Chapter 18: Season Six: Annette

The first time I visited Cinema Gance was to see a film starring Gerard Depardieu, another of my cinematic heroes. I noticed an attractive young woman seated in the row in front of me and about three seats to my right, but before I could get a closer look at her the lights dimmed and I watched, entranced, as Gerard Depardieu worked his magic in Les Valseuses, one of his earlier films.

After seeing the film I was having a coffee in the café across the road from the cinema before returning to my hotel room and readying myself for duty at Hotel du Plage at 8pm, when the young woman I had glimpsed in the cinema appeared at my two person table.

“Excuse me, M’sieu, the other tables are full. May I join you?” Her smile embraced me and naturally I invited her to sit – I would have been a fool not to. She was really attractive with a shapely figure enhanced and displayed by the mid-thigh, button through, summer dress she wore. She was something like Madeleine Crozier in colouring, with blonde hair and blue eyes, although the girl – young woman – in front of me had blue-grey eyes rather than Madeleine’s agate blue, and there were a number of sun bleached light brown tresses in her collar length honey blonde hair. She ordered a pot of coffee that she insisted I share and introduced herself as Annette Delacroix. I estimated her to be in her late twenties, and her accent proclaimed her to be a Parisian, although occasionally I heard a slight trace of a regional accent that I couldn’t quite place. We shared an instant rapport and began an in depth discussion of the films appearing at the Cinema Gance during the next month, and of the cinema in general.

The film being shown the following day at the Cinema Gance was probably my favourite of Francois Truffaut’s output, ‘Day for Night ‘. Annette was an equal admirer of the director but had never seen the film. We agreed to meet in the café next afternoon before the start of the film and sit together during the showing.

“What do you most admire about Truffaut?” she asked, after we had made the arrangements for the morrow.

“That is like asking me what I most admire about Gerard Depardieu, and you would get the same answer. Everything he does is perfect, and the same goes for Truffaut,” I said.

She smiled. “I’m surprised you have such a high regard for Depardieu, given his reputation.”

“I don’t care what he does or doesn’t do off screen. He acts all others off the screen when he appears on it. He has great presence, and he can play any part from Jean-Claude in ‘Les Valseuses’ to Bob in ‘Ménage’, Cyrano in’ Cyrano de Bergerac’, and Martin in ‘The Return of Martin Guerre’. He dominates the screen, and he also added some much needed style and finesse to that Hollywood pot boiler of a film ‘Green Card’.”

We left the café and I walked Annette back to her apartment, a flat above a florist’s shop in Rue de Saint-Lunaire. As we walked I continued with my eulogy of François Truffaut. “You will see what I admire about Truffaut when you see the film tomorrow. The lighting, the camera angles, the editing and the atmosphere are all superb. ‘Day for Night’, has everything; the trials and tribulations of making a film, humour, pathos, sadness...”

“Don’t tell me anymore, Rafael. I want to come to the film as a virgin.” Her choice of words surprised me somewhat but by this time we had arrived outside the florist’s shop.

“I work mornings at the florist,” she said, indicating the shop front but did not elaborate as to what she did in the afternoons, other than visit the cinema and then pick up young men in cafés. As we exchanged on the cheek kisses I took in her fragrance, an expensive perfume tone gleaned from my memory of Madam Veronique Curtis six years ago in Biarritz. Annette gave me a wave as she went up the stairs to her flat, and we both knew we would be lovers sooner rather than later.

Next day we met as planned. Annette was just as overwhelmed by ’Day for Night’ as I had been when first seeing it.

“Up until today my favourite Truffaut film was ‘The Woman Next Door’.” Annette said as we walked, arms around each other’s waists and haunch to haunch, back to my hotel.

“That also stars Depardieu,” I said.

“Yes, but my eyes were glued to Fanny Ardent. ‘Luminous’ does not fully describe her in that film.”

“Is she your favourite female actor?”

She shook her head. “She is an excellent actress, as is Juliette Binoche and Catherine Deneuve, but my all-time favourite actress is an American – Shirley MacLaine.”

I had to search my memory to recall any films I had seen with Shirley MacLaine in and eventually remembered one. “Ah, of course. ‘The Apartment’, a wonderful film by Billy Wilder, one of best directors of his day.”

“She also starred in a Hitchcock film, ‘The Trouble with Harry’. I’m surprised you haven’t seen that film. She also appeared in ‘Around the World in 80 days’ where she played an Indian princess. She is a talented actress who can play any role.” Annette paused a moment in thought. “She starred in ‘Sweet Charity’ and ‘Postcards from the Edge’, they were made several years apart but it shows what a depth and breadth of acting talent she possesses.”

“So is one of Shirley MacLaine’s films your favourite movie?”

She shook her head. “No my favourite film is ‘Rififi’.”

“A masterpiece. Copied by many but never equalled for technique, atmosphere and...”

“The sound of silence,” Annette said with a grin. I had to agree. There is one sequence in the film of nearly twenty nine minutes with only natural sound and no spoken words or music. Astounding.

We eventually arrived at my hotel and I lifted an eyebrow. “Would you like to come up to my third floor studio and see my etchings?”

“I would like to come up and see something, but won’t your grandfather be at home?”

“The Chevalier is not my grandfather, he is my employer, and he is at a bridge tournament until seven p.m.”

“In that case we had better get moving before I overstay my time and turn into a pumpkin,” she said, pressing the elevator call button.

I hugged her to me. “In which case I would gobble you up.”

The elevator arrived. We tumbled inside and she pressed the button for the third floor. “I hope this is an express elevator coz if there’s any gobbling to be done then I’m going to be the first to do it,” she said before her lips landed on mine and I was severely devoured for three floors.

The love we made was wonderful, comfortable, and deeply satisfying. It was if we had been lovers for years, knowing the buttons to press, the parts to caress and the areas to kiss, lick, suck or nibble. We didn’t rip and tear into each other. It wasn’t hard, fast, deep, or noisy. It was two friends enjoying each other’s company and flesh, giving and taking pleasure in equal measure. For three glorious hours I was no longer a paid gigolo but a lover, a friend, a confidant, and film buff. Annette left at six thirty after we agreed to meet at the café the same time the next day and watch whatever classic film was showing at the Cinema Gance.

The following day we saw ‘Bitter Rice’, a film I remembered from Le Boulou, where I fell in love with Silvana Magnano, more specifically with her thighs. I have always had a thing about female thighs ever since. Annette hadn’t seen the film before and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. She took me back to her place and demonstrated the clutching ability of her thighs, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I decided Annette deserved the truth so before I left for work I confessed to being a gigolo, thinking she would be disgusted and want no more to do with me. I could see she was surprised but not shocked.

“I wondered how it was someone as young as you should be so experienced in love making. You are excellent, and I speak with some experience as I too must make a confession. I am a courtesan, a kept woman. I am mistress, one of several, of the deputy mayor of Dinard. He owns this flat and pays for my daughter’s education...”

“I didn’t think you old enough to have a daughter of school age,” I blurted out.

She bathed me in her wonderful all-embracing smile. “That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me for years, Rafe, but yes, I have a daughter who is nearly ten years old. She is on a school trip to Mont St Michel at the moment. Having Alicia when I did ruined my career but I wouldn’t change what happened for the world. Alicia is my pride and joy, and if you are still in Dinard at the end of the month when she will be back from Mont St Michel I would like to introduce you.”

I didn’t have too much time for further questioning so I gave Annette a fulsome kiss. “It would be an honour to meet her, Annette.” She returned my kiss with interest and it was with some effort I pulled out from her embrace and hurried for the door.

“Same time, same place, tomorrow?” she said as I went out the door.

“Wild horses wouldn’t stop me,” I said, and then jog-walked to the Hotel du Plage; lateness was punished by losing an hour’s pay for every five minutes past clocking on time.

From then on Annette and I met every day. We would watch a film at the Cinema Gance and then, back at her place, we would discuss the film; the acting, the directing, the lighting and editing. We would then make love in her large bed, or on her sumptuous carpet, or on the chaise lounge, or over the back balcony with views out to the sea – not that I spent much time looking out to sea when there was a delightfully decadent nymph in front, on top, or beneath, me.

We had completed a second trip around the world and I was recovering, with Annette laying sated and supine alongside me, when something that had been niggling me for days came to the fore. “When does your, err, lover visit you? I have been here every day and there’s been no sign of him. Does he only come at night? No pun intended.” She raised herself on one elbow and gazed down at me. I saw a tear glinting in the corner of her eye.

“I haven’t been entirely truthful,” she announced with a sniff. “Gaston Roux, the deputy mayor, only visits me once or twice a month. I am what he describes as an inducement rather than a mistress.”

“An inducement? That’s a strange title to give a lover,” I said.

Annette got from the bed and put on her robe. “It’s time I came clean with you, Rafael. I’ll make some coffee and tell you the tale. I am not proud of what I have become but the main and overriding purpose of my life is the well-being of my daughter Alicia. Everything I do is to give her the best start in life that I can.”

I got up and dressed while the coffee was prepared and then we took our mugs of Costa Rica’s finest to the balcony, where Annette told me a tale that could be straight from the fertile mind of a Simenon, Flaubert, or Zola.

“I met Gaston Roux six months ago, shortly after I arrived in Dinard.” She sighed. “I had just broken up with my latest lover; or rather he had gone back to his wife, leaving me adrift with no home, no job, and no money. I was working in a sleazy night club as a waitress and Roux was sat at the bar. We got talking, and the upshot was he offered to provide me this place rent free, fix me up with a part time job with the florists below, and pay for Alicia to attend a local private school if I became his mistress. It seemed a lot just for a few nights work a week but then he explained what my ‘mistress ‘duties entailed.” She sipped her coffee and I waited for her to resume. “Gaston Roux uses his mistresses to ‘be nice’ to those men he wants favours from, or to further his political advancement, or to close business deals.” She shrugged. “‘Being nice’ to men is an occupational hazard for females in most if not all occupations and professions, and females have had to ‘be nice’ to either get a job or keep a job ever since Eve was ‘being nice’ to Adam when picking the apple. It was no big deal at first. I’ve had to ‘be nice’ to get ahead in my career and spreading my legs for Gaston’s business partners was no different, or at least it wasn’t to start with.” Her face clouded and I thought she had finished but she took a deep breath and continued. “Three months ago Patti, another of his mistresses/inducements, and I were at a party at an up market hotel in Paris where we were told to be ‘especially nice’ to the chief guest. I recognised him as a senior member of the government. After an hour most of the guests left and we and the ‘chief guest’ were joined by a young man of about sixteen and two young girls who looked to be fifteen but might have been younger. A mini orgy ensued; the ‘chief guest’ swung both ways as did the young boy and the two girls. I hadn’t taken part in an orgy before and was dumbfounded. Later that week I learned the whole thing had been filmed and Gaston was blackmailing the ‘chief guest’. Some underhand business deal was the result; Gaston made a fortune and I got a bonus. Since then I have attended several orgies. None of the guests were as high profile as the Cabinet Minister but they were all influential in political, business, and financial circles. I assume these orgies were also filmed and then used to extort whatever Gaston wanted from the men. These orgies were larger affairs than the first I attended, and there were far more females participating than Gaston Roux’s two mistresses/ inducements and two young girls, and more participating males than the one skinny teenager at my first orgy.” She stopped again and I could see she was debating whether to continue.

“Were those orgies held in the same hotel in Paris?” I said, more to break the strained silence rather than for any other reason.

“One or two were, but I have also attended orgies in Brussels and Strasbourg.” Annette said. I saw she had made her mind to continue as she fixed me with a steady gaze. “At the last one, two weeks ago in Strasbourg, at least two of the girls who joined in the orgy were very young. I doubt they were much more than fourteen and both of them seemed to know most of the guests.”

“You hadn’t seen either the two girls before at previous, err, functions?”

“No, but I recognised one of the girls as being a pupil at the same school as Alicia.”

“Does Roux also pay for her education?”

“I don’t know, but I can see you are thinking along the same lines as I am. I’ve identified who the girl’s mother is and will ask her if she is another of Roux’s mistresses. She is accompanying the girls on their school trip and is due back soon.”

When I returned to my hotel I was surprised to see the Chevalier ‘at home’. “Did the cards not fall for you again, Chevalier?” I asked as I got ready for my shift at the Hotel du Plage.

He snorted in anger. “Nothing to do with cards, Rafael. If I hadn’t left the casino when I did I would have skewered an obnoxious lecher and landed up in prison.”

The Chevalier is a remarkably amiable and good natured man – for a killer – and for anyone to raise his ire to such an extent must be a real bastard.

“What happened?” I said, realising the Chevalier wanted to tell his story, get it off his chest and calm down.

“There is someone who I see most days at the casino. He flaunts the young girl he always has on his arm in front of me. He knows I have a yen for young girls and taunts me with what he has. The girl is far too young to be allowed in the casino and to have alcohol, but he buys her drinks at the bar and no one says a word about the laws he and the casino are breaking. I walked into the men’s washroom and he and the girl were porking – well at least that’s what it sounded like before I entered the room, and they were hurriedly rearranging their clothing when I went in.” The Chevalier sighed. “If he had kept his mouth shut I might not have lost my temper, but he smirked at me and said something to the effect he would ‘let me have a piece of the girl but didn’t think I would be able to manage her as she was a vixen when aroused and he had certainly aroused her’. I called him a degenerate child molester and he just grinned at me. I then said I would report him to the local gendarmerie for giving a minor alcohol and he burst out laughing. ‘Try it, you old fool. They will probably lock you up for slander or libel. Do you think I am a nobody? I am Gaston Roux... ‘“

“Gaston Roux, the deputy mayor?”

“You know the chochon?”

“I know of him.” I said, and proceeded to tell him the story Annette had related to me earlier.

When I had finished the Chevalier stared at me. “So that is how he does it – blackmail. No wonder he can pork a girl in the casino whenever the mood takes him, which I believe he was doing when I opened the door to the men’s washroom. He must have the police chief under his thumb and no doubt a magistrate or two.” He stood for a moment in thought. “We need to discover those hotels that have cameras installed. Finding them, and the recordings, would put him out of business and into jail.”

“Annette might remember the names of the hotels where the orgies were held. I could ask her tomorrow.”

“Please do so as soon as possible, Rafael. Paris, Brussels, and Strasbourg are places where men with political influence congregate. We need to find those cameras, and more importantly obtain the films. Think of the damage that could occur if Roux sells the films to enemies of the Republic. I must let the general know at once.” He picked up his portable phone and speed dialled Paris while I left for work.

I finished work at four am and walked to Annette’s apartment, letting myself in with the key she had given me. I slid into her bed and would have slid into her but she was sound asleep and I like my women alert and alive when I pork them. Anyway I probably wouldn’t have been much good since I fell into a deep sleep only moments after getting into bed, only waking when Annette got out of bed to go to work. She kissed me goodbye and I went back to sleep. When I next awoke I could smell coffee brewing, croissants warming and omelettes cooking. I got from bed had a quick swill in the bathroom and dressed. After lunch we showered together and had a soapy, sexy, knee trembler. Afterwards I asked Annette if she could remember the name of the hotel in Paris or the other places where the orgies had been filmed. She couldn’t remember anything other than that the Paris hotel was in the 17th Arrondissement, the name of the hotel began with L, and the room number was 422. “Those were the last three digits of my Paris phone number, which is why I remember them,” she said.

It took me most of the afternoon using an A-Z of Paris to track down the elusive hotel, scrolling through an interminable list of hotels beginning with L.

‘“Libertie?”

“No.”

“Luxor Garden?”

“No.”

“La Manche?”

“No.”

“Lancelot?”

“Yes!” Annette whooped in joy. “I remember now that the ‘chief guest’ made a supposedly humorous remark about him lancing a lot.” She gave a scornful laugh. “He may have lanced a lot but his lance was extremely small and blunt, and didn’t hit my target, although both the young girls squealed when he lanced them, as did the boy!”

I rang the Chevalier and gave him the information.

“Well done, Rafael. I’ll get onto General Beauregard and he can take it from there. Hopefully the other hotels who install cameras in the guests’ rooms are part of the same –” He stopped abruptly and I waited, wondering what had happened. “Ask your friend Annette if the other hotels had names like Guinevere, Merlin, Galahad, Camelot, or anything pertaining to King Arthur.”

I turned to Annette. “Do you remember if the hotels in Brussels and Strasbourg had names from Le Morte d’Arthur?”

“I can’t recall. It was always dark when we arrived at the hotels, but I remember the hotel in Strasbourg had rather garish silver security lighting. We were hustled through reception and I scarcely saw anything until we reached the conference room where the orgy was to take place and ---” She paused, and I saw she was ferreting something out deep in her memory. “The name of the conference room was the Excalibur Room!”

I passed on that titbit of information to the Chevalier who was ecstatic with joy. “There’s a hotel chain owned by an American entrepreneur named Arthur King. The hotels all have names with a connection to King Arthur, a typical piece of egotism from a megalomaniac. We will soon find those cameras and films. Thank Annette for me, Rafael, and well done to you both.”

Annette and I held a brief celebration before I left for work. “Shall I go back to my hotel after finishing my shift?” I asked after getting dressed. “Your daughter will be home later in the morning and won’t want to find a stranger snoring in her mother’s bed.”

Annette laughed and kissed me. “Alicia won’t be home until the afternoon; we will have had our together shower and will be nice and relaxed when she arrives. And you don’t snore. You may howl occasionally but that is only to be expected when I do what I do to make you howl.”