Read Online All the Way by Marie Darrieussecq - Free Book Online Page A

you say go out for kissing.
    They’re going past Gym Tonic. Past the Cheap Carpet outlet. Past the junkyard and the gravel pit. The out is becoming gigantic, the misunderstanding endless, the out spreads from the edge of the village, encompasses the silos, the forest and the hills, and unfolds onto the black sky and the horizon.
    They’re walking, he’s in front, she’s behind. The fields disappear under a grey fog that sweeps over the road and swirls around their calves, as if the planet was vaporising and then scattering into the night. Whoo ooh from the owls in the black trees. The green and pink sign of Milord’s comes into view, the top hat and cane in neon lights.
    She trots up to him quickly, sweating, whoo ooh . Should she fall into his arms? Or feign an illness, low blood sugar? The Milord shakes his cane and his hat. Some sort of creature is rustling the shrubbery, a fox, perhaps? She grabs his arm, he trips, they bump into each other. ‘Tewwibly sowwy, you all wight?’
    She gives up. We might as well go to Milord’s . She makes up her mind for both of them. It’s as if she’s done this all her life, like smoking.
    Girls get in for free, but not boys. She lets him sort that out and orders a Pineapple-Malibu cocktail. Hardly anyone there. A dance floor, empty, and a disco ball turning.
    He orders. One beer , she translates. It’s exhilarating to be in a nightclub. And to be with someone, to be able to let the three guys there think she’s going out with this stud. The music is super-loud. She has a bit of a dance, glass in hand, sipping on the straw. The dance-floor tiles light up like in the ‘Billie Jean’ video.
    â€˜What’s your name?’
    Charlotte .
    Her favourite first name for the last few weeks.
    â€˜Whaa…?’
    Charlotte!
    From a song she loves. In the school toilets she teases her hair like Michael Jackson. And Nathalie draws under her eyes with black kohl, just like he does.
    â€˜Tricky name! Where are you from?’
    From Clèves!
    â€˜And you’re not at the carnival?’
    It sucks!
    â€˜The carnival sucks?’
    Yeah, it sucks!
    That makes him laugh, she doesn’t know why.
    He must be about twenty-five. Pretty ordinary (her mother would say). But muscly under his wolf-print T-shirt (Monsieur Bihotz has the same one). He’s a fireman, he yells, he and a couple of workmates are having a bucks’ night.
    â€˜I’m getting married tomorrow!’
    Congratulations!
    Having Terry over there, at the bar, gives her a feel for repartee. Or at least for an appropriate response.
    â€˜Is that your guy?’
    No!
    The fireman shoots a final glance at the English boy and yells again, at the top of his voice, ‘Gimme a kiss, to celebrate?’
    That’s it. It’s going to happen. As long as the nightclub doesn’t burn down, as long as Monsieur Bihotz doesn’t turn up wielding an axe, as long as her father doesn’t land in the middle of the dance floor, finally, she is going to go out with a guy .
    And maybe more than that, maybe she’ll go further, because two hands grab her buttocks, pull her against the wolf on the T-shirt, two hands hoist her up firmly, not bothering about the rhythm of the music anymore, a bigger and bigger face is pushing down at her, the wily wolf and the mouth on mouth, dry and hot, a bit bristly, she opens her mouth and the hands squeeze her and an amazing pressure radiates through her cunt, coursing through her buttocks and her groin, her mouth melting too, and her tongue penetrating the mouth of the huge body, which responds with a hard, pointed tongue, he’s not kissing the way she would like but who cares, the pressure fills her whole body and a hand lets go of her buttocks and slides under her T-shirt, the nipple on one breast is pinched and pulled, the enormous pressure stars to whirl, needs to become some other vibrant and shining thing and her own