Day 9 of 56
Oh how my mood has improved! I feel like my old self once again. My wonderful exuberant self that wants to live life and dabble in its excesses. I met a man. I could squeal with glee over meeting him. I feel like writing another novel, maybe with this man in it. Oh, I will write him now so I’ll never forget him. I have nothing to lose by going off with him either. I’ll steal away with him and let him guide me through Nice. He’s not going to be the one, he’ll just be a fling, an adventure, I know he has it in him. Let Dom be with Victoria anyways, let them pair off and leave, I’ll go wherever Constantine goes. To be something more than a tourist in this new place.
There I was, alone in a cafe. It was a little cafe with outdoor seating and I sat under an umbrella to shield myself from the hot French sun that comes with the summer. I would think that I could withstand it being from Texas, but it has a way of beating down that I suspect that only the Mediterranean sun possesses. That hot, luminescent oppression that can only come from being near the equator. I sipped on my coffee at a table with useless chairs when he approached. I caught him out of the corner of my eye, slowly walking up with a dash of bravado that I thought only European men would ever have. He didn’t have anything to drink in his hand. Then he slid the chair away from the table and sat down without asking a word, rude, but charming. And then he stared without a word into my eyes. Deep and burning dark chocolate brown they seemed to strip away the layers of my soul instantly.
What must have been seconds felt like an hour before I asked him who he was. I stared at his amazing body, rippled with kind muscles that would be soft to touch and lean on, but also have power beneath them. I longed to be wrapped in those arms and held. When I looked up I saw him smiling. It was a little crooked, but charming, it fit his face, one that seemed to have more behind it than a simple smile. I managed a meek “hi” and the crooked smile turned to a grin. I bit the inside of my lip. He asked me what I was doing in France and I said to get away. I wanted to get away, I really did. But then I said I had a boyfriend. All of a sudden I wanted to be left alone. To which he replied that I should consider adding another, I was too good to be had by just one man. It was cheesy, I never went for one liners, but it was one of those moments where I realized that I should. It was my time to abandon what others thought of me. The cackling trio of April, May, and June and their glowering on everything I did. That I should be rid of Dom and Victoria and whatever they were up to. It was my turn to have fun. So I smiled and tried to play it cool. He took out a business card and wrote an address on it. I took it from him as he said that if I was ever interested that I should stop by.
I stared at the card as he left. I didn’t realize that he never said what I should want or what I should expect. Just that I should come by. I don’t know what to do though. Part of me longs to go and see what he is, but part of me says to stay away. There was something buried deep in him, something darker, but it all held promise. Oh! I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought I did. I thought I had it in my mind, but it evaporated in an instant when I started to try and hold onto it.
Day 10 of 56
I’ve made up my mind to meet Constantine. The past 24 hours have been brutal on my mind, swaying it back and forth as to what is right and wrong. I can hear all the reasons to not do it, that it is a ridiculous idea and a dangerous one. But those same reasons are the reasons that I want to do it. I’m caught in a web of wanting and not wanting. And I was alone today. Victoria and Dom went off to the Promanade to walk along the coast. They invited me but I didn’t want to go. They’re so close already. I spend time in Dom’s room talking to him, chatting about old things. The kinds of things that hold no substance, but bind friends together. Then we talked about my writing a new novel.
I brought it up. I wanted to tell him about Constantine, but I knew he would disapprove. So I told him that I wanted to write again. It had been ages since I ever felt the impulse. I could even feel it in my writing itself when writing this journal. Looking back I was so doom and gloom. I hardly recognized myself. I can’t tell what was wrong with me. But now, now I feel it again. That rush and that ecstatic thrill all from just meeting one man. Dom said I should write about Nice. Duh. Of course I’m going to write about Nice. Then he told me I should get out more. What an ignorant thing to say. I’ve been sick and holed up, and the one time he took me out he left me to shack up with a man stealer.
Then of course she knocked. She just let herself in like she owned the place. She kissed Dom hello while he still laid down on the bed and crawled to the far corner and tucked her feet under her. She looked catlike in repose. Just sitting there, silently, I wanted to hurl something at her for no reason other than to get a rise out of her. She’s so, powerful, grace-like even. She doesn’t manipulate Dom, he just follows her magnetism wherever she goes in the conversation. I watched the two interact for some time in wretched disgust waiting to be acknowledged. This and that were talked about to no end as she directed the conversation to what was going to happen that day. I was going to interject and demand to be acknowledged, but then she asked if I would join them at the Opera de Nice. They weren’t actually going to an opera, just seeing the building.
They would just hang off of one another as she talked about the landmarks. Dom would follow her lead as she took him here and there and offered advice about every little thing in Nice. He would never turn her down. I said no. I didn’t want to be third wheel to their couple. She tried to make some casual chit chat about what I would like to do. I said nothing. She could have Dom for that.
Instead I left. Maybe they were just having harmless chit chat. Maybe they were just being a couple, but I don’t want anything to do with it. I went on a walk to escape. Ancient buildings and cobble stone streets led the way. Soon I was deep in the heart of the city not knowing exactly the way back but gladly lost. It was then that I pulled Constantine’s card out of my pocket. I was only a block or two away from it. So I walked. It was an apartment and a jewelry store. Specifically an apartment. I stood outside of it for minutes, maybe hours, just wondering what to do next and paralyzed by anticipation where my heart pounded and my breathing fell short. I gulped who knows how many times. I took a step forward. I knew I should do it. But I couldn’t bring myself to really take another step. I thought of going into the jewelry store, maybe finding him there, or maybe meeting an owner who could tell me about him. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to find out for myself.
I quit the scene and headed back here, home base. I knew it inside of me though. Whoever Constantine is, I had to know him first hand. I didn’t want anyone hovering around me, telling me it was okay, or that he was a nice guy, I wanted to find out who could be so bold for myself.
Day 12 of 56
I went there last night. I went to Constantine’s place. He lives in the flat above the Jeweler’s like I suspected. It’s a cozy two bedroom apartment, complete with all the usual antiquated nuances. I could die in that apartment. The old sink with exposed piping, claw foot bathtub with a shower added on as an afterthought, but the space itself. His bedroom is the first room I walked into. It was a masculine room with wrought iron bed frame extending up to nearly the ceiling and no headboard. Large eye hooks were in the corners. Through his bedroom I found the second bedroom and it was filled with various gadgets and security cameras. It’s his job, security. It’s how he got the place above the jeweler’s, he worked for them. And where the other bedroom would be I found his weight room. Nothing fancy was in it. He isn’t one of those gym rats that uses every machine to tone various muscles in their body to make their obliques pop so that they look like models. Just large free weights to tone his body as he goes. I imagined him shirtless lifting the dumbbells and felt a little weak. His kitchen was exquisite. Small, cozy, like the rest of his apartment, but immaculately maintained. Pots and pans still sat in the sink from his cooking, but the stove was spotless.
He caught me looking around as I naturally toured his apartment. When I turned in the kitchen he was right there beside me. I was glad I wore my blue shift dress. It was easy, but it came in at the waist so I had better curves than normal. I spied him staring at me. He smiled and I fell for it. He asked me what I wanted to do, where I would like to go. But I didn’t want to go anywhere else. His home was where I wanted to be. So I stared up into those chocolate eyes and knew what came next. I kissed him. I had never made the first move up until that point, but it came naturally and effortlessly. His chest was soft and he wrapped his arms around me fitting like a glove. When our lips parted I told him I wanted him to cook for me.
He set to work scouring the pans and preparing. I watched from a distance at first, but moved closer as I caught him preparing. His skills with a knife were better than even Dom’s. Onions were diced in a second and then came garlic and some seasoning as they were all thrown in a pan with an inordinate amount of butter. He sautéd them with some rice and some wine and slowly the risotto came together. In the other pan he seared two steaks and slid them into the oven. It all had the speed of a chef and a deliberateness behind it. But he never forgot me. Along the way he would explain what he was doing and why and what the wine did to the rice. He knew every step by heart and in the lulls he would give me a peck on the cheek.
The dark man seemed to evaporate into the cozy atmosphere choreographed around living comfortably. But I chewed my lip and knew I wanted him more because of it. Watching him cook for me, having him do what I wanted, I felt a small rush of power. If it was Him, he would have me cooking, going through the chore and the motion while he watched TV. But now, now it was all different.
We ate together in the kitchen on this small table at the far side with windows. There was a small courtyard in the back that was shared with several other buildings and was filled with greenery unkempt without a gardener so it grew beyond proportion, but still with grace. I asked questions about what he did and he described how he enjoyed his work solving problems and how it never kept him bored. But then it turned to the cultural. He lavished me with what he had seen around the city, the effervescent quality of Nice that he found nowhere else in France. It wasn’t a coastal city like Marseille, filled with beaches and tourists. Nice was filled with history and culture that marked the passage of time.
It was my turn to talk about myself. I told him the basics. That I wrote romance novels. He chuckled and I nearly slapped the grin off his face. I was published 8 times, regardless of what I wrote. I wrote for an audience, an audience that knew what it wanted and I gave it to them. My practice is unique in that respect, it satisfies desires and provides escape when other books attempt to indulge in experiments in form at the expense of the reader. But then that I lost it. I lost it because of a man who treated me as second rate because a new model came along. And that it took me nearly two years to stand up and say that it was enough.
We finished eating around that time and the conversation had a lull. He cleared the plates. I didn’t want to feel powerless again. I didn’t want to feel out of control. So I stepped into his bedroom and dropped my dress and then my panties. I called him into the bedroom and I felt it, I felt control over him. It was how I felt back in the club when I put on the corset and stockings. Men were in my control. I could see it in his eyes. The lust.
It didn’t take him two strides to get to my body and grasp it in his hands. They were strong, merciless, I wanted them. With a violent gesture he threw me to the bed. I squealed. His strength was beyond impressive. I tried sitting up on my elbows, but he pushed me down with the force of angels. From down on the bed I saw him shed his clothes. Deep scars ran across his chest, criss crossing over his pecs and a few more appeared on his bulging arms. My womanly entrancement from before dissolved in looking at the warrior undressing before me. He was what I was waiting for. Not a man that I could possess, but a man that could possess me. Naked, he crawled on top of me and slid his manhood in. My vagina ached as it stretched to fit and I gasped. He was strong, but tender in his approach. He gave time for me to settle around him, to feel my muscles contract and pull him in deeper. With a little more of a push I felt myself swell. The size was almost painful, but the pain added more to the rush. He moved slowly at first. In and out with care and tenderness. Each thrust relaxing and then tensing my entire body. I gripped the sheets and let out a silent scream. He smiled and moved faster. My body burned from the churning swell. His scars were within inches of me and I scraped my fingernails down them. How he got them faded from my mind as I came again. His hands running over my breasts and lightly squeezing my nipples sending electrify shocks through my chest while he pushed deeper and deeper into me in a seemingly endlessly long thrust.
I was spent. But he kept going. I moaned and wriggled beneath him, but he caught me eye. Doe eyed I stared at him, dark and unquestioning, he gripped my throat with one hand and pushed harder and deeper than before. Oxygen to my brain started to wain as I grew light headed and unable to think except for the repetitions between my legs. Over and over and suddenly a crescendo bursting through my mind as my body arched to pull him in deeper than before. Inside I felt the warmth left behind while he lingered inside of me. My body ached though it had only lasted mere minutes.
He collapsed next to me, running his hand up my stomach onto my breast where he lingered and lightly squeezed. I laid there not knowing what happened to me. The rush of being choked. The power of it – of being in his control completely. I ran my hands where his thumb cut off circulation. It hurt slightly, but I wanted more. He saw what I was doing and slid his fingers down to between my legs. There he played for a while and then slid a finger in. Then two. His fingernails scraped slightly as he ran his fingers to the front wall of my vagina. The rough patch that held everything for me. Within second he had me coming again, and then again, over and over while his fingers worked magic between my thighs and I could barely move afterwards. I was spent.
I turned to run my hands over his chest and found a groove where a scar had carved his muscles. I asked him about it. He grinned and said that it was from a fight. But when I asked for more details he just ignored it. Through all our pillow talk darkness surrounded his words. There was something more to this man than just a chef cooking for me or a man that I thought I could control. Control. It made me feel powerful. Like seeing Victoria stand naked before me. And this man had that control. I felt it changing me.
Day 13 of 56
Here I am on a sailboat laying naked on the Mediterranean sea with a half naked man piloting it. Dom and Victoria are off sight seeing somewhere, but Constantine invited me out to his sailboat. The azure waters are refreshing like none other and the glorious sun beating down fills me with glee. Constantine is off adjusting the sails so that we can go further out and I decided to get a little writing done.
I am naked.
I never thought I would be out here like this. I was originally in my bikini, soaking up some needed sun and watching my stud sail. And then our course was set and the sails went down. I was oblivious. Eyes closed beneath sunglasses sailing in open waters without a care. And then I felt his breath between my thighs. I giggled and writhed a bit, but then my bottom slid off. Deep inside of me I wanted to ask him what he was doing. But I knew. I thought back to when I tempted him and I knew what I was getting. His tongue started flicking and caressing me. My thighs were moist and I wrapped them around his head, pulling him in deeper to continue. After I came once I slid out of my top and he massaged my breasts. I longed for him to grip my throat again. With him down there I held all the power but I wanted to lose it once I gained it. He must have been down there for hours as my thighs started to weaken and I could barely breath. I ached for him to penetrate me. But he did not. He stood before me when he was done, me lying naked on the deck and him shirtless standing in the breeze. He was daring me to do something, anything. But I resisted. I kept the power.
I could tell that he liked it too.
Now I’m laying out here, in the sun, without a care. Nice is in the far backdrop of our excursion and I lay satisfied.
Day 14 of 56
I’ve discovered where Constantine received his scars. Prison. He’s not a convict though, not like that, but he breaks into places. Not to steal either, he doesn’t ever touch a thing, just visits places. He’s a voyeur of locations according to him. And that landed him in prison. He took me on a trip.
It was late at night, no one was around, and he brought me to the courtyard of the Opera de Nice. From the outside I fell in love with the place. The gorgeous architecture would have sent Dom over the wall, but I felt the soul of the place. It longed to be used, and loved. The quiet stone construction spoke more about the finesse of the building than the massiveness of the construction. I loved it. I longed for it. And Constantine gave it to me.
Nobody was around.
He came prepared with his pick set and some electrical devices. With a shifted glance around him he set to work on the front door. In seconds it came open and he hurriedly shuffled me inside. Rushing with his kit to the side where the electronic alarm is he began working on it with the rest of his tools. I could have looked at the building around us, but I was turned on by watching him work. The same deliberateness that he displayed for me in cooking was also here in breaking in. No touching, no stealing, no damage, that was his creed. Only looking. Being the only people inside. That was what he was giving me. Seconds ticked by as I started to worry about what would happen next. Would he be able to do it or would he fail and we would be caught. We could get caught. The thought exhilarated me. The old Molly would have been terrified of that prospect. The old Molly would have never stood naked to seduce this man. The old Molly would never have taken this risk. But now, now I’m in control.
The pick was done and we had about half an hour before the bypass no longer worked.
The Opera was enormous. Velvet drapes covered everything with their loving warmth. At first we raced around the aisles like children playing tag, but that settled into absorbing the majesty of the Opera around us. I climbed on stage to play the part and looked out onto the empty seats. It must feel frightening, but strengthening to be in such a commanding position. And there, in the middle, I spied the seats I wanted to be in. I wanted to sit where princesses sat to watch the stage. We still had time and Constantine took my hand to race me there. Several chairs sat facing the stage including two large ones for special guests. I sat in one and Constantine in the other. My heart pounded with the excitement. I could feel it pounding through my legs. So I slid over to the railing with Constantine watching my every move. One button. Two buttons. Pop. Pop. Pop. My blouse was open without a bra underneath. It was easy. In a second he was with me, sliding my skirt up and his pants down. I came on him entering me in such a magnificent location. On and on we went, the clock ticking by before security or police showed up. Each time I came I knew it was a bigger and bigger risk and I came all the harder. And then he was finished. We hurried out and down to the front gates. Security was wandering around looking for what happened. I laughed. Constantine grabbed me by the arm and we shot for a side exit.
The alarm erupted and we ran for our lives down the street.
It was the strangest mixture I had ever felt. A feeling of power, one of absolute authority over what I would do next, and abandonment into powerlessness of what might happen if things went wrong. The play, the power play, it’s exhilarating.
Day 15 of 56
I stayed with Constantine last night. I thought for a moment that he would be frightened of what I did. That I almost got him caught. But he liked it, he loved it. He said that he liked how free I am.
I am free. How glorious it is to feel free too.
I learned more about him too, now that he feels safe with me. He used to be an artist. A metal smith actually. He would produce jewelry and other trinkets for people on demand and also commercially. But he also like replicating things. Once he cast a gun, made it essentially a working copy though he said he’d never want to try it. Then a pair of handcuffs. Then a pick set. He carved each piece out of wax and then cast it. When it was done, he wanted to see if they worked like the originals. First it was his front door, then his back, then a couple of locks here and there. Soon, he was fast at it. And he started to break into places. He just wanted a look, to see what places were like without all the people.
It was then that he was caught. In prison he was nearly killed and was scared for life by someone wielding a shank. But he’s a good boy. I guess. I’m not so sure about that. But they released him on good behavior and he started his security company.
I asked if I could see some of his work, he said it was all downstairs in the jewelers.
He was wistful and distant when talking about what he had done, like he missed it, like something had come back the other night. I asked him if he had done that in a while and he said no. I told him I liked it. I liked the powerfulness of it and the powerlessness of it. He said that he didn’t want to risk another B&E. It was too close, and I was too tempting. And then he smiled, there was another way for me to feel like that.