A Loveless Marriage

Chapter 9: Fred

Women are frustrating creatures, I thought as I hurried out of the hotel, and Mary was one of the worst I had ever encountered. It was not that I wasn't enjoying her company, indeed I had discovered to my surprise that she was a rather pleasant companion, it was just the moment I thought I had her pegged, she took a completely different path to what I had expected. Our kiss had shaken me not because she pushed me away, truth be told I had expected rejection, but because she had kissed me back with such ardour before making me stop.

My angry words to her had been out of confusion at her actions, not malice, and when the womanly tears had fallen, I felt guilty. Never before had a woman's tears caused me so much regret, because for the first time I felt truly responsible. It had been my choice to take her as my wife, I could have fulfilled the obligations of my inheritance, settled money on her and left her to her own life but I decided not to take that course. Pride held me back, I didn't want the world to know about the hoops my uncle had made me jump to claim an inheritance that was rightfully mine. From beyond the grave, Uncle George still had his bony fingers clasped on my life and I was not going to let anyone else control the narrative of my own marriage.

Purposefully, I strode down to La Chabanais before my shame caught up with me. Inside it glittered with candles and mirrors, full of attractive women who were warm and willing, unlike my wife. Stepping into La Chabanais was like walking into a dream, from the false grotto of the entrance to the heady exoticism of the rooms. It was more like a palace than a Maison Closes and if the rumours were true, it had been the favourite playground of our late King. My eyes swept across the room, taking in the beauties of the room. Giselle's red hair glowed brighter than any shade known to nature and I recognised her bright, seductive eyes at once. That day, familiarity seemed to be the best option.

"Freddie," she said with a sigh as we entered the Pompeii room. "I have not seen you since the great flood. I missed you."

"Little liar," I said grinning and kissing her neck as she disrobed.

This was a place a man could be comfortable, a place where pleasure was worshipped not frowned upon. The women got satisfaction in their work too, when they could, and I was a man who liked to give as much as he took. Women like my wife miserably denied themselves the joy of intimacy, never giving themselves over to the carnal spirit like Giselle and they were unhappier for it. Even in the warm opulence of the Pompeii room, I could feel the chill of Mary's disapproval on my back. As I caught the sight in the mirror of my naked body on Giselle's, I imagined the cold look of disgust that would be on Mary's face if she saw such a scene. Disgust at my selfishness, my lack of self-control.

"What is wrong?" Giselle asked confused. "Where have you gone?"

Rolling off her, I sat up and looked down at myself in disbelief. Mary had buried her disapproval so deeply in my mind that I could not even escape her in a bordello. There was a sympathetic smirk on the face of the putain that sickened me, I knew she would be laughing at me later. Shame mixed with rage, I had not paid for this humiliation and there was only one possible cause.

"It's that damn row with Mary," I said through gritted teeth.

"Who is this Marie who is causing you such a heartache?"

Giselle spoke in a soothing tone as she rested her sharp chin on my shoulder. No doubt she had dealt with this problem before in shaking septuagenarians but surely not virile men who were not yet thirty.

"She's none of your business, that's who," I said. "Hold your tongue, I am not paying you to talk.

Hair bright as apricot flesh fanned out beneath her as she reclined on the bed. She gazed up at herself in the mirror, admiring her own succulent curves as she traced a finger from her navel to her breast.