are empty. His face moves towards mine. He kisses my lips. The kiss becomes warm. He feels my tongue. I press against him, intrude my tongue between his lips. He murmurs something. His arms enfold me. “Claire, darling…”

“Kiss me again.”

Now the kiss is wet and deep. He groans against my lips. “Good Lord…”

“Don't you like it?”

“I adore it.'

“Poor Walter. You do love Julie, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we should stop this.”

“Claire, please…”

I touch his cheek. I glance down at the front of his trousers and he blushes as I smile. His arousal is evident. He babbles as I gaze at the evidence. How amusing he is. At full stand in his trousers. I tease him. I touch his coat, his waistcoat, the gold chain of his watch.

“Do you like it when Julie touches you?”

He makes a sound of assent.

“Then I shall do it also. You want me to, don't you? You must tell me you want it.”

“Darling…”

I touch him. Tickling touches. My fingers tickling along the length of it through his trousers. He's quite substantial. Substantial enough. Well-proportioned. “Walter, I'm flattered.”

His excitement is intense. “What an amazing woman you are.”

“I think I've astonished you. Have I astonished you, Walter? Yes, I think I have.”

His astonishment is complete in my hand. I feel the heat of it, the throbbing of his tool beneath my fingers. He shudders as I undo the buttons.

“Claire, I…”

“I want to see it.”

“I feel as though I'm betraying Edward.”

“Don't be silly.”

And then I have it. His tool exposed. Pink. Firm. Quivering beneath my fingertips. Walter shudders. I kiss his lips again. I tease him. My fingers tickling. How childish he is. Like a large boy. He takes my free hand and kisses it. His lips upon my fingers. One hand at his lips. The other hand clasping his urgency.

“Tell me about Julie.”

“Julie?”

“What does she do? Does she stroke you like this? Up and down like this?”

I insist that he tell me. I want to know how she fondles him. He mumbles as he tells me. I have him tell me again. He says Julie's caresses drive him mad. He says she teases him until he feels at the brink of madness. When he's with her, it's almost as if she's cast a spell over him. He finds himself completely helpless. I imagine it. I have a complete image of it as I fondle his tool. She strokes him, milks him, toys with him. Then she has him kneeling at her feet. She has him nuzzling, sniffing at her drawers. She has him struggling to get at her. His hands at her drawers. Her sex finally revealed. He cries out as his mouth covers her. He groans as he feeds between her thighs.

“But you like it.”

“I can't help it.”

“Poor darling. My sister is so demanding, isn't she? She ought to be more gentle with you. My poor little darling.”

How sturdy he is. The carriage rolls on. Walter gazes down at my stroking hand.

“It's frightening.”

“Frightening, darling?”

“I keep thinking it's her. But it's not her. It's not Julie.”

Most definitely not. I shall be annoyed at you if you confuse us.”

“Claire, darling…”

“You mustn't think of her. Not now. Oh my, you're almost there, aren't you? Your handkerchief, darling. We don't want to soil your trousers, do we?”

His handkerchief appears. I cover his tool. A moment later he gasps as he spends. A deep groan. My hand continues moving. My fingers gripping him. He calls out as he spurts again. The words are too garbled to make them out.

Julie is uncertain. She sips her tea with a vagueness in her eyes. “I don't know if I want to again. I mean it's not necessary, is it?”

“Not necessary?”

“Well, yes, I suppose it is. I suppose I ought to do what people expect of me.”

“Darling, you must do what makes you happy.”

“I don't have anything. If I had something, I wouldn't. I don't really like it, you know. I don't like being a wife. Not when it's just ordinary. An ordinary marriage. The stupid hours. The dinner parties. I hate dinner parties. John always liked a full calendar of dinner parties.”

“Oh dear.”

“I think you ought to be thankful Edward isn't like that.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I don't know about Walter. Oh yes, I suppose he'd make a decent husband. I suppose I ought to. If he wants me. I suppose I ought to.”

“Julie, he does want you.”

“One wants to be settled.”

“Yes, darling.”

“I should like my own house, my own comforts.”

“Don't you think it would best?”

“I don't know.”

“Darling Julie.”

“You see, I'm not certain of anything. It's awful, isn't it?”

“I do think you ought to marry him.”

“Will I be… happy? There were times when I wasn't quite happy with John. I never told you, did I? Well, one never tells everything. I'm not sure I even knew it. And if I didn't know it, I couldn't tell you, could I?”

“I suppose not.”

“John could be so dull. Men do have the capacity for a monstrous dullness. So completely dull.”

“On occasion.”

“He was so fascinated with the ground as seen from his balloon. But down on the ground, he wasn't much of anything, was he? Is it horrible of me to say that? Down on the ground he wasn't much of anything at all.”