Jerome seeing her looking at the couch inferred: she thinks I'll possess her there.
Tiptoeing behind her, he suddenly caught her in his arms. She didn't resist. He kissed the nape of her neck and began to caress her through the light material of her dress, whispering tender, mad, words.
Pushing up her dress he held her close to him to feel all the better the warmth of her smooth skin.
With very slow, very touching gestures, and very elaborate pauses too, he began to undress her, calling long on each kisses nest.
Standing as some idol, Myriam felt a new warmth pervading her limbs, her whole flesh.
This was so different from Nicolas' exasperated cravings, brutal maulings! Jerome was tender and passionate at once. His gesture were almost respectful Kneeling before her now, he seemed to pray and plead his passion, his desire. He slipped off slowly, devotedly, the last piece of nylon and lace that protected her, kissing and caressing her as he did so. When this was gone and she stood naked above him, he kissed the shadowy down that lost itself between her thighs.
Then he rose and embraced her in his strong arms.
«Come little girl and be mine.»
His lips thought hers. She felt his warm insistent tongue sliding into her mouth. Then he lifted her up and carried her on the bed.
She had closed her eyes. When she opened them, Jerome was coming naked against her side, she looked lovingly on his wonderful suntanned body. He took her in his arms while his shapely muscular legs gently wedged between hers. One hand caressingly opened up her thighs. She felt the quivering weight of his sex on belly, Lovingly she gave herself up to his desire direction his prick, placing it between her expectant lips. He shoved in slowly, then almost instantaneously he slipped it out:
«Why! I thought you were a virgin…?»
She balked.
«I never told you so! If you don't want me go away!»
Whipped by the apostrophy Jerome replied quickly:
«Heavens no I was joking!»
And without more ado he lunged in brutally.
If he regretted Myriam's maidenhead the regret didn't last long. Myriam belonged to him with such ardent perverseness that he was soon worn out.
She was a wonderful lover, ready to gratify any desire, any whim. Yet he understood she hadn't been broken in completely when he asked her something she had apparently never done yet. He insisted at once to humiliate her, to have the pleasure to see those pink lips coming down on his prick, she soon proved her gifts that way as well…
In the end he wanted to give it her as Kozincko had done the first time. She flatly refused. Jerome didn't insist keeping this road for another day. When they parted it seemed they had been lovers for ages.
«Shall I see you to morrow darling?
«Yes, and every day if you want, answered Myriam.»
But she knew her love for Jerome was no longer the same.
CHAPTER XII
From that day onwards Myriam's behaviour as far as love was concerned changed completely. She found a morbid pleasure in discovering love's forbidden paths. She wanted to know everything, to try everything. She perverted herself with as much energy as she had used to stay pure. She found more pleasure in the process than in flesh itself. She saw Jerome every day, she yielded now to every one of his desires with a renewed frenzy, nothing was forbidden him, if needs be she even invented new desires to satisfy them all the better. Her mind was at work too. She wanted to become love's priestess, to know all the arts of passion, all its shams. These, together with her youth and beauty were terrible weapons; she hadn't forgotten her revenge…
Kozincko was crazy on her. She had understood what he needed: the illusion of perpetual change. Thus everyday revealed a new Myriam to his senses, innocent modest or astoundingly depraved. She refused her body to surrender it all the more passionately afterwards with a fiendish lewdness.
She went to his office sometimes, pushing her breasts to his lips, crushing her youthful body against his she drew him into frantic pieces of extempore fucking.
At night when he would come to see Ghislaine, he was at pains to hide his gnawing desire. He had to wait till he got back to his car, and there in the shadow he would tumble Myriam legs up and shove in frantically.
Sometimes he'd take her to the Chateau Vert as the lady of the place. She had soon become the queen of the Bacchanals there. Whipping the blood of all the male guests but never granting them the slightest… favour.
Nicolas was much too jealous to give her to any of his friends. But she would insist on his fucking other women under her eyes or with her help… an arrangement which could but delight Kozincko. As a return for this he would grant her anything she wished, and her wishes were numerous and costly. Yet he asked her one thing peremptorily and that was to keep secret the existence of his daughter. None of his friends knew about her. Moreover she was to keep these parties at the Chateau Vert a secret for Ghislaine. And this Myriam did faithfully…
Freddy had become a friend of hers, he desired her violently, he had even tried his chance… but Myriam had said no so sweetly it sounded almost as a promise.
And Freddy gloated over her hoping she would soon keep the promise. The Argentine too would have loved to tackle her, instead of that she had made an ally of him.
All these tactics were part of Myriam's plans. She was slowly weaving her mesh, and little by little her nest was cast…
— Meanwhile Ghislaine hadn't changed. Both girls still agreed wonderfully. Ghislaine of course had guessed one thing or two, but she never asked any questions. Her father was taboo to her. She wasn't ignorant of Myriam's meetings with Jerome, and she'd help them for she was only too glad to find at night a loving Myriam who would give her a taste of her day's experiences. Strange to say, these sapphic loves left her innocent and naive she was childishly inquisitive merely. She felt some pleasure but above all she sought a tenderness which no father, no mother had yet given her. She was content with love's parody that satisfied her craving for tenderness without spoiling her body.
She couldn't conceive love might be violent. Just as Myriam before her defeat. The latter carefully abstained from giving her any too precise notion on what love actually was. She only managed to increase in Ghislaine that taste for innocent tenderness in which she gave herself as thoroughly as if she had had a lover.
— One night after a brilliant ball where Kozincko had chaperoned both girls, Myriam asked him blankly as they were on the way back:
«Why shouldn't you give a ball at the Chateau Vert for Ghislaine seventeenth birthday?»
Ghislaine went into raptures at once.
«Oh Yes Dad! that would be wonderful!»
Nicolas was unable to refuse these young minxes anything they wanted.
«You would like it both of you, wouldn't you?
«Especially if it could be a fancy dress-ball, added Myriam.»
Ghislaine cried:
«Oh yes, a real fancy dress ball. I'll be a fairy and you'll be a wizard!
«And I'll be Cinderella said Myriam.
«Why not said Kozincko it's a grand idea. I might have thought of it.
«Then Daddy shall we have a fancy-dress-ball?
«Yes you shall my dear. I never could refuse my little fairies anything!»
On that night Kozincko stayed longer than he used at his daughter's. He was yearning to take Myriam back with him. She was wearing a white dress very much like the one she had on the first time he possessed her and that memory set his temples hammering. His eyes clung heavily to Myriam's breasts, caressed the body under the dress, and he felt hornier than ever.
Myriam understood perfectly well what was going on in his mind and she was delighted to see that memory growing into a torture to him as it had been one to her.