Chapter 4
Denise was gone, but Raul still had the taste of her kiss upon his lips -her lips and the musky, starchy odor of his own pleasure release which she had accepted so eagerly in her mouth. His body was in the grip of a languorous weakness. Maybe, he suddenly had too much of something hot, but it wasn't a bath, he mused as a smile creased his rugged features.
When he was dressed, he walked to a little bistro three blocks from his hotel. He felt ravenously hungry as he smelled food and ordered a well-done steak. A meal like that should certainly start recharging his batteries for further action on the stud front.
To take his mind off Denise, he watched the slender waitress flitting about. She was a redhead with a pert laughing face, fine teats and shapely legs. Her figure filled the dress more than adequately, and she gave a flip of her ample hips and ampler behind now and then as she flitted about that was really something to watch.
There had seemed to be something vaguely familiar about her when she'd served him, but he'd been too hungry to ponder it. Now it came to him. Yvette Moreau. He remembered her as a scrawny, skinny-legged kid four or five years behind him in years. He took a closer look as she came toward his booth. She was certainly no longer a scrawny kid. She had filled out -and very satisfactorily -in all parts.
She stopped at his table, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. She held a pot of coffee in the other hand.
"More coffee, sir?"
"I believe I will, Yvette."
Her face lit up. "Then you do remember me."
"I do now. I was too hungry to take a good look when I came in. My apologies, Yvette. I didn't mean to snub you."
"Oh, I knew you right off. I live in the hotel where you're staying -just down the hall three doors -and I've seen you coming and going."
"That's good to know, your staying there. I'll remember that."
"Can I depend on it?" Her smile deepened, and she leaned in, one hand on the table near his. She took a deep breath, and one tit almost hit him in the face. He resisted the impulse to snap at it. "Did you really come back to start some kind of business, Raul?"
"Could be," he smiled. "I'll tell you one thing, for sure: if it's some kind of restaurant I'd be happy to have you work for me. You're a darn good waitress."
"I think I'd like to work under you, Raul." To make sure he caught her full meaning, she covered his hand with hers.
Raul didn't move his hand. "Maybe I'll give you that chance, Yvette."
Reluctantly she drew her hand away, poured his coffee and left. This time she gave an extra switch of her plump, sexy bottom, and he was positive she was fully aware of it.
Except for Lefevre and Denise, Yvette was the first person in the village who had recognized him. Raul had seen a few familiar faces on the streets but not one had shown him any signs of recognition.
It gave him a warm glow, being recognized... a feeling he was sure would not last.
He gazed down into the steaming cup, his thoughts as black as the coffee as the past crept back to him. With a sigh, he let his thoughts spiral back...
It seemed such a long time ago, so long ago that it could easily have happened to someone else. He'd never really known a home life. All he could remember was the stench of cheap cognac and the constant drunken bickering of his parents. When they were killed in the accident, all he had felt was relief. They'd gotten especially drunk and gone for a wild ride around the lake, and their car went over a high bluff and into the water. If the accident hadn't been observed, it might have been weeks, even months before the bodies and the car were discovered.
Raul was an only child, and there were no known relatives. Even at the age of ten, he seriously thought of leaving the village. His parents had been village pariahs, and he had already felt the scorn in the eyes of the other inhabitants.
He probably would have left, if Denise's father, Georges Genet, hadn't taken him in and cared for him. And when Raul finished school, Genet gave him a job in the bank. Raul didn't think it too great a favor, considering the work he'd done to earn his keep at the Genet home. He'd paid his way by gardening, doing repair work around the house, growing and learning at the same time.
He'd come to think that nothing Genet did for him was any great favor, for it had soon dawned on him that he was little more than a houseboy, or a yardboy, since the big house was full of servants to perform the indoor chores.
Raul never did figure out why Genet gave him the job behind a teller's window. The only reason he could advance was Genet's conscience. He had gotten eight years of hard labor out of the boy at the cost of a room over the stable, board, clothes, and a few Francs spending money.
Not that Raul wasn't glad to get the job. It beat hell out of painting gutters and repairing plumbing and so on. Not only was he happy to be working in the bank, but he found that he had a flair for figures and an abiding respect for money, even other people's.
For the son of the town drunks, Raul thought he was doing quite well. He knew most of the year-round residents of the village, got to know their problems and their reliability or lack of it. He had an acute sense of economics and, for his youth, a profound insight into character. Even the old man listened, in time, to his opinions about loans to the small businessmen of the village.
Then one June Denise came home from school for her summer vacation, and she was no longer the awkward brat who had tagged at his heels while he worked around the Genet estate. Overnight, it seemed to Raul that she had blossomed to womanhood, and she was quite a flower with her slim, shapely body, the big jutting titties and the well rounded ass.
Raul was still living in the small apartment over the stable and performing weekend chores in lieu of rent. He was making good money now, and had long ago lost his virginity. Sensitive about his background, acutely aware that the villagers were watching him closely to see if he would follow in his parents' reeling footsteps, he was very careful in the village, never even risking a beer in the local bistro. And certainly he'd never made a pass at a village girl. For booze and his sex, he took a bus to the city and prowled Paris for his cunt.
But now, literally under his nose, was a piece he couldn't ignore. He tried, but his nights were tormented with erotic dreams of Denise writhing in passion in his arms, her snatch eager for his touch.
He would awake sweat-soaked and throbbing. And although she had never been in side the apartment, he could have sworn he smelled her subtle perfume. Night after night he rolled on the bed in an agony of desire, and now and then he would have to jerk himself off to go to sleep. He would have to grab his pulsating peter and work it off, ejaculating to ease his desires.
The second week Denise was home, her father left on a two-week business trip. And the first Sunday he was gone, Denise invited Raul on a picnic.
She packed a basket lunch and they went in her car to a small mountain lake. The lake was on private property, and they had it all to themselves. It was a warm day, and the water looked inviting.
Denise spread a checkered tablecloth on the grassy bank and started to set out sandwiches, deviled eggs and stuffed celery sticks. She wore a wide skirt and a peasant blouse with a low, scalloped neckline which showed off the upper swells of her full, creamy breasts. As she set the lunch, Raul could see deep into the shadowy vale between her tits. And when she turned, still bent over the skirt drew taut across her trim buttocks and he could see the lines of her panties. He lay down on his back behind her, and as she bent farther he caught a glimpse of the delightful thighs, far up.
He felt a powerful surge, an urgent throbbing. His prick swelled into rigidity inside his pants.
He jumped to his feet. "Let's take a swim before we eat, Denise. That lake looks good to me."
"But I didn't bring a suit."
"Neither did I, but who cares? You said this was private property. Who's to see but us? " He grinned. "I'm going in anyway." He began to remove his shirt.
She looked at him wide-eyed. "Raul. We can't go swimming in the nude?
"Can't we? I can." His tone made it a dare.
Without waiting for an answer or looking at her again, he stepped out of his trousers. In his shorts, he raced to the lake and cut the water in a shallow dive. He swam out a few yards before he turned back, treading water. She was standing at the water's edge, staring out at him.
He called out, "Come on in, the water's fine."
The lake was about a hundred yards wide. He swam halfway before he paused to look back again. In that time she had stripped to panties and bra, and her hands were behind her back at the bra catch. She looked out at him. Now she had her fingers hooked in the elastic of the pink panties. He held his breath. Would she or wouldn't she?
Then she flung back her head. The sound of her laughter reached him across the water. Still in the panties, she ran into the water, her big bare tits jiggling up and down wildly, and with long, smooth strokes she swam toward him.
He knew that the panties, thoroughly soaked, would hide her cunt no more than a wisp of cobweb. For that matter, his cock and balls would be quite visible through his soaked shorts. He began to look forward to the time when they would leave the water.
She swam to within a few yards of him, then raised her head to say, "This is marvelous."
She was an excellent swimmer, and he found it hard to keep up with her. As her lithe body flashed through the water, he caught rhythmic glimpses of her gleaming breasts right, then left, then right again, her strokes an erotic ballet. Finally he got close enough to see that her big nipples were swollen and taut.
Then she turned and struck out in a straight line for the shore. He swam after her, and began to gain on her. Later he realized she had swum slower so he could overtake her.
When he was close enough to touch her, he took a deep breath and went under, propelling himself forward with a mighty kick. He rolled onto his back and looked up. She had slowed to a float. She was fanning her legs wide now, her thighs lazily closing, opening, closing, her golden cunt hairs very obvious through the sodden panties.
The panties concealed nothing. He rose toward her, one hand reaching to cup her crotch, feeling the crinkly bush and the pussy lips part.
Denise convulsed, thrashing the water wildly, as he grasped her twat.
Dropping a leg, he could feel the ground under his feet. He planted himself firmly and reared up, catching her around the waist, hefting and bringing her against him. When they broke water, it came midway on his chest, and her bare breasts were level with his face.
Denise's arms went around his neck. "Oh, Raul." He nuzzled first one, then the other gleaming, hard-nippled teat. The nipples were smooth, water-slick. They excited him tremendously.
A sigh came from Denise, and her legs scissored his waist. She rubbed her cunt again his swollen cock, pushing the front of his soaked shorts. Her mouth was open, her head back, and now a constant moaning came from her. When he let her slip slowly down in his arms, she found his mouth and they sank below the surface, mouths glued together. The kiss went on and on, until Raul feared his lungs would burst for lack of air.
Finally they broke the surface again, both laughing and gasping. She came back into his arms eagerly, and he crushed his mouth on hers, probing the sweet cave with his tongue as her vulva burned against his scorching prick.
For a while they cavorted in the water, playful as seals, splashing, ducking and tickling one another. Then it turned serious. It had been serious for Raul ever since he had seen her nearly naked on the lake'sedge, but she had seemed in a playful mood and he had gone along. But now she grew heavylidded, and her breathing was loud, labored in passion.
A moment before, unseen by Denise, Raul had slipped out of his shorts and let them float away. Her eyes widened and she gasped at the view of his huge, scarlet cock curving outward and upward from his bush. She tried to jerk away, but he had a firm grip on her.
"Raul, I don't think...I didn't intend for this to happen."
He felt like asking what she had expected, but instead he pulled her more firmly to his naked cock and balls and ground his mouth on hers. She struggled for a moment, but then the fight went out of her and she sagged weakly against him.
Without breaking the kiss, he reached between them and hooked his fingers in her panties. They tore like wet paper, and she made only a token protest. Her belly flesh was slippery to his touch. He felt her shiver as he caressed her bared pussy lips.
"Are you cold?"
She pressed her thighs together, but as he persisted gently, she relaxed and opened her thighs so his fingers could penetrate her vagina. "Kiss me, darling. Kiss me."
Their love play had brought Raul dangerously far; he knew he couldn't wait much longer before he would shoot his wad and cream all over her bare belly. Without taking his mouth from hers, he reached behind her, grasped her ass-cheeks and lifted her, moving her down, down...Then he leaned back ever so little and drove his hips forward, and his jutting prick plowed into her hot, velvety cunt.
"No, Raul. Not like this. You don't understand. I'm..."
She tried to fling herself away, but she was too late. He had his cock half way inside her.
She whimpered pitifully in his ear with each jolt, but Raul was past the point of caring, his only interest was to bury his throbbing prick all the way up her twat.
It was weird. It was fantastic. The water tugged at them, and their wet bodies slipped and slid like eels, as his huge organ worked furiously inside of her. As his ecstasy began, it was as if a volcanic tidal wave carried him high and brought him crashing down, again and again. He groaned aloud. He surged, pulling her, violent against him and shuddering wildly, as his pulsating prick ejected his sperm, flooding her hot, tight cunt.
At last the strength went out of his legs and he sank slowly beneath the water. He floated near the bottom until he finally found strength enough to surface.
Denise was splashing toward shore. He stumbled after her, caught her arm and helped her. They reached the grassy bank and fell together, side by side fighting for breath.
Finally Denise stirred. "That was the first time I'd ever fucked with a boy...ever."
"What." He reared up to stare at her. It was hard to believe, but, as he looked at her he knew it was true. He felt a flush of shame. It shouldn't have happened to her like this. Not the first time.
Then male pride surged through him. For she was, without a doubt, his very first virgin.
Denise said shyly. "I'm glad it was you, Raul."
"You know something? So am I." He laughed suddenly, joyously, and sat up. "You know something else. I'm starving."
Naked and unbothered by it, they ate every morsel Denise had brought in the basket. Then they shook the crumbs out of the tablecloth and spread it over them to prevent sunburn. She slept, her hot, soft titties and belly curled tight against him, her breath warm and sweet on his cheek.
Some time later, Raul was awakened by gently urging hands upon his half-erect cock. At first he thought he was back in the apartment dreaming of Denise again. Then he heard her giggle, and saw her sparkling eyes. It was a simple matter to roll over without disturbing the tablecloth. She didn't let go of him until the last possible second.
This time it was much better, though he wouldn't have thought it possible. Her re sponse was immediate. Her legs opened wide for him, and his prick thrust into her wet, warm cunt quite easily -to the hilt. His balls bumped against the hairs of her completely filled pussy lips, and she went utterly wild long before he reached his peak.
After that, Raul no longer had to dream of Denise being in his room. She was there at every opportunity, and the small room was filled always with the rich, female scent of her. Or, they would go for night rides in his old car and fuck in the bushes.
One thing troubled him. He had worked at the bank for three years. He felt he was settled in. He loved Denise and she loved him. He wanted to go to her father and tell him he loved his daughter. He wanted to get married. But Denise put him off. She loved him and she wanted to marry him, but not just yet. Her father wanted her to finish her schooling before she thought of marriage, and she had two years to go.
Raul suspected the truth, that Genet didn't want his daughter marrying the son of the village drunks. He suspected, but he didn't want to face up to it. And Denise swore on her heart and soul that she didn't care one sou who his parents were, and he believed her.
Then the thing happened that tore it wide open.
Edouard Lefevre had come to work at the bank eighteen months after Raul. Now there came an opening right below the position of head teller, who was himself due to retire soon. Raul had every right and reason to expect the job, but Genet promoted Edouard over Raul's head. This made it clear that Lefevre, not Raul would be in the position for the head teller's job when it opened.
It was too much.
Raul stormed into Genet's office demanding to know why he had been bypassed. Genet told him, coldly and unemotionally. He knew Denise had been seeing Raul, and it was his hope that she would soon lose interest. In the event she didn't it would be up to Raul to see that she did. Or soon he wouldn't have a job to worry about, much less a promotion.
Brashly, Raul defied him. He told Genet he loved Denise and intended to marry her. It was then that Genet stood, his thin face cold with contempt, and confirmed Raul's darkest suspicions.
"I will never see my daughter married to you. Your parents were trash. I felt sorry for you, and I thought -as young as you were -that a good home would straighten you out. That's why I gave you a job in my bank, too, and I was pleased that you did well. But like father, like son. Blood will always tell. You're trash too, chasing after my daughter behind my back."
Genet was at least forty years older than Raul, which saved him from a beating. But Raul did tell him what he thought of him.
Five minutes later he left the office and the bank. He no longer had a job.
He went in search of Denise, found her sunning herself on the boat dock below the house. In a skimpy bikini, she was as lovely as ever -so lovely his throat ached at the intimate parts of her he knew so well, and it was almost impossible for him to say what he had to tell her.
When he'd blurted out the essentials: "You told Papa." A look of dismay swept her face.
"He knows all about us. Your being seduced by the son of the village drunks didn't seem to bother him too much..." He let the bitterness show in his voice, "...but when I told him we intended to marry, he really flipped."
"You didn't tell him that." Her hand went to her mouth.
"Why not? You said you wanted to marry me."
"But not now, Raul. You should have waited." He reached for her hand. "Denise, I've made up my mind. I'm leaving this place, and I want you to go with me."
"I can't." She tore her hand away. "I can't just walk away and leave Papa and everything. Not just like that. Don't you see?"
"No. I don't see. I love you, and I want you with me."
Her gaze fell away. There was something here he didn't understand.
"Denise.pleasetell me what's troubling you."
"Edouard asked me to marry him yesterday." She didn't look at him. "He talked to Papa first, and he thought it was a fine idea. He thinks an awful lot of Edouard."
"Edouard? Lefevre?" He started to laugh, then choked it off. His voice was cold with fury when he went on. "And you, Denise? Do you think a lot of Edouard?"
Her eyes were tortured, uncertain. "Ididn't say I'd marry him. I didn't even say I would consider it. But I can't just run off with you, Raul. Where on earth would we go? What would we do?"
"We'll manage. The important thing is that we'll be together."
"That's romantic nonsense, Raul. It's like something out of a cinema. The world doesn't work that way."
He stared at her. He knew it was now or never. He had to reach a decision. He said, "For the last time, Denise...I'm leaving. Are you going with me or not?"
Her head went back. Her features assumed the look of defiance he'd seen but once or twice before. "No, Raul, I'm not. If you leave here now, you leave alone."
He had turned on his heel and strode away without another wcrd.
He'd caught the next train out of town.
For five years he had drifted. He learned bartending. A good bartender can get a job anywhere. Now and then he had word from the village. He learned that Lefevre married Denise and he learned of Genet's heart attack and shortly after of his death.
Right or wrong, Raul blamed the village for being unlucky in love and for not having become someone with real status in life. At the very least, the village, as represented by Genet, should have sent a boy with his brains to college instead of turning him into a flunky for his room and board. His resentment made him dream of revenging himself on the whole damn village for his lost love and his lost future.
And the net result was the planned robbery of the bank. He would despoil it of its money, just as he had despoiled Denise of her maidenhead -and her virtue.
He would fuck the village, as it had shafted him -and as he had screwed the only attractive -and unattainable cunt in it.