Belle Pearl

by Arianne Richmonde

  Pearl stopped reading and tittered to herself. She put down the magazine. “I thought I was an open book.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Sometimes you play it cool and I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

  “I wear my heart on my sleeve—it’s you who has everyone guessing. You’re the trickster. You made me believe that it was over between us that time at Anthony’s when I was blubbering in his back yard and you gave me all those ‘goodbye’ gifts. Bastard. Is there still a Coke in the cooler?”

  “Coming right up,” I said, snapping the ring, pouring the brown liquid into a glass and handing it to her. “Oh wait, let me give you some ice cubes. And a squeeze of lemon.” I dressed up her drink and took a sip. “Delicious. Finish the article.”

  She squinted her eyes at me. “Why have you got a guilty look on your face?”

  I took in a deep breath. Sometimes there are things that niggle your subconscious, even when your conscious mind has wiped it clean. This was one of those things. “Because there’s something I never told you,” I said tentatively. “Something I hid from you.” The blood drained from Pearl’s face. “Don’t panic,” I added, “it’s nothing terrible—I’d even forgotten all about it, but when you mentioned the ‘goodbye’ gifts and so on; it came back to me.”

  She sat up. “Okay, come clean.”

  “I still have your old handbag. The one I told you was stolen. The old iPhone I smashed in a temper when I heard Laura’s sneaky message telling you that Sophie was going to bump you off.”

  She raised an insolent brow. Uh oh, the whole Laura topic was about to be dragged out of the muddy mire. But Pearl answered coolly, “I know. When I was looking for an extra suitcase last year, I found the old purse stashed inside, at the back of one of your closets.” She winked at me.

  “How come you never let on?”

  “Because I enjoyed having the last laugh. I loved the idea that you thought you had me out-foxed but, in fact, it was the other way round.” Her lips tilted into a self-satisfied smirk, then she closed her eyes and lay back down. “Besides I got a forty grand Birkin bag out of it, so how could I complain?”

  “How do you know it cost that much?” I asked. “You weren’t meant to know the price!”

  “The second Laura and her antennae saw the unusual color of the bag, she knew it was an one-off, custom-made piece of art. It was Laura, herself, who enlightened me; that dreaded time when I went to her house in London to confront her.”

  Please don’t remind me of Laura. I squeezed Pearl’s thigh. “So you weren’t pissed at me, then, for holding out on you? For not being honest?”

  “It was…what, a year later? Laura was dead. You were mine and everything had worked out just as it should have, so no. I was mildly miffed, but not angry. In fact, you probably did the right thing under the circumstances.”

  “You minx,” I said, kissing her hand, “hiding all your inside knowledge.”

  “It takes two to tango, Chevalier.” She opened her eyes—as blue as the ocean before us—and grinned.

  “And we tango so beautifully together.”

  “Yes, we do. Speaking of finding stuff, I forgot to tell you. I found my great grandmother’s diary in a box of my mother’s that I had in storage.”

  I remembered Pearl telling me about her. She was a lady’s maid, had an affair with the lord of the manor, and they ended up fleeing to America. “The racy one?” I asked. “The English one who eloped with the duke?”

  She took a sip of her Coke. “That was pretty scandalous stuff in 1923.”

  “So what did the diary say?”

  “I haven’t read it yet. I’m savoring it for when I’m holed up in the hospital, giving birth.”

  “I doubt you’ll be able to concentrate on reading, chérie. Remember the labor pains last time? The last thing you’ll want to do is read.”

  “Funny how women have amnesia after giving birth. How we forget the horrible part of it.”

  “You were designed that way on purpose. If you remembered what a rough time of it you had, you might not go through with it again.”

  “You’re right.

  “Finish reading me the article,” I said.

  Pearl picked up the magazine again and leafed through it until she found the right page:

  ‘Just as I am preparing my next question, a woman comes up to our table. At first, I think it is Charlize Theron (No surprise there, so many famous people stay at the George V.) But then I see it is none other than Pearl Chevalier, herself. She is stunning. Even more beautiful in the flesh than in photos. Her skin smooth and golden, her eyes a sparkling blue/gray. Her blonde hair is pinned up in a messy chignon and she’s wearing a loose, flowing, floral coat that looks as if it might be vintage Christian Lacroix. I notice her swollen belly. It is evident that Pearl Chevalier is pregnant again.

  Very pregnant indeed.’

  “Sounds as if she had a crush on you, more like,” I teased.

  “Charlize Theron? Well, that is flattering, I have to admit”

  “You’re more beautiful than any movie star.”

  Pearl adjusted her weight, trying to find a comfortable position to accommodate her taut, round belly. “Love the touch about the jungle. I don’t think a jungle is quite my scene. Something Elodie might like, though. Have you heard from her lately?”

  “She sent me an e-mail. What I said about hooking up with a surfer? Guess what? She has. His name’s Lucho and he’s Columbian,” I told Pearl.

  “From the frying pan into the fire.”

  “I don’t think so—he sounds like a nice guy. He’s only twenty-three, or so. No money, just his surfboard and a good heart.”

  “Good luck to her, dating a surfer—if he’s anything like my dad.”

  “He sounds very committed to her. He has no idea who Elodie is, either.” The words flew out of my mouth and I stopped. No idea who Elodie is…Who was Elodie? Not even I had the answer to that question.

  “You mean, he has no idea she has a control-freak, powerful, billionaire mother and an uncle who pretends he lives in a tree-house in Thailand?”

  “She’s just a student with a backpack as far as he’s concerned.”

  Pearl let the magazine drop onto the sand and stretched her arms out. “Smart girl. Or she’d end up paying for his lodging and food for the next few months.”

  “I don’t know—it sounds as if he’s very keen on her.”

  “Well, anything’s better than Mikhail Prokovich. I still can’t believe he got his slimy hands on her. By the way, any more news on him? It seems so odd what happened. I just don’t get how someone can kill themselves that way…surely survival instinct kicks in at the last moment?”

  “Karma,” I answered quickly. “It was meant to be. He got his just desserts.”

  “After all that work Natalie and I did,” Pearl mumbled.

  “Yeah, but you still exposed all his aides; all those dodgy people in high places who were making a mint because of the loopholes in the law.”

  “True.” Pearl pondered what I’d said. “Alexandre, can I ask you a favor?”

  I hesitated, hoping the conversation wouldn’t go any further. “Sure. Anything.”

  “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back? I want to turn over.” Phew, I thought. She maneuvered her body so she was now lying on her front, taking care to not squish her tummy.

  “I’ll try,” I said, getting the cream out of her beach bag.

  “What do you mean, you’ll try?”

  “Tall order,” I said, squeezing some onto my palm and edging up to her towel. I placed my gooey hands over her shoulders and started to massage her smooth back. Within seconds I was as solid as a rod. I wanted to fuck here there and then. “Jesus, what is it about your skin?”

  She turned her head; her eyes scanning down to the bulge in my swim shorts and laughed, her teeth bright against her tan. She rolled over onto her back again, exposing her swollen belly once more. “Okay, do my tummy then if it’s gettin
g you so horny.”

  But her stomach didn’t deter my ardor. Her pregnancy really turned me on. I began to rub the cream in gently—my eyes straying to her beautiful, big, full breasts. My cock started pounding; throbbing with desire. “I have to fuck you, Pearl. Please don’t torment me with this.” I leaned into her face and kissed her. “Please, chérie, let’s go inside for a while. It’s siesta time.”

  She looked over to where the nanny was making sandcastles with the twins, and sighed. “Poor Joy, we can’t just abandon her.”

  I straddled her, my swim shorts tented with my raging hard-on. “Yes we can.” I leaned down and breathed Pearl in. Sun. Coca Cola, sun cream, the Pearl Elixir. My eyes were hooded with lust. “I have to fuck you,” I whispered into her ear, “but first I’m going to flicker my tongue between your legs and in every orifice you have—sweep my tongue all over you—make you scream out my name.”

  “Sold,” she said. “But not here in public.”

  “That fast? Boy, that was easy.”

  “Well, what can I tell you, Alexandre Chevalier? I’m an easy lay.”

  I laughed, our lips touching “Not usually,” I murmured into her mouth. “I have to earn my time with you these days.”

  “Let’s go inside. I’ve had too much sun, anyway, for one day. I’ll just let Joy know.”

  Our house was vast, a restored British colonial with polished wood floors, beamed ceilings, wood-lined walls and multiple, large, shuttered doors. From the ocean side we could whale-watch early in the mornings over a cup of coffee, observe the great creatures dive and splash in sun-glinted waves. Or from the bedroom upstairs, listen to the morning tweet of birds, and catch the view of both the sea and Salinas—there used to be a burgeoning salt industry here once—as sensual, tropical trade winds breezed through the open windows, always keeping us cool. I remembered the year before, trudging through the snow in Central Park, desperate to reunite myself with Pearl whom I feared I’d lost—longing for fatherhood and to start a family with her, and now here we were together. Parents. Basking in the warmth of family love, with another one on the way.

  I was the luckiest man alive.

  “Lie on the bed, Pearl, I’ll continue that back massage I started.” She’d just come out of the shower, naked, her golden tan glistening wet, her blonde hair dripping over her shoulders.

  “I never say no to one of your massages.” She lay herself gently on the bed, less able every day to lie on her stomach. “Even though you know I want a whole lot more than just a rub down.”

  With her on her front, I straddled her without putting any weight on her and began to knead her shoulders gently. It was tempting to fuck Pearl straight away but I got a thrill out of making her so relaxed, so wet, that by the time we had sex she was practically in tears she was so horny. In the past week, her pregnancy hormones had her wanting me more than ever.

  “That feels wonderful,” she groaned. “Just amazing.”

  I traced the tips of my fingers along her spine and down to the crack of her smooth ass, cupping her curves, massaging her buttocks. “This is a part of the body that gets ignored so often,” I said. “It needs attention.” I explored my fingers around her little dimples in the curve of her lower back, bent down and whispered kisses all over her. “I love you, baby,” I told her, my breath hot on the nape of her neck.

  “When you say ‘baby’, do you mean me or…we still haven’t come up with a name, have we?”

  “I mean both of you,” I replied, drawing a slow circle around her dimples as I felt my cock stiffen up against my abdomen. “Don’t worry, the perfect name will come at the perfect time.”

  “I need to turn over now,” Pearl said in a bossy voice.

  “Not yet, just relax.” I trailed my hand down her back again, enticingly, as my fingers crept between her thighs. She was already soaked—I tapped her lightly there.

  “Oh God,” she moaned. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

  “Sshh, chérie, I’m going to take my sweet time.”

  “Please, Alexandre, I need you inside me.”

  “Like this,” I said, slipping my finger into her liquid heat, and sliding it out again.

  “Oh please, don’t torture me.”

  I tasted her on my finger. Delicious. I rolled her body over so she was on her back and pulled her down the bed. She loved being manhandled by me, loved it when I took control of her. I had her so she was on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over, almost touching the floor. I nudged her thighs wide apart and got down on my knees. First, I kissed her inner thighs so lightly, knowing that all she could think about was her core; but I wanted to give her lots of anticipation. Then I leisurely stroked her glistening pussy up and down with my tongue, tasting her delectable nectar, darting it every now and then at her clit, then circling it. She was writhing and meowing.

  “This is incredible. I love you, Alexandre. Oh God.”

  I always knew when Pearl was being driven wild because she brought God into her moaning pleas. It amused me. I slid my thumb inside her and continued with my tongue, pressuring it on her clit, hooking my thumb so it rested on her G-spot, moving it in a circular motion. She bucked her hips at me—she was in a blissful stupor. Keeping my thumb inside her, I moved my face away and turned my attention to one of her hard nipples and sucked. Jesus it made me horny. My dick was pounding. A low growl emanated from my throat. The feral sound made her grip my head and run her fingers passionately through my hair.

  “I’m so wet, you’re driving me crazy, Alexandre. Please fuck me.”

  “You want me to fuck you?” I teased, a smile tipping the corners of my mouth.

  “Please…oh God, please. I need you inside me.”

  I pulled her back up the bed so she was more comfortable and took in my view. My woman with her swollen stomach. My seed, which was growing daily into a special being. “You’re beautiful,” I told her. “You’ve never been more beautiful.”

  She spread her legs even wider and I licked my lips—her pussy was like a split open fig—ripe and lush, smelling of the sun. I wanted to taste it again—go down on her once more. She notice my gaze, fixed between her legs.

  She whispered, “I know what you’re thinking but I need you inside me, baby—I need your lips on my lips, your breath on mine, your chest against my breasts; I need you close so there’s no space between us.”

  Her words made me shudder. I lay over her; my weight propped up by my elbows, and dipped my broad crown into her wetness. She cried out. She flung her arms about my shoulders and gripped me with her thighs, raising her hips and hooking her ankles around my ass. I felt myself plunge into her velvet warmth and I groaned like a wild animal, thrusting, sliding deeply back and forth—our worlds united as one.

  “I. Love. Fucking. You. Pregnant,” I rasped, now tantalizing her with mini thrusts, as I rammed my crown along her clit, over and over, her erotic zones stroked and stoked by my thick cock. She slid her tongue into my mouth and sucked on my tongue, ravenous for every part of me. She couldn’t get close enough. I plunged in deeper, really fucking her now as her silk walls clamped around me.

  “You feel amazing,” I said, her kiss devouring my words. And she did. Pearl had a mélange of sweet innocence, coupled with raw sexuality; a heady cocktail that always sent me spinning. I had never been loved so much by anyone. Ever. My heart was thumping with love—waves of it crashing into her and leaving me breathless. I was weak with tenderness. But my aura was also on fire—light and heat circling our bodies like a parade of invisible angels looking on. Pearl had summoned God earlier with her cries, and a Higher Power—the Light—a Divine Flow, whatever you want to call it—was with us.

  Everywhere.

  I’m not a religious person, but if I had died in that moment I could have gone to my grave knowing, and having lived the ultimate definition of Paradise, because when Pearl and I climaxed together we lived inside one another’s bodies for an instant. It is hard to explain, but it was a gift.


  A parting gift to make what was about to shock our world, easier to bear.

  19

  The Bahamas boasts some of the best diving in the world, but of course Pearl couldn’t do that, being pregnant. She was able to snorkel, though, and was happy working from her laptop, being mom, and reading novels.

  I, however, took advantage of the incredible underwater world here. There are seven hundred different islands and cays but just forty-nine inhabited ones, so the place is replete with marine life, including dolphins, black tipped sharks, rays, and turtles, with protected, dropping reefs, deep as cliffs. It is a veritable diver’s paradise and that was one of the reasons Pearl and I came here. We both needed a break from city life and I had been longing to really explore. We hired a cook and had Joy to help look after the twins, so we were incredibly spoiled and enjoying every minute of our extended vacation.

  The early morning dive brought a plethora of underwater creatures going about their business. A Caribbean reef shark came alarmingly close to my flippers but swerved off in another direction. I saw spotted eagle rays, hawksbill turtles, an enormous grouper with its unhappy, turned-down mouth, and horse-eyed jacks in glittering silvery-blue with phosphorescent yellow-green fins, and all sorts of other brightly-colored tropical fish that I didn’t know the names of. Fish—disguising themselves as sand, fish—in glaring yellow or with orange spots. I felt bad for a Lionfish, its red and gold stripes shimmering in the rays of the sun which were penetrating the deep blue of the water, because any second now, the other diver who had accompanied me would spear or net it and it would end up on somebody’s plate. Through no fault of its own, this Lionfish was born into the wrong sea—not indigenous to these waters, its ancestors having made their way from the eastern coast of Africa to a Miami pet shop. Some blame it on the owners tossing them into the ocean when they started devouring their other fish in the tank, and others on Hurricane Andrew in 1992, smashing an aquarium tank, letting them loose. Here the creature was now, its dagger-sharp, venomous spines creating a sort of mane—an exquisitely beautiful specimen, condemned to death because it was threating the eco-system here, an invasive species, feeding on juvenile reef fish and threatening the population of scores of marine creatures.