Chapter 8

"Monsieur Taylor, Monsieur Taylor," the loudspeaker blared through the shouts of the porters and the cacophonous noises of the crowded railway station. "Message for you at the information desk."

Kevin motioned for the porter carrying his bags to follow him and walked toward the booth displaying the "Information" sign in English, French, and German. Kevin identified himself, and the small squat Frenchman behind the desk pointed toward a woman standing about fifteen feet away.

"The Madame standing there has requested we page you, Monsieur Taylor. Would you please speak with her."

Kevin thanked the clerk and quizzically walked toward the woman waiting for him. She obviously did not know who he was as she glanced past him without recognition as he approached her. This was strange, to be met by an unknown person in a city where he had never been before. It must be connected with Jean and he felt a lump of fear rising in his throat.

Had something happened to her, an accident, had she taken ill? He was almost afraid to speak to the woman for fear of being confronted with news of some horrible disaster. It just couldn't happen. He had raised his hopes so much on the train that things would straighten themselves out between them in Marseille and it frightened him to think that something may have happened to prevent their getting a second chance at it. He had a lot to make up to her and found himself praying silently now that she was all right.

He spoke hesitatingly to the woman. "H--Hello, I'm Kevin Taylor, the man at information said you had me paged."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Taylor, I should have recognized you from Jean's descriptions but then you Americans are all so handsome," the woman said, smiling at him as though she had known him all her life.

"Th--then Jean did send you?" he asked hurriedly, anxiety apparent in his voice. "Is something wrong? Where is she?"

"Just a moment, young man, don't get carried away. Jean is fine and waiting for you," she assured him. "I'll explain it all to you on the way to the hotel. A crowded train station is no place to discuss the problems of newlyweds."

Monique instructed the porter to get them a taxi and they followed him out of the station. After they were comfortably settled in the back and wending their way through traffic toward the hotel, Monique spoke.

"Please let me introduce myself before I explain why I'm here to meet you. I am Monique DuFour, a friend of Jean's. We met on the train coming down from Paris and took a liking to each other so I have been staying with her. She certainly needed someone to look after her after your little mistake in Paris," she gave Kevin a friendly reproachful look, indicating she was teasing and for him not take her admonishments too seriously.

"Has--has she told you everything?" Kevin asked, unbelieving. He just couldn't accept the fact, so suddenly, that Jean had run to a complete stranger and told her that her own husband had raped her on their wedding night.

"Yes, you naughty boy," Monique chided, "she has done just that. And you are the one to blame for all this so don't look too harshly on her for discussing your short-comings with me. You should be grateful that we met. I've been able to convince her that it is a common thins among newlyweds to go through this. That's why she cabled you to come so soon even though she didn't want to at all."

"Well," Kevin answered, looking at the woman with a new found warmth. "I appreciate what you've done. I've been worried sick sitting in that hotel room not knowing where Jean was. I would have gone to the police if that cable had been another half an hour. I was afraid she may have done something desperate. She was quite upset when I stormed out of the room the other night."

"Don't you feel she had reason to be?" Monique said, turning to him in the seat. "It seems I detect a self-righteous tone in your voice. Or is it one of wounded pride?"

"I don't think that is important, Madame DuFour," he answered defensively. "The important thing is not who is right or wrong in this matter, but that we get together and solve it. I've done a lot of foolish things and so has she. We should be about even on that score now."

"Please call me, Monique," she corrected.

"All right, Monique, please call me Kevin. Now tell me why Jean didn't meet me, she said in her cable that she would be there." Kevin was a bit perplexed about this and had to say something.

"She was just a little hung-over from last night," Monique smiled intimately at him as though confiding a deep secret to him. "And she didn't want to come."

"Hung-over? Why, she never drinks," Kevin sputtered, ignoring the last statement.

"Oh, she does now," Monique said. "We had quite a time on the town last night. I thought she would never stop."

"But what brought this on? She said in her note she was going away to do some serious thinking, not to live it up."

"I think it was just the pressure, my boy, now don't you worry," Monique patted his knee next to her consolingly. "After all, it's not every girl who gets frustrated on her wedding night. They might react strangely to it."

"Frustrated!" Kevin almost shouted even though he was only sitting a few feet from the women. "Is that what she told you?"

"Why yes, of course," Monique answered, surprise in her voice. "You mean you couldn't tell--that night?"

"Well," Kevin answered slowly, a tinge of anger beginning to grow in him. "I suppose I didn't satisfy her if that's what you mean, but I haven't even considered that. I though it was because I was too rough."

"That should be the first thing you do consider, young man, when you make love to a woman. I don't care if you ravish her like a slave, it's making her enjoy being ravished that's important. Jean wasn't nearly so concerned about your forcing her, she just was disappointed that you knew nothing about the finer points of making love."

Kevin crimsoned beside Monique. Anger rising in him at the older woman's words... So this is what he had come all the way from Paris for, to find out his bride says he's a lousy lover. This was one thing he would have to talk to Jean about the first moment he saw her. He could take a lot of things but having your wife tell perfect strangers something like this was almost too much.

Monique could see the color of his face changing out of the corner of her eye. Her plan seemed to be working well so far. His masculinity was being insulted, and if there was anything a man couldn't stand, it was having that questioned. She knew men well enough by now and they were the same the world over in that particular respect. You could control their anger or love completely by praise or insult to that one god of theirs, masculinity. She intended to use it well on this young immature American as he was just at the age when it was so important. He was so vulnerable it almost made her laugh This was going to be easy if that damn Arab, Shalla, was doing his part as well as she.

She smiled to herself and looked over at the clean cut young American, wondering musedly to herself what he would think if he knew his sweet pure young wife had been screwed within an inch of her life by that pig. He probably would go completely crazy and start tearing things apart like all of his kind. They were so proud and naive, it would never occur to them that a woman might want to try something else also as men always did when they got the chance. This might be a good experience for him. At least, it would teach him one of the basic lessons of life, that even without love, people would simply multiply from lust alone, it felt too good to ever go out of style. Even she had succumbed last night, after all these years. True, she had been forced into it but her body had made the most out of its chance even though her mind had fought it, and it had brought back the horrible memories of her brutal ravishment at the hands of other Arabs so many years ago. Yes, the body was a strange uncooperative thing and under the right circumstances would go its own way regardless of the high sounding moral principles the mind might harbor.

Monique finally broke the silence that had persisted for several miles now. She knew she had hit the sore point and would make the most of it in furthering her little scheme. "I gather you've not had much experience in making love, Kevin. Don't you know a man owes it to his wife to learn these things before the wedding night."

Kevin thought for a moment before answering. He hadn't wanted to explain anything to her. It was something between he and his wife and no one else he had thought, but obviously, Jean had confided more in her than she had her own husband. Perhaps he could learn a few things from this straight forward woman. She certainly was unlike any American woman he had ever met. They would never think of discussing a subject like this with a person even if they knew them well, much less a total stranger. Her friendship might be worth cultivating, it might even be the key to recapturing the respect of Jean. As a lover, he obviously had sunk pretty low in her estimation and he knew their love could never work unless it were built on mutual respect, including respect in bed.