Ardennian Boy by Wayne Gunn William Maltese

Author:Wayne Gunn William Maltese [William Maltese, Wayne Gunn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica/Historical Fiction
Publisher: MLR Press, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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PAUL

Arras-Paris-Pussemange: 8-9 July 1872

I GIVE CREDIT where credit is due. If Arthur was responsible for getting us into our predicament with law enforcement in Arras (and, certainly, he was), he gets credit for extracting us. He actually managed tears in his binge of consummate acting that, against all odds, convinced the presiding magistrate that Arthur isn't the derelict ragamuffin he appears but is, instead, a rustic youth, fallen on hard times, out to visit relatives in the big city, having merely stopped for a morning coffee and small talk with the insurance agent awaiting the Paris train. My role, of course, as mightily wronged innocent, arbitrarily arrested by the Arras gendarmes for merely having participated in idle conversation with a fellow train passenger at a station café, was made easier and more realistic once it was decided, by the power that be, that Arthur isn't a murderous anarchist who, after having strangled a Mr. Maurice (where is the incriminating body?), planted a bomb (where is the incriminating explosive?). I would be pleased by the eventual outcome—personal escort by the Arras police to second-class accommodations on the to-Paris train—especially considering all the dire possible alternative consequences, if (and it's a mighty big if)....

“You're pissed off,” Arthur surmises; the policemen exited as soon as the train is in motion and we are assumed on our way to where we said we were headed and to where we've been instructed, by the magistrate, to head; innocents we might be, but what trouble might we have caused if left in Arras, the train to Paris missed? “How disappointing that you don't bask in the excitement of what was, what is, but insist upon mulling only upon the what-could-have-been-if.” He shakes his head in dismay. “It has turned out perfectly, has it not?"

“Has it? Are we not headed back to Paris? To Mathilde in Paris. To my in-laws in Paris. Or am I mistaken as regards that not being Belgium countryside speeding by outside?"

“Jesus, Paul, there are more ways than one to cross between two countries. If we've not made it into Belgium via Arras, who's to say that's the end of the matter? Certainly, there's a long enough border so that if we don't cross at one juncture, we're not prevented from crossing at another."

“You know what really pisses me off?” I challenge.

“That you weren't allowed jail time in order to experience rape by a fellow prisoner's big cock?"

“You were so fucking quick to assume a presentable aura of respectability for that damned Arras magistrate, but could you do the same when I asked you to do it as a joke on my father-in-law?"

“What need to pretend with your father-in-law?” he says. “It wasn't needed to get you here on this train with me, mine and mine alone. Had I not pulled the wool over the magistrate's eyes, however, neither of us would be here now. Or don't you see the difference?"

“We are on a train back to Paris,” I remind, and admittedly pout.

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