Chapter 14

Black-Market Scavengers

My present lovers, being in the army, were not available all the time. In fact, they were only free at night, as their mornings and afternoons were taken up with their duties.

This suited me perfectly, as it left me all day to do what I pleased.

It was February, 1943. The sun was already getting to be warm, and I felt like going for a walk. So I went to the Concorde, then strolled up the Champs Elysees. Dressed in a well-cut black suit, an expensive fur thrown over my shoulders, I sauntered along, clicking my heels on the hard bituminous surface of that famous thoroughfare. I intended to go and have a drink at the Lido. As I walked along, nonchalantly swinging my hips, I day-dreamed of how far I had gone in the last year. My sizable bank account, my jewels, my furs, my numerous luxurious dresses, in fact all that made up my present well-being flashed through my brain. It may be a good thing to think while you are walking, but it is even better to stop doing so when you cross the road.

However, coming to the corner of the Avenue Victor Emmanuel III, I stepped onto the road, lost in thought. With the result that there was a shriek of brakes and an angry voice cried out:

"Why can't you be more careful, you silly little fool?"

I stopped in my tracks, barely an inch from the bumper, taking in the fact that it was due to providence that I was not now under the car. The voice went on:

"Are you going or coming, you silly ass?"

He was going too strong for my liking, so, without budging an inch, I flung back at him:

"Can't you be a little more polite, you ill-behaved road-hog!"

As you can see, in two years, the little Flemish girl had now got a good working knowledge of the French language.

While we exchanged these mutual compliments, we looked intently at one another. I got a good view of him, and he an even better one of me. With the result that he got out of his car, and now smiling attractively at me, he said:

"I beg your pardon, my dear lady, I was a little rude. But you must admit that if I had not stopped dead, you would have been even deader."

"I agree I was in the wrong, but I do find your language a trifle overdone!"

"Let's say we were both to blame, and I beg your pardon. In order to make it up to you, let me offer you a drink."

Still laughing, he got hold of my arm and started pulling me towards his car.

He certainly was not lacking in cheek!

I was going to protest when a copper chimed in:

"What goes on here? Do you think I am going to let you park at the corner of this avenue for long? Don't you know it's forbidden? Get going, otherwise you'll get a fine!"

My companion took this opportunity to shove me without further ado into his car, slam the door, start up, and off we went.

We left behind us the figure of the portly policeman, shrugging his shoulders and waving his baton in all directions.

Racing up the avenue, he burst out in loud laughter saying:

"As you can see, my beautiful lady, you have caused me a lot of bother. You nearly threw yourself under my car, and then to crown it all you almost got me a fine. You will have to try and make me forgive you for it!"

"What do you mean? How dare you?"

"I do, and I repeat: you will have to make up for it. That is to say to begin with you are going to come along nicely and have a drink with me; after that ... we shall see!"

"I don't know that I have anything to be forgiven for, but what I do know is that you are incredibly cheeky!"

"I couldn't agree with you more my dear. It is, as a matter of fact, one of my principle qualities, and believe me it is very useful in life."

"To force women to get into your car?"

"Me, force you to get in? Not at all. The proof of it is that you climbed in willingly. There was a policeman near us, and you only had to say a word to get me arrested by this dignified representative of law and order, if you had wanted to."

What could I do with a specimen like that? Laugh. That is exactly what I did. Naturally, he took immediate advantage of this to put his hand on my knee, which he fondled artistically. Then I felt that he was going to work up higher along my thighs, without any warning.

"Really, you nearly ran me over a while ago; it is quite unnecessary to start again. Two hands are not too many to drive with, especially in your case."

"That is where you are mistaken. One is quite enough; the other one can be otherwise employed. I am used to it."

"I don't doubt it for a moment, but right now leave my legs alone. Or else I will get out!"

"You wouldn't do that to a well brought-up fellow like me, so kind and gentle, so ... "

Suddenly his lips stuck to mine. There was only one of two things to be done: either I gave him a resounding smack or I returned his kiss. I chose the better solution, as he was beginning to amuse me. He had the presence of mind to slow down, and, moreover, in 1943 there were not many cars on the road. It was just as well, because his kiss went on endlessly. It went on so long that my tongue also began searching his mouth and I felt a sudden heat come over my whole body.

I sighed when he let me go at last. He again laughed, uncovering his splendid ivory-white teeth, and getting more and more cynical.

"Not bad going for a man still driving with the other hand, don't you think?"

"I'll agree with you there! But you have a colossal amount of cheek; you must have had more than your share when you were born."

"Too true. But that is not all; I am also full of other attractive qualities. For instance, I am gallant, kind, thoughtful and amorous ... "

"Is that the lot?"

"Not at all! I am especially well-intentioned towards lovely women like you."

"You certainly seem to be in love with yourself!"

"I adore myself, and you above all!"

With that he got hold of my waist, let his hand creep up to my breast, then gently pinched its nipple.

This time, he nearly lost control of his car, but managed to straighten out in time, enabling me to get loose from his grip.

"Please, I beg you, stop! You are going to kill us! Let's go and have a drink if you like, but I have no intention of committing suicide, even if you have."

Filled with self-confidence, he let me go and with an air of assurance went on. "You are right, we had better stop; we can make closer contact later."

He stopped. Here was a man who knew where he was going!

He had just missed killing me at three o'clock that afternoon, and at six I was in bed with him in his flat near the Etoile.

We had hardly sat down to have our drink at the cafe, when he at once told me without beating about the bush, that he had no doubt I should soon be fucked by him. During this conversation he was pawing me conscientiously. He even managed to slide his hand under my dress, reaching my V spot, which he had knowingly fondled. All this without the waiter or several customers nearby noticing anything.

As always, I could not oppose such strong arguments.

Half an hour later he was undressing me, still laughing and messing about. Soon he was in his birthday suit, obviously highly satisfied with his body and in particular his whacking prick. At last I felt him in me, vigorously thrusting his monster in and out, threading it again and again in my cunt, but never moving in all the way. I fitted him like a glove. Soon my whole fucking ass was trembling and I caught the rhythm just right, pushing back against him each time his cock started to dig in. I was doing it so well that I could feel he was having trouble keeping his load back before I was ready. Somehow he managed it, and we both let rip together, moaning and shaking in perfect harmony.

Afterwards, lying by his side smoking the inevitable cigarette, I stretched languorously. My new lover, still enjoying himself, instinctively kneaded my hardened tits as he declared:

"Darling, you are a real wonder!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you make love just the way I like it; you are a walking encyclopedia of copulation!"

That night, alone in my bed, I asked myself why had I slept with the fellow? Partly because he had awakened my senses, but the main reason was that he amused me. He was gay and full of life, cynical without being boorish, amazingly cheeky, and his joy of living appealed to my youth.

All my German customers were always just so, but their refined politeness and their worldly gallantry only made me appreciate my light-hearted, attractive friend all the more. How long this would last, I had not the slightest idea. Come to think of it, what was his name? I had not even bothered to ask him. Next day I saw him and obtained the missing information:

"John L—, 36 years old, at your service. What's yours?"

"Monique P—, 19, all yours for the taking."

"I did not expect anything less from you. Thank you. Let's have a good fuck?"

"Why not!"

You can imagine that with a partner of his ability, time flew.

He made love like he did everything else, joking and laughing. He was not especially perverted. He gave and took his pleasure without many subtle refinements. But one of his chief qualifications was his well-built anatomy, more particularly the bit of it he stuck into me. I can assure you that when he fucked me I was well and truly ripped apart. He knew it, and naturally joked about it.

"Look how lucky you are to have such a wonder fitting in your hole! Seriously, though, have you ever seen anything to be compared with my majestic member?"

"You fool!"

"On the contrary, take a good look, and you must admit that I am a really splendid specimen of human nature."

Carefully examining the object of our discussion with my hand I had to agree he was right.

"Now that you have been able to get a good idea for yourself, I am going to prove to you that not only is it good looking but also very useful." This he would proceed to do, without further ado.

All this, I repeat, was very amusing without going any further. But Angela's advice now came back to me: "To get ahead you must get the maximum out of men."

It being so, should I consider him as an agreeable pastime, or try to make use of him?

He himself was to furnish the key to my problem.

After several meetings, he showed me his private hideout in which, to my amazement, was stored a small fortune in scarce commodities. Everything from coffee and sugar to cigarettes and whiskey.

Still laughing, he said:

"Hold out your arms."

Then he loaded me up with some of those rare items.

I bent under their weight.

"Enough, enough. I cannot carry all that!"

Condescendingly he helped me, while playfully patting my arse.

"Take as much as you can carry."

He did not have to say it twice. When my mother opened the door to me, she widened her eyes unbelievingly. She had not seen anything like it for years. My realistic side again gaining the upper hand, I made an inventory of what he had given me. If I had bought it in the black market, it would have cost me at least 25,000 francs.

He was getting to be interesting!

That is why our idyll went on. John was an intelligent black marketeer. Gaining confidence in me, he explained:

"You see, darling, now I have reached an understanding. I was called up in 1939, when I was sent on the Maginot Line. Then when the Panzer Divisions and the Messerschmidts fell down on our ill-equipped and demoralized army, I considered the war lost. All the same, I did what I was told, that is to say nothing. The net result was that I was taken prisoner. At the stalag I learned indirectly that our little pals back home in Paris were making piles of money, while we were rotting in the prison camps. So I also decided to make a packet. The first thing to do, was to get back home. So I made out I was sick, and in consequence, at the end of 1941, I got back.

"As soon as I was free, I started to deal in cigarettes, ersatz, of course."

"So that is what they are! You can keep your filthy fags!"

"Don't worry, the ones I gave you are real, same as the ones I smoke."

"That's better, thank you."

"That's all right. For the moment I don't want to poison you. So with what I made out of cigarettes, I was able to expand my trade and now I deal in all sorts of other things."

"Are you very rich?"

"Not at all, I have not a bean. But I live riotously for the moment; after the war we shall see what happens!"

My joyful lover jumped over the sofa, laid me down on it and, exhibiting his pride and joy, invited me to taste it, assuring me that this at least was no ersatz.

I gulped it down greedily, my hands cupping his balls.