CultOfTheBlackVirgin (23 page)

His hands, as they held onto a bottle, held up a glass, were also as beautiful as before, but watching them caused Jo to think of what they had done to her, how much pleasure they had given her, and how intimate they had been with her body.

Those fingers
,
they’ve touched every part of me. I tried to swallow them. They were inside me.

Stop It!

She shook her head slightly and tried to focus on something else. Food was on its way, but she doubted she would be able to eat—her stomach was clenched. Like earlier that afternoon, she felt something close to nausea. Fortunately, when the waiter came out to serve the first course, Luc moved his chair so that he sat just out of her line of sight.

Again, the starter was excellent—a selection of pates and slices of veal terrine complemented a salad of rocket and herbs. Everyone attacked their plates appreciatively, and although she was hungry, Jo couldn’t help being aware of the queasy feeling in her belly. Again, the food was tasteless and greasy in her mouth. Her determination to stop watching and dreaming of her lover while she was in public had disappeared. Was she really that weak, she wondered with disgust?

Or was it Luc? Was he that strong?

Oh sure—blame it on him. It’s not your fault, then, is it? What a pathetic evasion.

She was still angry, apparently, and now she turned it on herself
.

After the starter plates were cleared away Luc got up to serve another wine—this time, a white. Jo watched him again make his way around the table, making sure each person was served the
Semillon,
called
Montravel
, to enjoy with the main course. He joked and laughed easily with the group.

“After this one, my friends, you’re on your own. Because by then you’re going to be too drunk to appreciate a good wine. I advise you to switch to
vin du pays ordinaire
before you bankrupt yourselves on the good stuff.”

Everyone laughed. Even Iris, this time.

Jo watched his dark head bend over the table across from her as he poured, and she thought of how that head was, only a day ago, resting against her belly, her hands tangled in the soft hair. Then his lips were at her breasts, kissing them, pulling at her nipples. That same curling head had also been between her legs, his mouth licking and sucking her to climax after climax. So sweet, so sharp and intense, so exhausting that she begged him to stop. She couldn’t take any more, she thought. But then, it turned out, she could—and she did.

And then he fucked her brains
all
the way out, so it seemed.
Another cliché
, she thought, smiling to herself in amusement. But it was true. She hadn’t been able to form a coherent thought since Tuesday.

Jo sighed loudly, aware that she had caught Iris’s attention. She stole a look at the lumpish woman beside her who was viscously attacking a stubborn hangnail.

By the time Luc had circulated around to Jo and Iris’s side of the table with the wine, Jo was wet. She wiggled in her chair, enjoying the sensation. He came up behind her and filled her glass, then Iris’s.

“Try it, both of you. Tell me what you think.”

Each dutifully sipped. He put the bottle on the table in front of them, stood up straight, and placed one hand companionably on each woman’s shoulder. Again, Jo started a little at his touch. Was he thinking what she was thinking?

He squeezed her shoulder as he leaned slightly into her ear and asked softly, “Well, what do you think, Joanna?”

The touch of his hand fired all of her senses simultaneously—as did the reverberation of his low voice, the warmth of his nearness, the bulk of his body only inches from her face. And then there was the familiarity of his scent—she could just discern it as he leaned into her.

She didn’t know at what point during the evening she decided to go to him—maybe it was just at this moment—but with a wide, mischievous smile on her face, she turned to look up into his extraordinary blue eyes and said, “It’s marvelous, Luc. I give it a
Ten
.”

When he heard Jo emphasize the word
ten
, Luc’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. Giving her a wordless nod, he went back to his seat, forgetting to ask Iris for her opinion.

Once she’d made up her mind to accept his invitation, Jo grew increasingly agitated. A perfectly cooked duck
confit
was served as a main course, but she found it difficult to eat much. Dessert was out of the question, and she’d stopped drinking, taking only a few very small sips now and then in order to make her glass of
Montravel
last.

A terrible thrill had settled in. And it was accompanied by an equally terrible guilt. What a hypocrite she was! Not an hour ago she’d almost convinced herself to put an end to this insanity. To call Tuesday a one-day stand. Now, after everyone went to bed, she couldn’t wait to sneak into her lover’s room. In her excitement she began to fidget in her chair, and had to will herself to sit still in her wet underwear. She suspected Edward knew exactly what was going on. She caught him frowning at her and she knew her body was giving her away. She couldn’t control it, so she tried to calm herself by rhythmically rubbing the big stone of her ring.

Carol and Marcie, on the other side of the table, had been sending inquisitive looks her way all evening, she thought. They knew something was up, she was certain.

Everybody probably knows what a hypocrite I am. And a slut.

She’d been found out, somehow. It shouldn’t have surprised her. She was no actress, no dissembler, she’d always known that, and Edward’s warning to her had emphasized that clearly. Poker had never been her game.

If they knew something was going on between her and their married tour guide, she deserved their condemnation. She looked up defiantly to face her judgment. But as she looked around the table, she saw that everyone was deep in conversation, arguing for tighter immigration laws, fewer public surveillance cameras, better airline food.

Maybe she had nothing to worry about. Maybe she was becoming paranoid. Maybe Edward was exaggerating, although he didn’t seem the sort to make something out of nothing. Sighing, she lowered her head and pushed the trifle around in her bowl.

Well fuck everyone! So I’m a failure at hiding my feelings! I don’t fucking care…the only thing I do care about right now is going up to Luc’s room to fuck
him.

Shocked at her own anger, again she wondered what she had turned into. She looked at Luc, who was watching her. Realizing her face probably expressed her contradictory emotions, she gave him the barest of smiles, lowering her eyelids in what she hoped was a subtle affirmation.

There was nothing in herself she could appeal to. Not duty, nor protocol, nor honor, nor love for James could stop her from going to her French lover tonight.

Where was her sense of common decency?

And common sense? Where was that? Once past her flakey salad days, Jo had matured into one of the most reliable women she knew.

Yes, she’d moved beyond basic common sense all right. Practically throwing James’ engagement ring back at him and then fucking a complete stranger. And now she was ready to do it again. Dying to do it again, in fact.

She didn’t recognize herself at all anymore.

But—and this was precisely the point—she had never felt more intensely alive than she had these past few days. There was something strange and powerful at work in her. Certainly it started with the instant surge of lust she felt when she first saw Luc—but there was more to it than that. She was learning that it was wonderfully freeing to give up her self-control. It was exhilarating.

Throughout her life Jo always exercised a high degree of restraint, yet Luc was easily able to take that away from her. And rather than balk, or rebel, as she had with her father, her previous lovers, and James, with Luc she easily opened to give everything of herself. And in the giving up of her power, she felt, paradoxically, even more powerful.

The Black Virgin’s wise face appeared before her as she thought about this profound change in her attitude. If someone had told her that one day she’d discover the best of her sexuality by handing over her power to a man, she would have scoffed. That wasn’t how her generation was raised to think. But now she respected the Virgin’s ancient wisdom. The wisdom to find the highest expression of her sexual self. And if it could only be found through giving up her will—through losing her
self—
so be it.

By giving herself over to Luc she’d never felt more animal. But she also felt more feminine than she’d known possible. It was a bizarre contradiction.

Humbled by this profound realization, all she knew was that she would sacrifice everything she had for another snatch at life at this most base, primitive level. She was a full-fledged member of the Virgin’s cult, now.

After the
Montravel,
Luc took no more wine with his meal. Neither did he join the others in their brandy nightcaps. He quickly finished his coffee and made an announcement.

“Friends, today was a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer, so I want to make an early start in the morning.”

Groans were heard all around the table.

He continued. “I have several hours of paperwork to complete for a project I’m working on, so I’m going to wish you all a pleasant evening and bid you a good night.”

After he left, amidst a chorus of good nights, it was not an easy time for Jo. For the sake of manners, she stuck it out as long as she could. Carol and Marcie were giggling together like two teenagers, and still sending curious glances her way. Did she look scarlet to them tonight, she wondered? She forced herself to wait until someone else left the table before she bolted, not wanting to add more fuel to their fire.

Eventually, thank God, after a second coffee Thomas and Ellen were ready to go upstairs, and Jo joined everyone in wishing them a good night. Then it was her turn to excuse herself, after telling a string of lies designed to convince everyone she was going straight to bed. Alone.

Yes—her arms were sore from canoeing. Yes—her yoga injury still hurt her. Yes—she was absolutely exhausted and yes she knew she’d sleep well after the exertions of the day. She barely glanced at Iris as she suffered through her excuses, but she did manage to see the florid girl’s expression of utter contempt.

As she lied she kept her face calm and her voice even, although she was raging with impatience. In her mind she was already running upstairs to Room Ten. To begin to live.

Once in her room, she forced herself to wait until she heard all the other doors open and close for the night. Waiting was agony, but she didn’t want to be caught wandering the halls in her robe. She’d have to invent another lie, and she couldn’t be bothered right now.

Removing her ring without a shred of guilt, she luxuriated at her
toilette
, taking pleasure in preparing her body for her lover. When she was absolutely certain everyone had settled down, she slipped naked into a silk robe printed with red poppies, stepped barefoot into the hall, and sprinted up the stairs. The door to Room Ten was slightly ajar, and gave a small squeak as she pushed it open.

* * * *

On the bed, naturellment. Then on the floor. In the chair. Maybe in the bathtub. Throughout the night, past all reasonable expectations of sleep.

Luc was growing increasingly nervous as he glanced at the clock on the bedside table for the fifteenth time since he’d come up to his room. It was now twenty after twelve.

Merde! Where is she?

He hadn’t done any work at all.

Maybe he’d misread her signs, this time. Maybe he wanted her so much he couldn’t trust his own judgment anymore.

When she ranked the wine a
Ten
, the look on her face held every promise he could hope for. He had delivered an invitation, and she accepted it.

Didn’t she?

Of course she did!

He thought he knew her well enough now to understand her subtle sense of humor. And he also knew her enough to tell she wasn’t the type to trifle with him.

She would come to Room Ten tonight. As soon as she could. He felt it in his bones. In his gut. In his…

A slight squeak from the door caused his head to jerk up. When he saw her slip into the room he experienced a flood of relief. He didn’t realize he’d been holding himself so tightly.

* * * *

Jo saw Luc sitting at a laptop surrounded by papers when she quietly stole in and locked the door behind her. He turned to her with a look of surprise, then the tiniest of smiles flickered at the corners of his beautiful mouth. He was wearing the same light pants he’d worn at dinner, and nothing else.

A feathery flutter ran up from her belly to her throat as she looked at his muscled arms, his finely formed chest. They stopped at the tattoo on his bicep and her breath caught. She could hear her heart hammering as they both remained perfectly still, looking at each other.

It was very quiet in the room. She moved first, slowly untying her robe as she walked toward him. She loosened it to let it slide down over her shoulders, resting just where her pointed nipples caught the thin fabric. She had all of his attention. A shrug, and the robe slipped down lower, exposing her breasts fully. Motionless, he kept his gaze on her as she let it fall completely to the floor. She inched closer, stopping in front of him, naked, trembling with the thrill of her bravado and an intense desire. A large soft bird was fluttering somewhere inside her, trying to break out of her belly.