Part 5 - Fraudulence



I still keep asking myself how we could have been so naïve to accept his invitation -- after all that had happened before. But we were done with cool reasoning. These two weeks without even a glimpse of him had worn us down.

The thin line between reality and illusion had begun to fade gradually. Seeing him, talking to him again would at least give substance to the dreamlike quality of those disquieting encounters.

And while a part of me was still questioning how all this could have come about, it appeared that his mere appearance had changed the whole world around us. What had been real before no longer seemed to matter. The last fourteen days had seen the two of walking through Venice like sleepwalkers, gazing at all that splendid architecture without actually taking notice of it.

What a perfect image that maze of alleyways and narrow passages had become for the labyrinth through which our thoughts seemed to meander endlessly and aimlessly.

And when I recalled his fierce kisses I felt something stir deep inside of me.

An inexplicable and desperate longing.


                                         ***


Water was splashing on both sides of the sleek motor yacht as we were quickly leaving the lights of Venice behind us. With quick experienced moves Armand was steering the vessel to the entrance of the Brenta Canal on the banks of which he owned a villa.

This was the first time, actually, that I had a chance to study him more closely. On our first evening I had caught only a fleeting glimpse of his face before it was rapidly devoured by the darkness and later at the ball he had so enchanted me that I did pay attention to any details.

Now how different he appeared today! No longer the Venetian cavalier of old whose perfect embodiment he had been during the Carnival but a youth of these days in slightly faded worn denim trousers and a casual, nevertheless expensive black wool sweater. Elegant black leather brogues, a high-priced but unobtrusive platinum watch, an intricate silver amulet worn on a leather string around his neck -- all adding up to a cool blend of elegance and understatement.

And again I had to admire those lovely chestnut curls falling down on his shoulders -- what a fine contrast they made to Tyler's short light-blonde strands as the two of them stood side by side engaged in a lively discussion on the works we had earlier seen at the exhibition.

I couldn't stop speculating about Armand. He really was an enigma, ambiguous, full of contradictions. But all the more fascinating exactly because of this.

Despite his apparent youth there was an air of authority about him that certainly derived from a well-off family background, a continuous line of prosperous merchants and ancient aristocrats whose origins probably dated back to the time of the glorious Venetian Republic.

Moreover, he must have enjoyed an excellent education as he could be called quite an expert on the art, literature or music of the High Renaissance, especially when it came to Venice.

"Oh, I am child of this city," he laughed good-humouredly. "Or at least I was. I have lived abroad for a long time, in France for example. That's why my friends call me "Armand".

"Armand -- what a beautiful name," I thought. "It sounds like a promise to me, but a promise on what?"

Again I met his dark arcane gaze: what was hiding behind those eyes which at times could look totally inscrutable and even cruel, then again were also full of sadness and gloom?

"It's a promise on eternity, Linn," those full sensuous lips of his whispered.

Confused I shook my head. "Eternity? What do you mean by that?"

"Sssh," he said soothingly. "You will come to understand ..."

He turned to Tyler again and pointed out to a magnificent villa just ahead: "Here we are ..."

We stepped down on the boat landing. Before us a enchanted park opened. Under high stone pines towering in the darkness and between huge laurel trees an entwined path lead to grand but slightly decaying Palladian villa.

Armand showed us the way, hurrying up the stairs, pushing open the doors for us until we found ourselves in a dark spacious parlour lit only by the fire burning in a huge open fireside.

"I am sorry the servants have their free evening tonight," Armand explained, starting to light the numerous candles everywhere in the room. "Make yourselves comfortable. Over there we have some wine, something to eat ..."

His eyes were reflecting the light of the candles as he stood in front of the fireside, with one arm casually leaning on the antique mantelpiece. He raised his glass and said: "I'd like to bring out a toast! To old loves and ... new friends!"

And as the evening passed by we were actually chatting like friends, talking about everything and nothing, laughing, enjoying the wine and his company.

I would have thought this quite impossible, but the feeling of menace had totally disappeared -- we were just having a pleasant evening. And Armand was truly fascinating, wasn't he? It was not only his stunning appearance, he was extremely well-read, witty, knowing countless anecdotes on Venice, and perfect in his role as an attentive and most charming host.

After those two weeks that had been overshadowed by a strange atmosphere of impassivity mingled both with uneasiness as with anticipation the two of us were in high spirits again. Now, we would get the chance to sort out things, to restore the rational framework of our existence, to make sure that nothing so extraordinary had happened to us. Yes, we had experienced,  let's say, a passionate escapade with a truly intriguing man. But things like that may happen when you're on holiday, isn't it so?

After all, who or what was Armand but an eccentric and sensuous child of the Venetian high society, someone used to people falling for his striking beauty and supreme intellect?

If we could have left it at that, I'm sure we would have been able to remain ... intact.

Actually, it was Tyler's fault. Or maybe not.

Maybe Armand would have released us, although, I still doubt it.

At one point, I noticed that I had been drinking too much that evening. Somehow I had lost the thread of our conversation. My head was floating. My attention had wandered off to examine the magnificent interior of the salon, the fine marble torso in one corner, the grand piano in the other, the thick burgundy velvet curtains behind which large windows were hidden.

All of a sudden, I noticed that Armand's and Tyler's conversation had taken on a more intimate note. They were now talking about Dante's Divine Comedy, about the nine circles of hell, actually.

But it seemed they were hardly listening to what was really said. Their words were like tender caresses, like invisible kisses drifting through the air. The faces were close, so close when Tyler suddenly started to kiss Armand hungrily.

And Armand returned the kiss with equal fervour.

And strangely enough, I was not shocked at all. I was not even jealous. On the contrary, I felt their kisses were exciting me. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

While Tyler let his hands run feverishly over Armand's slender body, Armand remained totally passive in his embrace. Tyler stopped abruptly as though he had suddenly realized what he was actually doing.

"What?" he gasped breathlessly. "What is it?"

"Remember? What I promised you?" Armand smiled maliciously. "That I would not touch you. But look at Linn. She's starving ... I'm sure by now she's all wet inside ..."

"Armand!" I shouted, blushing all over. "Enough!"

"She's the one you should be kissing, not me," he insisted, completely ignoring my protests. He put his arm around Tyler and murmured confidentially in his ear. "It's a shame. Such a lovely young woman and you have not touched her for almost two weeks."

Tyler looked at him as if he didn't quite understand.

"I know, caro mio, I know, "Armand replied, gently brushing one of Tyler's blond strands from his forehead. "You've been dreaming of me. And you will have me. But now I'd like to see how you make love to her, here, right before my eyes!"

I rose from the my chair glancing at him furiously: "What kind of game do you think you are playing with us? We're not here to serve as supers in your perverse games!"

Armand rose quickly and gripped me by the shoulders fiercely: "Who do think you are to tell me what to do or not to do? But you are right: it's all a game -- a game according to my rules!" he replied under his breath. And before I could even respond to that, he whirled me around, quickly fixing a sort of black silk scarf around my head and over my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I protested furiously, wanting to pull down the blindfold, but he grasped my arms firmly from behind.

"Let me go!" I almost screamed it, but he only laughed, showing no intention to release me. I shivered when I felt one of his cool hands touch the side of my throat. Unhurriedly, he put aside my long curls and started to kiss my neck. I took in a deep breath.

"Don't you think you should at least show some sort of  resistance, Linn?" he taunted me between kisses. "That would make it so much more ... pleasurable for me":

"How could I possibly move in that iron grip?" I retorted between clenched teeth.

"Ah, yes. Now that you mention it," he replied airily. And before I could realize what was happening he had thrown me down on a thick Persian carpet and was tying my hands above my head with another silk ribbon.

"Now, what are you waiting for, Tyler?" he demanded provokingly . "Take her!"

"And tear that lovely black dress apart. Believe me, she loves it that way, "he added seductively.

"You're such a bastard!" I exclaimed wriggling frantically to free myself from his grip. "Tyler, help me! This is insane!"

"Yes, it is," Tyler's voice was trembling. "I know. But I want it, too..."

At that moment I realized that he wanted Armand to watch, that it aroused him to make love under Armand's inscrutable gaze.

"The nine circles of hell ...," Armand whispered dreamily as he bent over me from behind. "You know the first circle was inhabited by those who had sinned for love, forbidden love. But they were not punished really .... severely ..."

Again I tried to free myself. In vain, however. "No! Not this way!" I called out, but they would not listen. There was nothing I could do when I felt that my dress was pushed up, my panties ripped off and I was being claimed with such a fierceness that it hurt. I gasped. I wanted to scream, but couldn't.

At the same time, I felt cool silky lips ravaging my mouth and all of a sudden I tasted a delicious hot fluid. Only a few droplets, but they were like liquid fire transporting my body from pain to absolute ecstasy.

And nothing mattered any longer.

Nothing.

There was only this.

This heavenly substance that made me beg for more and more.

"Don't stop ... don't ...."

A gentle voice said: "This is the taste of eternity."

And at that moment I felt Tyler coming inside of me just as I could not keep it any longer. A ravenous fire was consuming me with such a force that I did not care whether these were the flames of hell or the bliss of paradise.
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