nudity and sex
"When do you think we could return to France?" Catherine asked me one afternoon, immediately after having praised the nice, new shirt I was wearing -- that I had naturally borrowed from Armand. I was happy that she had spoken in the plural, including me in her plans... Or maybe she was just talking about herself and the baby... two, rather than three?
I explained to her that I -- we -- needed to wait for Armand.
She inquired further. "Will you undo your partnership with him?" and she then wanted to know about other details of our 'business'. "Will you be reimbursed for your part on this island? Or will you have to pay a fine?" Catherine seemed very concerned with money and social status, and I was ashamed to tell her about my real situation, afraid that she might simply leave.
I was embarrassed at deceiving her, wondering at which point my lies would fall apart; still, I said something vague and generic about the hypothetical partnership, so as not to have to tell her more lies.
In a moment when we were both calm, sitting by the fire pit by the beach and listening to the various, mysterious and undistinguished night sounds sprawled around us, I requested discretion from Catherine upon Armand's return.
"I thought you were closer friends..." She was surprised, but also appeased with my request to keep the pregnancy a secret. "Nor would I want... a stranger... to know about it."
But I did not dare to anticipate that we would have to vacate Armand's room when he arrived. We were cuddling and softly kissing, our sexuality perhaps subdued by the baby among us -- and that gentler, subtler connection felt too adorable to risk interrupting by annoying Catherine.
And so, we expected my friend's -- I still liked to think of him that way -- return each day, he who would decide our lives -- although Catherine, I thought, was unaware about how much we depended on Armand. Crazily, in the known that I would deeply hurt him, I still expected him to be good and generous to me.
Once more, Catherine and I were close to one another, as if enjoying the last days of that tropical paradise reserved only for us. I could see that she was still upset about the whole situation, and looked concerned and confused every time she thought about her return to France and to the Université. But with a shrug, she seemed to get rid of her worries and fears, deciding to take advantage of our idyll that was bound to end.
We had some happy days, eating and drinking and talking at length and even dancing, though Catherine was often nauseated, caused now by her pregnancy instead of food poisoning. I tended to her with joy, and even more dedication, because I was caring for a health condition and not a disease. For the health of two beings, instead of just one.
We lived in total freedom and our intimacy became greater since it turned to be not only physical but also emotional, now that our fates seemed to have a future in common. We started hanging around naked, like I never had done before, not even on my own.
"This is not so bad, after all." She commented, about feeling so far away from Paris and detached from her previous life style. "I guess not many people have had the privilege to play Adam and Eve in a private paradise like this..." She giggled. But her cheerfulness and good mood would only last until she again nauseated. Then she was cursing, though I had asked her not to, fearing the baby would be affected by her anger -- or even that she would thus be attracting a tormented soul upon our son. Sometimes I wondered if the apparition was just the boy's physical appearance, while his soul was still being formed by our current actions.
And despite my concerns, we resumed our love making.
"Doesn't it affect... harm the baby?" I asked rather innocently, before penetrating her.
"Harm?" she was intrigued, as she guided me inside herself.
"I don't know... Penetrating you... Am I not.. poking the baby?" In fact, I was afraid that our sexual activity could cause an abortion, a possibility with which Catherine was still counting, it seemed. And I shivered in horror, at the thought that I'd be assisting in some sinister plan to get rid of the baby. She aroused my desire and I naively helped her to... No, killing my own son was inconceivable to me!
Catherine laughed so hard at it, and I was embarrassed.
"Darling, you don't know anything about anatomy, do you? Your dick is big and thick, but not so much that it penetrate my uterus... Hihi!" She laughed again, before commanding me. "Harder, harder now!" With a series of shivers, I watched Catherine's orgasms before achieving my own, and just then did I dutifully release more of my redundant seed into her.
Catherine took advantage of my doubts and fears to start topping me -- as she would do for the rest of our lives as a couple, taking control of me with the convenient excuse that my weight could harm the baby.
I sensed the enormous pleasure she unequivocally felt at being in control during sex -- and I never tried to take that control back. Although, in fact, over time I realized that this was exactly my own power -- not only giving her great sexual pleasure, but also giving her the pleasure of having control.
And I could see that, if at some moment Catherine seemed passionate and surrendered to me -- even if actually I was to surrender myself to her, to her commands that over time became silent, with no need for words, so that I knew exactly how to please her -- that moment was when we were having sex.
For it was just sex, always.
I had my romantic fantasies, my longing for love, perhaps because I was an orphan and had received none -- except Armand's love, that I had experienced only partially. And now I wanted to get the whole thing from Catherine -- who, however, was unable to give it to me. Having herself received so little from her family, as I would later discover, she had none to give -- not to me, at least.