The Captive Flesh (3 page)

‘I cannot help myself,' she whispered. ‘It is the thought of your lovely body, lying there so open and exposed. And you are so fresh and beautiful. It arouses me madly. Go on, I beg you. Continue. This is a gift to wash me clean from the memories. Do you mind, my darling, if I use you just a little? My pleasure will not be long in coming to its zenith.'

Marietta did not mind. Indeed she too was aroused by Claudine's sinuous movements. The hard little peaks of the erect nipples pressed against her own as Claudine moved her breasts back and forth. The liquid warmth of the heavy breasts lashed her own nipples into a state of matching rigidity. She tried to concentrate, to finish her account of Sister Anna's mistreatment.

‘You can imagine my shame as I did as she asked. The room was cold. I felt cool air on my most tender flesh as I parted my legs and draped one either side of the narrow bench. My buttocks were flattened against the hard wood and my sex was pushed forward and slightly upturned. No one had ever seen me in such an intimate position. I thought the heat of my face would erupt through the skin. Surely this was enough. She
could see that I was clean. Now she would let me up. I felt a sensation like relief; this would be over soon. But she was not satisfied yet. I closed my eyes as Sister Anna bent close. I could not bear to see her eyes, hot now, glistening with what was surely enjoyment. She put her palms on the inner surfaces of my outspread thighs and pressed, spreading my legs wider apart.

‘Then I felt her fingers take hold of the lips of my sex. She held them open, parting them and pressing, so that the inner surface stood proud. Tears gathered behind my closed eyelids. I hated what she was doing, but I could not deny that a warm sensation was spreading out from my lower belly.

‘ “Ah, yes, it needs washing,” Sister Anna rapped, in a voice I hardly recognised. “I will attend to it.”

‘Then I almost recoiled as I felt the most exquisite sensation. I dared not open my eyes but something warm and wet was worming its way inside my body's opening! It was a moment before I realised that it was Sister Anna's tongue. At that my eyes flew open, but she was beyond taking me to task. Her head moved back and forth as she “cleaned” me in long leisurely licks. She tongued the rolled-back surfaces of the lips she held open, then turned her attention to the soft inner flesh. Soon it was swollen and aching. I could not help myself. I moaned and raised my hips, rubbing against her thin dry mouth. She laughed and called me wanton, but she did not seem displeased. I felt a gathering, a pooling of sensation, as she continued to lick and suck my sex. Now and then she bit me, but not enough to really hurt; it only added to my pleasure. Then, as she plunged her tongue deep inside me again, I felt her fingers between my buttocks, searching for that other, tighter orifice.

‘She thrust two dry bony fingers into me, hurting me. I spasmed on the instant, my legs raising up, falling back against my chest, my back arching, my belly thrusting against her mouth. Sister Anna was breathing fast. She rested her hands on my thighs for a moment longer. They were trembling violently. She stood up.

‘ “There. You are clean now,” she said, dismissively. “Pull your skirts down and get out.”

‘I went as fast as my shaking legs would carry me. I was so ashamed that I enjoyed the feeling of her mouth on my flesh. But the next time I was – dare I admit it – eager for her attentions. That … was the first of many similar incidents.'

‘Oh, Marietta,' Claudine moaned, grasping her around the waist and clenching her buttocks. She rubbed her hot little sex harder and harder against Marietta's thigh. ‘I am almost there. Kiss me. Kiss me on the mouth, I beg you.'

Marietta pressed her mouth to Claudine's in a long and melting kiss. Their tongues met for the first time, tentatively. The sensation was wonderful. Subtle. Delicate. Marietta's blood caught fire as Claudine bucked and spasmed. Her friend's moan of ultimate pleasure vibrated down her throat.

Gradually Claudine quieted. Her fingers fluttered on Marietta's back as she subsided against her body. Marietta cradled her close. She felt exhausted, spent. All the fear and loathing, and the other confusing mixed emotions she felt for Sister Anna, seemed to have left her. She was glad that Claudine had found pleasure in the recounting of her secret.

Claudine's fresh young beauty, the straightforward way she took pleasure in her sexuality, seemed to have
washed her clean. Marietta felt renewed. Now she would sleep.

And tomorrow … there was Kasim.

In the night Marietta woke.

Though she tried to dismiss it, the image of Kasim haunted her dreams. It seemed that she had always known him, or someone very like him. He could easily have been the darkly handsome man she had conjured often in her imagination; the one who had rescued her from the boredom and repression, the long nights in the chilly dormitory.

She imagined him leaning over her in the darkness, his angular face vivid and intense in the moonlight. Shadows hollowed his cheekbones and eye sockets. Though bleached of colour his lips looked swollen, as if bruised by kisses. One pale hand reached out to pull the covers from her. The silk sheets slid down, exposing her shoulders, the tops of her breasts. His fingers were cool against her bare skin …

She drew back from the image, lest she draw him to her by the power of her thoughts. It was easy to imagine that there was a silver thread joining their two minds, reaching through the salt impregnated wood of the cabins. Was he as aware of her, as she was of him? Surely not. He seemed far too controlled to give way to such emotion. But she could not help it: he was like a lamp in her thoughts.

She was afraid, but it was an enticing kind of fear. A fear that drew her on so that she felt breathless with longing. Her body, aroused by Claudine's actions, simmered and pulsed. Beside her, Claudine's breathing was deep and even. She looked at her friend's face, so smooth and peaceful, and her panic receded.

She must calm herself. Was she not born of a good
French family? She had breeding, poise, even if she was a little wilful; a little spoilt. She had always prided herself on her composure. Even the spectre of Sister Anna had not haunted her nights at the convent. The dread – the shameful anticipation – of the nun's actions was confined to the day time. Why should this man have such an effect on her that he disturbed her sleep?

She put her arms around Claudine and fitted herself against her warm curved back. Claudine's firm peachy buttocks rested against her bent thighs. Gradually she relaxed.

Her reaction to Kasim – to his aura of deep sensuality – made her realise how innocent of men she actually was. It made her realise also that she was ready to lose that innocence.

With that disquieting thought, she slipped at last into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Throughout the rest of the journey Kasim allowed the two young women the use of his cabin and all its facilities. They took many of their meals with him and spent long hours in conversation together.

He was charming and attentive, interested in all they had to say, yet they learned almost nothing about him. Whenever the conversation turned to himself, he steered it away again with such consummate skill that, at first, Marietta did not notice. Then she began to watch for the many small evasions: the sardonic little smile that accompanied his silences and the shuttered look to his face that told her he was lying by omission. He had told her that he was honest to a fault, had seemed proud of the fact. Was this how he safeguarded his privacy, by avoiding questions he could not answer honestly?

But even this she found attractive. The secrecy about
his background made him even more intriguing. All she learned of him was that he travelled widely, was wealthy, and that he had a large house in Algiers.

Kasim's servants cooked, cleaned and waited on them all. One man, handsome and dark-skinned, named Mehmet, seemed to be Kasim's confidant. They were often together. Marietta supposed that they were discussing business or Kasim's instructions to the other servants.

One morning, Marietta was alone in the cabin while Claudine was walking on deck. Marietta was attempting to dress her hair in a way that was the height of fashion in Paris. She puffed it out into a froth of curls and began to arrange it in a full halo around her shoulders.

Kasim entered the cabin silently but she saw the movement in the looking-glass and gave a start.

He laughed softly. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you. I thought my cabin was empty. But I am glad you are alone, beautiful one.'

Before she could speak, he reached out and meshed his fingers in her hair. He admired the fluffy confection of it, then penetrated through the thick mass of curls to her scalp. For an instant she felt his long fingers stroking her skull, cupping the back of it where the roundness descended to the slender column of her neck. Then he drew away a little and lifted a few curls onto his spread fingers.

‘Your hair is so pale, like strands of spun sugar,' he said, tangling a curl around one long white finger. ‘Never have I seen hair like it.'

She held her breath while he trailed his other hand slowly up her pleated dress sleeve and across the stiffly-boned bodice. He brought his fingertips to rest lightly at the neckline, then moved aside the printed
cambric scarf that draped her bosom. His fingers met the flesh on the exposed part of her rounded breast showing above the low neckline, and outlined a tiny circle on the outswell of flesh.

‘Such skin. Like thick cream, with the slightest touch of honey.'

His touch was no more than a whisper, but Marietta could not suppress a violent shudder. His fingertips were warm and they sent an immediate thrill scudding through her veins. Kasim laughed again, throatily – a sound that held much promise. Their eyes met in the mirror. Marietta's dropped first. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink; her lips trembled.

‘You are a flower in bud, Marietta. Do you know how enticing you are? An innocent. What a challenge you present to a man! Ah, how difficult it is to hold back. I want to show you what an instrument of pleasure the body can be. But … I shall wait.
You
shall tell me when the time is right.'

She stared at him, caught in the blackness of his gaze. In the looking-glass her eyes were wide blue pools. She did not know how to reply – or if she were able to. Her throat had closed with alarm. His words were shocking. She ought to be crying out for help, berating him for his forwardness, but she could only bite her lip. Her fingers clutched at the folds of her dress, burying into the creases, twisting and snagging the grey-violet sprigged cotton.

Kasim smiled long and lazily, his glance sweeping over her face, measuring her reactions, then he touched her curls to his lips, moved away and leant against the wall panelling.

Marietta felt relieved, but also, perversely, disappointed. For a moment she could not move. Her skin felt hot then cold and she tried to control her rapid
breathing, wishing that she had not laced her gown so tightly.

There was a brief silence while Marietta regained her composure. She took up the brush and began to repair the damage to her coiffure, but her hand shook so much that Kasim must surely notice. She put down the brush and began pinning silk flowers and ribbons amongst the pale curls.

In a thoughtful, dreamy tone Kasim said, ‘You look charming in your own clothes. Mehmet has made them as good as new. Yet I prefer you in the silks and gauzes from the trunk. Such beauty should be decorated with jewels: pearls, emeralds, sapphires and gold chains. Ah, yes, lots of delicate gold chains. You are most decorative, Mademoiselle de Nerval. What a delight to my eyes you will be while you are my guest.'

The predatory sensuality had quite disappeared. She could almost believe she had dreamt his earlier words. Almost …

‘Th … thank you,' she stammered, not sure how else to reply to the effusive compliments. She was confused by his quicksilver change of mood.

He seemed about to say more, but just then a cry went up.

‘Land! We have sighted land!'

Kasim threw her a final glance before hurrying up the ladder to the deck. ‘Come, Marietta, I want to share this moment with you. You shall have your first glance of the Barbary coast, my homeland.'

She grabbed for her bonnet then, tying the wide ribbons under her chin, followed Kasim up on deck. Her knees felt weak. She could feel the spot where his fingertips had touched her breasts and she closed her hands into fists. A strange sensation spread through her stomach, warm and pulsing. Anticipation? Yes. But
whether it was for the sight of the gleaming coastline, or for whatever she would find at Kasim's house, she could not tell.

Claudine was leaning over the rail already. In the near distance there was a hillside piled with the dazzling white cubes of buildings. Cypress trees were everywhere, looking like dark-green candle-flames. There were spires and towers of pink stone and the sun on the waves that broke on the shore turned them to sparkling turquoise.

‘It is so beautiful,' Marietta whispered.

‘Wait until you see my house,' Kasim said, standing at her elbow. ‘It is far more lovely. But you and Claudine will outshine all of my treasures. You will love it there. Both of you.'

Claudine threw Marietta a look of excitement. There was no time for words; the other passengers were crowding the deck, collecting together relatives and possessions. Kasim turned suddenly and stood with his back to the sea. Something passed over his face; it looked like hunger – then was quickly gone.

‘Will you and Claudine indulge me? Algiers can be a dangerous place for unveiled women. Only whores display their naked faces, indeed, any part of their bodies. Though you will be safe enough with me and my retinue, you will attract an undesirable amount of attention dressed as you are. Will you consent to wear the traditional garments of concealment?'

Claudine laughed merrily. ‘Really,
monsieur
, is that necessary? Ah, you seek to flatter us by telling us how special we are, no? Perhaps you wish to cage us and keep us for your pleasure alone. Oh La! We are free young women, not birds of paradise!'