Good Pussy Bad Pussy

We ate for a while in silence. I picked at my food, thinking it was a good thing they didn’t know the real truth – that Stefan didn’t even want me as much as I wanted him. Ha. I laughed to myself. That was the irony of it. But even if it was only me that was so obsessed, even if it was all a delusion, a dream, I wanted it anyway. I wanted it for as long as it lasted, which I hoped would be for a very long time. That was the truth; my truth. Whatever the cost, I didn’t want it to end. I just wanted to keep disappearing down that rabbit hole of bliss and stay there forever.

“So tell us about this Stefan,” my mother said, “handsome he must be, but what does he do for a living? Was it Stefan who bought you the fancy clothes?”

“I really don’t know exactly what he does, but he works for a man named Albert Giovanni who is the head of a big company called Giovanni International.”

“What does this Giovanni International do Rachel?” my father asked.

“As far as I know, they sell heavy machinery all over Europe and the Middle East.”

There was a slight lull in the conversation until my mother said, sweetly but firmly, “Look Rachel, why don’t you just get on a plane and go back to Amsterdam and have a talk with Jan. Really sweetheart, you owe it to your son.”

When I didn’t say anything my father added, “At least you can give it a try.  Jan might just surprise you and understand. But whatever happens, your mother is right; you owe it to your son. Don’t abandon your child for some pleasure now that isn’t going to last very long. That’s what you should be thinking about.”

After that, we didn’t speak for a while. We were all digesting what had just gone down.

My father wanted to go for a little walk after dinner and I was relieved because I couldn’t bear to talk about it anymore. It was a lovely balmy evening and we walked down the Promenade des Anglais. It reminded me of summer vacations when I was a kid.

We felt close together, but also sad that so many of the things we had shared were past and would never come again. I had this sudden intuition about how it must feel to grow old and see the world you have known and loved fade away. Our lives were passing away so quickly. In a flash we are gone with all our happiness and all our troubles too. It made my own problems seem small and insignificant. The stars were shining down upon us, the same stars that were there when we came into this world and would still be there when we left. What did it matter if I laughed or cried? I was only one more flare in the night, shining brightly for a split second in time. It was the same for my parents. And I had to face it, one day all too soon they too would be passing away. I missed them so much even though they were right there, walking on either side of me. They were my parents, my very own special parents and I would never have any others. They had wedded and bedded and out of that mysterious union, I had emerged with all my hopes and dreams. And they had tried to give me a direction as best they could. Whether they had succeeded or failed didn’t really matter at all. We might have quarreled in the past, we might have misunderstood each other at times, but they loved me and I loved them. It was as simple as that.

I stopped and hugged them both, one after the other. They didn’t say anything, but I knew they felt the same.

_____

   The next day I put my parents on their plane to Israel.

They left saying, “Now be a good girl Rachel and think about what you are doing! Why don’t you just go home to your son?”

It was such reasonable advice. Hearing them talk made everything seem so simple. I was a mother and had a responsibility to my own child. But as soon as I walked out of the airport’s glass doors into the sunshine of that splendid Nice morning, I felt that jolt – that marvelous zap of energy running through my body. Wow! And yes, it was that jolt, that zap that sent me on this adventure in the first place. It was such an overpowering sensation and to say it was just a physical thing would have been to underestimate what was going on with me. I was possessed, obsessed, enchained, entranced by an energy I didn’t understand. And it didn’t have anything to do with the logical, reasonable world my parents lived in and talked about. I had run off in pursuit of something magical. Some might say I just wanted to get my kicks, but whatever it was, the truth was, I wanted more.

Maybe I should go home and maybe I would, but not just yet!

Feeling that jolt of energy course through my body made me remember the day I met Stefan and I shivered with pleasure.  It was an early summer day at Zandvoort beach; I was there, enjoying the sun and sea with little Daniel. We’d been there all afternoon and it was early evening – most people were gone or leaving the beach. The sun was sinking slowly in the Western sky. I remembered how cool and peaceful it was and how I was just lounging around enjoying the tranquility and the evening air while Daniel played close by in the sand. All of a sudden this blond Adonis came out of nowhere and asked me if I had a light. I hadn’t noticed him before that moment, but apparently he must have been lounging somewhere nearby because he had seen me. (I later found out that he had been sitting moodily on the beach, feeling low because he had just split again from his Dutch wife Monique and their two small daughters – Linda and Sabine. They had been having this on and off relationship for quite a few years until finally Monique had asked for a separation. She was fed up with his uncommunicative ways and the fact that he was away so much on business because of Albert. But obviously at the time, I didn’t know any of this.)

A couple of young Indians were making food on a small grill not far from where I was sitting and one of them ran over and asked us if we would like to join them. Daniel jumped up and said “yeah!” because he was hungry and so it all happened so naturally. We laughed and joined the Indians and got to talking as we munched on their lovely food. (The Indians thought we were a couple and laughed heartily when we said we didn’t know each other.)

So truly it was as if the gods had arranged our meeting (and of course they had). I found it easy being with him in the cool evening air – and I liked his quiet ways. From the very first moment, I felt as if we were being drawn to each other by this powerful magnetic force and there was nothing we could do about it. I remembered I couldn’t take my eyes off this blond Adonis – and he kept looking at me too. We stayed until late in the evening; and by then it was obvious we would meet again.

_____

When I got back to our hotel suite, Stefan was sitting on the armchair with his feet up on the window sill. He was talking on the phone. All I could think of was how good he looked, how inviting, how sexy. He had on tight-fitting underwear which revealed his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had just taken a shower and his wet blond hair was combed straight back off his face. He looked around at me and motioned me to be quiet.

“Happy Birthday little Linda,” he was saying into the phone in a special voice I’d never heard him use before. “How old are you now??… Five years old! Did you get the present Daddy sent you?”

My mood of sex and adventure vanished when I realized who he was talking to – his youngest daughter Linda. His wife and two daughters were still living in Amsterdam. And today was the little one’s birthday. Funny, but up until that moment I hadn’t really thought of Stefan as being a father (though of course I knew he was) or of him being able to speak to a child in that kind of warm friendly Daddy voice.

I felt vain and stupid hearing him talk to his little daughter like that. Maybe deep down inside, he scorned me because I’d run off with him and left my own son. Maybe he thought I was a pushover, a woman of no character, with only a hot cunt to speak for me. Mentally I began packing my suitcase to catch the next plane back to Amsterdam. My parents said I should go back, Stefan must be thinking the same thing. What was there left for me to do? I really did miss my son.

I went to the bedroom and sat down on the bed while Stefan chatted and laughed with his daughter.

But still, I told myself, this was the first time I’d ever been away from my son and I hadn’t been gone very long. Didn’t I have a right to a little vacation? But who was I kidding? This wasn’t exactly a vacation – this was an uprising – a full-scale rebellion! Looking back, I could honestly say I’d tried; I really had, for years. I’d tried to convince myself that my life with Jan was great. But it just didn’t wash. It wasn’t enough. I hadn’t taken care of me. I hadn’t nurtured the woman I was. In fact it had gotten so bad that I no longer even knew who I was. Oh yes, I was a mother and a wife, but it all seemed so tame after the great hopes and dreams of my younger years. Back then I thought I was going somewhere, thought I was going to do something, be someone, achieve something that mattered. And now all I had was the crushing frustration of a life I had freely chosen with a man who turned out to be a real drag. And I hadn’t wanted to admit it, at least not until I met Stefan.

Stefan came to me in the bedroom after he said goodbye to his daughter. I guess I looked depressed because he sat down and put his arm around me and said, “Was seeing your mother and father that bad?”

“Oh no… not really,” I mumbled.

“Well then, what is it?”

“It was just… just hearing you talk to Linda like that…”

“Oh come on Rachel, you knew from the beginning that I have two small daughters. They are very dear to me and I am sorry their mother and I are not together to take care of them. You know that.”

“Stefan, do you think I should go back to Amsterdam?”

“You should do whatever you have to do – but not right now!” he said and laughed. “How did we get on this subject anyway?” He pushed me playfully back on the bed. He was determined to make me forget. It wasn’t hard to do. He kissed me and I couldn’t resist him. There was just something about him, something…

He undressed me expertly and then did what he always did. He took off his underwear and then positioned himself, completely naked, over me with his arms outstretched as if he was about to do push-ups. He surveyed my waiting body and then lowered his firm suntanned body slowly down upon me, touching me gently as I closed my eyes in a swoon. He knew I liked it like that, liked it when he teased me with the touch of his exquisite body until I was wet, wet, wet. And then, when he knew I was ready, he entered me slowly and lay very still on top of me, letting me feel his manhood. And when I sighed that special sigh of intense delight, which he knew so well, he pressed himself deeper into me. I’d never been with a man who fucked like he did. It was always the same – and even if it was missionary through and through, he had a very special talent for it. A very special way of moving slowly in and out of me, which never failed to light my fire. And even though he made the same moves every time, it always worked. Because there was just something about the trancelike way he moved his beautiful body which always turned me on. Something about the slow, rhythmical movements he made that I loved. And then he’d pick up speed and move slightly faster – and then faster. And I loved it even more. Loved the way his slow deliberation would always lead to that special moment when I felt the thrill of his hard body gaining speed and momentum. Then nothing could deter him. And he would keep his eyes closed and continue to breathe ever so quietly even as his excitement mounted. Then it was all higher, higher, higher and deeper, deeper, deeper – into that pool of intense ecstasy where I could surrender completely – to his rhythm, his guidance, and to the energy that enveloped us. He did not rush, he never did. Nor did he speak as some men do or alter his rhythm or the flow of it. The strength of his body and his arm muscles allowed him to flow onward until we met and found each other in the passion and power of being together and coming together.

Aaahhh… the incredible sweetness of him. Of us.

Afterwards my blond Adonis propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at me. His face was open and suddenly vulnerable. He flicked some strands of hair away from my face.

“You know I never met a woman like you before…”

I did not reply but waited, quite sure he was about to say something important, something I desperately wanted to hear, something I thought I’d never hear him say.

“Rachel, I just want you to know,” he said softly, slowly, “… that no matter what happens… I really do…”

There was a knock on the door.

We both lay very still. Damn! I hoped whoever it was would go away. Who could it be anyway? No one ever came to our hotel. But the knocking went on.

“Open up Stefan, hurry up! It’s important. Come one. It’s me, Joey.”

The banging continued.

“Merde!” Stefan drew away from me.

“I’m coming Joey, hold on!” he shouted back.

He put on his underwear.

“Rachel, go out to the bathroom and get dressed. I forgot to tell you we’re going to a party at Albert’s house on Cap Ferrat today. So dress up nice.”

I grabbed my robe and rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Damn.

I pressed myself against the door to hear what was going on. Two men entered the suite. They were speaking French and they were in a hurry. I turned the water on in the sink. I didn’t want Stefan to think I was listening. They were talking so fast I didn’t understand much, but I did understand when Stefan said, “Joey, no, not again. Not another car bomb!”

The man called Joey replied, “We just got word.”

“Merde,” said Stefan, “does Albert know about this?”

“Yes, and he’s not happy at all. It’s making our operations very difficult.”

“Merde,” I heard Stefan say again.

I didn’t dare listen to more.

I wondered what was going on. It sounded serious, dangerous, risky… But I didn’t dare ask. Stefan never talked to me about what kind of business they were in (but then again, Stefan never talked to me about anything). And it seemed to be understood that as far as business matters were concerned, I was to be kept completely out of it, whatever it was. Was it chivalry on Stefan’s part? Or was it just the man/woman thing in this part of the world? I was curious to know more and knew I should care more, but the truth was I didn’t. The truth was I felt like a million. I felt like a fool. I felt enchanted, entranced, insane. I felt wonderful, wild, happy. My life was a mess and my Adonis was about to tell me that he loved me. I was sure; positive! So I wondered – was this it? Was this true love? He was about to say it, I knew it. I knew it. I knew he loved me. And regardless, the lovemaking was divine. I slid down onto the cool tile bathroom floor as the thoughts whirled round and round in my head.