The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Club de Topinambours was not the only place that night where confessions and confidences were exchanged.

In a little boudoir on the Boulevard St. Michel sat the two women who had caused the gentlemen so many headaches and heartbreaks. Their whispered conversation was repeatedly interrupted with a clear happy laughter.

“Why,” Florentine asked her sister, “didn't you come to Charmettes yesterday to tell me everything about your experiences of that previous night?”

“Well, I was surprised not to find you in the carriage, because I did use the secret stairs of our mysterious Buenretiro, exactly as Dorothy had told me to do.”

“And I had asked Dorothy to let you know. Do you think she forgot about it?”

“Impossible, your chambermaid never forgets anything. She did tell me that you were very tired. Of course, I did not believe that at all. What was the matter?”

“My dear God, nothing of importance. I had to make a whole series of social visits. Besides, there was a lot to think about.”

“Like what?”

“About the cliffhangers and the dangers that are part of these adventures. I wonder if those constantly changing scenes will really dispel the boredom of being a widow.”

“Were you disappointed that night?”

“More or less. God knows I tried hard, but I must admit that I did not even begin to feel the delights in the arms of Raoul which I would feel by merely looking at Gaston. I did, of course, reach a climax. The physical sensation was pleasant while it lasted, but the moment he was off me, it had disappeared.”

“No,” Julia continued, “as far as I am concerned I must admit that I made a grave mistake. What can I say? One thing is for sure; I never want to see that big, blond, conceited lout again. He is just a perennial mixer. All interest in him is gone the moment you turn away from him. His looks just promise more than the poor creature can deliver. I don't know whether it is a lack of mutual attraction, whether it is him, or me… and frankly, I don't care. I don't even want to talk about him any longer. Yesterday, for instance, I was at a soiree at the home of Madame de Bourmond. I danced twice with him, we had the most asinine conversation, and all that time I looked at him, thinking, 'What if he knew?'”

“You mean that he really did not recognize you?”

“Not in the least! Our precautions are absolutely foolproof. But now you tell me, darling, how was your evening?”

“Well, frankly, I had selected him because he was so wild and so divine at Madam Lucy's. But now I am even more enchanted with him. He is an entirely different person…”

“Aren't they all?” murmured Julia.

“He is charming, obliging, kind and-above all-delicate. In his arms I have tasted all the happiness one can expect in love. At least, as far as a man is concerned. I am afraid about one thing only…”

“And that is that little Cherub will not remain your only child. Am I right?”

“You must admit that it is a point which one cannot lightly overlook.”

“Oh, come on! Trust your luck. If you don't dare to gamble, you will never have a chance to win! And even if it were to happen, all we have to do is to make a little trip, and the whole affair would be over and done with. In other words, you are going to see Maxim de Berny again?”

“Tomorrow! And I am so overjoyed at the thought that I can hardly wait. Because, unless I am terribly mistaken, this man knows how to make love. He makes love exactly the way it should be done.”

“What on earth in your opinion is the proper way of making love?”

“Well, it consists far more of certain sweet nothings than…”

“Oh, you poor child! What a miserable system to live on! Don't you realize that these enchanting preliminaries are only designed to whet your appetite? You don't walk away from a table hungry after you have nibbled a few snacks, do you? You can't just enjoy a few preliminaries of love, and then have your partner walk away from you! And not only that! For heaven's sake, dear sister, don't start convincing yourself that such is the natural and desirable state of your love life! You would wind up a nervous wreck!”

“Oh, no, no! One only has to know what to do when the appetite has been aroused.”

“That sounds good. And do you know how? It's almost amusing, dear Florentine. I hope that it is not some offbeat little secret my Dorothy has told you?”

“Oh, no, not at all. On the contrary, Dorothy insists that using artificial means might kill me, or at least it would age me years before my time. But she did show me some exercises with my thighs, recommending this as one of the means which nature so generously provides to reach a healthy orgasm. But I do admit that this would not shut out the possibility that I could fall deeply in love with Maxim. If he were only capable of understanding me completely.”

“Sister, dear, you want too much. I hope that you won't give away our little secret.”

“Of course not.”

“Please, don't forget it. It is terribly difficult to keep secrets from a lover with whom you are sharing your bed.”

“And whom are you going to invite the next time?” Florentine wanted to change the subject. “After all, the poor young Count de Paliseul has fallen from your graces!”

“Oh I don't know, yet. I'll think about it.”

“Fine, while you think about it, I am going to take my little Cherub for a walk in the Jardins des Luxembourg.”

The two sisters each went their own way, and Julia ordered her driver to take her to the Salon des Beaux-Arts where, just a few days before, a new art exhibition had opened.

It was quite obvious that the show had opened only very recently, because the place was crowded, not only with artists and art lovers, but above all with those people who want to be seen at the “right places” in Parisian society. That they far outnumbered the real connoisseurs was immediately obvious when one caught snatches of their meaningless chatter while they strolled past the various exhibitions.

Madame de Corriero was not an artist in the real sense of the word. She could barely hold a brush, and she had not the slightest idea of how to hold a chisel. But her sense of beauty and poetry was natural and highly developed. She was especially entranced by those works of art where the artist had obviously poured his heart out, even though his work might not be acceptable by conventional standards.

She walked, rather aimlessly, through the exhibition halls, looking left and right. Now she would shrug her shoulder and then she would suddenly be captivated by something she saw, losing herself in reverie for many minutes.

Suddenly she stopped in front of a huge painting. She was afraid that the judges had ranked it at the bottom of the list, but she was captivated by the enchanting picture. It was nothing complicated-a forest scene, a big tree and a young couple in love. But it was this young, loving couple which caught her attention. The artist had succeeded in capturing that wonderful moment for two lovers when the world stops, and there is no one but themselves left in the entire universe. Though the painting had many technical mistakes, the artist had succeeded perfectly in showing a woman completely absorbed in the man she loves, and a man for whom the world consists only of his female partner. A ray of the setting sun brushed across the face of a beautiful young man in love.

Julia opened her catalogue to check who might be the painter. She fully intended to acquire this beautiful work. But suddenly she started, because before her, in the flesh and smiling, stood the young man from the painting. He greeted her with a mixture of respect and amusement.

“Since the painting seems to interest you, Madame, allow me to save you the trouble of looking up the name of the man who committed this deed. Michael Lompret, at your service, and I hope that you like me as much now as when I was considerably younger.”

Michael Lompret, the young man from the painting, had indeed matured in the way the painting had promised. He was no longer in the early spring of his life, but had reached the stage of summer-in full glory. He was tall, slim, wide-shouldered, and his hands were slender yet strong. It was obvious that his arms and legs were powerful. He was the perfect picture of elegant strength. His sharp features were framed by beautiful black curls, and his little beard was reddish and carefully trimmed, leaving his strong, red lips free. Ooh, those lips! They seemed to be made for kissing.

The clear blue eyes of the young man stared in open admiration at Madame de Corriero. They lit up at what they saw, which might not have been socially acceptable, but it sent shivers up Julia's spine, and it left no doubt what the young man would do if given only the slightest encouragement. Julia tried to regain her composure.

“Sir,” she said, slightly reserved, yet without pride, “I am very grateful for your assistance, but, please, don't let me take up your time simply because I was momentarily surprised by the likeness of you and the young man in the painting.”

“You don't know how happy you make me, Madame. You think that I look like this boy? That makes me at least ten years younger.”

“It is not a coincidence?”

“No, no, that was me at the age of twenty. And a little girl from the country, my first love. I believe she was sixteen,” he added with a melancholy smile.

“You mean that you are the painter?”

“I told you that I have either the honor or the misfortune to be the one.”

“I would call it fortune, Monsieur Lompret,” Julia smiled. “This painting personifies the spring of your productive years, and may be the beginning of your fame. It is obvious, though, that you have not yet reached your peak. But I have become curious, and I would like to know how the story in the painting ended.”

Michael hesitated a moment, and then he said, “It is impossible to set the clock back. We cannot, no matter how much we would like to, let fleeting time stop for one single second. Time has completed its banal destruction. Like a beautiful rose, she lived only one summer. Every year, on the anniversary of that first kiss, I exhibit the painting I did when I heard that she was no longer alive. I did have great expectations from this work of art and did not expect the Art Commission to hide it away in this miserable little corner.”

“It did not prevent me from discovering it.”

“True… maybe I should rejoice instead of complaining.”

“As a matter of fact, if I can get the artist's permission, I have every intention of buying this wonderful painting.”

“Sell it? To you? Such a beautiful lady? Madame, that is against nature. I would be enormously pleased, though, if you would accept it as a gift…”

“That,” interrupted Julia quickly, “is a matter between me and the Art Commission with whom I intend to deal. Monsieur Michael, it was a pleasure having met you, and I hope that the feeling was mutual.” And with these words Julia de Corriero seemed to have ended the conversation.

“But I would never forgive myself, if I could not see you again.”

“See me again? What gives you that idea?”

“I can think of no reason why that should be so strange. I admit that I am an artist, and not a man of rank. But when I meet a woman who looks like Vends herself, I simply lose my head-of course, only as far as the prejudices of society are concerned. I promise that I Would never lose respect, and I have already begun to adore you. I can feel that you are taking possession of my mind and heart. As a matter of fact I can feel it clearly.”

“Really,” countered Julia with a smile. “And may I ask, if you are so much in love all of a sudden, are you in the habit of watching what you are doing?”

“But naturally! Because I am only in love when I can adore!”

“You better watch what you say, sir. You have already told me that you adore me…”

“How do I know what I am saying! All I can see is that you are able to walk away from me, and it tears out my heart!”

“Now, that would be too bad. I could not have such slaughter on my conscience. Well, since you have assured me that you will respect me, I could decide to…”

“You could decide what? Oh, please speak!”

“I could put you in a position to teach me your theories about love. They seem to me a notch above the average, and they are clearly unconventional. I am intrigued.”

“Oh, how sweet of you! Unfortunately, it is a long story, and I am afraid that the exhibition is about to close.”

“You are right. What a pity. And the world is so evil-thinking. You may not be aware of the demands of society.”

“Madame, I am the son of General Lompret,” the young man said proudly.

“Well, in that case, there are seemingly no objections for us to meet when the exhibition closes in a few minutes. My carriage will be waiting for you at the exit.”

Michael was a little bit stunned at the sudden turn of events, but he was tremendously pleased when the splendid equipage spirited him and the beautiful Woman away from Paris.

“Sir,” Julia said, as Paris disappeared in the distance, “you know that I am eagerly awaiting your explanations about the theory of love. I am all ears.”

“Madame, how could you, since you obviously possess a brilliant mind and spirit, talk so cold-bloodedly about the one and only true religion. The religion of the heart, based upon the adoration of beauty and the search for the highest fulfillment of love.”

“You must admit that this religion has a tinge of paganism.”

“Paganism must have been marvelous! All the religions that followed have only shown us how beautiful paganism was. A time when men were men, instead of groveling eunuchs. The people in those times must have been beautiful.”

“You seem to be making quite a case!”

“Madame, everything that makes my heart go quicker is worth my making love to it. I am an artist. My feelings are my own, and it is my responsibility to make them as beautiful as possible. All things that are not directly related to nature are bad. There is a strange and compelling relationship between an artist's feelings, his mind and his body. It has to be in harmony, or he is miserable and cannot create the beautiful things he dreams of. True, I admit that quite often it is a physical desire and a physical satisfaction which brings us our best inspiration. But, alas, society does not always allow us to give full rein to our imagination.”

His vibrant voice, his passionate looks and the implications of his speech charged the interior of the small carriage with a large amount of electricity which was now waiting to be discharged.

“You know that the best way to convince me,” Madame de Corriero smiled, “is to prove to me that you truly belong to that small, select group who know how to love.”

“I have always tried to follow the admonition in the Gospels, 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'”

“With the best will of the world, I couldn't possibly want more. Tell me something, have you ever found anyone who was a complete soundboard to your feelings? You must have searched long enough.”

“Unfortunately, never. Whenever I thought to behold the perfect woman, she disappeared like a mirage. I am afraid that I shall die without ever having tasted the perfection of love about which I dream.”

“Oh? I would not give up all hope, if I were you.”

“I hope you don't find me too forward, when I admit that I had hoped to find my ideal when I saw you this afternoon at the exhibition. You are not an ordinary woman, and you, too, know that one must be slightly mad in order to be completely in love. Two souls cannot mingle unless the bodies have become one.”

Julia was visibly moved by Michael's forceful speech, and she did not pull away her hand when he put his strong fingers around hers. He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly at first, then more passionately, and finally his hot lips pressed vibrantly against her trembling mouth, his tongue searching for the moist cavity, brushing against her pearly-white teeth. She let him do with her as he pleased, floating as if in a dream. All she could think about was to tenderly nibble on his earlobe and play with the tip of her tongue around his cheeks, neck and massive shoulders.

Suddenly the carriage stopped. Julia scribbled a few lines on a card, put the card in an envelope and handed it to a servant who was waiting outside the carriage.

“Give this to her Ladyship, immediately.” Then she changed her mind. “Wait, help us out of the coach, and drive up to the house.”

Carriage and servant disappeared in the distance and Michael was alone with Madame de Corriero at the edge of a forest.

“If I am not too impudent,” he said, “where are we?”

“On the other side of Bondy Forest,” the young woman answered with a smile. “Are you afraid?”

“Only for what I might do… but, don't be afraid, I won't do it.”

“I would not be afraid. On the contrary! You are giving me an entirely new perspective, and you have shown me that love can exist in a form which I had hitherto never thought possible.”

“You are much too charming never to have been loved, and too sensitive never to have given it.”

“I am not denying that. But nothing has ever made my heart go quicker than the vision you have given me. It makes me feel a little sad, because I am afraid that only those who can conceive of those lofty ideals will be able to enjoy the greatest happiness.”

“And would you allow me…”

“What?”

“To introduce you to this supreme ecstasy?”

“And would you think wrongly of me when I asked you to come with me?”

“To where?”

“My home, of course. Any other place would be unthinkable.”

“I could not think of anything more pleasant. But, please, dear lady friend, we have known each other, it seems to me, for ages now, and I still do not know your name. I cannot keep calling you Madame.”

“Call me Madcap.”

“Madcap? That's no name for you! You are a lady of high society, that is obvious! But, if you want, Madcap it is!”

“That just fine, friend Michael. Now, give me your strong arm, and let's walk.”

“Company! March,” Michael exclaimed happily. The adventure began to intrigue him more and more.

Soon they entered one of those long driveways, bordered by giant elm trees, which led to a Louis XIII castle, modernized, with fountains, waterfowl, exotic trees… needless to repeat ourselves, dear reader, it is obvious that the couple had arrived at Charmettes.

“What a beautiful mansion,” Michael exclaimed. “How happy you must be to live here!”

“This is not my home,” Julia quickly answered, “it belongs to a friend of mine who is on a vacation, and who has asked me to stay here a while.”

“Before I enter,” Michael said, “you must promise me to visit me in my atelier.”

“I would love that.”

The carriage which had brought Julia and her newfound lover had now taken Florentine to the home on the Boulevard St. Michel. The servants had strict orders to treat Julia as if she Were the Lady of the Manor.

Dinner was ready to be served, and both Julia and Michael were hungry from the long trip. They talked about poetry, art, some of the artists were praised to heaven, and others were cast in the depth of hell.

Dinner was over and Julia arose. Michael, too, got up, and Julia said to him, “Why don't you lie down on the couch and make yourself comfortable?”

Curious, he did as he was told. He stretched out on his back, pillowing his head on his arm, watching her feline movements. She slowly removed her dress, carelessly dropping it on the floor. Next came her bodice, her chemise, and finally she was draped only in a thin, gauze garment. Michael caught his breath at the provocative sensuality that radiated from his Madcap. He could clearly discern the sumptuous, proud, jutting globes of her breasts, the dark coral aureoles and, in their sweet centers, crinkly ripely developed nipples. The filmy, thin garment clung to her hips, buttocks and upper thighs like a second skin. She turned slightly _ to one side and his eyes glistened at the sight of those two tightly set, upstanding and rounded, resilient bottom cheeks. She slowly removed her shoes and stockings. Her buttocks quivered and contracted in a way that showed the ambery, shadowy succulence of their separation. For the moment, she stood with her back to him, then her hands reached back to the bandeau which fastened the garment. It fluttered to the floor and she turned slowly to face him. Her breasts surged out, rising and falling very quickly. The satiny skin was flawless, velvety smooth, and her naked nipples were larger than he had first supposed them, partially hardened because of her erotic excitement.

The curving goblet of her belly was kissed deeply and widely by the umbilical niche, and then came the thick, curly raven-black triangle of fleece which covered the appetizingly plump, soft pink lips of her delicious Venus mound. She moved slowly toward him, asking demurely, “Do I please you, Michael?”

“All you have to do is use your eyes for an answer, my darling Madcap,” he answered hoarsely. Julia's eyes glinted, because his cock was thrusting out with ferocious obstinacy. The turgid, dark-blue veins surged against the taut skin of his shaft.

“My goodness, I guess I do at that,” she murmured. She knelt down before him and her lips grazed the huge pink-skinned knob. He felt her bestow a series of rapid little kisses all over it, and his enormous weapon tilted up higher so that she had to lift her head to follow it. He cupped her flushed, warm cheeks with his hands, watching her intently. A tremendous excitement flowed through his body when he watched this beautiful woman perform her oral admiration on his prick.

He whispered, “Enough, my darling… I… I… can't hold it much longer.”

She smiled. “Can we do it this way?”

“You mean with you on top? Recommended for lazy lovers. Dear Madcap, I am completely in your powers. You are the mistress of ceremonies in your own home. Go ahead… you lead, and I will follow.”

Julia knelt on the couch, moving slowly over his accommodating thighs. She reached down her left hand to his tool, taking hold of the middle of the pulsating shaft. With thumb and forefinger of her other hand she slowly parted the soft, fleshy lips of her slit. Then, very slowly, tantalizingly, she lowered herself upon Michael's throbbing, impaling prick. He closed his eyes, shuddering with delight as he felt the tight, hot clamp of her love shaft cover his wildly throbbing organ. He hoped fervently that he would be able to hold himself in, because he did not want to spoil this wonderful experience by coming right now.

“Aaah… little Madcap… that is wonderful. Oh, you gorgeous little miracle… now that you have it all inside you, come down here where I can hold onto you. I want to show you that we are fully matched.”

Michael was housed to the hilt inside Julia's tight, hot quim. Their pubic hairs merged in an exquisitely exciting friction. Slowly Julia sank down over Michael's broad chest, her ripe juicy breasts mashing against his swelling muscles, locking her velvety smooth arms under his powerful shoulders, fusing her avid, warm and moist mouth to his. His hands gripped her full buttocks, squeezing her tightly. Experimentally, slowly, Julia arched herself a little and Michael felt his cock retreat from its delicious, warm haven. Then, with a little gasp of ecstasy, she returned all of him to her bower.

Michael took a deep breath, and then he began to join his rhythm to that of his newfound mistress. The naked beauty on top of him began to wriggle, undulate and squirm. She arched herself, only to sink back down on him with ever-quickening movements. His rigid ramrod burrowed savagely into the convulsing channel behind her moistening quim.

Michael began to pant. He could feel the wild spasms of his little Madcap. His fingers dug deeper into the satiny bottom globes, regulating her movements now, guessing from the weavings and contractions of her voluptuous bare backside the precise tempo of her self-impalement.

“Give… my darling Madcap… give,” he almost shouted. “Don't worry about my keeping up with you. I am ready anytime… yes… now, now! Aaah!!!”

He felt the torrential, explosive power in his loins break past his power of self-control while, at the same moment, Julia, her eyes rolling, humid and glazed, uttered hoarse and wordless cries of incredible rapture. She ground herself against him, her nails dug hard in his back as his fingers kneaded her buttocks. The quake seized them both and nearly threw them to the floor. Entwined, mouth crushing against mouth and tongues slithering together,' they lay motionless together for an eternity. Only the faint sound of tiny, sobbing breaths escaped them.

Finally they got up. Julia, threw a huge Persian scarf around her shoulders, which covered her completely. Michael began to put on his clothes.

“Who you are, my dearest Madcap, I do not know. I do know that I have just felt within my grasp the heavenly moments I have always waited for. You do not have to tell me, ever if you don't want to, what your name is. What could a name tell me that I do not know about you already? But please, my dear Madcap, assure me again that I have your solid promise. Will you visit me at my studio? Shall we have breakfast together? And can I say that I hope to see you soon?”

“My dear friend, I always keep my word. I shall see you the day after tomorrow.”

Michael left, his heart filled with song and joy. Julia went to the suite she always occupied when she visited Charmettes. She, too, discovered that her heart was no longer empty. She could barely count the hours till she would be together again with her divine artist.