Body Double
Our first evening out as Beau and Gisselle Andreas was a great success. I wore one of Gisselle's strapless outfits with a tight-fitting bodice. Beau laughed at my reaction to my image in the mirror. Almost all of her dresses had the same low necklines, so they revealed more cleavage than I would have liked.
'Your sister always pushed to the limits when it came to what was and was not socially acceptable,' Beau said. 'I think she enjoyed outraging high society.'
'Well, I don't.'
'Still, you look enchanting,' he said; stepping back with a sensual smile painted on his face. He laughed. 'There was nothing Gisselle liked more than walking into a fancy, expensive restaurant and having heads turn her way in astonishment.'
'I'll be blushing so badly, everyone will know who I really am!'
'They'll just think it's Gisselle's way of flirting,' Beau replied.
Heads did turn when we entered the restaurant. Beau carried Pearl, who looked adorable in the little sailor girl outfit we had bought her. I tried to imagine Gisselle's arrogance and swagger, but when people's eyes met mine, faces smeared into one giant blur and I instinctively looked down. However, none of the people we met who were acquaintances of Beau and Gisselle's displayed any suspicions. Whatever nervousness or uncharacteristic behavior they saw in me, they attributed to the current tragic situation. Gisselle was always willing to let people know how much she suffered. Nevertheless, I noticed that most people showed their sympathy more to Beau than to me, and I realized quickly that those who were friends with Beau and Gisselle were friends with them mainly because of him.
Beau cleverly announced anyone's name in greeting before I had to say anything.
'Marcus, Lorraine, how are you?' he would cry as they approached the table.
'Whose lovely child is this?' almost everyone asked.
'My sister's,' I replied with a smirk. 'But for now and maybe forever, she's my responsibility.'
'Oh?'
That would lead to Beau providing the explanation. If anyone did show sympathy to me, it was solely because of the new burden I was to bear.
'As you can see,' Beau told me on the way home, 'most of Gisselle's friendships are thin and artificial. I used to notice how they never really listened to each other or cared that much about what each other said.'
''Snakes of the same color are drawn to each other,' Grandmere used to say,' I told him.
'Exactly.'
We were both so buoyed by my premier performances in the role of my sister, our hearts felt light and gay when we returned to the house. Beau had arranged for interviews the next day, hoping to hire new servants as soon as possible. I put Pearl to sleep in her new crib and new room, thinking to myself how wonderful it was that she was to have the room that had been mine. My father had been so proud of it and so happy with my elated reaction to it and the views of our gardens and property. To me it was the doorway to a wonderland. Hopefully it would become that for Pearl, too.
Beau came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and his lips on my neck.
'Feeling better?' he asked softly.
'Yes.'
'A little happy?'
'A little,' I offered.
He laughed and turned me to him for a long and passionate kiss. Then a small smile played about his beautifully shaped lips. 'You know, you did look very sexy tonight.'
'Not in front of the baby,' I chastised gently when his fingers found the snaps on my dress and he began to lower it off my shoulders. He laughed and scooped me up to carry me to our suite. After he placed me gently on the bed, he stepped back and smiled strangely.
'What?' I asked.
'Let's pretend this is really our first night together as man and wife, our honeymoon night. We've never made love with each other before. We've touched each other, kissed each other hard and long, but I have always respected you when I courted you and you always said, let's wait. Well, now we're married; now it's time,' he declared.
'Oh, Beau . . .'
He knelt down and put his fingers on my lips. 'Don't speak,' he said. 'Words are too clumsy now.'
I sat quietly as he gracefully peeled my dress down my arms. He kissed my shoulders, now gleaming in the soft light of the three-quarter moon streaming through our bedroom window. He unfastened my bra and drew it off me. For a moment all he did was gaze at me. My heart pounded so hard, I thought he could see the hammering under my breast. Slowly he brought his hands to me, caressing me. I moaned and lay back on the plush, fluffy pillows. I closed my eyes and just listened to the rustling of his clothing. I remained still, quiet, as he completed undressing me and moments later brought his naked body to mine.
Funny the power our illusions had over us, I thought, because we did make love as if it were for the first time. Each kiss was a new kiss, each touch a new touch. We made discoveries about each other, listened to each other's moans and heavy breathing as if we both heard things we had never before heard. Our passion was so great and so deep, it drove me to tears of ecstasy. If we declared our love once, we declared it a hundred times as we stroked the deepest part of ourselves repeatedly.
It was exhausting, but ecstatically so, leaving us both tired but content. All the problems and difficulties ahead
