The Labyrinth of Passion (romantic experiences)

by Charles Westmont

  In the early evening, she was at the downtown perfume shop testing fragrances. “This is the one,” she exclaimed joyously, brandishing the Giorgio tester from under her nose. After many months of assiduous shooting practices in Montbasillac, she won the South West junior target competition. On award night, she came to kiss her teacher, softly on the cheek. She could see the pride in his eyes. She stopped him when he began his congratulations and placed a beautifully wrapped gift package in his hands.

  “You shouldn’t have…” he said and proceeded to unwrap the gift. “My favorite fragrance, how did you know?” Opening the box, he was surprised to find a bottle of Giorgio three quarters full. Dissimulating a look of surprise, he grabbed her in his arms, kissing her on both cheeks. She grabbed his hands in hers fondly. “I will love you forever, you were the greatest of teachers.” She turned away barely repressing the faint smirk at the thought of all the exciting moments that she gave herself, spraying the missing perfume on her pillow and pressing her naked body in the arms of an officer in full uniform, but strangely…headless.

  A touch of mysticism

  Justine could see herself floating around the cupola of the large chapel during Sunday school at St Catherine. The church was built in the 12th century, but was destroyed in 1577 by the Protestants. It is famous for the cupola that remains from the original church, and was rebuilt uniquely on two thick ceiling joists and two big lateral arches. The parish priest had to summon all his eloquence to keep the attention of these late adolescents, yawning helplessly at his fables from the bible. Justine’s attention had escaped his discourse many months before, at the very first lesson about the angels. To this day, every Sunday morning, bored from Monsieur le Curé’s first word, she would float over the class with the angels, rocked by the music of the priest’s deep voice. On second thoughts, today she found his voice quite sexy. She did not pay attention to the words, but found herself aroused and his smile became more appealing, when he invited her to the sacristy. “Justine, I must reward you for your devotion and attention at Sunday school. You are always the last to leave the church.”

  They were alone. Justine was captured by his pleasant smile and his long dark tunic. He was holding both her arms, his fingers pressing gently. “You are the chosen one. I have a lot of confidence in your discretion and I will share with you a big secret. I will allow you the unique responsibility to give me pleasure, for the glory of God.” Justine was practically in shock when she found herself crouching, her long body folded, completely hidden, under Monsieur le Curé’s long tunic. The smell was not bad. Despite the darkness, she could see that he was naked. He pressed her head to his crotch. She felt his small penis gaining in importance, certainly calling for attention. She began fondling his organ, stroking gently at first. She was not entirely conscious that her excitement made her more and more aggressive at her labor. She heard the voice of a woman entering the sacristy and froze still.

  “That will be all Mademoiselle Raynaud, give my blessings to you dear parents. I will see you next Wednesday.” The door closed and she felt his hands running over his tunic in search of something. He was holding her head, pressing her face against his damp crotch. She slowly opened her lips and engulfed his trembling organ in her mouth, sucking until the sweet liquid flowed in spurts down her throat.

  “Justine, my dear, you are in a daze! What is a young woman like you doing, sleeping during my sermon and sucking her thumb in church?” Monsieur le Curé did not have time to say another word as Justine, in full flight, was already arriving at home.

  The first and last public concert

  Sleep was evading Justine at this late hour of the night. She was on her bed, attempting to cope with the discomfort of the damp and warm August night. She had been crying for hours and her tears had not relieved the deep rage that had invaded her heart at the concert earlier that evening. She remembered lying in that same position last night, reviewing in her mind the partition of the Pathetique. All the long years with Madame Ouvrant, after repetitions after repetitions she was, at long last, ready for her first public performance at the Bordeaux Concert Hall. The notes were flowing in her mind one by one, with all the intonations and rhythmic demands leading her fingers.

  Mitridate, the large calico, was lying on her pillow, sharing the sound and pulse of her mind, caressing the side of her face with its tale. Justine’s innate affection for animals was special with cats. With the help of her sisters, every stray cat that they found became a permanent houseguest. Maman shared their love and kindness of heart, and she adopted every single one of them. Mitridate was Justine’s favorite. She could not have enough of its presence. Contrary to the other felines, who would enjoy a brief caress and retire to sleep all day, Mitridate would stick to Justine’s side when she arrived at home and would remain glued to her until her departure the following morning.

  Justine always made a hand available, to give Mitridate a favorite caress on the stomach. A strange passion had developed between them and occasionally Mitridate would lay on its back his four legs outstretched pleading. One day, she noticed the little bit of red flesh protruding between his wide opened hind legs. She touched the unexpected guess with the tip of her finger and Mitridate began to meow softly, wiggling his body. She took the little uninvited guests between her fingers and began rolling the damp skin between her thumb and her index. Mitridate increased his languorous love chant and sway. She felt the penis grow in her hand, “How strange! I never expected a cat to have such a penis,” she thought, licking her fingers and getting more and more taken at the game. But tonight her thoughts were elsewhere and she did not respond to Mitridate’s advances.

  “I never thought that he could be so cruel.” Wilson had offered to make a recording of her concert. She had left for Bordeaux with her piano teacher ahead of the family, but Wilson had promised to be there on time.

  “Your turn soon my darling,” said Madame Ouvrant. Justine was adjusting the strapless ball gown that Maman had purchased at Givenchy for the event. Her attention however, was focused on the back of the stage where Wilson was nowhere to be seen. She heard the applause, rewarding Christian’s flawless performance of the Grand Polonaise. She then finally saw Wilson carrying the recorder and wearing that special look that she had witnessed on so many occasions, after she had seen him consume a small pack of beer. She felt her arm being pulled toward the curtain. “Good luck, my angel,” said Madame Ouvrant. Justine came to the stage to the applause of the audience. She began to recuperate her composure and concentration. After a courteous bow, her agile fingers began dancing on the keyboard, but the distraction of his pathetic struggle with the microphone could not escape the corner of her eye. Then, when she began the second movement, the loud noise of the poorly adjusted microphone feedback echoed in the concert hall. Her fingers froze and her mind lost all control of their mission. She stood red faced and bowed nervously to the audience then ran backstage. The grand concert hall was totally silent. She did not notice the applause arising when she left through the back door. She stood for a long moment outside against the brick wall, her tears of rage and shame mixing with the warm raindrops. “I will never talk to that idiot again. I hope he dies. I will throw him out of our home.” She had been crying those same words again and again for hours since she had left Bordeaux, but it did not sooth her anger.

  Djerba

  The vacation on the sunny island of Djerba was the perfect answer. Djerba, a large island off the coast of Tunisia, was the legendary home to the Mermaids. Ulysses had escaped their sorcery with great difficulty when he was stranded on his Odyssey around the Mediterranean Sea. Catherine, while on vacation with her father in her youth, had immensely enjoyed the Maman-won trip to Tunisia and decided that the girls deserved a reward for their academic successes. She’d enjoyed the archaeological sites and the Punic and Roman villas in the area and was looking forward to revisiting the sights with her daughters.

  A mild rainfall welcomed their arrival. The island g
enerally covered with a Sahara orange golden carpet, sparingly assorted with dark green spots of oasis of palm trees, had dressed for their arrival in a light green coat covering the desert as far as one could see. The three sisters, accompanied by Tutu and Maman, jumped in the cab on the way to Club Méditerranée. Mimi and Justine had been giggling throughout the whole flight. “Michele, my schoolmate at Harvard, was quite explicit about her experience with the Club Med GOs, short for Gentils Organisateurs. They are so courteous, and always available to organize sporting and tourist activities. She warned me to be quite alert for their extracurricular performances, which in her words are worth the price of the entire package.” Mimi had described some of her friend’s experiences with mouthwatering details. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing shortly at the Djerba Paradise airport. Please fasten your seat belts and place your hand luggage securely under the seat in front of you.” The announcement interrupted their joyous chatting.

  After unpacking, Justine was sitting alone at the end of the quay, when she saw a large, squelettic insect, its tail curled over a repulsive white body. The insect was climbing between the planks, coming in her direction. She jumped to her feet, mouthing a loud scream. The newcomer was probably more frightened than she was though. The insect ran away from her and lost its footing. It fell in the water, sinking to the bottom. She looked at it disappear in the gentle swell of the early evening tide.

  “You will never meet this one again,” said the tanned, handsome Adonis who was boasting a broad smile assorted with a full display of white teeth. “I am Pierre, your GO, at your service. Do not fear these annoying scorpions. To my knowledge, they never attack humans. One wonders why they come so close to the water though. This one fell and drowned immediately. Their bodies cannot float and they cannot breathe under water.”

  Justine could not make up her mind. Did she enjoy the free lessons of biology more than the professor? One of the subjects was certainly more exciting than the other. The choice may be easy, she said to herself on the way back to the cabin.

  “I met this GO,” Mimi was chatting with Justine after diner. They were on the balcony hypnotized by the full moon reflecting over the dark ocean. “I tell you Justine, I will make good use and enjoy this toy. You know, sister, this is just the right spicing for this vacation.” A broad smirk punctuated Mimi’s statement. Justine stood. “I will have a peek at the disco, but I am quite tired and will soon be in bed. Good night, sister!” Justine walked toward the discotheque. She did not even get to the dance floor, and after 20 minutes standing near the door in observation, she decided that she had enough for a first day. She turned around and left. Fascinated by the eerie illumination of the moonlight, she took the long way home, rounding the GO’s sport shed. She was approaching the water when she heard voices. She stopped to listen. The voices were coming from inside the shed. She could distinguish a slight moaning, muffled by the gentle break of the waves. Her curiosity led her feet toward the open widow. A quick look revealed Mimi on all fours, the object of a vigorous pumping by Pierre the GO. Mimi appeared completely taken by pleasure, and her eyes were shut tight. She was piling up orgasms. Justine lifted her eyes to see Pierre smiling at her, while his hands grabbed and twisted the flesh of Mimi’s generous ass. Stimulated by the new observer, Pierre was assorting his play with gentle little slaps. Mimi was moaning with pleasure. Justine locked her eyes on Pierre’s for a moment. She returned his smile, winked and left.

  It was late morning and she was walking back from the nudist beach. Mimi and little sister Romy were determined to boast the best tan on the continent and had lain still for an hour roasting their butts.

  “Justine!” Pierre made it a habit of surprising her from the rear. Not exactly, in the position that she had witnessed with Mimi the night previous but… still from the rear.

  “Hi Pierre!” She welcomed him nonchalantly showing a little indifference.

  “You cannot be jealous, are you? Why don’t you come with me? I am going scuba diving. It would take a few minutes to teach you the basics. Are you a good swimmer?” She answered. “Swimming is OK, I made the team at university. However, diving might be a problem.”

  After an introduction to the equipment and elementary breathing exercises, he helped her put the gear on and they began to enter the waves.

  “We will remain in the shallow water near the reefs for the first lesson.”

  They had water up to their neck. He adjusted her mask and helped her slide under water. She was surprised that she felt so light after carrying the heavy weight-belt and the bulky oxygen tanks. She had no problem breathing in her mask and the buoyancy made her feel weightless. She was swimming on a cloud. She followed Pierre, moving with ease around the multi colored coral. It had taken all of Justine’s will and attention to keep the GO at bay. Before diving under water, he had taken great pleasure in explaining at length the morphology of coral reefs, while his hands were caressing her thighs.

  They turned a corner and entered a cloud of little red and white fishes. There were thousands of little monsters pressing around her body and nibbling gently. She was pivoting playfully, changing direction, but could not shake them away. She realized that she had lost sight of Pierre. She was now accustomed to the GO’s approaches from the rear, so she was not the least surprised, when she noticed the top of her bikini floating away from her. She began to feel a different kind of nibbling, the gentle rubbing of strange hands fondling her breasts. Daring fingers began dancing around her hardened nipples. All she could feel were hands competing to keep her nipples equally satisfied. She felt a hand slide down, brushing along her stomach and over the weight belt. The fingers were making themselves at home, parting the lips of her chatte. She could feel the occasional finger probing inside her little hole. The hands became more insistent, accelerating in a wild race between her nipples and her wide open thighs. When the fingers began rolling and pressing her love bud, she jolted from his hands, soon exhibiting a shameless orgasm to the audience of the fish. He glanced at her face and realized that she was choking from the excitement. Expertly, he undid her belt and pulled her slowly to the surface. He removed her mask, dropped the bottles and began pulling her on her back towards the shore. She stopped coughing, released his grip and swam to the shore. When she set foot on the beach she could still see Pierre in the distance, busy diving to collect the gear. With a smirk of satisfaction, she opted to leave him to his chores, and walked home.

  Chapter 5 - Return to the sources

  Cairo

  “I am not convinced that you are not too young for such long stay in a foreign country. At nineteen my parents would not even let me out of their sight,” Maman was frowning. They were sitting by themselves in the boarding area of Merignac.

  “You know that you are exaggerating and that you must take into consideration that I will be under the supervision of your friend Lilian.”

  Back from Jerba, Justine had called Lilian. She was most pleased by Justine’s decision and took every precaution to reassure Maman that Justine would be well supervised during her stay in Cairo.

  “Cairo, the capital of Egypt, is the largest city in Africa,” Lilian explained on the flight. It was founded in 969 BC. The city is surrounded by many of the most famous monuments of antiquity, including the Great Sphinx and the Pyramids of Geza.”

  The men were pressing in a tight lane, leaving Justine little room to move forward with her heavy suitcase. “Follow me,” Lilian had walked ahead. She was getting out of sight, swallowed by the unending human mass that seemed to cover every inch of Heliopolis airport arrivals hall. Justine had been amused by the insistent custom agent draped in a white djabella. His high pitched voice seemed to be singing a French operetta. She was conscious of his persistence when his eyes scrutinized her body from hair to toes and the every pages of her virgin passport. There followed the inspection of her luggage and the opening of every little receptacle. Somehow, he did not seem to be interested in the content. He was mostly fo
cused on asking the owner unending questions, probing for explanations. Lilian had waited, but after a while, she began to show her impatience. She summoned the agent. Justine did not understand the exchange in loud Arabic, but the effect was immediate. The little man turned red with embarrassment, intensified by the canvas of his white djabella. He began to replace every item in the suitcase very carefully. He closed the suitcase and insisted on carrying it, escorting Justine out of the custom room.

  Lilian again disappeared from her sight, but this did not disturb Justine the least. She was progressing slowly through the crowd and she was enjoying the most overpowering daydream. She had not noticed many women since her arrival, but the men were in a permanent state of animation. They were moving in place, talking profusely. Their conversations sounded like continual arguments. They wore djabellas of all colors, blending in a giant rainbow adorning the grey airport walls. Most of them were smiling and appeared happy. Justine could feel her clothes cling to her body and pearls of sweat run down her face. Despite the intense heat, the room was emanating a pleasant cloud of musk and incense.

  She felt transported, floating freely in this environment. If little around her was familiar, somehow nothing was particularly surprising. Her mind was erupting with sparks of exotic memories that she could not quite identify. One instant she was riding a white horse, the other, she was feeling the water of a river on her feet. Then, she was lying on a stone table, surrounded by people in tears, a monkey, a cat, a red bird and the white horse were at her side. And then, there were these beautiful faces bending over her, so familiar and yet so strange, offering her smiles intermingled with tears.