Red Hot Obsessions (115 page)

Chapter 10
Caroline

AT 11:00 A.M. CAROLINE was pacing in her apartment. She was very excited about the upcoming Sunday lunch. She would finally meet face-to-face that strange man who had moved in with Ariane after one single weekend of taking her classes.

She found it fascinating that this man had moved into Ariane’s life so quickly. He obviously had something that Patrick didn’t have. It was not physical. Sure, Peter was a nice-looking man, very stylish and suave, but Patrick was a lot hotter and probably younger.

Even though she was soon to be a century old, Caroline had, thanks to good surgery, regained perfect vision and, thanks to good genes, kept a very sharp mind. Okay, maybe she was forgetful at times, but only about matters that bored her. That wasn’t age related; she’d been like that all her life.

Lately she had put her good mind to use by thinking about Ariane’s life. It had turned into her favorite activity, and she had come to the conclusion that she needed more data to get a better understanding of the situation. She knew Patrick well enough. What she needed was to have a better look at Peter. Hence the Sunday lunch invitation.

Ariane, who had the key to the service entrance that led directly to Caroline’s kitchen, dropped by around noon. Even though she remained in her living room, Caroline noticed that Ariane had come alone. She did a quick kitchen check after Ariane’s departure and found a yummy quiche Lorraine warming in the oven. Ariane came back ten minutes later. Caroline checked in the kitchen again and found a large salad bowl and a crème caramel in the fridge.

Caroline chuckled to herself as she walked back to her dining room to await her guests. For two weeks the meals Ariane had brought had been bread-free. She’d gone out of her way to come up with main courses that wouldn’t require anything from Patrick’s bakery. Lately Madame Caroline had eaten a mushroom risotto, beef lasagnas, shrimp pad thai… She had enjoyed all those meals very much, but she was longing for a large cheese tray with an assortment of bread. And not just any bread—the little ones that Patrick had created for Ariane to complete her perfect meals.

At 12:30 p.m., Caroline went to open her front door to Ariane and Peter. She offered them a glass of Champagne with gougères, tiny puffs of cheese. One look at Peter, and Caroline had a sick feeling in her gut. She just had to make sure before she told Ariane to run for the hills.

Madame Caroline’s English was flawless. Her second husband, God bless his soul, had been an English lord. She told Ariane and Peter that she had lived in Great Britain for several years with him before he suffered a fatal coronary. She had been very sad to lose him but so happy to come back to gay Paris.

“Oh, talking about gay Paris,” Madame Caroline said, turning to Ariane. “Do you know that you made the cover of the
Gay Paris Gazette
?”

“I did?”

“Well not you, per se. There was an entire article about last Tuesday’s free concert, and it’s illustrated with a picture of the crowd dancing. The picture focuses on Jean-Michel’s Charles. Do you want to see it?”

Ariane laughed. “Absolutely. But what I really want to know is how come you’re reading the
Gay Paris Gazette
.”

Caroline left the living room for her study without answering. When she returned, she had two copies of the
Gazette
in her hand. “I read it because I own the rag. It’s a long story for a rainy day, but I can give you the short version now. I lent money to a friend. He died of AIDS, that dreadful disease, in 1989. I inherited the paper, which turned out to be a profitable enterprise. So I kept it. Anyway, I’ve ordered two extra issues. I figured you and Charles would probably want to frame it or something.”

“Thank you. That’s so sweet. I’m sure Charles will appreciate it,” Ariane said as she unfolded the paper.

The photographer had caught the happy feel of the crowd by centering the picture on a group of four: Jean-Michel, Charles, Ariane, and Patrick. Only Charles and Ariane were recognizable. The picture caught Charles’s perfect profile as he was hugging Jean-Michel. He had also captured Ariane’s lovely smile as she stood next to Charles but looked up to another man. That other man was Patrick, and he was holding her very close.

Caroline studied both Ariane’s and Peter’s expressions as they looked at the picture. Ariane smiled, probably remembering fondly precisely the moment when the shot had been taken. The photograph had captured an instant when she looked completely carefree, dancing with her friends. Peter’s face was devoid of any expression. He did not comment or ask who the man was. But he did ask when the photo had been taken.

“Last Tuesday,” Ariane said. “There was this huge party on the Place de la Bastille to celebrate the new ‘marriage for all’ law, and I went with the boys. We had a great time.”

Caroline realized that Ariane had no clue how furious Peter was. It was clear to Caroline that as far as Peter was concerned, Ariane should not have gone out with other men after he had claimed her as his. Ariane surely had not realized what type of relationship she had agreed to enter into.

For an instant Caroline got lost in her thoughts while studying Peter’s striking face. The cold-tempered men were the most dangerous. A hot-blooded one would scream and make a scene. He would demand an explanation, give a chance to apologize, and possibly engage in some passionate reconciliation sex. Cold-tempered men like Peter, on the other hand, were unpredictable. The only certain thing was that there would be a price to pay.

Caroline shuddered at the thought and prayed that her too-vivid imagination was leading her to the wrong conclusions.

They moved on to the dining room and shared the lunch Ariane had prepared. Caroline made Peter talk. She asked questions about his work, his field of research, and his university. Peter answered in great detail. Caroline was amused by the fact that men never change. If you made them talk about themselves, and if you appeared to listen as if it were the most interesting conversation you had ever had, there was no limit to the amount of information you could get out of them. Caroline asked about Mary and her giant boyfriend. Peter laughed and said that he could not exchange more than three words with the man before getting bored out of his skull. He admitted, however, that Mary was quite taken with him.

“I’m not sure how long this will last,” Peter said. “George just flew to New York and moved in with her. A bit too quickly, if you want my opinion. But Mary didn’t ask for my opinion, so for once, I didn’t volunteer it.”

“That’s amusing,” Caroline said.

“What is?” Peter asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

“That you think your sister is acting a bit too rashly by letting a man she barely knows move in with her while you…” She left the sentence unfinished and indicated with a gesture of her hands that there was no need to elaborate.

“While I what?” Peter sounded annoyed.

For a university professor, this man was really slow, thought Caroline. “While you move into Ariane’s place when you’ve known her no longer than your sister has known George.”

Caroline watched Peter smile as he finally understood what she had said.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “I hadn’t seen it that way. I have a double standard. I object to my sister letting a strange man move in with her while I find it perfectly reasonable for Ariane to let me move in with her.”

“Precisely,” said Caroline. “I suppose you worry about your sister because you don’t know what kind of man George is.”

“That’s right.”

Looking straight into his eyes to let him know that she meant business, she said, “So you’ll understand that I worry about Ariane because I’m not sure what kind of man you are.”

“Do you two realize that I’m sitting at the table with you?” Ariane asked. “It’s very annoying to be talked about as if I weren’t here.”

Caroline ignored Ariane’s remark and kept staring at Peter, daring him to answer her and to tell her that Ariane would be safe with him.

“Oh, seriously,” said Ariane. “I’ll go get dessert, and I would appreciate it if this stare-down contest was over by the time I get back.”

As soon as Ariane left the room, Caroline let her mask fall.

“Peter, I know perfectly well what type of man you are.”

“You do?”

“I was married to one just like you. You’re possessive, manipulative, and controlling. You’re ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what you want. Those are qualities that I looked for in a man, and I respect that type of dedication when it comes to one’s professional life. What I’m not happy with is that your… controlling nature extends to the private sphere. I know precisely the type of relationship you have in mind, and I can tell you it is not appropriate for Ariane.”

“And you know that because?” Peter’s voice was icy.

Caroline toyed for a second with the idea of telling him about Ariane’s disastrous first experience and thought better of it. He did not love Ariane. He just wanted to possess her. If she gave him any information, he would use it to his advantage. He would be more devious in his controlling ways. The less he knew, the better. She hoped he would try to come on too strong. If he did, Ariane would get a chance to recognize the signs sooner.

“I know because I was the type of woman who played games too. I know the type that enjoys the kind of man you are, and she’s not that type. She won’t submit to you, or if she does, she’ll be broken and you won’t like your toy anymore.”

“I guess we’ll have to see about that.”

Caroline didn’t answer and was wearing her sweet little-old-lady face when Ariane walked back into the room with three dessert plates and the crème caramel. “Ah, le dessert!” she said, all smiles for Ariane. She was giving them a week. After that she was going to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Ariane.

In the meantime, she would enjoy the crème caramel and go take a long nap.

She was feeling more and more tired these days. But what could you expect? The machine was old, and there were no more spare parts she could replace that would make her last longer. Shaking away her pessimistic thoughts about her life expectancy, she took her first bite of the dessert and said, “C’est délicieux, comme d’habitude.”

Chapter 11
Ariane

ARIANE AND PETER LEFT MADAME Caroline’s house after lunch, and since the weather was finally starting to warm up a bit, Ariane suggested they go for a walk or take a bus ride around Paris.

“I’m still jet lagged,” Peter said. “I’d rather stay home if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever you decide is fine with me. Actually I could use a nap. For some strange reason, I haven’t been getting much sleep at night.”

“Are you complaining?” His tone of voice was very cold.

“Oh, God, no!” said Ariane, laughing as she locked the door behind them. “I’m joking. What’s with you? Have you lost your sense of humor?”

“Yes. Actually, I lost it just before lunch.”

“Why?”

“You try to figure it out since you’re so smart and witty.”

Ariane stopped and looked at him. She had a quick temper, but she had learned to keep it in check through teaching the difficult teenagers of a vocational school. If she had not, she would have happily slapped a few of them, and that type of behavior was frowned upon by the French Ministry of Education. So she counted to ten in her head, took a deep breath, and said with the most pleasant tone she could muster, “Listen to me, Peter. I realize that unlike you I do not have the experience of sharing my life with someone for a decade. As a result, I’m not as familiar as you are with the proper way to interact with a partner. What I do know, however, is that I’m no mind reader. So if you have something to say to me, say it. If there is something I did or did not do that annoys you, tell me. If you do, then I will know what the issue is, and I will probably modify my behavior accordingly to try to make you happy. On the other hand, if you don’t, I will probably continue to aggravate you because I will have absolutely no clue what I’m doing that annoys you.”

“You really have no idea?”

The look on his face was so incredulous that she almost laughed out loud. She stopped herself by chewing on her lower lip because she guessed he would not have taken it well if he thought she found his pouting amusing.

“No. Seriously, I don’t.”

She counted to thirty this time in her head as she waited for him to answer. Then she grew tired of watching him glare in silence. Instead of lashing out and calling him a sulky moody ass, she decided to retreat to her bedroom.

Peter followed her, taking the steps two-by-two and reaching the landing only a couple of seconds after her. He caught her by an arm violently enough to make her swing around and face him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me when we’re having a discussion,” Peter growled.

Ariane took a step back and rubbed her arm where he had grabbed her.

“What discussion? I talk to you, and you just stand there. What’s the matter with you?” she asked as she walked backwards toward her bedroom.

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter with me.” He growled. “I don’t share. I have never shared and I never will.”

Ariane tried to protest. “But…”

“Listen to me! Two weeks ago I told you I wanted you so much that I was willing to turn my life upside down for you. Do you remember what you said when I asked you if I should?”

“Yes, I do,” Ariane said softly. “I said that I would like that very much.”

“When you did that, did you not make a commitment to
me
?”

“Yes, I did.” She reached out to caress his face.

“And then you can’t even keep your skirt on for two weeks waiting for me to return? You have to go partying with other men. You have no idea how that makes me feel.”

“That’s what you’re mad about?”

“Yes, and don’t give me any crap about Jean-Michel and Charles being gay, because there’s a third man in that picture. And he’s holding you very tight, and the way you look makes it clear that you enjoy it.”

“Oh my God, you’re jealous of Patrick!”

An insidious guilty feeling overtook her. Not because she had enjoyed dancing with Patrick that night, but because she had actually very much enjoyed more than that. Judging by his reaction to her touching Patrick in public while fully clothed, Ariane figured Peter would really lose it if he knew that they had finished the night together in her bedroom.

“Who’s Patrick?” Peter asked, his tone almost back to normal.

Thinking about that night again, Ariane lowered her eyes for an instant. When she locked her gaze on his again, he said, “Oh, I knew it.”

His voice was so low that Ariane really only guessed at his words. Her breath was becoming shorter. She could not understand why, but she was getting very turned on by the rage seeping out of Peter. How sick was that? “He’s my ex. We’re trying to be friends. It’s over now.” She reached forward to touch him again.

“You’re damn right it’s over now,” he said, unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor. “Now you’re mine.” He removed his shirt.

Standing naked and very aroused in front of her, he continued his diatribe as he unzipped the back of her dress, pulled it over her head and sent her underwear flying across the room. “From now on, no one else will be touching you! I own you. You hear me? When I’m not with you, no one, not even your gay buddies, can lay as much as a finger on you.” He pushed her onto the bed, pinned both her arms over her head and pushed into her violently in one thrust. “Is that clear?”

Ariane bucked against him, adding to the strength of the collision of their bodies. She gasped, surprised by how good that felt. “Yes. It’s clear.”

At that instant, her mind separated from her body. Even though she knew there was something terribly wrong going on with her, she was unable to help herself. She so craved his violence that she was purposely going to fuel his fire.

“He stayed the night,” she whispered and mentally braced herself for the impact of that confession.

Peter’s body froze. Then he raised his torso, and still leaning on her arms, he gazed into her eyes. She could see that he was barely in control of his fury.

He pulled out of her and then pushed back in more brutally than the first time. She bucked to meet him again, and her entire body started to shake.

Panting and pulling out again, he asked, “He what?”

“He spent the night in my bed, but…”

“But what?” He thrust himself back in, hard.

Ariane whimpered. There was barely enough air in her to answer. “He just slept there. He didn’t make love to me.”

Peter froze again. “I’m not sure you realize how lucky you are that that man’s a fool.” He lay down on her, crushing her with all his weight.

Slowly, he freed her arms. First she remained still, unsure what to do next.

Feeling brave, she took his head in her hands and gently stroked his lips with a thumb before she asked, breathlessly, “Do you crave my tenderness as much as I crave your violence?”

The question seemed to leave him speechless.

She smiled and tilted her hips towards him. “Do you want me to beg you to crush into me again? Because if you do, I will.”

“God, no. Today you won’t have to beg.” He sucked on her thumb and thrust into her again so hard that Ariane thought he must have used all the strength that he could muster.

Knowing he liked it better that way, she kept her eyes open as he pushed her over the edge and her entire body shuddered with his.

They lay panting in each other’s arms, and then he rolled on his side, bringing her along. He nibbled on her lower lip and then covered her mouth with his. He caressed her lips with his tongue, and she moaned in his mouth. She adored his kisses.

While she had introduced him to cooking, he was teaching her about kissing.

After French Cooking 101, there was Advanced French Kissing.

She was happy to be the only student. She didn’t like to share either.

She wondered what she would have to do to make it last.

Maybe she would need to cross some lines to get detention.

***

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Born in Manhattan, Olivia Rigal spent her youth going back and forth between the United States and France. She lived and studied law in both countries. While studying she kept herself busy with a variety of jobs. She worked in the Clignancourt Flea Market as well as in a Parisian recording studio. In Manhattan, she was a dog groomer and then an administrative assistant in a famous English auction house.

Olivia settled in France to raise her family. She travelled throughout South East Asia and has a special fondness for Laos and Thailand. When her law practice does not keep her busy in Paris, she runs away to write novels in her Florida home next to MacArthur Beach State Park.

In December 2012 she started publishing short novels in English as an independent. Early 2014, she began translating them into French. The stories she tells stand alone. However her characters often meet so you can run into them again in several stories.

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