The Second World War: PART 8 - Adelise Gèroux - Paris (1944)
Roger Farrier crossed the landing and unlocked the door marked 16A, stepping inside and twisting the lock behind him in the same movement. He slotted the thin brass chain into place and, while drawing it to the right, a horrid feeling came over him.
He suddenly stiffened. Bile coagulating in his mouth. ‘Adelise?’ he called out. There was nothing for a moment, then a nervous giggle emanated from the shadows. Farrier whirled round. He crossed the room deftly and switched on the bedside lamp and was astonished. Long red hair spilled out over both pillows.
‘What’re you playing it?’
Crimson fingertips lowered the thin sheet. The green eyes appeared, fluttering. She tucked the blue covers beneath her chin, playfully. The sheet provided terrible cover. Farrier hated himself for making out the swelling breasts below. He swallowed hard.
‘I thought it’d be fun.’ Adelise said.
‘You’ve been drinking,’ he growled, removing his hat and coat, tossing them headlong to the red wine floor. They landed in a pile with her things.
‘So have you,’
‘Shut up,’ he cleared his throat and walked over to her. He took her head in his hands and looked deeply into the eyes. The murky green told him that she wanted him. Instead, he went for her forehead. She nuzzled up through the hands and received his lips on hers.
‘No,’ he said. ‘We can’t.’
‘We can,’ she panted, reaching out with her arms, she wrapped them around his neck and brought Roger’s face down on hers in a fierce but delicate kiss. Her open lips shuddered at his touch and, with ferocity, she put her back into it and pushed the rest of her mouth into his. She nuzzled her lips into his neck and returned to embrace him again. She leapt at him, tossing away the sheet. He grabbed her right thigh and forced it away. She ripped at his shirt buttons, he tried to get up but lost his patience, he wanted to feel good for once. He took her hand in his and enveloped her in a kiss that refused to end, climbing onto the bed. His hand never once letting go of hers. Her fingers tightened around his.
Farrier sat back in bed, eyes red and staring at his cigarettes on the bedside table. He felt ashamed of himself, it was his own rotten fault. He had one of those hangovers that worsens from excessive smoking. But his thoughts weren’t on his terrible hangover.
He loved Sophie, he did, but there was something stirring inside of him for this girl. He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. He went into the bathroom wondering if it was possible to love two women simultaneously. When he reached the sink, he realised this was a falsity and knew who his heart really belonged to.