tagRomanceMadeleine Ch. 03

Madeleine Ch. 03


June, 1915
Paris, France

"A toast! A toast to Robert," cried Sergei Hoffmann, over the din of well-wishers.

"Hear, hear!" was the response from several corners of the room.

We were gathered in the private room of a well-known Paris restaurant for the traditional bachelor's night, and the good food and copious amounts of spirits in all varieties had made for a memorable evening.

Stories – many of them bawdy – had been told and conversation had been brisk. These were my friends, the people I had come to know in the two years that I had been stationed in Paris with the U.S. Embassy, and they were there to celebrate my passage from bachelorhood into holy matrimony with the beautiful Madeleine Lévesque.

It was hard for me to believe that just four months had passed since that cold night in February when we had first expressed our feeling for each other.

On the surface, we should not have been a matched couple, for there was much that set us apart.

I was exactly twice her age – she was 18 and I was 36 – and she was the daughter of a bistro owner, while I was an undersecretary to the American Ambassador to France. And, of course, she was a French girl who had lived all of her life in the big city of Paris, while I was actually a country boy from the swamps of Louisiana.

Nevertheless, our love had blossomed, once we unbottled our feelings. As spring loosened winter's grip on the city, we would walk through the parks, or on the streets, talking about all sorts of things.

Many of our conversations had to do with the war that had been raging for nearly a year now. Some nights we would sit by the Seine and hear the muffled thunder of the big cannons from the front, which wasn't all that far away.

Madeleine had already lost several of her friends from school, who had gone to the front and never come back. I would often hold her as she wept for the souls that had been taken – and, remarkably, she would weep for those of the other side, as well.

"It is so senseless," she would say. "Why do they fight? Why? Tell me, Robert, what makes men leave their homes and go off to kill other men that they don't even know, and to die in such a horrible manner?"

And I couldn't give her an answer that made sense, other than the fact that Germany did occupy a significant portion of French land and that the French government was duty-bound to dislodge them.

One thing we did discover was that we both loved music. Our first date had been to a performance of the Paris Symphony, and I was captivated by the way she closed her eyes and moved to the music, as if it was playing her.

Many times, we would simply sit in the parlor at the cozy apartment she shared with her father, or at my place, and talk, or perhaps I would break out my old accordion and sing to her the old Cajun folk songs that my mother had taught me. Soon, she picked them up and we would sing together.

And then we would embrace on the divan and we would kiss. Oh my, would we kiss. Each time we did, I would feel the arousal surge through me like a bolt of lightning, and it would take all of our willpower not to succumb to the lust that threatened to overwhelm us.

Certainly, Madeleine would have probably been receptive to my advances, but I had made Marcel – her father and my friend – a promise that I would not do anything that would bring dishonor to him or his daughter.

A month earlier, I had surprised Madeleine with a ring and a proposal of marriage, and she had accepted – to the roaring approval of our friends at Marcel's.

Her father had openly wept, saying, "I wish her mother could have lived to see this moment."

And now I was seated at a long table where my friend Sergei was toasting my success at winning Madeleine's hand. Sergei was swaying slightly from the vodka he'd consumed and he had a slightly crazy look in his eyes.

"Yes, a toast to the lucky man who will soon be bedding the delectable Madeleine," Sergei said. "Perhaps I shall pay a visit to Chez La Vie and fuck a brunette in his honor."

That brought a roaring laugh from the assembly.

Sergei was referring to a rather well-known brothel that most of the men in the room – yes, myself included – had patronized in the past.

Despite his German surname and German ancestry, Sergei was thoroughly Russian, a minor noble in that country, and an undersecretary at the Russian Embassy. He had been the first friend I'd made when I arrived in Paris, and we had originally been rivals for Madeleine's affections.

However, he had graciously stepped aside when it became obvious to everyone at the bistro – to everyone, apparently, except me – that she only had eyes for me.

"To Robert," Sergei said, as our glasses clinked together. "May they fill their home with sons and daughters, and may they live long and enjoy much happiness. Salut!"

Two days later, I stood in front of the altar at Madeleine's church, with the black-robed priest to my right and the three men who would be standing for me to my left.

Next to me was Sergei Hoffman, and next to him was Clark McDonald, who had started at the State Department at the same time I did and who was now my chief assistant at the embassy in Paris.

At the far end was Mr. Sharp, the ambassador himself, with whom I had become good friends since his appointment a year or so earlier.

Unlike Mr. Herrick, his predecessor, William Sharp spoke little French and frequently used me as an interpreter, since I spoke fluent French. Plus, he had relied on my working knowledge of the often-bewildering French government that I had gained during the year which I'd been posted to the U.S. embassy prior to his arrival.

The church which Marcel and Madeleine attended was a smaller, neighborhood church, and the sanctuary was packed with friends of us both. Missing were members of my family, such as it was.

Of course, with the war going on, it was far too dangerous for Amelie and her family to make the passage across the Atlantic to be there with me, but she had sent me a telegram expressing her congratulations and her love.

Once we were in place, the small organ started the processional, and Madeleine's maids of honor filed slowly up the aisle.

First was her cousin Emilie, the daughter of Marcel's sister, who was the same age as Madeleine and with whom she had been close since infancy.

Second was Madeleine's Aunt Charisse, her mother's sister who had come to Paris in the mid-1890s as a teenager and had been a can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge before taking up sculpture. Charisse wasn't open about it, but it was a poorly-kept secret that she was a lesbian.

None of us – Marcel, Madeleine or myself – necessarily approved of her lifestyle, but Madeleine adored her, in spite of it all. Charisse was a bright, witty person who lit up a room with her mere presence, much like her niece.

Third, came Madeleine's oldest and dearest friend from school, Therese, a sad-eyed blonde who was obviously pregnant with the baby of her husband, who was serving in the Army.

Finally, the organist hit the notes that signaled the arrival of the bride, and my heart did somersaults as Madeleine stood at the back of the church on the arm of her father, who gave me a huge smile, even as the tears streamed down his face.

She wore a simple, but beautiful white gown, and her hair was pinned up and beautifully arranged atop her head, with the veil pinned there to fall over the lovely face.

It was a moment that would forever be seared on my brain, because Madeleine Lévesque was simply the most gorgeous creature I'd ever seen in that moment.

Her eyes sparkled like diamonds and her smile was ... well, enigmatic. It was a smile of joy, but also of nerves. She had waited a long time for this day, and she wasn't entirely certain about the future. Truthfully, I felt much the same way.

Even though we had spoken a lot over the previous weeks about our hopes and dreams, there was still much that we had to learn about each other. And, too, there was the anticipation of consummating our relationship. I had never wanted a woman sexually like I wanted Madeleine, and I wanted to please her in the worst way. For her part, she had never been with a man, and she was understandably nervous.

When she reached the altar and stood next to me, she looked up at me with a look that struck me to my very core. It was a look of such love and devotion that I was almost taken aback, and I knew in that moment that I would do anything to prove worthy of her feelings toward me.

Later, after we had exchanged our vows, we had all retired to Marcel's for the reception. A small orchestra played, and there was food, drink and dancing, and all the while M. Lévesque flitted about with a huge smile on his broad face.

When it was all said and done, we departed Marcel's through a gauntlet of well-wishers to where a horse-drawn carriage awaited.

"Robert, my husband," Madeleine said breathlessly. "Will we be returning to your apartment, or do you have other plans?"

She was leaning into me with her arm hooked inside mine. She was slightly tipsy from all of the toasts that had been offered in our honor, and she was feeling very affectionate.

"A surprise, my love," I replied.

"Umm, I like surprises," she answered, leaning her head on my shoulder.

The night was warm, but pleasant as we rode through the streets of Paris. Along the way, passers-by greeted us with congratulations as they saw the sign on the back of the carriage that read, "just married."

At length, the carriage stopped in front of an opulent building, and Madeleine's eyes widened, for we had stopped at the Hotel Ritz, the most luxurious establishment in Paris.

"Robert, you shouldn't have," she exclaimed. "How can you afford this?"

"It is one of my gifts to you," I said. "I cannot give you a honeymoon at this time, so several days in the nicest hotel in the city will have to suffice."

At that, she leaned into me and we walked through the doors of the hotel arm-in-arm, with a liveried bellhop behind us carrying our suitcases.

After checking in, we went up to our suite. I unlocked the door, then reached around, swept Madeleine off her feet and carried her across the threshold. She giggled at that, then kissed me warmly.

I had hoped to take my new bride on a honeymoon trip to the Riviera for a few days, but I was unable to get that much time off.

Tensions were still running high following the sinking of the Lusitania, a American passenger ship, a few weeks earlier by a German submarine. It was thought that this incident might be the one that would push the United States into the war, and we at the embassy were making preparations in case that came to pass.

Americans were shocked and outraged by the unprovoked attack on an unarmed passenger ship, but privately many of us in the diplomatic corps had been hearing whispers that the Lusitania had been secretly carrying munitions bound for Britain in her hold, which was one reason why she sank so quickly, just 18 minutes after being struck by a torpedo.

At any rate, Mr. Stark could not spare me for more than a few days time, and he wanted me to remain in the city in case I was needed at a moment's notice.

So I had splurged on a few days at the Ritz, where we would be pampered and treated to a luxury Madeleine had never before experienced. I wanted to give her a taste of the good life that could become our future, if my career continued in the way that it was going.

The hotel had provided us with a basket of fruits and candies, and I had ordered a bottle of champagne on ice to be sent to the room. I popped the cork on the bottle, poured us each a glass and toasted my bride once more.

"To us," I said softly. "May we enjoy a long life of love beginning from this day forward."

"To us," Madeleine whispered.

We drank, then she came to me, still in her white wedding gown. We kissed, and this time there was a hunger there that was palpable. We had always kissed with passion, but this was more. Our tongues jousted leisurely and our arms were wrapped tightly around each other as if we could preserve the moment just by willing it.

There was a fire in her eyes when we finally came up for air. My penis was rock-hard in my pants, and I could see her smallish nipples poking through the front of her dress, announcing her arousal.

Madeleine stepped back, then reached up and began removing the pins that had been holding her hair up off her neck. When she had them all out, she gently shook her head and her wondrous soft dark hair cascaded about her shoulders.

I was mesmerized as she methodically unbuttoned the dress and let it fall to the floor. She was dressed now in a slip over a one-piece camisole that was what served as underwear for women in that day.

Off went the slip and I was confronted with a sight that I had spent many a night dreaming about, a nearly-naked Madeleine, her firm young breasts peeking up from the top of the camisole and her delightfully long legs.

Slowly, one by one, Madeleine untied the stays to the camisole, with a smoky look of lust on her face. I just stared as a smile slowly creased my face. This girl may have been a virgin, but she knew what she was doing. She was playing the role of seductress to the hilt, and she knew it.

When she finished, and her breasts were all but exposed, she stepped back to me and put her arms around my shoulders.

"I know a man like you has had other women before me," she said softly. "But I plan to make you forget about all of them. I want you to make me a women, now, tonight, my husband, and I will give you everything you could ever want in a woman. You are mine, and you will be forever."

"As you wish, my love," I said as I pulled her to me and kissed her again.

My hands reached in the open front of her camisole and gently squeezed her bare breasts, lightly kneading the soft flesh, then slowly twirling her nipples between my fingers. Madeleine growled in appreciation as my hands roamed down her sides and along her flat stomach.

I resisted the urge to continue further down, as I had pressing business to take care of at that moment. I stepped back and casually removed my vest, my shoes, socks, shirt and pants, until I stood in front of my bride clad only in shorts and undershirt.

My penis – my cock, if you will – sat like a fat slug in my shorts, and Madeleine's eyes widened slightly as she got her first look at a man in full arousal.

"I believe I will finish unwrapping my wedding present," I said.

I reached over to Madeleine and gently pushed the camisole away from her shoulders and it fell off her body and down her legs.

Now it was my turn to gasp, for there stood Madeleine in all her naked glory.

How can I describe that moment? Simply, she was perfection. Her breasts were not big, but sat high and proud on her chest without the first hint of sag. Her waist was narrow, as were her hips, but she had the most perfect heart-shaped ass on her that I had ever seen.

And between her legs was a dark, but not very thick patch of pubic hair that descended to the valley of passion that awaited my ministrations.

"My God, you are beautiful," I whispered.

"Do you really like me?" she answered, a bit timidly. She was nervous now that we had reached the moment of truth.

"Does this answer your question?" I said, as I removed what remained of my clothes and stood before her equally naked. My cock bounced up hard and ready, the head already poking out from my foreskin, red and wet.

"Love me," Madeleine whispered as we came together once again.

As much as I wanted to push her onto the bed and fuck her silly, I took it slow. We would have the rest of our lives to rut like animals, but she would only have one first time, and I wanted to make it special.

The bed was already turned down, as if the hotel had anticipated our needs. We kissed again, our mouths hot and wet, with urgency spurring us on. Our hands were exploring each other's flesh, becoming acquainted with the body that would henceforth be giving the other pleasure.

I bent down and suckled her breasts, licking and lightly biting her nipples. Her gasp of lust told me I was on the right track, especially when my fingers found her sex. She was wet, very wet, and her breathing quickened as I quickly found her little clitoris and gently rolled it with the tip of my finger.

Then it was my turn to gasp as her dainty hand found my hard stem of flesh. She tentatively began to softly stroke me, and I groaned from the feelings of intense arousal that her touch elicited.

"Please, Robert, love me," she whispered. "I'm ready, but be gentle. I've never had a man before. I was waiting for you to be my first."

As much as I wanted to play, our need to be one was too great. Madeleine lay back, her dark hair fanning across the pillow, her legs spread open in invitation. I got up on my knees between her legs, then gazed for a moment at the prize I was about to win.

Madeleine's sex was open like a flower, a dark coral color, gleaming in her arousal. Her eyes were pleading for me to do it, and I did. Grasping my cock at its base, I aimed it for her hole and slid the head of my cock in. I quickly encountered her hymen, and stopped momentarily to get her ready for what was to come.

"This will hurt some, my love," I said softly. "But it will be worth it."

"I'm ready," she said.

In response, I drove my hips forward, pushing past her barrier and into her hot depths. Madeleine squealed in pain for a moment, but as I sank my length into her and let her adjust to my size, she cried softly and panted for me to do it.

I reached down, gathered her in my arms, and we kissed wildly as I slowly began to churn in her vagina. It didn't take long before she got into the rhythm and was answering my inward thrusts with upward thrusts of her hips as if she was trying to keep the connection between us as long as possible

"Oh, Robert, it feels so good!" she exclaimed, her pain already a vague memory. Her hands clutched at my back as we made love with an ever-increasing passion.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she panted as I could feel her body beginning to reach climax. I was hoping to make it last as long as I could, but the weeks that I had gone without any release, the months that I gone without a woman – saving myself for this particular woman – all helped bring my own orgasm to a boil much faster than I might have wanted.

But Madeleine wasn't complaining. Not in the least. Her body was shimmying and jerking as she quickly approached a full-body climax the likes of which I had rarely seen in all my years of lovemaking.

It was too much. With a grunt and a groan, I lurched forward and exploded a fountain of semen deep in Madeleine's vagina, which spasmed around my spewing penis in rapid response.

We held each other for long moments as the feelings of sexual release rushed from one to the other, until finally we were spent, for the moment.

We lay together in a welter of arms and legs, our bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, smiling at each other. We had known the passion between us would be good, but neither of us could have dreamed it would be that good.

"So, was it worth it?" I said playfully.

"Oh, yes, Robert, it was all worth it," she said. "The waiting for you to notice me, the waiting after we began our courtship and the pain of my first time, it was all worth it. I love you so very much Robert, and I will be the best wife you could have ever imagined."

And she was.

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