She shook her head. “I don’t want any wine.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Maurice said. “Drink it.”
She took the glass and held it to her lips and sipped slowly, then began to put it down.
“All of it,” Maurice snapped.
She picked up the glass again and drained it, feeling the warmth of the dark red wine seeping into her. She put the glass down.
Maurice refilled it. “That’s better,” he said. “Just do as I tell you and we won’t have any problems.” He began to fill his plate with cold ham, tongue, pâté and cheese. Breaking off a piece of bread, he began to eat hungrily. “This is good,” he said. “Why don’t you have some?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said. “Just tired.”
“Food will make you feel better,” he said as Jerry returned.
Janette stared at him. Jerry was in drag, wearing a sheer paneled chiffon dress with nothing underneath that exposed his privates with every motion. He had made up his face—lipstick, mascaraed lashes, shadowed eyes, rouged cheeks.
Maurice saw the expression on her face and laughed. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think he makes a pretty girl?”
She didn’t answer. Jerry laughed, a thin falsetto laugh, and sank into a chair, his legs akimbo. The panels of the dress fell open away from his hips, revealing the pale length of his penis.
Maurice smiled, still eating. “Don’t you think he has a pretty prick?” he asked. “Not as large as mine, of course, but quite graceful.
She took a deep breath. “Maurice,” she said.
He shook a gently chiding finger. “Papa.”
She met his eyes. “Papa.”
“That’s better, Janette. Now, what is it you want to say?”
“Why?” she asked. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“There’s nothing to understand, Janette,” he said. “Your mother is a whore. And when you leave here, you’ll be even a bigger whore than she is.”
“You can’t keep me here!” she cried, starting to run from the room.
With one leap, he caught her arm before she reached the door. He dragged her back into the room. “It seems to me, Janette, that you’re acting like a baby. And you know what they do to babies when they don’t behave? They get spanked!”
He sat down on a chair and pulled her across his lap face down. His hand rose and fell with an even rhythm. At first there was pain, then she felt a warmth spreading through her buttocks into her loins. Her cries began to turn to a soft moan.
Maurice laughed. “Do you want to be spanked?”
She shook her head violently.
He laughed again and suddenly thrust his hand between her legs underneath her and began to massage her vulva at the same time continuing the rhythmic slapping on her buttocks. She began to gasp for breath, unable to control her spastic reactions.
“Look what you’ve done, you naughty girl,” Maurice said. “You’ve gotten Jerry all excited and jealous. He’s got a big hard on.”
Suddenly she was aware that Jerry was standing in front of her, masturbating his penis violently. She shook her head to turn away from him.
“Stick it in her mouth, Jerry!” Maurice almost shouted. “Choke her with it!”
Jerry grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to open her mouth. He pushed his penis into her mouth just as he began to come.
She began to choke and gasp trying to cry out when suddenly she felt herself in the grip of an orgasm so violent, so strong, that she had never imagined anything could have ever created such spasms of agony, pleasure and pain.
Suddenly, Maurice stood up, spilling her from his lap to the floor. She lay there, gasping and crying, unable to move. He smiled down at her. “That’s lesson number one, dear child,” he said. “There will be many more. And you will learn to love all of them in time. You’ll see.”
He turned to Jerry. “Get her into her bed.”
Jerry picked her up and carried her into the bedroom and threw her down. Maurice came from behind him and picked up her arm. She heard a click. Then stared at her arm. A handcuff fastened her to the brass bedpost. She turned to look up at Maurice.
“That’s just so that you don’t get any funny ideas in the night,” he said. “Like trying to run away.”
Then he turned and left the room, followed by Jerry. The light suddenly went out, leaving her sobbing alone in the night.
***
She never knew whether it was day or night. When they came to take her from the bed, the drapes were always closed; even the bathroom windows were covered. The meals seemed to be always the same. Never a breakfast, lunch or dinner. A variety of cold cuts on the table. Bread. Wine. Strange things were happening in her head. Now the only thing she resented was lying alone, handcuffed to the bed in the dark. She began to await the times they would come for her. Even to look forward to the pain, because always with it came the exquisite agony of release.
Maurice’s words kept turning over and over in her mind. “Remember, Janette, without pain there is no pleasure. The two go together, heighten each other, each contributing to the ultimate bliss.”
It always began with a spanking. Once she had heard Jerry ask, “Why don’t you use the cat?”
“There must be no marks,” Maurice had answered.
That had been the first time they had taken her to Maurice’s bed, her hands tied with long silken ropes to the wooden bedposts. “You take her first,” Maurice said. “Get her ready for me.”
He held her legs apart while Jerry knelt on his knees before her. Quickly he masturbated, trying to make himself erect, then suddenly pushed himself into her. She cried out with the sharp quick pain but then Jerry went suddenly limp and fell out of her. He turned to Maurice. “I told you I can’t make it with a woman!”
With an angry gesture, Maurice pushed him away. He dropped his robe and got on the bed, positioning himself between her legs. He was already erect.
Janette stared up at him, unable to take her eyes from his phallus. “I’m afraid,” she cried.
Maurice put his hand down between her legs, then brought it up and looked at it. His fingers glistened with moisture and a faint tinge of pale blood. “Your big wet whore’s cunt belies your words,” he said.
“You’ll hurt me!”
He smiled, “Remember, Janette, without pain there is no pleasure.” He put his hands under her buttocks and raised her toward him.
She stared down with wide eyes as he slowly moved himself into her. She could not believe that she could open wide enough to receive him. He seemed to pause for a moment as he came to an obstruction. He looked into her eyes, then, without warning, gave a violent shove.
The pain tore through her and she screamed. He put a hand over her mouth, holding her motionless against him with the other hand. After a moment, she opened her eyes, staring up into his face, then slowly lowered her gaze. He felt her lungs fill with air as she came to the realization that he was completely buried inside her. Her eyes slowly moved back up to him, beginning to fill with a strange kind of wonder. He stared at her for a moment, then took his hand away from her mouth and pulled the cords that bound her to the bedposts, freeing her hand.
She stared at him for a moment more, then, suddenly, threw her arms around him clinging to him tightly. She began slow tentative movements, then as she grew more frenetic, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut so that the tears forced their way through her closed lids. Her voice was a whisper turning to a screaming shout in her ears. “Papa! Papa! Papa!”
Her eyes opened staring up at him. “Slap my face!”
His open hand cracked across her cheek.
“Again!”
This time there were white handprints on her cheek. She smiled up at him. “You do love me, don’t you, Papa?” she asked.
He laughed aloud. “You’re Papa’s little whore!” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. You knew it all the time. That’s what I always wanted to be.”
After that she never went back to the bed in the small room. She slept in Maurice’s big bed with the two of them. One morning she woke up and there was daylight flooding into the room. She blinked her eyes.
Maurice was standing next to the bed, already dressed. “Your mother came home from the clinic last night,” he said. “I’ll have Jerry drop you off at the house.”
“I don’t want to see her,” she said.
“Then you’ll have to go back to school,” he said.
“Can’t I stay here?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. If you don’t go back to school there will be too many questions.”
“But I want to stay with you,” she said.
“You can’t,” he said. He put his hands in his pocket and came out with a key ring. “But I had a set of keys made for you. Next month when you have the Easter holidays you can come down here, and if we’re not home you can let yourself in.”
That afternoon she boarded the train back to school.
***
The late April sunshine was fading from the windows when Jacques sank exhausted into a chair in the large flower-filled living room. He looked up at Tanya and Johann. “I’m dead. I’m glad it’s over.”
Johann nodded. “I thought the press conference went very well.”
“The best idea I had was holding it here in your house,” Jacques said to Tanya. “I think everyone appreciated the personal touch. They’re so bored with salons and hotel conference rooms.”
“Do you think they liked the advance preview of some of Shiki’s designs?” Tanya asked.
“From what I heard,” Jacques answered, “they all loved them. Now they’ll all turn out for the showing at collection time. They know you’re serious.”
“Did Shiki leave already?” she asked.
“Yes,” Jacques answered. “He was gone as soon as the last reporter disappeared.” He got to his feet. “And that’s what I’d better be doing. Let you get some rest. It will be a hectic day at the office tomorrow.”
“I’ll be leaving too,” Johann said. “Congratulations.”
Tanya smiled. “It’s too soon for that. We’d better wait until after the showings.”
“I’m not worried anymore,” Johann said. “It will be all right.”
She saw them to the door, they kissed her cheek goodbye, then she turned and started for the staircase. Henri came toward her. “Madame,” he said hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“Mademoiselle Janette is in her room,” he said.
“Janette! Here?” The surprise echoed in her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“She arrived in the midst of the conference, Madame, and asked me not to disturb you.”
Without another word she ran up the stairs. The door to Janette’s room was closed. She knocked politely, then entered. Janette was standing at the window, looking out. “Janette!” Tanya exclaimed.
Janette turned toward her mother. Her eyes were expressionless. “Hello, Mother,” she said in a dull voice.
Tanya stared at her. The girl’s face was thin and drawn and there were deep blue circles under her eyes. “Janette,” she cried. “What’s the matter with you?”
Janette made no move to come toward her. She met her mother’s eyes defiantly. “I’m pregnant,” she said.
“No,” Tanya said. “No.”
“Yes, Mother,” Janette said.
Tanya moved toward her. “My poor baby.”
Janette avoided her arms. “I’m not your poor baby, Mother. Not anymore.”
“Why didn’t you call me? At least answer my calls?” Tanya asked.
“What difference would it have made?” Janette shrugged. “You would have had the baby anyway.”
“You have a sister, Janette.”
“And my sister will have a sister,” Janette said.
Tanya stared into her daughter’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t be stupid, Mother,” Janette said. “The same man that made you pregnant made me pregnant.”
“That’s impossible!” Tanya said.
“Is it, Mother? That week you were in the clinic, Maurice came up to the school and brought me to Paris to see you. But he never took me to the clinic. Instead I spent the week in his apartment and on the day you came home, I went back to school.”
“Maurice?” There was a note of incredulity in Tanya’s voice. “I can’t believe even he would do that.”
“No, Mother?” Janette opened her small purse and took out a set of keys. She threw them down on the table next to her. “He even gave me a set of keys to the apartment so that I could come back there at Easter.”
Tanya stared down at the keys, then up at her daughter. The tears began to flood into her eyes. “Why didn’t you let me talk to you? Why? I was going to tell you. Maurice is not Lauren’s father. I’ve never let him come near me since the day we were married.”
“You’re lying, Mother,” Janette said.
“I’m not lying,” Tanya said. “One look at your sister and you would know that. Blond and blue-eyed. Why do you think Maurice is suing me for divorce charging adultery? There’s never been a blond blue-eyed child in his family for generations.”
Janette stared at her. “I didn’t know that, Mother. No one ever told me.”
Tanya took a deep breath. She felt as if her insides had turned to stone. “It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “It’s done and can’t be undone. We must make plans for tomorrow. The first thing to do is to see Doctor Pierre.”
Suddenly the tears sprang into Janette’s eyes. “Oh, Mother,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”
Then they were in each other’s arms, their tears running down each other’s cheeks. For a long while they stood there, clinging together without words until the daylight had faded from the windows.
***
Two days later, Tanya waited in the small office of Dr. Pierre until he came from the operating room of his clinic. She rose to her feet as he entered. “How is she, Doctor Pierre?”
“She’ll be all right,” he said. “It’s all taken care of. She’s resting now.”
“Thank God,” she said.
“Yes, thank God,” he said solemnly. “If she had had the baby she would have died.”
Tanya stared at him.
Dr. Pierre shook his head. “I don’t know what kind of an animal she was with but she was all torn apart inside. He must have used a battering ram on her. Not only were the vagina and tubes torn apart but her anus and part of her bowel were ripped. I couldn’t believe it.” He looked into Tanya’s eyes. “I repaired her as best I could. At least she won’t have any problems from it.” He paused, letting out a deep breath.
“There’s something else you’re not telling me,” she said in a tense voice.
He hesitated a moment. “Janette will never be able to have a child,” he said. “I had to remove all but a part of one ovary.”
***
It was two o’clock in the morning, exactly ten days later, the day after Janette had returned to school, that Tanya parked the small car in the street in front of the apartment building on the Ile Saint-Louis. The street was deserted as she got out of the car. Automatically she locked it, putting the car keys in her purse, at the same time taking out the keys to the apartment. She looked up at the building. All the windows were dark. Slowly she made her way to the outside door.
It was the big key, always the big key for the street door. It turned easily, sliding back the bolt, and she stepped into the dark hallway. She had to stop herself from reaching for the hallway lights automatically. One thing she didn’t want was to call attention to herself. She waited a moment until her eyes became used to the darkness, then moved toward the elevator.
The noise the old creaking elevator made as it ascended seemed loud enough in her ears to wake up all Paris. She held her breath until finally it came to a stop. Then, with a feeling of relief, she stepped out. There were two apartments to a flo
or. She hesitated a moment, then struck a match. There it was. A small brass plate over the doorbell. Le Marquis de la Beauville.
She closed her eyes for a moment and thought. Was there anything she had forgotten? Her will had been properly signed and executed. The instructions to the Swiss bank regarding the vault in which the gold was kept had been received and acknowledged. If something should happen to her, Joann would take care of everything. The children would be protected.
The first key made no sound as she turned it slowly. She heard the faint click of the bolt. Good. Now for the second key. It squeaked faintly. She stopped. There was no other sound. She turned the key the rest of the way slowly. It clicked and the door swung open slowly.
She took a tentative step into the apartment, then stopped, listening. There was no sound. Quietly she shut the door behind her. Now she waited, while she got her bearings.
She tried to remember what Janette had told her about the apartment. Straight ahead through the big archway would be the living room. To the right, a small door led to the service entrance and the kitchen. Beyond the living room through another smaller arch would be the dining room. Maurice’s bedroom was through a door on the far end of the dining room.
Carefully she moved through the rooms, moving slowly so that she would not stumble against an unseen piece of furniture. Now she was in front of the door to the bedroom. She opened her purse again and took out the razor. It was only right that it should be Wolfgang’s razor. There was no doubt in her mind now that it had been Maurice who betrayed him to the Russians.
She opened the razor so that the cutting edge faced outward away from her hand and turned the doorknob softly. The door swung open and she stepped into the room, moving softly on the carpeted floor. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her.
She could see the bed in the faint luminescence that filtered through the draperies from the streetlights outside. She walked toward the bed. She sensed, rather than saw, the huddled mass beneath the blanket. She paused over him, looking down, trying to see him. The heavy sound of breathing came to her eyes but she did not know whether it was his or her own. “Maurice!” she said softly.
Goodbye, Janette Page 10