Folie à Deux (17 page)

“I do. It’s great,” I say because so far it is nothing short of amazing. It bares similarities to home but is a fully functioning life for people who know nothing and care nothing for what takes place in my world. There is a comfort in knowing that everything around me is so far removed from my sphere of existence, the burdens that make me miserable are inconceivable here.

I hold my own in a one-sided conversation for a while until she thankfully asks, “Do you want to take a nap?”

I lie down and close my eyes simultaneously. She returns from the bathroom, closes the door behind her and lies beside me. I feel the warmth of her bare skin as she drapes her leg across the center of my body.

She whispers, “Don’t worry, Luce won’t be home until after work. Agnès said around four thirty.” She undresses me as I lie still and wraps her warm mouth around me. With my eyes still closed I feel as though I might fall asleep until she increases her pace. Right as she knows I am about to come she stops, slithers up next to me again, pulls me on top of her and I realize that she already has a condom in her hand. After she opens it she hands it to me serving as foreplay so I put it on and myself inside her. Even though she assures me that no one is home she is more subdued than usual, finishing quickly before I tumble to the side against the wall and fall asleep. I feel the gentle tug of her pulling the very tip of the rubber and a few drops escape as I am completely uncovered.

The last thing I mumble before passing out is, “Don’t let me sleep too long. I love you.”

I am asleep immediately.

I awake from my nap confused. I have no idea where I am, the window wide open and I am naked. The breeze was nice before I fell asleep but now is overbearing. As I pull the sheet over me and stretch a bit I hear something indescribable from the other room. It is eerie and otherworldly. Only after listening intently am I able to discern words but can’t tell where one ends and the next begins.

Is it French? It doesn’t even sound European. I have nothing on which to base any assumption. Only because it constantly loops back on itself can I make out, “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo” from multiple voices and multiple volumes yet always with the same cadence. I’m paralyzed. If I leave the bed what will I find? If I stay what will find me? Where is Carla? Where is Luce? Who is Luce? What is, “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo?”

I lie motionless and hope this will stop. I grab my watch from the floor and check the time to have a beginning point for how long this continues. I hear it dissipate but then the volume increases with intensity. “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo,” I begin to pick out individual voices. I know there are at least two women but the group is predominantly male. As I focus on deciphering I become lost in the sound, feeling entranced until I snap myself awake. My survival may depend on remaining alert.

I move slowly, pausing every time the bed creaks, trying to pick up a change in the chant. Thankfully, nothing breaks, “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.” As soon as I’m out of the bed, I take ten minutes to dress thanks to intermittent pauses so I remain silent. I creep to the door and am about to turn the handle when the apartment suddenly becomes hushed.

I freeze again, this time better prepared for whatever may come through the door because at least I’m dressed. It falls completely silent distressing me anew. I crack the door slowly, just enough to see down the hallway.

Before I can make out who is coming the door opens and hits me in the head. I put my hand where it hurts trying to see around my wrist. I immediately feel another hand on my own and hear a familiar voice, “Oh my gosh, what happened? Why were you standing there?”

“Ouch, what the fuck is going on?” I say too loudly.

“Shhhh, Don’t curse.” Carla says.

I snap back, “We’re in France. Nobody knows what I said. What the fuck was that noise?”

“I guess you heard them?” she asks with what I think is a chuckle.

“Of course I heard them, what the hell is that?” I say. I’m tired, scared, cranky and now my head hurts.

“Relax,” she says as she kisses my forehead an inch lower than the pain.

“Come meet Luce,” she says taking my hand and leading me into the hall.

“No, no, wait, I’m not leaving this room until you tell me what that was. I’m freaking out,” I protest driven by confusion. I’m not sure I’ve ever raised my voice to her but I’m not ok with
any of this. She grabs me by both shoulders and tells me again to relax which is having the opposite effect.

“Luce is a Buddhist, actually a priestess. She has an altar in her parlor and people come to pray. You heard her friends praying. I let them in but couldn’t tell you because you were asleep. I’m sorry, that must’ve been weird. Do you feel better after your nap?” Her voice calms me and I feel bad for snapping but she can’t override my foul mood.

“I guess I feel better,” not willing to concede much forgiveness.

“Come meet Luce please?” She says with a smile and a kiss on my right cheek.

I don’t want to meet Luce. Jet lag is making this difficult situation worse. There’s a variety of thoughts competing for prime space in my mind.

“Wait, is there a bunch of people out there?” I ask her with a nasty tone, able to put the first obstacle into focus.

“No, everyone is gone, it’s just Luce,” she says sweetly.

As I walk down the hall I notice different pictures on the walls than my first time past. When I turn the corner into the kitchen I see Luce sitting at the table, with what looks like a bowl of coffee cupped in both hands.

She stands up with a huge smile and says, “Eh, bonjour. Et vous, vous êtes Jacques, n’est-ce pas? Le neveu bien evidemment. Alors, enchantée de faire votre connaisance.” I don’t understand anything past, “Bonjour,” but her gestures are warm and welcoming as she leans in and gives me a kiss on each cheek. She turns to Carla and they begin conversing, clearly about me. Luce is almost sixty years old but looks younger. She’s top heavy, with a giant chest that I first feel when she kissed me enjoying each large breast as it brushed up against me. Her flowing blond hair smells pleasant, yet earthy. Every moment brings something newly overwhelming.

Over the next few days we visit some of the most beautiful places that I will ever see in my life. We agree to come back to Notre Dame de Paris and conduct our wedding ceremony sitting on the banks of the Seine with the cathedral in front of us. I raise the ring issue again because it bothers me, after crossing that off my mental checklist I move to the unshakeable anxiety that I only have three days to come up with vows. I’m tired of feeling inadequate and as though I’m constantly trying to catch up with my girlfriend. I feel the power imbalance and although I’m sure she has to feel the same, she never acknowledges any such feeling. She writes her own vows so even though she allows me to use traditional ones I know the bar she will set. Just a few days after arriving, I consider calling my parents to ask if I can come home. So much about my own life is foreign. I’m constantly fatigued from working just to be me.

We alternate our nights between going out and staying home in some unplanned enactment of tertian fever. Our trips are to either Paris or the quainter Fontainebleau. When we stay home we have dinner with Luce, sitting at the table for hours but since Luce does not speak English, she and Carla converse exclusively in French. Occasionally Carla will interpret for me during a lull but when I become bored I excuse myself. Television is pointless so I lie in bed and read the few magazines I brought for the plane.
I try to slip away inconspicuously and fall asleep alone, not often successfully.

Our third night at home instead of staying up with Luce, Carla follows me immediately into the bedroom, closes the door behind her and attacks me without a word. Her motions and gestures always have a sense of urgency but this particular night borders on ravenous. Her hands and mouth are ubiquitous making it impossible to focus on any singular sensation. Small moans escape her lips as she runs her tongue down every line of me.

After completely undressing me she pushes me back on the bed and strips herself also. She flips me over to my stomach and violently pulls my hips up so that my back is arched. She begins to kiss everything between my hips and thighs while her hands reach between my legs. She gropes my left nipple, pinching hard.

Pain momentarily overrides confusion. I involuntarily push back into her, wanting to apologize but she is undaunted. She slows to tease. Still on my elbows and knees, she mounts me.

The first thing I feel is her hair brush my shoulders and her crotch press against my sit bones. Her entire head of long wavy hair envelops me and I feel her tongue gently touch the crease formed by my compressed shoulder blades. She runs her tongue down the middle of my back and her hair follows after. Somewhere in the middle of my body I wonder how she’s going to conclude.

She anticipates my reaction by placing her hands on my hips preventing my lower body from collapsing when her mouth touches my asshole. I jump. The only place that I can go is forward, soliciting a sigh that signifies her tremendous satisfaction. Her mouth follows, allowing me no time to react before she is at the same feverish pace. She grabs me with her left hand aiming to gain control by stroking me. I wonder where her right hand is
an instant before I feel it at the middle of my back beginning its decent down the same crease her tongue first outlined.

I giggle almost uncontrollably every time her tongue flicks my taint. She laughs in between moans of approval. “I guess that tickles,” she says with disappointment in my juvenile reactions. I’m laying fully prostate now and she has used her knees to force mine apart. Parts of me that have never been exposed are now no longer my own. Her palm is lying flat on the bed with me on top of it and she knows that despite my laughing, some part of me is enjoying this.

She probes and caresses with her mouth while her free hand keeps me down. The massaging is working in circles that gradually move downward. When she reaches the very small of my back and I feel her dangling bracelet touch me, I panic. With her writer’s palm she moves down all the way into someplace that makes my heart pound. I feel the sweat bead on my forehead and my pulse in my ears.

Before any other physical reactions can take shape I feel her middle finger move in tiny small circles lubricated by saliva. My natural reaction is to bite the pillow underneath as she enters. I bite so hard my front teeth hurt. I clench every muscle below my waist just to find an instant of relief from the painful pleasure I cannot define. The pain feels steely to me. I want to describe it as the sound that a sword makes as it is unsheathed. She tries to use her other hand but my stomach blocks her, I drive my hips into the bed.

I wonder how far inside me she will travel. With each thrust she delves minutely deeper at barely perceptible intervals. Each plunge fills me with a renewed disgust. I lose track of how long this lasts, consumed with finding the apex of my pain. I think I might shit and try with all of my might not to let that happen
because although I have never felt embarrassment like this I am certain that type of release will be superlative.

With no warning she grabs my hips and pushes me to my side. She takes my leg and throws it over her head laying me flat on my back. I assume she’s going to climb on but instead, moves her body toward my head and lies on top of me in the sixty-nine position. I do what I imagine she wants and the second my tongue touches her she begins to move her hips in rhythm. She moves her hips faster and her whole body quivers which despite the repulsion still causes me to ejaculate in her mouth.

When I can think again, I am preemptively appalled at the thought of her telling me, “That was beautiful.” She lays her head on my thigh and I feel her mouth those exact words, my stomach reacts as always. It feels like a cramp and a spasm over top of nausea like something rotten and unwholesome was just force fed to me.