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initiatives, the studious pupil of her amorous nature, and the consenting victim of the raptures she’d inflict on him.
    Motionless and fascinated, he watched Amélie suck her middle finger with delectation, as though it had been dipped in a pot of honey, then slip it into her slit, only to offer it to him like some exotic sweet. He pulled it into his mouth, licked it, savored it, and returned it to her glistening with his saliva. He was breathing hard, his eyes dilated, his cock like the arrow of a sundial.
    Amélie moistened the furrows surrounding her scarlet vulva, seeking electric sensations, her finger flat upon her clitoris. She was beginning to enjoy this exchange of voyeurism. Her legs wide open, with slow motion gestures, she turned toward David to allow him a better angle of observation.
    She plunged her finger in the pearly, iridescent emulsion rising from the folds of her pussy, and breathed faster, massaging the hood on her cunt’s crest.
    With a greedy hand, she assaulted the delta of her cunt, moaning and moving her head in every direction, disoriented by sexual bliss like a compass in contact with a magnet. Suddenlyshe raised her hips, to bring her wet, dilated slit close to David’s flushed face:
    —Look how hot I am. Fuck me!
    David made a necklace of Amélie’s legs and rammed himself into her, supporting himself on his hands. He didn’t want to lie down on her. He needed to see her face contract with pleasure, the blush of excitement spread upon her tits. Determined to rip open and reveal the warmth of her feelings with the tip of his rod, he plunged deep into her silky, wet, blazing depths.
    —You’re so juicy, my angel! I want to see you come. I’m sure you’re magnificent when you come.
    Amélie moaned as his dick rubbed the walls of her cunt, stifling a gasp at each of his assaults, her breathing cut short by the fireworks churning in her belly, with the violence of birth contractions.
    —Say that you like it, he ordered.
    Her only answer was to disgorge a cry of brutal rage as she encircled David’s cock within her pulsating cunt. He smiled. It was a promising start. But if he wished to convince her of the inevitability of their union, he had to bring her to slower, more masterful orgasms. He wasn’t close to being sated.
    Early in the morning, a bowled-over Amélie picked up her clothes strewn on the floor. David was still asleep. She drew a hot bath in which she attempted to regain her spirits: no orte had ever made love to her like this.
    She had no intention to stock up her impressions without sharing them with him. But how could she express this? She’d never be able to voice her emotions accurately and yet with modesty. She reviewed the sentences running throughher mind. They oscillated between stupidity, platitude, and trivial expertise in the field of performance.
    She got dressed, deciding that it was better not to overstay her welcome, particularly since her overwhelming desire was to leave within the sheets of this bed the terrifying realization that something irreparable had taken place during the night, making her queasy.
    Awake now, David invited her to keep him company in the bathroom. While he was shaving, Amélie, eager to test her heart’s independence, delivered an awkwardly pompous lecture to the effect that their relationship could not go anywhere, there was no possibility of love between them, and that was that.
    David promptly reassured her. He softened the import of the night, praising the merits of complicity. He proved conciliatory to the point of indifference, so that Amélie began to think she had dreamt his intense words of love, attributing to them a significance they never had.

CHAPTER TWO
    I n the mass of helter-skelter sensations arising from this new adventure, Amélie noted a few striking facts: First, she was no longer hungry. From the moment of her meeting with David she experienced a curious kind of repletion, of indifference to food. Eating had