Gastien Pt 1 (36 page)

Please write to me soon. Your letters will also be a highlight in my life. I wish I could give you a hug. Since I can’t, I will just say:

Stay happy and know that I love you,

Gastien”

One week after being measured, his clothes arrived. He was presented with seven pairs of trousers, twenty shirts, three brushed flannel nightshirts, fine linen undergarments, and the softest socks he had ever put on. Also, two new pair of boots with leather that felt like velvet. Gastien could not believe all of the clothes. It was way too much!

Jean Luc stopped by most evenings, just to talk for about a half hour or so, saying it was nice to have a male on the property to get him away from all the woman talk. That night, Gastien protested all the new clothes. Jean Luc just laughed, putting his hand on Gastien’s shoulder.

“I want you to have them, Gastien. You are a very handsome man! You deserve to look your best. Please. I don’t have a son. Let me treat you like one.” What could Gastien say to that?

Gastien got paid weekly for his time. They had agreed on a price per painting and Jean Luc just divided it up. That way, Gastien had money when he went into town. Every week he went to his bank box. On his days off, he did go into Paris. Most work nights he stayed on the property. He found that if he caroused on his two days and nights off he was fine. He was usually tired by the end of the day.

The weeks went on. Vivienne did get bored at times. Still, most of the time, she was a good model. Sometimes Gastien would talk to her, asking her about life growing up on the estate, her fiancé
,
her interests, just to help her pass the time.

One day they were talking about her upcoming marriage, when she burst into tears. Gastien was shocked. “Did I say something to hurt or scare you, Vivienne?”

“
Non
,
non
, it is not that.”

He came and sat beside her, offering her a handkerchief from the bureau. She dabbed at her eyes. “What is wrong, Vivienne?” he asked gently.

“Please stop talking about my fiancé!” she sobbed. “I don’t want to talk about him!”

“Ah. Well, we will give Prince Charming a rest then. How’s that?” He figured she was starting to get scared of marrying and moving away.

“He is not Prince Charming, Gastien. You are! You are!” She threw herself against him as he sat there on the couch.

“
NON!
Non
, Vivienne, please. Do not do this, it is wrong to present yourself to me,
chèri
!” He tried to pry her off of him.

“Please just kiss me,” she pleaded. “Just once! If you kiss me just once, then I will be satisfied. My fiancé is a nice man, but I want you! You are so exciting!”

Gastien sighed. He managed to get himself untangled from her arms and stood up. “Vivienne, listen to me! I cannot kiss you. What would your parents say? They trust me! They have hired me, and I need this job! Please don’t jeopardize my painting career. You think I am exciting, but really, what have you seen that excites you so? I sit, stare, and paint for hours. Then I eat dinner, go for a walk, talk to your father, and go to bed. That is not very exciting for a young woman like you. You are imagining that I am more than I am.”

Gastien was in a near panic. He could not have this happen! She did not need to know how much fun he really had! He needed to make her see him as extremely focused and dull. He could not lose this money! “By the end of the day I stink like turpentine and many days I simply stink, because I am totally involved in my paints.
Oui
, I have been told I am handsome. But do you want to just spend your life looking at me while I paint? That is what I will be doing. Painting, day and night.” No answer. “Well, do you?”

She looked up at him. “
Oui
. I would be happy just looking at you.”

Mon Dieu
! What was wrong with women? Gastien laughed. “Well that is flattering, but truly you would not be. You are very pretty, I am honored, but this is a simple crush.” She shook her head violently. Gastien continued, “Your future is with your husband. I live in a world without running water or toilets, Vivienne. I sometimes don’t know when I will eat. You would never have a new dress.” That got her attention. “
Non
! Not a single one. All of my money goes for paints.” He lied. “In fact, if I married you, I would sell all of the dresses and hats you own to buy more paint. I am serious. Every, single one. I have no time for such niceties.”

She smiled. “Well, perhaps you aren’t my Prince Charming then.”

“That is correct,
cherie
. I wish I could live up to that, but I am sadly lacking.”

“You could be my lover, though, for about a month before the wedding. No one would know,” she whispered.

Foutre
! Did she know how badly he would like to sample that firm blonde body? Damn it! “Vivienne, please. You embarrass me, and you embarrass yourself! I am not going to be your lover. I want you to go home now and reconsider. Do not come back tomorrow, unless you have resolved this in your mind. If this continues, I will tell your father and mother. I can’t have my career ruined just when it is starting.”

“You wouldn’t!” she exclaimed fearfully.

Gastien wore his most stern look. “I would. Don’t try me.”

“Why don’t you want me? Aren’t I pretty enough?” She looked at him with those huge blue eyes and Gastien thought his knees would buckle. How do I find the strength to turn down someone so delicious? Especially when she is so obviously offering herself to me? He kept the stern glare.

“
Oui
, you are very pretty. If the circumstances were different, and you were a peasant, I would be delighted. You are my employer’s daughter. You are gentry. I am not. End of story.”

“Gastien, please listen to me – “

“Please leave and consider tonight if you want to come back and talk no more of this, or if you want to test me about telling your parents. Now, go.”

“You are very cruel!” she cried, as she walked to the door.

“On the contrary. I am being very kind. One day you will hopefully realize that.”

As she left, slamming the door, Gastien sank down into the easy chair. Sweet Jesus! He was definitely going into Paris tonight to get laid. He would have to increase his nocturnal visits to the 6
th
in an effort to keep himself sated. Godammit, why did women have to be so persistent? They were worse than men! Gastien sighed. He decided to take a bath, get dressed, eat his meal, and get into town. He was going to need a woman with a lot of stamina tonight. He knew if he went to certain establishments he would see upper class women with or without their mates there. Someone would be interested. They always were.

Later that night, after returning home and going to bed, he had a nightmare. In it, he was once again homeless. He could feel the hunger burning in his stomach. Oh, the stink of the streets and his body! The garbage bins were full of rats, but he found some food and ate it anyway. As soon as he ate it, he was vomiting. As he knelt to eat the vomit, a rat tore into his leg. Soon several rats were on him, eating him alive. He woke up hollering, finding himself covered in sweat.

This was the nightmare that had started shortly after the rooming house had burned down, once he had been forced to move into the squalid room he last occupied in Paris. It seemed to come to him in his sleep at least monthly, each time growing in intensity and seeming more real. This time was the worst so far. Panting, eyes wild, Gastien checked all over his body for bites. He knew it was not real, yet his brain could not process the fact. He needed to go to the bathroom, but he was afraid to get out of bed. Finally, he forced himself out and lit a gaslight.

Coming back to bed, he decided to leave the light on. He huddled in bed, covers wrapped tightly around him, shivering from fear. Oh, God, it was so real! Why could he not shake this dream? He did not sleep anymore that night. He lay there thinking about what he could do to ensure that he would never be homeless or hungry again. There were no guarantees. Gastien knew he would rather die than relive those days again. When dawn finally came, Gastien went for a walk. Maybe the fresh air would calm his mind.

Unfortunately for Gastien, this nightmare would repeat throughout the next several months, gathering in both intensity and frequency. By February he would be haunted by it at least weekly. He would try drinking some liquor before bed, hoping that would keep the dreams away. It wouldn’t help. It seemed the nightmare would come whenever it wanted to come. Days would be fine, but the nights when the nightmare arrived would be pure hell. .

However, on this day in September, Vivienne did return. She apologized, saying it would not happen again. They finished the portrait over the next several weeks without further incident.

One night in late October, Gastien mentioned to Jean Luc that his birthday was November 6th and he would be twenty. Jean Luc sighed. “I would love to be that young again! You have your whole life ahead of you!” They were in the habit of sitting and having a couple glasses of sherry in the evenings. Sometimes Jean Luc stayed a couple of hours. Gastien enjoyed listening about Jean Luc’s visits to other countries, and how he had acquired his fortune.

On the night of Gastien’s birthday, he was invited to the main house for dinner. After dinner, Jean Luc presented him with a new épée, foil and sabre, all three. Gastien was beside himself with pleasure. He sorely missed fencing. He also knew he needed to get back into it to stay in shape and keep his strength. Painting all day did not build muscle.

“Jean Luc, I should say you shouldn’t have, but I want these too much! I will just say
merci beaucoup
!” Gastien‘s eyes danced as he tested the balance and bend of the foil. “I hope you know you will have a crazy man on your property, practicing all of the fencing moves on his own daily!”

Jean Luc laughed, clapping his hands. “I am so glad you like it. I remember you telling me you used to fence every day growing up. I love to fence myself! Perhaps we will exercise together on occasion. It is even more fun if you have a fencing partner to spar with!

“Oh, that would be fantastic!” cried Gastien. His youth really showed in his enthusiasm that night. Jean Luc gazed at him wistfully. He wished he could be that excited about life again, that young. He wished he could have ever looked that good!

So the days and nights went. The next person to be painted was Véronique. She had been a thorn in Gastien’s side since the first night of his arrival. Whenever he saw her outside he would try to go in another direction. She was too sensual, too sure of herself. Very dangerous. Véronique was asking to be ridden, and Gastien very much wanted to be the rider. She was like a wild horse. Gastien knew it would be a challenge and a pleasure to tame her.

Now he had to spend days with her in his studio alone. He could hardly say she needed a chaperone! Just thinking about her gave him an erection so rock hard it actually caused him pain. Damn her anyway! She was now sixteen, plenty old enough to be ridden, but she was also Jean Luc and Annah’s daughter. He would not succumb. His hand was getting quite a work out at night in bed, now that she was in his studio every day. Nevertheless, sometimes she got him so excited that he got hard anyway while he was painting. Even worse, he knew that she knew it. He could feel her staring at his crotch. She did not even have the decency to look away when he caught her.

One day Gastien’s patience evaporated. Feeling her stare once again, his temper rose.

“Please put your eyes somewhere besides my
bite
!” he said roughly. “Be a lady for Christ’s sake!”

She slowly turned her eyes to his. “Excuse me? Did you actually think I was looking at your “
bite
” as you so crassly call it? What do you take me for? I was simply bored and day dreaming.” She looked at him like he was something she should scrape off of her shoe. “You take way too much for granted just because you are good looking. Perhaps it is you who needs to remember to be a gentleman!” Then she returned her stare to his crotch. Finally he moved the easel more in front of her. Dammit! Now he could not see her! He moved it back.

“Am I making you nervous, Gastien? Is there some kind of problem?” she inquired sweetly.

He sat his paints and brush down. He slowly walked to a chair and sat down. “
Oui
, there is a problem, Véronique. I am very tired of your games. Please stop it right now! Being a tease is not appropriate for a lady.”

“I am not a lady. If you don’t want to play games, then close the shutters and come here. I want you to be the one to deflower me.” She held his eyes and pushed her bodice lower. “Don’t tell me you have not wondered what these would feel like in your hands, how it would feel to be inside me.”

“You talk like a whore!” snapped Gastien. “I am not interested in deflowering virgins! I have my own women in Paris. I don’t need to play with little girls!”

Her face flamed. “I am not a little girl!”

“Then stop pouting and throwing tantrums when you don’t get your way! I don’t want you!” cried Gastien. Liar, his mind said.

She laughed. “Oh, you want me all right. I can see it in your trousers, and in your eyes! Have it your way. I can wait. Sooner or later, you will take me.”

“Let’s just get the day over with,” Gastien said darkly.

He did some of his best on her portrait that day. For Véronique, he wanted her hair down. It was curlier than the other two females, blonde and wild, as were her blue eyes. Everything about her was untamed. He had to paint her that way. To paint her like a lady would make the painting ring untrue. He only hoped Jean Luc and Annah would understand that.

“Pull up your bodice. I need it to be in the same place every time.”

“Why don’t you fix it then?”

Gastien strode over, grabbed her bodice and pulled it up. They both felt the heat. Véronique’s lips parted in shock at the intensity. He pulled his hand away quickly, as if it was burned. He turned his back, hurrying back to the easel. He continued painting in spite of the roaring in his ears.
Foutre
! Some day, after I am no longer employed here, I will give her what she deserves and then some, he thought. Then he was ashamed. Of course he wouldn’t! Jean Luc was too kind to him to do that.