Anything Goes

CHAPTER ONE Does she really belong to me in the literal sense of the word? Can she be considered my property? I have looked upon her all day... She's terrifyingly lovely. I am not speaking of that beauty which one normally attributes to the body and the spirit, but something within which keeps revealing itself from its proper substance. I know Clara physically. She was a dancer. If one must, a strip-teaser dancing in the raw. Every night I went to see her and study her. I wanted her and I wondered whether I was going to have her. One day I met her and offered her roses and that was the opening to her heart. I haven't been deceived. And I know that I shall never be deceived. It is not a question of vanity. I have already passed by a sufficient amount of experiences with the opposite s*x. I have lived. Maybe too much. I'm thirty and Clara is only twenty. When I say that I have lived, I mean that I have submitted myself mentally and physically to a wide number of experiences to which a man with means should undergo. I have taken to love with all the liberties I wished. I have know women one by one or even several at one time. I know that incomplete animal who is rarely perfected. Would it ever be possible to see perfection infused in a woman or am I dreaming of vast heavens? I only know one thing. Clara is blond, English the same as myself. And nothing is uglier or more beautiful than an English woman when she attains perfection. She is not terribly tall, rather average in height. Her shoulders are round and narrow and agreeable. Her bust is supple and her breasts are in their normal place and are justly proportioned. Not too large and not too small. Her torso centers around her hips which are round and flexible. Her legs are rather long, on the thin side and quite charnel, giving the impression of the child and the woman, which I think is a happy mixture. I haven't as yet touched her. I have awaited this moment for some four months now and since I have been with other women. I have been able to delight in other women, but I have chosen not to entangle myself. It as always been of a prime necessity to know what a woman could offer me and what I could give her in exchange. The equality of amounts were never substantial and I found the disproportion alarming. Clara is different. She is my wife and an exceptional human being. I had never thought that I should get married one day. But here I am epoused and I certainly don't regret it. We shall live together and die together. It will be good only in this way. She was rather surprised that I asked her out to a restaurant or to dine with at home. I never touched her and I didn't want to. Not then. I held back although I wanted to have her ever so badly. I was able to control myself and push it to the back of my mind. I said to myself that I had no desire and made myself believe it. Nevertheless, I have to confess, that my lips brushed up against her cheeks. She seemed to melt in me. She was almost ready to give herself to me, but I renounced. She was able to think as she wished. Clara must have thought of a thousand things, but I was indifferent at the time. Now it is another story. From the moment I met her, I had wanted her. I could feel it inside. I had never wanted or desired a woman so much. When she was no longer with me, I could feel her eyes upon mo. What was I to do? A situation crept into my life that I was not prepared for. Even though she had a terrible effect on me, I could not assume that my sentiments were as strong as all that. Other women had already captivated me. By their senses and not by their hearts. They were not able to set my soul on fire and corrode my nerves and tie my very stomach into knots. I was looking for something else. One day I got fed up with mediocrity and looked for something else. I had had enough those kisses, those rumps and humid s*x, cold or warm. There was nothing in these women. There was nothing in that transitory union between a man and a woman who do not for the best. It is simply an act of flesh with certain accents and momentary delights. I could never give the best of myself to these caprices. I probably was always cynical and this was taken as charm, when I was just plain tired. Those stupid women took it as an added quality and created an illusion. I was able to break all ties. However, I managed to do so with tact. I have always respected women, although I might not have always loved them and even those wonderful prostitutes I even respected them. But respect does not mean consideration. Once a woman is nude she is only different from another by her line and her features of beauty. The eye can tell all and one must see a woman in her intimate state so as not to be wronged by the folds and follies of clothing. During the four months that have passed proclaiming the subtle courtship of Clara and myself, I have been able to experiment with and measure my veritable passion. I possessed Clara mentally and in a way physically. I experimented with her when I was alone. I exercised every posture conceivable. This way I was able to measure my true sentiments without sleeping with her. Each time I m*********d, it was with art. There is an art to m**********n when their is an object in view. When there is no goal then it is merely a useless and stupid affair. I had the most splendid of sensations. They were sharp and clear and there was a harmony in my concepts. And these multiple images still live, intact and more virulent than ever and they are growing in proportion. When I think of how constructed my hours, I cannot help but feel proud of myself. She is in the chateau now. The miniature chateau which has belonged to me for a long time, but which had never meant much to me. Now it will be the death of our love. Because I love Clara, even more than myself, and yet that isn't quite exact, because I have no love for myself. She remains for me the absolute love and reflection of it. I have looked for it vain, in opaque mirrors where image was written vaguely and perhaps not at all. I have believe in my own way. To see myself realized finally permitted me to see unlimited horizons. And in this way our love was able to become more significant and the unique object of our destination. It is eternal. This flesh is different from all the others. She is the other half of my flesh and our combination makes a total or one. One undying devotion to the loves of the flesh. I told her to walk around nude and I was able to look her over with my best scrutiny. My senses reached a new proportions and I could not believe my eyes. As she walked I had the impression that I was in her and that she was in me. When she walked away I felt that my stomach was going also and I could not guess what fibers of my body were so attached to her. Could I possibly imagine that my mind had also affected hers? I never as yet have undressed her. I have asked her to do it herself. She smiled while watching me take delight in her stripping. She is a virgin. Perhaps I was too that night when she entranced me for the first time. I am going to cease to be like her. I feel that I am on the threshold of the unknown, even more so then when I was coming into manhood. There is a competent woman that lives in me, a mere boy who has just left his infant clothing. She was right for a moment. She started to get angry because I was asking too much and she said I was cruel. Clara said that I knew how to obtain what I wanted. I had that in my royal blood, she said almost with tears in her eyes. I had promised myself a great deal from the first sight of her and I have kept my promise to the letter. She was burning with anger. How well I can remember the tempestuous wench. Clara insulted me and that beat upon me with all her force. I was strong, stronger than she at any rate. I bent her backward in a demonstration to show her who was the man. She called me "demon" and ran off. It brings a great deal of pleasure to mind when I recall that little scene so vividly enacted. She almost ran into the hallway screaming like a beaten cat. Everytime I think of it, I have to laugh and let the feeling of a personal enjoyment evacuate my being. No matter what Clara is disposed to thinking and one never knows what this might be, I had given her use of the bathroom at all times. She washed herself and came hack with her body covered with a lavender perfume. I saw that her whole being was neat and reposed. Her skin became rose and I could see her breasts and their n*****s underneath her thin blouse, and they stood out arrogantly and proud. She knew very little about herself. And this was one of my sources of satisfaction. She did not know what to make of me. Was I an impossible spoiled inheritor of a vast fortune or was I serious in my many gestures? She thought I was going to take her in my arms and make up. Nothing of the sort. I asked her to walk back and forth once again. I wanted to desire her more, if that were possible. I was soon nude myself in another room. She was in the toilet letting warm water flow in the tub. I want her to be the birth of my golden age. I want to see the birth of a woman. That woman's name shall be Clara. I love that name. I can not say anymore about her. This man is the reflection of her soul and body. He shall always be, no matter where their love shall lead them. "Do you love very much?" she ask suddenly, smiling all the while. "How much should that be?" I say with her look constantly fixed upon me. I am nude equally as she. I have a strong feeling for her and it can easily be seen to be true. There is no sense in hiding it. She does nothing to ignore it and it is just that that makes her smile. She approaches me with her arms hanging to her sides. She shows me all, simply and deliberately. Her stomach is not flat, but round like a small hopeful hill. The triangle of her s*x is heavily cultivated with dense brush. A splendid odor is emitted from that region. It is scarcely perceptible, unless I am imagining all this. Then I lean forward. But no. I haven't the intention of plunging into the female torrent. Clara is not going to have her pleasure yet. There is only the immense possibility parading underneath that fresh skin. I know she loves to make love. She wants me and that day will come. And tonight? Is she thinking of some hidden revelations. Is it possible? Tomorrow she shall no longer be a virgin. In a few hours she will abandon herself and become a part of my desire. For the moment she is nothing. She only a woman who waits and waits... She listens but only hears the wind with its sad heavy breathing. Clara closes the windows only to grow hungrier in her silent room. A storm invades her body. She is feeling the lick of flames across her buttocks. I advance a prudent hand toward her abandon and it shivers at the very thought of the touch. Perhaps it is only apprehension on your part, my darling. Perhaps incertitude more than fear, undoubtedly. She trembles ever so rightly and she makes me think of satin that wrinkles at the slightest touch. "You do want me, don't you?" I can feel that she wants to know and know too much. I have no intention of answering a forgone conclusion and let my hand wander over her bust touching gently her breast. It is firm and compact. I leaves it as quickly as I came to touch the other. Then my hand descends to her hips and I want to feel the contours of her lower body. She pivots slowly. I brush over her thighs and she emits a slight sigh. It is the first time that I have really been introduced to her body. Her flesh is new and my hand is new also and our contact is a birth of hand and flesh.