Chapter 7

Was this body the same body she'd been born in – the same body she brought into Chicago? Or, more recently, the same body she lived in when she first rang the doorbell of this villa?

Lying in her bathtub Juliana Austin wondered who she was – or rather who she would end up being. Her right hand caressed her leg under the foamy surface of perfumed water. It travelled from the hollow of her knee around her thigh and up to her crotch, feeling the folds there – baby bare, swollen and tender to the touch. She went up over her belly and felt her sensitive nipples. She shuddered when she touched one.

Juliana knew she was changing – her mind as much as her body. At times it felt scary, but to be honest, she wondered if she really wanted things to have stayed as they were. She'd never been happy with who she was – her shyness and shame had frustrated her, as had her mousy appearance. She'd been ignorant of so many things – unaware of the thrills she kept feeling these last days. People might call them wrong, but it was the sweetest wrongness she'd ever felt.

After she'd returned to her room, Mei had urged her to clean up and dress, as she would be picked up for a dinner date.

"A date?" Juliana asked; the Asian girl's English wasn't always intelligible.

"Yes, for dinner, outside," Mei said, pushing her into the bathroom to take a shower.

When she came out, toweling her hair, she saw the evening gown spread out on the bed. It looked delicate. It also looked thin and low-cut. She picked it up and held it against her naked body, watching herself in the dressing mirror.

"Who's taking me to dinner, Mei?" she asked, turning left and right a bit.

"Gentleman," Mei said, being busy at the make up table. "Come on – have no time!"

A limousine arrived to pick up Juliana. She'd seen limousines, but never been in one. Feeling quite self-conscious she walked across the pebble-stoned driveway on her high heels. Beside her thong, the flimsy gown was all she wore; the balmy evening breeze pressed it against her skin. By the car stood a huge black driver; he held a door open for her, smiling his teeth bare.

"Good evening, Miss," he said.

The seat was an expanse of soft leather; it sighed under her weight when she sat down. She was the only passenger. The car's wheels crunched the pebbles when it drove down the driveway, but the motor hardly made a sound. Juliana looked out of the tinted window, seeing the villa's entrance fall away. Had it really only been days since she stood there, ringing that doorbell? The setting sun streaked the sky with copper and orange. She sighed; her throat choked on the overwhelming sense of luxury.

The place the driver took her was close to the lake. It looked like a big Victorian house. A valet hurried to welcome her. He opened the car's door and ushered her up a few steps and into the building. 'Cinderella, ' she thought, as colorful images from her childhood's fairytale dreams danced around her head. They lifted her spirit, making her blush and smile.

A man waited for her beside a table in the splendid dining room. He wasn't a prince. He wasn't even young or handsome, although he was tall and his full head of hair shone with distinguished silver. He also wore a tuxedo and he smiled. Taking her hand he kissed her fingers, while his eyes roamed her body from her face down to her painted toes. Juliana's nipples tightened. She wondered what it was with men lately. They made her believe that they really saw her. She still blushed and smiled as she sat down on the chair the man had pulled out for her.

"I'm so glad you came, Mrs. Austin," he said, after siting down himself. "I've heard wonderful things about you. By the way, I am Charles Brunswick, but please call me Chuck – all people I appreciate do." She smiled and offered her hand; he took it into both of his.

"Hello Chuck," she said. "My name is Juliana. Thank you for the invitation. This is a lovely place."

She watched the big man; he beamed like a schoolboy. So he'd heard 'wonderful things' about her he said? She wondered what things they might be, and who might have told him – Charrier, no doubt, or one of the others. It wasn't hard to imagine the nature of their recommendation. Maybe that should embarrass her, but it didn't. It would have, only days ago. What she now felt was just an amorphous mixture of contradictory emotions, muffled by a layer of excitement.

The man ordered food and drinks. He did so without consulting Juliana. She didn't mind.

The champagne was just as titillating as it had been the first time. The bubbles tickling her mouth made her want to smile and not stop smiling. She decided to like the man. She also decided she liked being with him in this posh restaurant, sitting at this luxurious table in her sexy, but classy, nothing of a dress.

When the first course came, it was raw oysters. Juliana had never seen oysters, let alone eaten them. She said so and giggled, blushing. It brought a wide smile to his face and he once more took her hand in both of his.

"Dear Mrs. Austin," he said. "How it enjoys me to offer you this delight as a first. At the same time I envy you for it. It is thrilling, you know – and unrepeatable; a virgin moment. Please allow me to be the one to feed you the first oyster of your life!" They both chuckled, and Juliana closed her eyes while opening her mouth wide – like a little bird.

It made her feel vulnerable – not knowing what would be put in her mouth, or when. She was giving up control. But wasn't that a moot point? She shrugged mentally. She realized that she had no control whatever she did, so why pretend?

The sudden insight made her shiver. A second one hit her spine when a cold, wet object slithered across her tongue. The double sensation went straight to her crotch. She closed her mouth over the morsel and sucked. The taste was salty, like the sea she imagined but had never seen. It also touched a recent memory when the tangy moisture ran down her throat. It gave her another shiver.

"You like it," her table companion said. There was no question in it. "It makes you look so sexy."

Juliana opened her eyes, swallowed the oyster and smiled.

"I love it."

He fed her five more oysters. She swallowed them all, thanking him after each morsel, taking small sips of champagne. The waiter refilled her glass and she drank some more. She didn't care what might happen. She knew there was a real world, somewhere. But she also knew she wasn't in it.

The man, Chuck, asked her to feed him his last oyster and she did, tipping the shell and watching the grayish creature slide off its shallow bed into the darkness of his mouth. He swallowed and smacked his lips in a most uncivilized way. They laughed and drank.

"I have a short note for you from a mutual friend," he said, searching an inner pocket of his tuxedo. He produced a white envelope and handed it to her.

"Oh," she said. "Exciting."

"Read it out loud to me, please," he said.

Opening the folded piece of paper inside, she let her eyes fly over the few lines. Then she blushed.

"I ... I don't know if I ... I mean right here... , " she muttered. The man's smile tightened.

"If I'm correct, Mrs. Austin," he said, "the content of that little note doesn't really allow you not to read it out to me, if I insist." His smile returned at once.

Juliana cleared her throat.

"Dearest Mrs. Austin," she read, her blush intensifying. "I'm sure my good friend Chuck Brunswick is every inch the gentleman I know him to be." She looked up, watching Brunswick's smile growing into something quite self-satisfied – or did she just see that?

"For you that might be a comforting thought, as I have promised Chuck he can use you however he likes – short of physically hurting you, of course."

She saw the man nod when she looked up from the letter. To Juliana his friendliness was harder to find under what she considered smugness now. 'However he likes' indeed, she mused.

"Please go on, Mrs. Austin," Brunswick said, picking up his glass. "There must be more."

"I know you won't let me down," Juliana read on, her voice less steady. "I also know you need this distraction on the very night your husband is fighting for his life."

Reality poured iced water over Juliana Austin. Since she walked over to the limousine she hadn't thought of her husband – not for a second. She'd let herself drown in luxury and girly princess fantasies while his skull was being lifted. She had squirmed in a sweet cocoon of sensuality while her husband might be dying already.

Tears welled up in her eyes; her lips trembled. She looked over at the man, but didn't see him.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Austin?" he asked. His voice was far away. She nodded; a tear trickled down her face.

"Then please read on."

Juliana sniffed. Her eyes tried to focus on the letter.

"But don't worry about him," she read on. "He's in good hands – the best. As long as you assure me that my good friend is in the best of hands too."

Her last words petered out into a whisper. Looking up she saw the man's face was beaming more than ever. He squeezed her hand.

"The best," he said. "I can believe that. And the best mouth?" She knew her face was beet red. The letter fell from her hand on her plate.

"I... , " she said. "I think I have to go to..."

She pushed back the chair, but Brunswick didn't let go of her hand.

"I can see I embarrassed you," he said. "Please forgive me."

Juliana ran to the toilets, having to ask twice for directions.

Sitting in one of the luxurious stalls she held her head in both hands, listening to her pounding heart. She tried to silence the storm in her skull. She'd been a prisoner all her young life. It was the reason she ran to find freedom – or something close enough that wouldn't scare her.

Before even being sure she'd found it, she'd fallen in love and married. Marriage to Alec Austin surely wasn't prison, was it? He was a sweet man. Maybe not a strong, self-assured man like the ones she'd met at the villa, but he was the man she loved; he cared for her. Alec wasn't the cause she was here, a prisoner of dilemmas, was he? He didn't even know. But nevertheless, here she was, handed to a man by another man – pushed to give him pleasure in order to save her husband; the husband whose life was right now in the hands of the man renting her out.

"Renting me out," she murmured. Then she sighed a long and fluttering sigh.

Juliana sat up straight. The storm abated; it was replaced by an eerie calm. She rose and straightened her dress. It was a scandalous dress, but it was also beautiful. She wondered why she'd fled. What was the point? Was she asked to perform anything different from what she'd already done before? She opened the stall and walked over to a mirror. Her legs felt weak. Thank God she was alone. She looked at her reflection and saw a raccoon, her eyes circled with the wash of her mascara.

She cleaned her face and repaired the damage.

"Juliana," she said. "Grow up, will you?" Then she took her clutch and walked to the door. The breeze of the air conditioning made her flimsy dress fondle her body.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Austin? You had me worried."

Brunswick stood by her chair when Juliana reached their table. She'd meandered through the vast dining room, keeping her eyes on him. Quite a few new people had arrived; she felt eyes on her as she balanced on her stilettos; it made her feel even more exposed. She never looked up until she came to her chair. Forcing a smile she sat down. Charrier's letter still lay face down on her plate. She picked it up and scanned its content.

"That was about it," she said, folding the piece of paper and returning it to its envelope. Brunswick was back in his chair across from her. She handed him the letter; he placed it next to his napkin. The waiter refilled their glasses.

Juliana knew she would end up very drunk if they kept up this pace. She didn't care. It might help her enjoy the dinner and do her duty afterwards. Would he take her to a room here – or maybe at a hotel? She cursed the heat building in her crotch; her nipples must show. Raising her glass she produced a dazzling smile.

"To us," she said.

A small salad followed the oysters. There was crab in it, prawns, and a dressing that tasted delicious. The waiter came over with a new bottle. It looked dusty. He showed it to Brunswick, who studied the label and nodded. Juliana watched how the waiter skillfully removed the lead cap, drilled the opener into the cork and pulled it out with a plop. He smelled the cork and then poured a bottom of red wine into a crystal glass in front of her table companion. Brunswick made a show of picking it up; he let the red liquid waltz around in it, making it sparkle with the candlelight. Then he put his nose into it, inhaling the scent. At last he took a sip, closing his eyes and letting the wine swirl inside his mouth. He pouted his lips and smacked. After swallowing he kept his eyes closed for seconds before opening them and smiling.

"Excellent," he said. Juliana giggled.

They toasted yet again. The wine was full and exotic. It seemed to trigger a different sensation at different places in her mouth. After swallowing, a wonderful taste lingered – like an echo.

"You like it?" Brunswick asked, studying her intensely. She nodded and smiled.

"It is delicious," she assured him. "I never tasted anything like it." He smiled at that.

"Ah yes," he said. "A fifteen year-old Chateau Margaux might do that to you. Now please remove the tiny strap on your left shoulder and show me your breast, Mrs. Austin. Its nipple has been teasing me all night." His eyes were calm; his voice sounded as if he'd just asked to hand him the salt.

Juliana swallowed and put down her glass. She looked around. The dining room was quite full now, but nobody seemed to watch them. Her gaze returned to Brunswick. He smiled, of course, and nodded his head in encouragement. The skin of her face was aflame as her fingers reached for the strap. Pushing the narrow strip down was maybe the most conscious thing she ever did. She felt it slide over her clavicle and shoulder bone, her manicured fingernails gently scratching her skin. When the strap at last fell off her shoulder, part of the top followed. For a fraction of a second the thin fabric clung to her long nipple before the tremor of her breath made it slide down further.

Juliana didn't raise her eyes. She just sat there, blushing deeply. A cool breeze kissed her exposed breast; a chuckle penetrated the buzz in her head.

"It's so tiny," Brunswick said. Was he mocking her? He must be, though his voice was friendly. She closed her eyes. Then she felt fingers graze her nipple, making it ache. A moan escaped her lips, too quick to keep back. There was another chuckle – and the sound of someone clearing his throat. Two voices? Her eyes flew open and up. Next to Brunswick stood the waiter. He bent over to Brunswick's ear, whispering. Brunswick's face suddenly turned serious, looking up at the waiter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. "But, you know, one always tries to indulge the idiosyncrasies of a female."

The waiter rubbed his hands. He never smiled as he added a murmured comment she couldn't understand. Brunswick frowned.

"I see, good man!" he boomed. "And of course you're right – a fine establishment like this. But you see, she has this sluttish urge to, well, expose herself in public. How does one call it? Exhibitionism yes. She is an exhibitionist – can't help it I guess."

The waiter turned his eyes to Juliana, shaking his head in mild disgust. What's the phrase again? The earth opened under her – yes, it did. But she couldn't bring herself to reach for the strap and cover herself up again. She was paralyzed.

"God, woman!" Brunswick exclaimed. "You are really shameless, aren't you? Now cover up your tit, dammit!"