CHAPTER XII
From that day onwards Myriam's behaviour as far as love was concerned changed completely. She found a morbid pleasure in discovering love's forbidden paths. She wanted to know everything, to try everything. She perverted herself with as much energy as she had used to stay pure. She found more pleasure in the process than in flesh itself. She saw Jerome every day, she yielded now to every one of his desires with a renewed frenzy, nothing was forbidden him, if needs be she even invented new desires to satisfy them all the better. Her mind was at work too. She wanted to become love's priestess, to know all the arts of passion, all its shams. These, together with her youth and beauty were terrible weapons; she hadn't forgotten her revenge…
Kozincko was crazy on her. She had understood what he needed: the illusion of perpetual change. Thus everyday revealed a new Myriam to his senses, innocent modest or astoundingly depraved. She refused her body to surrender it all the more passionately afterwards with a fiendish lewdness.
She went to his office sometimes, pushing her breasts to his lips, crushing her youthful body against his she drew him into frantic pieces of extempore fucking.
At night when he would come to see Ghislaine, he was at pains to hide his gnawing desire. He had to wait till he got back to his car, and there in the shadow he would tumble Myriam legs up and shove in frantically.
Sometimes he'd take her to the Chateau Vert as the lady of the place. She had soon become the queen of the Bacchanals there. Whipping the blood of all the male guests but never granting them the slightest… favour.
Nicolas was much too jealous to give her to any of his friends. But she would insist on his fucking other women under her eyes or with her help… an arrangement which could but delight Kozincko. As a return for this he would grant her anything she wished, and her wishes were numerous and costly. Yet he asked her one thing peremptorily and that was to keep secret the existence of his daughter. None of his friends knew about her. Moreover she was to keep these parties at the Chateau Vert a secret for Ghislaine. And this Myriam did faithfully…
Freddy had become a friend of hers, he desired her violently, he had even tried his chance… but Myriam had said no so sweetly it sounded almost as a promise.
And Freddy gloated over her hoping she would soon keep the promise. The Argentine too would have loved to tackle her, instead of that she had made an ally of him.
All these tactics were part of Myriam's plans. She was slowly weaving her mesh, and little by little her nest was cast…
— Meanwhile Ghislaine hadn't changed. Both girls still agreed wonderfully. Ghislaine of course had guessed one thing or two, but she never asked any questions. Her father was taboo to her. She wasn't ignorant of Myriam's meetings with Jerome, and she'd help them for she was only too glad to find at night a loving Myriam who would give her a taste of her day's experiences. Strange to say, these sapphic loves left her innocent and naive she was childishly inquisitive merely. She felt some pleasure but above all she sought a tenderness which no father, no mother had yet given her. She was content with love's parody that satisfied her craving for tenderness without spoiling her body.
She couldn't conceive love might be violent. Just as Myriam before her defeat. The latter carefully abstained from giving her any too precise notion on what love actually was. She only managed to increase in Ghislaine that taste for innocent tenderness in which she gave herself as thoroughly as if she had had a lover.
— One night after a brilliant ball where Kozincko had chaperoned both girls, Myriam asked him blankly as they were on the way back:
«Why shouldn't you give a ball at the Chateau Vert for Ghislaine seventeenth birthday?»
Ghislaine went into raptures at once.
«Oh Yes Dad! that would be wonderful!»
Nicolas was unable to refuse these young minxes anything they wanted.
«You would like it both of you, wouldn't you?
«Especially if it could be a fancy dress-ball, added Myriam.»
Ghislaine cried:
«Oh yes, a real fancy dress ball. I'll be a fairy and you'll be a wizard!
«And I'll be Cinderella said Myriam.
«Why not said Kozincko it's a grand idea. I might have thought of it.
«Then Daddy shall we have a fancy-dress-ball?
«Yes you shall my dear. I never could refuse my little fairies anything!»
On that night Kozincko stayed longer than he used at his daughter's. He was yearning to take Myriam back with him. She was wearing a white dress very much like the one she had on the first time he possessed her and that memory set his temples hammering. His eyes clung heavily to Myriam's breasts, caressed the body under the dress, and he felt hornier than ever.
Myriam understood perfectly well what was going on in his mind and she was delighted to see that memory growing into a torture to him as it had been one to her.
It was almost three in the morning. Ghislaine looked tired.
«Good night my dear, go to bed; Myriam will see me downstairs…»
Myriam was tired too, but her lover's eyes were explicit… and she sighed.
«Yes, I'll.»
Ghislaine went into her room, while Kozincko breathed in Myriam's ear:
«God I want you!»
Myriam motioned him to be silent. Ghislaine might still hear him. They talked of the Chateau Vert next ball. After a while, Myriam said:
«I'm going to change and I'll see you to your place.»
Nicolas agreed absent mindedly.
Myriam's room was next to Ghislaine's. She could see Ghislaine was lying on her bed, she seemed to have fallen asleep, without bothering to take off her clothes.
«I'll undress her later on, and she closed the door.»
Then she saw Kozincko's stocky frame at her door.
«Aren't you mad! What if Ghislaine happened to wake up?»
Kozincko was past listening, bending her almost double, kissing her distractedly.
«Now go! go away! I'll come down…»
Nicolas was breathing hard. His eyes gloated over her.
He reached towards her decollete.
«No please not here. For Heaven's sake don't be crazy!
«Let me touch you, just touch you. You're so tempting; so… so desirable in that dress.»
His hands clung to her bare shoulders, slid along the frail arms, sneaked into her bosom, caught a breast.
Myriam dared not protest. She let him caress her, bitterly enjoying it, not knowing whether it was Ghislaine's presence that excited her, or her own conquered resistance.
Kozincko fastened greedily on her, seeking her body under the flimsy muslins. She felt his beefy hand running down her loins, pinching her ass obscenely.
«I want you… I want you now… I want to fuck you… let me… let me…»
The words crowded thickly on his lips. She read a brutish appetite in his blood-shot eyes. She felt his pecker throbbing against her thighs, knotty and stiff.
She freed herself.
«No! not here, not in that room… Any where else!»
He heard nothing, he only saw her lips moving close to his, trying to evade his kiss. His one thought was fuck, fuck her quick… He wanted to throw her on the bed. But she struggled away to the middle of the room.
An armchair was there, right in front of Ghislaine's door: Myriam under a vigorous shove fell in it. He was already panting on top of her. A silent laughter distorted his face. He caught her ankles, tumbled her back. Myriam
