Disclaimer: I know nothing of how the Trepanier’s conduct their lifestyle. What would I know? I’m just a dumb bunny pbbbbth!
Chapter 97: Trep III—The Masterpiece Part II
Journal Entry: 97: Volume III
November 6, 2---
Where shall I begin? In truth it is the pre-morning hours of the seventh but as I am recounting the events of the sixth, I will mark this entry as such. So it is the sixth! I don’t think I will bother with the events of earlier that day, as they are practically unimportant. I think I will start with the evening.
My wife had prepared a light dinner for our guests, one not too greasy or heavy and one quite pleasing to the eye. The wine was also light and sweet, and candles were set on the table. We had the table shortened to make it so much more intimate, perfect for a quiet dinner between two couples. I must admit that by the time the doorbell rung and my wife went to answer it, swishing her hips in that gorgeous silk outfit if hers, I was almost trembling all over with anticipation.
"Good evening!" she exclaimed. "So glad you could make it!"
I then heard Patrick’s warm, deep voice in reply and an overly syrupy one from dear Mimi. I smiled to myself, knowing how her eyes would be slitted as she smiled and spoke. She was an angry kitten to be sure, and it shook my insides with pleasure remembering the flash of slim thigh, the slit of skin in a loose blouse, the pale hairs kissing her cheek, all of the things a young, curious boy would notice on such a woman with such a reputation. It can be said that I have been waiting for this moment, forever.
Uncle Mario, used to slap the back of my head, yelling at me to stop looking at her. And when I would ask him about her, he would only curse her name in such vile language. He made me want her all the more...
And her eyes were narrowed as I thought they would be, slicing into the world above her smile. Head held high like a priestess or an empress, and she sniffed as she looked at the table. "Charming, how sweet."
If my eyes had been closed she would have sounded sincere. A consummate actress this woman, a gem.
"Thank you," my wife smiled. "I didn’t make anything too heavy, just something light, to tide us over."
Patrick seemed keener on the food than his wife, more then any of us really. We barely spoke, receiving polite replies from Patrick and sugary ones from Mimi. I can’t recall a word of what we spoke about, but I do know I made a point of not rubbing my victory into them, best not aggravate a lovely situation. Perhaps we talked of the children, the weather, or other such nonsense. Perhaps we talked of nothing at all.
When the food was more or less consumed, my wife began to clear the table and I noticed Mimi trailing her finger in her wineglass. A bored expression was on her face, which she was leaning in one hand; her elbow propped on the table. Swish, swish, her finger went into the wine. I was reminded of the way a cat’s tail moves as it sits on the carpet, a blank expression...
"What is this table made of?" she asked, looking at me.
"Oak," I replied.
"Sturdy?" she said. "It doesn’t seem to be."
I suddenly felt miffed that she would insult the furniture in such a petty fashion. Perhaps I even lost my smile....
"It is sturdy," my wife said.
"Is it really?" Mimi said with a yawn, "Patrick what do you think?" And she flicked a few drops of wine at him.
An almost inhuman glint pricked into the light in Patrick’s eyes, almost like a pinpoint of light at the center of them. I know it was the way he had moved his head, and the way the chandelier’s glow had caught them, but it was a familiar look, those ugly little sparks. "I don’t know," he said in a tone I’d never heard him use before.
And he struck so fast that I felt the sweat prickle all over my body, almost feeling terrified. As my wife picked up his plate he snatched her wrist in his hand, causing her to cry out in surprise or pain or both. Within the moment he had stood up and pressed her onto the cleared spot of the table, his mouth covering hers. My mouth dropped open as I watched in fascination. I had been planning on making the first overture, and he had struck like a snake.
The kiss lasted for a long time, and it was deep and I could hear them both gasp in a breath as he pulled back for a moment. "My God!" the love of my life gasped.
With a grunt he lifted the rest of her body off the floor and slid her further on the table. "It seems sturdy," he muttered and he kissed her again, his palms pressing down onto the table on either side of her.
"Mmm," my wife moaned and she ran her hands into his unkempt hair, and I saw her legs relaxing open, a thigh running up his waist.
"Don’t touch him!" I heard Mimi hiss and I saw her grab my wife’s hands from across the table and pull them together in her own, holding them down. I blinked, still frozen in fascination and a dart of pain cut through me when Mimi took a quick glance at me, and then pressed her slightly opened mouth against my wife’s wrists. A deep, surprised moan came out of my wife and she arched herself up a bit, unable to pull loose of Mimi’s grip. Small quick kisses, alternating with slow ones, and Mimi trailed her mouth up her arms, on her elbows and then a deeper one on her mouth.
Patrick contented himself with opening my wife’s blouse, kissing her bare flesh, sliding off her pants. What ecstasy she must be building up to from the way she was moaning. For me it was pure frustration! What sort of figure was I showing to them, just standing here, watching like a voyeuristic puppy as they immobilized and contented themselves with my wife?
And anger was filling me too! I was suddenly angry with my wife because already she tasted everything I had always wanted from Mrs. Roy. Enough was enough and I stormed around the table, the heat, and pounding blood throbbing within my head, almost blinding me until I reached my target. I wrapped my arm as tightly as I could around her tiny, warm waist and I pulled her back, holding her against my body, making sure she could feel all the heat and lust that I was capable of.
With her newfound freedom, my wife fumbled with the buttons to Patrick’s shirt as he began to open his pants, and as they did I could feel the pace of Mimi’s heart quicken, her muscles tighten. And when he began to roll on that crucial piece of protection so necessary in this day and age, I slid my hand down the slim tummy of my treasure and pressed it lightly between her legs. She gasped and pressed the back of her fragrant head against me, I could see a flash of her pink tongue. I closed my eyes, feeling as if I was thirteen again, not wanting to pass out.
The startled scream of my wife snapped my eyes open and Mimi laughed. "Oh God!" my wife gasped, over and over as Patrick had driven his body into her. "Oh God yes! Too big..."
Caught in this moment I nuzzled my face against the side of Mimi’s neck, inhaling the delicate scent she was wearing and then I flicked out my tongue, just to taste.
As soon as my tongue touched her skin, Mimi reacted. With a cry, she ripped out of my grip, turned around and gave me the full force of a slap on my face. I stood still, stunned, my cheek numb, and my face paralyzed. I felt dizzy from the sudden adrenaline rush and I didn’t follow her when she stalked out of the dining room. I looked quickly at the two on the table. Patrick was still moving but his eyes met mine, there was a wicked grin on his face and those sparks were still in his eyes. "I told you she was too much for you, my friend," he said cheerily.
Not wanting to be left out of this business I went after her, stumbling out of the dining room, glancing around the hallway, looking for her. As I stood blinking in the darkness, hearing the moans in the dining room, I felt for a moment, like a hunter. I could even feel my pulse in my throat, which was suddenly feeling dry. I ran my tongue over my lips and closed my eyes and then I opened them, turning into the living room.
She was sitting on the large, soft couch, her tiny body lost in the depth of the cushions, her pale clothes shining out from it. Her hands were resting in her lap and her head was held high, as I’ve always known it to be. Such a queen she was, a haughty little queen. "So here you are Majesty," I whispered.
"You cheated," she said, "I know it!"
I shrugged, what a spoiled creature. "If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be here, would you?"
"Take of your shirt," she said curtly.
Of course I did as she told me to, why wouldn’t I? What a pleasure it was to drop my shirt onto the carpet, feeling the freedom of the air on my skin. I took a step forward, anticipating and then she spoke again. "I didn’t tell you to come here," she said.
I stopped. Was she initiating a game? I loved games.
"What then?" I asked.
"Don’t speak," she said quietly, "and take off the rest."
I enjoyed being naked more than most of the things that pleased me in life. It was a state of complete comfort for me. But the way she spoke to me at that moment, in the voice of a queen, and then making me stand there, staring at me, I suddenly felt cold and self-conscious. The last time I remember feeling like that did was as a boy, in that first moment when I stood naked for a girl, not knowing what would happen next. And here she was, holding her hand out to me. I gripped the precious little packet I had pulled out of my pocket, and went to her, kneeling at her feet and resting my chin on her knee.
Her soft little fingers went through my hair, tickling at my scalp and causing a rise out of me that was almost painful, with just her scent and touch. "You have your uncle’s eyes," she whispered. "It frightens me sometimes when I look at you."
"I can close them," I whispered, my throat hurt and so did my body.
"No," she said. "Don’t."
She leaned forward and kissed my forehead and as she did, I asked her. "What did she taste like to you?"
Her hand closed on mine, bringing out the most delicious of trembles. "Like skin," she whispered sliding my hand to her soft, little breasts, "Like salt, like a woman I suppose... weak."
"That’s all?" I whispered, barely able to speak. "She doesn’t excite you?"
"No," she said and she slid closer to me, allowing me to unbutton her blouse. "Not really, I like things more solid, I don’t like them weak."
"Am I weak?" I asked.
She didn’t answer me, and I slid the delicate blouse off her shoulders. She stood up and leaned over me, pressing my cheek to her body and I paused, almost turning it over in my mind before I unclasped her pants and kissed the sensitive flesh underneath them. I could feel the trembles that went through her, I heard her delighted gasp and she fell to the floor with me. "I always knew you were a troublesome boy," she said.
"I want you to hurt me," I whispered. "Angry kitten."
She giggled. "For certain?"
"Yes, I want to see that fire you tend in your soul."
She laughed louder, a laugh deep throated and full of energy and I knew that this was a prize I would not soon forget.......
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