Albert’s house on Cap Ferrat was unbelievable, perched overlooking the Mediterranean. It turned out he wasn’t just rich, he was fabulously wealthy. A house like his on Cap Ferrat meant he was very well established indeed.
We walked in through a polished wooden entrance gate onto a meticulously groomed, Zen style lawn surrounded by swaying palm trees set in round stone beds. An amazing stone terrace sloped and curved down to a swimming pool. Well-dressed men and women were scattered around the pool talking in small groups. Two striking looking women were swimming and laughing in the clear blue pool while several men were standing by, watching them, making jokes and drinking champagne. Discreet white-jacketed waiters moved quietly from group to group with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. I didn’t see Albert anywhere. Stefan nodded at several of the people but seemed to be looking for someone special. He led me towards a small group of people sitting on stunningly modern white garden chairs.
“Ah, there is Michelle, I need to talk to her for a minute,” Stefan said.
Two men got up and came towards us.
“So this is Rachel,” said one.
“Rachel, this is Joey and Carl, they were up at our hotel this afternoon. You missed them, remember?” he smiled. “Carl, entertain Rachel for a few minutes will you? I need to talk to Michelle.”
“With pleasure.”
Joey was a dark, handsome North African. Carl was tall and thin with a warm smile and gay funny eyes.
Stefan left us for a beautiful French girl with short black hair. He whispered something in her ear and she stood up, took his hand, and they walked away.
Carl grinned, “Don’t worry Rachel, Michelle just got back from Beirut. Stefan just wants to talk to her about it.”
“What’s it all about?” I asked.
“Come, let’s go over there,” Joey pointed to a cool shady spot under some old trees.
“The first thing you must learn when you join Albert’s family,” said Carl leaning against one of the trees, “is never ask questions!” He looked at me with impish smiling eyes. Was he serious?
“Oh come on Carl, don’t scare her!” Joey broke in. Was he laughing too? “Now tell me, where are on earth did Stefan find you?”
“I met Stefan at Zandvoort, a beach just outside in Amsterdam.”
“Amsterdam!” they both exclaimed.
“Yes, what’s so strange about that?”
“But you can’t be Dutch,” Joey cried, “you’re almost as dark as I am!”
“I’m American.”
“Oh… so what were you doing in Amsterdam? Just visiting?”
“Oh no, I’ve lived there for almost seven years now.”
“Seven years? How can you stand it?” cried Joey.
“It’s not so bad,” I laughed, “my husband is Dutch.”
“Your husband??”
“Yes, and Amsterdam is a beautiful city you know.”
“Well,” said Joey, “I’ve never been there so I really don’t know. I’m from Algeria but two of my brothers lived and worked in Amsterdam. Both of them married Dutch women but Armand, the younger one, came home quickly.”
I had to laugh at the serious expression on Joey’s face.
“There’s nothing funny about the stories they told,” he continued. “What is it with the women up north? Armand’s wife wanted to work, you know, and didn’t want to have children. What kind of a woman is that? And when he insisted, she left him. He is a hard worker and he just wanted to take care of her so she wouldn’t have to work. But she wanted to be independent. Is that the way women are up there?”
“Well yes,” I replied smiling, “most women in The Netherlands work.”
“But why? What do they want? You think they look so beautiful… all nice and blond, but when they start to talk and you hear what they are thinking… anyway that’s what my brother said. And he said they’re all like that. My older brother Ali has two children with his Dutch wife and she won’t let him take his children to Algeria to visit our old mother because she is afraid he will kidnap his own children and never go back to The Netherlands again. And my old mother is too weak to visit them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that but the truth is women are independent in northern Europe and have their own money and can decide things for themselves.”
“But is it necessary?” he asked. “I mean if a woman has a good man, why should she want those things? A woman’s place is at home. She should be happy to give her husband children. That’s how it is where I come from.”
How could I tell him we grew up in different worlds?
“Things are different in northern Europe and men and women are brought up in another way. We are taught that men and women are equal and should have equal opportunities to live the life they choose. So men and women act much more alike and they think and work together. And when women are independent, they usually don’t have so many children. It’s not their only priority anymore. So yes, it’s very different.”
“But how can we have a good life without the difference between men and women? Can you tell me that?”
When I didn’t reply, he continued, “And what about you Rachel? Are you like that too?”
“Well I have a son if that’s what you mean. And I stayed home and took care of him for quite a while, but I got bored and well here I am… I ran off from my husband too.”
Joey looked shocked.
“Why did you leave him? Was this Dutch husband of yours such a bad guy?”
“Oh no, he was an ok guy.”
“I’m sure he was,” a voice said behind me. I felt hands on my shoulders and I knew from the electric shock running through my body that it was Albert.
“Let’s not upset our guests Joey,” Albert said. “When will you learn that the whole world doesn’t necessarily think like you and your brothers?” He smiled.
“Pardon,” said Joey and bowed before me.
“Come,” Albert said to me, “Let me show you my house.”
I looked around for Stefan, but he was nowhere in sight.
_____
On the way up to Albert’s house, we met a big, bear-like man who seemed rather flustered. He spoke to Albert in German, excitedly. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a sentence and stared at me. His hand moved toward my shoulder.
“Rachel, this is Felix Fischer from Hamburg. I am doing a little business with him. Would you be kind enough to give him your hand? He doesn’t speak English but he seems to be quite taken by you.”
I shook hands with Mr. Fischer. Then Albert and I walked into the house.
After showing me around the most amazing house, he took me downstairs to his study. It was in the lower corner of the house and because of the slope of the garden, the huge picture windows were above ground looking out over the sea. The view was breathtaking. His long desk faced the windows so he could look out while he worked. I liked that. Further back in the room there was a low couch and I imagined him sleeping there at times.
“Will you drink something?” he motioned towards the couch.
“No thank you. The champagne by the pool on an empty stomach was more than enough for me,” I laughed uneasily.
Being suddenly alone with Albert made me tremble all over. I hadn’t forgotten the intensity of our first meeting and the wave of liquid desire he had awakened in me. I wanted to act nonchalant and tried to, but couldn’t. There was just something about the man that drew me to him; he exuded this strange, magnetic power. He came over to me, standing as I was in the middle of the room, and laid his hands on my bare shoulders. I was sure he felt me trembling. In the background, Music for Zen Meditation by Tony Scott played softly.
“Come my dear, don’t be so serious,” he said, brushing my hair away from my face, “it’s not good for you.”
”What do you mean?” I replied, feeling unsure of myself.
“You’re wearing yourself out for no good reason.”
“Really… I’m not sure I understand.”
“Oh yes you do… you are thinking and worrying all the time and it’s exhausting you. Always trying to figure things out, trying to deduct what’s going on, speculating, worrying. You’re probably worrying about your son right now, tormenting yourself because you ran off to have your little fling with Stefan.”
“Well what’s wrong with that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with watching what’s going on, but you do more than that. You keep turning things over and over in your mind until you wear yourself out instead of enjoying the present moment. Come and sit down on the couch with me, I want to tell you something.”
We sat down.
“Many years ago I spent some years in the Far East and one of the most important things I learned there was that if you want to do anything, enjoy anything, accomplish anything, achieve anything, you have to focus your energy on that one thing and forget everything else that is going on around you. You have to disregard everything else and focus your attention at whatever it is you’re going to do – and then do it. I know it sounds very simple, but it’s really very difficult to do. Most people don’t succeed in life because they scatter their energy too much. Instead of focusing on the task at hand and on the present moment, they waste their energy worrying about what happened yesterday or what’s going to happen tomorrow. So they’re rarely really present and focused in the moment. And as a result, they don’t succeed at what they’re trying to do and they don’t enjoy the present moment for what it is.”
I wondered why he was telling me this. Why me?
He went on.
“In some traditional Eastern disciplines, they teach the idea that you have to divide your mind up into compartments. One compartment for this situation and another compartment for that situation. When you’re not actually doing something about a situation or problem, you simply put it in its compartment and forget about it until the appropriate time. Otherwise you are just wasting your energy and exhausting your nervous system. What can you do about your son right now? Nothing, right? So why worry about him? You are just wasting your energy. Save it until you can actually do something about it. Otherwise it’s exhausting… what I’m trying to tell you sweet Rachel… is to relax a little… you can just let yourself go… really.” He smiled reassuringly.
“Look,” he continued, “I have become a very successful businessman. Do you know why?”
“Sure, because you’re smart.”
“Well it’s not just that,” he smiled, “It’s also because – fortunately for me – I’ve learned how to focus my attention and my energy. That’s the real secret of my success.”
“Albert, why are you telling me all this?”
He gazed into space.
“I should have met you before you married and had a son.”
“What do they have to do with it, now that I’ve left them?”
“You’ll go back to them and probably soon… but until you do…” he moved closer to me, “let’s see what happens…”
He kissed me on the mouth while his hand moved up my leg. Suddenly the door to his office swung open. It was Stefan. He looked angry seeing me with Albert.
“I was looking for Rachel,” was all he said.
Albert stood up.
They started talking in German. It didn’t sound exactly friendly. I heard my name and stood up, getting ready to go with Stefan.
Albert turned and motioned me to sit down. “It seems Stefan forgot something important he must attend to.”
Stefan slammed the door and left without looking at me.
Albert laughed and locked the door.
“Well Rachel, now you know how Stefan feels about you.”
“I’d really like to go with Stefan,” I said out of loyalty to Stefan, even though I wasn’t really sure I wanted to go. The words just came out.
And when Albert didn’t reply, I blurted out. “Why are you doing this Albert? Can’t you see I want to be with Stefan?”
I started towards the door.
“Not so fast Rachel, not so fast. There’s something I forgot to tell you.”
His words made me shiver.
“What?”
“Sit down and I will tell you.”
He had some power I did not understand.
When I just stood there, he came and took my hand and led me over to the couch.
“Now sit down,” he said.
I sat down. He sat down besides me.
“You probably don’t realize it my dear, but I do a considerable amount of business in the Middle East. The details won’t interest you. But Stefan interests you I’ve noticed and Stefan is a part of my operation. Right now I am looking for a replacement for Ben Ari who was head of my Beirut office until he was killed by a suicide bomb in Baghdad 14 days ago while there on business. Ben was not a careless man but Iraq as you know is not the safest place in the world. And our business involves certain risks….” He paused. “I was thinking of sending Stefan to Beirut as his replacement but he asked to stay here at the moment which I gather is because of you.”
He fingered my hair.
“Now Rachel, do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Ruthless bastard,” I muttered under my breath, eyes flashing.
“Come, come my dear,” he laughed, “it can’t be all that bad.”
I felt hot tears of frustration in my eyes as he went on toying with me.
“I like a woman with spirit,” he said, lifting my chin and gazing at me with those piercing eyes of his.
He was silent for a moment, watching me pout; then he went on. “Yes it’s true,” he continued, “you will have to make love to me in exactly the way I desire… which quite frankly I am sure you will enjoy… but other than that and maybe one or two other small requests I may have for you in the future, you can rest assured that Stefan is yours for as long as you care to enjoy him. So there is really nothing to be upset about. After all, my dear, am I not keeping you both here on the Riviera in the very best of style?”
He walked over to the windows and drew the curtains.
“Now stand up and take off your clothes.”
I stood up and looked at him.
“Do you really want me that much?”
“Isn’t that obvious, Rachel?”
“But why, I just don’t see why? You already have everything and every woman at this party today is more beautiful than I will ever be and they’re all waiting in line to have you… so why me?”
He did not let me continue and he did not answer. He pulled me towards him. I stopped struggling and let him undress me until I stood quite naked before him. I felt no shame though I knew my body was not as perfect as many he had seen. His desire for me made me extraordinarily beautiful, not only in his eyes, but in mine as well. He really did want me. But why? Was I that different? He moved his hands over my body and then led me back over to the couch where he lay me down and spread my legs. He still had all his clothes on and I was completely naked.
He sat down next to me and gently ran his hands up and down my thighs, caressing me slowly. He was in no rush. Slowly, he let his hands lightly trace the curving lines of my body. It was as if he’d sent an electrical current through me… and I felt myself quivering at the slow sensuality of his masterful touch. Then he bent forward, tasting my pussy and caressing me again as he had done that first night with his exquisite tongue. Even if I had wanted to tense up, I simply couldn’t. I might have had my pride, but my pussy had none. And besides, she was too far gone and he was far too insistent. There was just something about him that was far too knowledgeable and far too into me for me to fathom. It seemed he understood my body far better than I did and because of this knowingness, I knew he could and would wait. Wait for me until I was good and ready for him. And wait he did, because he could. He had that power, that magic; he could linger and linger… until he knew by my wetness and the swelling, swaying movement of my hips that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Only then did he stop, get up and begin to undress. Because by then he knew I had forgotten every protest and would wait for him no matter what. And when he came to me, naked and ready, I surrendered easily and followed him as he took me with sure strides to that brilliant destination only he knew of. And there we lingered, crying out and coming powerfully and magically together.
Then he lay quiet inside me for a long time. And strange as it may seem considering the short time I had known him, in that amazing stillness I found myself clinging to him and loving him with all my heart.
Such was the intensity of his focus that he had made me his.
I didn’t know how; but I knew it was true.
And in that moment, I wanted to be his, desperately and now that it was done, now that he had possessed me so thoroughly and completely, I took pleasure in it and was satisfied. And felt sure that he knew I wanted to be possessed in exactly the way in which he had possessed me.
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