her, kissed her on the nose and turned his back to her. Excuse me, he said, pulling the covers over him, I can’t sleep with a woman breathing into my face.
It was a long time before Helene could get to sleep. She was not interested in what women had breathed into his face when, or where; his sperm was running out of her in a little stream, sticky between her legs, and then it was as if she had slept for only a couple of minutes when she felt his hands on her hips again.
That’s right, yes, he said, turning her over on her stomach. Kneeling behind her, he pulled her towards him and thrust in.
It burned. He braced his large hand against her back, hurting her, he pushed her ahead of him on the mattress. That’s it, keep moving, you won’t get away from me.
Helene kicked his knee with all her might. He cried out.
What’s the idea of that? He took her by the shoulders and they both lay still. Don’t you like it?
Shall I show you how I like it? She asked the question in self-defence; she could think of no answer, she hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings, but he agreed. She approached him, his large body, he knelt on the mattress, sat back on his heels, his prick dangled heavy and limp between his powerful thighs. Shall I lie down? There was a note of derision in his voice, or perhaps he was just unsure of himself.
Helene said yes, yes, lie down. She bent over him, she smelled his sweat through the eau de cologne on his chest, sweat that smelled a little strange. She took the sheet and dried his chest, his forehead, his thighs first outside, then on the inside. He lay on his back with his body rigid, as if afraid.
She licked his skin with her tongue until he laughed.
He asked her to stop, it tickled. That’s not the way, he said.
She took his hands, placed them on her flat breasts, where they lay as if at a loss, not knowing what to do. Helene lay on top of him and moved, she pressed her body to his, she felt his skin with her lips, her teeth touched him, her soft fingertips and nails, she rubbed his prick and, as it began to stiffen in arousal, used it to sit on him. She rode him, she bent over to be closer to him, she leaned back to feel the air, she listened to his breathing, listened to his desire, and felt some desire herself.
What are you doing to me? Wilhelm’s question sounded surprised, almost suspicious. He didn’t wait for her to answer. You’re an animal, a real little animal. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. My wife, he said. He was speaking to himself, confirming the fact, making sure of it. My wife.
Didn’t he like her mouth? Helene wondered why he didn’t kiss her on the lips, for he avoided them. He got up and went out. Helene heard water rushing; he was obviously washing.
When he came back and lay down on the mattress beside her, heavy and hesitant, he asked hoarsely: May I turn the light on?
Of course. Helene was shivering pleasantly; she had drawn the covers up to her chin. In the light he looked crumpled, the shadows showing lines that Helene had never seen on him before. Presumably he now saw her own little lines and dimples, hollows and dips, previously unknown to him.
I must ask you something. He had pulled the other blanket over himself. He looked seriously at her. Were his eyes exploring her? Was he afraid?
There are ways and means, she said, don’t worry.
Ways and means?
Of avoiding a pregnancy, she explained.
That’s not what I meant. Wilhelm was obviously confused. Why would I want to avoid a pregnancy? Or you either? No, I must ask you something else.
What?
I’ve just been out to wash myself.
Yes?
Well, how can I put it? Normally I’d have had . . . there’d have been . . . well, I’d thought there was sure to be . . . As if to encourage himself he raised her chin with one finger. You didn’t bleed at all.
Helene looked at his tense and baffled face. Had he expected her to be menstruating, or were there other reasons why she would be bleeding? Now it was her turn to raise a questioning eyebrow. So?
You know what that means yourself. Now he was