Maureen Quincy - Forbidden Sex Games

When he was finally alone in the house, its strange emptiness and its tangible mood of guilt and perverted desire pervading every room, Cunningham knew that to save his sanity he had to obliterate from his mind all memory of the terrible sin which his children committed. Some men would have turned to alcohol. Others to drugs or suicide. But Cunningham found a safer means of erasing his pain and his crushing though largely subconscious-sense of failure.

Having placed standing orders with his bank to meet all necessary payments in respect of Lisa and Richard's education, he plunged furiously into a new phase of work: starting fresh companies, taking on more and more responsibilities, never pausing except for hastily snatched meals and irregular sleep.

And soon, by deliberately contrived effort, he succeeded in forgetting that his children were incestuously attracted-succeeded almost in forgetting that he had a son and a daughter at all. School reports were scanned quickly and given to his secretary for filing. Any other mail with a Beirut or a Fernleigh postmark was destroyed unopened..

They had arrived in the midsummer heat of the Lebanon, flying down into the dazzling sunshine and seeming to skim over the clear blue water of the Mediterranean before their BOAC jet landed them safety at Beirut international airport.

Lisa's homesickness was banished almost at once by the exotic surroundings; her nostrils inhaling the mixture of salt sea spray, scented with the pines which grew in great abundance around the perimeters of the city; her eyes widening at sights she had previously glimpsed only in travel books. Kathleen proved to be a capable guide, even though this was the first time she had set foot outside Europe. Before driving out to the school-which was situated to the north of Beirut itself, in a small town called Byblos-the Governess treated Lisa to a sight-seeing tour around the capital: hiring one of the numerous carriage-and-pairs which took tourists on a leisurely, meandering excursion through the ancient and modern quarters of Beirut, passing the main boulevard of Rue Hambra with its neon-lit shops, cinemas and restaurants; then abruptly turning into a totally different world-as if the buggy was a time machine that traversed the centuries as well as the miles! — by entering one of the narrow, intimate streets (called “souks", as Kathleen instructed Lisa) where goldsmiths, silk merchants and jewellers displayed their wares from open-fronted, tiny and over-crammed shops.

The city was truly cosmopolitan, Lisa discovered. It combined the best of the Arab and French cultures, offering to visitors the attractions of mosques, a near-perfect climate and the fascination of unpaved, dusty streets which led into the old quarter of the town-the unspoilt, primitive Beirut-together with superb restaurants and that indefinable yet unmistakable air of sophistication which the French had brought with them when they invaded the Lebanon so many years ago.

“They call it 'the Paris of the Orient',” Kathleen smiled. She was holding Lisa's hand lightly as they jogged slowly along, feeling happy that the girl looked so bright-eyed and excited; the first time she had worn such an expression since her father had discovered her with Richard in the garden. “But it's much more than just another Paris, you know,” Kathleen continued, her own heart lightened as they rode at a snail's pace through the bustle and the tangy smells of the bazaars. “There are so many things to do here-or so I'm told! And guess what? Did I mention that one of my old boy friends is living here in Beirut?”

Lisa shook her head absently. She was only paying scant attention as Kathleen rambled on: more enthralled with the novel and interesting scenery around her than in her Governess's reminiscences. She had no idea that Beirut would be like this. Lisa had imagined a dirty Mediterranean backwater-a completely primitive and commercialised Arabian resort-not the obviously sophisticated, jet-age city in which she found herself. It seemed to open new vistas in her mind, awakening her to possibilities for excitement which had never occurred to Lisa before. Her cloistered, claustrophobic life had concealed such romantic urges; but now she was beginning to realise that her suffocating intimacy with Richard had prevented her from so many wonderful experiences…

“I found out by accident just a few days before we left,” Kathleen was chattering gaily. “During my final interview at the British Council, someone who had just returned from Beirut happened to mention a man named Louis Chabrol. Imagine! I knew him years ago… Well,” she corrected herself hastily. “Some time ago, anyway! Apparently, he's become quite a notorious figure in the city: he owns one of the biggest night-clubs here-and he's also earned a rather scandalous reputation. I can't wait to learn all the details at first hand!

“Of course…” Kathleen patted Lisa's bare knee affectionately, reassuringly. The girl was wearing a thin, print dress which was as close to a “mini” as respectability would permit. “… I wouldn't dream of keeping you a prisoner in the school-you did realise that, didn't you, darling? We'll be able to slip away as often as we like: every weekend if that's what you want! After all, Byblos is only twenty-odd miles from Beirut.” She squeezed Lisa's knee with a meaningful pressure of her hand. “And even if Louis doesn't remember me, we won't have any difficulty in finding new friends to show us around…”

In her enthusiasm, Kathleen Wynter had unfortunately overlooked one vital factor: the disparity in their ages!

She had forgotten that Lisa was only 17, while Kathleen herself belonged to a different generation-even though her 34 years rested so lightly upon her beautiful shoulders. And it didn't occur to the Governess, as she prattled on about the wonderful times they would share together, that the girl might be more attracted to members of her own age group now that she had gained her freedom…

After lunching at Ajami-one of the most famous restaurants in Beirut, at a table which overlooked Saint George's Bay-Kathleen telephoned the airport and requested their chauffeur to pick them up. It was time to begin the drive to Byblos, and although Lisa was feeling rather sleepy (her senses befuddled by the consumption of several glasses of Arak, the Lebanese national drink, made from grape alcohol and anis, and the unfamiliar rich food), she enjoyed the breathtaking scenery as the air-conditioned limousine climbed steadily up the coast road towards her future home.

The sparkling blue bays were soon stretched out below them like a series of miniature lagoons; dotted among the shore and glistening with breathtaking beauty under the enormous white sun. They passed close to the Casino of Lebanon-situated on a high hill and erected at a cost of over four million dollars. It was like a palace, Lisa thought enviously, its pale blue pillars inlaid with glass and reflecting the glory of the afternoon sunshine. She must certainly persuade Kathleen to take her there one evening; if not to gamble, at least to enjoy the thrill of watching vast sums of money exchanging hands across the tables. She wasn't surprised when her Governess informed her that the Casino was reputed to be the largest of its kind in the world…

Eventually, their car turned into a cypress-lined driveway and they had arrived at the school. Lisa was taken like a sleepwalker to her room-which she would share with one other girl, at present attending a class although her personal belongings were scattered untidily around the pleasant, sunny “bed-sitter.” She was only half aware of Kathleen's hands undressing her, the excitement having finally caught up with her and rendering her utterly but blissfully exhausted…