The old power plant was the worst possible place for a date. A ruin perched on a hill, it was covered with ferns and weeds, choked with brambles, and littered with fire pits, condoms, and broken glass. Steph was already feeling sorry she’d come, especially since the little jerk was late. She stood waiting, caught in the greasy immobility of that summer evening. She glanced at her watch again. She felt thirsty and horny.
He finally arrived.
Anthony rode up on a tinny, putt-putting motorbike, legs spread wide. His shirt was in tatters, he had pointy dress shoes on, and he looked completely dazed. When he was within a few yards, he cut the engine and coasted. The bike rolled to a stop near Steph, swaying gracefully on its shock absorbers. Anthony looked like a kid on a rocking horse.
“Hi.”
“Did you forget?”
“No. I’m late, I’m sorry.”
He pulled the bike onto its stand and climbed off. He stuck his hand in the back pockets of his pants, which emphasized his shoulders in a not unattractive way. Steph looked him over.
“Did you get into another fight?”
“No.”
“What about your shirt?”
“It’s nothing.”
She let him stew for a moment. Anthony looked a little stupid, but he felt like a nice change after slimy Simon’s low-down tricks. Besides, he was attractive. His shy roughneck side had its charm. She made him wait a little longer, then said:
“All right, come on. You’re getting on my nerves.”
She pointed the way and they walked to a staircase behind the power plant. From there, at least you got a view of downtown, with its scattering of streetlights, an occasional car on the maze of roads, and the ZUP projects with their flickering, bluish windows. The narrow steps led to some old locker rooms. They sat side by side, elbows touching. Anthony looked at his hands and thought about his father. He had come in spite of everything. Steph lit a cigarette.
“So what happened to you?”
“Just a thing. It’s nothing.”
The silence fell again, thickened by the heat. In this weather, everything took on the consistency of oil. As Anthony stared at his chewed-up fingernails, Steph studied him. The red marks on his neck. The outline of his cheekbone, his smooth cheeks, the black eye, that youthful, velvety skin, his smell.
“You’re no fun,” she sighed.
“It’s too hot. Anyway, I don’t know what to say.”
He said this with an impatient gesture, as if he were tossing coins on the ground. He felt self-conscious and hesitant. Steph decided she would have some fun with him.
“So, what did we come here for?”
He looked at her. She was very tan, had her hair up, and was wearing shorts, a sleeveless blue blouse, and Converse sneakers. He recognized her perfume, the one that smelled like cotton candy, and saw the golden fuzz on her thighs. She had put her question to him as a challenge. She knew perfectly well what he wanted. She went on:
“Try something, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not just gonna sit there, are you?”
“What d’you want me to do?”
“Hey, it’s not my job to tell you what you should do.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Try it, and you’ll see.”
He considered this. She really had a lot of nerve. Steph’s eyes were full of mischief, but not so much as to totally discourage him.
“Haven’t you ever slept with a girl?”
“Of course I have!” he said indignantly.
“Well, then, what did you do with other girls?”
“I don’t know, it just happened.”
“And with me you’re hung up?”
“Well, I’m not about to jump you right here on the staircase.”
Steph burst out laughing. No way was she going to have sex with him, either on the stairs or anywhere else. But she could still have fun turning him on, and then give him a quick consolation peck at the end of the evening.
“All right, then. What do we want to do?”
“You want to go somewhere?”
“Wait a minute. Try something, at least.”
“Like what?”
“Whatever you like.”
“Whatever I like?”
“You have carte blanche, I promise.”
“Anything at all?”
“It’s an open bar, I’m telling you.”
She was smiling and so was he. For Anthony, this was as much an opportunity as a chance to mess everything up. He had to play it just right. He took her right wrist and pulled her hand close. Steph felt tempted to laugh. What was this idiot up to? He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
“Shit, a romantic.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re really too much of a gentleman.”
“Too true.”
Meanwhile, he was still holding her wrist and she didn’t pull away. It was a soft bit of shared skin-to-skin contact. Steph’s eyes were sparkling. They were now entering that blessed realm of play. The timing was good. Night was coming on. All in all, things weren’t turning out too badly.
“Oooh, I think I’m in love,” she said.
“That’s normal.”
“You’re dumb, you know. You could’ve touched my breasts.”
“Or your ass.”
“Or even worse yet.”
“Seriously?”
“No, you’re crazy.”
She pulled her wrist back and playfully pushed him away. Through the gap in her blouse he glimpsed the taut strap of her bra, the roundness of a breast, and a mole near the edge of the fabric. She was desirable, the way a beach is desirable, or a pastry, or chocolate.
“Do you want me to help you?” she asked.
“It’s okay, I didn’t do anything.”
“Come on, let’s go somewhere.”
Steph jumped to her feet and turned toward the silent town. She brushed off her bottom and put her hands on her hips. There she was, firmly planted in front of him. A statue, an Eiffel Tower.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It was stupid not to bring something to drink.”
“We still can. We could just swing by the club.”
“To do what?”
Anthony checked his watch.
“It’s closed at this time of night. I know where the key is hidden. We’ll slip in, grab a bottle, and take off.”
“Think so?” she asked, coming closer to him. “Kind of risky, isn’t it?”
Anthony had also stood up and was stretching, happy to be taking some initiative.
“No, it’s okay. But I only have one helmet.”
“I’ve got my car.”
“I’d rather we went on the bike. It’s simpler.”
“Can two of us ride on that thing?”
Anthony sighed. Of course they could.
“You’ll bring me back here afterward?”
“No problem.”
“Wait a sec.”
Steph ran to her car and fetched a little canvas shoulder bag that she slung across her chest. They were ready to go.
“Hang on, okay?”
“Yeah, but where?”
“Anywhere you like.”
She put her arms around his waist, and he abruptly took off. As he rode down to the road, she cried:
“You won’t drive like a maniac, okay?”
They flew through the warm evening air, enjoying the perfect smoothness of departmental highways. Steph soon began to shiver. Speed rose from everywhere, in her thighs and her belly. She clung to Anthony, trying to lean in the turns, her cheek against his back, eyes closed. Daylight gradually faded from the surrounding countryside, leaving only a timid pallor at the horizon. They crossed open areas, forests, and fields. All along the way she breathed in the boy’s sour smell. He had been drinking, running, and sweating, and he smelled. It was physical and vaguely off-putting, but in the darkness that smell became her landmark. The night rushed into her. She let herself go.
When they got to the sailing club, Anthony left her alone while he went to get a bottle from the storeroom. It wouldn’t take long, but Steph started to freak out the moment he disappeared. The night was pitch black and she was stuck by the side of the road in shorts. At the first car that came along, she panicked and ran to hide in a little grove of trees nearby. She waited there, crouched down without moving, her hands on her shoulders, heart pounding. Branches rustled gently overhead, even though there wasn’t a breath of wind. When Anthony reappeared, the relief she felt was so sharp she could have kissed him.
“Shit, where did you go?”
“Nowhere. Hey, take it easy.”
She took Anthony’s arm, instinctively seeking contact with him.
“It’s a jungle in there,” she said. “I was scared.”
By way of an answer, he showed her the bottle of vodka and some old newspapers he’d found to start a fire with.
“Can you put all this in your bag?”
“Sure. Give me the bottle. I need a drink now.”
He handed it to her. It was Eristoff, and not even cold. It brought back memories. The screw cap cracked when Steph twisted it off. She took two good swallows before returning the bottle.
“Does a body good.”
“C’mon, let’s get going,” he said. “I don’t feel like hanging around here.”
He stuffed the newspaper into Steph’s bag. She climbed on behind him and they left as quickly as possible. She now hugged him tightly.
All around the shore, the lake was dotted with the bright pinpoints of campfires. Youngsters were partying or camping on the various beaches. Theoretically, you weren’t allowed to camp or drink there, but custom won out over the rule. So in summer, kids would come almost every evening to light fires, get loaded, and sleep under the stars. This led to all sorts of nuisances: fights, wear and tear, and a lot of garbage. City Hall launched public information campaigns, plastering the area with signs reminding people of the relevant prohibitions. Sometimes, a patrol would even fine offenders. But everybody in Heillange could remember once sleeping overnight on a beach or sharing a kiss in the moonlight. And, by and large, you couldn’t do anything against that tradition.
In fact, Anthony and Steph had to walk quite some distance on the American beach to find a quiet spot. Along the way they passed several small groups of laughing teens playing guitars and flirting around the campfire. They finally settled near a circle of big blackened rocks. Anthony gathered branches and crumpled the newspaper, then lit a match. The flames shot up, yellow and bright, redefining their faces and lengthening their shadows. Steph sat on the sand, her knees pulled up. Anthony came close to her and they started drinking. They didn’t have much to say to each other, but that was okay, they felt good, and Stéphanie no longer wanted to be elsewhere. But in the silence, Anthony started thinking about his old man anyway. He wondered how the business at L’Usine had turned out. This time it was Steph who wanted to talk about the weather. Which was handy, as a subject of conversation. You just made statements.
“I can’t stand this heat anymore.”
“Yeah,” said Anthony.
“I can’t sleep, even though I have AC in my bedroom.”
“It’s driving everybody crazy. Did you see in the newspaper, about the guys over by Blonds-Champs?”
“No,” she said.
The idea already amused her. Appalling things were always going on over there. At that, she downed a big slug of vodka.
“There was a family living there with a lot of kids, grandparents, dogs everywhere. Nobody had a job. Anyway, you know what I mean. And they were all naked.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It was too hot. They’d stopped getting dressed.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I swear. The neighbors called the cops. They couldn’t stand seeing the whole tribe like that, walking around without any clothes.”
“Ha! You can’t be serious.”
“It’s true, I swear. My mother showed me the article. The whole family, naked. Apparently the cops had a lot of trouble taking them in.”
By then, the liquor had taken them under its wing. Seeing Steph laughing, Anthony started to get his hopes up. They began telling more anecdotes like that one; the valley was full of them. Incestuous families where brothers, fathers, and cousins all got mixed up in tangled family trees. Post office holdups with crowbars, high-speed Massey-Ferguson chases, dances that ended in blasts of buckshot, the inbreds, welfare scams, incest over three generations—local color, in other words.
Over on the far shore, a light went out.
“Look,” said Anthony.
Steph rested her head on his shoulder. It was only the two of them, just drunk enough, protected by the night, the fire, the lake. After that, everything followed wonderfully. She kissed him, a nervous kiss with the medicinal taste of the vodka. Very quickly they tipped backward and stretched out on the coarse sand, their legs tangled. When she squeezed his cock through his jeans, he pulled back.
“What is it?” whispered Steph.
Without even realizing it, she was moving against him. She wanted it. She kissed him.
“Don’t worry, it’ll come.”
“I know,” he said.
Steph chuckled, then sat up to take off her blouse. Underneath, she was wearing a little bra without any underwire. You could make out her nipples through the fabric. She stood up to get rid of her shoes and shorts. Her nearly transparent white panties were tiny relative to the volume of her thighs. Her full, overflowing body looked like one big cleavage.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go for a swim.”
“In there?”
“Come on, I’m telling you.”
She helped him stand, then pulled him toward the water. As she walked, her ass swayed unctuously. He wanted to take his shirt off.
“Fuck!” she suddenly shouted, and started hopping around.
“What happened to you?”
“I don’t know. I stepped on something.”
She dropped to the ground to examine her wound.
“Get out of the light. I can’t see anything.”
Sitting on the ground with her right foot drawn up on her left thigh, she studied the thing with a look of dismay. Anthony crouched down to see. She had a neat little almond-shaped cut in the very pale skin of her plantar arch. It looked like a mouth.
“It’s not very deep,” he said. “But I think you’d better not go swimming.”
“Carry me.”
He looked up at her.
“Bring me to the water. I don’t want to get sand in it.”
Anthony took the time to pull off his jeans, then helped her climb onto his back. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Steph caught his smell again, the one she’d breathed on the road. She laid her forehead on his neck. She was becoming simple, patient. The water rose around them. When they were in up to their waists, she slid off and came around to face him. They kissed again. She held him in her arms and wrapped her legs around him. He was supporting her, his hands under her legs, brushing the fabric of her panties. The water was quite warm, almost cloying.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Steph was now talking quietly. She let herself lean against him. The water blended with the sky. Anthony thought of all the filthy things crawling under the water, like fishes, and catfish, and the Colin boy’s rotting corpse. He could feel the mud squeezing between his toes as they went farther. He shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
She put her head against his collarbone. Anthony kept walking. The water was deep now. Very soon, it would be over his head.
“Hold me,” she said.
“I’m holding you,” he answered.
They floated, insular and white in the darkness of the water and sky, and life really felt worthwhile.
“Stop,” she said.
“Are you scared?”
“A little.”
He planted a kiss below her ear. Insensibly, she had started to wriggle against him. They felt good, the water was delicious after all, and the rain wasn’t coming. He rocked her gently, taking advantage of her heavy, malleable ass.
“Wow, you’re really hard…”
She had said that under her breath. Anthony wanted to show her just how true it was.
“Don’t move,” she said.
She was very gently swaying against him. Through the fabric of her panties, he could feel the furrow of her pussy, that call within. She rubbed against him, and her breath gradually quickened. Under the water, he tried to push the fabric aside, so he could enter her.
“No…” said Steph.
She hugged him hard, urgently, languid. The movement between them had given rise to a kind of regular lapping. He dug his fingers into her flesh, feeling a tremendous urge to knead and enter it. He must have hurt her a little; she moaned.
“Again…”
“What?”
“Do it again,” she said. “Hard.”
He did so and she moaned again, louder. Despite his excitement, Anthony was experiencing a strange impression of solitude and seriousness. Steph’s face remained hidden. He was alone in confronting the darkness, the lake’s animal presence, the weight of the sky. Huddled against his chest, she was using him, her hips producing that maddening female swaying. Anthony could hardly stand it. His cock almost hurt, he so badly wanted to plunge into that meaty softness, that pulsing, blood-warmed heart, Steph’s vagina. He freed one hand and grasped her by the waist. She arched her back. He tried to push into her in spite of the fabric. Again, he tried to free his cock.
“Tch!” she said.
“I want to.”
“Be quiet. Stay like that. Hold me, dammit.”
He tightened his grip. She was now breathing really fast, and her hips were moving in rhythm with her breath. It was now, he told himself. She was going to come.
“Wait,” he muttered.
He wanted to come too. But at the same time it wasn’t so easy in this water, and this darkness. She held him with all her strength and an odd, almost grotesque sigh rose from her chest.
“Wait,” he said again.
But he could already feel Steph’s body slackening in his hands, becoming like a piece of cast-off clothing. She let go, stood facing him, looking. He very quickly lost his erection. The silence around them had an almost unbearable relief.
“Take me back now. I’m exhausted. I’m cold.”
He watched her step out of the water. Her clearly outlined silhouette was solid, she was limping a little bit, and this jerky movement gave her flesh a pointless, sexual quivering.
“Are you angry?” she asked.
She was rubbing her arms and hopping in place, waiting to dry off.
“No.”
A few minutes later, they were able to pull on their clothes. They headed for the motorcycle, leaving the fire behind them to die. This time, Steph held on to the saddle. As a farewell gesture at the power plant, Anthony was treated to a peck on the cheek. For a few days he tried to convince himself that he had fucked her. But it was really the other way around.