Read Online Visions of Isabelle by William Bayer - Free Book Online

set for ten o'clock, and it was late for her to be hurrying through the streets. Her stomach quavered with fear, but she was excited, too–the anticipation of pleasure had been building the whole day. She was curious as to who their partner would be, and embarrassed already over the introductions, the small talk, the preliminary flirting, the first stripping off of clothes. She expected pleasure–she had never been disappointed by Archivir in that. But there was something unsavory in their arrangement that gave her pause. She decided, finally, that she feared the experience only because she'd never read of it in a book. A man loving a woman–that was a common literary theme. But three together in one bed–she assumed it happened but was something no author dared describe.
    The concierge gave her a knowledgeable look, tinged, she thought, with a supercilious smile. The embers of the lobby fireplace provided the only light on the glittering stairs. She mounted them slowly, dreamily, feeling that she was ascending to her doom. At the chapel's double doors she paused a moment to regain her breath. Then with her face as serene as she could contrive, she gave the wood a forceful knock.
    She waited a long while before Archivir opened the door. He grinned, then showed her a scene that had nothing in common with what she'd harbored in her mind. The girl of the café, the one with the thick black curls, was seated on the large divan wearing one of Archivir's gowns. He was in a loose Arabian robe, open from neck to waist.
    It took her a moment to understand what was wrong. Everything in her mind had been the other way around. She and Archivir were to be together first; later a stranger was to come. The black-haired girl smiled, looked her up and down, and suddenly Isabelle was furious–she felt she was being inspected like a piece of meat. In her fury she grasped the significance of their clothes: the girl had been there for hours; Archivir had already had her in his bed. She was pondering this, wondering what to do, when she was surprised again by a shrill and piercing laugh. The girl, to whom she'd not yet been introduced, was doubled over, choking on her mirth.
    "What's wrong?" Archivir demanded. "What the hell's so funny?"
    "But she–she's–" The words were cut by another convulsion. The girl was wiping tears from her eyes. Her mouth was edged by a rim of foam. The laughter went on, out of control.
    "This is preposterous!" Isabelle turned on Archivir.
    "Please, both of you, stay calm..."
    "Yes Yes! Preposterous! So it is! Indeed it is!" The girl finally stopped laughing, wriggled in her seat.
    "Well, what's so funny?" asked Archivir.
    "But, my dear, she's so young. So incredibly young. How could you think...? She's nothing but a child." A look of amused pity swept her 'face. "But don't you see what I mean? My God, Rehid, you must be insane. We can't do a thing like that with her. If she isn't still a virgin, then she was when you skewered her last week. Look at her! She's absurd! She looks like a boy! I may be a hard old dyke, but this little piece is not for me."
    She smiled again at Isabelle with a combination of pity and scorn. Archivir, too, was looking at her closely. They were both undressing her, deflowering her with their eyes.
    "Yes," said Archivir, finally. "Yes. Of course. You're right."
    "Well, of course, darling." And then to Isabelle: "Poor child. Can you imagine?"
    "Who are you?" Isabelle demanded.
    "Now don't be rude, dear. You were still in pigtails when I was fucking Swedish nuns. If anyone should be angry, it should be me. I came here, after all, in excellent faith."
    Isabelle looked to Archivir. She could not believe he was allowing this woman to speak to her this way.
    "Is this–this creature–is she a whore?"
    "How dare you!"
    "I think she's a whore. I think you wanted us to do it with a whore!" She was screaming at Archivir, but he looked away.
    "Now just a minute,