by Marie Gray
“It’s good for cruising women,” he said, winking.
“Yes, I guess I’m not the first one to get into this car in the last few weeks!”
“No, but you’re definitely the most beautiful!”
He opened the door and closed it once she was settled. He took his place behind the wheel and asked her if she liked seafood. At her obvious approval of the idea he started the car.
It was a carefree drive, full of good humor and light banter. They arrived at a little restaurant. It looked quite unassuming, but Brigitte recognized its name from the tourist brochures which raved about it. They were shown to a little table on the almost empty terrace. As Vincent seemed to know the place, Brigitte let him order. He spoke a near-perfect Spanish and seemed to be ordering enough food for an army.
The conversation was lively and joyous. Brigitte could not help but admire the young man sitting across the table. He was magnificent. But—and this didn’t harm—he was also funny, intelligent, and could talk about almost anything. She learned that he had his own public relations firm, had been coming to this place for the last four years, and had never been married or even seriously involved with someone. He was looking for “the” ideal woman.
The evening went extremely well, but too quickly. For the first time in a long while Brigitte did not want to go to work. At least she would have delayed going if she could have. She wanted to spend the rest of the evening—and who knows, maybe the night—with this man she felt she had known for years, though they had only just met. But when she imagined the feverish eyes of the audience slipping over her naked body as she danced, she shuddered with pleasure. She looked discreetly at her watch and saw she would have to leave soon. And there was no question of him giving her a lift! Even a hint about what she really did could ruin everything.
Vincent also knew she had to leave. But how he wished the evening could last forever! Could he see her later?
“What time do you finish tonight?” he asked her softly.
“Oh! Around two in the morning. My boss has rented a reception room and the party will probably go on late.”
“That’s too bad. I would’ve come to meet you for a nightcap.”
“I definitely won’t be back before 3 a.m. I’m sorry, I’d have liked to stay. It’s been a wonderful evening.”
“I totally agree, the most beautiful evening I’ve had in a long time! Well! I guess we’ll have to start again tomorrow night, won’t we?”
“Or even before, if you want. I get up pretty early.”
“Perfect! I’ll be on the terrace for breakfast around ten. How about you?”
“I’ll be there!”
Reluctantly, they got up from the table and left the restaurant. He took her gently by the arm, guiding her to the car.
“I’m going to take a cab.”
“I won’t hear of it!”
“No, I mean it. I have to go to the other end of town, there’s no point! I insist.”
“Well, just this once.”
He pulled her towards him, and before she could do anything to stop him—not that she had the slightest desire to do so—he kissed her with such passion that she went limp in his arms. There were so many promises in his kiss! His firm body drove her wild, and his smell went straight to her head. She gently pulled away and whispered:
“I’ll think of you all evening.”
“And I’ll think of you all night. I haven’t felt like this for a long time. I’m already crazy about you!”
Again he pressed his tender lips against hers. After a seemingly endless embrace that left them both glowing with desire, they managed to tear themselves away from each other. Vincent went into the restaurant, called a taxi, then came back and took her hand. They waited in silence. When the old taxi pulled up he helped her in, gave her another burning kiss, and watched the vehicle pull away with a somber look on his face. For the entire trip Brigitte wondered over and over if this man could accept her life as it was. He seemed so sensitive to beautiful things and refined manners, to a woman’s softness and delicateness; he would no doubt be horrified to learn where she was going and what she would be doing for the rest of the evening.
* * *
She arrived at her workplace with only a few minutes to spare and hurried to get ready for her first number. She could not stop thinking of Vincent, the softness of his lips, the heat of his kisses. As if floating on a cloud she got up on stage and started her first dance. The bar was crowded with Mexicans and, most of all, with American tourists and businessmen. It was quite a chic place, and the clientele was decidedly upscale. Brigitte had been told that the customers rarely got out of hand or made trouble, so she felt completely secure. She stepped forward on the stage, wearing a sequined bra and a matching g-string, perched on stiletto heels. Her graceful body started to move to the rhythm of the music. Gradually, she transformed herself into the goddess she became each time she got on stage for the pleasure of her audience.
Her movements became more and more languid, as if her body were there only to be admired and desired by the spectators. The audience was attentive to her every move; each man looked at her with a certain glimmer in his eye. She asked only to be possessed, devoured. Her long legs seemed to go on forever; her open thighs displayed her almost totally shaven blonde bush. She finally took off her top, letting her long hair caress her back and tickle her breasts deliciously.
All she could think of was Vincent. She wanted him there admiring her. For all the men who were looking at her now she was nothing but a dream. They faded into nothingness next to Vincent. She imagined his hands running over her body, massaging her ample breasts, spreading her thighs to discover her hot pussy that longed only for him.
At the end of the number Brigitte hurried off stage, as if waking up from a dream. She fled to the bathroom. Her breath came in gasps; she could not help but think of Vincent. Her dance had made her very excited, the many eyes on her firing her desire. Reaching down between her legs she caressed her damp sex, and in only a few seconds came with a long sigh.
* * *
The next morning she went to the terrace at ten. Vincent was already waiting for her with a glass of orange juice in front of him. He got to his feet, his face lighting up with his incomparable smile. Brigitte did not look quite so fresh. She had slept badly, dreaming about Vincent, his body next to her in bed, then on her, and in her. She had almost broken a record for masturbation and had to force herself to stop, more frustrated than ever. But now, seeing him there in all his magnificence in the bright morning sun, her good mood instantly returned. Fearing she might be ill at ease after the way they had separated the night before, Vincent was determined to reaffirm his intentions. He did not even give her time to sit down, but took her in his arms and kissed her with as much conviction as the day before. All she wanted was to suggest they go have breakfast in his room, but something prevented her. He seemed to emanate a deep respect that would not allow things to be hurried between them.
They ate in near silence; their smiles spoke volumes about how they were both feeling. After a bountiful meal they decided to head for the inviting beach. Vincent knew how to do everything. He introduced her to the joys of undersea diving, sailing, and parachuting. He seemed to have a natural aptitude for everything physical. Brigitte pondered about this aptitude, impatient to see just how far it went. But indeed, Vincent seemed to be in no hurry. She would have liked to suggest a little afternoon nap, but again held herself back. If he wanted to make her wait, why shouldn’t she do the same?
They went swimming, splashed each other, and played like children. Around three in the afternoon, exhausted, they decided to nap—but not the kind of nap Brigitte was hoping for! They each went to their room, agreeing to meet again around 5 p.m. for a drink and dinner. Vincent was definitely more difficult to corrupt than the men Brigitte was used to meeting. How refreshing!
* * *
The alcohol went to her head. Brigitte was becoming obsessed. As Vincent ta
lked over drinks she examined his jaw and his teeth, and every time he moved she admired his muscles working beneath the tanned skin. He seemed to be doing the same with her. They were in a world of their own. They had hamburgers and fries for supper, washed down with several margaritas. When the time came for Brigitte to leave she was very tipsy, and so was Vincent. But at least that way she had little trouble convincing him to let her take a taxi again. The trip in the shaky old vehicle did not do much to sober her up. But the effect was not unpleasant, and she ordered another drink when she got to the bar before going off to get changed.
When she got up on stage she was very lightheaded, but not just from the alcohol. She felt so well that her body seemed to dance by itself, without her having to give it orders. All she wanted was Vincent. Yes, she would soon have to talk to him about her work, though she was surer than ever that he would not let the woman of his life practice this sort of occupation. He had the look of someone who was used to controlling situations, not having them forced on him. Something in his look gave her the feeling that this time she might have to choose. But she banished the thought, content just to enjoy the present moment. That evening several men asked her to dance at their tables and paid generously for the favor. She even danced for a couple of lovers who seemed to revel in the spectacle. She liked these private dances, for they allowed her to get dangerously close to the limit she had set for herself. She could look people in the eye, guess their secrets and their fantasies; but it was a oneway street. She kept up her face of marble and her motionless smile—the image of an inaccessible goddess. Whether she danced for a man alone or at a group table, she thought of Vincent. How she would have loved to show him this side of herself ! But it was impossible. She was madly in love with him and that would not change—unless he did something to gravely disappoint her in the next few days. He would never understand that she could do this work and also have a simple, healthy life, totally free of the “vices of the trade.” It was so hard to explain to someone on the “outside!” But this man seemed to represent so many promises. The more she got to know him, the more he resembled the Prince Charming she had been looking for all her life. Was it possible she had finally found someone for whom she would even give up her work, give up this pleasure that had become so important to her? Maybe. She would just have to see how things went.
* * *
When she got back that night Vincent was waiting for her. The hotel bar was closed and he was sitting in one of the armchairs in the lobby. He looked as if he were dozing, but when he saw her come in through the big front door he leapt to his feet and in a single bound was before her, taking her in his arms.
“I … I just had to see you.”
Leaving her no time to answer, he crushed his mouth against hers almost painfully. Taking her by the hand he led her to the elevator. Staring straight ahead as they waited, he seemed to be concentrating very hard on something. When the elevator doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, he grabbed hold of her again and pushed her inside. She fell back against the wall. Vincent pressed himself against her, took her face and hair in his hands, and kissed her passionately. She felt his insistent body pushing itself against hers, leaving no doubt as to how much he wanted her. He ran his hands over her body, discovering each of her curves with greedy delight, crushing her back and breasts with his powerful arms.
The doors opened at the fourth floor. Without a word he took her to his room and feverishly threw the door open. In an instant they were both naked and breathless, mute with desire. They did not waste a second, but collapsed on the thick plush carpet. Vincent plunged into her with no warning. Pinned beneath him Brigitte could barely breathe, but her desire was so intense that it did not matter. She wrapped her long legs around him, forcing him into her hard, clutching him into the depths of her body. Then she rolled over so she was on top of him, now forcing her desire upon him—her insatiable mouth, her conquering sex that squeezed him tighter and tighter. They kissed as if they had been waiting for years to accomplish this simple gesture, joining their tongues and their saliva, exploring each other’s mouths almost desperately. He penetrated her roughly, unrelentingly, and the woman thrust her hips flat against him, pushing him away, then pulling him in deeper. Gasping for breath at the brink of orgasm, they pulled apart for a moment, then plunged back into each other. When neither could hold on any longer, they came at almost the same instant, Vincent flooding into his companion in utter silence.
They remained this way until the brink of sleep, then dragged themselves to bed, sinking happily into the sheets before sleep finally overcame them.
Several hours later Brigitte was awakened by a delectable sensation. What she assumed was a tongue was tracing abstract shapes on her back, trailing down and tenderly tickling her buttocks. Vincent massaged her head, his fingers tangled in her silky hair. Gently, he turned her over on her back so he could lick the front of her body. From her ears he went down her neck, then lingered over each breast before getting to her belly. He kissed her thighs, knees, calves, and feet with light, almost furtive kisses. Brigitte lay still, fully savoring these superb caresses. When Vincent spread her legs and slid his tongue inside her, she gave a nervous little jump before giving into the pleasure.
His patience was the complete opposite of their first lovemaking hours earlier. He nibbled her gently, happy to hear her sighing beneath his mouth. With a tender gesture he spread the engorged lips of her sex so he could get to that most vulnerable place in her body. He darted his pointed tongue inside, teasing Brigitte’s slightly bruised and swollen flesh. She swam in a sea of pleasure, body and spirit floating. Her body came alive with what felt like thousands of tiny sparks; she felt herself vibrate. Fingers came to replace the man’s tongue, pushing deeply into her, making her moan with pain and pleasure. Then the skillful tongue began its caresses again, while the hand plunged deeply inside her, bruising her flesh even more. The hand felt Brigitte’s sex trembling on the verge of violent pleasure. Vincent slid on top of her, then inside her, plunging with ease into her wet pussy, prolonging the precise and regular gliding movement that rubbed at the open lips, bringing forth new moans.
Brigitte felt herself melting like an ice cube in the sun. Her lover filled her. He slid into her slowly and deeply, letting his member slide to the inmost depths of her body. It was if the hard and pulsing organ was truly a part of herself.
Their breathing became more and more uneven, each adapting to the other’s rhythm in a dance of lust. Leaning against the head of the bed, Vincent made her sit on him, bringing her breasts to his open lips. She floated on top of him, obeying only the arms of this man beneath her hips who dictated their rhythm with the full length of his member. Looking Brigitte deep in the eyes, Vincent pressed his probing hand between his companion’s thighs, seizing the sex that begged to come again. At a single touch from him Brigitte exploded with pleasure, and when Vincent caught his breath sharply a second before he came, she was convinced she was madly in love. She never wanted to leave him. Ever.
* * *
That is how they spent the rest of the week. They made love from morning to evening, stopping only to take advantage of the sun, or take a dip in the warm ocean. After sunset they walked on the shore, looking for the perfect place to give free rein to their desire.
On the last evening Vincent took Brigitte to the top of a cliff overlooking the bay. The air was sweet and fragrant, the grass silky. They both wanted this last evening to remain an unforgettable memory. They got undressed slowly, exposing their naked skin to the moonlight and the delicious breeze. Kneeling before each other, their gestures tender as if in prayer, they brought each other to climax in silence. Lying beneath the starry night sky, they made love for one last time on Mexican soil. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, completely satisfied, and did not waken until dawn.
* * *
Vincent changed his plane ticket; he was absolutely determined to go back on the same flight as Brigitte. Once he had made the cha
nge he went by his companion’s room and knocked.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course! About anything you want!”
Brigitte playfully tried to lure him to the bed.
“No, this is serious.”
She thought she could see a dark cloud on the horizon and was afraid. She sat down on one of the armchairs and listened attentively.
“Brigitte, this last week has been extraordinary.”
“Yes, but … ?”
“But? There is no but! I just wanted to know if we could keep seeing each other once we’re back in Montreal. I mean, just the two of us. I couldn’t stand it if another man touched you. So if you have someone else in your life, or if you aren’t ready for this, just tell me, please.”
Without hesitating Brigitte got up and slipped into his arms. But she was racked with anxiety. She had thought he wanted to tell her about some other love he had in Montreal, and she would have had to accept it. Not without shedding a few tears, but she would have had no other choice. At least then he would have been the jerk, not she! She had to be honest with herself; she adored this man and sooner or later would have to explain the true nature of her work. But how do you explain to the man you love that you dance for people just for pleasure? She didn’t take drugs, she had no financial problems (contrary to all the clichés about exotic dancers); she just danced for her own pleasure, for the sense of power and confidence it gave her. How do you admit to the man of your life that you need to feel devoured by the eyes of others, to feel their desire? She decided to delay this revelation.
She would have to find the right moment.
* * *
Finally, they left their hotel to go to the airport. After the usual formalities they boarded the plane and made themselves comfortable in their seats, side by side. The takeoff was smooth, and because it was a direct flight they would be seeing a film after they ate.