It felt wonderful to be kissed and caressed. It felt wonderful to have his sexual needs met by something other than his hand as well. He knew he would do whatever it took to keep this working for him, because he did not want to give up that close contact. He knew he was also satisfying their desires.
He lifted his head to have a look at Char ministering to him. “Char, sweetheart that feels fabulous. Suck just a little harder now, please. It is starting to become more urgent.” Then he laid back and let her mouth do it’s magic. This time it would be just for him. The girls needed a breather anyway.
At various stages throughout the night he would enter one and then the other, testing himself to see how long he could hold his orgasm. He knew they were experiencing the same thing he did when he reached orgasm by their body language. Finally after coming again, what, the ninth time? The tenth?, he realized dawn was approaching. Pulling out, he winced. He was red and sore from overuse. Both girls lay spread out, getting their breath back.
Gastien plopped down. He was suspended in that in between world of after sex, when all is complete. Thinking about the pure energy, the explosion of sensation that happened every time he hit orgasm, he decided that the ability to feel that joy was worth every bit of hell that the world could throw at him. He never could have imagined that intensity. It was like his drive to paint…pure and raw. One thing is for sure, Gastien thought lazily, I am making it my goal to have sex as often as possible when I am not painting. Mon Dieu! It is like flying and falling at the same time! When his breath steadied, he kissed each girl and then got up to dress. “Merci beaucoup, both of you. That was unbelievable,” he said. “Simply unbelievable.”
“You are very welcome, Gastien. You were a quick learner. Glad we could have the honor of bringing you across into manhood,“ replied Chantelle. Then her face sobered. “Such a sweet face. Yet something tells me that you will be quite a bastard.”
Gastien arched a brow and looked at her. “Did I not give you what you wanted, chèrie?”
He was surprised to see Chantelle now actually blush. “Oui. That was exactly what I wanted.”
Gastien laughed. “Then quit protesting. Feigning objection to something you so clearly asked for is not very honest.”
“You are too bold, Gastien! You need to remember your place,” she spat.
Gastien’s eyes grew cold. “My place, chèrie?”
“You need to remember when you are with a lady that she is of a class you aren’t!”
Gastien’s laugh was harsh. “When a lady acts like a lady I treat her as such. You were a bitch in heat. I simply did my civic duty and put the fire out.” She drew back her hand to slap him. He caught the hand and whispered, “Let’s just part friends.” Then he grabbed her and kissed her, forcing his tongue in her mouth until once again she melted against him. “See?” he teased. “You are not a lady. Not really. You are very beautiful, Chantelle, but you needed some taming. It just happened to be me who understood that.”
Char simply smiled and got up to give him a long, lingering kiss. “Gastien, it was my pleasure,” she said shyly.
Gastien said, “Non, non the pleasure was mine. You are quite lovely. Merci, both of you. I can find my way out.”
Chantelle watched him walk out, looking pensive. In her heart, she knew she would never have a man like that for a husband. Suddenly she was filled with sadness. It would be a long, lonely life, being a lady.
As Gastien left the house he said to himself, Mon Dieu! I can hardly walk, my legs are so unsteady. They had not overdone the vin, but those two twins had almost killed him! What a way to go, he thought, laughing.
XIV
He made his way over to Notre Dame. Good, his belongings were still safe. He next went to wash the smell of conne off of his face and body, making sure he washed his bite very tenderly. Gastien looked in the mirror to see if he looked any different.
It was in his eyes. His eyes held a new knowledge in them, along with a confidence that comes with that knowledge. He did not look like a green little farm boy anymore. He looked like a young man. His face still held a seductive sweetness, but he now looked like someone who knew a thing or two about his charms and how pleasing he could be to a woman. It was a deadly combination that would mature over the years, causing many a seduction as it ripened.
He smiled at his reflection, thankful to whoever it was who had granted him this asset. He knew he was at a disadvantage in many areas, but this gift was going to be powerful. He would make sure of it.
Gastien went back to the bench, got more drawing paper and took off. Things were definitely looking up.
“I am a man now!” he exclaimed out loud. “A man! Also, I sold my first piece of art! I knew things would get better. I am on my way!”
He was giddy with this new found power. He knew he was going to be very, very talented, both in creating art and in creating desire. There would be no stopping him now!
Poor Gastien. If only he had known what trials lay ahead, he would have tempered that enthusiasm.
XV
As he headed back to the 6th, the smell of freshly baked pastries assaulted his nostrils. All of that sex had made him very hungry! He allowed himself a croissant from the money he had earned last night, but only water to drink. He wanted to be able to make the money last. There was enough there for two large dinners…or he could make it last and eat only soup.
As he sat in the bakery eating the croissant, he drew the girl who waited on him. Then he drew some street scenes and various people on the street. Before he knew it he had been sitting there a couple of hours. The girl kept looking at him, worrying that she should be asking him to move on. However, the owner was not there and the tables were not full. What did it hurt to allow the cute, young artist a place to sit while he drew? Meeting his eyes, she smiled shyly and looked away. It would not do for him to know that she found him quite irresistible. She did not want him to think she was easy. She was a virgin and would stay that way until married. She could enjoy looking, however, which she did whenever she assumed Gastien did not notice.
He noticed all right. He could feel her eyes on him as he drew. Regardless, Gastien had other priorities right now. He was doing art. That took precedence over everything, especially when he was still so tender from last night! He needed to give that particular tool a brief rest.
The thought entered his mind that sex might not come so easily for him once he was not clean. Ah, well. The thought did not bother him so much now. Sex would come when it came. If he had to wait, he would simply use his hand. He had experienced sex now, making the need not so desperate. Oh, oui, he wanted it. He just needed to learn how to paint more than he needed to dip his wick.
When he got up to leave, he gave the girl the drawing he had done of her. She blushed prettily, thanking him. It was an impressive likeness. He had done quite a few drawings and she was surprised by the detail he had accomplished in such a short amount of time. Gastien smiled at her. “You are very welcome, chèrie. It was my pleasure to draw such a lovely woman.” She walked on clouds the rest of the day.
XVI
Gastien passed the time until two o’clock in the park, reading the book about oil painting. He drew a little more. This time, he slowed down and did only one drawing. It was of the park, with several people on the benches. Gastien was quite pleased with how it turned out. He was thinking about trying to sell it when he saw Mic approaching.
As Gastien sauntered toward him, Mic noticed a subtle difference in the way Gastien carried himself. Frowning slightly, he wondered what it was. There was a more confident swagger in his new amis walk, and he held himself straighter, looking people directly in the eyes. “Salut, Gaz. Good to see you. So, what’s new since we parted last night?” he inquired casually.
“Mic, I am proud to say that I sold my first piece of artwork!” Gastien exclaimed excitedly. Mic beamed and clapped him on the back.
“That is fabulous! Tell me how it happened.” They sat down on a ben
ch and Gastien told him the whole story of Jeannine and Jacques. Mic was impressed. “Wow, you really have sales skills, Gaz. That will help you immensely over the years. Good for you!” Mic paused. “I don’t want to discourage you or take anything away from this happy experience, but you do realize that most people will not pay even one fourth of that, don’t you?” Mic looked at Gastien worriedly.
Gastien nodded. “Oui. I sure do realize that. I really am just off a turnip wagon, I know, but I do have some common sense!” They both laughed. “Actually, I am pretty sure that some days I won’t sell a thing. There is lots of competition around here! People probably get impatient with young artists asking to draw or paint them. I am strongly considering having only soup every night from this money. That way, I don’t have to go completely without food again for several days.”
“That is a good plan. Not very filling, but very smart,” agreed Mic. He brightened. “Well, at least you will have stimulating company. I will join you every night that I can. We will talk about painting!”
“Oh, I would absolutely love that!” Gastien said excitedly. “But you don’t have to spend so much time with me. I know that you must have other amis.”
“Well, they will be joining us. I can’t just bore you to death with my same old stories. I will be introducing you to other students I go to school with.”
Gastien could not believe his luck. Even on the nights Mic worked he would have others to talk art with! Could life get much better? Of course, that was assuming he would sell enough to eat each night. He supposed some nights he would go without.
The conversation came to an end. Gastien sat there with a twinkle in his eye. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Gastien was fairly bursting to tell Mic about losing his virginity. Mic could sense Gastien’s desire to talk.
“Ok, Gaz…you are dying to tell me something. So spill it. Don’t tell me it gets even better or I might become jealous. Did you sell another drawing, too?”
“Ummm…no…better than that…” Gastien looked like a cat that had just lapped down a full bowl of cream.
“What could be better than – ” Mic's mouth dropped open. “Oh mon Dieu! You lost your virginity! That is the only thing I can think of that is better! You devil, how did you manage to accomplish that on the same night? Who did you seduce with those big eyes?”
Gastien looked at him, the smile growing bigger and bigger. Finally, he stated casually, “Oh, you know. The usual, I guess. Twins.” He could contain the full out grin no longer.
Mic barked out a laugh. “What? TWINS???? You??? I mean, I know you are good looking…but who is lucky enough to have sex with twins, especially the first time down the road? How did this happen? You must give me details!”
So Gastien told him a little about it, but he did withhold any information on who exactly these girls were or where they lived. He was not a cad. To kiss and tell would not make him popular with women. After listening to Gastien, and commenting back and forth on it, Mic said, “Well, you have had enough fun to last a while. Now it is time to get to work. Let me set up, and then you can watch and listen. After awhile I will turn the canvas over to you, so try not to daydream about twins!” Mic clapped Gaz on the back, smiling.
Gastien looked at him seriously. “Mic, I will never put anything ahead of my art. You have to know that. I am so grateful to you for this! I will be the best student I can be, you have my word.”
“I know you will, Gastien. Don’t worry, something tells me you won’t need much except a few pointers and then lots of practice. Let’s get going.”
Mic got set up and started to explain things about the paints, glazes and other techniques. Some of it was familiar, because Gastien had been reading the painting book. He watched carefully as Mic began demonstrating different things to him.
Soon it was time for him to take the brush. Mon Dieu, he was nervous! His hand shook. Mic placed his hand on Gastien’s. He squeezed it gently and said softly, “Don’t be nervous, Gaz. It is just me. You have it, I know it. Most importantly, you know it.” Mic paused. Then he whispered, “Use the brush like you used your other tool last night. Master it. Make it speak for you, create for you.” Gastien closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. “Feel it, Gaz? The brush speaks to you. What it says to you will be different than what it says to me, but it will talk. And you need to talk to it. Talk to the paints, too. Become one with them. Just let it happen. You do it with charcoal, this is no different. You will just achieve greater results.” He took his hand off Gastien’s. “Make love to the paints now, Gaz.”
Mic was almost afraid to watch. In reality, many could not make the transition from drawing to oil painting. He hoped his intuition was right, that Gastien was going to be as good as he suspected he was going to be. If he was wrong, how was he going to break his new friend’s heart by telling him he would not make it? Competition was stiff. Paris was the art capital of the world! Artists and would be artists arrived or left every day. Many died here impoverished, never selling a thing. Mic stepped back, holding his breath.
Gastien grasped the brush in his left hand. All of a sudden it became part of him. He did not will it, it simply was meant to be. It was like that part of him had always been missing. Finally, at long last, here it was! Gastien was no longer afraid. Unsure of what he was doing, but not afraid. He listened to the voice in his head. That voice was older than creation itself, and it was telling him that it was time. He was simply an instrument for that voice, the force that creates. He dipped the brush in the paint and started. Mic had begun a park scene, painting in the trees and fountain. Gastien now began to add a person…then another. One could not tell they were really people yet, but as he added different colors and tones they began to take shape.
Mic found that he had a lump in his throat. He was very moved by what he was watching. This boy was truly gifted! Sure, his painting was rudimentary, but how he was doing it, where he was going, were things that lessons did not teach. He could see that Gastien had already felt that deep relationship between an artist and their tools. Mic knew that soon his friend would be making beautiful love to those paints. He kept silent, not wanting to break the spell. When people walking by slowed down, Mic waved them away quietly with a kind smile. He did not want Gastien interrupted. Not so soon. Gastien needed time to build that relationship with his tools, to cement the bond. He needed to live and breathe the paints.
After about an hour, Gastien stepped back. Looking at his work, he felt it was not great, but he did not think it was awful, either. He turned to look at Mic. “Mic? “ That was all he dared to ask.
Mic nodded. Then he broke out in a grin. “Gaz, I think you are going to make it! Fils de pute, I think I have met someone who is going to be much, much better than me! Good job, Gaz. Great start!”
“Not bad, is it? I mean, I know it is not sellable by a long shot. I know I will probably make a mess of glazing and stuff for awhile…but it is there inside me like I said, isn’t it. Now I just need to practice. A lot!”
“We will see to it that you do, too. We will use and reuse this canvas for the next several times. Moving forward, you will be painting the whole time, with me giving you hints when either of us thinks you need them. You did a great job this first time! Now, let’s fold up shop and get some soup. I want to hear more details about those twins!”
“The twins? I thought we were going to have a serious discussion about art!” Gastien said coyly.
“Are you out of your mind? You just spent several hours between the thighs of twins! I am your best ami, and we are both young men. You can’t hold out on me, Gaz! I need to hear more!”
“Well, ok, but you had better be prepared to give your hand a good workout when you hit the sack tonight,” Gastien teased.
“Don’t you worry about that, Gaz. Just give me the fuel for the fire!” They both were laughing as they walked to a restaurant for their meager dinner of soup and perhaps one baguette.
The next few days were spent wi
th Gastien reading his painting book and drawing in the mornings through early afternoons. After that, he would paint on the practice canvas under Mic’s watchful eye. He also tried several times to sell different drawings. He sold a few for very small amounts of money. All money was welcome. He was turned down regularly, too. Gastien just kept trying.
XVII
Soon it was Sunday, the day that he was to meet Mic at Le Procope to learn how to be a proper waiter. Gastien stood at the mirror in the church. Mon Dieu, he looked shaggy. His facial hair was growing out quickly. As for his hair, it had been time for a haircut before he had left home. At least he could be somewhat clean. He washed his face and neck, his underarms. It would be wonderful if he could bathe. It was a little too cold to bathe in the river now. He used his tooth brush and rinsed his mouth. Mic told him to wear the same clothes he had worn all week, because he would probably get food on them.
When he arrived at the restaurant, Mic was waiting. Gastien was introduced to the chefs and other kitchen help, along with a few other waiters. He would be “practicing” in an area that was not used during this time of day on Sundays, as people generally ate at home as a family then.
The head chef looked at him critically. Then the chef asked Mic, “Why are you bothering to train him? You know Monsieur only hires experienced waiters. This boy does not stand a chance!”
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