And he hangs up too. Sibylle slowly puts the phone in her bag and think about it, pondering; then runs to the metro.
Yes, she will go to face him! She is ready to meet him, to meet the sole faithful man in a woman's life, the only man who can forgive: a father.
Guillaume is in the huge mechanical workshop founded by his grandfather nearly a century before. The man works in the enormous local directing and teaching at many people, men and women. He is a man with salt and pepper hair and emerald eyes, like his daughter. He is still very attractive in spite of his sixty years, and he really is a strong and active man. He is also a father to those who work for him. Yes, he has been able to be a father for all, except for his own daughter. He always had a fight with her because of Claude. He never liked how the man treated her, and when Claude put her in front of the cruel decision between her husband or her father she had obviously chosen her husband. Guillaume didn't see her ever since. He knows that Sibylle is a good person, as she has always been. As a child she was so docile to inspire tenderness to anyone.
«Guillaume?» calls a young man behind him.
He turns and looks at the boy who point at the entrance with his chin: in the parking lot outside there is Sibylle waiting for him, twisting her hands visibly uncomfortable. Guillaume startles: she really came! He heads out and when she sees him approaching, she looks away. The man stops in front of her: he is tall and imposing while she is small and delicate, like her mother.
Sibylle extends a shaky hand and hands him a piece of paper folded in half. He shakes his head, he knew it! She used to do that since she was a child. When she didn't have the courage to speak, she wrote what she wanted to say. The man opens the paper and stares at what's inside, while his daughter watches him attentively, studying his reaction. The man bites his lower lip, as he always does when he is pensive, then crumples the paper and throws it to the ground. Sibylle retreats one step, ready to leave. But when the man looks at her, his eyes have a compassionate light. He is seeing in her the frightened little girl who was afraid of him when she did something wrong. The man reaches out a hand to touches her face.
«You miss daddy?»
Sibylle nods, holding her tears. He tilts his head to the side, looking at her with tenderness.
«You feel ashamed for what you did, don't you?»
She nods again, pressing her lips to hold back the tears.
«And you want me to forgive you, right?»
She swallows a sob and nods again, with her lips trembling and her eye full of tears. He makes a tender smile that shows clearly from whom she got that beautiful expression.
«Come here.» he whispers drawing her to him.
Sibylle hugs him desperately.
«Dad!» she cries.
«I'm here, baby, I'm here. I've always been here, Sisi. Dad is always there, even after you kick him out of your life, he never really goes away.»
She snuggles against her father's chest. Held in his strong arms, Sibylle can enjoy the warmth of reconciliation and the sweet taste of forgiveness. She now feels safe, at home. The man closes his eyes and leans over to kiss her head, he also enjoys the warmth of his sweet daughter, her love, her tenderness.
He missed her so much! Her lovely Sibylle. He sinks his big hands in her black waves and squeezes hard, feeling deeply in peace. Now everything is as it should be, he feels complete, he feels alive. He is a father again.
The breeze rolls off the crumpled piece of paper on which Sibylle had not written anything, but where she made a drawing: a man hugging his daughter.
~
That afternoon, Sibylle is heading at the Galerie d'Art Sibylle to finish the preparations for the exhibition of 18th of May. She is dressed in a beautiful pink chiffon knee length empire dress, studded with clear crystals. She is driving her colorful and opalescent deux chevaux with the car top down, so that she can enjoy the beautiful Spring sun, along the Avenue de l'Hippodrome. The trees on both sides of the road give a touch of calm to her thoughts, the sun's rays are pleasantly caressing her face and all around. She turns on the radio and rejoices happily when she hears a melodic electronic music.
«Woo Hoo!»
She turns up the volume and starts swaying on her seat, moving madly her upper body, clapping her hands rhythmically. She stops the car because the traffic light turned red, continuing to move her arms and shoulders totally absorbed in the music that she loves so much, that gives her shivers of energy, which inspires her even in painting. She doesn't notice immediately the stunning black sport motorbike which stops next to her car. The majestic man that mounts it is dressed in a black bike pants, gloves and boots, and a sport leather jacket. He crosses his arms and puts the feet on the ground, waiting for the green light, but mostly staring at her swaying in her seat. He seems really interested in her. His black helmet doesn't allow to see his face, not even a reflection of it. Who knows if he is smiling seeing the young woman dancing in that way?
Sibylle has her eyes closed, her lips tight and her body moving sinuously when she feels observed; she turns her head and sees that impressive man staring at her. She stops immediately and smiles shyly, feeling embarrassed. The man doesn't move a muscle and she begins to feel a strange feeling inside. A moment later he does something that shocks her: he points his index at her then closes his fist beating it on his chest twice. Drakkar!
The traffic light turns green and he leaves with a deafening roar, disappearing on the horizon in a few seconds. Sibylle doesn't move, lost in her astonishment. Behind her some cars honk impatiently, but she ignores them. A black car surpasses her and stops next to her car. It's a distinguished lady on her fifties, with a beautiful bob cut on her brownish hair.
«Excuse me, madame, are you stupid?» she asks kindly, strangely not offensive as if she was really asking her seriously.
«No, I'm stunned! I just saw my lover!» explains Sibylle as she were speaking with an old friend. «He is a biker!»
The lady in the black car raises her eyebrows and smiles mischievously.
«Mmmm, sexy.»
Sibylle nods vigorously.
«I don't even know his name and I've never seen his face. I know nothing of him, I just know that when I'm with him—», she stops and sighs with dreamy eyes.
The other woman shakes her head.
«Yeah, sure, a “lover”. Pfff, look at you! Come on, my dear, that man is something else.»
Sibylle smiles sadly.
«No, he is not. He is a man with whom I shared something profound, but he decided not to see me again.»
The lady looks on the horizon.
«Is that so? Then why he seems waiting for you?»
She starts laughing and leaves, honking to greet her. Sibylle looks into the distance and sees the man in his wonderful black motorbike standing on the side of the road. Her mouth opens in amazement. The man is waiting, looking in the side mirror, and when he sees her driving to him, he enters a small side road in the woods there, disappearing in the vegetation. When she arrives where he was she parks the car and get off, following the path which leads in the wood. She hears the rumble of the motorbike and realizes that he is in there somewhere; the rumbles stops and she understand that he shut off the engine. She walks among the trees, feeling the heart beating harder. There he is! Sitting on his huge black motorbike, with his feet on the ground and his arms crossed, looking at her. Sibylle stops, feeling her hands shaking.
“He is awesome...”, she thinks.
Drakkar looks at her and clenches his jaws: that dreamy dress, that silky hair, that lovely face...
“She is magnificent...”, he thinks.
When she arrives to him, he loosens his arms and moves the index, mutely asking her to come closer. She moves toward him and stares at the black visor, in which the only thing she can see is her own reflection. His hand touches gently her cheek then slides on her neck, on her shoulders, on her chest, stopping on the breast. He strokes it for a long time, looking at her face; then he gently claws
it firmly, making her moan. Without moving away her eyes from his face, she takes off her panties. He draws her to him by the arm, grabs her by the hips sitting her on the bike facing him. The man stops to take off his biker gloves and his black jacket, staying with a tight dark T-shirt which highlights his powerful body. He lifts her pink dress and begins to caress her intimate silky hairs. She is so incredibly velvety down there! He is deeply enjoying it and Sibylle can almost see his voluptuous look under the black helmet. The woman admires his muscular arms, so hard and so strong. She closes her eyes feeling the deep desire of being taken by him! Drakkar starts playing with her intimate part, caressing it, penetrating with one finger, then two, watching her squirm and gasp loudly. He flairs his nostril like a wild bull ready to gore, while he tries to refrain from assaulting her like an animal. With her he feels like a teenager again, unable to control his bestial instincts. On one hand this bothers him, but on the other hand it excites him a lot! He must have her. Immediately. He unbuttons his pants and frees his hard member penetrating her slowly, since she is too tight to be taken violently. She holds her breathe, trying to relax to let him insinuate inside her warm body. Drakkar grabs her firmly by her thighs and begins to push her on his potent masculinity. In few minutes he is pushing hard in her while she moans and begs him to push even harder. He looks up to the sky, trying to control the vital energy that moves his body now. He enjoys the warmth of her delicate body, loving every second in her. His strong arms draws her to him in a regular rhythm, filling the air with the sound of her pink skin banging hard against his testicles. He grabs the dress and lowers it roughly, revealing her delicate breast, then slaps it to the side many times, growling like a beast. His other hand caresses strongly her neck, her face, her hair; then he grabs her by the throat and squeezes just enough to make her moan. With two fingers touches the clitoris, increasing the pleasure for both. Sibylle touches gently the hand holding her throat, caresses his arm and then holds his big wrist with both her hands — whit her fingers barely touching — and begins to suck his thumb. Soon she feels the orgasm approaching, so she moves her body faster against him, sucking harder his finger.
«Drakkar! Oh y—yes, yes, yes! I'm coming!»
The man pushes deeper and few moments later Sibylle is writhing in the pleasure of the orgasm, screaming gutturally. Drakkar growls loudly in her helmet, moving her against him with such force that he almost fears of hurting her. The man comes discreetly, with his usual raucous noises that Sibylle loves so much. He gets out of her and wet her with his warm jet on her smooth stomach. They both stand still now, panting, looking — supposedly — in each other's eyes.
~
Late that night, Sibylle is still up painting. On the canvas begins to come alive the image of a woman in 1920's style, with a crystal bottle in one hand and a peacock on her right shoulder, which in the plumed tail there are many small colored spirals. She puts down her brushes and goes to lie down on the bed, but just after she closes her eyes the phone rings.
«Yes?» she responds with a hoarse sleepy voice.
«Good evening, it's Saphir. Forgive me for the time, madame Améthyste, I'm calling to tell you about the details of a rendezvous, if you're interested.»
«Hmmm, no thanks, I do not think I'm—»
«With Drakkar.»
She sits up straight, suddenly totally awake.
«Oh!»
«Yes, I was even more surprised, believe me. So, are you interested?»
«Yep. Please, tell me more.»
«Very well. So, from your personal folder it results that you have an erotic fantasy about a burglar who sneaks into your house at night, is that so?»
«Yes, that is correct.» she confirms, a little ashamed.
«Good», continues Saphir in a very professional manner, «Drakkar will be that burglar. He will arrive at night. You will be informed on the day but not on the precise time, just to make it more realistic.»
«How will he get in? Do I have to let the keys somewhere?»
Saphir laughs softly.
«Don't worry, he knows what to do. He wants you to know that it will be a role-playing rendezvous so he wants you in role, madame Améthyste. Since you may need to get out of role there will be a secret word. If you want to talk to Drakkar instead of the ‘burglar’ you should simply say: Tijuana. It is similar to a safeword, but — while that serves to stop the game when it becomes too difficult to sustain right for one's own safety — a secret word can be used just to make a comment not related to the ‘character’ or to emphasize or clarify something. It's useful for when you need to enter and exit the role in an elastic way. I think that's all for now. One last thing, madame Améthyste: what did you do to that man?»
Sibylle chuckles, but doesn't answer, not knowing what to say. The real question is: what he did to her?...
- Chapter V
“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
— Lao Tzu
~
The night of the rendezvous arrives. Sibylle was told that the ‘burglar’ would arrive between 11pm and 1am. In the past hours she enjoyed a long hot bath enriched with refined oils; the she massaged her body with a delicate flowers essence and after that she put on few drops of violet perfume. She puts a glossy lotion on her beautiful wavy hair which now look incredibly smooth and silky; she wore a little make-up, a silver chain around her waist and a pearly pink nail polish. She is now putting on a pair of black stockings; two red garters with little bows; a pair of black lace panties; a red tulle babydoll and red high heeled shoes with silver heels. The lights are dimmed, the glass doors of the balcony are open and a sensual background music fills the air.
Everything is ready and the atmosphere is relaxed and intimate. The cats are sleeping in the terrace and Verdâtre the caterpillar turned chrysalis few days before.
Sibylle starts to dance sinuously in front of the mirror in her bedroom. It's a big room, the largest of all the penthouse. There is a huge canopy bed in the center made of wrought iron, and adorned with colorful veils; there are also eleven pillows scattered on the bed and on the floor, and there is a big white round carpet which takes a good part of the room. There is a walk-in closet with sliding mirrors doors and there are two elegant sofas. On the walls there is an amazing trompe l'oeil of a beautiful forest, and on the ceiling there is another one which depicts the shiny surface of the sea, as seen from underwater. And then there are those wonderful glass doors from where one can see the lights of the city.
Sibylle stops dancing and goes to the kitchen to get a snack. Passing near the front door she sees that it's still locked from the inside as she left it. She still doesn't see how he can enter the apartment. When in the kitchen she opens the silver fridge and stares inside: there is nothing appetizing. After closing it she stiffens seeing a shadow behind her on the reflection of the metal. She slowly turns around and her mouth opens in shock: at the terrace's door there is Drakkar. He is standing with his legs slightly apart, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes steady on her. He is dressed with combat boots, blacks army pants, a dark T-shirt and a black balaclava that reveals only his piercing eyes. How did he get up there? She lives at the 5th floor!
Sibylle flattens her back against the fridge while her chest moves dramatically. She glances at the bedroom to the left but, before she can move, his deep voice immobilizes her:
«Don't move.» he articulates slowly.
She looks at him and swallows when he begins to approach. He arrives in front of her and places his hands on the side of her face, bending over to get a better look. She stares at him ecstatically. Those eyes... So beautiful, so piercing...
«P—please, don't hurt me...», she sobs, in her role.
He growls.
«I haven't touched you yet and you already whine!» He makes a sound of impatience with his mouth. «Do you have something valuable at home?»
She gaze at him for a long time but doesn't answer, so he grabs her chin and snar
ls.
«Answer me!»
She winces and closes her eyes, while her shoulders jump at the sound of his firm voice.
«I—I have nothing! I have no j—jewels, no money, I—I don't have anything valuable, I'm s—sorry...», she stutters.
He leaves her chin and backs upright, folding his arms.
«I hate it when I don't get what I want, it disappoints me! And I can become very, very brutal when I'm disappointed.»
Sibylle turns her face to the side to not see that penetrating look.
«I—I'm sorry, but I really don't have anything interesting.» she whispers.
Drakkar slips his fingers under the straps of her babydoll.
«Hmm, maybe you have something.»
Sibylle wriggles and he pushes her against the fridge, holding her neck with one hand.
«Try to react again and I'll kill you, do you hear me?! I'll take what I want and you'll let me do it, if you want to live. Do you understand?»
She nods, with her eyes shining with excitement, but they really seem shining with fear.
«Y—yes, sorry. I'll be good but, please, don't hurt me.»
He grins from under the balaclava.
«Look at me: I am big, angry and bad, do you really think I won't hurt you?!» He moves her face to the right and to the left, watching her closely. «But if you'll be good I won't be too rough.» With his other hand grabs her hair and pulls her head back, towering menacingly over her. «Now I will tear off your clothes and you must not articulate a syllable. Got it?»
She closes her eyes and a tear slips on her right cheek.
«Y—yes.»
The man's hands rips her babydoll off, and she holds her breath. The man looks her bare breasts, her lovely lace panties, her sensual black stockings, her red garters, her elegant high heeled shoes...
The Black Onyx Pact Page 7
