"Monsieur Taylor, Monsieur Taylor," the loudspeaker blared through the shouts of the porters and the cacophonous noises of the crowded railway station. "Message for you at the information desk."
Kevin motioned for the porter carrying his bags to follow him and walked toward the booth displaying the "Information" sign in English, French, and German. Kevin identified himself, and the small squat Frenchman behind the desk pointed toward a woman standing about fifteen feet away.
"The Madame standing there has requested we page you, Monsieur Taylor. Would you please speak with her."
Kevin thanked the clerk and quizzically walked toward the woman waiting for him. She obviously did not know who he was as she glanced past him without recognition as he approached her. This was strange, to be met by an unknown person in a city where he had never been before. It must be connected with Jean and he felt a lump of fear rising in his throat.
Had something happened to her, an accident, had she taken ill? He was almost afraid to speak to the woman for fear of being confronted with news of some horrible disaster. It just couldn't happen. He had raised his hopes so much on the train that things would straighten themselves out between them in Marseille and it frightened him to think that something may have happened to prevent their getting a second chance at it. He had a lot to make up to her and found himself praying silently now that she was all right.
He spoke hesitatingly to the woman. "H-Hello, I'm Kevin Taylor, the man at information said you had me paged."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Taylor, I should have recognized you from Jean's descriptions but then you Americans are all so handsome," the woman said, smiling at him as though she had known him all her life.
"Th-then Jean did send you?" he asked hurriedly, anxiety apparent in his voice. "Is something wrong? Where is she?"
"Just a moment, young man, don't get carried away. Jean is fine and waiting for you," she assured him. "I'll explain it all to you on the way to the hotel. A crowded train station is no place to discuss the problems of newlyweds."
Monique instructed the porter to get them a taxi and they followed him out of the station. After they were comfortably settled in the back and wending their way through traffic toward the hotel, Monique spoke.
"Please let me introduce myself before I explain why I'm here to meet you. I am Monique DuFour, a friend of Jean's. We met on the train coming down from Paris and took a liking to each other so I have been staying with her. She certainly needed someone to look after her after your little mistake in Paris," she gave Kevin a friendly reproachful look, indicating she was teasing and for him not take her admonishments too seriously.
"Has-has she told you everything?" Kevin asked, unbelieving. He just couldn't accept the fact, so suddenly, that Jean had run to a complete stranger and told her that her own husband had raped her on their wedding night.
"Yes, you naughty boy," Monique chided, "she has done just that. And you are the one to blame for all this so don't look too harshly on her for discussing your short-comings with me. You should be grateful that we met. I've been able to convince her that it is a common thins among newlyweds to go through this. That's why she cabled you to come so soon even though she didn't want to at all."
"Well," Kevin answered, looking at the woman with a new found warmth. "I appreciate what you've done. I've been worried sick sitting in that hotel room not knowing where Jean was. I would have gone to the police if that cable had been another half an hour. I was afraid she may have done something desperate. She was quite upset when I stormed out of the room the other night."
"Don't you feel she had reason to be?" Monique said, turning to him in the seat. "It seems I detect a self-righteous tone in your voice. Or is it one of wounded pride?"
"I don't think that is important, Madame DuFour," he answered defensively. "The important thing is not who is right or wrong in this matter, but that we get together and solve it. I've done a lot of foolish things and so has she. We should be about even on that score now."
"Please call me, Monique," she corrected.
"All right, Monique, please call me Kevin. Now tell me why Jean didn't meet me, she said in her cable that she would be there." Kevin was a bit perplexed about this and had to say something.
"She was just a little hung-over from last night," Monique smiled intimately at him as though confiding a deep secret to him. "And she didn't want to come."
"Hung-over? Why, she never drinks," Kevin sputtered, ignoring the last statement.
"Oh, she does now," Monique said. "We had quite a time on the town last night. I thought she would never stop."
"But what brought this on? She said in her note she was going away to do some serious thinking, not to live it up."
"I think it was just the pressure, my boy, now don't you worry," Monique patted his knee next to her consolingly. "After all, it's not every girl who gets frustrated on her wedding night. They might react strangely to it."
"Frustrated!" Kevin almost shouted even though he was only sitting a few feet from the women. "Is that what she told you?"
"Why yes, of course," Monique answered, surprise in her voice. "You mean you couldn't tell – that night?"
"Well," Kevin answered slowly, a tinge of anger beginning to grow in him. "I suppose I didn't satisfy her if that's what you mean, but I haven't even considered that. I though it was because I was too rough."
"That should be the first thing you do consider, young man, when you make love to a woman. I don't care if you ravish her like a slave, it's making her enjoy being ravished that's important. Jean wasn't nearly so concerned about your forcing her, she just was disappointed that you knew nothing about the finer points of making love."
Kevin crimsoned beside Monique. Anger rising in him at the older woman's words… So this is what he had come all the way from Paris for, to find out his bride says he's a lousy lover. This was one thing he would have to talk to Jean about the first moment he saw her. He could take a lot of things but having your wife tell perfect strangers something like this was almost too much.
Monique could see the color of his face changing out of the corner of her eye. Her plan seemed to be working well so far. His masculinity was being insulted, and if there was anything a man couldn't stand, it was having that questioned. She knew men well enough by now and they were the same the world over in that particular respect. You could control their anger or love completely by praise or insult to that one God of theirs, masculinity. She intended to use it well on this young immature American as he was just at the age when it was so important. He was so vulnerable it almost made her laugh. This was going to be easy if that damn Arab, Shalla, was doing his part as well as she.
She smiled to herself and looked over at the clean cut young American, wondering musedly to herself what he would think if he knew his sweet pure young wife had been screwed within an inch of her life by that pig. He probably would go completely crazy and start tearing things apart like all of his kind. They were so proud and naive, it would never occur to them that a woman might want to try something else also as men always did when they got the chance. This might be a good experience for him. At least, it would teach him one of the basic lessons of life, that even without love, people would simply multiply from lust alone, it felt too good to ever go out of style. Even she had succumbed last night, after all these years. True, she had been forced into it but her body had made the most out of its chance even though her mind had fought it, and it had brought back the horrible memories of her brutal ravishment at the hands of other Arabs so many years ago. Yes, the body was a strange uncooperative thing and under the right circumstances would go its own way regardless of the high sounding moral principles the mind might harbor.
Monique finally broke the silence that had persisted for several miles now. She knew she had hit the sore point and would make the most of it in furthering her little scheme. "I gather you've not had much experience in making love, Kevin. Don't you know a man owes it to his wife to learn these things before the wedding night."
Kevin thought for a moment before answering. He hadn't wanted to explain anything to her. It was something between he and his wife and no one else he had thought, but obviously, Jean had confided more in her than she had her own husband. Perhaps he could learn a few things from this straight forward woman. She certainly was unlike any American woman he had ever met. They would never think of discussing a subject like this with a person even if they knew them well, much less a total stranger. Her friendship might be worth cultivating, it might even be the key to recapturing the respect of Jean. As a lover, he obviously had sunk pretty low in her estimation and he knew their love could never work unless it were built on mutual respect, including respect in bed.
"Do you think there's a chance, Monique," he said, a questioning tone detectable in his voice. "I've a lot of making up to do."
"Why, of course, there's a chance. It's never too late or anything," Monique purred, sensing that soon she would have him in her power and he would follow her advice to the letter. The key to her success would lie in gaining his trust and she felt she was winning it even at this early stage. He was such a pup and almost a shame to have to destroy his illusions about the purity and fairness of life at such a tender age.
"What should I say to her? I've been worried sick about this thing and to be perfectly frank, I don't even know where to begin."
"Why don't we stop and have a drink and discuss it quietly before we go to the hotel," she suggested. "Jean won't be awake for several hours yet and I think I can give you some valuable advise, young man. After all, we French are supposed to be experts at this sort of thing."
"Good," Kevin replied, obviously relieved. It would give him more time for preparing himself for the meeting with Jean, and Monique just might have some excellent ideas.
Monique directed the driver to take them to a small quiet bar not too far from the hotel and instructed him to wait across the street with Kevin's luggage.
The bar was dark and cool inside and Kevin was happy to get in from the hot sun that was beginning to bring the outside temperature up to an unbearable level. He had never liked heat and had argued with Jean about coming to Europe in August. He had heard it was impossible this time of year but, as usual, she had not listened to him. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping the sweat form his brow as they sat at a small intimate table in a darkened corner.
Monique ordered two tall cool drinks from the waiter who brought them almost immediately. Kevin took a long hard sip, sighing at the same time. "Mmmmmm, that was good. I think I needed it." The cool liquid ran refreshingly down his throat, relaxing him from the tension he had built up on the train worrying about what he would say when he arrived. He felt fortunate. Monique seemed to have developed Jean's confidence and also seemed to have given their problems a lot of thought on her own. She just might be able to help him as her understanding of another woman's emotions would probably be much more concise than his own. In fact, he had just about given up trying to understand his wife at all. Perhaps, this French woman was a God-send from above. At any rate, it could do no harm discussing it with her.
"Now, Kevin, let's get down to your problem," Monique said, after taking a long drink from her glass. "We've got a lot of thinking and planning to do."
"I don't know quite where to begin," Kevin reflected. "It goes all the way back to the time we first started dating and covers all the details in between that time and now. There were a lot of frustrations on both sides, I suppose."
"Well we don't have a year, my dear boy, you had better just give me the outline so I can understand it a little better from your view point. I've already heard the other side and it doesn't sound too favorable to you."
"Monique, I'm not going to try and defend myself, if that's what you're expecting. I'm willing to concede that I was completely wrong. I just want to apologize to Jean the best way I know how and promise it won't happen again. It's too complicated to try and unravel in such a short period of time. We've the rest of our lives to adjust to each other and I'm just going to beg for another chance."
Monique shook her head, an obvious impatience with what he had just said reflected in her tight lips.
"My dear young man, if you do that, then you've conceded your position as master of the house for all time to come. No man should put himself in that situation, nor would any woman want it." She was working the subject subtly to his pride in masculinity and smiled to herself as she watched his eyes absorb her words. He took another long swallow from the glass and waved to the waiter for another. Monique knew it was merely a question of time now.
"A slave in my own home, is that what you mean?" he said, looking straight ahead across the darkened room.
"If that's the way you want to put it," Monique answered, placing her own hand warmly over his on the table. "You seem so much stronger than she thinks you are, Kevin. I feel your only hope is to prove you are."
"Did she say that too?" he asked wryly.
"Well, yes she did. After all, you had many chances before you were married but never pursued them. Jean said she always felt like a china-doll and that you were afraid of breaking her."
"I suppose I did, there were times when I almost took her bodily, I guess I should have."
"Yes, you should have, my dear, but not like you did in Paris. Women like to be ravished sometimes, but ravished tenderly, or at least, not hurt too much. As I said in the taxi, however you do it, you've got to make them enjoy it. Strength alone doesn't do that. You've got to be able to understand when a 'No' means yes and also, when a 'Yes' may sometimes mean no."
"And just how does one fathom the depths of women like Jean's mind, I'm not a psychiatrist. If someone says no, I'm accustomed to it meaning no, and not something else. She's angry now because when she said, "No," I didn't take her. In Paris, she said yes, and I did take her. How in the hell am I supposed to know what to do and when."
Monique felt that now was the time to drop her little bomb. He was ready for it and sufficiently worked up that he wouldn't stop to think too strongly about it.
"You could learn what to do when you do take them, my boy. That's the secret. No woman minds being had if she's had correctly."
"And just where and with whom an I to get all this on the job training," Kevin said without thinking. "And what about the time? She's waiting for us now."
"I think I can arrange these things," Monique answered quickly. "I like you and Jean so much that I can't bear to see your happiness spoiled by a little thing like this. The important thing is that we must have time. I think one night should be sufficient."
"And how am I going to explain not arriving when I said I would?" Kevin asked skeptically.
"I have an idea about that, but you must be strong about it," Monique said slyly. This was the key to her entire plan and he must accept it.
"Okay, let's hear it. I'm open to suggestions."
"Well," Monique said softly, almost holding her breath, "I'll go back to the hotel and say there was a message from you saying you were having a wonderful time in Paris and would be down in several days. You would cable her the time."
"That's probably the best plan I've ever heard for losing her completely. You don't know Jean like I do," Kevin objected, shaking his head hopelessly.
"No, I don't know Jean like you do, but I do know her like a woman and that's more important. Didn't her little run-out act bring you crawling down here?"
Kevin reflected on this for a moment. Monique's argument did have basic logic. Jean had done it to him and it had been extremely effective. In fact, she had always been doing this to him. Perhaps, a change in roles would be good for her. Maybe she should squirm for a while.
"Let's do it," Kevin said, making a snap decision. He was desperate now. From the things Monique had told him, he knew something drastic had to be done or he would lose Jean sooner or later. It was better to take the chance now while he still might gain some respect in her eyes.
"Good boy, I knew you had more strength than she gave you credit for having. She'll be eating out of your hand in several days, I promise that."
"Let's hope so," Kevin said with resignation. "This is going to be an all or nothing try."
"Don't you worry, Kevin, it's going to work beautifully. Come now, let's get you a hotel and I'll work out the details. I'll call you later this afternoon." Monique smiled happily to herself as they left the bar. The plan was working well and Monique's chest swelled a little in pride at her resourcefulness. She couldn't fail now. She tucked the little note she had the naive American write in her purse, patting it lovingly. This would be the final blow that would destroy any spirit of resistance the girl might have left after the Arab finished with her.