Chapter 7

It was not Janet's first trip to Paris. She had toured Europe with her parents when she was fifteen and again with her mother three years past when she was eighteen, and she had been overjoyed when she had married Paul to learn that the fascinating city was going to be their home for the next few years; but now, caught up in the torment of this monstrous illness that had swept over her, she wanted nothing more than to be away from there as soon as possible to be back in Boston amongst those who loved her and could comfort her.

Paul could not help her now. As much as she loved him, and wanted to throw herself at his feet to beg his forgiveness for the vile, wanton acts she had committed with Doctor Leduc, she knew she could not. He would never understand that she had had no control over herself, that she had given her body to this man because of some wicked compelling force she could not fathom.

When they had parted at Le Havre, she had vowed to herself never to see the doctor again. She had felt certain that once out of his jurisdiction the malady -- whatever in God's name it was -- would pass... even to the terrifying addiction he had somehow subjected her to. And last night, she had made every attempt to be gay and carefree, continually insisting to herself that Leduc's hold over her was no longer, that she had beaten it and now all would be well... Then, had come the horrible agonies, the vomiting and clutching stomach pains... and the detestable sight of Paul's naked body...

Dear God! I must be losing my mind. I can't stand the sight of my own husband's naked body, but I go wild with desire merely thinking of Leduc's heavy, thick shaft! I want it inside me... I... I even want it in my mouth... to lick and suck it... I want him to pump his hot, white sperm into me until I drown in it... !

"Come along, Darling. You should be getting ready," Paul said, interrupting her lewd mental torture, as they sat across from one another at the breakfast table. "We have a long ride. Dives is some two-hundred kilometers. As it is, we won't arrive there until late in the afternoon."

"Paul... I don't want to go... I don't want to see Doctor Leduc again..."

"Honey, let's not go through that again. You're being unreasonable... just talking silly," Paul said, shifting uneasily upon his chair and trying desperately not to lose patience with her. "Doctor Leduc has helped you. You've said so yourself... just like last night... and I'm confident, given a little time, he'll have you back to..." He paused, catching himself in time.

Janet managed a mirthless smile. "You were going to say... back to normal."

He caught her hand and held it. "You know what I mean, Janet. My God, I love you, baby, and all I want is to see you well and happy again...

"Then take me home. Take me back to Boston, Paul," she said quickly. "I know I'll get better there, right away."

Paul withdrew his hand, getting to his feet with a jerk. "Dammit, I've told you that's impossible, Janet... and you know it. I'm committed here now. I just can't... can't walk away like that."

You can resign."

"And have my father laugh himself sick at me?" he snapped at her. "Oh no," he shook his head vigorously. "I've taken all the 'I-told-you-so' remarks I can from him and the rest of the family. No, Janet. I'm not going to resign and go crawling back there to be an office boy for Cornelius Arden. Never..."

"But you don't have to do that, Darling," she put in anxiously. "My daddy has offered you any one of a dozen fine positions..."

"No, Janet! I won't run errands for Jeremiah Clinton either," Paul insisted, slamming the table heavily with his balled fist. "No, by God, we're here and here we stay. We'll make our own way and we'll suffer out our problems together... depending on each other and no one else." His handsome young face was set in a stern expression of finality. "Now, pack what we'll need for the weekend. I want to be on our way in thirty- minutes."

With that, he left her, storming off toward the bedroom to dress while she stared at her cold, half-emptied coffee cup.

All right, damn you. If that's what you want, Paul Arden, that's what you'll get. Only don't say after that I didn't do my best to have you take me out of here. God alone knows what's going to happen now... Suffer our problems together, is it? Good God, you don't know what you're saying... and I can't tell you... I can't! All right... yes, yes, I'll go to him... and I hope he fucks me until I can't walk straight! Ohhh, damn you, Paul Arden! Goddamn you!

Both Janet and Paul were surprised to learn that four other young couples were weekend guests at the Leduc's palatial summer villa. As well, was Paul a bit disappointed at the nasty, cold turn the weather had taken, for he had hoped to do some sailing and perhaps some surf casting; however, he soon found the others to be friendly, sociable, as well as attractive young people, with a minimum of financial problems -- young people who had been drawn to the Leducs through the Doctor's practice, giving them all something in common. So, almost from the moment of their arrival, a drink was placed in their hands and the indoor merrymaking theme of the next few days caught them up.

While soft enticing music seemed to float continuously in the background of the luxurious surroundings, and servants were constantly available to satisfy one's slightest whim, there was also dancing, poker, chess and bridge in progress, along with the one or two guests who preferred just to lounge and drink. Janet had gotten involved in a rubber of bridge and was seemingly enjoying herself more than Paul had hoped for. He was extremely pleased and more happy than ever that he had insisted they come. Perhaps this was what she needed most of all... social involvement. Really, she'd had little of it since they left New York... little of anything, for that matter, except suffering. Poor, beautiful darling. God, how he loved her.

He watched her laughing and joking, sipping at a liqueur, as he sat contentedly in a large, plush chair enjoying a scotch and soda of his own, and suddenly it occurred to him that he never remembered being engirdled by such beauty. The striking handsomeness of the men meant little to him, but the spectacular beauty of the women wherever he looked amazed him. Such pulchritude was rare in this quantity, even at gatherings of stage celebrities or movie people. Momentarily, he mused over this as he looked about him from female to female and began to experience faint prurient sensations commencing in his loins. The taunting desire embarrassed him... but what the hell could he expect, he reminded himself. How long had it been? Damn...

His thoughts were interrupted by Madame Leduc's entrance, her two superb mastiffs on either side of her. Of course, she had met them upon their arrival, but Paul had not seen her since and they had been there some few hours now. She was a stunning woman, he thought, tall... almost regal, even in the short skirt she wore, but he was looking more at her slender, yet, perfectly tapered legs, the swell of her hips and the thrust of her firm, pointed breasts. Her clear white skin caused him to swallow tightly while her dazzling smile sent his blood racing, and the sensual gleam in her ravishing dark eyes brought crimson to his face. He felt a little foolish, but couldn't help himself,

"Ah, M'sieu' Arden, you sit by yourself," she said, coming directly to him. "No, no, don't get up. We have no formality on these little week-end get-togethers." She dropped into the chair across from him, crossing her legs with a minimum of decorum and showing him much white thigh... even a fleeting glimpse of white nylon panties where they clung snugly to that enticing juncture he found himself visualizing in his mind. Once more, he swallowed tightly. "I do hope you are not bored," she continued in French as the beautiful animals immediately lay down at her feet.

"No, no, not at all, Madame," Paul managed, clearing his throat. "I... I was just sitting here relaxing and thinking how much Madame Arden seems to be enjoying herself."

"Ah... oui, poor child," Madame Leduc sympathized with pursed lips. "The Doctor has spoken of her quite often. He does seem upset over whatever it is that has plagued her." She looked toward Janet. "Such a beautiful girl, M'sieu'... but then, I'm sure Alex will be able to help her."

"I hope you're right, Madame," said Paul, worriedly.

"There now," she soothed, reaching over to pat his knee gently. "You must have faith... and this week end you must enjoy yourself." She smiled warmly. "Look around you, M'sieu'. All of these couples, either the wife or husband, were suffering from illnesses similar to your lovely wife's at one time or another, and now they are all well and happy. You see? That's why they come here... they have such great affection for my husband."

"I see," said Paul, impressed as well as encouraged. God, how he hoped Leduc would be able to do as well by Janet. "By the way, where is the Doctor, Madame? I haven't seen him since he got here."

"Oh, he had to go to the village. Some little girl was taken with abdominal pains and whenever we are here the local physician calls upon Alex for consultation. But now, ma chere, I insist we end this formality. You must call me Danielle and I will call you Paul."

"Very well... Danielle," Paul said, smiling.

Danielle Leduc then overwhelmed him with a bewitching, sultry smile of her own as she leaned forward to place her hand upon his knee once more. The scintillating lights in her eyes danced sensually. She spoke softly, "My Alex tells me that your sweet Janet is afflicted with some abysmal revulsion of your body, ma chere, and that she cannot tolerate you making love to her." She shook her head slowly and made little noises with her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

Paul flushed a brilliant red. He wasn't aware that doctors blabbered the case histories of their patients to their wives quite so indiscreetly and he was about ready to say something to that effect, but the breathtaking creature before him anticipated his anger.

"You mustn't be upset at my knowing, cheri," she whispered consolingly. "You see, I can understand how difficult it must be for a virile young man like yourself... and... and perhaps, I can bring you some... some pleasurable relief, shall we say... a little later... ?"

Paul wondered if he had heard her correctly. He stared at her; he couldn't speak but he felt the warm pressure of her hand increasing meaningfully against his leg, and for a third time in the space of a few minutes his throat seemed to go dry and he swallowed tightly. Then, she was standing, her dogs immediately rising to their feet.

She smiled down at him promisingly, then looked toward the animals. "Are not they magnificent animals, Paul? Have you ever seen their equal?"

"Y-yes... I mean yes, they are and no, I haven't," he stammered, reaching out to pet the head of Vailante.

The brute growled deep in its throat and Paul withdrew his hand.

"I fear he is not the friendliest of beasts," she apologized, then scolded the massive dog. "They are a super breed. They were bred especially for Adolph Hitler to be used as guards in his concentration camps during the tail end of the war when the German manpower became so critical. They can snap the bone of a man's arm with one bite of their powerful jaws..." she went on, smiling down at her pet and stroking his great head. "I was most fortunate in locating this pair... there has been so much cross breeding and tainting of the blood-strain. It seems that people no longer want large dogs for pets, but I love them, don't you?"

"Y-Yes," Paul managed, hardly hearing her words, his brain still reacting to the meaning of her promise. Then, she was saying, "... are extremely affectionate animals to their masters." She bent down and kissed Vailante on the crown of his huge head. The dog whimpered and wagged its tail. She straightened. "For me, a dog cannot be too big," she said. "I love them... the bigger the better."

"Yes," Paul babbled. "Yes, of course."

He watched her exquisite form move gracefully across the large room, her pets on either side of her. He followed her movements with still stunned eyes as she paused to speak and smile at her guests individually, finally turning to throw him one last, long engaging smile before leaving the room at the far end. Christ, his prick had leaped into semi-hardness at just the thought of her words. What the hell had she meant... some pleasurable relief? There could be only one thing...

"Well, Arden, are you drunk yet?" A tall, broad shouldered, blond chap with a jagged scar on his right cheek slumped into the chair Danielle Leduc had just occupied. He spoke in French with a decided German accent and his discerning, keen blue eyes probed Paul's with a cold, calculating gleam. He held a glass in his hand and as he sat he emptied it.

"No... no, I don't believe so," Paul said, trying to recall his name. He had been introduced to everyone but he was not the greatest of name-rememberers... besides, Danielle Leduc was still heavy in his mind.

"I am Hans... Hans Friestag, in case you have forgotten," the German said, smiling. "What do you drink? I will get us a couple."

"Scotch... scotch and soda's fine," said Paul, surprised when the German had switched to English which he also spoke fluently. He watched him motion to a servant and order for them.

"So..." Hans Friestag sighed, slumping deeply into the luxurious chair and folding his hands across his lap. "I assume either you or your wife are ill and you've come for treatment?"

Paul studied him. "Why should you assume that?"

Hans Friestag shrugged. "What else? That is what brought us all here... the first time."

"Oh... and now?"

"The kicks... what else?" said the German. "And I know of no other place where you can get such kicks... except for the Palais de Plaisir itself."

Paul continued to stare at him, feeling rather stupid in his failure to grasp the other's meaning. He shook his head just as the servant returned, extending the tray to each of them in turn.

"Really?" Hans Friestag questioned Paul's head-shake, raising his glass to his lips, his eyes never wavering from the tall, dark American. Finally, he said, "Tell me, Arden, is your wife any good in bed?"

Paul came upright in his chair, not quite certain he had heard correctly. "Wh-what did you say?"

"Your wife... ? Is she really as good as she looks... ?"

"I thought that's what you said," Paul snapped in rage. "What the hell kind of remark is that?" he shot at the German.

Once more, Friestag shrugged. "No offense, old man," he said half apologetically in English. "Just wondering. You see, once again, that's what brought all of us here at one time or another... finding sexual compatibility with our spouses," the German grinned. "I thought you knew... but I guess you didn't."

"I wasn't that interested," said Paul sharply, his anger somewhat under control now. "Doctor Leduc is treating my wife. That's why we've come."

Hans Friestag nodded, the faintest trace of a smile playing around his thin-lipped mouth. "Naturally," he said. "A lovely girl, Mrs. Arden. And you can feel confident that Leduc will help her. He is an amazing physician."

Paul gulped at his drink. There was something intoned in every word the German uttered that rankled him, yet there was nothing basic that he could put his finger on... and then a servant entered to announce that a buffet supper was being served in the dining room, and Friestag stood to find his wife.

"Well, see you later in the apartment, Arden." He nodded, offering a half-hearted salute. "Pleasant pickings," he added and walked off.

Paul stood, draining his own glass and staring after the German. What the hell did he mean... pleasant pickings... and being here for the kicks... or the Palais de Plaisir? He looked around him at the warm laughing faces of the attractive men and women... at his own Janet who was smiling radiantly at the slender, dark young importer, Charl Rondeau. Everyone seemed so light-hearted and happy... then, someone had his arm. It was Danielle Leduc, absent her mastiffs.

"So, ma chere, you are ready to sup?" she questioned, moving close until he could feel her firm, yet soft pointed breast pressing its button- hard nipple into his arm.

"I... ah... was just going for my wife," Paul said, looking deep into her sparkling, taunting eyes.

"But that is not necessary, you see?" She nodded with her pretty head to where Janet had fastened onto the arm of Charl Rondeau.

Paul forced a smile as he watched the way Janet drew the Frenchman's arm against her own full breast and proceeded to accompany him toward the dining room without so much as a look in his direction. He knew damned well that he didn't like what he saw, but on the other hand, the liquor had stimulated him to the reckless point where he liked very much the provocative creature beside him and the way she was letting him know that her charms were his for the taking... and God knows, he needed them bad enough. His smile twisted into a wry grin as he thought to himself how goddamned disappointed that Frenchie would be if Janet took one look at his prick. He even chuckled aloud at the thought.

"Something is funny, my Paul?" the raven-haired beauty questioned.

Paul caught himself and let his laugh wind up in a licentious little smile which he confidently extended her as he squeezed her hand warmly. "Just thinking, honey... remembering that promise you made a little while ago."

They were alone now, the others having filed on out toward the dining room. Danielle looked up into his eyes, desire immediately coming alive in her own.

"You liked my suggestion?" she whispered to him.