Never Turn Back

by Lorna Lee

  “Would you like some brandy?” He turned his back to her as he poured himself a drink.

  Remembering Tuula’s advice about alcohol helping in these situations, she accepted. “Oui, s’il vous plaît. A large one.”

  He turned back around with two glasses in his hands. Meri focused on the glass of brandy he offered to her, so she did not notice his barely filled glass. “Drink up. We have more interesting things to get to.” He set his glass down on his desk.

  Meri took a gulp of the brandy. It burned in her throat. She swallowed it with a grimace followed by a coughing fit. Chuckling, he took the glass from her and said, “I guess brandy isn’t your drink. You need something smoother in your mouth to take away the taste.” He started kissing her, forcing his brandied tongue into her mouth. The boys in Finland never kissed me like this, she thought. Rather than struggle—her first inclination—she let his tongue explore her open mouth.

  He reached around, as if to hold her hand. Instead, he placed her hand on his crotch. She felt something long and hard. He moaned inside her mouth. At least I won’t have to go through any fancy business to make his popol hard.

  The kissing stopped. “Take off your clothes, Meri.” He instructed rather than requested.

  She fumbled with the buttons on her dress. She was about to take off her brassiere when he stopped her.

  “Let me do that…please.”

  She did.

  Standing behind her, he fondling her full breasts as the brassiere slipped to the floor. “You are such a beautiful woman. Tuula was right.” He whispered as he nibbled her ear.

  Her nipples responded by hardening, which surprised her and delighted him. She could tell because his nibbles seemed hungrier, and he rubbed his body against her. So far, this isn’t so bad…His hands slid down her slightly rounded belly to the top of her panties. He slipped his fingers inside her panties and around her full hips to her round buttocks. His fingers touched the place between her legs. She moaned when he invaded that place. Meri wondered who had made the sound.

  He guided her panties down to the floor. “Every part of you is perfect. I am a lucky man to be with you, my dear.”

  Meri felt flattered by his compliments, and then embarrassed by what happened next. Too poor to afford stockings, she was bare legged. He didn’t seem to mind, but she did. Her naked body captured his attention. Except she still had her shoes on. She was wondering what she should do about her shoes when she felt his hard popol against her buttocks. Had he already gotten undressed or undressed enough for his thing to be out?

  “Meri,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers through her, “turn around.”

  She did.

  He was still fully clothed. This isn’t fair. He guided her to the couch in his office, leaving her clothes behind, leaving the condom in her dress pocket behind.

  “You are like an angel. I can’t believe you’re a virgin,” He said, all breathy whispers in her neck, breasts, and hair.

  Meri used her hands to cup his face, get his attention. “Protection?”

  “Ah, oui.” Disappointment flashed in his lustful eyes. Begrudgingly, he sat up on the edge of his couch, reached in his pocket, tore open a packet, and rather effortlessly placed a long balloon-like thing on his penis. “A necessary evil, non?” He smiled and dove back into suckling her breasts. The act of putting on the condom, it seemed, softened him.

  He lay on top of her and massaged her breasts eagerly while forcing his tongue back into her mouth. In a few moments, he was hard again. Using his knee, he spread her legs and shoved his penis into her. She groaned, but she wanted to scream. This is pain not pleasure. The pumping that Tuula had talked about began. She didn’t mention all the heavy breathing and grunting, too. Finally he thrust very hard, shuddered, and fell on top of her. The whole time Meri had her eyes tightly shut and her hands in fists against the side and back of the couch.

  He withdrew, tucked in his shirt, zipped up his trousers, and offered his hand to help her sit up. “You can get dressed now, Meri. We are done.” He smiled.

  As Meri sat up, she noticed her shoes again. While this man took her virginity, her shoes remained glued to her feet, as if she had the choice to walk away at any time. Only she did not.

  Meri got up from the couch. They both noticed a small circle of blood on the cushion. She was mortified. He shrugged. “You are no longer a virgin, Meri. Congratulations! I will have to make up some kind of story for my cleaning lady. How about a female client visiting me during her time of the month?” He winked at her and pinched her cheek.

  Meri glared at him. A cleaning lady…like me?

  “Would you like me to take you home or do you prefer to walk?”

  “I’ll walk.” Her voice sounded dead to her.

  “Well, let me give you a little something for your troubles.” He handed Meri some money.

  She crumpled up the money and held it tightly in her fist without looking at how much he gave her. I don’t care how much money he gave me. It’s not enough. Her crotch felt bruised but not nearly as damaged as her dignity. How can Tuula do this every night with different men? I would go insane! Sex, not condoms, is the necessary evil as far as I’m concerned.

  “I like you, Meri. We should do this again soon.”

  Meri lowered her head, shrugged and then left him without saying a word.

  On her walk home, Meri knew her life had changed. She had no way of appreciating how much.

  The next morning, Meri waited for Tuula to get home. Fresh steaming coffee coming from her cup did nothing to ease her swollen eyes from a night of fitful sleep. Meri felt the caffeine start to clear her head when she heard the door open. Meri sprang to her feet and met Tuula while she was shedding her coat.

  “Good morning. You’re up earlier than usual, Meri.” Tuula yawned and stretched as she spoke.

  “I’ll have you know this is not a good morning, and last night was horrible. You said you would find me a nice man for my first time.” Meri, blocking Tuula’s entrance to her own apartment, glowered at the tired woman.

  “Calm down, will you?” She pushed Meri aside. “I smell coffee. Let me get some and then we’ll talk.”

  The two women sat facing each other at the round kitchen table. Meri fidgeted in her chair, her heart pounding, while Tuula sunk into hers. Meri spoke first. “Who is this man you said would be kind and gentle? He used his thing on me then threw me away.” Meri shuddered.

  “Non! Not Jean-Paul!” Tuula leaned forward. “He always takes me to a fancy dinner and buys me drinks. Then we go to his office where we can enjoy each other’s company in private.”

  Meri stared at Tuula. She began to feel dizzy.

  Tuula continued. “Did he buy you dinner at least?”

  “Oui.” Meri squeaked her reply.

  “Bought you decent wine?”

  Meri nodded.

  “Where did you do it?”

  “In his office.”

  “There you go! A perfect gentleman in my world. Meri, he’s the best man I know. He spends money on his women before sex. If you want love and romance, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  Meri’s cheeks, formerly flushed red with anger, now paled to a greyish tint. At least, she thought, I’m ready for Claude. I wonder if he’ll spend money on me before sex.

  Chapter 7: A Woman of Many Talents

  “Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.”

  William Jennings Bryan

  Cooking suited Meri. Servicing Monsieur Monville did not. But she understood the terms of their arrangement so she made her body available to him when the time came. Almost two months after the meeting in his office, Meri had officially become a fallen woman, a harlot, a tramp. She traded her twenty-one-year-old body for better working conditions. Claude gave her extra money sometimes. He thinks giving me money makes him a king in my eyes. Ha! This whole situation is filthy. Meri always took the cash as
insurance for a better future, even though she felt no different than a prostitute as she tucked the Francs in her pocket.

  Meri learned the difference between sacrificial sex and sex on her own terms. She was not promiscuous. Quite the opposite, she behaved like a proper young woman when she went out on the town with Siri. On the evenings she spent with a man her own age and who treated her to dancing or dinner, she decided how the evening would end. Meri was finally enjoying a social life in “The “City of Love” with Claude’s money financing her delightful evenings.

  “Why don’t you ever go out with me?” Tuula asked Meri one evening as she prepared to go out for the night.

  “Tuula, when you go out, you’re working. When I go out, I’m socializing.”

  “My work is social.” Tuula looked up from affixing her garter belt to her stocking, knowing Elina’s ever-listening ears might be close.

  “Of course, but it’s a different kind of ‘social.’ I don’t want to interfere.”

  If Meri had been honest with Tuula, she would have said she did not want to mingle with the kinds of men or in the kinds of places Tuula “danced.” I don’t want to insult this woman who I consider more of a sister than my real sisters.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Tuula sighed. “Are you going out tonight, or are you staying home with Elina? Sometimes I worry about her being home alone now that you’re going out more often.”

  At the sound of her name, Elina appeared.

  “I don’t go out that often, Tuula. Don’t worry about our Elina. We’ll keep busy tonight.” Meri put her arm around Elina’s shoulders. They both nodded enthusiastically.

  “Well, whatever you two cook up, I’m sure you’ll have more fun than I will. See you tomorrow morning.” Tuula pulled on her coat, kissed Elina, hugged Meri, and left the apartment smiling.

  “Mamma worries about you, Meri,” Elina said as she hopped up onto the settee next to Meri.

  “Why?” Meri began tickling Elina. She used to love tickling Jani and hearing his little boy laugh.

  “Stop! It tickles!”

  “It’s supposed to tickle, silly girl!”

  Elina wiggled away from Meri’s probing fingers. “She worries you’ll leave us to go live on your own. I worry about that, too. Don’t tell her I told you. She’ll be mad.”

  “Oh, Kulta, there’s nothing to fear. My job keeps me just poor enough to share this perfect apartment with you and your Mamma.” Meri surprised herself by referring to Elina with the term of endearment her Papa had used only for her and she used only for Jani. She loved hearing her Papa call her “Kulta”—sweetheart, honey, baby. Meri realized just how much she had grown to cherish Elina. Meri reached over and tickled Elina again. “I won’t tell your Mamma you said anything.”

  Elina dodged her grasp. “Good! You should stay here forever…even if you can’t resist tickling me.”

  “Not good! I want to be rich enough to buy a big house for all of us…one with our very own bathroom. Maybe two bathrooms! But not rich like the wasteful, sloppy people at the Hôtel Raphael.” Meri started to scowl.

  “As long as we all stay together, I’m happy. Our very own bathroom?” Elina jumped up and down doing circles around Meri.

  Meri pondered an easier life with Elina, Tuula, and maybe even Siri. “Then that’s my new goal.” But I’ll have to find a different job, Meri added to herself.

  Meri chased Elina around the small apartment, determined to hear her giggle once again. The rare sound of Meri’s laughter and of Elina’s screams of delight filled Apartment 3C.

  §

  The different job did not manifest until the spring of 1929, over four years after she had begun working at the Hôtel Raphael. For most of those years, she endured Claude Monville’s groping, sloppy kisses, and grunts when he was mounted on her. At least Monsieur Touchet, who must have known about her arrangement with his colleague, had the professionalism and decency not to exploit his female kitchen help. Perhaps some other woman captured her kitchen supervisor’s fancy. Could he be a decent man, Meri wondered?

  Meri endured the “Claude arrangement” because she learned a useful skill in the kitchen—French cooking. Siri had yet to find her a better paying job, whether in the fashion industry or not. Meri began to think Siri wasn’t seriously looking.

  On a warm, sunny Sunday in April, 1929, Siri and Meri met for their weekly breakfast. Siri, unusually anxious to be seated started talking the moment they sat down. “I have some very good news for you, Meri. Finally. Good news!”

  “What is it? Please tell me you found me a better job.”

  “I heard about it on Friday, and I’ve been aching to tell you. The letter came in late in the day, so no one has done anything with it yet. You can be the first applicant…if you want.”

  The waitress took their usual order: a black coffee and croissant each.

  “Siri, what’s the job? How I can decide if I don’t know what it is?” Meri rolled her eyes. She was used to Siri’s quirky way of withholding important information and forgetting she withheld it.

  “Of course! Sorry. A letter came from a Finnish man who’s been living in Paris for many years. He must be rich because he’s used the Embassy to recommend personal assistants in the past. That’s the job this time, too; the man needs a personal assistant. Are you interested?”

  “I don’t know. What’s a personal assistant? What would I be doing?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess you should apply and talk to him.”

  “Do you know anything else about the job?”

  “Only that his name is Topias Nurmi and he lives at 5 Rue Mignard.”

  “Merci, Siri. How should I approach Monsieur Nurmi, through the Embassy or on my own? I like my kitchen job, but I can’t stand being with Claude. He’s getting fatter and more demanding.” Meri winced and covered her face. She continued. “He’s jealous, too. He hates that I sometimes go out to clubs de danse with you to meet men my own age.”

  “I think it’s time you leave the Hôtel Raphael and horrible Claude behind you. But…correspondence like Monsieur Nurmi’s letter is supposed to remain confidential until it’s officially processed and released through proper channels. Could you contact him on your own?”

  “I suppose. What would I say? Meri stared into her cup of coffee as if looking for an answer. Coffee isn’t the place to find clear answers, she decided. Meri looked at Siri with pinched lips and eyebrows.

  Siri shrugged. “Tell him you’re in the neighborhood looking for more professional work.”

  Meri took a bite of her croissant. “I think that sounds suspicious.”

  “I don’t think so.” Siri sipped her coffee.

  After spending a few hours with Siri, Meri went back to the apartment and pulled out her map of Paris. She found Monsieur Nurmi’s address. He lived about two kilometers from the hotel. I want the job. It sounds more professional and will get me out of Claude’s sweaty palms, but I don’t know what the job is or even how to apply. I don’t want to make a fool of myself and ruin my chance at a better job…

  “What are you doing?” Elina sidled up next to Meri and stared at the map as intently as Meri. “Did you find us the perfect home?”

  “Non. Not yet, Kulta. I’m searching for a new job—one paying enough for our big home with a private bathroom.”

  “Where is it? What kind of job?” Elina, now thirteen years old, jumped up and down with as much excitement as if Meri had just told her they were going on a shopping spree. Meri smiled. The little girl in her still lingers.

  “Calm down, Elina. It’s a ‘maybe job.’ I haven’t even applied yet. Save your excitement for when I get the job.” If I get the job.

  “Can you tell me anything?” Elina deflated. Meri knew how much this little girl loved information and intrigue. She had little else in her life except “mysteries” of any size to keep her engaged and happy. She still had not figured out where Tuula went during the night and was told quite sternly not to investigate. Mer
i took pity on this inquisitive child and decided to give her what she wanted most: information.

  “There’s a rich Finnish man who needs something called a personal assistant. I’m going to apply for the position.”

  “What’s a personal assistant?”

  Meri shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea.”

  Elina’s face twisted into a comical question mark. “How will you get him to hire you?”

  “I think you should help me think of what personal assisting a rich man needs. Then I will be able to tell him how well I can do those things.” Meri gave Elina a conspiratorial look.

  “I’ll be right back.” Elina smiled as she ran to get a pencil and paper. She’s preparing to be a secret agent on a very important mission. I’ve seen her do it a hundred times.

  Although starting as a game for Elina, the brainstorming helped Meri with ideas for what a personal assistant might do. Together, they decided he did not want someone to do domestic work (otherwise he would have advertised for a maid). The word “personal” concerned Meri, but she did not share her fears with Elina. A rich man, Meri reasoned, probably wouldn’t use the Finnish Embassy to arrange for women to service him, so the kind of “personal” assisting must not be related directly to sex. Still, she could not dismiss the idea entirely. If he needed assistance with a health problem, they deduced together, he would have requested a nurse.

  “What else could the man need a personal assistant for?” Elina tapped the pencil on the table.

  They finally decided that he needed help with managing his daily affairs—shopping, running errands, writing letters and posting them, escorting him in public, and keeping him company.

  “As long as he isn’t a scary old ogre, you can do all of those things.” Elina patted Meri on the back.

  Meri nodded her head slowly. Having lived and worked in Paris for six years, Meri was fully immersed in French culture. She mastered French cooking and had become fluent in the language. She knew the Paris landscape well. Not a foreigner anymore, Meri seemed indistinguishable from a native Parisian. Yet her Finnish roots ran deep; she still spoke her native tongue and remembered Finnish customs as well. If he needed a Finn, she could be a Finn.