"So? What the hell is this all about?" he shot at her. "Was it that bad, eh? One minute you fuck like a hot little bitch in heat… the next, you're bawling as if you'd just lost your cherry. Look, Goddamnit, cut it out. Sniveling women make me sick…"
He lay his hand on her thigh and smoothed it up over the line of her hip to the hollow of one soft, white buttock. She flinched at his touch and shook her behind as if to shake it off. "Leave me alone! Damn you! Don't touch me anymore… ever! Ever, do you hear? Ever!"
She rolled onto her back to glare up at him through her tears and Larreau read the hatred in her enraged dark eyes. Momentarily, a little tingle of excitement rippled through him at the sight and his limp member gave a start. Christ, if he had the time, he thought… but there would be other occasions… yes, many, many more. He could wait.
"All right, ma chere, if that's the way you feel…" he said, shrugging his shoulders and getting to his feet from the bed, "you better get out of here. Get your clothes on and get out."
Madeleine stared at him. Already, she was sorry for what she had said; inasmuch as she had submitted to him because of his promise to help her get Igat from the Girardes. Dear God, she had sacrificed everything… her marriage vows, all claims to decency… and now to have it end all in vain…
He went to his clothes and began to dress, no longer noticing her, as if she was not in the room.
"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Gaston," she forced herself to apologize. "But… but… I've never done anything like that before, and when I realized…"
He jerked his head around to look at her, his ugly face twisting in a nasty grin. "What the hell are you saying… never done anything like that before? How about the kid, eh? What was that? An immaculate conception, Cheri?"
"B-But that was different! You don't understand…"
"They're all different," he snapped coldly. "Ask any woman. She never gives herself; she's always raped, eh? Like you just were. Raped. Always raped. Now tell me you didn't like it, Cheri… Go on, tell me that you hated my cock buried deep in that tight little pussy of yours… Well? Tell me… if you can."
Madeleine lay unmoving, her eyes fixed on his round, ugly face, his words registering slowly in her brain. Dear God, she couldn't honestly deny it! She'd loved it. He had aroused inside her what Antoine, her own husband, had never even come close to… a passion that had been near heavenly bliss itself… unwanted or not, he had done that… and then it abruptly occurred to her that the blame was not his, but her own, and the hatred she felt was not for him, but for her own self. She was the temptress, the one to be despised, the seductive animal who had come here of her own free will, just as she had gone with M. Keel for her own gain. But, Mother of God, she had done it for Igat… for Igat…
"Come on," he interrupted her self-condemning thoughts. "You better leave now. I've got business…"
"U-Uncle Gaston… I'm sorry," she said, slowly swinging her feet to the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Please… please don't be angry with me. I-I did like it… honest."
"Humph…" Larreau grunted, pretending indifference, while inside he was elated with the way it was developing. He had her; she was his to play with as long as he liked, even though she hated him and he knew it, but it was the kid… she'd do anything to get back her kid. And he knew how to handle that, too; for if he did get her the child, it would be all over for him… she'd have nothing more to do with him. So…? He'd pretend… but do nothing.
"Are you angry with me, Uncle?"
"I'll get over it, Cheri."
"And… and you'll do what you promised… about Igat, I mean?" she asked as she started to dress.
"That will depend," he answered, matter-of-factly.
"Depend? On what, Uncle…?"
He was knotting his tie. He turned to smile at her. "On how you perform tomorrow."
Madeleine could hardly believe her ears. Her mouth fell open as she stared at him. She stood with only her panties covering her lovely body, her full and erect breasts thrusting forward proudly. She repeated in abject disbelief; "T-Tomorrow?"
"Of course, ma chere. Tomorrow… the next day, and the day after… whenever I so crave your tight little ass, eh?" He chuckled, slipped on his coat and walked slowly toward the door. "Now, hurry and dress. You must leave before my business appointment arrives, eh? We wouldn't want anyone to see you here and tell our dear Antoine, now, would we?" He opened the door and stood momentarily looking back at her. "You're lovely, ma chere," he said, licking at his lips. "Yours are the most beautiful tits I've ever seen… ah, oui. And tomorrow… tomorrow I'll teach you some new delights, eh?"
He closed the door silently while she stood gaping after him, his words and meaning filling her brain with sickening despair. Dear God, she was completely and hopelessly trapped in a snare of her own making, a web of horrible circumstances that she had helped weave around herself, and now she was with less chance of escape than ever.
Oh God, help me! Somebody, help me!
She sat back down on the edge of the bed and wept quietly into her hands.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alone, Gaston Larreau relaxed in his favorite chair with a tall scotch-soda. He smiled to himself, exhilarated with his accomplished seduction. It had gone so much better than he had ever anticipated; Mon Dieu, but she was a delightful creature; his legs were still weak and trembling from the extent of his climax, yet the mere thought of her voluptuous, naked body caused his prick to again stir in his trousers. He'd never get enough of her; she was the one he'd been waiting for, and he didn't intend that she'd ever get away from him. He'd hated to send her away in the mood she was in… almost in an obvious state of despondency, but it was necessary if he were to keep her properly subjugated…
The ringing of the telephone beside him interrupted his thoughts.
"Oui?" he said.
"M'sieu' Larreau, this is Robert Jovell."
"So?" the powerful little czar addressed his attorney.
"Problems, M'sieu'… and of a serious nature, I fear," Jovell said, speaking in their native tongue.
"Well go on."
"It's Galaxy Mining… the Ontario government is hot on the trail. I've been tipped that they are conducting an extensive investigation. There's no question, M'sieu', but what they'll uncover the whole thing…"
"Hummmm. I see. The whole thing, eh? To what extent, Jovell?"
"The ultimate… they'll label it a stock swindle."
Larreau sensed a sudden vacuum at the base of his vast stomach. "So? What the hell can you do about it?" he snapped suddenly. "You're my attorney. What am I paying you for, eh…?"
"I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple, M'sieu'," Jovell replied. "This is the government… not the stupid local hacks. But, of course, you yourself are clean. They can't touch you… but your nephew, Antoine…"
"Yes? What about Antoine?"
"Well… that's another story, M'sieu'. You remember that we set him up with indisputable control of the company for this very reason, hoping, of course, that it would never be necessary to use him as a dupe… but I fear… well… someone is going to answer… Do I make myself clear?"
Larreau rubbed the palm of his pudgy hand over his slightly perspiring forehead. "I see," he said after a moment. "It's that bad, eh?"
"Yes… it's that bad, and maybe worse," replied Jovell. "He'll definitely take a ride for this… We'll have to prepare him."
"Christ… he's my nephew, Jovell," said Larreau, more for appearances than anything, his brain already reaping the advantages with Madeleine if Antoine were completely out of his way.
"I understand, M'sieu' Larreau… but maybe I can ease that pain for you a bit," the attorney said, his tone of voice dropping to a quieter level.