the violation

To say that I did not anticipate it would be a lie. She is what she is, Mademoiselle Chermone; she takes what she wants, and she takes without compunction, certain that whatever lust she feels is returned to her in due measure. It is simply her nature, and one could no more begrudge her that than one could begrudge a she-cat the urges to hunt mice and conquer toms.

At that moment, however, I did not expect it. We were close, and we had been close for some time, as we walked that night. Foolishly I had trusted her to maintain some decorum, even as the riotous sunset faded and the stars revealed themselves in the satin-dark night; foolishly I had remained close. She has a way of making me trust, of drawing me close, which I cannot rightly explain. I am not a fool, except with regard to Mademoiselle Chermone. She is a creature entirely unto herself.

We walked almost hand-in-hand, wrists brushing, and I chose to believe –– foolishly –– that these brief, burning contacts of skin on skin were innocent. We spoke openly, as we had always spoken. We ran, crying out in harmless, frivolous fury at the invisibly buzzing mosquitoes around us. Breathing heavily, our skins sheathed in warm sweat, we slowed and laughed and fell into stride again. We walked.

She looked at me, her eyes dark and glittering in the starlight, and she smiled her curious little scheming smile. What strange eyes they are, how strange they looked in that moment, how fascinating; as my gaze was caught on them, snagged as trailing lace on a rose's thorn, she moved.

Her fingertip, long, unpainted nail and soft white flesh, insinuated itself into my unprotected torso, its motion so sudden that I had no opportunity to repel its firm but gentle force. The sensation of her touch on my body was startling; I might have expected indignance or hurt as my reaction, but the wounded expression on my face was feigned, and she knew it. With that, her first caress, my desire blossomed and began to grow.

As quickly as she had advanced, Mademoiselle Chermone drew back, beautiful hand dangling innocently at the curve of her hip. Her eyes glittered as they had before, perhaps a shade more warmly, more darkly; reflected there was the silky blue-black of the night sky, soft and slippery and inviting. I imagined that she winked at me.

I hid my eyes after that, and we walked in silence. She had taken a part of me which she held smugly, I knew, content with her conquest; I could not allow her to know just how great her victory was, how completely she possessed me, how I wanted to feel her hands upon me again.