Chapter 28 Chapter Twenty Seven

Paul and Flick were chatting. They lay side by side on the bed.The lights in the house were dark, but the moon shone in through the window.He was naked, as he had been when she entered the room.He always slept naked, wearing only his pajamas when he walked down the hall to the bathroom. He was asleep when she came in, but he woke up immediately, rolled over and jumped out of bed, his subconscious mind determined that if anyone visited in the middle of the night, it must be the Gestapo.He put his hands around her neck before realizing who it was. He was greatly surprised, excited and grateful.He closed the door and kissed her, and stood there for a long time.He was unprepared, everything seemed to be in a dream.He was so afraid he would wake up.

She touched him, felt his shoulders, his back, his chest.Her hands are soft, but her touch is firm, as if exploring something. "You have so much hair," she whispered. "Like an ape." "But not that handsome," she teased. He looked at her lips, liked the way they moved when she spoke, and thought he would touch them with his own in no time, feeling love.He smiled and said, "Let's lie down." They were lying face to face on the bed, but she hadn't taken off any of her clothes, not even her shoes.Lying naked with a heavily clothed woman gave him a strange excitement.He relishes the feeling of not having to rush to the next base and wants the moment to last forever.

"Tell me something," she said in a lazy, sexy voice. "Say what?" "Anything. I don't think I know you." What's going on here?He had never dated a girl like this.She came to his room at night, lying on his bed with her clothes on, and began questioning him. "That's why you're here?" he asked cheerfully, looking into her face, "to interrogate me?" She smiled softly. "Don't worry, I want to have sex with you, but don't rush. Tell me about your first love." He gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips, following the curve of her jaw.He didn't know what she wanted, where her mind had gone.She confuses him. "Can we touch each other and talk at the same time?"

"Can." He kisses her on the lips. "Can I kiss too?" "Can." "Then I think we should talk for a while, maybe a year or two." "what is her name?" Flick wasn't as confident as she pretended, he thought.In fact she was very nervous, which is why she asked these questions.If it made her feel comfortable, he would reply: "Her name is Linda. We were so young at the time--I'm ashamed to say how young we were. The first time I kissed her, she was twelve years old." , I am only fourteen years old, can you imagine?" "Of course." She giggled, and in an instant she was a girl again. "I kissed boys when I was twelve."

"We kept pretending to go out with a bunch of friends, usually we did that at night, but then we got rid of other people right away, went to the cinema or something, and we did that for a few years before we started having real sex." "Is it in America?" "In Paris, my father was the military attache at the embassy. Linda's parents had a hotel that catered to American tourists. We always played with a large group of foreign children." "Where did you make love?" "In a hotel. It's easy. There are lots of empty rooms." "What was it like the first time? Did you guys take any precautions?"

"She stole one of those rubber things from her father." Flick's fingertips slid down his belly.He closed his eyes.She said, "Who put it on?" "It was her. That was very exciting. I came out almost immediately. If you're not careful..." She moved her hand to his hip and said, "I wish I had known you when you were sixteen." He opened his eyes.He didn't want this moment to last forever anymore.In fact, he found himself eager to move on. "Can you..." His lips were dry and he could only swallow, "Can you take off some clothes?"

"Yes, but as a precaution..." "It's in my wallet, on the bedside table." "Okay." She sat up straight, took off her shoes, threw them on the floor, then stood up and unbuttoned her blouse.He could see she was nervous, so he said, "Don't worry, we have all night." It had been years since Paul had seen a woman undress.He lived a life of sobriety, accompanied only by posters on the walls of sensual girls, always in elaborate silks and lace, with corsets, garter belts and sheer pajamas.Flick was wearing a loose cotton petticoat and no bra, and the shape looming under the underwear made him anxious. He thought that these small and elegant breasts might not need support.She takes off her skirt.Her panties were pure calico with ruffles around her thighs.Her body is petite but muscular.She was like a school girl getting dressed for hockey, but he thought it was sexier than the girl on the wall.

She lay down again. "Is this better?" she said. He stroked her hip, feeling warm skin, then cotton, then skin again.He found that she was not ready yet.He forced himself to be patient and let her master the pace. "You haven't told me about your first time yet," he said. To his surprise, she was shy. "Not as good as you guys." "Which way?" "In a dreadful place, in a dusty warehouse." He was indignant.What idiot could convince a girl as special as Flick to follow him into a closet and hurry? "How old were you then?" "twenty two."

He thought she would say seventeen. "Jesus. At that age, you should be comfortable in bed." "It's not quite right." She relaxed again, Paul could feel it, and he encouraged her to talk more: "So, what's wrong?" "Probably I didn't want to do it. I was persuaded to do it." "Don't you love that person?" "No, I love it. But I'm not ready." "What's his name?" "I do not want to tell you." Paul guessed it was her husband, Michelle, and decided not to ask further questions.He kissed her and said, "Can I touch your tits?"

"Touch anywhere you want." No one ever said anything like that to him.He was surprised and excited by her openness.He began to probe her body.According to his experience, most women would close their eyes at this time, but she opened them, examining his face with anticipation and curiosity, which aroused the desire in his heart even more.It was as if she could detect him by looking at him without any other means.His hands explored the light shape of her breasts, and with his fingers he felt her shy nipples, knowing what they looked like.He took off her panties, where the hair was curly, honey-colored, dense, and beneath it on the left side, there was a birthmark like a splash of tea.He bent down to kiss the spot, his lips brushed crisply by the body hair, his tongue savoring where she was wet.

He sensed that she was beginning to savor pleasure.Her nervousness melted away.Her limbs were stretched out, loose and indulgent, but her hips were pressing eagerly towards him.He explored the creases of her private parts, slowly getting excited.Her movements became more urgent. She pushed his head aside.She was flushed and breathing heavily.She moved to the side of the bedside table, opened his wallet, and found the rubber sleeves, three of them in a small paper packet.She fumbled to tear open the paper bag, took out one and put it on for him.Then she straddled him and made him lie on his back.She leaned down and kissed him, and said into his ear, "Baby, you'll be so comfortable inside me." Then she sat upright and began to move. "Take off your underwear," he said. She takes it off her head. He looked up at her, the intense expression gathering on her lovely face, her beautiful breasts bobbing up and down merrily.He considers himself the luckiest man in the world.He wanted it to go on like this forever, no dawn, no tomorrow, no planes, no parachutes, no wars. In the whole of life, he thought, there was nothing better than love. After everything was over, the first thought in Flick's mind was: What should I tell Michelle? She was not unhappy.She is full of love and longing for Paul.For a moment she felt more intimate with him than with Michel.She wanted to have sex with him every day for the rest of her life.This can be troublesome.Her marriage is over.She should have told Michelle as soon as she saw him.She couldn't pretend, couldn't pretend she had such intense feelings for Michelle, not even for a few minutes. Michelle was the only man she had ever had an intimate relationship with before Paul.She should have told Paul this, but talking about Michelle made her feel disloyal.This is more like a betrayal than simple adultery.Someday she would tell Paul that he was only her second lover, she might say he was her favorite, but she would never talk to him about her sex with Michelle. However, this time with Paul is not just different in sex, the difference is also in herself.She had never asked Michel the way she had asked Paul, about his past sexual experiences.She never said to him "you can touch anywhere you want".She had never put a condom on him, never had sex on him, and never told him he would be comfortable inside her. As she lay next to Paul in bed, another personality came over her, just as Mark had changed when he walked into the Cross nightclub.She suddenly felt that she could say whatever she wanted, how she liked, as long as she wanted, and she didn't have to worry about what others would think of her. It was never like that with Michelle.Ever since he was his student, Flick had been intent on impressing him, but had never really gotten along with him, or even established a solid relationship.She had always sought his approval, and he had never done that to her.In bed, she tries to please him instead of pleasing herself. After a while, Paul said, "What are you thinking?" "I was thinking about my marriage," she said. "What do you think about it?" She didn't know how much she should confess to him.He had told her that night that he wanted to marry her, but not before she came into his bedroom.There is a saying among women that men will never marry a girl who offers to sleep with them.From Flick's and Michel's experience, this is not always true.But she decided to tell Paul half the truth anyway. "It's over." "A very decisive decision." She lifted herself up on her elbows and looked at him. "Do you find it troublesome?" "On the contrary. I hope that means we can see each other again." "Are you serious?" He put his arms around her and said, "I'm afraid to tell you how serious I am." "Fear?" "I'm afraid the stupid things I said earlier will scare you away." "Say you're going to marry me, have a baby or something?" "I'm telling the truth, but the way it's done is so arrogant." "It's okay," she said, "if everyone is polite, it means no one really cares about each other. It's clumsy, but maybe it's more sincere." "I think you're right. I don't think so." She stroked his face.She could see the neat stubble, and felt that the light of dawn was getting stronger little by little.She forced herself not to look at her watch, she didn't want to check how much time they had left over and over again. She ran her fingers over his face, tracing his features with her fingertips—his bushy eyebrows, deep eye sockets, a big nose, bullet-missed ears, sexy lips, jutting chin. "Do you have hot water here?" she asked suddenly. "Yes, this is a deluxe room. The sink is in the corner." she got up. He asked: "What are you going to do?" "You stay still." She walked barefoot on the floor, feeling him looking at her naked body, wishing she didn't look as wide as a full hip.On the shelf above the sink was a cup containing toothpaste and a wooden toothbrush, which she recognized as French.Beside the glass are a safety razor, a brush and a bowl of shaving soap.She turned on the hot water, dipped the shaving brush in it, and worked some lather into his soap bowl. "What the hell are you doing?" he said. "I'm going to shave you." "why?" "You'll find out after a while." She lathered his face, then took his safety razor and filled the toothbrush cup with hot water.She straddled him as she had done during sex and began to shave him in careful strokes. "How did you learn to do this?" he asked. "Don't talk," she said. "I've seen my mother shave my father. I've seen it many times. My father was an alcoholic, and when he couldn't hold a razor, my mother would shave him every day. Chin lifted. stand up." He lifted his head obediently, and she scraped the sensitive skin of his throat clean.When she was done, she wiped his face clean with a flannel washcloth soaked in hot water, then toweled him dry. "I should get you some face cream, but I don't think a man like you would use it." "It never occurred to me to use that thing." "It doesn't matter." "What's next?" "Remember what you were doing before I went to get your wallet?" "Remember." "Then do you know why I didn't let you continue?" "I thought you were in a hurry to...fuck." "No, it's your stubble that makes the base of my thigh itchy, where the skin is the most delicate." "Ah, I'm sorry then." "Okay, now you can make it up to me." He frowned and asked, "How to compensate?" She sighed in feigned disappointment. "Come on, my Einstein. Now your beard is gone..." "Ah - got it! That's why you shave me? Well, of course. You want me to..." She lay on her back, with a smile on her face, and spread her legs: "Is this hint enough?" He chuckled. "I think that's enough," he said, leaning down. She closed her eyes.