The Musee d’Erotisme is on Boulevard Clichy, roughly half way between my old apartment in Batignolles and Lucien's house in Montmartre. I first came here almost ten years ago, fired with enthusiasm by his wife, Amy.
After dinner that first evening, when all the guests had left and Lucien was snoring loudly on the sofa, we sat together in the darkness. Amy said she’d got some gear from Morocco that we should try, to end the evening on a high. Amy raised her eyebrows but I didn’t protest. Soon I could feel myself floating across the room towards her. I remember Amy asking if I wanted to see her photos – she’d been a glamour model, she said, that was how she’d met Lucien.
The photos were quite explicit, one could say erotic. They were mostly taken by Lucien, she told me. That’s why I now refer to her as Erotic Amy. That, and the denouement to our evening, when she became an Erotic Amie. With Lucien dozing less than ten feet away, Amy casually asked if he was screwing me. When I denied it she just tossed her mane of hair and smiled.
I didn’t think so. In fact, something tells me you’re not that bothered by him.
What are you suggesting?
You rather enjoyed my photos, I could tell.
She was staring at me, and her hair shimmered in the dim light coming through the open window.
Well, what do we do now?
At the first touch of her hand on my hair, I felt a tingle of excitement. She was so beautiful, and very gentle. My mind flashed back to my only previous sexual encounter with a female.
You’re very beautiful, she whispered.
Then Amy’s tongue was pushing deep into my mouth, and her hands stroking my thigh. I responded, despite myself. She’d opened a door that had been closed too long. Suddenly I was outside myself, watching as I gave in to long suppressed desires. Her lips were on my own, and our arms entangled as we rolled over.
Later we sat watching the dawn enfold over the city, a gorgeous sight from the hill of Montmartre. Amy passed me a gauloise and exhaled.
You weren’t joking last night, were you she said. You really killed your family.
I coughed on the nicotine, choked on her words.
In a manner of speaking, I said. I mean, if it wasn’t for me, they’d still be around.
You want to tell me about it?
I nodded. Not now, but maybe sometime. When I can trust you.
She laughed.
We just made love, Sandrine. You’ve given me your body. Now I want your soul.
Her eyes flashed. I’d seen that look before somewhere. Why do I always attract crazy people?
But I was intoxicated. I fell under her spell, for a while anyway.
