The Sexual Life of Catherine M. (Serpent's Tail Classics) by Catherine Millet

Author:Catherine Millet
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Profile Books
Published: 2012-07-09T22:00:00+00:00

3. Confined space

A variety of havens

My explorations of exclusive locations in the outskirts of Paris not only filled me with the euphoria of wide open spaces, but also as a corollary, that of a game of hide and seek. In an open street, a stone’s throw from the Soviet Embassy, I once found refuge in the back of a Ville de Paris van, because one of the group was a municipal employee. The men came in one by one. I knelt to suck them off or lay down and curled to one side the better to present my arse to facilitate their hold. Nothing had been provided in the back of the van to soften the ridged surface of the metal floor and each jolt was quite painful. But I could have hidden there all night, not stiffened so much because of my uncomfortable position but rather dulled and lulled by the atmosphere of my unlikely haven where I curled up and sunk, like in those opaque dreams, watching myself go deeper. I didn’t have to move: the rear door was raised at regular intervals, the man jumped out and a new silhouette slipped in. In that creaky little vehicle I was like a motionless idol accepting the homage of a suite of followers. I was as I had imagined myself in some of my fantasies, like – for example – the one when I’m in a concierge’s room with only my arse protruding from the curtain which hides the bed offered to a long succession of men who stamp their feet and yell abuse at each other. A 2CV van is well worth a concierge’s room. But I left my metal baldaquin before they had all done. Éric, who had been keeping watch, explained the following day: on the one hand, the men were in such a state of excitement that they were beginning to get aggressive, and on the other hand because the van was threatening to keel over…

The cabs of articulated trucks suit much better, mainly because they are equipped with a couchette. I can never catch sight of the girls waiting by the side of the road, their bodies covered in a patchwork of skimpy accessories, a balcony bra glinting above the low-cut top which doesn’t quite meet the miniskirt from under which a suspender belt protrudes … I can never see them without thinking of the little jump they have to make on one foot to reach for the step to get up to the customer who has stopped his vehicle. I am familiar with that impulsion the body needs and the brief subsequent ascension which carries that body up to two solid blokes who greet it delicately, accustomed as they are to limit their movements in the restricted cab. My good fortune was not having to name a price or to wait out in the cold. I didn’t spend much on my outfit either. I would wear just a coat or a raincoat which would fall open like a dressing-gown on the way up.

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