Sometime in the late summer of the year 1950, owing to a recent and rather messy divorce, a woman and her young daughter moved to the country, to live with the woman's newfound lover. The woman's name was Evelyne Castelle, she was thirty-nine years of age, tall, with a buxom figure, that is to say a prominent bosom, wide hips and thighs, and a rump which although sizable was pleasantly shaped and appealing. Her face bore in it the generous traits of her nature, her eyes were wide-set and of a sparkling green, her lips full and lush, and of a rich Burgundy robe, her skin smooth as the lining of a white peach. She was a woman of a bold and carnivorous demeanour, at once seductive and slightly menacing. A voracious lover, whose many sexual appetites were always in demand and actively pursued.
If the woman's carnality was on constant and evident display, this was in open condradiction with the portrait of her daughter, a young doe of just eighteen years of age, pretty as a lark, with clear, unblemished skin, a slender body, newly budding breasts, dainty hands, and delicate features of the most striking and naive beauty imaginable. Everything about her bore an aura of such childlike innocence that one felt compelled not to view her so much as a lady in bloom but as a debutante utterly ignorant of the charms she possessed. This was most manifestly demonstrated by the way which she moved, alternately awkward and graceful, as if she were in the act of discovering the capacities and limitations of her body. She was shy to a fault, often covering her rosy bud of a mouth as she laughed, although when she omitted this gesture her lips revealed the most exquisite and sparkling display of pure, ivory teeth. At times, when left to herself, she would twirl strands of her long, golden hair inbetween her small fingers, before taking hold of them between the fleshy rouge of her lips, a habit of hers which Evelyne discouraged. This young girl was named Emilie Castelle, and she was the pride of her mother, who had not, even in the apotheose of her youth, possessed such a candid and effervescent comeliness.
If for every beauty there is a Beast, lurking somewhere in the shadows, then in Emilie's case this opposing creature must most certainly be her mother's lover - a man of such crass and vile properties that one would have difficulty imagining how he had managed to obtain the graces of a woman as charming as Evelyne. He was a man of rough and ill-hewn proportions. He had dark skin, black eyes, a broad nose and shoulders wide as barrels, hairy oafish forearms, a gut rippled with savage energy, thick legs, a manic laugh and a heathen's manner to him. He was a magnificent brute, of such ferocity that only Evelyne seemed capable of facing him and rebuffing his sordid, penetrating gaze. His hands were always over her, lascvisiously stroking, snatching and clawing at her pearly skin. Emilie was considerably frightened of him, and in the months after he had become a part of their lives she obstinately refused to exchange even the mildest talk with him. It a feat of considerable bravery on her part if she ventured to steal a timid glance at the bulk of his body, no less to contemplate the dark savagery of his face.
The man's name was Roberto Manel, and he was of Southern and perhaps Andaluzian origin. Despite his coarse manners and appearences he was educated, well-versed in music and literature. He was fond of eating and drinking and horse-riding, and a great portion of his estate was devoted to the keep of his favorite mares and stallions. He was a wealthy man too, owning a sizable manoir in the Loire Valley, which, in addition to the main manor house also included the aforementioned stables, a small chatêlet, a large and well-tended flower garden, many acres of thick pine woodland, ponds for fishing, kennels with dogs for hunting, a colombier and a marble Folly. He had been married several times before, and all of his wives had abandoned him, in turn, unable to endure the visceral emotions his crude and degenerate lust had reduced them to. He was well known in the voisinage for being an eternal and incorrigable seducteur, preying ruthlessly and without shame upon widows, married women, servant girls, and whatever came within his reach. He was a fearless predator, willing to tackle any woman, no matter how obstinate, of such a base and perverse nature that he seemed wholly above and beyond any morale or reprimand.
Perhaps, if Evelyne had known him better she might have feared for the safety of her young daughter, but so enthralled was she by the imposing character of her lover, that she turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to whatever villainous attributes he possessed.
In the first week following their arrival at the manor, Roberto conducted himself in an attentive and relatively considerate manner towards her. He inhabitually ignored and spurned whatever other females were about : namely the young mulatto maid who did the washing - a tan Haitien girl who flirted actively with him, when she believed Evelyne was absent. Evelyne had caught her several times in the act of attempting to seduce her lover, and she would have fired the maid, had she not found a certain appeal to the idea of this native girl consumed with lust over her man. Besides the maid, there were other threats to her happiness, the most imminent being their new au pair, a lazy Polish girl of perhaps twenty-one years of age, with a reddish-blonde mane, a sultry walk and lips curled in a perpetual pout. She was a bit dull, lacking in wit or intelligence, and for this reason alone Evelyne kept her on the staff, considering the au pair too stupid to even camouflage a potential affair.
Even if she believed in according these women the benefit of her trust, the truth was she felt herself compromised and slightly threatened by their presence, although she would never admit this, and she responded towards them with a marked hostility that veiled her inquietude. She barked orders at them, night and day, treated both the native maid and the Polish au pair to a variety of enthusiastic insults, of which, due to their foreign natures, they were blissfully uncomprehending. Roberto seemed amused by his wife's treatment of the servants, and rarely intervened on their behalf, unless it was to issue an order of his own. He was constantly reassuring and soothing his wife's passions and outburts, treating her as if she were a spoiled child, in need of attention.
In the midst of these charades, Emilie went for the most part unnoticed. She roamed the grounds, on solitary afternoons, while her mother and father-in-law were in the manoir, either arguing or making-up, and she would go to the stables to visit the horses, or she would stroll the woods and bathe her feet in the ponds, or else she would spend long hours alone in her room, re-arranging the contents of her dresser, or studying her slender figure and timid gaze in front of the mirrored-armoire.
One such afternoon, being frightfully bored, she was undressing herself in front of the mirror, preparing to change her tenue for the fourth time that day, when Roberto barged into her room and slammed the door behind him.
Emilie jumped in shock at the sound of the door being slammed, then she recoiled in fright. Roberto had never breached the privacy of her bedroom door before. He appeared angry, his large chest was heaving, the muscles of his jaw and forearms were bunched, his eyes were twitched, his face was red and perspiring.
"That woman," he said, "Is driving me mad!" He pointed towards the door. He advanced in the room, wheeling around, as if uncertain what his purpose was. Then his stare landed on Emilie, who had nothing on but a loose summer skirt, sandals, and a blouse which she held in front of her naked breasts. His gaze wandered over the uncovered parts of her body, the tiny, freckled shoulders, the bare calves, the slim neck. In the waves of sunlight spilling through the stone-laced windows of her room, her hair and skin were bathed in a sumptuous golden hue.
Sensing the weight of his regard she struggled to compose herself. "What are you... doing?" she ventured timidly. "This is... my room..."
Seeing her distress he relaxed his shoulders, gave her something of an amused smile. "My apologies, young lady, I didn't mean to intrude. I can see you are - well occupied."
She blushed scarlet, clutching tighter to her blouse. "Please, leave."
He held up his broad hands. "You shouldn't be frightened of me," he said. "You have no reason to."
