Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume Five

by Livia Ellis

  She pulls her hand back and lets me fondle her. My fingers slide inside of her, twirling then separating into a wide V until she starts sighing against my neck. I find her clit and tap it. I have yet to find a woman that doesn’t love this. Renata is a punishing bitch, but she taught me this one.

  Olga presses against me as her body trembles and shakes. She doesn’t scream out or yell in ecstasy. There is sighing and small cries, but they are for me only. This is not a performance. This is my Olga responding to my touch. We are perfect lovers. We know each other so well.

  I’m more than ready to take her up to our room. I don’t want to meet anyone else. I just want us to be alone.

  We shower together and try to get the paint off of her. It’s going to take days.

  When she joins me in bed I put aside the copy of the Odyssey I’ve been reading since I was ten. The noise from the party is enough to drive a crazy man sane. Some idiot starts shouting in the hallway. As much as I don’t want to leave Olga’s warm naked body where it’s taken up the place next to mine, I’m ready to snap.

  I open the door and scream until the two idiots fighting over hash find somewhere else to argue over who has the drugs.

  Olga folds me into her arms when I return to bed.

  We are not staying in this house another night. We’re not. We both need some time after Kyoto. I don’t know what I was thinking. I got too involved. I should have listened to her. I’m never going to make that mistake again.

  Everything is fine now. It’s all fine. The Samurai has a reputation for being odd. I shouldn’t have spent as much time alone with him as I did. No wonder it started to mess with my head.

  I slip on top of her and make love to her like I like to do. As we did when we were alone in my bed back home. Without cameras watching us or with what I do to her scrutinized afterwards by a third party. I just do what comes naturally to both of us. It’s wonderful, lovely, perfect and so very normal and boring. When I move inside of her I feel whole and perfect. When my orgasm passes I kiss her before I pull out. I think I’m asleep the moment I land on my back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Paris Postscript

  I fall in love in Paris. I don’t recognize that I’m in love until later. I fight it for longer than I should. But it is in Paris that I fall in love. I will always think of Olga in Paris whenever fall is fully upon us and the air is unmistakably cold.

  We check into the Georges V and she pays with an unending supply of frequent flyer miles. I don’t believe for a second that she’s paying with frequent flyer miles. I know how these things work. I don’t care. She enjoys these little lies. I let her have them. Besides, we both have stacks of cash from Kyoto and The Vicomte’s party.

  What do we do? We make love often, we go out every night, we sleep late, and I don’t complain when she drags me up and down the Champs Elysees and treats me like a pack mule when she needs someone to carry her shopping bags. I’m not ever going to excuse my parents’ behavior, but I can understand why they enjoyed living their lives like this.

  I probably shouldn’t have asked my mother if they were swingers. That’s really her business. I am certain a lot of those fabulous parties they went to had much in common with the Vicomte’s soiree and the Samurai’s week long bacchanalia. It’s very possible they went to these things and stuck together. After all I enjoyed looking, but only touching Olga at the Vicomte’s.

  Actually this is the sort of thing I should never dwell on.