A Rage to Live (16 page)

A few hundred yards and Cressida regained some control over herself. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘We’re going to celebrate, you and I, the purchase of my first Picasso. And what a Picasso. Something really to celebrate. I will rename it for us, call it Circe and the Minotaur, and then you can tell me, show me, all the intimate things you feel about my painting.’

Cressida recognised a certain look in his eye. A look he had never had for her before but which had always been there for the very beautiful and elegant women he used to have staying with him in the beach house on Amiable Bay. From the recesses of her mind came a memory of Rosemary speaking about Kane: ‘He’s a devil with women.’ Even at the age of seven she had been enchanted with the idea that Kane, her best friend, the man she adored, could be part devil with a woman. It had always triggered wild images of what he did with them. A child’s dreams, later turned to fantasies which always thrilled her and mustered her courage for the adventure she knew he would some day take her on. A flash of the past and Cressida was suddenly brought to her senses. Not a devil but a Minotaur, she told herself, and imagined herself as the Circe of the painting, lying so licentiously waiting for him.

She was keeping pace, though not easily, with Kane’s long strides, and finding it miraculous that he was there, holding her hand and taking her along with him for a celebration. Of course she would be his Circe. ‘Cressida, call me Cressida. Remember me, I’m Cressida, not Circe,’ kept ringing in her head, but she said nothing.

Kane, sensing that his waif was no longer being dragged along but was going with him willingly, smiled. It whetted his appetite even more for the young girl he had dubbed Circe. Seduction, only a mere thought before, was now very much on his mind. A pretty, unadorned, young, and he guessed innocent face, captivated by an important erotic painting. This was becoming rather fun. He was feeling the thrill of the chase.

Half a block later, he opened the door to a black, sleek and elegant Rolls-Royce. Inside it smelled of leather and attar of roses, and the faint scent of an expensive cigar. Kane removed his hat and tossed it on the ledge under the rear window. He ran his fingers through his hair, turned down his collar and opened his coat. Looking now at Cressida, he removed the wet beret from her head, touched her sleeve. Her raincoat was soaked through. ‘Circe, you will have to cast a spell upon yourself not to catch pneumonia.’

‘Why Circe? Why do you call me Circe?’ she asked.

‘Why not? I found you in front of a Circe, and clearly that same goddess has cast a spell on you. And you seem to me to be a Circe yourself. She’s the goddess of witchcraft, skilled in all enchantments. Picasso’s lady seems to me to be a Circe – she has enchanted me. Then I find you not once, but twice on a Paris street. If you have not enchanted me, cast some spell over me, what am I doing with you? Why are you in my car? Oh, yes, I shall call you Circe. All Circes are dangerous women. Maybe not as dangerous and clever as the legendary sorceress of Greek mythology, but I am sure equally as exciting. At least, I hope so.’ He raised her hand and kissed it, and though Cressida knew that he was toying with her, she was helpless to draw her hand away.

‘That Circe had the power to transform men into beasts. Odysseus, who visited her island of Aeaea from Troy, was protected by the herb Moly, the only thing together with his wits that saved him. He made her restore his men to human form, she did because she wanted him to make love to her. The same way you imagine that Minotaur is going to take the lady in the painting. In much the same manner you imagine I am going to devour you.’

Cressida, astonished that he should know what was in her mind, made an attempt to speak. He stopped her. ‘No protests please.’ And raised his hand to emphasise that he meant it.

‘Odysseus did make love to Circe, but not before extracting many promises from her. I have no Moly to save me, so you must be gentle with me. Gentle or outrageously seductive.’ Again he smiled at Cressida then continued, ‘He was her ardent lover and she was his protectress for many years. The fruit of their loins three sons – Agrius, Latinus, and Toegonus. I did tell you, dangerous but exciting women, all those called Circe.’

Kane, high on his purchase, feeling incredibly attracted towards this young girl, and clearly thrilled to own the Picasso. He gazed into Cressida’s fresh young face and saw again that she was still overwhelmed by her own erotic feelings, triggered by the painting, and now, he sensed, by him. She was fanning his ardour, his curiosity, with her sexuality. She was indeed a Circe, casting her own very special erotic spell on him. How sublime to possess this beautiful young creature.

He placed her beret on the window shelf next to his hat. Gazing into her eyes, he cautiously took advantage of his position and unbuttoned his coat. He was further enchanted by Cressida’s stillness, her willingness for him to take her over. He removed her coat from her shoulders and ordered his driver to turn up the car’s heater. It registered with him that she was not particularly well dressed. A white silk shirt, a simple brown skirt. He somehow didn’t mind.

‘You want to be made love to by me, don’t you? All things erotic, you want to taste them, don’t you? All the many and varied sexual acts, aren’t you hungry to experience them?’ Questions to excite her lust put to Cressida with the very same glint of promise she had seen in the very human eyes of the Minotaur. She was tense with anticipation. He was cruel to taunt her. He knew it, but didn’t care. He would have her, and he wanted her to know how well.

With a crooked index finger placed under her chin, he raised her head and looked into her face. ‘You can’t lie to me, you know. If you lie to me, I will open this car door now and send you away. Tell me the truth, and we’ll have a grand time.’ All this was said while using his other hand to unbutton her blouse.

‘Yes.’ A simple yes, with no hesitation whatsoever in her voice, and in fact insinuating a great deal more. All of it erotic.

Kane slipped his hand inside her blouse. She wore no bra. Her breasts were larger than he’d imagined they would be. They excited him further when he opened her blouse wide to reveal her bosom. He was immediately struck by how voluptuous, raunchy even, her breasts were, so rounded, full, heavy, erotic, very sexual. He yearned to suck on the shiny-smooth, pale pink, cone-shaped nimbus. Nipples to be tweaked and taunted with fingers and mouth, to excite lust in his Circe, this innocent-looking young girl with a body hungry for a man like him.
He liked that contrast of a hungry sex-starved young creature who looked pure, untouched. What a delight to watch a young girl like that take his cock in her mouth, to lick it, suck it into herself. And for the girl? To feel her so soft moist mouth filled with his penis or scrotum, their mutual moment of amazement that they could give such pleasure, that they could be so wicked. There had been other young things, often. His judgment of Cressida was based on a history of young flesh. He sensed his newly discovered Circe would be good, so very good, at sex. It was her willingness to please him, her hunger for sex that showed in her eyes. It always showed in their eyes.

He was amused by the way he’d picked her up. It had not been premeditated but precipitated by her passion for the Picasso. He was attracted to her because she had been seduced by the Minotaur, had so wanted to be the voluptuous nude, ready and waiting to be devoured by sex. Because he knew that this young girl was ready to be set free sexually. Kane looked at his watch. Too little time to do justice to his find.

Slowly, quite deliberately, he buttoned her blouse, never taking his gaze from her. ‘You don’t say much?’

‘I think I’m overwhelmed.’

He liked that. It made him laugh. He liked her. Kane knew she would always tell him the truth. That was refreshing. The women who usually took his fancy were sexual playmates, born and reared to be players in the game of seduction. Their attitude, more often than not, was coloured by lust or ego, libido, rarely by love.

‘Are you free?’ he asked Cressida.

‘Yes.’

‘Good. We’ll have an adventure, you and I.’

She smiled. That first smile she gave Kane enchanted him. ‘Yes, an adventure. I’ll whisk you away. Like the Minotaur in my Picasso, I am going to take possession of your body and soul, make you mine as no other man has ever made you his. The world outside us will stop. I’ll make it stop. I am going to show you what a real erotic adventure is.’

‘Do you think I don’t know?’ she asked, and in her question he caught a bite, a certain sophistication, a sureness of herself he had not expected. He liked that. His Circe had regained herself.

‘No, I don’t.’ He answered her as honestly as she had answered him.

‘You seem very sure.’

‘Oh, I am. Only the truth, remember?’ She confirmed that she did remember by a nod of her head. His smile was lascivious and excited her. She felt as if he were flaying her. That every nerve end in her body must be exposed for him, for her too, so she might enjoy him utterly.
‘Has a man ever placed round your pretty throat an invisible collar of gold, one that was impossible to break? And from it a lead of the same gold links? Erotic jewellery to lead you by?’

He watched the astonished look on her face, the pretty, slender and shapely hand instinctively go to her throat, finger it searching for the collar. Kane did not wait for an answer. Instead he continued, ‘I will, and you will be my sexual slave. I’ll like that. It will be very exciting to be your sexual master and I will reward you beyond imagination.’

He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand and then removed her hand from her throat and caressed her neck. She did not flinch and he knew the collar he had suggested was already in place. ‘Like the Minotaur, you make me want to kick up my heels, raise the dust, charge after you, make you a prisoner of my lust. Do you trust me to do all I want with you, for you, for me, for us?’

What had he expected for answer? A part of him wanted her to push past him and dash from the car; the other part wanted the answer that she gave him: ‘With my life.’

Who was she, this beautiful young thing who clearly felt something more than an adventure was happening for them? This mere girl who could create in him a new and fresh kind of sexual excitement. That this should happen … was there a joke being played on him, Kane, the man who liked his women sophisticated, worldly, chic beyond measure, sexually decadent, erotically depraved.

‘Instinct has made me dub you Circe, and I do believe you have indeed cast a spell on me. I think I’ll kiss you. Would you like me to kiss you?’

Her answer, with a hint of breathlessness in it, was, ‘Yes, please.’

Cressida heard herself and wondered at her inability to have said anything else. She asked herself, Is this me, Cressida, speaking? Agreeing, wanting, all but asking, begging? Cressida giving herself, just as Kane predicted she would? It excited her to think that she was that very person. To be kissed by Kane who thought
her
the enchantress. How amusing when it had been Kane all along who had cast the erotic spell on her and so many years ago.

‘Are you alone here in Paris?’

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘In Europe, I’ve been on the grand tour.’

‘Good, we’ll go off somewhere together. Would you like that? To live for a few days alone with me in some idyllic place. I’ll create a labyrinth of our own to make love in. Our lives will be sex and glorious food and music. We’ll sup wine that the gods themselves would consider ambrosia. We’ll forget who and what we are and live only for each other. Do you know who I am?’

Cressida smiled. ‘Oh, yes. Kane Chandler, one of the great maestros of the world.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You know how to flatter.’

‘I’m only telling the truth.’

‘You have charm, and know how to use it. I was right. You are the lady on the canvas in the window. A lady casting spells to seduce. I can’t say that I don’t like your flattery but find it too bad that you should know me. I would have liked to have remained the anonymous lover with you. Your Minotaur and nothing else. Will you pretend that for me? From midnight tonight, when I sweep you away into a private world with room in it for only you and me. It’s only fair, you see, because I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know the you before the Picasso became the centre of your world.’

‘How selfish.’

‘Yes, completely, do you mind?’

‘I think I should, but I don’t, not at this moment anyway.’

They remained silent for several seconds, Kane surprised by how astute she was and pleased that the erotic attraction between them was stronger than any morality. Still gazing into each other’s eyes, their silence was taking on a new significance. Once sensed, he immediately broke it.

‘I have one more concert, this evening at the Opera House. I’ll see that you have a seat, and afterwards … well, we will have to see what I will do with you, where we will go.’

‘Have I no say in this?’

‘None whatsoever. The invisible collar. It’s already in place, and I hold the lead. Remember?’ It had been said as a provocative tease, but was it? He found the rather tacky pornographic cliché freshly erotic. This girl was giving him great fun. He placed the back of his hand gently on her cheek and caressed her. ‘There is a light supper before the concert on the grand staircase of the Opera House for some of my friends, a few important people. A thank you and farewell in my honour. An hour no more, then we can leave. I’ll rest in my dressing-room.’

‘And me?’

‘And you will be with me. I thought you understood that?’ He looked at her now with a more critical eye, touched the straggly wet hair. ‘An evening dress, one suitable for a gala. A Burberry? I don’t think that will do.
Le tout
chic Paris will be there.’ He laughed and Cressida was offended and didn’t know why.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘You will not be what Paris will expect me to have on my arm.’

‘I’ll return to my hotel and change,’ she answered somewhat
pathetically, fearful that he was about to change his mind and leave her. A half-hour flirtation, was that what this was all about? She could hardly bear it.