Zane Pella: Fanchon_s Book

Falling asleep was also a losing skirmish. I tossed about in restless irritation, uncomfortable in the purgatory of Oliver's bed and agonizing over what was going on in my own. Kristi and Rosalba. What are they doing in there? A dozen different visions tortured me, and I struggled valiantly to guide my thoughts into less troublesome channels. But sleep played truant. Until at last I got up and padded into Kristi's small room-and there, lulled by the lingering scent of my beloved, comforted by her near-intimacy, I managed to quell my melancholia and drift off into dream-void torpor.

Hours later the touch of her hand coaxed my eyelids open, it glided across my face to the soft awakening of my lips. I kissed it and left slumber behind. She was sitting on the edge of my bed-no, her bed-draped in a negligee (mine? hers?) that scarcely screened the dazzling splendor of her body.

"Good morning, my poor punished Fanchon. So this is where you slept last night,. hmm? I looked in your husband's room first."

I murmured a muted good-morning-darling into the palm of her hand. Her fingertips turned tenderly sportive and I prolonged the kiss gratefully, aware that my term of excommunication was over. The only blessing of a lovers' tiff is the bliss of making up afterward; and wasn't she an angel to seek me out like this. and make the initial overture?

"Hey, that library in there is really something. Now that he's away, maybe I'll get a chance to read the dirty books." She stroked my cheek and ended the caress in an airy gesture of self-reproach. "Oh, I'm such a lazy girl. If I spend my time reading, who'll do the housework?"

"Read all you like. But the collection is pretty dull, I'm afraid. I found that out last night. Somewhere around two o'clock-if you know what I mean."

"Oh? You didn't sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep. Let's just say I had a bad night. And you know why, you little devil."

"Uh-huh. I ought to know. Sexy, sexy. Me too-how about that? I missed you. I wanted you the minute I woke up. That's why I left Rosalba and came hunting for-" Her train of thought snapped; she paused reflectively and then giggled. "Ooh, Fanchon, I just had an idea! Rosalba. Let's keep her here for a while. She can do the housework. And I can be lazy."

"Keep her? As a hired maid?"

"No, silly, you wouldn't have to pay her. She's such a simpleton; I can talk her into anything. I'll bet she'd be willing to work for free just to have a place to stay until that dumb-ox husband of hers comes to his senses."

"Hmm, well, I'll think it over. Later, though. Now what was it you said about waking up and feeling sexy?"

"Rosalba could have my room. I'll be in there with you anyway, won't I? And we'd have more time for each other if-"

"Darling, is it that important? Let her stay then, it doesn't really matter. Except that she-"

"Oh, you're so good to me, Fanchon. I guess I'm selfish, huh? You give me everything-and what do I ever give you in return?"

"Little one, you give me somebody to love. And that's all I've ever asked for. Just you… " I reached for the pale hand and squeezed it impulsively. "We'll keep Rosalba around, if you like. But I wouldn't want her to know too much about us. About what we do together, the crazy games and things; you do understand, don't you?"

"Umm, yes, you're right, it's best she doesn't know. Don't worry, I'll take care of that. Rosalba won't even suspect our secret. Hey, it's going to be fun just loafing all day long. And I'll get some hot reading done, too."

"Hot reading, eh? You'll probably be disappointed." I carried the delicate fingers to my lips again. "Books aren't as exciting as the real thing."

A conspiratorial twinkle lit her face. "Your book might be… " And with a little lilting chuckle of delight, she shook out of the negligee and tumbled into my arms. "My impatient Fanchon. You want some material for another Chapter?"

But no, it wasn't a time for new material, at least not that kind of material, the material of prurient perversities, of lust and lubricity, the material designed (hopefully!!!) to sell books. It was a time for love. A time for the subdued sweetness of making up after a quatreI; ah, how utterly unselfish were the embraces of my golden-haired divine goddess! How endearingly considerate the caresses she deigned to bestow upon her mortal idolatress! It was as if she had replaced the hair-shirt of my punishment with the silken-soft mantle of her all-absolving affection.

She made no demands. And yet-quite soon-I felt the urge to fulfill them, the unspoken demands; need they be said aloud to be acknowledged as the esoteric elixir that gave our alliance its very essence? Ours was no ordinary relationship. Just as Kristi was no ordinary servant. Nor I an ordinary housewife. Generous and forgiving as my loved one might me, she was still my glorious goddess-and I found myself kissing her feet. She liked that, even though she remained quiet. When I turned her over and started nibbling up into the sweet curve of her buttocks, she still didn't say a word. But I knew what she must have been thinking and it was true, so true, Fanchon, you're a sensual bitch! and I probed the darkly lewd gully and fixed upon the little puckered place and pried it open with the tip of my tongue and became the sensual bitch she wanted me to be; nor did she have to ask me or tell me or nudge me, no, I was already slavishly possessed with the desire to please-and I poked my tongue in and pulled it back into my mouth and got it wet and then did it again, over and over again, the in-and-out lubricating motion from my moist mouth to her moistening flesh, until everything became slick-smooth and slippery and at last I stuck my tongue deep into the body of my beloved and joined myself to her as if the seal of mouth and flesh made us one.

I could have stayed there forever, cherishing the moment, aware that it was all the more precious because of my night of exile. But there was yet another unspoken demand to fulfill. And only when I lowered my head and ducked under her belly and twisted around to nuzzle up into the succulent softness of her vulva did she finally break her silence. A moan. Then a whisper. Hot, soulful, inflammatory; such an inspiring whisper! It set me on fire with ecstatic devotion.

"Ah yes, Fanchon, you give me everything. Suck, suck… "

It was a long time before we left the bed. But I didn't consider it a wasted morning, no, in its evanescent hours lay the key to life itself: das Leben ist die Liebe. And there were others like it in the days that followed. Lovely mornings. Lovely afternoons. Lovely nights for the loveliest of lovers.

For a while I paid only cursory attention to Rosalba. She slept in the maid's room and took her orders from Kristi, and both seemed contented with the adjustment. There was some sex-play between them but not enough to be obtrusive; anyway, a fit of jealousy would have done me little good and I decided against making an issue out of it. Especially since my enchanting angel-child was being so thrillingly sweet to me.

Then my husband's office called and I had to pack a second suitcase for him; they didn't say for sure but I got the impression that he would be gone much longer than anticipated. Which was fine with all concerned-except that the additional time allowed Rosalba to become more firmly entrenched in the household. Too much so, I realized, and I wondered how to go about getting rid of her without creating a fuss.

Not that Kristi was neglecting me. But the novelty of the situation had worn off and I begrudged every minute she spent out of my sight. Nor did it help my already tottering aplomb when I returned home from a social engagement one day to find the pair of them locked in my bathroom. A "mistress and maid" theme, no doubt, and although I didn't knock on the door and interrupt their fun, it jarred me to recognize that in a certain singular sense I was being displaced by an interloper. Kristi seldom bothered to make up play-acting scenes for us any more, nor had I any need of them, really, but it hurt to learn that her deviously naughty brain was still inventing-and for someone else's benefit. After that, Rosalba's presence in the house became a thorn in my pride.