The voluptuous young girl stirred restlessly on the rumpled bed. Her eyes fluttered open and fought with the darkness that permeated the thick stale air of the shabby room. Strange odors wafted through her nostrils, causing her brow to wrinkle slightly as though in deep concentrated thought. Her tongue circled her lips, tasting the slight pungency of a sticky moistness around them.
Her eyes adjusted quizzically to the darkness and followed her form lying on the bed below. It was a strange position she thought to herself through the haze that still dimmed her half-sleep mind.
Her negligee was bunched almost around her neck and she could see the twin peaks of her breasts lying loosely between her eyes and the rest of her body. Her legs were spread wide apart as though in invitation to some phantom lover standing at the foot of the bed.
After a moment it came to her through the dimness. The dream! The dream she had; it had seemed so real!
The vividness of it began flickering across her mind as though she were watching a slightly out of focus television screen. Her body ached terribly.
She smoothed her hands carefully up to her breasts, touching them gently in guarded exploration. Ohhh, she moaned, they were tender. Her hands explored farther, coursing their way down over her stomach to her still open thighs. She groaned again, as her fingers touched tenderly the slight bruises lining the soft edges of her vagina. Her finger probed carefully around the red sensitive opening, the tips becoming moist from the white sticky liquid that oozed viscously from it, wetting the split of her buttocks and the bed beneath.
Had Kevin really been here? The shadowy form that remained in her memory and had probed and tasted every secret part of her being had seemed so real. It had all seemed so real. Had she done it to herself?
Thoughts raced through her mind one after another. It was possible that she had. She had done it before in extreme moments of frustration but never like this. She had never gone to this extreme even in her wildest moments of desire. Could her own hands have probed so deep into her stomach and left this hot wet pool that seemed lodged there now? Could they have made her gush forth so many times in climax to soak the bed beneath her the way it was now? It had to be. There was no other explanation. She had gone completely out of her mind in her dream and had fondled her own body to the point of believing it was actually Kevin. She had done those things with her own hands and her body had reacted like that of a dirty animal in heat.
A feeling of shame came over her. She had denied her own husband the right to do those things to her, a right that was his, and then sought her own release by her own hands playing upon her body. How selfish she had been. If she hadn't left Paris perhaps the dream would have come true, perhaps Kevin wouldn't have gone insane the next time. She had been too prudish in their sexual relationship she now realized and his brutal attack on her had been brought about by her lack of understanding of his needs. The dream had proved it. Hadn't she herself turned half animal, even to the point of wantonly satisfying herself with her own probing fingers and hands.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a gentle knocking on the door. A voice called softly from outside.
"Jean, Jean dear, time to wake up."
She recognized Monique's voice and suddenly panicked.
"Oh, my God," she mumbled to herself, stumbling to her feet. "I mustn't let her see me like this. I just mustn't."
"Just a moment, I'm getting up now," she called back.
"Never mind, dear, I'm going to my room and get ready. I'll see you for dinner in an hour. Dress pretty, I've a surprise place for dinner tonight."
"Alright, Monique," Jean answered in relief. "I'll knock on your door when I'm ready."
Jean turned on the light and looked at the rumpled bed. Well, she thought, as her eyes saw the large round wet spot where her buttocks had lain, I really had myself a time. I guess there's no need in crying over spilled milk. I did it and I can't change that. After all, it was only a dream, I shouldn't feel guilty about something I couldn't control.
The warm spray of the shower felt good cascading down over her body. She washed carefully the insides of her thighs and buttocks, almost reluctant to wash away the sticky still-warm fluid from her soft pubic hair. As her fingers moved up and down the warmth of the narrow slit between her legs, cleansing it of the viscous almost dry liquid, the visions of Kevin's shadowy face smashed tightly between her yawning thighs ran through her mind. Her middle finger duplicated his lashing tongue that had flicked through her throbbing cunt lips so many long minutes before. Jean had to catch herself with her strength to withdraw her probing finger from between her legs.
The feeling of guilt returned. Good Lord, she thought to herself, what's happened to me. One small dream about sex and I'm turning into a shameless nymphomaniac. I do need Kevin, and badly.
She combed out her long dark silken hair before the mirror, letting it drape loosely down over her shoulders.
"Mmmmm," she mused to herself, that looks provocative enough. Monique said to dress well, and after my little self-inflicted orgy, I guess this is the best I can do. She noticed suddenly that the curl that usually hung down on her left shoulder was missing. What a careless nit, she scolded herself. How could I have cut that off? I thought I had been careful when I trimmed my hair last night on the train. Before she could pursue the thought any further, she heard Monique's familiar voice outside the door, calling to her to join her downstairs at the desk when she was finished.
"Well, dear, you look just ravishing tonight, I must say." Monique beamed at her as she descended the steps a few moments later. This made Jean feel wonderful. She needed something as a morale builder now and a compliment from another woman was just the thing. She always felt it was more sincere coming from another woman as they had nothing to gain by lying to you. It was good to start an evening with this kind of feeling. She handed her key to the obsequious Arab clerk, not even looking at him. The look he had given her, up and down her body, when he had brought the tea had not been forgotten and she decided that ignoring him completely was the best way to handle this.
The Arab grinned to himself as the American girl disdainfully passed the keys to him. The last time he had seen that pretty face, it was contorted in passion and she was begging him to fuck her. He wondered, smiling to himself, how those lipstick-covered lips had tasted when she had awakened. Arrogant bitch, she probably hadn't ever sucked a cock so didn't even know what it was. Well, he would take care of that little oversight before she got out of the hotel.
I wonder what she would say now if she knew she was carrying my hot load in that untouchable little belly of hers, he mused as he watch them descend the stairs to the street floor. She might just come back for more, he laughed to himself, fingering the curl of hair he had cut off as a souvenir just before leaving her room earlier.
Jean sipped contentedly on her second martini. She was happy, sitting high above Marseille overlooking the lights of the bay in the delightful restaurant Monique had chosen for them. She had wired Kevin before they left the hotel to come down immediately. The upsetting dream she had so realistically experienced this afternoon had made up her mind for her. It had even given her a feeling of confidence. She knew now she could enjoy bodily pleasures and if Kevin could ever become the kind of lover he was in her dreams then a whole new world was open to them. She took another deep sip from the smooth martini contemplating excitedly the full complete life they could have sharing each other.
"You look preoccupied, Jean," Monique said, smiling at her across the table. "I hope my company isn't boring you."
"Oh, no, no, Monique," Jean said apologetically, "I love being here with you. In fact, you may not know it but this trip with you has changed my whole thinking about life."
"That's quite a statement, my dear," the older woman replied, an amused tone in her voice, "I think you're being a little dramatic about it."
"No, no, I'm not. I mean it. I truly do," Jean defended. She didn't want to hurt Monique's feelings. She had done so much for her just being around to help. The small things she had done, like getting her to a hotel and being there to talk to on the train, had taken her mind off her problem long enough for her to relax and look at it again with less prejudice than before. And, of course, leaving her alone this afternoon had been the turning point. If she hadn't been in such a relaxed mood, she probably would never have had the dream and consequently never realized just how much she did need her husband.
"Then you must tell me about this great change that I've brought about without even knowing it," Monique said lightly but with understanding. "My impression is that you've everything already that life could offer someone so young and pretty."
Jean was grateful for the sincerity in the older woman's voice and felt that she did owe her an explanation. Besides, she was bursting to talk with someone about it and there just couldn't be a more understanding person in the world than Monique. She felt so close and so dependent on her at this moment.
Jean hurriedly gulped the rest of her drink, wondering how she could explain without going too far. After all, she didn't want even Monique knowing everything. It was too embarrassing and made her feel like such a child.
"May I have another martini," she asked. "I think I'll need it to be able to even tell this silly story to you."
"Of course you may, I'll join you." Monique signaled the waiter who returned within moments with their refills. Jean took a large sip, feeling the smooth liquid hit bottom and bolstering her courage. They were beginning to have their effect. She could feel the light-headed sensation calming her inhibitions even before she had finished the last one, otherwise she would not have had the courage to even mention her problem. This last sip had dampened them completely and she was feeling as though she could at least tell Monique a few things about the ridiculous mess she had gotten herself into.
"Dear, you seem hesitant," Monique said, reaching across the table and touching her hand warmly. "If it's something you had rather not talk about then don't. I just thought I might be able to help."
"Oh, no, it's not that important," Jean said blushing slightly, not knowing quite how to begin. "It's just about a dream I had this afternoon while you were gone."
"Well then tell me, Jean, you know it sometimes helps to talk to someone else about your problems. I think we know each other well enough by now to share our burdens."
Jean began from the beginning, telling Monique about her courting days with Kevin and how she had sometimes hoped he would force her into submitting to him but would never encourage it. About her father and his instilling the ideas of purity until marriage into her young mind and the guilt complex it had left her with about sex even now that she was married. The horrible rape she had been forced to submit to in Paris by Kevin, though she made excuses for him to Monique, blaming herself for her puritan attitude toward intercourse. Finally, toward the end of the dinner, she had come to the dream.
"It was beautiful, Monique. If making love were always like that, I know I would never feel guilty again. It just seems as though everything he did to me was right and I felt so wonderful and so free to return his love. I gave him everything I had and I still wanted to give more."
There was a long pause, until Jean finally said with a shrug of her shoulders, "Well, that's all, you've heard the story of my whole love life. I guess it seems so silly to a woman like you who's lived as much as you have."
"Quite the contrary, my dear, I think it's a beautiful story and I hope it turns out the way you think it will."
"I just know it's going to be wonderful, Monique. When Kevin arrives tomorrow, everything will be alright again."
"You mean your husband is coming here tomorrow?" Monique asked, concern suddenly showing on her face. This could drastically interfere with her plans for this naive little American.
"Why, yes, I sent him a cable before we left the hotel. He'll be taking the train tonight and arriving tomorrow. Is there anything wrong?" Jean was afraid Monique had suddenly become ill, she looked so strange.
"No, no, my dear," Monique choked, "just a slight wave of nausea, it happens sometimes when I eat rich food this way. Don't you worry. I'll be alright in just a moment."
It was difficult for Monique to finish her dinner. She knew she had some fast thinking to do if she was to save her investment. She had not counted on this complication even though she had known the American had been married. It was going to be doubly difficult to accomplish her purpose with Gamal. Somehow she had to destroy this little innocent in the eyes of her husband and at the same time incite Gamal to the point where he would be willing to pay almost anything to have her at his mercy.
They finished dinner almost in silence. Jean said a few words of consolation to Monique about her discomfort but also could see she did not feel like talking at the same time. It appeared as though she had problems also and she would have given anything if she could have helped the woman as she had been so kind and understanding to her. She did not want to bring it up as she felt so young and helpless compared to the maturity of Monique and knew that if there was anything she could do, Monique would tell her.
Later, in the taxi on the way back to the hotel, Monique apologized. "I'm so sorry, my dear, that I feel this way. I had intended to take you out and show you some of the night life of Marseille after dinner but I just couldn't do it now."
"You've been so kind already, Monique," Jean answered, still feeling helpless that she could not help the older woman. "Perhaps if you feel better tomorrow night, we could all go together. You would love Kevin and I know he would like you."
"Yes, I think that would be better. I'm certain I can get away tomorrow evening. These spells seldom last more than one night. But we had better go now."
Jean noticed the obsequious grin of the Arab behind the desk as he gave them their keys for the room. His look had a knowing familiarity about it that she didn't like. Worse, he had rubbed his hand closely over hers when he had given her the key and his beady eyes appeared to undress her again as they had when he had delivered the tea that afternoon. She shuddered thinking about his greasy dirty appearance as she bid Monique goodnight and locked the door of her room behind her. How awful it would be to have those oily dark hands crawling over your body, she thought to herself. How do the women he makes love to stand it.
She thought about the cleanliness of Kevin and how good his smooth, well developed body would feel against hers tomorrow night. She had thought about their moving to a better hotel when he arrived, but had changed her mind. It would be good to have him here where the dream had occurred and on the same bed that her body had come to know for the first time the joys of physical union, even if it had only been in her mind. Besides, what could be more romantic than spending a few days in the old part of Marseille. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, looking forward with all her being to her husband's arrival tomorrow. It was going to be good for both of them, she just knew it would.