More Stories to Make You Blush by Marie Gray Page B

splashed each other, and played like children. Around three in the afternoon, exhausted, they decided to nap—but not the kind of nap Brigitte was hoping for! They each went to their room, agreeing to meet again around 5 p.m. for a drink and dinner. Vincent was definitely more difficult to corrupt than the men Brigitte was used to meeting. How refreshing!
    * * *
    The alcohol went to her head. Brigitte was becoming obsessed. As Vincent talked over drinks she examined his jaw and his teeth, and every time he moved she admired his muscles working beneath the tanned skin. He seemed to be doing the same with her. They were in a world of their own. They had hamburgers and fries for supper, washed down with several margaritas. When the time came for Brigitte to leave she was very tipsy, and so was Vincent. But at least that way she had little trouble convincing him to let her take a taxi again. The trip in the shaky old vehicle did not do much to sober her up. But the effect was not unpleasant, and she ordered another drink when she got to the bar before going off to get changed.
    When she got up on stage she was very lightheaded, but not just from the alcohol. She felt so well that her body seemed to dance by itself, without her having to give it orders. All she wanted was Vincent. Yes, she would soon have to talk to him about her work, though she was surer than ever that he would not let the woman of his life practice this sort of occupation. He had the look of someone who was used to controlling situations, not having them forced on him. Something in his look gave her the feeling that this time she might have to choose. But she banished the thought, content just to enjoy the present moment. That evening several men asked her to dance at their tables and paid generously for the favor. She even danced for a couple of lovers who seemed to revel in the spectacle. She liked these private dances, for they allowed her to get dangerously close to the limit she had set for herself. She could look people in the eye, guess their secrets and their fantasies; but it was a oneway street. She kept up her face of marble and her motionless smile—the image of an inaccessible goddess. Whether she danced for a man alone or at a group table, she thought of Vincent. How she would have loved to show him this side of herself ! But it was impossible. She was madly in love with him and that would not change—unless he did something to gravely disappoint her in the next few days. He would never understand that she could do this work and also have a simple, healthy life, totally free of the “vices of the trade.” It was so hard to explain to someone on the “outside!” But this man seemed to represent so many promises. The more she got to know him, the more he resembled the Prince Charming she had been looking for all her life. Was it possible she had finally found someone for whom she would even give up her work, give up this pleasure that had become so important to her? Maybe. She would just have to see how things went.
    * * *
    When she got back that night Vincent was waiting for her. The hotel bar was closed and he was sitting in one of the armchairs in the lobby. He looked as if he were dozing, but when he saw her come in through the big front door he leapt to his feet and in a single bound was before her, taking her in his arms.
    â€œI … I just had to see you.”
    Leaving her no time to answer, he crushed his mouth against hers almost painfully. Taking her by the hand he led her to the elevator. Staring straight ahead as they waited, he seemed to be concentrating very hard on something. When the elevator doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, he grabbed hold of her again and pushed her inside. She fell back against the wall. Vincent pressed himself against her, took her face and hair in his hands, and kissed her passionately. She felt his insistent body pushing itself against hers, leaving no doubt as to how much