The Opel Kadett was parked far away, and Anthony and Steph were walking along the departmental highway, tired now, and not as drunk. From time to time they had to step aside when a car passed; it was quite late, and the highway shoulder was empty. Their hands touched occasionally. Everything became serious and precious. They kept quiet, thinking of what was to come. Neither of them wanted it to end like this, unresolved.
“Here we are,” said Anthony.
He had spotted his car in the distance, alone on the side of the road. They covered the last yards dragging their feet. Steph got in on the passenger side, and Anthony sat down behind the wheel. He was about to turn the ignition when she said:
“Wait.”
He waited. You couldn’t see anything out the windshield. They might as well have been lost on the high seas. Steph lowered her window a bit to get some fresh air, turning the squeaky crank. The moonless, indifferent sky weighed down on the little car’s square roof. From the surrounding countryside came tiny, continuous rustlings.
“It’s sweltering.”
“Yes,” said Anthony.
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“I have a train a little after ten.”
“Come here.”
She leaned toward him and their mouths met above the gearshift lever. Anthony, who had closed his eyes, reached for Steph’s breasts. Touching her body through the bra, it felt almost solid. He pressed, and Steph giggled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“C’mon, what is it?”
“It’s nothing. You’re touching my breasts like they’re made of plastic.”
“They are a little like plastic.”
“Idiot!”
“Really, they’re super hard.”
“They’re firm.”
She arched her back, showing off.
“Come see.”
He felt them again.
“So?”
He felt her through the tank top, then touched the bare skin in her cleavage with his fingers.
“Now here, it’s soft.”
He ran his hand across the naked space between her tank top straps, and slipped his index finger into the dip between her breasts.
“You’re sweating…”
Steph reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She slipped the straps off her shoulders, pulled the thing out the side. Then she took the tank top off over her head. The faint starlight just barely revealed the oval of her shoulder, the weight of her breasts. Anthony had wanted to see them for so long. He took them in his hands. The feeling was incredible—and almost immediately inadequate. Breathing hard, he hurriedly started exploring, then bit one of her nipples. Steph gave a little cry. He had hurt her. Her panties were getting wet. She hoped he wouldn’t waste too much time feeling her up. Guys tended to get lost doing that, and she preferred to have them slip a hand into her panties and really caress her. She wanted to spread her legs wide. She grabbed Anthony’s face with her hands and the kisses started again. For once she needed speed, to wrap it up. Also to repress a strange urge to weep that was rising in her, though for no good reason. It was late, she was tired. She hung on to him, and Anthony took her in his arms. That is, he tried to, because the gearshift lever was definitely in their way. They got increasingly annoyed, driven by a fierce hunger, kissing like high schoolers, their hands wandering everywhere, the car’s interior full of sighs and rustlings. Their cheeks and foreheads met. She bit him. She was dying for it. She sobbed.
“Something wrong?”
“I’m fine, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
She climbed over the gearshift and straddled him.
“Hey, there…” he murmured consolingly, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
She bumped him with her forehead.
“Stop it. I’m fine, I’m telling you. I want it. Fuck me now.”
She tackled the fly of his jeans, which had buttons, what a nuisance.
“Help me.”
He arched his back to open his fly, and Steph’s head nearly hit the ceiling. But she didn’t care, she was rubbing against him, she could hardly wait.
“Hurry.”
She thrust her hand down between them, touching his cock through his underpants. She was languidly rocking against him. He felt hard against her panties. She pulled them aside, freeing her pussy. They were almost there when a noise distracted them.
“What was that?”
“Wait.”
A buzzing could be heard behind them, nasal at first and steadily getting louder.
“What is it?”
“It’s kids. Don’t move.”
She flattened herself against him. He used the occasion to pull off the elastic holding her hair.
“Hey, not so fast!” she said.
“Shh!”
Headlights appeared in the rear window, their beams lighting up the inside of the car. It was delicious and freaky. Motorbikes passed them, snarling and insulting, then went off down the departmental highway, leaving only the red wavering of their taillights in the distance, which disappeared in turn.
“That was weird, wasn’t it?”
“They didn’t see us.”
“Yeah, but I dunno…Did you get the feeling they were slowing down?”
“ ’Course not.”
“Who were they?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
Just the same, it put a bit of a chill on them. Steph was thinking.
“I’m going to take off my shorts. That way, we’ll be ahead of the game.”
Anthony laughed. She was right, it was a good idea. But to do it, Steph had to overcome a number of obstacles, namely the tightness of the passenger compartment, the lack of light, and the awkward gearshift lever. She finally managed to get onto her knees and slip her shorts off. She had plain cotton panties on underneath. A roll of her belly hung over the elastic waistband.
He touched her thighs. The skin was soft, the flesh underneath smooth and generous. His fingers sank in deep.
“Stop that.”
“It’s a turn-on.”
“Well, so much the better. But stop it. I feel like a fat cow.”
She got back into position over him, and he grabbed her hips.
“You have any condoms?”
“In my pocket.”
He handed her the prophylactic, and while she was unwrapping it, he reached around a buttock and found the swelling of her pussy lower down. Through her panties, he could feel her vagina gradually softening. He pushed the fabric aside to check. It was juicy and viscous. Steph’s face was hidden by her hair, but he could guess at the effect of pleasure on her crotch, and the redness of her cheeks. His fingers dipped deep inside her. She finally got the condom out of its wrapping. Holding it between her lips, she grabbed her panties with both hands and ripped the seam.
“Pull down your jeans,” she said.
He arched his back to get his butt free of the seat and slid his pants down.
“Take it easy,” said Steph, whose head was against the ceiling. “Stop. Don’t move.”
He couldn’t see her crotch but felt the nearly unpleasant prickling of hairs against his cock. The sensation of warmth was incomparable. Despite the darkness, she slipped the condom on him easily, pinching the reservoir just the way it says in the manual. Then she raised herself up, and suddenly he was inside her—a sensation like diving that barely lasted a fraction of a second. Lowering herself, she took him all the way in, pressing down with all her weight, open and heavy, trapping him with her arms, her hair spread across his face. Some got into Anthony’s mouth, and he blew to spit out a strand. He could barely move. She was holding him in her body in a vice-like grip.
The sound of the motorbikes rose in the distance again. In the darkness, the noise was terrifically sharp, like a dentist’s drill. Steph held Anthony even tighter.
“Don’t move,” he said.
She didn’t answer. He wrapped his arms around her.
She was frightened. He could feel her breathing against his belly. He figured that with all this going on, he was going to lose his erection. The two-wheelers approached. They slowly cruised past, and for an instant their lights filled the inside of the car with dusty brightness. The noise came in through the lowered window. It felt as if they had been there all along. Anthony was afraid they were going to stop. Then they rode off again.
“This isn’t good. I’m sure they spotted us.”
“I don’t care,” said Steph.
“I don’t like it.”
“Be quiet.”
But she could tell that he wasn’t as much in the mood anymore. She gathered her hair and tied it in a knot, baring her neck and face. Above him, she arched her back. He could see the angle of her jaw, the outline of her ear. A girl is full of so many details. Meanwhile, his erection was definitely on the way out. She leaned over to kiss him and he set his hands on the small of her back. He could follow the damp track her sweat was making along her spine. Catching the smell of her pussy, he roamed over her breasts, his hands constantly surprised by a swelling or an unexpected fold. And under her skin and the soft rolls of flesh, something intense, boiling, and whirling. Drops of sweat ran down her sides. His own ass was stuck to the seat. He ran his hands up to her deep, damp armpits. Steph was overflowing. He had an urge to bite her, to break her skin, to drink her juice. He wanted to smell the salt of her sweat. He took her buttocks in both hands and spread them. She couldn’t help sighing. She started swaying back and forth against him very fast, drenching him. She was so full, slumped, and open, he couldn’t even tell if his cock was still stiff. He raised himself up to match her movement. They were fucking. It was official, now. Hard to believe. Steph had started to moan rhythmically and he pounded hard against her, his back arched and his arms rigid. Her pussy was like a bath. She told him to come, told him to spurt, said other words that stung like slaps. But he wasn’t ready yet and began to work harder.
A dull thud echoed on the roof of the car.
They froze.
Figures were circling them. A face pressed against the passenger-side window. The guy sniffed at the opening and yelled:
“It smells like sex in there!”
Steph bent over, searching for her bra on the floor. More blows rained down on the roof and hood while the shapes kept disappearing and returning. It was impossible to say how many of them there were. The whole car was ringing. Anthony checked to be sure the doors were locked. The little Opel was now being rocked from side to side.
“Roll up the window!” he shouted, buttoning his fly.
But Steph was naked, exposed to all eyes. She huddled on the floor of the car, curled up in a ball.
“Hiiiiiiiiii!” a voice yelled.
Fingers reached through the window opening. The attackers, somewhere between three and ten of them, were wailing, grunting like pigs, moaning. The car felt as it were about to lift off. You couldn’t tell where to look anymore.
“Stop it!” yelled Anthony.
Fingers reached through the window gap. They tried the door handles on both sides of the car. A face pressed against the window on Anthony’s side. You would’ve sworn it was a big, pale fish stuck against the wall of an aquarium. The features were distorted but you could clearly see the ears sticking out on either side of the skull, giving this nightmare head a fantastic dimension. Anthony turned the key in the ignition and honked the horn.
The little car produced a long choking whine that echoed deep into the vast night. The chaos stopped immediately. Nothing remained of the attackers. Returned to itself, the darkness seemed to give the lie to what had happened.
“Get dressed,” said Anthony. “Quick.”
Shivering, Steph did the best she could. Anthony switched on the headlights, then got out of the car. Outside, there was nothing left. Everything was empty, abandoned. Steph got out of the car in turn. She didn’t take the time to put on her shoes, and could feel the rough texture of the roadway under her feet. The asphalt was still warm, whereas the air had become much cooler. You couldn’t see ten feet, and the surrounding forest had fallen silent. The landscape, which she guessed at without seeing, seemed to be waiting.
“I want you to take me home.”
He stared at a point in the distance.
“Right away.”
He went back to the Opel, opened the trunk and took out a wrench, just in case. Then they got back in the car.
“Those were inbreds, for sure.”
“I’m freezing.”
She was in the passenger seat, shivering. He found a sweatshirt lying on the backseat and handed it to her. Steph didn’t know exactly what Anthony meant by “inbreds,” though she knew the expression, of course. In her house, it meant those incestuous families out in the countryside and in makeshift camps, brutal, dazed-looking kids who rode around on motorbikes, necks shaved and noses running. They were the bottom, the lowest level, below social misfits even. Those people, the way they lived, their rustic isolation, and their distorted features seemed to emerge from a kind of state of nature. You imagined them shut in as recluses on farms, mixing like animals. Steph shivered again.
“Let’s go, please.”
“I know. I’m taking you home now.”
They didn’t exchange another word. Anthony looked at his watch at regular intervals. His bag was in the trunk and his train was leaving in a few hours. Here he had finally managed to fuck Stéphanie Chaussoy, and all it left was bitterness and fatigue, and nobody he could boast about it to. Neither of them had come.
When they were a hundred yards from her house, Steph had him stop the car.
“This is fine. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
He stopped the car without bothering to park. The streets were deserted. He hadn’t seen a soul during the whole drive.
“Do you live far away?”
“No.”
He didn’t have time for more questions. Steph had already opened the door and put a foot down. She needed a shower and ten hours of sleep. She thought of her bedroom, the fresh sheets, her teenage decor. A Luke Perry poster was still pinned to the wall. And near the bed, a crucifix with some dried boxwood.
“Wait,” said Anthony.
“What?”
“I don’t know. It feels lousy to say goodbye like this.”
“So what do you want? We’re not gonna make a big deal out of it.”
“I could write you,” said Anthony.
“If you like.”
She was very close to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“So long.”
She slammed the door, and he watched her walk away. She was barefoot, carrying her sneakers. She didn’t even bother turning around. He had fucked her, at least. He consoled himself with that thought as he made a U-turn and headed home.