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Settling back against his headboard, his pen in hand, Antoine flipped his journal open to the next blank page. He determinedly focused his thoughts on the happenings of the day. Sighing deeply, he put pen to paper.
First, I must apologize for not taking the time to write my thoughts for the day out last night. So much has happened in the last two days. Both good and bad. We shall start out with the good.
Surprisingly, I awakened quite refreshed the next morning. My evening was filled with pleasant dreams of Leandra. Would you like to know what amazed me the most? None of them were sexual, sensual perhaps, here and there, but for the most part, quite innocent. A look here, a touch there. Long walks and endless talks. How odd, I had thought upon waking. No sooner had my feet touched the floor then I was thinking of her, even after a full night of her constantly in my thoughts. After a quick shower, I dressed and went in search of her.
She sat with Sophie in the garden. Mère apparently had served breakfast there. She so loved her garden, almost as much as she and Père loved the vineyards. "You slept late, dear brother," Sophie had greeted. I smiled and kissed her cheek before moving to Leandra and taking her hand, urging her to stand. The need to hold her was too great to ignore. She stood readily and moved into my arms as if she were reading my thoughts. Perhaps she felt the same need as I. At that point, I was beyond analyzing it. I just wanted to feel her body against mine. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms about my neck and just as our lips were about to meet, she whispered, "I missed you." I thought I might die and go to heaven right then and there. But if that were to happen, then I would miss the part where she molded herself against me as my hands roamed her back, bringing her as close to me as possible. The kiss was slow, drugging, and I felt its heat over every inch of my body. My tongue danced over her smooth, even teeth before entering her mouth to explore every inch. I felt her quivering within my embrace as the kiss continued, gaining intensity.
Only when Mère returned to the garden table and cleared her throat, did Leandra break away. The blush had returned to her cheeks, perhaps she was embarrassed that she had been so forward in front of my family. But the twinkle in Mère's eye showed only that she was enjoying our happiness and felt no disrespect.
After a leisurely breakfast, I suggested a walk through the vineyards and Leandra seemed to jump at the chance. Yes, an opportunity to be alone. Just the two of us. I made sure of that. Before Sophie could suggest that she tag along, I took Leandra's hand and led her from the colorful gardens.
Countless miles of vineyards, the smell of ripening grapes surrounding us, we walked under and around the vines that weaved throughout the trellises. As we walked, we talked about our childhoods, our hopes, and our dreams. She listened attentively as I spoke of the many years I spent roaming and frolicking the countryside with Sophie. How we worked the vineyards with our parents, side by side.
The hours flew by and it was nearing lunchtime, so I suggested we head back to the house. Of course, that was when the heavens opened up and the rain began. Laughing while we ran, I looked for one of the small lean-tos Père had placed in several locations throughout the vineyards. They are just small cubbies used to get out of the weather and, thankfully, there was one nearby. Père made sure fresh straw was laid every week, for just this kind of situation. Diving under its protection, we escaped the rain, although we were both soaked to the skin.
Wet skin and wet clothing combined with a slight chill in the air to cause Leandra to shiver. I'm not sure if it was the need to warm her or just the sight of her lower lip quivering that caused me to pull her into my embrace. She snuggled against me as if it was a natural thing to do. Although we have been friends for just a short while, it does seem natural to hold her. Not just hold her, but also kiss her. And, of course, that was exactly what I did. I love kissing her. Gently, passionately, heatedly, hungrily, intensely, fervently, tenderly...it doesn't matter. I would give anything to be able to kiss her for the rest of my life.
I will not go into detail, but under that small lean-to, I touched the greatest passion I have ever had the opportunity to in my life. Before Leandra, I had pleasured many women, but I had never made love to even one of them. That all changed with her. Making love. Those words held new meaning with her. It was all from love, I believe, at any rate. For her as well, there could be no other explanation.
She is not the type of woman to lay with a man without it meaning something. That was something she had expressed as we lay together afterward, basking in the afterglow of our euphoria. She had grown silent, sullen. When I asked her what was bothering her, she said she had never slept with a man after knowing him for such a short length of time. Also, that before me, she had only two other lovers. Neither relationship lasted for more than six months. She was afraid she had given me the impression that she was loose. If she only knew my past, she would not worry about me judging anyone, least of all her. I was not ready to tell her about my sordid life, I was sure it would chase her away. Instead, I held her closely and assured her that she was the purest soul I had ever had the fortune to meet. I whispered softly, admitting my developing feelings for her. Was it too soon? No, I do not think so. She had smiled through tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes, telling me she felt the same. I think I now know what it is like to float on a cloud. Yes, indeed, I do. What was our reaction to the news of our feelings for each other, you ask? We made love again. Slowly, passionately, until we both cried out with its intensity.
While we dressed, our clothing now dry, I told her something Mère had once shared with me. She had confessed that she was positive that I had been conceived during a downpour such as what Leandra and I had just escaped from, possibly in the very lean-to that she and I had just made love. Leandra had smiled charmingly and slid her arms around my waist. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me tenderly. She said it was an enchanting thought. She found it rather romantic to think that while they worked together to grow their vineyard, they created something even more wonderful out of their love. To think that she thought I was something wonderful is amazing. She is amazing. She has the power to make me feel things I can't remember ever feeling. And, she makes me feel as if I am worthy of her affection, when I know, deep down, that I am not.
We spent the remainder of the day helping the family with the details of the upcoming harvest festival. It was going to be a grand party. We lunched and, later, dined with the family. It was surprising when everyone decided to retire fairly early. It was as if the entire household was exhausted.
As with the previous night, Sophie walked with us to Leandra's room. Unlike the night before, I did not hesitate to sweep her into my arms and kiss her deeply. We whispered a saddened goodnight to each other; neither of us wanted to part. But after kissing Sophie's cheek, I headed off to my room, leaving the two of them at Leandra's door.
Now I come to the reason I did not take the time to put my thoughts and the happenings of that day down in my journal. As I settled into the bed, picking up my journal, I heard the door to my room open quietly. Looking up, I found Leandra slipping through the small opening and then close the door behind her. She smiled shyly as she padded across the room toward the bed. Removing her robe, she revealed that underneath it she wore a white, floor length cotton nightgown that clung to her curves deliciously. When she reached the side of the bed that I lay, she questioned me with her eyes as she draped her robe at the foot of the bed. I smiled and set the journal aside and lifted the coverlet to reveal that I was perfectly naked underneath. I'm not quite sure, but I do believe I saw her lick her lips just the slightest. I chuckled softly, but that ended quickly when she reached down and grabbed the hem of her nightgown and lifted it over her head. She hoisted herself up onto the bed and slid over me to lie beside me. Oh yes, she slid over me sensually, very sensually.
Yes, we made love again and again and yet again. I can't get enough of her. I've heard the term 'you complete me' used before, but now I know its true meaning. I cannot seem to imagine making love to anyone other than Leandra ever again. That, coming from the ultimate playboy [as Père has often times called me], is really saying something. I am starting to think I have fallen in love with Leandra and, perhaps, she with me. During our night of lovemaking, she called out my name [in a harsh, heated whisper, so as not to alert the entire household], speaking endearments and let slip the 'love' word once. But, in the heat of passion, it is not uncommon for people to say something they don't mean. So, although my hopes are high, I will not allow them to carry me away.
I awakened the next morning to the feel of the softest of kisses pressed to my neck. It was the most delightful feeling, waking with Leandra in my arms. It was as if I'd stood over an enchanted well, tossed in a coin, and made the wish of my dreams. Waking to find those sweet, angelic eyes gazing into mine can mean only that my wish had come true. And if I'm still dreaming, please don't wake me; because, heaven help me, I have fallen in love with this delicate creature.
She eased from the bed and donned her nightgown and robe. I asked her to stay a little while longer, but she insisted that she should leave, that my parents would not find her behavior appropriate in their household. I wanted to argue with her, but I knew as well as she, that my parents might take offense. In the short time that Leandra had been under their roof, they had taken a liking to her and I did not wish to jeopardize that budding relationship.
I watched her leave my room before I attempted to get up and around for the day. Yesterday I had made arrangements to meet with the workers in the distillery. Although I grew up learning all aspects of this business, if I realistically wanted to join my father in running it, I needed to relearn what I had forgotten.
While I spent the better part of the day touring the facilities, speaking with and learning from the employees, Leandra spent the day with Sophie and Mère taking care of last minute details for the party. Everyone was busy; not a body on the vast property was indolent. You could literally feel the excitement building in the air. Tomorrow's festivities would be energetic and full of life. We were all looking forward to the opportunity to come together and have a great time.
So, the day was going well, yes? It seemed so, and then all hell broke loose. After I returned to the house, I was heading down the hallway toward the stairs. I was on my way to my room to clean up, get the 'dust' off me, so to speak. I spotted Leandra coming down the stairs, reading a sheet of paper as she stepped slowly down each stair. She wasn't aware of my presence yet. She looked up suddenly when the voices of my parents carried from the study out into the hallway. The house was extremely quiet, therefore, their voices carried farther than usual. Mère had been saying something about how delighted she was to have Leandra in the house, whereas, Père was stating his reluctance to accept her. He said he feared the woman was just another of his foolish son's playthings, another client who was throwing money at him for a cheap sexual thrill. He amended that, saying his gigolo son lived expensively and, therefore, would charge expensively. Mère protested, saying that Leandra was a sweet girl and he should not say such things. Père countered by saying that a sweet girl would not be caught leaving his son's room during the early morning hours. Apparently, Père must have seen Leandra leave my room this morning.
It was then that Leandra released a shocked gasp and locked eyes with me. "A gigolo?" she questioned painfully, realizing what my parents were discussing. "You're a gigolo?" She turned and ran up the stairs, not giving me a chance to explain. My parents, having heard the commotion, came to the doorway to see Leandra fleeing, obviously upset. Mère scolded Père harshly with a "are you happy now?" I cast them both a stern look before I followed Leandra to her room. Not surprisingly, the door was locked. I could have easily obtained the key, but that would be unfair to Leandra. I knocked until my knuckles screamed for relief, but she would not let me in. I could hear her heart wrenching sobs, and, I'll be honest with you, I don't think I've ever felt so low in my life. Not even when I was imprisoned briefly for my former profession did I feel this awful. I realized then, it hurt me more for her to be unhappy because she meant more to me than I meant to myself. What a realization. Someone has come to mean more to me than anything or anyone else. Taking into consideration my more than selfish past, that was quite an achievement.
As if it were some kind of cosmic female comprehension, Sophie and Mère soon descended upon me, shooing me away from Leandra's room. They had about the same amount of luck as I had, at first. Sophie managed to coax the door open much later in the day and Leandra had requested to hire a vehicle to take her back to Paris. She refused to be alone with me for even a minute; therefore, she would not go back with me. I tell you, at this point, my heart is aching so badly, I want to rip it from my chest. Jesus, if something so wonderful can be taken away so easily, I think my former lifestyle was one much easier to deal with.
Leandra refused to come down to dinner, although I was not surprised. I tried to talk to her through that damnable door, and explain that I was not the same man my father spoke of. If she would just open the door and let me in, we could work everything out. I would explain everything. But she refused. She said she had to wonder how much I was playing her, knowing that a man as handsome [and quite the stupid idiot, I might add] as I would never go for someone as plain as she. Damn! She had no earthly idea just how beautiful she truly was. Not just on the outside, but her soul, her breathtakingly exquisite soul. This was the ultimate price I was to pay for my frivolous lifestyle, finding love only to lose it due to my choices in the past. No matter what I said, no assurances would persuade her to believe that I actually felt something for her, that I was not trying to use her, and that there was only one thing I wanted from her—her love.
So here I sit, after a heartbreaking day of separation. Isn't it odd that only after a few days, the woman hiding behind a bedroom door, just a few feet down the hall, has come to mean so much to me? I find it so. Damn love, damn my aching heart, and damn the notion that people could find happiness together. It's a myth.
Mère just stopped in to check in on me, and to tell me that she and Sophie had convinced Leandra to stay for the festival. They had hopes that once she broke free of her room and saw me again that she would come around. I don't hold those false hopes. I know I've lost her, and I don't blame her for not wanting to see me. I guess there's nothing left to do but see what tomorrow brings. After the party, I will see to it that she gets safely home and I will not darken her door again.
With a tear in his eye, Antoine closed the journal and laid it in the drawer, shutting it slowly before reaching up to turn off the bedside lamp. Once the room was cloaked in darkness, he sank down into the soft mattress and stared at the ceiling. A loud groan escaped him, knowing sleep would not come easily. He tossed the blanket aside and left the bed. Grabbing his robe, he opened the door and made his way down to his father's study. He needed a good, stiff drink.
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