Appointment in Paris (Lesbian Pulp Fiction) by Fay Adams

Author:Fay Adams [Adams, Fay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Digital Vintage Pulps
Published: 2011-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

He had said eight o'clock. It was not far away, off the Quai de Passy, and Havoc walked through another memorable spring evening. The day was ripening toward a golden sunset. The street seemed to be spinning like a golden top as the lowering rays turned the moving dust into a sun-colored mist. For Havoc all the noisy, dirty-avenue lay under a strange perverse enchantment. The rush of the traffic was like the silver gushing of fountains. The acrid odor of exhaust pipes and used gasoline was blended with the scent of sun-struck dust and the haunting fragrance of tree blossoms and the unmistakable damp river smell so reminiscent of last night. All Havoc's senses were keener than ever before. She was sharply conscious, as she swung along, of the fine co-ordination of her own muscles and the remarkable smoothness of her own skin. In spite of the clack of her heels on the hard, literal pavement, she felt as though she were walking on bubbles, or upside down on that orange-flaming sky over all those celestial hills of little bright clouds. This fancy stretched her mouth into a quivering smile. This was the magic time of evening, of the seasons, of her life, Havoc suddenly realized—and how miraculous that all three coincided! At this precise instant day trembled into evening, spring into summer, and her own girlhood into womanhood. This was the edge of the past and the precipice of the future. It was the moment of change and going forward.

She was not afraid. She was not going to be afraid. She was exhilarated.

Would she even know him? Havoc asked herself, in abrupt panic.

It was a poor apartment house with a dark hallway, not very clean and with no elevator. The concierge's pallid face stared out at her. Taken by surprise, Havoc stammered, "Monsieur Bonnefous?"

The concierge answered, "Third floor, right." Her face hung like a bogey mask in the gloom, staring after Havoc with an expression of shock and avid curiosity. Havoc did not know how much like a schoolgirl she looked. She did know, from the woman's manner, that she was not the first girl to come to that apartment.

She stood a moment gathering courage before that closed door. Then she just touched the bell.

He was there—the glowing dark eyes, the teasing dents at the corners of his mouth, the easy, lithe body. It was all right!

She did not meet his gaze quite full on. He took both her hands. "So you did come. You are real."

She smiled at him rather shakily, moistening her lips.

"I have a special dinner for you, and I hoped...but I did not really expect...First you must make the tour of my apartment."

Havoc gravely took off her yellow sailor hat and yellow chamois gloves. She followed him about, looking at all he showed her.

The apartment consisted of two rooms and a hole-in-the-wall kitchen. "I shut out all the daylight and lighted the night lights, because our first meeting by day is going to be a terrible risk.

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