Belle - Lesley Pearse [99]
Serge bought them both an ice-cream cone and they went into the gardens on Jackson Square and sat on a bench in the shade to eat them. Belle had only been to this part of the French Quarter a couple of times and she really liked it. It was gentle, quiet and serene, at least compared with Basin Street which was always loud, hectic and rough.
There were a couple of musicians busking, a black girl was tap-dancing on a piece of board, and a strange-looking mulatto woman wearing a red satin cape over what looked like an old lace wedding dress was telling fortunes with some sticks she was throwing.
Many of the men walking round the square were likely to be down in the District later in the day; perhaps many of the pretty younger women walking under their frilly parasols were in fact whores by night too. But it didn’t seem that way. If Belle looked up she could see people sitting out in the afternoon sun on their pretty wrought-iron balconies, mothers nursing their babies. She could hear couples chatting together, and children squealing as they played ball games with their mothers, and it felt as if nothing bad could ever happen in the French Quarter.
Serge didn’t ask her any questions, not even about her background or how she came to be with Martha. He talked about general things and told her even more amusing stories, but all the time he was holding her hand and caressing it, and all she could think of was how much she wanted to be kissed by him.
They had come out of Martha’s at about three, and it was nearly five when he said he’d take her to his place to make her some mint tea. By then Belle felt she might just pass out with longing if he didn’t kiss her soon.
She didn’t have long to wait. They were barely in his small apartment with dark wood shutters at the windows, when he took her in his arms. As his lips came down on hers she felt as if she was losing all sense of her own will. She wanted nothing more than to be possessed by Serge.
‘Beautiful, beautiful Belle,’ he whispered as he nuzzled at her neck while unhooking her dress. ‘You know you were made for love, your hair, your skin, your body, all so perfect. And I will make you see how good lovemaking is for you. You might have come in here a young girl, but you will go out a woman.’
Belle wanted to believe him as he bent his head to kiss her breasts, murmuring that they too were perfect, that he’d never said this to another girl, and that he was falling in love with her. But she knew that wasn’t how it was, that he was just an actor who played his part superbly, and she didn’t really mind, for he was making her feel things she couldn’t have imagined before.
He removed all her clothes easily and quickly and moved her over to his bed while still fully dressed himself, apart from his jacket which he’d taken off as they came in. Then on the bed he kissed her ever more passionately while his fingers caressed her private parts. The astounding thing was that the stroking and probing which those other men had done back in Paris and had seemed so vile and painful, were now exquisitely lovely.
His lips moved down her body, kissing her breasts, her arms, her belly, and she was arching her back for more of his caresses for he had found a spot in her vagina which felt so wonderful when he circled it with his finger that she thought she might scream out loud.
He moved away from it, turning her over to kiss her back and her buttocks, then slid his hand beneath her again to play with her and make her gasp out that it was wonderful.
Belle didn’t remember him removing his clothes, he did it so seamlessly. One minute he was dressed, the next naked, and when she saw his erect penis, she wasn’t scared, she wanted it inside her.
She was beyond caring about how she was behaving or what he would think of her. She pulled him towards her by his hips, wrapping her legs around him like a vine, and as he slid into her she screamed out in pleasure.
Belle had witnessed the sex act many times now, but what she