Chapter 1
Dedicated to Cyndy and Ray
The hypnotizing rhythm of the wheels of the Orient Express propels Clarissa into a zone of weightlessness so near to the all-swallowing exhaustion after having made love with Franz. Conscious that thinking about another man is highly unbecoming for a recently married lady she returns to the licit partner of her nights and days. She loosens her muscles and calms her breath. ‘Is she convincing enough to deceive Albrecht, a surgeon, of being fast asleep not to search after the cause of her insomnia? Or heavens forbid, lulling her into sleep by making love to her?’
The rustling of a turning page sets her nerves on edge.’ Is Albrecht really that absorbed in his Rilke or is he just using the “Malte Laurids Brigge” to mask his spying on her? Hard to tell, Albrecht is a master in concealing. Better keep pretending everything is all right just as she had done during their wedding night when he made love to her with the honing of a professional, trying his utmost to make her happy from her first stir of lust to its final spurt. He failed. Not his fault. No man can equal Franz’s brutal intrusion into her body with its agony of searing pain and throbbing pleasure.’
She tries to spurn the memory of Franz ’s inexpected appearance among the well-wishers after the end of the wedding ceremony. ‘How could she ever forget his vicious grin when, thrusting a thorns- spiked red rose into her hand, he wished her luck while her blood was trickling down the immaculate whiteness of her wedding gown?’
The book closes with a bang. Albrecht’s hand alights on her brow.
“Don’t fret, Clarissa. It will pass. It always does. Paris is a great healer. And if the city of lights fails, my love for you is big enough to allow you to get from another man what I can’t give you.”
And she knows that what he says is true enough for her to curl in his arms and fall asleep.
