Perfect Freedom (8 page)

“Sure,” Stuart answered with a smile.

“It doesn't mean anything else, does it?”

It did, but it seemed a bit soon to explain to Robbie about fucking. Perhaps Michel had already done so. On the chance that he had, Stuart elaborated to demonstrate that there was no need for embarrassment or mystery. “It can mean other things in slang, anything to do with making love. You've seen people making love in movies, all the kissing and hugging and all that—the part you always say bores you. The French say
‘on baise'
even when it isn't actually kissing.”

“I see.” Robbie tried to keep his expression neutral as if he were digesting an ordinary bit of information. He saw his mother give his father an odd look as she cut in quickly with another remark about a house, leaving him to his thoughts. Michel had been right. There
was
something about the word he hadn't understood. He still didn't. He wasn't sure he wanted to. It sounded as if it were the sort of thing his mother didn't like him to be interested in. The afternoon had confused him thoroughly without being enjoyable.

It had all started with the word.
“Tu es trop jeune,”
Michel had taunted him when Robbie had won a game of
boules. “Tu ne sais pas baiser,”
he had added as if everybody didn't know how to kiss. Insults were exchanged. Action followed. Michel led the way around to the back of the hotel and summoned a plump little girl who was sitting on the steps of the house next door. She approached sullenly through a row of tomato plants. It was the same little girl who had let them watch her take a bath earlier in the summer. She had kept her legs pressed together so that she looked as if she had no pipi. He didn't want to do anything with her. Something furtive about his two companions made him nervous and after that everything became sort of blurred. He was sure they were doing something bad. Bad things could be fun sometimes but he didn't expect to have any fun with the girl around.

They went to a room in a part of the hotel Robbie didn't know. It was musty and hot and strange things began to happen. The little girl lay on her back on a rusty iron bed. Her skirt was up around her waist and she had nothing on under it. She again kept her plump legs pressed together so that she looked as if she had no pipi. Robbie turned his back on her. Michel took all his clothes off. Something was wrong with his pipi. It was surprisingly big and stuck out straight in front of him. He jeered at Robbie for hesitating to take his clothes off and the word cropped up again. How did he expect to kiss the little girl if he didn't get undressed? Robbie had no intention of kissing anybody but he took his clothes off to prove that he knew what it was all about. Michel sneered at him because his pipi was
mou.
Having a soft pipi also seemed to have something to do with the word. Michel tugged at it and, to Robbie's astonishment, it got bigger than he'd known was possible and also stuck out. He was afraid that it would stay that way but it felt very pleasant. Michel ran his hand rapidly back and forth on both of them, producing an odd tingling sensation that ended in a sort of spasm. Robbie was relieved to see that his pipi was returning to normal as a jet of liquid burst from Michel's. It looked as if he were trying to pee into the air. It was the sort of dirty thing he would do. Michel bragged about it. It proved that he was old enough to kiss. His pipi stopped sticking out.

This seemed to displease him. He made Robbie run his hand back and forth on it until it grew amazingly hard and stood up again. Robbie was pleased to learn how to do it. For a moment, there seemed to be some point to what they were doing. At least he had accomplished something.

“Now I'll show you,” Michel said. “Watch.”

He turned to the bed. Robbie didn't want to watch. The way the little girl lay there, inert but somehow expectant, annoyed him. She was stuck up. Complacent. It was a word he'd learned recently. That was what she was. He didn't want to have anything to do with her.

Michel lay on top of her. Robbie thought maybe they were going to wrestle but Michel began to pump his bare bottom up and down over her. It was ridiculous-looking. He would never want to be so silly. He was aware that the odd thing was happening to him again down there. It was amazing how big it could get and stand up by itself. The tingling sensation was very pleasant. You were apparently supposed to rub it when it got like that. He did so and had the spasm and it shrank back to normal again. It was better when Michel did it. They could do it together without the girl. It was having the girl with them that made it so bad. Boys could do things together but girls weren't supposed to see them with no clothes on. She was a bad little girl.

When Michel stood, she was still lying with her legs pressed together and her air of complacent expectancy. Robbie felt a little shiver of revulsion at the thought of touching her—what would she want of him?—but Michel didn't insist on his lying on top of her.

“Ça va,”
he said when Robbie told him he was too hot to stay in the dusty little room any longer.
“Maintenant tu sais baiser.”

His father's explanation that the word was used in many ways should have cleared up his confusion but it hadn't. Making love was something grown-ups did before they got married. His parents may have made love long ago before he was born but he was sure they'd never done the things he'd seen this afternoon. He couldn't imagine either of them with their pipis sticking out. From now on he must try to avoid looking at his father when he was naked. His big body suggested mysteries he wasn't ready to face. He should probably stop asking him so many questions, too. He was safer with his mother; she would never say anything that would remind him of the things he should feel ashamed or guilty about. He wanted to be as good as she thought he was. She could be very sharp to him when he wasn't. But the image remained of plump legs pressed together and of a bare bottom pumping up and down above them. What had they been doing?

After dinner, he didn't mind being told that it was his bedtime. He wanted to go to his room and find out if he could make it big and hard by himself.…

Having the money in the bank turned the property and M. Giraudon into an obsession for Stuart. He asked everybody at the Saturday evening gathering if they'd seen the old lunatic. He had mentioned to Odette that they were planning to settle here but now he told her about the deal in detail, including the disputed boundary. It was supposed to be bad luck to talk about something you wanted until you had it, yet there was nothing to be secretive about and he couldn't resist describing the beauties of the place. Having it to talk about relieved some of the sexual tensions between them. It was difficult to suppress all trace of intimacy with a girl you'd had, but since Helene's little outburst he'd been especially determined that his transgression should have no repercussions. The girl was obviously eager for further developments. Whether there would be any depended on chance and circumstances.

She listened to him, enthralled. During the week she had gone to the Gypsy to have her fortune told and the old crone had seen a man in her future and a business transaction involving great property. Since Stuart was the only man she was ever likely to know who might have great property, she had asked if the man was her lover. The Gypsy had muttered and made strange signs over her palm and said that she saw a lover and a husband. She could tell her no more. Now Stuart was talking about vast property—two hundred hectares, even if some of it wouldn't be his. She was sure that she was destined to play an important part in his life. She thought of her friend at the brothel. She often learned, things that nobody else knew.

“I think I might be able to find that man,” she said. “Giraudon? I'll try.”

Stuart almost threw his arms around her. It was the first positive reaction he had had. The sexual current surged up strong between them. He looked into invitingly dancing eyes. “I wish I could give you an enormous kiss. Finding him would be the best thing you could ever do for us.”

“When you look at me like that, there are many things I would do for you.” Her smile was a merry promise of future pleasure. “I've been waiting to tell you. I've found a widow who'll let me have a room for helping her around the house. I'll be able to move out of my friend's place. Will you come see me sometimes?”

“Perhaps when you're well established and you're sure the widow doesn't spy on you.” Whatever happened, Stuart intended to let enough time pass before their next meeting so that she couldn't think they were having a regular affair. By then, their little physical hunger for each other might have worn itself out. He smiled at her, making it as winning as he knew how. “Everything's going to work out for you. I'm glad. Now you've got to get me fixed up. It's tricky not having any routine. When I do, I'll know what I can do with my time. I have to be careful.”

As if to underline the point, Helene, who had been kissing Robbie goodnight, rejoined them. Stuart told her that Odette was going to solve their problems and nudged the girl up for a dance.

On the floor, she pressed herself to him and felt his thrilling man-part stirring against her. He still wanted her. If she found his landowner, gratitude might overcome his caution. She would learn how to make him want her often.

He looked out at the star-filled night and knew there were lovers out there who were free to take their pleasure as it came. He was achieving freedom but he didn't want to do it at Helene's expense. He would be free for this merry girl when the time was right. The mechanical piano clanked to a temporary halt and he guided her back toward his wife.

Days passed while Stuart raged with frustration. He had visions of them years hence, still sitting at Boldoni's waiting for M. Giraudon. In order to soften the blow she felt might be coming, Helene spoke of the impossibility of trying to do business with a madman. It was perhaps a mistake to treat the question of the boundaries so casually. Maître Barbetin seemed genuinely worried about the question. Stuart knew she was trying to make it easier for him but he refused to try to reconcile himself to losing the place. He clung to the faint hope Odette had offered him. At least she was doing something to help. He was keyed up and watching for her the following Saturday night. Helene was dancing when he spotted her. He rushed to her through the crowd. Her face lighted up as it did whenever she saw him but he hardly bothered with greetings.

“Have you found out anything?” he demanded.

She looked briefly puzzled and then her expression cleared. “You mean about your M. Giraudon? A little something. My friend knows somebody who thinks he knows where he might be. My friend is waiting to find out more. I wasn't going to tell you until she did.”

“But that's wonderful,” he burst out. He gripped her arms in an exuberant little hug. “The first clue. You must come tell me the minute you hear more.” He moved with her toward the dancing area.

“I'm with the widow now,” she announced happily. “She says she'll pay me a little if she has any sewing for me. Isn't that wonderful? Perhaps soon I won't need your money. I can't believe I was actually planning to go to work in that house.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with an unsettling blend of gratitude and sexuality, and melted into his arms as they began to dance. “
Tu es trop beau, tu sais. Je te sens toujours dans moi. Ta grosse bitte.
I don't want to forget it.”

“It was supposed to be unforgettable,” he said, keeping it a joke. “You're going to find M. Giraudon. You're my only hope. I don't want to give up and go.”

“You mustn't talk of leaving. We're both strangers here. Who will look after the other if one of us goes?”

He let her press herself to him. A girl who could speak of his
grosse bitte
with such enthusiastic admiration was difficult to resist. It hardened and stood up against her. She would probably love to suck it. He glanced out at the night. A few paces in the dark and it could be done. A few minutes' absence nobody would notice. No risks. Yet there were always risks, no matter how slight. An inconsequential pleasure loaded with potential disaster. He coaxed himself back into virtue while the troublesome part of him subsided.

M. Giraudon returned as unexpectedly as he had disappeared. The Coslings were finishing lunch in the mild late-September sun when he came scuttling out of the kitchen and stopped several yards from their table. He was dressed as he had been on their previous meeting. Stuart leaped up from his chair as he caught sight of him.

“At last,” he cried. “Where in the world have you been?”

The old man edged away cautiously. “I fooled you, eh?” he cackled. “I put one over on you. That's the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, that was very clever of you,” Stuart agreed wildly, pumping the old man's hand. “Very clever. Just when I had the money and everything. I almost decided not to wait for you.”

“Oh, I knew you'd wait. One knows you have a reason for staying.” He said it with such a leer that Stuart thought immediately of Odette and glanced instinctively at Helene. Their eyes met for a split second and then Stuart turned quickly back to M. Giraudon.

“It's after two,” Stuart said hastily. “Maître Barbetin will be in his office. He's got the money. You're here. Why don't we settle this thing right now?” He switched to English for a quick aside to Helene. “I'll get his signature. You can sign later. He may not like women.” Stuart, still holding the old man's hand, began to urge him forward.

“Why put off till tomorrow what one can do today, eh?” M. Giraudon cackled gleefully. “That's the way to do business. You deliver the goods, you pocket the money, and there's an end to it.”

Helene watched them go with a sudden quickening of her heart. What had his look meant? There had been something furtive in his eyes. There was something she had missed. Robbie saw her eyes go empty and staring. It was frightening. She made him feel as if he didn't exist. He put his hand out to hers to make her recognize his presence.