Chapter 9

Exactly one hour after her little "talk" with Jane, Madeleine summoned Alexander to her room, for an audience. She was, she conceded, a bit like the Pope -- her running of this establishment entitled her to a certain deference. Madeleine snorted disgustedly. There was certainly nothing that weakling Frederick could do around here any more. In fact, she was damned if she would concede the slightest thing to him. They had not slept together for years -- Alexander had become her staff of life in that department. Madeleine smiled. "Staff of Life" was it, all right. There was no doubt about that. God, but what a stud that boy was! Lightly, her thoughts turned back to Frederick. That booze-hound. He hadn't done a thing around the club for half a dozen years. And that did not include drinking his head off. And now, to top it all off, there was this Jane Morrow, her "old school chum," panting and fawning around Alexander like the bored, frustrated housewife she was. It had been only for amusement that Madeleine had invited her here in the first place, to get away from that bullying husband of hers. It would be, Madeleine had thought, a welcome relief from the constant round of rich tourists. She smiled suddenly. Now that Alexander was escorting her around, the problem was how to pry her loose from him. The silly goose had obviously fallen in love with him, black as he was.

Slowly, and with a native lack of charity, Madeleine considered the various ways that Jane had made a fool of herself in the past few days. The ways were legion. And now this last this business of falling in love with Alexander and wanting to extend her vacation to be with him.

What a show!

Angrily, Madeleine threw her hairbrush onto her vanity table, and tossed her dark, tightly packed hair on her head, seeing it fly back into place automatically. That, at least, she had done -- she had trained her hair so that it would stay in place with almost no combing.

She drew herself up, and looked at her slender form in the mirror. There was still quite a bit of woman there, she thought to herself with satisfaction. Certainly too much woman for that fool Frederick. He drank so much, he probably wasn't any good in bed any more anyway.

With that thought running through her brain, Madeleine regarded the breasts which peeked through the filmy negligee she wore, her eyes hard, speculative. Yes, she thought to herself, she could match herself against Jane, or any woman, for that matter.

Then came a sly, mocking voice from the back of her mind: Why do you feel the need for Alexander, a black man, if you can capture any white man you please?

A slow, fuming hatred for Alexander began deep within her, rising to the surface slowly, and cascading over her mind like scalding water. She thought of his strength, his slightly mocking expression which he wore like a Halloween mask, his cool, offhand manner with the guests. His blackness.

She despised Alexander, with a force that was steady and implacable.

The thing she despised most about him, she knew, was her own need of him -- and what only he could do for her.

Madeleine picked up the brush, and began to run it through her hair, combing it back with quick, angry tugs, her face sullen, expectant.

And all at once, as though on cue, Alexander came through the door of her bedroom.

"You rang, miss?" he said, his voice loaded with sarcasm. Madeleine looked at him in the mirror, her back to him, her eyebrows raised.

"You aren't the butler, Alexander," she said softly.

"I know," he replied, "I do quite a bit more than that for you."

Madeleine looked at him for a long moment, then continued to brush her hair.

"Do you think that's why I've sent for you?" she asked softly, her expression deceptively pleasant, accommodating.

"Why else?" Alexander drawled, his face filled with the feigned boredom of one who is denied dignity, and knows it.

"You've been seeing quite a bit of little Jane, haven't you?" she purred, her eyes on the broad, square frame which seemed to hover in the mirror before her.

"That's my job -- what you pay me so lavishly for," Alexander replied.

"I don't pay you to fall in love with her."

Alexander's shoulders straightened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the woman before him. He had never hated her more than at this moment.

"No, you just pay me to make love to your bored, rich friends -- and to you, when that lush of a husband can't cut the mustard any more."

The hair brush clattered onto the vanity, and Madeleine's face reddened.

"SHUT... YOUR... MOUTH," she said, loudly and evenly, so that she could not be misunderstood.

Alexander cocked his head backward involuntarily, looking at Madeleine with a stiff, frozen expression of dread on his face. This woman was a witch -- there was no doubt of it. He remained silent.

"That's better," Madeleine breathed, her attention going back to her hair. She brushed it carefully, evenly, and spoke to him as she did it, emphasizing each complete thought with a quick, vicious little twist of the brush.

"I want you to have nothing to do with her. Do you understand me? I do not want her encouraged any further."

Alexander pursed his lips, his features seeming to draw together as he watched Madeleine brush her hair.

"Am I to ignore her, then?" he asked softly. Madeleine shook her head.

"Of course not. Just don't... well, don't encourage her, that's all."

"And how am I not to do that?" he asked.

Madeleine shook her head, and continued to stare at him in the mirror.

"I don't care how you do it. Come on, Alexander, you're no amateur at this game -- you know how to turn a woman on and then turn her off again. I've certainly seen you do it enough times, God knows."

"Thank you very much."

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Alexander. If it weren't for me, you'd still be loading freight at the docks."

"As you never tire of reminding me."

Madeleine smiled sweetly.

"Just to keep you in line, my love. Just to keep you in line."

Alexander "stirred, restless in the presence of this woman, eager to be gone.

"Will that be all?"

"Will you do as I said?"

Alexander considered his position for a moment. This woman, no matter how clever, could not keep track of his affair with Jane Morrow. There weren't that many hours in the day. And, now that he was on his guard, he would be careful to conceal Jane's feeling from Madeleine. It would be tricky, but he could do it. Inwardly, Alexander smiled. Madeleine, without knowing it, had committed a grave strategic blunder by telling him of her jealousy this way. She was vicious, but she was not very smart, really. That, Alexander knew, was his only real advantage in this game -- be could outwit her any time he wished. And suddenly it had become very important to him that he win. This Jane Morrow was not like the others. She had a kind of quiet dignity about her that the loud, coarse, rich women who usually frequented Madeleine's club lacked completely. She was, though Alexander was a bit ill-at-ease with the term, a lady.

"Yes. I'll do as you said," Alexander replied to this woman before him, whom he considered less than dirt.

Madeleine smiled.

"That's better. That's much better. Now, when I've finished combing my hair, we'll have a drink."

Inwardly, Alexander shuddered. He knew what "a drink" meant, all right. He had been around Madeleine for a long time now, and fed her appetites in an obliging sort of way. Abruptly, Alexander found that he did not want to play the game any more -- not with this spoiled, vicious white woman, who had been his "boss lady" four years now, since he was seventeen years old.

"Thanks anyway," he Said, moving toward the door. "I'll pass it up."

"No you won't," came the reply, soft as the idle rattle of a snake's warning.

Alexander stood still for a moment, looking at the woman who faced the mirror. Slowly, Madeleine got up, and turned around, facing Alexander.

"My hair is finished," she announced, loosing the fastenings of the negligee slowly, with delicate movements of her long, red-nailed fingers. "Now muss it up for me, Alexander."

The filmy negligee, soft as down, dropped to the floor, and Madeleine stood before Alexander, naked. He watched her, fascinated, as she moved across the length of the bedroom, her hips swinging lithely, her legs powerful.

She was, Alexander had to admit, an attractive woman. Her body, though small, was compactly built, her breasts wide and large, her hips and legs full, without being chunky. Her waist was narrow, her buttocks small and athletic. Her close-cropped dark hair outlined her oval face, making the features stand out, with firm chin and full lips, her eyes seeming to glow, rich and brown and full of cunning.

As she advanced, Alexander inhaled deeply, trying to hide his already well-advanced arousal. They had both committed themselves in an odd, covert way -- he with his very presence here, and she with her provocative actions.

Aggressively, demandingly, Madeleine joined with Alexander, her mouth seeking his, her body pressing against his. At once, her fingers were busy, seeking him out, and drawing off first his shirt, and then his loose-fitting trousers. Alexander gasped slightly as the long, cool fingers of Madeleine's right hand closed on the hard flesh of his manhood. The nails were sharp, and bit into the immensity of the stirring erection painfully, so that he winced.

"You going... to rape me?" Alexander gasped, his eyes only half amused by Madeleine's stroking of his member. The sharp nails made long lines in his flesh, drawing him to full arousal quickly, painfully.

"Not a bad idea," Madeleine purred, stripping him of his last vestiges of clothing.

His passion rising, Alexander felt the old, familiar woman-hunger mount up, from the base of his belly, stirring his loins powerfully. He gripped Madeleine with real ferocity, his mouth as hungry, as seeking, as hers. He drew her to the wide, soft bed which had become so familiar to them both, tossing her onto it carelessly, as though she were a feather. Ranging over her, Alexander reached out to grasp a handful of her hair.

And then, like a tawny, female wrestler, Madeleine slipped from his grasp, sliding from beneath him and pushing at his arms and legs powerfully.

"On your back," she rasped, her pupils dilated, her hair in her face, like a wire brush over her eyebrows.

Alexander groaned loudly, rolling onto his back slowly. He sighed. She wanted it this way again. He gritted his teeth, looking up at the smiling Madeleine. There was something about this manner of lovemaking that grated on his nerves, and well she knew ft. He could see it in her eyes as she assumed the dominant position, her face flushed, her features creased with passion.

"You won't have it any other way, will you?" he rasped, his voice heavy with lust.

"No," Madeleine replied succinctly, straddling him and gripping his loins with her smooth, muscular thighs.

Alexander waited for a moment, until she was suspended above him, her thighs parted, warm and wet. Madeleine shut her eyes.

"Oh, go ahead," she pleaded, "put it right through me!"

Alexander obliged. At the exact moment of her greatest need, he drove himself upward, brutally, with a blow that would have split a plank. Their loins smashed together, and Madeleine emitted a long, shrill cry at the pain of his sudden entry.

Alexander heard the thin, piercing wail, and smiled. He had hurt her -- he could, at least, have that satisfaction.

At the exact moment that Alexander was enjoying his slender triumph over Madeleine, Jane was walking quietly down the carpeted hallway, her eyes downcast. As she neared Madeleine's room, the solid determination to talk to her hostess welled up in her. She would explain what had happened between her and Alexander, and try to make Madeleine understand. It was not a cheap affair between a bored tourist and an islander. She would make Madeleine see that, if it killed her. The conversation this morning between them had been unbearably nasty, and she would do what she could to mend a few fences.

Putting her hand on the door knob, Jane turned it slowly, and opened the door wide, preparing herself for the job of convincing Madeleine of her good intentions.

The sight which met her eyes caused her to close the door quickly, her eyes bugging out, her breath choking in her throat. She opened the door a bit, peeking through the narrow space carefully, unable to believe what she was witnessing.

On the bed, Madeleine was astride Alexander, resting atop him as though to balance on the union of their loins. His legs joined, Alexander was driving upward, moving his huge, wet trunk of an erection into Madeleine. He gave short gasps with each upward movement, his face contorted with urgency.

Madeleine, her thighs streaming with the hot, wet evidence of her passion, was bobbing atop Alexander like a tiny boat on a rough ocean. Her head flew from side to side, her arms making tiny, helpless gestures as she rose over him like a lithe, prehensile animal. Her sobbing was loud in the room, her babbled words incoherent as she rose upward, then downward, borne in the air by the long, muscular, coiled spring of a body which was Alexander. With a long, rocking motion, he rose upward, bearing her with him, then bringing her down sharply, cruelly, and piercing her to the quick as their sopping loins met with a loud SMACK.

"OHHHHHHHHH... OHHHHHH... OH NO, NO... OH... AAAAAAAH... ! YOU'RE... KILLING... ME...!"

Madeleine's voice was rough, demanding, and Jane was gripped with nausea as she watched the thick, steaming union of their loins, the visible evidence of their passion, unfold itself on the bed, joining and re-joining incessantly.

Jane's hand gripped the doorknob, the knuckles whitening, as she watched the scene unfold itself before her eyes.

Madeleine's full breasts shook wildly, her buttocks quivering, as she descended once more onto the hard, rifling manhood which possessed her very being. Her eyes were wild, delirious, as a thin film of shiny perspiration covered her lithe, finely muscled body. Now, tiny sobs of agony were escaping her swollen lips, as Alexander's movements became more urgent, his demands more savage and incessant. It was as though they were both mountain climbers, laboring to the summit after a long, hard climb.

With a great shout, Alexander pulled himself into her fiercely, spending hard, driving his seed deep into her loins. At the same time, Madeleine shrieked loudly, and began to buck furiously upon him, like a wild, frantic mare.

After a moment, spent, both Madeleine and Alexander collapsed onto the bed, lying motionless, as though dead.

Physically sick, Jane shut the door to Madeleine's bedroom carefully, finding her way somehow down the hallway to her room.

As she walked, her mind was a whirlwind of feeling, of thought, of impulse. Hatred for Madeleine, distrust and contempt for Alexander, pity for Frederick, the cuckolded husband. And most of all, a searing, burning disappointment in Alexander.

Jane went into her room, slamming the door behind her so that it made a BANG down the silent, carpeted hallway.