The Labyrinth of Passion (romantic experiences)

by Charles Westmont

  “I sincerely hope that you will not attribute to us a faith similar to that of the former President. Our relationship is barely a few hours old and I do not think that it has the foundation to support stormy weather at this juncture,” Etienne was humouring her, however deep inside, he could not repress a growing restlessness.

  The fortune teller became very intense. Her eyes were covered with an enigmatic glow and they adopted a fixation that bore deeply into Justine and Etienne. Etienne could feel from her scrutiny, the intensity of a noon sunray. The gypsy began to speak in a deep voice, unusual for a woman of that age.

  “Your auras have overtaken me and have driven me to sit at your table. You each have a very special aura, and in this you are very different from other people. In the course of the few minutes that I sat at your table, I have witnessed your individual auras progressing rapidly, on the way to blend with each other’s into one. The message of pure energy that you are sending to me is unequivocal:

  “You are one, you were always one and you will always be one”.

  As my last word, I must warn you to beware of envy. While your gift is eternal, your bond, as it has in the past, will be disrupted, the victim of gods’ and men’s envy. You will be separated again. Neither gods nor men can accept that you have in your possession, what they cannot possess themselves. But remember that the flame that is beginning to rekindle your hearts and souls into one can never be extinguished and for this reason, your love will subside, whether you are together or separated by the evil doing of others. As far apart as you may find yourselves, your eternal love will remain the powerful magnet that will bring you back together for all times.”

  The gypsy stood and Etienne rose to assist her and offered a few dollars. She brushed the gift away with one hand and extending the other hand toward Justine, she asked, “Please give me the gold token.” Justine was stunned at first, but she found herself retrieving from her pocket the token that Etienne had taken from the wedding procession and placed it in the old lady’s hand. The gypsy placed the token between her teeth, turned around and left. Justine and Etienne were staring at each other without a word for a while, equally astonished by the turn of events.

  Etienne excused himself to go to the men’s room. He asked jokingly, in an attempt to reduce the tension of the last few minutes, “Do you think that she tells that same story to all her clients. At the price she charges, she will neither get fat nor rich.” Walking to the bathroom Etienne felt quite perturbed. Something deep within his soul was repeating the gypsy’s words over and over and he could not escape the thought that they were not just words.

  Justine was attempting to catch her breath. She was often affected by shortness of breath, when her emotions were competing with great intensity. The words of the gypsy were surfacing glimpses of her recurring dream. While she could not quite piece the memories together, she was overcome by a strange feeling disturbing her soul.

  She was pulled from her thoughts by a gentleman standing over the table in front of her. “I must apologise for my lack of manners, but I could not resist honoring your charms and beauty and I would like to invite you for a drink, after your father retires to his room.” With no hesitation, she expedited the insolent on his way. Returning to the table, Etienne found her laughing so much, that tears were flowing from her eyes. “You will not believe this,” she began saying, choking, she could not stop giggling. She was pointing to the gentleman sitting at a table not too far from theirs, when she described his assault.

  Etienne was laughing with her. “I wonder if he is not right. By the way how old are you?”

  She stopped her giggling and casually answered, “twenty-four.” Etienne stood and pretending that he was on his way, he covered her hand with a soft kiss and said with all the seriousness that he could gather. “Sleep well miss, I will meet you for breakfast tomorrow at the coffee shop.”

  Justine stood and her look was explicit, she would not let him escape so easily. She grabbed his arm. “I have enough of this place, let us skip the rest of the show, it is eleven o’clock and Jackie “O” is opening.”

  A world-renowned club in the typical La Dolce Vita tradition, Jackie “O” is very popular among those who categorize themselves ‘on trend’. The place is filled with young, designer clothes-clad socialites, who come to have fun. The music, compared to other clubs, could be better, but it is not bad either. Drinks are a little pricey. At a place like this, such prices are expected anyway. When visiting Rome, Etienne would, on occasion, cap an evening at Jackie “O”, on Via Veneto.

  Etienne was sitting on a small bench near the dance floor. He just could not get enough of Justine swaying to the rhythm of the disco music. It had been an hour since they had walked into the discothèque. “Jackie “O”, like all discos, was blasting the music at a level where conversation was impossible. Discotheques, a popular entertainment formula, had developed rapidly in the Sixties. It demanded limited verbal skill, substituting body language, the ultimate instrument, in the art of seduction. Etienne had joined Justine for the first dances, but the lack of body contact was so foreign to his expectation, that he had withdrawn to the current point of observation, on the excuse of his limited dancing proficiency. He kept following Justine’s every movement and conceded privately that in the end, his excuse was no excuse at all. Justine was totally invaded by the music and by her dancing. Her long body was flowing with every beat. “She was so right to suggest an escape from the show,” he thought.

  Strangely Etienne’s passion was growing and somehow his desire was leading him in a state beyond pure lust. He astonished himself with the unusual altruism and generosity of his feelings. He recognized in himself the perfect manipulator, with an overdose when it came to women. Manipulation was for Etienne, an answer to the lack of ease that he was feeling toward the opposite sex. The feeling had never left him from his early teenage years. Tonight the results went beyond expectation. For some imperceptible reason, he felt that his domination was welcome and that somehow he would be perfectly comfortable with being dominated in return. Justine kept gliding in a world of her own, when she felt Etienne’s soft touch on her arms. Etienne’s fingers had touched her shoulders and his body began surfing the waves of her movements.

  “I feel a little tired. I am recuperating from a recent surgery. I wonder if you would excuse me, but I would like to leave.” Etienne took her hand and led Justine outside of the discothèque. “I will take you home. Let us flag a taxi.”

  “It is not necessary,” answered Justine, “I live within five hundred meters of the hotel.”

  “Let me walk you home, then,” Etienne insisted. They walked towards Garden City holding hands and chatting joyfully like friends of old.

  “You must leave me here. I live around the corner. Please give me your business card.”

  After she left, Etienne stood for a moment lighting a cigarette. He was tempted to run after her, when a young policeman came to him pointing at his cigarette. Etienne offered one to him, which the policeman took gratefully. When he turned to follow Justine, she had disappeared. Waving to the policeman, Etienne made his way back to the hotel.

  Etienne undressed and prepared his suitcase. He placed a request for a wakeup call, providing enough time to reach the Heliopolis airport in the Cairo morning traffic. He slipped under the blanket and fell asleep remembering the day’s events.

  The return of passion

  Etienne was awakened from a deep sleep. It took him a few seconds to recognise where he was and that the phone was ringing. He picked up the handset and the phone went dead. He began to wonder who could be calling. A look at his wristwatch confirmed 8 o’clock in Brisbane. “It has to be the office.” He began to dial the long distance operator, when the phone rang again. “I was afraid that I called the wrong room. Please come and meet me at the elevator, I will explain.” Justine’s voice was charged with tension. Overcoming his surprise and finally coming to his senses, he found himself choking with emotions. He
jumped out of bed, slipped on a nightgown, opened the door and ran to the elevator.

  He saw Justine struggling to escape the grip of a large man, who released his hold, when he saw Etienne approaching the elevator. Etienne placed his foot to hold the closing doors and gave the man a look that left nothing equivocal about his intention to get rid of the aggressor’s annoying presence. Justine flew into his open arms.

  They walked to the suite babbling, as if they had never left each other. Etienne felt overwhelmed by his emotions. He was watching her swaying walk. Her body appeared incandescent with enticing movements. She turned and asked for the bathroom. She disappeared behind the door. Etienne’s throat was swelling with emotion. He let himself fall on the bed trying to regain his composure. He could not overcome his astonishment that such a wonder of nature was actually in his bathroom. In seconds, all the mistresses of his life were parading in front of his eyes, but he had never, in all his forty five years, felt so helpless and crushed by lust and erotic emotions. He felt both helpless and powerful. Strangely, despite having met her only a few hours earlier, he needed her to remain close by, he needed her inside himself.

  She came out of the bathroom, as if she had done it every night and will keep doing it forever. She was wearing the ‘Her’ bathrobe and casually slipped into bed.

  For a long moment, they remained still and silent side by side, she, swallowing the nerve of pushing that far, what she thought had to be a fantasy, he overwhelmed by her unexpected presence. He gathered the emotional strength to bring his lips to her shoulder. The golden complexion was calling for his attention. He felt her intensity vibrating gently on his lips, endorsing his pursuit. He let his lips slip the very lower part of her neck. They refuelled with the courage to rise to her earlobe, then stopping, guilty of such uncontrolled intrusion. A welcoming sigh invited his pursuit, when he neared the border of her hairline. And she smelled so good, a smell that only a goddess can exude. Her odour alone was victimizing, capturing him in feelings that he did not want to escape. His lips lowered slowly to her eyes. He reasoned from the impulse of swallowing these eyes that he could not even see, slowly dropping along her nose to the rim of her upper lip. That very moment lasted longer than the five millennium that had passed for Etienne to recover these god-blessed lips that he unknowingly had been seeking through the ages, and that were now offered, welcoming his invasion.

  They sucked, licked smothered each other’s lips again and again timelessly, drinking each other, their tongues dancing, in recognition of past bliss that had never ended. After a long time, he could no more resist an invitation to let his lips slide down her neck, coming in between her breasts, teasing around and around the hardening mounds. Then, without warning, he took a bite of a rock hard nipple. The other nipple soared with envy and Etienne began pressing both breasts together forcing the two nipples in his mouth.

  Only after such intense attention for these two orphan nipples, did Etienne’s lips start gliding very slowly downward to an inviting belly button. The palpitations below signaled a pussy insisting on attention. Etienne’s nose jumped over a fresh scar and landed inside her mound of Venus. It could have taken days, it could have taken months, it could have taken years, it could have taken millenniums and it could have taken the full wrath of Horus, but never would Etienne forget such feelings of bliss.

  They went on making passionate love. For long moments Justine would enjoy rubbing her vagina over Etienne’s pleasant but not excessive weapon, in a gentle trot. She would halt only to move her body to press against his, to seek his lips as if she was afraid to miss a kiss that would escape and that would not return to her. She would withdraw conditionally moving her breasts to capture his penis in stranglehold. She would release the throbbing organ to capture it with her open lips, swallowing it whole, than releasing it again, when her tongue licked from his anus to his prepuce with repeated assaults, only to stop briefly for a gentle bite of his testicles. It had been hours of invasion without interruption, when she crumpled over him, only to awaken moments later, to continue her assaults on that very special night of the return of the Gods. Isis and Osiris could finally resume their long awaited lovemaking, their sensuality being the catalyst, in the fusion of the Gods’ quintessential souls into one.

  Justine and Etienne were experiencing renewed fusion of body, mind and emotions. They were reliving this exclusive and unique experience, when the self becomes the other, when the blissful pleasure is giving to receive without expectation. They were making love by their souls touching. Their insides were invaded by hundreds of butterflies competing for attention and their senses were captured with the full intensity of fireworks. This love fusion would never leave them as long as they remain together. They had engaged on the path where their life would become an adventure to explore the fertile terrain of each other’s bodies and souls, constantly seeking new avenues to stimulate the other.

  “Is it really morning?” he thought. The sunray was shining through an opening in the drapes, warming his face. His body felt so good on the mattress, that he was resisting reopening his eyes, absorbing this occasional and unique morning caress of his blood flowing in his veins from his toes to his head. He jumped up, “I have a plane to catch!” Turning to the night table, he grabbed his watch. “Good! Another couple of hours before the limo appears.” He felt movement on his side, while he was refocusing on the mound hidden under the bed sheet. For one instant, he closed his eyes to relive the night’s events, savouring anew every moment of pleasure that he hoped would never end.

  He pulled the sheet away gently stopping a moment to capture in his mind the most angelic face he had ever seen, wrapped in long, blonde messy curls. He resumed lowering the bed sheet exposing the golden complexion of pure erotic desire. He was swallowing with difficulty, his eyes moving from her firm breasts calling for his lips down to her long thighs which were slightly apart. Holding his breath, he let his head slide gently between the opened lips of her love mound, breathing in the fragrance of honey and nectar. He felt two hands arriving from behind pressing on his head and rubbing his face on the inner haven that was commanding more and more attention. Etienne was feeling such bliss that he was prepared to surrender his last breath to drown inside her. He felt her throbbing with increasing intensity, when, with a catlike moan, she released her grip, her body jolting with pleasure. He took in a deep load of oxygen to recover a more normal heartbeat, knowing she would be around for more.

  He did not wait long, when Justine turned her feline body over his, to assault his face with kisses, eagerly licking every pore. She then parted his lips and began to explore inside, intertwined with his tongue. He felt a quiver over his erect penis and a warm pussy sliding over it. Then without releasing his tongue, he felt a second mouth capture his organ, followed by a gentle sway. Justine’s lower body went from a slow languorous pace to accelerate to a light trot. She pulled herself erect and engaged in a furious gallop that in too little time locked their bodies in a lengthy climax.

  After a long pause, Etienne came back to his senses. He was troubled by the necessity of his fast-coming departure. He kissed Justine with renewed passion and let himself slip from her, to prepare for his trip.

  On his way to Rome, he felt he had never left his newfound Cairo treasure. He was astounded that they did not exchanged words for hours, after she came to his bed, yet their souls never halted their communications. “Thank goodness, I gave her my business card and took note of her address and telephone number in Dordogne,” he thought.

  She had invaded everything about him, his mind, his body, and his feelings. “No Miss there is nothing wrong,” Etienne had difficulty hiding his embarrassment. The stewardess had approached him wondering if he was hyperventilating, when he was attempting to recapture every smell of the night frenzy that sadly seemed to vanish. “Could you lend me a pen and a piece of paper? I would like to write a note. Not to worry, it won’t be my last will and testament,” he addressed her with an innocent smile a
s he regained his composure.

  The words flew easily. He felt the encounter had brought him to the frontier of obsession. He could not erase the powerful feeling of dependency that he was experiencing for the first time in his life. Throughout his adult life, he would pride himself that sexual experiences with the other sex were always shared with a strong feeling of love for his partner. Lovemaking for Etienne was a giving experience fully satisfying in itself, with or without attaining sexual release. When a women would give him her body, he felt an irresistible impulse to give back all of himself, to bring her pleasure, if only for a brief moment. But after a few hours of his departure, he felt deeply within his soul that his life had shifted to such an extent, that the foundation of his earlier years and his most cherished values had regained a new meaning. He would not want to look at the world again, without sharing his experiences with these blue eyes as profound as the ocean. He would let himself be pulled in a spiral of love and bliss. “Te quiero mucho Justina, mon toutou du Périgord!" he wrote to her.

  Chapter 8 - Paris

  A strange premonition

  In the course of many weeks of travel to visit project sites, Etienne’s mind was in a constant bout, unable to resist thinking of Justine. “This is only a fling, like all the others,” he kept trying to fool himself day and night, feeling that his mind was faltering under the relentless assaults of his emotions.

  The fall was recalling Etienne to Paris to tend to business. While he planned for his departure, he could not chase from his mind the thought of her. “What a great moment it would be just to see her again.”

  Feeling his heart jump up in his throat, he dialed the Bergerac number. The unique pleasure of hearing her voice answering his call helped him regain his composure. She would tell him later, that she was sitting with her mother at the poolside. At the first ring, she turned to her mother. “I think this is my new friend that I met in Cairo,” she ran to answer. Such premonitions, involving each other, became regular experiences that the lovers would share often through the years. Tears of joy ran down his cheeks when she confirmed that she would be on her way to meet him.