Authors: Michel Farnac
Cathy
(as
she
was
still
known)
was
bold
in
her
conversations
with
Michel
because
she
wanted
to
arouse
him
at
her
command
and
had
been
persuaded
that
men
reacted
strongly
to
such
imagery.
Michel
was
her
first
chance
at
expounding
in
her
own
terms
her
newfound
sexual
identity.
She
needed
to
seduce
him
as
an
affirmation
of
the
reality
of
this
new
chapter
in
her
life.
The
fleeting
thought
may
even
have
crossed
her
mind
of
seducing
this
Michel
person
and
dumping
him
presto
as
a
way
to
get
back
at
Alexander…
or
to
get
Alexander
back.
Alexander
had
called
it
quits
a
couple
of
times
already,
dumping
her
unceremoniously
with
hurtful
monologues
in
voice-‐mails
left
on
her
work
answering
machine,
and
twice
come
back
to
seduce
her
again,
knowing
that
she
had
no
way
to
resist
him.
But
this
time,
with
him
having
moved
across
the
country,
she
had
a
feeling
deep
inside
that
it
could
truly
be
over,
and
it
was
tearing
her
apart.
She
had
a
great
husband,
two
wonderful
children,
a
lovely
job
at
city
hall
working
with
the
community,
a
seat
on
the
school
board
in
her
posh
New
York
suburb.
She
was
a
respected
and
outstanding
member
of
the
community,
the
very
image
of
rectitude
and
devotion,
seen
in
church
every
Sunday.
And
yet
she
had
never
felt
as
alive
as
when
she
had
been
seeing
Alexander.
Even
her
marriage
had
benefited
from
her
affair,
and
having
dreaded
marital
sex
for
years,
she
now
found
herself
silently
bemoaning
the
lack
of
skill
and
endurance
that
her
husband
displayed
(the
husband
meanwhile
attributed
his
wife’s
sexual
reawakening
to
his
own
prowess
and
felt
like
a
superhero).
She
feared
that
she
might
lose
all
of
this,
that
Alexander’s
silence
could
make
it
all
go
away
and
turn
the
carriage
back
into
a
pumpkin.
Michel’s
measured
responses
left
her
confused
but
not
in
a
bad
way.
The
confusion
inevitably
led
to
curiosity,
not
bewilderment.
She
had
never
heard
anyone
utter
the
word
‘phallus’,
let
alone
a
man.
“What
sort
of
a
person
uses
such
words?”
she
thought
in
wonder,
as
she
followed
him
in
the
careful
dance
he
led
hoping
that
she
would
willingly
come
to
calmer
shores
where
pleasure
can
be
confused
with
nothing
else,
and
eventually
she
did.
To
her
initial
insistence
on
a
rougher
type
of
imagery
he
responded
by
turning
the
topic
into
a
literary
discussion
on
the
works
of
the
divine
marquis,
Anne
Desclos
and
A
N
Roquelaure.
The
next
day,
she
found
herself
reading
the
first
of
the
Beauty
books
and
that
evening
discussing
it
with
Michel.
She
loved
books
and
again
found
herself
bewitched.
“What
sort
of
person
talks
about
sex
and
books
at
the
same
time?”
While
she
had
vaguely
known
of
the
existence
of
such
books,
she
found
herself
quite
surprised
to
realize
that
they
were
freely
available
at
the
public
library.
He’d
warned
her
that
the
book
proceeded
in
a
crescendo
with
which
he
himself
had
not
been
able
to
fully
engage
as
it
progressed
and
that
she
might
also
wish
to
un-‐suspend
disbelief
before
the
final
chapter,
and
indeed
she
did.
She
finished
the
book
the
next
day
and
soon
had
a
chance
to
call
him.
They
spoke
of
the
book
at
length,
their
first
shared
experience,
and
of
its
many
merits.
He
found
it
exciting
and
arousing
to
hear
a
woman’s
reading
of
the
text.
Michel
tried
to
take
life
in
stride,
mostly,
but
in
the
weeks
before
he’d
struck
a
fast
friendship
with
Alexander,
he
found
himself
pondering
the
possibility
of
exploring
other
avenues
in
life.
He
wasn’t
looking
for
an
affair
per
se,
but
was
clearly
open
to
the
possibility.
His
marriage
had
of
course
never
been
a
stellar
to-‐do,
but
as
their
only
son
was
growing
into
a
young
boy
it
seemed
that
all
physical
contact
between
he
and
his
wife
had
ceased.
While
he
was
willing
to
accept
much
responsibility
for
the
situation,
wrack
his
brains
as
he
might,
he
could
find
no
way
forward
or
out.
Separation,
because
it
would
hurt
the
three
of
them
terribly
was
out
of
the
question.
But
the
corner
that
he
and
his
wife
had
painted
themselves
into
had
the
inertia
and
gravity
of
a
black
hole.
The
relationship
with
his
wife
had
begun
with
several
disastrous
sexual
experiences
which
they
had
separately
vowed
to
overcome
but
in
truth
never
had.
The
fact
that
they
were
no
longer
interested
in
having
sex
with
each
other
was
in
his
mind
undeniable
and
in
good
part
rooted
in
the
also
seemingly
undeniable
fact
that
they
did
not
enjoy
having
sex
with
each
other.
Such
findings
a
decade
and
a
half
into
a
marriage
are
hardly
conducive
to
optimism
and
that
did
lead
him
to
contemplate
the
concept
of
affairs,
but
interestingly
enough
with
the
thought
that
maybe
if
she
had
an
affair,
things
might
improve.
He
loved
his
wife,
but
love
does
not
always
suffice,
and
with
the
thought
of
the
stress
and
unhappiness
of
his
marriage
turning
into
a
permanent
prospect,
he
let
his
mind
wander
into
uncensored
directions
rooted
in
the
dreams
he
had
as
a
teenager
of
what
his
life,
sexual
and
otherwise,
would
be
like
someday.
He
had
truly
expected
to
be
happy
and
that
had
been
his
main
ambition,
to
the
derision
of
many
Parisian
friends
most
of
whom
already
aspired
to
the
traditional
French
dream
of
a
wife,
a
mistress
and
two
dogs.
But
over
time
his
vicarious
sex
life
turned
into
prolonged
celibacy
and
he’d
lost
his
virginity
to
the
woman
he
would
marry.
He’d
had
dreams
of
a
union
endowed
with
a
sustained
sex
life
enriched
by
his
past
experiences
and
experiments,
and
now
he
pined
for
the
times
when
he
thought
he
would
be
happy.
Alexander
had
of
course
no
idea
that
this
was
the
psychological
backdrop
against
which
he
was
to
make
his
offer,
but
Michel
knew
a
sign
when
he
saw
one
and
seized
the
chance.
He
immediately
accepted
and
was
quite
amused
as
over
the
next
few
days
Alexander
would
come
see
him
furtively
at
work
and
half-‐whisper
injunctions
and
rules
such
as
“no-‐one
must
know
of
this”
or
“don’t
believe
everything
she
tells
you”.
The
remark
about
how
she
liked
kinky
stuff
surprised
him
in
that
he’d
not
suspected
that
Alexander
liked
such
things.
Then
again,
why
would
he?
Men
do
not
share
their
sexual
preferences
in
casual
conversation.
But
he
had
to
notice
once
again
that
one
does
not
view
people
quite
in
the
same
way
when
armed
with
such
personal
information.
Alexander’s
apparent
emotional
disarray
prompted
Michel
to
invite
his
friend
to
lunch
for
a
serious
conversation,
just
as
his
liaison
with
Catherine
was
about
to
begin.
Michel
had
already
ascertained
a
number
of
things
and
told
Alexander
as
much,
namely
that
Cathy
had
been
his
mistress,
one
of
several,
that
Alexander
himself
was
the
driving
force
of
these
liaisons,
all
sexual
and
flirting
with
forbidden
pleasures,
innocent
surely
but
not
known
as
commonly
accepted.
“With
her,
I
opened
Pandora’s
box”
Alexander
had
confided.
“Everyone
thinks
she’s
two
steps
away
from
being
a
nun,
and
she
was
until
she
met
me.
Then
she
turned
into
a
different
person.
But
I
can’t
take
it
anymore.
My
wife
nearly
found
out,
and
when
I
swore
to
her
that
I
was
not
having
an
affair,
I
meant
it:
it
has
to
be
over.”
While
Alexander
babbled
like
a
would-‐be
recovering
alcoholic,
Michel
mulled
it
over
before
launching
into
a
stern
monologue
that
did
not
call
for
response.
“The
first
thing
that
needs
to
be
clear
is
that
you
have
started
this
and
cannot
stop
it.
She
has
my
number
and
I
have
instructed
her
to
call
me
in
three
days.
If
you
find
yourself
full
of
regrets
when
all
is
said
and
done,
blame
yourself.
Next,
I
need
to
tell
you
that
I
find
it
an
honor
that
you
would
have
made
such
an
offer
to
me.
Clearly
my
love
for
you
as
a
friend
is
only
burgeoning,
but
it
is
already
strong
and
I
am
moved
to
find
that
this
is
true
also
for
you
to
the
point
that
you
would
introduce
me
to
your
mistress.
You
see,
in
France,
it
is
considered
a
bond
of
friendship
and
an
honor
to
share
a
woman.
It
is
remarkable
when
two
men
are
so
similar
that
they
can
prove
to
be
of
equal
pleasure
to
the
same
woman,
and
it
is
a
powerful
friendship
that
can
sustain
the
sharing
such
an
experience
as
the
pleasure
of
a
woman.
Now
the
situation
here
is
less
stark
since
she
lives
three
thousand
miles
away.
There
is
for
instance
no
chance
of
meeting
her
in
the
streets
while
with
our
spouses.
That
seems
to
be
one
of
the
reasons
that
brought
you
to
Los
Angeles,
in
fact.
The
chances
that
she
and
I
will
physically
meet
are
remote.
So
that
will
make
things
very
simple
overall.
We
must
nonetheless
be
careful,
you
and
I,
and
especially
you,
I’m
afraid.
You’re
the
one
with
the
most
to
lose,
and
you’re
freaking
out.
No,
let
me
talk.
You
are
freaking
out.
But
there
is
no
need
to.
There
is
a
very
simple
set
of
ground
rules
that
we
must
observe.
To
start
with,
we
have
to
be
lucid
and
clear-‐headed.
You
and
I
are
friends
and
I
am
most
likely
about
to
engage
in
what
can
only
be
called
an
affair
with
a
mistress
of
yours.
What
matters
between
you
and
I
is
our
friendship.
Nothing
can
harm
this
unless
we
allow
it,
not
even
a
woman.
Call
me
French,
but
if
a
woman
can
destroy
our
friendship,
then
it
was
not
worth
having.
If
we
agree
on
that,
the
next
part
follows
easily.
If
you
wish
to
talk
about
her,
do
so.
If
you
do
not,
don’t.
Just
afford
me
the
same
freedom
and
you
will
find
that
there
is
no
reason
that
she
be
off-‐
limits
as
a
topic
of
conversation.
But
that
takes
us
to
the
last
rule:
my
affair
is
my
affair,
and
yours
is
yours.
If
your
affair
is
a
burden
to
you
then
understand
that
it
remains
your
burden.
You
cannot
transfer
her
over
to
me
and
be
done.
It
is
not
cargo
we
speak
of.
By
having
an
affair,
you
altered
the
life
of
a
human
being
and
you
must
deal
with
the
consequences
to
her,
as
she
must
for
you.
If
you
are
lucky,
she
will
indeed
be
distracted,
but
don’t
count
on
me
to
help.
If
my
affair
flourishes
and
yours
does
not,
you
should
rejoice
as
I
feel
for
you.
The
reverse
is
just
as
true.
For
the
rest,
if
you
ask
a
question
I
don’t
care
for,
I’ll
change
the
topic
as
should
you.
But
on
the
plus
side,
you
now
have
someone
you
can
talk
to
about
her.
Are
you
ready
for
desert?”