Claudine (14 page)

Marcus set his glass down. “You’re admirably suited to play the concubine; I couldn’t have made a better choice. And do you know why? It is not simply your physical attractions; we have many beauties in Europe, after all.” He ran his hand down her bare arm, letting it rest on her own hand. “It is a particular quality you have—elusiveness. You’re very desirable, but aloof. Unobtainable. This is what really sets the fire burning. We men find that irresistible. I think Ingres had such a sentiment in mind when he painted his lady. As a concubine she was a captive, but she gives the impression it would be impossible to ever really possess her.”

Claudine leaned over, her lips still glistening with wine, and kissed him on the mouth. “You’re a shameless flatterer, Marcus. I love it.”

He pushed his chair back and rose gracefully, took her hand. “Come petite, I wish to make the most of the brief time allotted to me.”

She followed him to the door of an adjoining room. “I only show this off to my close friends,” he said, punching buttons on a plate to unlock the door.

She hesitated for only a second before remembering that Andrei stood guard downstairs. “I’m honored you consider me one of them,” she said graciously.

She had to stifle a gasp.

Dozens of paintings and prints adorned the walls, and marble pedestals held priceless sculpture. Here was Marcus’s famed collection of erotic art. One print, unmistakably a Picasso, featured distorted male and female figures, a large penis inserted into a hairy cunt, hands holding a palette, brushes. The tangle of bodies was observed by a strange seated figure—Picasso himself perhaps? A portrayal of the artist fucking his model, literally and allegorically.

A painting of Leda and the Swan caught her eye. A naked woman reclined upon a crimson cloth as a swan inserted its sex between her legs. Judging from the brutish, masculine lines of the woman’s form, it appeared to be a Michelangelo.

Marcus confirmed it was a work by the great artist. “A tempera painting,” he said, waving his hand toward it. “Much copied, but this is the original. It was considered obscene and was supposedly burned in 1640 at Fontainebleau. I suspect the church fathers kept it hidden for their own titillation.” He chuckled.
“And that’s an engraving attributed to Jules Adolphe Chauvet.” The strange picture he pointed toward showed a woman from the navel down, two cherubs pulling back her dress to expose her naked belly and sex. Out of her slit tumbled tiny figures, copulating in all kinds of imaginative positions.

But the artwork wasn’t what startled Claudine most. Against one wall stood an apparatus, a bondage stand, a simple iron frame fixed to the floor and rising to a height of about seven feet. Cuffs with tensors extended from each corner. Her heart sank. She rubbed her right wrist and tried to ignore the loud pumping of her heart. “I don’t do bondage, Marcus. That’s clearly stated whenever I take on a client.” She had nothing against BDSM and knew that was a popular venue of pleasure for some. It simply wasn’t her thing. And the early memories of being tied to her crib gave her a physical aversion to being restrained.

“Of course, petite, I know. It’s intended for me . . . not you.” Noting the look on her face, he laughed. “Why, I’m not asking you to whip me or anything like that. I’m far too much of a coward about pain. It’s the feeling of being restrained that I love. It seems to turn a switch on. After I’m bound, I want you to tease me.” He patted her cheek. “With binding, the sensations are so much greater. You must try it sometime.”

“I did—only once. A very wealthy client, a prominent Japanese artist. He practiced
kinbaku
.”

“Ah. Japanese bondage is a high art. And you are like the
oiran
, those high-ranking courtesans who were entertainers and celebrities. I can see why he wanted you. But if you dislike bondage, why did you agree?”

“I consented because he didn’t ask for sex and that made me curious. And he promised to release me if I felt any pain. He
specified what I was to wear: stilettos, silk stockings with seams, a white garter belt, panties and bra. Over that, he wanted me to wear a conservative dress with a high neck and long sleeves. And no makeup. His requests were very precise—that intrigued me.”

“How enticing. Tell me about it.”

Claudine warmed to her subject. “He slowly took off my dress and his hands actually trembled when he unfastened my bra. He carefully removed each item of clothing until I stood only in my shoes. Holding them to his nose to seek my scent, he then folded each garment with extreme care and set them on a chair. He ran his fingers over every inch of my body as if he couldn’t see, could only know me through touch. He’d hand-dyed beautiful, soft linen ropes and used them to bind me with an elaborate system of knots.”

Marcus hung on her every word. “You must demonstrate, petite.”

She hesitated. As long as she was directing, and the knots were not too tight, she could break her own rule of no bondage. If it would please him, she’d comply. “We’d need some rope, at least eighteen feet. Do you have anything like that?”

Marcus thought for a minute. “I have some thin cable that I use to grapple larger sculptures—just wait.” He went into the other room. She could hear him rummaging in a cupboard and he returned with a length of thin blue nylon rope.

“Good. Now undress me . . . slowly.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up. “With great pleasure.” He reached for the ties of her wrap, undid the bow and let the silky material slip through his fingers. He pulled the wings of fabric away from her naked body. The bulge in his trousers grew at the sight of her
pink nipples, her supple skin and the smooth cleft between her thighs.

“Take the rope,” Claudine commanded. “Slip it around my neck and make a knot so it looks like a noose. Then tie a second knot over my sternum at the top of my cleavage.” After he followed her next instructions, two bands of rope circled her: one at the top of her breasts and one below. It had the effect of pushing out her breasts and making her nipples swell and harden. They looked like pink candy kisses.

“God, that’s stunning,” Marcus said. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked gently, while tweaking the other with his thumb and index finger. The charge of his soft tongue on her breasts made her pussy throb.

“Now I’ll show you another thing the artist did—but on you, not me. First, you’re going to have to untie me.”

Marcus did as he was told and removed the blue cable. When he disrobed she saw that he hid a myriad of flaws beneath his elegant clothes. The nest of hair on his chest and pubis was sparse and white and his skin sagged over flaccid muscles. His testicles hung low like those of an aging stud bull. He ran his hand over his noticeable paunch and smiled. “Not the body I once had. The good life has taken its toll.”

Many of her customers were older men, a number elderly; that made no difference to her. Often she found them gentler, more generous. She ran her hands over his chest, his stomach and up the insides of his thighs. He tensed with pleasure. “We all focus on our flaws, Marcus. You’re still a very handsome man.” She kissed his neck.

He beamed at the compliment and delicately confessed that
age had caught up with him. More and more often he’d been unable to hold an erection or, at best, managed only a soft one. He detested drugs of any kind so for him the blue pill was not an option. “A harsh thing to do to one’s body,” he said. “I prefer physical stimulation.”

“Of course, Marcus,” she soothed. “I understand.”

He wedged his hands and feet through the cuffs on the apparatus and she tightened the tensors until he was secured, spread-eagled inside the iron frame. She made a loop in the blue cable and tightened the noose behind his balls around the base of his penis by twisting the length of rope up his belly, then circling the two halves of rope around his waist and tying a tight knot at the small of his back.

The pressure aroused him and when she squatted and took him in her mouth, he hardened quickly. “You’re very talented,” he said, his breaths quickening. “Tease me. Give me more.”

She sucked strongly on the head of cock and gave his balls a gentle squeeze. When she looked up to see if he liked the technique, he opened his eyes, gazed at her pink lips working his shaft and shuddered with delight.

Claudine stood up and untied the rope. She continued her story: “The Japanese artist drew me when he’d finished his binding. The act of drawing seemed to excite him even more, although it was a swift exercise, just a few expert lines. Then he bowed graciously and walked out of the room leaving me to dress. And that was all. It was the process of binding me he yearned for. No consummation was necessary. That simple act gave him great satisfaction.”

“I imagine he’s looked at that drawing over and over,” Marcus said, still a little breathless.

“Once he’d completed his drawing, he lost interest in the muse.” She let the cable drop to the floor. “Hold still; I have something else to make our evening fun.”

From her bag she retrieved a tube of lubricant and a curious device, a round plastic ring crowned with short feathery fronds. She smeared lube on her palms and enclosed his penis, moving her hands vigorously up and down. She slid the elastic ring down his cock and fitted it behind his testicles, immediately enhancing the sensation. She smiled at him. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His pelvis quivered with pleasure. “Phenomenal, petite.”

She licked the length of his cock and gently rubbed his balls. She slipped the elastic ring back over his balls but kept it hugging his penis to maintain his erection.

“I want you inside me now, Marcus.” She brushed her nipples against his chest, and in one swift movement, looped a leg over his bound right arm, opening her pussy wide. She guided his cock into her slit.

“God, you feel . . . amazing . . .” he mumbled. She moved her hips to match his motions, the little fronds on the cock ring brushing her clitoris with every thrust. Soon she became caught up in her own sensations, using the device to titillate her most sensitive spot. Her vagina clenched and her body rocked with myriad heavenly vibrations. Shortly after, a few short, guttural pants brought Marcus to a blissful orgasm and he slumped against her.

Rapid steps banged on the stair leading up to the adjacent room, as if the person coming toward them was taking the steps two at a time. A heavy first pounded on the door. Marcus jerked his head up in consternation, spoiling the pleasing lassitude that had stolen over him.

“Who the devil is that? Get me out of these things, Claudine!”

She struggled to get the cuffs off. Marcus wrenched his hands and feet out of them, threw on his pants and shirt. “There’s a bathroom through there.” He jerked his thumb to indicate the screen in the corner behind the apparatus. She grabbed her dress and bag and went in, wet a cloth, ran it over her face and hands and then wiped the wetness off her thighs. She sprayed on some perfume and wrapped her dress around her. She could hear Marcus’s tones but nothing else. Her earlier fears flooded back. After a few moments of silence, she exited the gallery and shut the door behind her. Marcus was waiting for her in the reception room. Andrei stood beside him with a look of harsh determination on his face.

Her heart sank. Andrei would never barge into one of her performances without a very good reason. “What is it? What’s happened?” She pressed her teeth into her lip, fearing the worst.

Andrei walked over and took her in his arms. “It’s Lillian.”

CHAPTER
15

Maria closed her eyes and tried to block out the terrible images flooding her brain. “The guard was supposed to stay in the room with her until we got back!” She cried, pushing away from him.

“He did. No one got into your suite, at least not while he was there.”

“Then what happened? Where is she?”

“She’s in the hospital. When Lillian went back to the hotel, she started to tidy up. She found a box of your . . . protective material.” He’d stumbled over what to call it but she knew he meant her female condoms.

“I guess they spilled somehow,” Andrei continued. “Lillian tried to put them back but the lube in one of them drained out. It got on her fingers and burned them. She tried to wash it off but the water only made it worse. According to the guard, she started screaming and her fingers bled. By the time they got her
to the hospital the skin on her right hand had been seared off just as if she’d stuck it on a red-hot stove.”

Her lips trembled. “Oh my God.”

“The doctors treated Lillian’s hand right away. Now we just have to wait and see. The security guard called me to let me know what happened. We should head over to the hospital right now.”

She bid Marcus a quick good-bye and followed Andrei to the car waiting outside.

“Whatever the substance is, it was placed there deliberately. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She was sick at the thought of what Lillian must be suffering.

“We’ll take a sample back to the U.S. and get it tested to find out what it is. Toxic as hell, that’s for sure.”

If it had not seeped out until she inserted the condom, it would have burned her insides and left her genitals a mass of scar tissue. “What kind of monster would do this?” What she didn’t say aloud was that Lillian had paid a terrible price for her choices. “How could he have altered the lubricant, do you think?”

“My guess is he opened one of those packages back in San Francisco when he broke into your hotel room. He must have doctored it, maybe used a syringe to do it, and then resealed the box. Did you open a new one?”

“Tonight. Just before I went to the gallery.” She was quiet for a moment. “We know one thing definitively. He’s been a client at some point. He came to San Francisco prepared because he knew what I used for protection.”
Andrei passed a taxi and slid smoothly back into his lane. “That’s right. You’ve met this pig before—that’s for sure.”

T
hree hours later, Lillian sat on the edge of the bed in their hotel suite, her right hand swathed in white gauze and bandages. Above the bandages, her wrist and lower arm were enflamed and swollen. Maria made tea for her and placed it on the bedside table.