The French Affair Boxed Set

by Natasha Sparks

  Right now, she had other fish to fry.

  She'd thought about it. She'd wondered. There was more to think about, much more--but, like Napoleon Bonaparte, she had a Destiny. It would seem that Time itself had given her a destiny that she was meant to fulfill. When that Destiny was fulfilled, there would doubtless be some other Sign, some Reason given--and she could trek on from there.

  But for now, here was a steppingstone in front of her.

  Talleyrand!

  "Are you as--what word shall I use--as honest with Bonaparte about your thoughts on his Destiny?"

  "Pah! Of course! As I told the others I have no secrets."

  Of course, he did. Janice well knew that. There were those who claimed that later, Talleyrand actually betrayed Napoleon. Janice was of the opinion that he did not, would not--but she in fact well knew that the man had... secrets.

  "Would you like to have one!" said Janice, leaning over and rubbing his arm flirtatiously.

  Talleyrand cocked his head. "Janice. I linger on the presumption of closer... ah... private intercourse with you. But why should it be secret." He grabbed her hand and leaned closer, gently massaging it as he gazed into her eyes. "And will this cost me money, as I presume it will cost the others money?"

  "M'seur!" she said. "There need be no money involved."

  "I am not young. I am not handsome. I am a womanizer, true, but generally it is I who must seduce..." He continued the penetrating gaze. "What would you gain by seducing me, if not money!"

  "Ah, but you are charming, and you are on the road--surely--to fame and success. All this is very attractive to a young woman."

  "You seem very interested in Napoleon Bonaparte."

  She had been growing alarmed by his questions, and now she was most alarmed. Talleyrand, of course, was no love-struck idiot. She knew that. But she had hoped that the foreplay of flirtation would at least cloud his mind a bit! "I am interested in Napoleon Bonaparte," she stated. "He is the greatest man in the world." She looked at his face, glacial now but with hot and intelligent eyes. "You think I have political ambitions."

  "A woman? No, but money and power and status... well, yes, I suppose all that is political, no?"

  "Talleyrand? May I take you into my confidence?"

  "Certainly, Janice. I am a diplomat. That is my specialty."

  "I love men. I am healthy and happy and enjoy making love with men." She raised an eyebrow. "I enjoy variety. I have made use of my charms, Talleyrand. But my goals are a bit baser and more common that you might think."

  "Oh? How so?"

  "I take a great deal of delight in fucking, Talleyrand. But it would seem I am cursed. I cannot come."

  "You mean, you cannot reach orgasm?" he said.

  "No man--or woman--not even myself... has successfully taken me there, Talleyrand. And yet, in my heart of hearts I know that a great man like Napoleon Bonaparte--he can!"

  "No man as of yet?" he looked thoughtful.

  She shrugged. "No. I have tried all manner of oddities as well--as Murat will attest. But nothing seems to work."

  Talleyrand looked at her thoughtfully. "Your words have the ring of truth to them, Janice. Very well. I see no harm in you." He took her hand up and kissed it. "But I wonder, though... the orgasm matter?"

  "Yes, Talleyrand?"

  "I wonder if you would permit me to attempt that honor!"

  She smiled slyly.

  She had him.

  ~~~

  Talleyrand failed.

  Nor was it for want of trying, however.

  She took him back to her bedroom and they undressed. Off the floor and away from the need for a leg, he proved to be an energetic and elegant lover. She was surprised at his softness and kindness when it was appropriate and his strength, dominance and power when that was called for. He seemed to have a sixth sense for all that. He held her down when necessary, he pulled her hair back just when she wanted it and each thrust of his not small penis into her pussy was delivered with verve, passion and excellence. He almost seemed to be playing her like some musical instrument and she enjoyed herself tremendously, even though there really wasn't that element of BDSM that beat down the doors of her soul.

  He tried a number of positions, Talleyrand did--and then she had an idea.

  "You have great endurance, my love," she said, breathlessly. She turned over and offered her upraised rear. "I want you to fuck me in the ass now!"

  "What?" he said, surprised.

  "I wish you to stick your penis into my asshole!" she said. She was panting a bit. She was getting excited at the thought. All the work that Talleyrand was doing had seemed to be a bit of inspired foreplay. Was she wrong? Could all this be exactly what she needed to come? "Pardon me, Janice. I am not sure I heard you correctly. You wish me to fuck you up your arse?"

  "That's a good way to say it!"

  "Oh my God!" However, despite the alarm, she could hear interest in his tone.

  "What's God got to do with it? Don't worry, I gave myself a good cleaning and put some olive oil on the sideboard there. Just use that."

  "Oh my God!" said Talleyrand.

  Why was he having a fit? The great Talleyrand--apoplectic.

  "Again, I ask, what's God got to do with it?" she asked, getting a bit impatient and annoyed.

  "I used to be a priest of the church."

  "The Catholic Church?"

  "This is France. What other church?"

  "A priest."

  "You are asking me to... to commit sodomy."

  "I'm not a male... Well hmm. I guess I am, technically. You mean you've never tried fucking an ‘arsehole’, as you call it?"

  "No."

  "But I bet you want to, don't you?"

  "I admit, I am curious."

  "Tight, nasty and forbidden. I don't come, but I do groan with pleasure a lot. Like I say, the olive oil is right over there. Shall I go ahead and put it in myself?'

  "I have already lost my erection."

  "Ah. Talleyrand! There is no shame in that. Here. Let me help."

  She waggled around, found his deflated penis and started sucking. He tasted of her, and it turned her on. She never could reach her own pussy with her tongue, although she'd certainly tried.

  "Oh, oh... oh..." said Talleyrand.

  She found the olive oil and applied it. Rubbed it slinkily and knowingly.

  Talleyrand whimpered.

  "There you go. Tell you what. Stick it in. Give it a try. And then, if you get hit by a lightning bolt and God says, "What's going on?" we'll just tell him that you missed your aim!"

  "You are very humorous. You will... not be upset... if this does not work?"

  "Look, I'm happy. I just want to make you happy, Talleyrand. And I've never had a man who fucked me up the ass complain!"

  She turned around leaned over and again displayed her spread cheeks.

  "Oh, I am just a lonely young Catholic choir boy, leaning over naked in prayer. Oh priest... resist temptation!"

  "You are wicked!" But Talleyrand laughed.

  But then she could feel him fumbling with her buttocks, pulling them against him and trying to find his way.

  She reached back, grabbed him and stuck it in.

  "Oooooooh," he said. "Oooooooh!"

  "Tight, yes? Delightful. I am told I have splendid buttocks and--oh dear. I felt that! And I am told that I have a sweet... ah... sweet... Oh my ass!"

  Talleyrand said nothing. He had slowly inserted his penis partially up her rear, and was slowly moving back and forth. The sensation was very nice for her, but it sounded, from his whimpers and grunts, that it was out of this world for Talleyrand.

  "Mon Dieu! Si serré!" he gasped.

  My God, so tight!

  "Your buttocks are so ripe!” he gasped louder.

  She could feel herself responding. Strong surges zapped through her. She grabbed hold of the sheets and cried out. "Yes. Yes. Oh, deeper. Harder! Fuck my ass, you bastard. Fuck it, you villain! You evil scourge of God. Fuck it,
fuck it, fuck it!"

  Talleyrand went into conniptions. She could feel something wet plop down onto her back. She gave a quick look back. Was he sweating?

  Talleyrand’s face was a mask of surprise and rapture. His eyes were rolling up to the top of his head and he was shaking. And the stuff dripping onto Janice's back? Drool! The great diplomat was drooling on her!

  Oh God. Don't let him have a heart attack! she thought, suddenly frightened.

  She turned away and smiled to herself. "Oh you bastard! You cur! You bad, bad molester. Fuck me, you prick!"

  It took some seconds more of this violent upheaval. Talleyrand did not have a heart attack, all though when he did come, it sounded like he was undergoing some kind of seizure.

  In fact, it sounded like a carriage filled with people, going over a cliff.

  He shrieked and shriek, his cock rammed all the way into her. She could feel the jets of his come pushing into her. Or was that just her fancy.

  Any case, after some moments of this, he simply collapsed on her, then slipped off, rolling into a pile of matted hair and body fluids.

  For a moment, Talleyrand just lay there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish flipped out of water. He kept on muttering something to himself in a whisper. When she scooched closer, she could hear what he was saying:

  "Mon dieu! Mon dieu! Mon dieu."

  "My God, my God, my God!"

  He silenced after a bit, and then his breathing became more regular.

  "Talleyrand," she said. "Are you well?"

  One of his eyes opened and he peered at her through gummy lids. "I have died and gone to heaven. I know this, for before me is an angel."

  "Oh no, Talleyrand. You have died and gone to hell. For I am a demon."

  The other eye opened. "Yes. I have died for my sins and gone to hell. But then, I do believe that I have a different estimation now of demons."

  "Well, I am a fallen angel, you know."

  She kissed his forehead.

  He put his arm around her gently.

  "I am a man of words, yet I suddenly find myself without them," he said.

  "Then say nothing. There is no hurry. I am not doing anything else tonight."

  He closed his eyes again, breathed regularly for some time, and finally opened them.

  "I am not in hell. I am still in Paris. But the temptress angel is still with me." He smiled. "And am I correct to say that Napoleon... Napoleon turned you down?"

  "You have spoken in depth to Murat, then?"

  "I extracted much, for I had much interest in you. And that interest was well calculated and has proved a benefit. I hope it can be mutual."

  "Good." She sighed. "Yes, I am afraid so."

  "Yes, one more way in which the man is a fool!"

  "He is a great man!"

  "Yes. Yes. Of course, very great," Talleyrand agreed, although he did sound a bit weary of the adjective.

  "He said..." She paused.

  "He said he was afraid of love. Well, yes, then perhaps he is not such a fool."

  "Josephine hurt him very much, didn't she?'

  "Ah. Yes. Very much. But he was a fool to think that such a woman as she would be true. But then... in this... perhaps most men are fools. Myself included."

  "But he need not love me! I can be a terrible bitch! He will surely see that!" Somehow, in the heat of her feelings, the words just blurted out.

  "Janice, I do not doubt that, for I have just experienced the bitch in heat!" He laughed. "Surely, there are other... other men... great men... Perhaps not so great as Napoleon. But great nonetheless."

  She was about to say, "No! Only him!"

  But she stopped herself. How could Talleyrand understand? Besides, he was such a good confidant. She had to be careful, lest she give herself way. Herself and the truth of her origins. "Talleyrand," she said instead. "We have just made love. This really isn't time for me to speak of another man, don't you think?"

  "Are you saying--you might care to repeat this... this trysting... in the future?"

  "Oh yes! Yes, of course, Talleyrand. You are a wonderful lover to begin with and you are wise. Of course."

  A smile spread over the diplomat's features "I am pleased... so pleased..."

  "Of course, it cannot be but occasionally," she said.

  "I do not think I could survive, if it was often, Janice."

  "Good. Then we are friends, yes?"

  "Yes." He took her hand and kissed it. "At the very least."

  CHAPTER Five

  "Talleyrand" cried the Marquis de Sade. "Talleyrand! Why, yes. Of course I have heard of him."

  Janice sipped her coffee, playing the coquette. "He is now... my very good friend."

  In the short period of time that Janice had known the Marquis, she seldom saw him surprised. Nor delighted. But now he was both.

  "And you have bedded him?"

  She sipped. "Let us just say for now... We are very close." She winked coyly at her friend

  "My God, my God," de Sade stood up from his chair and started pacing. "My God!"

  "That is just what Talleyrand said--ah--when we were riding."

  "Ah ha! Tally ho, as the English say. A bit of the whip then?" de Sade's eyes gleamed.

  "No. No. Talleyrand seems to gain so much pleasure though other routes, a whip is not necessary. I speak of our ride in the country, of course."

  "Well. So my instruction was no good for you, then," said de Sade. "Ah well."

  "On the contrary. Under your tutelage, I am truly inspired. And somehow, I was so inspired during our... riding session."

  De Sade cocked his head quizzically. "Oh? How so?"

  Janice laughed. She gave up her ‘country riding’ and told her friend plainly.

  "My God," said de Sade. "I did not know that! About Talleyrand. A priest!"

  "A priest. No longer."

  "And... And he travelled the avenue of chocolate."

  "Oh and he loved it, de Sade. He had never done it before.

  "I thought all priests were sodomites!" said de Sade. "But then, I am jaundiced and satiric always. And of course this is why he loved it so. If he is an ex-priest, still, surely he must carry the cloth inside of him. And buggering a beauty..."

  "Why, thank you, Marquis!"

  "Buggering a beauty would make him nothing less than a very naughty boy!" De Sade laughed heartily. "Oh my! That is indeed a story."

  She was now visiting de Sade in his apartment. It was a few weeks since the two had met and they had become friends. She'd talked Murat into bringing the man--who was, in fact, rather financially destitute--down to Paris again to be near him. Slowly she was taking him into her confidence. She was also attempting to get more income for him from his books and giving him time and space to write more.

  De Sade was odd, in that he wasn't anywhere near the lecher and opportunist she'd imagined him to be. In fact, he was very polite--and seemed interested only in the intellectual nature of sexual liberty. Or perhaps he was a bit burnt out? In any case, she did quiz him from time to time on technical things.

  "In fact," said Janice, "as long as we have the leisure time now." She poured out some more coffee from a decanter and pushed the cream and sugar his way. "I must ask you, why you find yourself in these circumstances?"

  "Ah! You are from America! The colonies. Now just you imagine what it would be like for nobles with lands and such who might live in America to be suddenly--removed. In fact, I had my problems, in a way, fortunately, long before the revolution. You see, I have always been a libertine and I have always been a scoffaw. I write, and I write when I am in prison or the insane asylum, but when I was out before, I acted."

  "An activist!" said Janice in English.

  "Ah, this is a term I do not know. In any case, somehow I survived the revolution after my fall well before. I survived in prison, was liberated, and I served for a while, and then was interred once more. Believe me, if I had not been, my head would have rolled. In any case, when I came out again, I n
aturally sought out help from Barras and the Directory, in power at the time. But do you know how many Frenchmen had fled and were now asking for redemption? Almost 20,000 I have heard! Barras--that scoundrel, whom no doubt has read my work--did not like me and my philosophies, and thus I was not brought back into my lands and wealth. And so, my wife and I--Constance of course--found ourselves in penury. It was the summer of 1798 and we were forced to leave our house in Saint Ouen and live apart. She had friends to live with. And I--oh my--I had some debts owed me by a farmer on my land. Oh, the shame. He let me live with him awhile, but then, when the rents were paid and he owed me no longer--out I went. Out! I treated him well, and thought we got along. Not so. He hated me and in truth it was a mistake to give him my books," De Sade spat. "Can these peasant not take my literature with a grain of salt?"

  Janice laughed. "Oh, I use a whole shaker."

  De Sade glowered at her. "You do?"

  "Oh goodness yes. You are like a spoiled brat, wailing and ranting. A spoiled brat who must have his way. And in the playpen you must have hurled your milk and porridge! And past puberty you hurled your prostitutes!'

  De Sade smiled. "I did! I did, didn't I?" He looked at her in a puzzled way. "Why do I let you say these terrible things about me? You know me so well. I wish I were not so fond of you."

  "You'd take me across your lap and give me a bloody good spanking, then, wouldn't you?"

  "No!" declared de Sade. "No. You would enjoy it far too much."

  "Please do go on with your story. By the way, you are an excellent story teller. Please forgive my peasant-like intrusions."

  "Yes, well, after that, I have to say I had to beg. The Marquis de Sade beg! I begged in the countryside, and fortunately found some charitable people. I learned very soon that the cheapest place to live in France was none other than Versailles! Can you imagine? Versailles! Home of the Sun King Himself. Ah yes, but there was little sun that cold winter. I lived on the charity of others."

  "But your books. Your royalties. Surely--"

  "My legal matters were in disarray! You remember this was the time of the corrupt Directory. But after that winter--another regime was on its way. That of Fouche and Napoleon Bonaparte! But still, my fortunes were in tatters for I was denied my very own identity and rights--and indeed royalties for my books--because of my émigré status."