LACKING VIRTUES (33 page)

“So here’s what I’m saying to you, Nicole,” Henri continued in his gruff but warm voice, “You’ve got yourself a friend who knows the important things. That’s good. We should drink to that.”

“Not me,” Nicole said. “It’s too early.”

Isabelle waived her husband off but Steven made no attempt to refuse.

Henri poured two glasses of
marc
and shoved one across the table in his direction.

He tipped his glass and nodded at Henri, still careful not to smile. He was feeling better. He hadn’t blown it, his instincts hadn’t given him away. But he hadn’t offended these great country folks, either. As long as he could express his genuine emotions through a display of grateful gluttony, he supposed he could keep up the nastier aspects of his facade.

Steven finished his third sausage and drank another shot of
marc
.

Henri stood and fastened his suspenders. He pointed a thumb at the door. “Isabelle,” he said, “to work.”

He looked at Steven and Nicole. “Ah, yes, and
mes enfants
, you have a good time today. You remember where the keys to your father’s house are, don’t you, Nicole?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, be sure to go over there. Isabelle has prepared you a picnic lunch. She left it in the kitchen refrigerator, no room for it here.”

“Thank you, Isabelle,” Nicole said.

“It’s not much,” Isabelle said, stacking the dirty plates. “Oh, by the way, Monsieur, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What do you do for a living?”

This one had been part of the drill.

“Commerce,” Steven said. “My father has purchased an American firm, Plastiques de New England. Opportunities are good.”

“
Bon dieu
. Did I understand him right, Nicole? His father has purchased an American company?”

Nicole smiled. “That’s right.”

“Well, my dear, I think your fears are not necessary. I am sure Monsieur Michelet will approve of Monsieur LeConte. He is helping France defend Herself against the foreigners. Isn’t that what your father wants all of us to do?”

“I’m not sure what he wants,” Nicole said. “Perhaps you are right, and father will accept Monsieur LeConte – when the time is right. But the right time is not now. Promise you won’t forget, Isabelle.”

The old peasant woman held a finger to her lips. She had a twinkle in her eye. Steven hoped Nicole knew what she was doing. 

***

They kissed for a long time in the foyer of the old manor. “Let’s do it in grandfather’s bedroom,” Nicole whispered. “We’ll make him roll over in his grave. He deserves it. He was even more rigid and unfeeling than father.”

“How about that wine cellar you were telling me about?” Steven said. “I’ve always had a fantasy of taking you in the wine cellar of some old French country home.”

“How about both?” Nicole said.

“I think you’ve solved our dilemma.”

They had just taken a leisurely tour of the manor. Steven had noted the location of three rooms: the library, the dining room and the drawing room. He was certain that the Wednesday night meetings would be held in one of them.

Fortunately, all three rooms were in the forward half of the house. Nicole had said that the wine cellar was in the basement, and he needed an excuse for checking it out. He believed he was moving in the right direction.

“I have
not
solved the dilemma,” Nicole said. “At least not fully. The question remains, where first?”

“I say, the wine cellar. While we’re down there we select a good bottle for lunch, then we take Isabelle’s picnic basket out to where they’re harvesting the grapes. We have a walk, maybe a little nap in the sun,
then
we come back and start your grandfather rolling.”

She kissed him again, hotly. “Grandfather’s room is a lot closer. Come on.”

He picked her up, swung her around, and kissed her some more. “Listen, woman, I can’t always let you get your way. Where’s the wine cellar?”

“Outside and around. But my legs are too weak. I might not even make it to grandfather’s room. Steven, know what? You could take me right here. I mean, standing up. You told me it was possible.”

He slipped his hand under her light summer dress, ran his fingers around the edge of her panties. She sighed. She wasn’t joking. She was ready.

Right here sounded good, but he held himself back. “A compromise,” he said. “We do it standing in the wine cellar.”

“And you carry me the whole way.”

“Deal.” He slung her over his shoulder and carried her out the door. “Which way?”

“Left, around the side of the house. You’ll see it. Do you have the keys?” 

“In my pocket.”

“Hurry. I’m dying for you. Don’t trip.”

They both started laughing. He came to a row of hedges that grew alongside the manor. He tried to take a shortcut by hugging the wall. There might have been enough room to slip through if he bent down below the fattest part of the hedges, but with Nicole on his back he couldn’t do it.

He wiggled out and took the long way outside the hedges. He hadn’t gone far when he came to a brick path and a break in the foliage.

“It’s here,” Nicole said, still laughing.

At the end of the path, abutting the manor wall, were two horizontal doors, the kind they had on storm cellars in the States.

“Hang on,” he said. “I have to put you down so I can unlock this thing.”

He dropped to his knees. She still clung to him, pretending she refused to let go. She was young, she was a kid having fun. It wasn’t only the sex that excited her but their play as well, the sort of play he imagined she had missed during her entire growing up.

He laid her down on top of the door, which looked rather new and was made of smooth heavy-gauge metal. She stretched out on her back and sighed while he fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one.

“We could do it here,” she whispered. “Look how alone we are, Steven.  There’s no one within a mile.”

“On a metal door?”

“Why not?”

“No. A deal’s a deal. Standing up in the wine cellar.”

“Then hurry.”

“Dammit, I’m trying.”

When he found the right key, the lock sprang open. It was an expensive lock, smooth and easy to operate. Nicole wouldn’t get off, so he lifted the door a crack with her on it. She squealed and slid a few inches to the side. He let the door close again.

There was something he didn’t like. A light in the cellar had come on automatically when he opened the door. This could be a big problem if he tried to sneak in when it was dark. It could alert someone in the house to his presence. He would have to think about how to deal with it. 

Yes, think about it. But later.

He got physical and rolled Nicole onto a patch of grass. He scarcely had to pull. The door came up as if it had a will of its own and stayed open, like a garage door. It was a quality door, heavy but counter-weighted for easy use. The hinges were smooth and silent. He imagined it was break-in proof for someone who didn’t have a key, which wasn’t a bad idea when the protection of old vintages was at stake.

He glanced at Nicole. She was watching him intently, lying on her back in the grass. She had stopped laughing, she was as still as the fall day. Had she grown suspicious? No, he didn’t believe so. She smiled at him, a trusting smile.

Her dress came up above her legs, whether a result of her own doing or their tussling, he didn’t know. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. God, she was beautiful. For now he would prop the door open and leave the light on. He had a very pleasant job to do, a job he couldn’t postpone any longer. He reached over, slid her panties off and stuffed them in his pocket.

“Right here?” she whispered.

“No. Come on.” He dragged her to her feet, shifted her behind him and lifted her piggy back, then started down the steep, narrow steps. The stones were worn in the center from two centuries of use. The footing wasn’t great. No railing. He was glad he had strong legs.

The basement wasn’t at all as he had pictured it. Though the outside walls of the manor were gray and smooth, the vaulted ceilings and the floor down here were of red brick. He saw a maze of passageways, but no wine.

“Where’s the damn wine cellar?” he whispered.

“To the left up there, toward the front of the house.”

“Thanks.” He picked up the pace. She kissed his ears, reached down, pulled out his shirt and unbuttoned it, ran her fingers over his chest.

Two more turns and he came to an ancient wood and metal door that looked to have been reinforced. “Give me the keys,” whispered Nicole.

He dug them out of his pocket and handed them to her. She was still riding piggy back. He bent his knees and turned sideways so she could insert the key in the lock.

The door opened with a shriek, no new hinges. No lights came on either. He stepped into the dim rectangle and noticed an immediate change in temperature and humidity. Whoever took care of the cellar – Henri, he imagined – knew what he was doing.

He located the light switch but didn’t use it. The basement outside was lighted, it wasn’t pitch black. Better a little too dark than a lot too bright.

He backed up to a stack of cases whose top was just below shoulder height. Nicole sat on it. He turned around and faced her, kissing the insides of her thighs while he worked his fly open. Now he was ready, very ready. He put his arms around her waist and slid her down on him.

When he entered her, she gave a sharp little cry and wrapped her legs around his torso.

She started moving in a way that drove him crazy. She was breathless, she wouldn’t be long. Neither would he, unless he slowed things down.

“Let’s torture ourselves,” he said. “This is so good I don’t want it to end. Let’s make it last, okay? Don’t let me come, and I won’t let you come.”

“I don’t know if I can wait,” she sighed.

“Yes you can. I’ll show you.” He held her buttocks tightly so she couldn’t move. “Be still for a minute. Then we’ll start up slowly . . . so slowly. We’ll pretend we’re floating around in sea of eternal pleasure.”

“Steven, I love you. I never want to lose you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, letting her move again. “You’re not going to lose me. I love you, too, Nicole.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Steven, I can’t do it. I can’t,  I – ”

“Neither can I. Jesus, Nicole . . . Jesus Christ.”

He let her go, let himself go. Her cries rang in his ears. He couldn’t believe the intensity. It had been good, better than good, spectacular.

He felt too weak to hold both of them up any longer and returned her gently to the top crate where he had first deposited her. Still standing, lay his head in her lap. She stroked his hair. He could feel her tears falling on the back of his neck.

Things between them were too good, just too goddamn good. How long, he wondered, until it all fell apart?