Then I blushed furiously at the possible double meaning of this.
“You poor darling,” she said, reaching out and stroking my hand. “You mustn’t be afraid of me. But then soon you will get used to being loved and cared for in ways you haven’t been used to.”
Again I blushed, then pinched myself for allowing these interpretations to occur to me. But she kept looking at me and smiling as though to herself.
Nothing more was said while I ate. Each time I looked up, she was looking at me with vague, dream-like eyes.
After breakfast, we went into the living room, still both busy with our own thoughts. Annie brought in the coffee things, brought me a cup and left. I drank the coffee slowly, gazing at the floor filled with a sea of memories of Gunilla. It had been so much more than I thought could be. Suddenly I realized Mother was approaching me with the coffee urn. I remembered the previous night and what had happened when Gunilla had leaned down to pour. I saw that Mother’s blouse had several buttons open. She was before me, asking if she could fill my cup. She was bending, the blouse was sagging. At the last second, I closed my eyes. Thank God.
A long time went by. I couldn’t feel my cup filling. I opened my eyes. Mother was standing in front of me. There was an almost invisible smile at the corners of her mouth. Very carefully her left hand buttoned her blouse. To the very top button. Then she leaned forward and filled my cup. She replaced the coffee urn, said softly that she had to go into town for some things, and gracefully walked out.
I gulped the coffee and ran out the other door. I had to get outside, out of this house, for a while. To think. So much was happening.
Outside, I ran a long time. Finally out of breath I found myself in a pine woods.
As I kept walking the wood grew thicker and thicker, turning the light into strange ambers and greens. Along both sides of the trail were huge boulders.
I climbed one of these and moved across the flat top intending to descend the other side. Then I heard a voice coming from the clearing ahead. I stopped and looked down. The clearing was small and in the center of it was Louise laying what appeared to be a bed of pine branches. While she worked she spoke softly as though to another person. Beside the bed lay a coat which I realized to my surprise was mine.
She wore a blue sweat shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. I noticed the curve of her small buttocks as she bent. Even as I thought of how meager they were compared to Gunilla’s, I was at the same time excited by their slenderness.
I was about to climb down when something she was saying stopped me,
“…and in a minute, dear, I’ll have it finished so you can lay down and rest. Please be patient, dearest Lars- just one more moment now…” and she stepped over to the coat and patted the shoulder tenderly. The motion pulled the sweat shirt up exposing half her back. I watched the play of sun on the white skin, the narrow waist. The thin form of her back, whiteness, again!
She placed the last couple of branches, adjusted them a little. Then she picked up the coat carefully and laid it on the bed much as one would a person. “There, my only darling, now you can rest after your long day’s work.” She bent and kissed the coat. Then: “Are you comfortable, my dearest? Oh Lars, I do so hope I am being a good wife for you.” Her face was very concerned. “Do you know that last night while you slept I prayed to God to protect you and to teach me to be worthy of being your wife! You know how completely I adore you, Lars, and how I only live to serve you.”
She looked so pleadingly at the coat that my throat caught. Her face was a study in innocent purity and supplication and I was as deeply moved as I was astounded. Then I suddenly remembered Gunilla’s voice telling me how I would possess and violate this child. Suddenly I heard both voices simultaneously, the one all purity and holiness, and the other full of the earthy wisdom of indecency and the wild wonderful quality of corruption.
I kept watching the revelation of flesh each time she bent; her form was so thin-so slight, accentuating the narrow ridge of her spine. I noticed how the jeans pulled down as she bent exposing the top of her pink panties. Something about her thin little legs where the jeans were rolled up. The thing began: a driving, urgent sense of power-a burning to possess and to alter her-
Louise had kneeled down beside the coat and with one hand on the sleeve of the coat and the other on her breast was saying: “I swear now in thy name and in the name of Jesus our Savior to remain always and only yours: your faithful wife, your servant, your plaything…”
(And in my head that other voice: “Little Louise will be your slave, your toy…”)
“…and I will be and do anything and everything for you… all that you want of me…” (“She will do all the fine perverted things you have hidden inside you that you don’t even know about yet…”) ”…Forever I will cleave only unto you, in purity, my darling, my angel, my God!”
Tears came to her eyes as she prayed, yet inside my stomach the panthers were at me again. The double image I had of her purity superimposed on the world of Gunilla was an incredible indecency, and the effect of it was a new madness in my blood. Strange thoughts, fantasies, images danced in my brain and I looked down with a hunger and ravening that violated every icon in the temple of my poor little sister… But that was it! That was what it was in me-the incredible sense of violation! The purity smudged and perverted, taken advantage of and exploited, lustily, hungrily, finally turned all liquid with sensualness and desire: the final corruption of innocence… all this burning in my startled brain and the need in my bowels and the fever like waves of madness…
Below, Louise had bowed her head and was murmuring soft prayers to herself. It suddenly broke me. And I was crying-crying at my own perfidy and ugliness, yet knowing that both were me. The awareness and admiration for her purity, but also always the hunger, the iron bells in my brain, the rising realization of power, perversion, ecstasy. The deers in me, and the lions. This was my life! And this was the Louise I was going to love. And use.
Chapter Five
I walked home that night with strongly mixed emotions. What is right? What is wrong? I had to know before these struggles tore me to pieces. I did not want to think about anything, but I knew that watching Louise had profoundly affected me. I could not shake it and wanted to be alone to work it out.
So when I started down the hall and Gunilla, who was alone in the living room, beckoned me to join her, I just shook my head and kept walking. I went to my room, selected the best suit I had, took it to the bathroom and washed and dressed for dinner.
When I returned to my room Gunilla was waiting for me. She was sitting in my arm chair, leaning back with her legs crossed so that her soft full skirt was pulled above her knees. I started at seeing her, then just stared at the revelation of beautiful flesh. It was tanned golden, like her face, and it was so exciting that my breath caught and my mouth gaped. I couldn’t move. The knee was so well formed, like Mother’s, and the fine long legs. I began to shiver all over. I looked above the knees to the soft, forbidden flesh-the flesh I had felt but never seen, and I started forward with the impossible idea of trying to see more.
As though anticipating my desire, Gunilla uncrossed her legs, and opened them slightly towards me-. Inside my head was ringing. It, inflamed me. I was standing looking wildly at her as she calmly appraised me with her clear eyes and gradually separated her thighs more and more till I thought I could just almost see,.. And then suddenly she closed them, pulling her skirt down to cover her legs with the same motion. This was accompanied by the same giggle that had tormented me last night.
“You want to see, don’t you, brother?” she mocked. “Dinner is almost ready, but afterwards Mother and Father are going to Stockholm to the opera and won’t be back till tomorrow. I’ll come and see you at eleven, and we can ride further into The Arabian Nights.” She laughed again, and started out.
But then I remembered my resolution.
“Uh-Nilla, that is-.” She stopped and waited, still grinning.
“Well-I don’t think we-uh-well that we-uh-that we should,” I finally gasped out.
“You silly little idiot!” Her laughter rang out strong. “Now don’t be afraid, Lars dear. Like I told you, everything will be beautiful. Now not a word more out of you, hear! Tonight at eleven!” And though I tried to object, the words didn’t come and she was gone.
Dinner was uneventful. I excused myself early saying I wanted to lie down. After half an hour there was a
