Chapter 5
Less than twenty-four hours, after my conversation with Jean Dupont, I was in an airplane bound for Nice. Since it was raining when we took off at Orly, the trip was not a pleasant one-the sky was thick with clouds, the plane bumped a great deal, and a good number of passengers were sick. Past Lyons, however, the sky began to clear, and by the time we crossed the Maritime Alps, visibility was perfect. Villages appeared below, the bright sun beamed in the glass-blue sky, and in the distance the calm Mediterranean began to loom up.
We had a perfect weather when we landed at Nice airport. I took a taxi to Cannes, and checked in at the Hotel Superior where I was given a splendid room facing on the bay. It was only seven o'clock in the evening and the sun was still hot-over the sea; a few bathers were out swimming or idling on the shore. Leaving my room, I had a drink at the bar downstairs, and then asked the attendant where I might find rue de la Mer in Cannes.
"It's a five minutes' walk from the hotel," he told me, and then gave me specific directions.
Rue de la Mer was not difficult to find. It was, like most of the streets in Cannes, very narrow and rather dark. As soon as I had emerged on the street, I once more examined Carla's list, found the house number and the name of the man. I continued walking to the end of the road and there found that the house corresponding to the number on my list was surrounded by a high stone wall. Well-kept double wooden doors were slightly ajar in the wall and I pushed them open and stepped through into the front garden. The ground was all cultivated; flowers of every color and variety grew thick around me. Going up to the front door, I pressed the buzzer.
Almost immediately, the door swung open and the butler looked out at me. "Is this the home of Charles Bonnet?" I asked. "Yes, sir."
"May I speak with Monsieur Bonnet, please?"
"I shall have to see if Monsieur Bonnet is at home," he said rather snobbishly. "Who is calling, please?"
"Howard Cunningham, a friend of Carla."
He looked at me with suspicion. "Would you be good enough to wait a moment, please?"
And he closed the door in my face. The butler's behavior annoyed me, but I did not deny the fact that his rudeness may have been justified, for seven-thirty in the evening is an odd time for an uninvited visitor to come calling.
After a moment, the butler returned:
"Monsieur Bonnet will see you," he said.
I followed him into the house, and he led me through several corridors and out to a sort of winter garden which emerged upon the magnificent gardens in back of the house that had a view on the sea. A dozen people sat in a wide uneven circle, more or less round a long table covered with glasses, bottles, packages of cigarettes, and various appetizers. The atmosphere was one of luxury and laziness.
As I stepped out into the garden, one man stood up and came forward.
"Mr. Cunningham?" he asked. "Yes."
"I'm Charles Bonnet. Please come and sit down."
I followed him to the table and he introduced me to his guests and to his wife, Louise, an angry-looking but attractive woman in her early thirties. Bonnet himself was older, possibly in his middle fifties; he was a trim, wiry little man with gray hair and a gray moustache.
I sat down with him and his wife at a distance from the others.
"What will you take to drink?" he asked me.
I told him, and he went off to bring me a glass. I was left alone with his wife who seemed uninterested in speaking to me but stared straight into my eyes. She was a most attractive woman: fair-haired with black eyes and golden skin. Her thin summer dress had buttons all the way down the front; the buttons were open along her chest and a good deal of her very white breasts was exposed; in fact, when she breathed, little crescents of pink revealed themselves on either side and the breasts themselves seemed to become inflated.
"Here you are," said Bonnet bringing me my drink and seating himself opposite me.
I wondered how to open the conversation about Carla, particularly with Bonnet's wife sitting there, but this was momentarily postponed by Bonnet's asking me:
"Have you been in Cannes very long, Mr. Cunningham?"
"No. I only arrived this evening."
"Ah, a real newcomer."
"Not exactly. I've been here several times before-although I've never actually stayed in the city."
"And you'll be staying here now?"
"Not for very long. A day or two, at most."
"That is very sad," said Louise Bonnet, and breathed so deeply I thought her nipples would pop out of her dress. "This is really the perfect time to be in Cannes before the tourists and the very hot weather arrive."
"I know that," I said, "but it can't be helped."
There was a silence which was not so much awkward as tentative. It was the time to explain my purpose.
"I suppose," I began, "you must be wondering about the point of my visit."
"I confess myself guilty of a certain amount of curiosity, Mr. Cunningham," said Bonnet.
"Well-may I speak bluntly?" I asked, facing Louise.
"Of course," she said.
"The subject of my visit is rather a delicate one. Perhaps it may be wiser if I could see you, Monsieur Bonnet, alone for a few minutes."
Louise Bonnet looked at me coldly. "My husband has no secrets from me," she said.
"That is quite correct, Mr. Cunningham. Please feel free to speak openly."
I hesitated, took a sip at my drink, and began: "I've come at the request of Carla."
"Carla who?" asked Bonnet.
"It isn't likely you knew her by her own name. In any case, it was Carla Arvon."
Bonnet seemed to be reflecting seriously. He looked off across the garden, his eyes resting on the darkening sea.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I can't recall having known anyone by that name."
"It's possible she used another name. She was a ravishingly beautiful woman with platinum-bluish hair, blue eyes-"
"Surely, Charles, you'd remember knowing a woman like that," Louise said to her husband.
"I imagine I would, but I'm afraid if I did know her I've completely forgotten her."
"She has sent you to see my husband?"
"In a way. You see, she's dead. She left a letter for me asking to see several old friends. Monsieur Bonnet is one of the names she left me."
"Perhaps," said Bonnet, "there is another man in Cannes with the same name."
"She also left your address," I said.
"I see...." He paused thoughtfully. "How very odd. Were she and I supposed to have been good friends?"
"I haven't any idea. But the others on her list remembered her quite readily."
"Really, Charles," said Louise. "It's un likely the woman would have bothered about someone she hardly knew."
"Yes, of course," he agreed. "But I honestly cannot recall her. I'm awfully sorry about this, Mr. Cunningham. I should have been very happy to help you-"
"It isn't terribly important. In any case I'll be staying on in Cannes for another day or two, and if you should remember anything about her, you can reach me at the Hotel Superior. I hope you'll forgive me for having barged in on you this evening."
"Not at all," said Bonnet. "I'm delighted to have met you. For those of us who live all year in Cannes, it's always a pleasure to see a new face before the season begins."
"Yes," said Louise. "Could you come here for lunch tomorrow?"
I'd like very much to."
"Good," she said. "Come around noon. Lunch is always informal. If you go swimming in the morning it's perfectly all right to come here in your trunks."
I shook hands with them both, aware of the warm pressure of Louise's fingers. Then, together, they showed me through the house and to the front door.
On the way back to my hotel, I tried to puzzle out the situation. Was this an additional twist of Carla's perversity? Had she planned this as a wild goose chase? It seemed likely, or at least possible, and yet I hadn't been convinced by Bonnet's denial. Well, I could try again at lunch the next day; I would have to plan my strategy carefully, try to insert something in the conversation that was peculiarly like Carla.
As it turned out, however, planning became unnecessary because the desk-clerk at the hotel gave me two telephone messages with my key. The first was from Bonnet:
Yes, of course, I remember Carla. I will meet you in the lobby of your hotel tonight at eleven and will tell you what you want to know.
The second message quite astonished me, for it was from Louise Bonnet. She said:
I will be waiting for you in the garden at two in the morning. I look forward to seeing you.
The desk-clerk smiled as I read this note, and I frowned at him and went up to my room. No sooner had I gone up than I realized how hungry I was. I washed, went downstairs, returned my key, and sought out a restaurant I had dined in years before. I ate a great deal, and ate very slowly, but, still, it was not quite ten o'clock when I went out to stroll along the promenade over the beach.
Here and there, below me, I heard the squeals and grunts of lovers mingling with the roar of the sea. And my thoughts mingled too: the story that Bonnet would tell me of his relations with Carla; and Louise waiting in the garden, her breasts bulging out of her dress, the pink flush of nipple tautening under my kiss. Ultimately, in my thoughts at least, Louise was naked in the garden, and she waited for me to take her, to throw her into a bed of flowers and join my flesh with hers. The image of our mating so excited me that I had to pause in my stroll in order to calm down.
I leaned upon the railing and looked down at the beach. Below me, a boy and a girl-neither of them could have been more than sixteen-lay pressed against each other in wet bathing suits. The girl's suit had been pulled down beneath her breasts and the two young globes were as small and lovely as little waves. One pink nipple was in the boy's mouth, and she stroked his back and sighed.
Suddenly he lifted his arms and began tugging at her bathing suit. It clung tightly to her body, and he pulled roughly, passionately.
"Don't," she whimpered. "You're hurting me."
But he continued to pull the suit down her hips until her soft, gently swelling belly emerged. He put his lips to it and then pulled her suit down further, down to her thighs. The triangle of hair appeared and he kissed it, then moved her bathing suit down her thighs, along her knees and calves, and the girl herself kicked it away. The boy's face disappeared between the girl's thighs, and he had turned himself so that his covered loins were beside her mouth. Gently, she pulled his trunks down, and I heard her sigh as his penis jumped out at her, its thick head nudging at her lips. Her lips patted, and she took the length of him into her mouth, and her face was buried in his hair. They went on this way for several moments, then they separated and turned so that their faces met and their bodies were pressed together. They kissed while his hand stroked between her legs.
"Let me," the boy said, moving his mouth from hers. "I'm afraid. I've never done it before."
"There's nothing to be afraid of. Just relax."
"Will you stop if it hurts me."
"If you want me to."
On his knees, the boy moved between the girl's outspread legs. Slowly, he raised her knees until they were folded back against her body, and the young undamaged part of her was stretched and waiting. The boy moved forward, took his penis in his hand and guided its head to her slit; he slid it back and forth and the girl groaned with pleasure. The tip of his penis lay at the threshold of her sheath, and he shoved gently, then out, and again a little more deeply, and pulled it away.
"Put it all in," the girl cried.
The boy lunged forward, dropping himself upon her, and his shaft ripped relentlessly into the girl. She gave one long gasp of agony.
"Take it out," she cried.
He worked at her for a few seconds until he knew the pain had given way to pleasure, and then he said: "Do you want me to take it out?"
"No, no," she whispered, grinding her body under him.
At that point, with belated discretion, I left the children to their fun.
I returned to my hotel just before eleven and sat in the lobby until Bonnet arrived.
"You will forgive all this subterfuge," he said by way of greeting. "I will explain it all presently. I have my car outside. We can drive over to a nice place I know outside the city. It would be mote convenient to talk there."
I followed him out to his car, and no sooner had we climbed in when he drove off in the direction of Juan-let-Pins.
"The truth of the matter," he began rather' breathlessly, "is that my wife is a very jealous woman and It was not until after our marriage that she learned of my somewhat outrageous past. Since she found this out, she decided that for every woman I had before our marriage, she will have a man. Consequently, the virgin has turned harlot and the lecher has turned saint. It is all a bit trying, so naturally I try not to let her know-or a least to keep her knowledge limited-of my activities in the years or decades before our marriage."
"That's why you pretended not to remember Carla."
"Naturally. Needless to say, I remember her perfectly. And I also know exactly why you are here. She told me you'd come."
"She's dead, you know."
"So I understood from what you said before. I'm sorry to hear that."
"You haven't seen her in some time, I take it."
"Good heavens, no. Not since the war ended. Ours was, if you forgive the irony, a wartime romance. We met because of war; we separated because of peace. It was just as well; we felt little more than lust for each other, and were kept together by our common interests."
"Which were sex."
"To put it mildly. By the time I met Carla, ordinary sexual relations were a rather tedious appetizer for her. It was the variation that counted. She could go to bed with a dozen men, one after the other, or all at once, and still not find the thrill she was looking for."
"And what was the thrill?"
He shrugged. When one is as debauched as she was, can there be any thrills left? Well, whatever sensations the body can experience, Carla experienced." He paused; then: "Here we are. Just down the road."
He parked the car in the lot of a large building rather like a hunting lodge. We went round back where a large terrace with tables and chairs stretched down to the sea. There were a few people about, and the place was lit by dim blue lights. Bonnet led me to a table at the extreme end of the terrace, a few yards from the sea. Here we were alone.
"Out there," said Bonnet, pointing seaward, "all through the war was a large yacht where Carla and I spent many evenings. We used to get a motor-boat from this very terrace out to the yacht. It was an extraordinary boat, but I'll tell you about it presently.
"First let's order something to drink."
We decided on a bottle of champagne. When it came, we toasted the memory of Carla, lit cigarettes, and I settled back in my chair preparing to hear Bonnet's tale. He took another sip of wine, and began:
We met in 1943, in the very hottest days of summer. I enjoy swimming at night; I always have. What I like to do is to take my car and drive along the coast until I find a spot that pleases me. Then, I park at once, take my clothes off and go for a good long swim in the warm sea.
The night I met Carla, I had done just that I had parked at a strip of lonely beach not far from here; I undressed, leaving my clothes in the car, and I went down the short pebbled beach to the edge of the water.
I remember still how warm the water was as I walked outward and began swimming. I swam for about a quarter of an hour before looking shoreward; when I did look back to the beach, I saw that I was roughly a hundred yards west of the place where I had parked my car. Since I was a bit breathless, I decided to begin swimming back at once, very slowly, so that I would not exhaust myself.
But then suddenly I saw a woman standing on the beach. Naturally I couldn't, at that distance, see anything of her face or figure, but I could make out the strange movements of her arms which she held above her head as if offering herself to someone with the greatest abandon. She was alone, however; so curious was I that I made my way gently toward the shore.
As I approached, I saw that she was naked. Her body was superb, covered with shadows, dark and sparkling; her breasts were full and tantalizing, and her nipples were ripe berries. She stood, as I said, with her arms raised and waving slightly; her round succulent belly was thrust forward, writhing sensually. Moaning passionately, she lowered her arms, and each of her hands began robbing one of her nipples, stroking them until they grew stiff. She dropped one of her hands to her thighs and it inched its way to the mound of hair, then darted between her legs.
Here obviously was a woman who needed a man!
Pushing myself forward, I emerged upon the beach behind her. I walked toward her silently and when I was back of her, I reached round and cupped my hands over her full breasts, pulling us so close together that my hot erection lay along the length of the cool split between her buttocks. She seemed not at all surprised, but pushed back at me and writhed her bottom. I dropped one of my hands from her breasts and led it across her full cool belly and across the roundness of her thighs. Her thighs spread to admit my hand. Within, she was already moist: a hot, raw jelly oozed upon my hand.
Abruptly she spun round and put her mouth to mine, her tongue digging between my teeth. I felt her pulling at me, and with one jerk, both of us toppled over, Carla falling backwards to the sand with me on top of her. Our mouths remained together; I bit her lips hungrily, circled my tongue in the hollow of her cheeks.
She moved her head aside: "Bite me," she said. "Beat me."
I obeyed her; moving across each inch of her body, I took bits of flesh in my teeth and bit until I feared I might tear her apart.
"Harder," she'd cry.
And my teeth sank deeper into her. Slowly, I covered her breasts, biting, tearing, ripping, until the pale globes were blue with bruises. Then into her armpits, snapping my teeth into the hairy meat, then to her abdomen-a smooth, glowing swell of flesh from which I made her blood flow. I covered her thighs and calves with bites, her buttocks, the small of her back and at last prepared myself for the most delicious meal of all.
Her legs went wide apart; her knees drew up and offered me the tangle of her loins. I sank my face' against her woman and ate savagely, my teeth clamping upon a bit of fire-hot meat and gnawing at it until she screamed. Brutish and impassioned, my hands clutched at the sand, pebbles, and broken shells around us, and taking masses of it I rubbed it on her body and into her gluey loins, pushing it into her wide wet canal, and then underneath, forcing the debris into the tight passage of her anus.
She was mad with desire and I threw myself upon her and pushed my penis through the web of roughness, inserting myself all the way into her. The sand burned my penis, giving it a sensation I had never before experienced. Carla screamed and shrieked and sighed in a mixture of agony and outrageous joy. Her legs locked me into her, and she heaved so that we began to toll, over and over, across the harsh, pebbly beach. Locked together in a searing embrace, we rolled without end, down the beach to the water. We spun into the water and were covered by the warm delicate breakers.
Then, when we were completely submerged, we stopped rolling. My hands grasped her breasts and pinched mercilessly, and I drove my member in and out of her, thumping wildly into the depths of her body, driving her and myself to the ultimate of pleasure. Our juices mingled with the liquids of the sea, and after the orgasm, we were so weakened that a wave sucked us apart.
When I could get to my feet, I saw that she had managed to drag herself up the beach and was lying, panting, on a blanket I had not seen before. I went over to her, lay down upon the blanket, and we were silent for some time.
At last she broke the silence: "Thank you. That was marvelous."
"Don't mention it. It was my pleasure, I assure you."
"Do you Live around here?" she asked me. "In Cannes. And you?"
"I have a villa in the mountains. I drive down at nights to go swimming."
"And to have an adventure."
"Yes, but. I rarely have one."
"I should think a woman like you would have men at her feet."
She laughed. "Few men swim at night. And in such isolated spots."
"You always come to this same place?"
"No. I usually go to different beaches. In fact, I've never been here before."
"But I hope you'll come back again."
"I certainly will-if you'll be here."
She reached across the blanket and took my penis in her warm hand.
"How heavy it is," she said.
"That's because it's full."
"Full?"
"Full of juice that must be emptied into you-to fill you with."
"I'm afraid," she smiled, "there wasn't enough juice in the world to fill me with. I'm the container doomed always to be larger than the things I must contain."
"Not quite. I think I filled you quite nicely only a few moments ago."
"How long ago that was! So long, I can barely remember."
"Then I must prove it to you once more."
And I edged myself close of her and took her in my arms.
"I want to suck you," she said and slid herself around. Her puckered lips fir themselves over the head of my penis and the tip of her tongue flickered across my opening. Then her mouth moved slowly forward until my entire shaft was buried in the warm plum of her throat. I moved my own face until it was lodged in the hair of her loins. Her flesh was smooth now, for the debris had been washed in the water. I lapped at her lazily, my tongue trailing along her groove from her mound to her anus. I licked at the clitoris, then bit it, and she reciprocated by biting at my penis. My tongue lay at the opening of her hole and I thrust it in and out like little lizard darts, then pushed in as far as I could; I savored the hundred flavors of her wet interior.
When we broke apart, she got on all fours and beckoned to me to get behind her. I did and I saw the gentle droop of her moist hair-lips. I led my instrument between them, pushing it to the twitching mouth of her vagina. I entered slowly, and she thrust herself back upon me: we were once again sealed together. I reached round her, catching her breasts in my hands, and we started swaying, forward and backward. I slid one hand from her breasts to her crack, to the place where my penis was buried in her. With my fingernail I scratched at her, just above the place of contact. I scratched gently at first, then with increasing ferocity, and as the tearing increased so did her passion, and she was thumping backwards against me as though her loins must swallow all of me. I scratched and she pushed until I felt our parts bursting upon each other, swollen with hot passion. At the moment of our climax, I reached both hands into her loins and. tore at her like a madman. She screamed at the top of her lungs and pumped wildly back at me until our explosion ended.
She sank down on her belly with me on top of her, and we lay breathing heavily for some time.
"Would you like to go to a party?" I asked, climbing off her.
"What kind of party?"
"The kind you'd enjoy."
"I'd love to. Where is it?"
"On a yacht out in the bay not far from Juan-les-Pins."
"Can I be back here by five in the morning."
"What's your hurry? It's after two now."
"I like to be at home for my little girl."
"Well, all right. We can be back at five if you like. The yacht's only about twenty minutes from the shore."
She dressed and we walked over to my car where I put my things on.
"My car isn't far from here," she said.
"Well, we can go in mine, and I'll drive you back here later on."
Perhaps I should explain now that ail these luxuries cost an inordinate amount of money. Gasoline-in fact, the whole operation of an automobile-was maintained by paying fantastic sums of money to the Germans. Even the maintenance of the yacht was upheld by consent of the occupying forces; for that reason there was no danger of having the law come down on that boatload of degeneracy. It was not until the war ended that the yacht's life came to a close.
Well, Carla and I drove to this very terrace where several motor-boats always waited to take members out to sea. I showed my membership card and paid for Carla's entry, and then we climbed into the boat and were motored out to sea.
"This is all very exciting," said Carla.
"Just wait until you get to the yacht."
"What happens there?"
"Everything. Whatever you want you can have."
Carla sat close beside me, my arms around her, my hand fondling her breasts. A fresh salt breeze blew flecks of foam into our faces. It was not until we were a couple of minutes away from the yacht that its form became apparent to us.
"But it's an enormous boat," said Carla.
"It used to belong to a wealthy Oriental prince. But he deserted it when the war broke out and it was taken over by a group of-what shall I call them?-sensualists. This group divided the boat into various sections in an attempt to accommodate people with even the most un likely tastes. But here we are now, and in a moment you'll be seeing it all for yourself."
A small elevator compartment had been lowered from the deck at the approach of our boat, and Carla and I climbed in and were pulled upward.
"Good evening, Monsieur Bonnet," the attendant said.
"Good evening. This is Mademoiselle Carla."
"I'm delighted to meet you. I hope you will find some entertainment to your taste," he said.
"I'm sure I will," replied Carla.
We went to the main door, through the lobby and into the cloakroom. As usual, the two cloak attendants were at the desk: a young man and a young woman, both naked.
"We leave our things here," I told Carla, and we both proceeded to undress.
Naked, we continued into the grand hall, a large nightclub affair where everyone from musicians to waiters was completely nude.
"Oh, this is wonderful," cried Carla.
She stood for a while observing dancing couples, some of whom were dancing in the very midst of the love act. One man waltzed while the girl in his arms had her legs wound around him and their loins were linked together. In other parts of the hall, people ate, drank, talked, copulated, urinated, defecated-in fact did anything their hearts desired.
"Would you like to dance?" I asked Carla.
"Later perhaps. I'm so anxious to see the rest of the boat."
"Well, come along out to the passageway."
I led her down to the lower deck where we stopped before a door from behind which came the most excruciating screams.
"What goes on in here?" she asked. "Come in and see."
I pushed the door open, and no sooner had we crossed the threshold when we were attacked by a dozen people all carrying sticks, whips, or other instruments. The large room was filled with people, some beating, others being beaten; couples lay together on couches or on the floor while men and women flogged them or trod on them. Individuals were chained to the walls or hanging by their thumbs or tied to the wheel or lain upon spikes or roped to a cross. And for every tortured person there was a torturer.
"I rarely frequent this room," I shouted to Carla, trying to push my assailants away.
But I was lost to Carla. Passionate cries came from her as she yielded her body to the whips, writhing and turning so that no part of her would be left, as it were, undone. Her legs spread wide.
"Here," she shrieked. "Here. Beat me here."
And a monster of a man began lashing her cunt with all his might. His whip cut at her and she screamed and rejoiced, until it seemed that steam rose from her loins. The man threw himself upon her and drove his stupendous erection through her bruises. Others began to walk over them. A little woman came and forced her behind into Carla's face and left a small turd upon her lips.
"Kill me, I'm coming." Carla screamed, but at that moment the man withdrew his penis.
"Don't stop," she cried.
He stood above her, delighted with her frustrated passion. But another man jumped down to replace the first, and although he was much inferior to the other, he nevertheless brought Carla quickly to her satisfaction.
"Let's get out of hear," I said to her.
"All right," she said, halfheartedly, and I helped her to her feet and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind us.
"Wasn't that fun!" she exclaimed.
"Indeed, you seemed to enjoy yourself. But you're covered with blood."
"I don't mind. That's all part of the kick. What's all this?"
We were passing a row of doors.
"Oh, these are for people who want to be alone."
"No, that doesn't interest me just now. Let's go on to the parties."
We followed the passage to its end and then climbed some stairs, opened a door, and entered the menagerie.
"Doesn't it smell?" she said. "Just like a barn."
"That's really what it is."
And if there was a shortage of food in France, the yacht never wanted for the most delectable livestock. Here, in this chamber, were the lovers of the animal kingdom. The first couple we approached was a woman and a horse. She was fondling his length of scarlet penis, covering it with kisses, licking it; the horse whinnied delightedly. After a moment, the woman leaped up and threw her arms around the body of the horse, her legs out toward his rump.
"Help me, someone," she called.
I went over to her. "You'll never get it in," I said.
"I have before," she sighed feverishly. "Go on."
Carla came over then and took hold of the horse's rod and aimed it at the woman's hole. The woman squirmed and shimmied and, at last, with Carla's help, horse and woman made contact-in a limited way, of course. While the woman thrust herself about, Carla manipulated the rest of the stallion's shaft, and suddenly there was a burst of liquid spraying from the woman. The horse kicked ecstatically, and his mate groaned.
Carla and I continued on to other amorists.
One elderly man knelt behind a sheep, holding his penis in his hand, about to penetrate the animal's love-passage. Another man had covered his body with a coating of honey and lay on the floor while three boxers licked him. Nearby, a woman sat with a cat between her legs, and the animal lapped at her intensely. Further on, a young man submitted himself to the overtures of a calf; he was under the animal, pushing backwards, attempting to make a connection between the calf's penis and his own behind. Once again Carla came to love's aid. She directed the instrument to its home, and when contact had been made, she dropped to the floor and pushed her face into the man's groin, taking his tool in her mouth. The three of them maneuvered and labored, and I myself joined the party by dropping myself down and putting my lips to Carla's moist, sore loins.
Afterwards we went to the chicken-room, entering just in time to see someone perform the rites of love.
A man was there taking a beautiful squawking white hen from a large coop at one side of the room. He brought the hen to a chest of drawers not-far from where we stood. Then, with most experienced gestures, he thrust the hen's head into the drawer and shut the drawer upon her neck so that the animal was held in place. The chicken screamed and fluttered its wings. Unperturbed, the lover drew up behind her and broke his penis through the feathers and' flesh of the hen's canal. The animal screamed and shook in agony, and the man pumped at her passionately and fondled her feathers. At the man's climax, he thrust forward powerfully and the drawer snapped closed, decapitating the hen. The walls, the man's body, everything was covered with blood, and the headless chicken dropped to the ground, limped blindly round the floor an instant and fell dead at our feet.
"Like to try one?" the man asked me.
"No, thanks. I don't go very much for chickens."
"Eyfclyone to his taste. Personally, I'd rather fuck them than eat them."
And he went back to the coop to choose another mate for himself.
"Let's go," said Carla. "I think I've had enough of animals for tonight."
We continued on our excursion, but the next room was one to which Carla was not admitted: it was a room for men only.
"Oh, I'd like to see that." she said.
"I'm sorry, but you can't. You could never pass as a man."
"I feel cheated."
"Well, if you come around to the passageway on the side, there's a concealed window and you can see what it's like inside."
"That's better than nothing," she said.
We edged into the passageway and with the help of two chairs we could sec through the small window-airshaft at the top of the wall. The room was flooded with men in every conceivable posture. In one comer, constructed like an altar, a gigantic stone phallus stood, and its worshippers were everywhere. Daisy-chains extended all around the walls so that a perfect circle was formed: no bugger went unbuggered. The line swayed rhythmically, snake-like.
"Isn't it marvelous," said Carla, delighted.
Whenever a man broke the chain, another was recruited from the center of the room to complete it.
"The rumor is," I explained to Carla, "that the chain has never broken up in the three years since it has come into existence. It goes on night and day, a replacement coming for every man who leaves."
Within the circle of the chain, dozens of men swarmed upon the floor; it was an endless panorama of phalluses-phalluses lunging into mouths or anuses. One man in the center of the room seemed particularly resourceful. He was on all fours and was surrounded by others: he held a penis in each of his hands; one in his mouth; one in his behind; and at the same time his own instrument occupied the rectum of the man beneath-him.
"How I envy him," cried Carla.
"Why?"
"Well, I'd so much love to fuck and be fucked at the same time. But how impossible it is."
"You have certain consolations for this failure."
"Such as?"
'You can be fucked by two men at exactly the same time. And that is something no man can brag of."
"You think not?" she asked, pointing to the man in the center of the room who was now sandwiched between two others and both his lovers were digging their members into exactly the same receptacle at exactly the same time.
Disheartened, Carla climbed down from her chair and we continued on our journey.
The next room was one to which I could not be admitted, for here women made love among themselves.
"Good," said Carla. "That's for me."
She thrust open the door, there was a sudden rush of thick flesh, and a sharp delicious smell of female entered my nostrils. Then the door slammed shut. I went round the side to the ventilating window but three or four men were already crowded around it.
"Say, look at that beauty who just came in," one man said.
"She's the hottest one in the room," said another.
"Stop pushing," said a third. "I can't see."
Their eyes and penises bulged heatedly.
"What a cunt on her," said one and began thumping his member with excitement.
"Christ, this it too much for me."
"Me too. Let's get ourselves some live meat."
All the men-save the masturbating one-climbed down from their chairs and went off. Taking advantage of the vacancy, I jumped up and looked through the window. Truly, it was a paradise of women: fat ones and thin ones, short ones and tall ones, enormous-breasted ones and flat-chested ones, white ones and pink ones and black ones and-every color and variety: from Carla the sublime to a hideous-faced bony woman who raced around the room fondling breasts and buttocks, diving her face into dripping impassioned loins.
"Oh oh oh," moaned the man beside me, continuing to thump.
Carla was being treated like a goddess. A group of worshippers led her across the room to an onyx bathtub. Powders and perfumes of such strong scent were poured into the water that the aroma drifted to my nose. Two women lifted Carla and laid her gently into the mass of bubbles in the tub.
"I will bathe her," a woman shrieked.
"No, I."
"No, I."
"No, I."
And a battle seemed inevitable. A dozen female faces turned red with jealousy and rage, and soon they were at each other: arm and legs flailed, white teeth bit into fair flesh, long hair went flying, cunts were shredded by outraged fingernails, white breasts were colored with flecks of blood.
"Stop this at once!" a voice commanded, and the women broke apart.
A tall, beautifully built woman approached them; her bearing was military; her large breasts stood out grandly before her.
"I will bathe her," she said, and there was no more argument.
This amazon-like creature knelt beside the bathtub and covered Carla's face with kisses. Then she climbed into the tub and with infinite tenderness began to wash every part of Carla's body. The amazon's foamy hands stroked Carla's bruised shoulders, then lovingly massaged the breasts, pulling at the nipples gently. Suddenly her hands disappeared beneath the water and the other women moaned at the thought of the treasure their leader was exploring. Carla leaned her head back, a smile on her lips, and she gave herself up to the amazon's manipulations.
The man beside me was groaning heavily and I looked at him in time to see, a tremendous jet of cream spurt from his tool to the wall; he throbbed with his orgasm. When the wall was coated with his juice, he said:
"That's the twelfth time I've done it in two days."
"Really?"
"Yes. Eight times yesterday. Four times today: so far, that is."
"Masturbating."
"Yes."
"Why do you do it?" He shivered. "Because I love to." And he was once again pulling on his penis, bringing it to its full length.
When I turned back to the lesbian chamber I saw that Carla was now washing her bath-companion. Another woman approached the tub carrying a thick Turkish towel and Carla stepped out of the tub to be enfolded in the towel and the woman's arms. Each part of her body was patted in turn and when she stood naked her skin glowed.
A comb was brought by a plump old lady who proceeded to comb Carla's gorgeous hair until it hung soft and loose to her shoulders. Then the old woman knelt and combed the hair of Carla's loins, edging the comb between her thighs where her fingers took over.
After this, a pot of oil was brought and Carla's body was coated magically golden. Her beauty was unearthly. All activity had ceased in the room, and she was surrounded by admirers. A thousand loving hands reached out to touch her; lips were pressed to her oily flesh. At this point, the amazon, who had disappeared for several moments, returned, and strapped to her loins was a black rubber dildo whose proportions would have put any man to shame. At that instant, I actually feared for Carla's safety-although, in truth, she seemed singularly unperturbed by it.
She was lain to the floor and at once two women came to her. The first sat squarely on her face, thrusting her purple love-lips to Carla's mouth; the second squirmed into Carla's thighs and did to Carla what Carla did to the other. A dozen more women surrounded her, their tongues flickering across her body.
Carla was let alone. Two girls appeared and each took hold of one of Carla's round buttocks. They lifted her until her crack was wide and tantalizing with oils and her own juices. Her knees bent back; the amazon closed in and drove rhe dildo deep into Carla's body.
The lovers writhed ecstatically. Women crawled under them and over them fondling and licking any unoccupied space.
Carla trembled as the black mass dug in and out of her, I could hear her sobs of joy. Beside me, the masturbating man was rapidly approaching his thirteenth climax. Everyone seemed on the verge of madness. The chamber of women literally throbbed with orgasmic excitement; piles of female flesh rose as the lesbians heaped upon each other. My own passion came to such a pitch that I thought I must imitate my companion or die. I pulled at myself wildly and my chair shook; screams rose from everywhere; my heated rod was at bursting point. And then, at that moment, there was a universal climax. Carla screamed with her orgasm; the others joined with her; and simultaneously I and the man beside me unloaded a torrent upon the wall.
When I had recovered, I saw Carla lying impotent upon the floor of the room. The dildo was now being strapped to her loins, and obviously she was going to repay the amazon for the latter's kindness. What I saw this time was that the dildo was a double-edged weapon; that is, that a phallus was plunged. into Carla so that the larger one could stay in place. The rites were repeated, with everyone but myself participating as before. Even the man beside me, though with some difficulty, was working himself toward another repetition.
Soon afterwards, Carla emerged.
"Did you see?" she asked me.
"I certainly did."
"I was treated like a queen."
"And a king."
"That is a room I will often go to." She looked round suddenly and saw the masturbating man.
"What's he doing?" she asked me.
"I think it's quite obvious."
She approached him thoughtfully.
"Why don't you find yourself a partner?" she asked.
"I don't want one."
"Why not?"
"Because I like to jerk off."
She looked at his penis a while and said: "Let me touch it."
"No." He turned away from her.
"Please. It's a beautiful one. Wouldn't you like me to suck it a little?"
"No."
Reaching forward abruptly, she tried to grab hold of his enflamed member.
"Let him alone," I said to her.
"But I want him," she said passionately.
"Here, you can play with mine," I suggested.
"I'll play with yours later. Right now, I want to play with his."
"No, you can't," he told her firmly.
Enraged by her frustration, she screamed at the man and I had to drag her away.
"Calm down," I said. "There are still many rooms to be seen."
"I don't want to see anything else," she pouted. "Don't be such a child. Simply because a man refuses to let-"
"He's the first person who ever said no to me."
"Well, you can't expect to have a raving success with everyone. Come along now."
"No, I want to go home."
"You're ridiculous."
"I must go home. I'm probably late already."
"All right. I'll take you back to your car."
We returned along the way we had come, following the passageways and going up and down various decks, and at last we emerged once more in the grand ballroom. There were still a few people dancing but they were now dancing to phonograph records since the men in the band had come down to find themselves women. What went on here, at this point, was one huge melange of all that had been going on in the other rooms.
"One dance," I said to Carla.
"No, it's really too late."
"You promised."
"Honestly-"
"You did say you would."
"Well, all right. Just one."
And so we came together and moved across the floor. Her body was still oiled and my penis slid across her belly. Dropping my hands from her back to her buttocks, I squeezed her tight against me and felt her slippery flesh rub against mine. My fingers edged in between her buttocks and skidded with oily ease into her anus. Leaping up, she wound her legs behind me. Her hand found my penis and she forced it down, shoving it between the thick greased hills: it rode easily into her. Our mouths met, tongues sucking together, and she writhed and squirmed, urging the pressure of her body upon our connection, making it tight and maddeningly exciting. I ground my hips, pounding against her, faster, ever faster, and her teeth bit hard on my lips. The succulent greased sound of our thumping loins excluded the phonograph music. Holding her tight, we banged together wildly and brought each other to our pleasure.
Afterwards I refused to release her and in this position we went to the cloakroom to get our things. By the time we got there, our movements had again excited us and we started grinding away once more. The young man who attended in the cloakroom came out from behind the rack and approached us; he stood back of Carla, edged forward and drove his penis into her oily behind. The three of us danced round the room in a frenzy, and I and the attendant bucked away at Carla from both ends, pounded her breathless, and would not release her until, front and back, she dripped our liquid.
We dressed hurriedly, took the boat back to the shore, and I drove her back to our place of meeting where she climbed into her own car and rode off.
There was no need to make an appointment, of course. We knew where we might find each other in all the consecutive nights. And, indeed, until the war ended, I doubt that Carla ever missed one evening on that yacht. Needless to say, there were times I wouldn't see her for weeks on end. Not having her endurance, I'd have to take a month's vacation from the yacht now and again. And sometimes Carla would be occupied with others. But, generally speaking, we were as much lovers as any people are who live that kind of life.
And we continued in exactly that way until the war ended. All the members of the yacht knew that our club would be closed down, and we had a terrific party the last night. Twenty virgin girls and twenty virgin boys were introduced to, love in, as you may imagine, the best of all possible" ways. Chickens galore were slaughtered-and also eaten. The daisy-chain, hitherto unbroken, was joined by every man on the boat before its long and arduous career came to an end. And most delicious of all for Carla, the man who had stood masturbating outside the lesbian chamber allowed her not only to '.touch his penis but to thump him to an orgasm.
So our party ended. And Carla went back to wherever she had come from. I confess I was not sorry to see her go. Soon afterwards, I took a vow of the good life and married the young woman you met this evening. Our marriage has been one of extreme happiness-interrupted only when tales of my former life come to Louise's ears.
Bonnet, having finished his story, drained our third bottle of champagne.
"Good heavens, I'm tired," he said.
"There was quite a bit to say." I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes after two. "I really must be going."
"I'll drop you off."
"Are you going home?" I asked.
"No, of course not. How can I? And I am beastly tired."
I was silent with embarrassment. No, I decided, I wouldn't deceive this very nice man. I'll go straight home to bed.
"Listen," he said to me. "If you're thinking that perhaps after all you won't go and have some fun with my wife-"
"But how do you know about that?" I cried, incredulous.
"I've lived with the woman seven years. Now, look here, you'll be doing me a favor by going over to her. If you don't she'll find herself someone else. And I'd frankly much prefer she took you on."
"That's very kind of you-"
"Nonsense. One has got to come to terms with the world, hasn't one."
"I suppose so."
"Well, come along. I'll drop you at the house."
We drove back to Cannes in silence. I was thinking how strange it was that Carla's attempt at revenge had backfired. The more I learned of her life after we separated, the more distant she seemed. That evening I was more concerned with Louise Bonnet than with the memory of Carla.
When we were not far from his home, Bonnet said: "If you will be a good fellow, won't you?" he asked.
"What would you like?"
"First of all, will you not forget to use these?" And from his pocket he took a package of rubber contraceptives. "There are a dozen of them."
"It's not likely I'll need all."
"One never knows," he laughed. "In any case, you must promise to use them. As much as I am fond of you, I should really dislike having to be the father of your child."
"I understand," I agreed. "I'll use them."
"Secondly," he continued. "I'm dead tired, so try not to stay on forever. And last of all: don't forget about lunch tomorrow."
"Indeed I won't."
He stopped a few yards before his house. "Here you are." We shook hands. "Goodnight," I said. "Goodnight. And have fun."
He drove away, and I went down the street to his home. The wall-doors were open and I walked through into the front-garden. 'Since she wasn't there, I followed the side-path around to the back of the house. The garden here was even more splendid by moonlight than it had been at sundown. I looked around but could not see her. All the lights were off in the house, and I thought that perhaps she had decided I wasn't coming and had gone to bed.
I wandered round the garden, picked a sprig of mimosa from a tree, and considered returning to my hotel.
"Are you looking for someone, Mr. Cunningham?" I heard her voice from behind a cluster of trees at what I had thought was the end of the garden. I walked toward the trees and found that the garden continued for some way. There, in the midst of the trees, flooded with moonlight, was Louise Bonnet. She was not, as I had imagined in my reverie earlier in the evening, naked. In fact, she wore the dress she had worn before, and it was even buttoned a bit higher. She looked ravishing in the moonlight.
"Yes," I said. "I was looking for you."
"For me?" She seemed incredulous. "For me? Why, what an extraordinary hour to come calling. It's a good thing my husband's out or-"
"What are you talking about?" I said, breathlessly. "I got your telephone message at my hotel and-"
"Telephone message. I left no telephone message for you."
There was something so utterly frozen in her voice that I felt momentarily convinced a trick had been played on me.
"Obviously, there's some mistake," I said. "Obviously."
"Then I'll say goodnight."
"Good morning would be more accurate."
"Goodnight then, and good morning."
I turned round to leave, but stopped myself, and turned back to her. Moving rapidly, I crossed the ground between, grabbed her into my arms and forced my lips against hers. She tried to push me away, and at first I resisted her efforts, but at last gave way.
"You're a maniac," she said, but by this time I knew that this was all part of a game: that Louise Bonnet was playing this thing out with the hope I would rape her.
"Come here," I shouted, and pulled her toward me, thrusting our mouths together again. My tongue groped between her lips, forcing her teeth apart; all the time she fought and scratched; I would not relinquish my hold.
When I released her I held the neck of her dress in my hands and I pulled in either direction so that all the tiny hundred buttons burst along the length of her dress and bounced to the ground. Beneath, she was naked. I tore the garment from her body and stepped back to look at her. She covered herself with her arms, trying to hide her nakedness: but little was hidden. The two wads of breast glared out at me, their teats stiff and purple in the moonlight. Taking her arm, I threw her to the ground.
"Don't move," I said, "or I'll kill you."
She lay quietly, in mock terror as I stripped myself and when I had flung myself upon her she once more pretended to be fighting me off. When I reached between her thighs, she squirmed so intensely I could not take hold of her; but my hand felt the dripping moisture of her passion. I forced her thighs back and she turned and jumped, and when I aimed my penis at her hole, she moved violently to prevent the entry. I drove forward and missed because she turned; I drove again and the tip of my member penetrated but was thrust away when she made one rapid jerk. I tried once more and this time sank deep into her flesh. She continued to wriggle and shake, but now her legs kept me bound to her.
Afterward, when we had broken apart, she pretended to be outraged.
"How dare you do a thing like that!" she cried. "I'm desperate," I said.
"You certainly are. You know I can call the police and have you arrested at once."
"I'd kill you if you did."
"I believe you would. You're a filthy brute." She drew herself to her feet. "Where do you think you're going?" I asked. "Into my house."
"No, you're not. I'm not done with you yet."
"You monster," she shrieked as I pulled her to the ground once again.
"Shut up. I don't want any noise out of you."
Needless to say, this whole game brought me close to laughter and yet in some perverse way I enjoyed it as much as she. I raped her twice more that evening, and then went back to my hotel. I slept until eleven, went down to the beach for a swim, and then walked over to the Bonnet house for lunch.
It was a pleasant lunch with several other people present. Bonnet was charming and disappeared as soon as the meal was over. I was rather amused with the difficulty Louise had in getting rid of the other guests. Finally, everyone had gone but the two of us. And she addressed her first words of the afternoon to me:
"I haven't said anything to my husband about last night. And I suggest you leave now and never come back to this house."
"Not just yet," I said.
"I hope you aren't expecting a repetition of last night's outrage."
"Exactly."
And, rising from my chair, I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the cluster of trees when. I violated the poor woman a considerable number of times.
I took the evening plane back to Paris, musing all the trip away with my memories of Cannes. Strangely enough, it was not until we landed in Orly that I reached into my pocket and found the full, unused package of contraceptives that Bonnet had given me the night before.