Chapter 9

Olivia tried to forget the problem with her young guest and dispel the malaise it brought about by working as hard as she could. Since it was still Sunday she refused to work in the vineyard so instead she found herself in the barn, brushing out Goliath's coat so hard that the poor horse was bound for baldness if she didn't smooth her strokes.

Where is he? she wondered anxiously despite the fact that she tried her damnedest to ignore it. Why do I even care? Étienne is right. He's strong enough to take care of himself. He doesn't need me

Placing the brush down, she patted Goliath for atonement of her harsh grooming. From her front pocket she removed the lumps of sugar she put there before leaving the house and fed them to the Clysdale.

Damn the lithe white male who, although was not a real ghost, haunted her house and heart like one! Damn the morning she ever found him beneath her olive tree! Why did she have to stumble upon him there?

Laroux went home an hour or two ago, even though she wished he'd remained for her comfort's sake. Again, she noted that she needed to stop using Étienne as a crutch and learn to stand on her own two feet. She needed to meet this problem head-on for only she could solve it.

I'll solve it all right, she thought. Things will be different between me and him from now on.

Finished with Goliath, she returned the horse to the barn for the night, offered him another sugar cube then went into the house to find something to keep her mind occupied. Once there she stopped in the kitchen and looked around. Lost inside the walls in which she lived, a feeling of sheer vulnerability overwhelmed her. It was different, just as she intended for it to be, but didn't expect it to happen so quickly. It was never emptier in the house.

"I suppose I should stop feeling sorry for myself and fill my home with the presence of the Lord," she said aloud to no-one.

Deciding to make the best of the loneliness she felt, she went into the lounge to retrieve her Bible, came back out to pour herself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher in the refrigerator then went out to sit at the table on the porch. Shamefully, she knew that this was a subconscious excuse to make her wait for the albino.

The Lord will console me! I don't need him! I don't need him!

Dusk was approaching rapidly and the albino still had not made an appearance. She detested that she cared like this and desperately did not want to. Not any more. Her lemonade was finished twice over and she already skimmed over rather than read a few books of the Bible that she hadn't even intended to. Made no difference any way. She'd read them several times before already and knew them by heart. The same heart the albino was breaking by not being at home.

Yet when she heard footsteps on the gravel leading up to the porch where she sat her eyes rolled up to verify without moving her head from the Bible in her lap. Indeed it was the albino. As relieved as she was, she also stewed in anger. Angry with him, angry with herself. She resisted the urge to speak to him, demand where he'd been and who he'd been with and needed to practically bite her tongue to silence herself.

The footsteps stopped close by, and her eyes dropped again to the Good Book and she pretended to read. He stood quietly before her, waiting her to say something or at least acknowledge his attendance.

Ignore him, Olivia! Just ignore him!

But it was apparent that he would not be overlooked.

"Olivia? he addressed, his voice sounding strained.

She still did not look up. She wanted to but would not allow herself.

"Olivia?" he called a second time, more compellingly.

Something was not right with his voice and she detected it immediately.

"Mmmm?" she responded, trying her damnedest to discount him.

He paused as if either thinking of something to say or waiting her to say something to him. Instead he released a long sigh and continued to wait. For what, she did not know. The prospect intrigued her enough to glance up from the Bible and gaze upon his pale saturnine features. He certainly looked guilty of something.

"You are reading your Bible," he stated. Not inquired. Stated. And he stated in a cold manner.

This made her testy.

"Yes," she snipped in a manner that made her sound more short than she actually was. Clearing her throat, she then continued, "You know I enjoy it."

"I do."

That was his response. Nothing more. He stood his ground, at the first step up to the porch where she sat, looking at her in such a way that her irritation softened slightly.

Something's wrong and he doesn't know how to tell me, she inferred. I won't baby him. If he wants me to know he must tell me on his own. He has to come to me. I can't involve myself voluntarily or he will never want me.

"I will be inside," he announced.

She remained wilfully unresponsive and watched as he climbed the steps then sauntered passed her and, without another word, entered the house.

Woman's intuition: he was definitely as guilty as sin of something. She just knew it.

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The albino went straight into his bedroom where he shut and locked the door. By the time this was completed, he was already a frustrated, livid, weeping mess. He paced the floor like a hound anxious for the hunt, his head bowed in disgrace for what he allowed to happen. He wished there was something he could lash out at with his fist but he did not want to damage anything that belonged to Olivia. Already enough damage had been wrought.

With no other option, he resorted to striking the mattress of the bed with a closed fist over and over again to relieve his anguish. The mattress continued to be a makeshift punching bag untill his energy was spent. Stretching back across the bed, he covered his face with his hand then exhaled every ounce of oxygen from his lungs.

I am so sorry, Olivia! I do not deserve to be here in your home! Not after what I have done!

He remained reclined on the bed, calming himself down slowly with intakes of deep breaths and measured releases. Gradually his composure returned and for a brief length of time he reached a form of nirvana where he was subject to complete sensory deprivation. Then his sins returned to him in vivid colour.

Let me show you what I can do. How good it feels to be touched.

To say that the albino had been perturbed by the proceedings that occurred after this assertion had been uttered was an understatement. The woman leant down and engulfed him with her mouth, working his flesh expertly and without prejudice to its stark whiteness.

The memory of her performance caused him to groan and he felt himself growing tight against his inseam. Reaching down, he unfastened his jeans and freed his hardened sex to set about sensuously rubbing it, attempting to mimic the motions of Lisette's experienced mouth. His strokes quickened while he thought of what the whore had done, how marvellous it felt; he imagined her doing things other than sucking him off. As he pleasured himself, the sensations and memories intensified untill he was bucking his hips upward, imagining himself fucking Lisette even though they had not gone that far. He had to stifle a cry by biting his bottom lip when he came hard into his palm, his back arching in ecstasy off the bed.

Fantasies never bothered him, he'd acquired many of them about the lady of the vineyard ever since he arrived at the vineyard, but they had always been fantasies solely about Olivia. Now they were about a different woman and, shamefully, at the height of his climax, Lisette's face altered into that of his true heart's desire. This disturbed the albino. Perhaps it was because of his remorse for what transpired between him and Lisette. Maybe it was because he felt like he wrongfully used Lisette in place of Olivia, an injustice against both women. Whatever it was, he did not like it.

"Baisez-moi," he muttered disparagingly, wiping his semen off onto a leg of his jeans. "Je suis damné."

Rolling on to his side, his mind, descending from its sexual zenith, thought of what happened after he spilt himself down Lisette's wanton throat.

The whore pulled away from him as he sprawled over the sofa, gasping. Catching his breath again, he watched as she wiped him from her mouth, smiling slyly.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she inquired.

His dry, tightened throat only enabled him to shake his head.

"Why do you suppose that Olivia believes it sinfull to take care of a man in such a way? Men have needs, after all, and what good is a woman who cannot please her man by fulfilling his needs?"

The dumbfounded albino did not respond but sat straight from the slouch he was left in and stared intently at the woman before him.

"I think it's selfish of Olivia to not…help you out. What a pity that you are left to care for your own needs. You must masturbate an awful lot, don't you? That is a far greater sin than intercourse, which is what comes natural. In spite of what Olivia's little black book tells her, it is human instinct to have sex. None of us would be here if no-one had sex. All of the animals do it and it is acceptable. Why would it be wrong for us to enjoy the flesh?"

"We are intended to know better," he answered, regretting that his voice was weaker than he wanted it to be.

Lisette only offered a smile that intimidated the albino despite his colossal size. He was only able to remain immobile and watch as the supple young woman unbuttoned the blouse she was wearing, baring her breasts for him. His eyes immediately centred there and he knew she relished his unintentional reaction.

"Do you know what's defined as 'being better'?" she coaxed. "Is there a true right or wrong when there is only natural instinct? Go ahead. Touch me."

"No…"

"Touch me."

Her voice was breathless, seductive and he gulped and abjured from her enticement.

"I want Olivia," he told her, voice strained.

"You can't have Olivia. She doesn't want you. But I do."

He tried to back away as Lisette moved forward but found himself wanting of space. He was trapped but she stopped before their bodies touched. Her heat radiated across his skin, she was so close to him. Close enough for him to feel her touch without actually touching her. She drew near to his ear and whispered: "Touch me!"

Then he caved. In a blind haze, the albino found his hands cupping her ample breasts, roughly kneading them within his calloused palms, his fingers twisting her nipples. At the same time, he kissed her aggressively, his tongue invading her mouth. Mad with lust, he swept her up into a powerfull arm then lowered her back on the sofa, pinning her down with his heavy weight.

"Yes!" she sighed as he trailled his tongue down her chin, over her throat and to her breasts. "Oh, yes! This is what you've been missing!"

Lisette's legs wrapped around his waist and she squirmed lewdly beneath him as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, clenching and grinding it between his teeth. She arched up and groaned, pushing her pelvis up against his hardened sex. The sudden friction of their loins further inflamed his arduous passion and, on a blind whim, he tore at her skirts, ripping the fabric and wisked the shredded material to the floor. Lisette's fingers were already desperately clawing at his bulging bicep, opening scratches and he grinded his hips into hers in response.

"You mean to taunt me, harlot?" he hissed. "You mean to rouse my loins and boil my blood with desire?"

"Yes! If your blood boils then extinguish the fire with me. What is wrong with that? You need it!"

"You do not know what you are tapping into, slut!"

"I know very well what I'm doing! I know what's in the hearts of men! You might look like a ghost but you are a man and men always think with their flesh!"

For some reason this argument snapped the albino back to his senses. If he continued to maul this woman and ignore how he felt about Olivia then she was correct about male behaviour. Men would be no better than the animals; at least he would be no better.

He pried himself off of her and sat back to gather his wits. Lisette was hot on his trail, sitting up with him and immediately plastered her body alongside his, reaching for his erection again.

"No," he murmured firmly, pushing her hand away.

"What?"

"I cannot do this, Lisette. I will not do it. I love Olivia and I respect her."

"Olivia is not here. And you may love her but she does not reciprocate your feelings. That's why you came here to see me."

"I do not know why I came here. That is the honest truth. But I have already done too much."

He stood, pulled up his jeans and fastened them back up.

"Where are you going?" she questioned.

"Home. Where I belong."

"You are home, my sweet. I told you. Whores and albinos are meant for each other. We are both outcasts of society." When she saw that he wasn't listening, she told him: "You'll be back. I know you will."

He said nothing but looked back at her over his shoulder before left the house.

Coming across Olivia sitting on the porch reading the Bible disappointed him. In his absence she went right back to the failsafe that she always went to. Damned her religion and her god!

The one thing that stayed his hand from reaching out and tearing the cursed thing from her lap and to the ground was the fact that he could smell Lisette on his person, instilling fear in him that perhaps Olivia could sniff out a rival female on him too. The less she knew about the situation, the better. When attempt at conversation failled, he retreated into the house and to his room.

His hate for Olivia's god grew with each passing moment.

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Upon seeing her spectral guest relief not merely washed over Olivia but passed straight through her like a ghost in its own right, leaving as quickly as it came. It was replaced almost immediately with wrath. She noticed the scratch marks across his upper arm and knew if she didn't look back at her Bible she would attack him and claw his red eyes out in rage.

Hell hath no fury indeed.

Soon after he disappeared, she closed her Bible then her eyes and seethed in her irritated fury.

How dare he violate her trust in this way?

Then it hit her. What did she expect from this young man? Did she have feelings for him or not? If she did, could she trust herself to get close enough to him to develop an intimate relationship after all she'd been through? Was he worthy of her affections? Was any man worthy? Was it worth taking a risk? How could she expect him to want her if she wasn't sure if she wanted him? With her giving him mixed signals it was logical that he would move on to the next person and she had no right to be mad at him for doing so.

She meditated for a few moments in effort to calm down enough so she could go into the house. Too upset to eat, she went into the lounge, hoping to actually locate him there so she could expiate her offences. Alas, he was nowhere to be found which meant he was probably in his own room or taking a shower. Hearing no running water, she eliminated the shower and decided to not bother him while he was in his room.

She went back to the lounge where instead of sitting in her customary chair she chose to lie on the sofa in the dark. Not inclined to snap on a light, she laid in the dark as she did not want to be seen by the albino should he feel compelled to wander out of his room for anything. Reaching up, she pulled the afghan draped across it down over her body, snuggling beneath it. But when she drew it up near her face to her dismay she found the albino's scent on it.

Great. I can't get away from him no matter how hard I try!

Yet she did not try hard enough for she only nestled deeper into the afghan. She knew she was lying to herself when she considered that it was for the sake of warmth. It was to get indirectly intimate with him.

Life simply was unfair, she come to the decision. No matter how hard she tried to get him off her mind at any given point there was something that brought him back. She wondered if it was such a wise choice to keep him here. Did she really need the help around the vineyard that much? Of course she did. But there were others in the village or around the countryside who needed the work just as badly. Someone else could be found and the albino put back out on the streets within a few days.

What is the matter with you, Olivia? she scorned herself. You cannot do that to him! You don't know what's going on! Ask him and see what he tells you! It would be cruel and unchristian for you to put him out on a suspicion! For all you know he did nothing wrong!

But she fell victim to her own insecurity and softly began to cry, using the afghan to muffle her sobbing.

"Olivia?" the albino's voice called softly and even more gently. "Why are you crying? What happened?"

She instantly sat up, tossed the afghan aside and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes as discreetly as possible.

"What are you talking about?" she tried to deny. "I'm not crying."

"I heard you." Then his stark alabaster form appeared crouching before her, a blaring contrast in the darkness. He reached out to touch her face where her flesh was still damp with the trail of tears. "I heard you."

Tell him a lie! Don't let him know the truth! He can't know the truth!

Her brow furrowed as she thought hard and chose her words carefully.

"I, ah, I got news that one of my friends died today," she feinted, gratefull for the dark or else she felt that he could see through her façade. She was never a good liar.

This lie worked in her favour, however, and she saw the genuine concern expressed on his handsome countenance.

"Olivia!" he breathed. "I am so very sorry!"

Shocked by his reaction, she nodded. Then he surprised her further by embracing her dearly.

"My condolences, mon amour."

Trying to be civil and ignore her knowledge of the marks on his arm, she pressed against him and was welcomed by the same scent that was on the afghan except stronger. Of course it was stronger, she reasoned, he was its source.

"Thanks," she muttered, drinking in his warmth and masculine outdoorsy scent.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Ask him! she demanded of herself. Ask!

"No, I don't think so. I'd just like to be alone. Where were you, any way?"

"In my room. I was coming in here to get another book to read."

"No, I didn't mean now. I meant earlier. Where did you go today?"

She felt his lithe muscles tense and anticipated his response.

"I took a walk," he confessed.

"You did? Off of vineyard property?"

"Oui."

"Back to that secret thinking place you go to?"

"Non, amour. I meant to stay around here but I found myself walking farther and farther away."

"And where did you end up?"

"In town."

"On your own? You walked into town on your own? After the ill treatment you received when we went there together?"

His red eyes blazed in the darkness.

"If it has gone unnoticed by you," he said, "I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I have done so ever since I was seven years old."

Pulling from his arms, she retorted: "Yes, of course. Silly me to think differently."

"No, Olivia. I like when you worry about me."

She was puzzled at that development.

"You do?"

"Of course. Everyone needs someone to care about them. No-one else has ever cared about me. No-one except my mother."

Guilt spread across her conscious like a wildfire over petrol.

"Right," she said softly. "Sorry."

"Make no apologies to me."

He traced his thumb over her fluttering eye lid then kissed her there, making her smile. An irrefutable tension settled between them.

"Are you going to be all right?" he solicited. "I do not intend to disturb you when you wish to be alone."

"I'm fine. Take your book. Go back to your room. I'll be retiring early tonight. I want to be ready for work tomorrow."

"Do you think it a good idea for you to work tomorrow? Perhaps you should take the time off and get your thoughts back in order."

"Believe me, work is a good thing for me when I've got something on my mind."

He nodded his understanding and stood up to his full staggering height.

"Do not stay awake for too long," he advised.

"I won't."

She watched as he left the room without taking the book with him.

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The night was endless for the albino who woke up at every hour from his restless sleep. First he was too hot then he was too cold and either way his blankets were haphazardly across half of his body with the other half on the floor. Thoughts ran unchecked through his troubled mind:

Did Lisette tell Laroux what transpired between them? What would happen if she did? Would Laroux confront him about it tomorrow during work? Would he relay the story to Olivia? How would Olivia handle it? Would she throw him to the wolves or continue to allow him to work and live on the vineyard? Would it be the end of their friendship? Worse, would it mean the end of a relationship with her before he had the opportunity to begin one?

Thinking this way was not going to get him anywhere, he knew, particularly at this hour of night when nothing could be done to better it. Yet it was impossible to extract it from him his mind. Hour upon hour passed before he began drifting off into sleep when his alarm sounded to wake him up for the workday.

Hoping that Olivia was not yet awake, he lurched out of bed and into the bathroom to take a cold shower, hoping it would quell the morning wood. It didn't and he needed to use manual persuasion to stop it. Sadly, as he came he wasn't sure if he was thinking of Lisette or Olivia.

After he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went back into his room where he removed the towel and stood in front of the open bedroom window, letting the warm breeze wafting inside dry him off. Since the vineyard was in a rural area it was private enough that he had no worry of being viewed by anyone.

Father-Monstersnarled: How could they see you any way? . You're transparent! You're nothing! The ghost with the eyes of a devil! Nobody can see you! Nobody wants to see you

Fully dried, he strode to the bed and plopped face-down among its unmade blankets.

Lisette did not look through me. She looked at me.

With dread, his eyes fell on the scratch marks on his bicep. Boise-moi! Had Olivia noticed that? Was it why she acted indifferently to him last night? It was the only explanation for the sudden apathy she exhibited.

There was a knock on his door which sent him scrambling beneath the blankets as he told the caller to enter. He hoped Olivia for to enter to tell him that breakfast was ready but was instead surprised when Étienne Laroux poked his head in.

"I was expecting Olivia," the albino growled unhappily.

"Yes, she sent me to retrieve you for breakfast. Are you ill?"

"In a matter of speaking."

To the albino's dismay the handsome man stepped into his room, looked back to check if Olivia was around, then shut the door behind him.

And here it comes! the albino mused morosely.

"I know you went to see Lisette," Laroux did not disappoint by saying, his voice very low. The albino wanted to smack the glee off of his face. "Well? What did you think?"

"I have no comment."

"She's good, isn't she?"

"I did nothing and even if I did I would never tell."

Laroux smiled, playing along.

"Yes, gentlemen never kiss and tell, do they? I know she was satisfactory; you don't have to tell me. She said that you stomped off without saying good-bye. That was most unfavourable of you after she was mercifull enough to…"

"Keep your voice low!" the albino hissed covertly. "I do not need Olivia to find out!"

Laroux's spirits rose high enough that the man practically glowed.

"Ah! So something did happen! You wicked dog! I told you she's beautifull and indiscriminate!"

"I am not proud of my actions."

"Of course you aren't. Olivia has influenced your way of thinking. Before you came here did you have any inhibitions about sex? Of course not! How can anyone condemn you for doing what is natural?"

"Lisette said the same thing."

"That's because it's true. Don't let Olivia and her little black book pollute your thinking, my friend. If we as human beings weren't meant to have sex then it would not be in our nature to want it. We would have little or no sex drive. And, speaking frankly, that is all we as men think of, am I right? It's human instinct. Human nature."

The albino glared at Laroux with distrust. He was saying all of the right words that justified his actions and made him feel better about doing them but something was not right. He couldn't quite figure out what that could be.

"Should I tell Olivia that you'll be a while longer or should I tell her you are not well and won't be joining us today?"

The albino sighed and peered down at the portion of blanket clenched into his hand. Releasing it, he brought his eyes up to the scratches and nodded.

"Tell her that I am ill," he allowed. "I am running a fever of some sort."

Laroux smiled again. The albino enviously gazed upon the dark male beauty. With an olive complexion, shoulder length wavy black hair and finely chiselled masculine features, Étienne Laroux resembled some dark angel who descended from Heaven to tempt him with a plethora of sin.

"Be carefull with how many lies you tell," warned the sinister angel. "They do tighten an invisible noose about one's neck. But for you, I will tell her what you want as a favour to a new friend."

Dramatically and like a famous magician, Laroux waved and twisted his hand and that which had been empty was now filled with a shiny red apple. He extended the fruit to the albino who peered at it with scepticism.

"Take it," tempted Laroux. "The Americans say that an apple a day will keep the doctors away."

Annoyed, the albino took the apple from Laroux but more out of trying to shut him up than accepting a friendship.

"Good boy," Laroux praised. "Now I will go tell Olivia your message."

Laroux left the room and the albino stared at the fruit for several seconds before biting into it. Sweet and juicy it was but he couldn't help feeling that his acceptance of the apple was meant to seal the purchase of something more than friendship.

Author's Note: Surprise, surprise: I'd love to thank my faithfull LJ girls who (phoenixrising06, libriovolant, harmonylsc, blucrowe and lilyculy – who will play a larger role in this story very soon), in no particular order, inspire me and keep me going with their kind friendships. This small return to smut was for you, chicksters!