The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

LEONE or the buffet of the Gare de Lyon by Régine Deforges

Translated by Maxim Jakubowski

IT ALL BEGAN in the Train Bleu, the restaurant of the Gare de Lyon.

The Christmas holidays had just begun. The railway station was surrounded by busy crowds, rushing, laden with cases, bags and skis. Leone, having delivered her mother and children, was settling up with the grumpy cab driver moaning about the traffic jams he’d just driven through.

“And they still complain about the price of petrol, even at ten francs per litre, shouldn’t be allowed to drive damn cars… Christ, retirement won’t ever come too early.”

Leone gave him a good tip, to calm him down and watched a faint smile transform his weary face.

“That’s very kind of you, madam. Have a nice journey.”

Her mother had managed to find a porter, the two kids were waiting quietly, pacified by the promise of dinner in the restaurant before they boarded the sleeping car. Their behaviour was particularly impressive seeing they were so excited by the coming disruption to their everyday life.

They followed the porter to the lift that went up to the restaurant. Passing under the great clock, her son remembered an episode from Tardi’s ADELE BLANSEC that had greatly impressed him. The children were agog at the baroque decor of the place. The abundance of gold, the walls and ceilings so full of colourful paintings, the warm nudes, the heavy silver trolleys laden with roasts, and in particular those bearing an impressive stack of patisseries which made their mouths water.

The maitre d’ found them a comfortable corner and brought the menus. Sophie, full of the assurance of her lone five years, declared peremptorily that she would not have soup but snails.

“That’s very heavy for an evening meal,” the grandmother said.

“It doesn’t matter, mother,” Leone said. “It’s the holidays.”

A grateful Sophie winked at her mum. Jacques, older, chose sausage and andouillette “with really a lot of chips” he added. Leone and her mother, less ambitiously, selected a consomme and grilled meat with a decent Bordeaux wine.

Once they had ordered, and the wine was promptly delivered to the table as requested, Leone chose to relax and lit up a cigarette while slowly sipping a glass of wine.

Two young men, in their early thirties, looking merry, both rather handsome and weighed down by luggage, came to sit across from them, picked up their menu and ordered. Then, like Leone, they each lit up a cigarette and looked around them. They noticed her simultaneously and smiled pleasingly, impressed by the spectacle of the unknown woman. Leone demurely smiled back. She knew she was pretty, draped in the soft, black wool outfit that showed off her pale complexion and her ash blonde hair. She looked away but still felt the men’s gaze on her. Her son also noticed their interest and, with a distinct sense of ownership, remarked:

“Why are those two guys looking at you like that?”

“It’s because they think mummy is very pretty,” said Sophie, cuddling up to her mother, to demonstrate that Leone was hers and hers alone. Which provoked Jacques to stand up and come over to kiss his mother. She held them both tight against her, laughing, pleased with the proximity of their warm young bodies.

“Those are indeed very lucky kids,” one of the men whispered rather loudly.

It was trite, but the sound of his voice was pleasing to Leone.

The waiters brought the dishes. Jacques sat down again and laid siege to his sausage with gluttony, while Sophie struggled with the snail tongs. For a few moments, they ate in silence.

From time to time, Leone would look up and across to the nearby table. On each occasion, she would catch the eyes of one or the other of the friends. Soon, she felt herself become increasingly uneasy. “What a pity I’m not alone… they’re both rather handsome. I’d find it difficult to choose between them… but, why choose?… Oh, what a fool I am, anyway, they’ll soon be leaving… I’d like to leave, too… How it would be nice to be alone in Paris for a few days… Strange how these men attract me… It’s reciprocal, they both like me too… what should I do?… I’d like to see them again… know where they live… I just can’t speak to them, not in front of mother and the children… Oh, how life can be awkward!”

She pulled out a cigarette from the pack. A flame was struck. One of the men was offering it to her. She lit up her cigarette and thanked him with a nod.

The plates were cleared away and the meat was brought on. Increasingly disturbed, she was rather tersely answering the children’s questions. Sophie pulled her by the sleeve.

“You’re not even listening to me. What are you thinking of?”

Leone kissed the child.

“I was thinking how bored I will be without you around.”

She tried to feign interest in her own mother’s discourse: she was worried how her daughter would spend the holidays. Heard Jacques asking whether he would be having the same instructor as the previous year, and if he could still go to the movies in the afternoon.

Once again, her eyes met the gaze of the two men. This time, she didn’t break the contact. She could read their desire, it was the same as hers, brutal and transparent. She felt her face go all red and looked away. There was something obsessive about their presence, her heartbeat quickened, her hands were becoming clammy, the bottom half of her body turning to lead. Shards of lucidity kept on telling her she was mad, ill, a sexual pervert. She took another cigarette and broke three matches in a row in a futile attempt to light it. The man who had offered her the flame earlier stood up, his light shivering slightly as he approached it. Leone took hold of the young man’s hand to bring it to the level of her cigarette. This brief contact caused her turmoil. The lighter’s flame went out under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up.

Her emotion reached its pinnacle as she witnessed the pale and stirring face of the man. He switched the lighter back on. Leone breathed the smoke in deeply with great relief.

“Thank you.”

He returned to his seat, said a few words to his friend who was smiling back at him. The arrival of the dessert trolley was a welcome diversion. The children wanted a taste of each single one: the chocolate mousse, the rum baba, the egg cream, the raspberry pie, the blackcurrant sorbet, the chocolate cake, the iced meringues, the tarte tatin, their eyes were all over the place. The two men chose their desserts under the admiring gaze of the kids. Leone took only a coffee, which provoked some witty remarks among the men about how women knew to protect their waistline. Even though it was all rather banal, Leone laughed along with them, pleased by this fortuitous contact which would very soon come to an end on the station platform.

The time was nearing, Leone requested the bill and a porter. They offered to carry her luggage, but gave up smiling when they saw how many she had.

“Where are you going?” one of them asked.

“Morzine,” Sophie said.

“What a coincidence, so are we,” they said together in such harmony that all three burst out laughing.

Her mother watched Leone with disapproval while the children looked jealous. They reached their sleeping car. The ticket controller opened the door connecting the children and the grandmother’s cabin. They moved and jumped between the compartments with noisy glee. Leone walked out into the corridor, and noticed the two men coming towards her from the other end of the car. The same emotion that had overcome her in the restaurant returned, only more violent now. She had to admit to herself that she wanted both of them together, that their joint desire was inflaming hers. “I’m a complete freak,” she thought. A good thing matters would go no further: them to Morzine or wherever, she in Paris. Sadness suddenly swirled over her at the thought of being alone in Paris, in the grey, cold and muddy December Paris, while others left for the snow and holidays, maybe even some sun.

“We were looking for you… You will come and have a glass of champagne with us?”

“No, thank you. It’s not possible, the train is about to leave.”

“But until Morzine we have all the time in the world.”

“I’m not taking the train, I’m only seeing the children off.”

“Oh, no…”

The harmony of how they expressed their disappointment and the sad look on their faces touched Leone so much she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling gently.

“Don’t pull such faces, you both look as if you’ve just lost your best friend.”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s a bit like that,” whispered the darker-haired one.

“Come with us,” said the other. “It’s stupid to stay in Paris at Christmas.”

“Yes, yes, why don’t you come along?”

“But I can’t, my job…”

“You can phone in tomorrow and say you’re sick.”

All the while, Sophie had been quietly listening to the conversation and watching her mother and the two young men in turn. She took her mother by the hand.

“They’re right, it would be nice if you came along with us.”

“You know it’s not possible, my darling. Go and see your grandmother.”

“Come, we’d so much like to know you better. Even if you can’t stay for the whole holiday, come for two or three days.”

“No, I tell you, it’s not possible. Anyway, I’d have nothing to wear. I can’t go to the mountains and the snow dressed like this.”

She pointed at herself, showing them how her black shoes couldn’t adequately replace decent apres-ski and her thin grey stockings substitute for warm leggings; and her delicate kid gloves, they would fall apart in the snow.

“It doesn’t matter, everything you need we can buy there.”

She did not answer. All three of them kept on watching each other, twisted up in their desire to huddle together, to caress one another, to love. Leone felt a pang of anger: “They’re right, what’s so important in Paris? I was only staying behind because I didn’t feel like going with mother and the children… But… Can one go like this, with people you don’t even know?… The only thing I know of them, is that they want to screw me… It’s getting on my nerves, after all… and then, what would mother think, if I stayed here, like that… she’s not stupid… and the children?… oh, to hell with the kids… if I did go?… It’s not possible, I haven’t got my toothbrush… or any make-up… I’d be such a sorry sight tomorrow morning… but they are so handsome… why not give in to their lust… and mine… so?”

“Madam, time to get off, the train is about to depart.”

The ticket controller stole her away from her thoughts. She waved farewell to the two men and walked into the compartment to kiss her mother and the children. Like on the occasion of every departure, Sophie cried, her tears soon dried by Leone’s kisses. Jacques wanted to open the window onto the platform; his mother convinced him not to, because of the cold. She kissed her mob one last time and got off the train. The controller closed the door behind her.

Like most people, she hated farewells on station platforms, it made her cry. Without even waiting for the train’s departure, the final kisses blown from her lips, she began moving towards the exit. She passed the wagon where the two men were standing on the running board.

“Come, you can go back tomorrow if you want.”

She stopped, her whole body braced towards them, torn between the desire to jump aboard and conventional morality.

“I’d really like to, but…”

The train gave a jump and slowly set itself in motion. She moved as if to climb on. She mechanically walked alongside, like someone trying to postpone the moment of separation from a loved one embarking on a long journey.

“Come…”

She felt herself lifted up, torn off the ground by two strong sets of hands and found herself in the now accelerating train, between the two men now looking at her with both satisfaction and worry.

“But it’s a kidnapping… you’re mad!”

But the sound of her voice, her bright, cheerful eyes, her moist, half-open mouth, contradicted her words.

If looks could eat, they were already devouring each other, truly amazed by the formidable aura of desire now surrounding them.

The spell wasn’t broken by the appearance of the ticket controller who did not appear surprised to have an extra passenger. There was a spare seat. Leone wanted to pay for her fare, they would not allow her. They ordered another bottle of champagne.

“To celebrate our journey.”

They introduced themselves: Gérard, Dominique. She only remembered their first names.

“I’m Leone.”

“Let us drink to Leone’s health.”

They raised their three glasses. The champagne was lukewarm, but it wasn’t important; it was only a symbol of their understanding.

Leaning on their elbows in front of the corridor window, they silently watched the procession outside of dark buildings, broken here and there by some light from a window, as they travelled through the sad Paris suburbs. Gérard put his arm around Leone’s waist, while Dominique took hold of her shoulder. Without shame or false modesty, Leone gave in to the reassuring sense of well-being running through her as well as the heat of the two men. They stayed that way for some time, savouring the certainty of pleasures to come. Soon, the lights outside were few and far between and there was only the black hole of the countryside.

They moved into one of the compartments and helped Leone take her coat off. She remained standing, arms on her side, confident, calm. Only her breath quickened. Dominique pulled her towards him, gently kissing her face, her neck. She felt her body harden against his, thrust her lips forward and this first kiss was so voluptuous she almost fainted out of joy. Gérard turned her round and also kissed her with voracious brutality. She moaned. While Gérard prolonged his kiss, she felt Dominique pulling the zip of her dress. Without interrupting their kiss, he helped the young woman’s arms out of the garment and let it fall softly to the ground. She stepped out of it and now only wore a short grey silk slip, lined with ochre lace. The hands of the two men moved across the smooth surface of the slip. They rubbed each other against her and she felt their hard cocks against her stomach and buttocks. She moved slightly, to feel them better. She thought they were getting even harder. Gérard abandoned her mouth and, sitting on the bunk, pulled down the shoulder straps of Leone’s slip and brassiere. Her breasts burst out, heavy and voluptuous. Gérard buried his face in them, his mouth squashed against her musky mounds. He took a step back to admire them better. The train’s movements echoed through them, bringing the breasts alive, their raised nipples begging for kisses and bites.

“How beautiful you are!”

She pulled Gérard’s head against her chest. He greedily nibbled one tip. Leone let out a small cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, go on.”

Gérard resumed his caress while Leone abandoned herself, a glutton for more.

Dominique was watching the spectacle of Gérard’s mouth moving from one breast to another while his hands roamed freely over her splendid chest. He slipped off the already crumpled slip and the already wet knickers. He brought them up to his nose. Leone was naked between the two still-clothed men, she now only wore her suspender belt, her stockings and her shoes. Dominique could no longer hold back. He pulled his penis out and, arching Leone back towards him, holding her by the hips, drove into her. She struggled a bit, but the young man strengthened his hold on her and thrust himself in even deeper. His sex must be quite large, for she had never felt herself as mightily invaded as this. He moved slowly inside her, whispering:

“I love you, you are so good.”

Gérard’s mouth and hands kept on bruising her breasts, Dominique’s cock surged on ever harder, a deep, savage lust rose inside Leone who came with a scream as Dominique spurted inside her. He briefly stayed within her, holding her up, kissing and pecking her back. Gérard pulled her away from his friend’s body and laid her down on the cot. He hurriedly tore off all his clothes, scattering them around the compartment and threw himself into Leone. He took her without consideration. She barely had enough time to register the surprise of her intense arousal before they climaxed together, in total silence.

Leone felt as if time was standing still. Her body, blissful, floated. The swinging movements of the train completed the illusion.

“I’m thirsty,” she whispered.

Dominique poured her some of the tepid champagne, she swallowed it in one gulp. He ran a wet towel over her body, which she was grateful for, and assisted her in rolling down her stockings and suspender belt. He then undressed.

Gérard grumbled. He was beginning to doze, and looking at him, Leone and Dominique began laughing.

“Here, some champagne will do you good.”

He took the bottle from Dominique’s hands and drank straight from it. The foam slipped out of his mouth, down his neck and lost itself in the hairs on his chest. He burped and apologized, lit a cigarette that he handed over to Leone and offered Dominique another. They were sitting on the cot, their legs hanging over the edge, curled up together, smoking in silence.

It was Dominique who interrupted their daydreaming, sliding down to the floor between Leone’s legs. His warm and skilful tongue soon awakened her senses again. She moaned as she held the young man’s head against her stomach. With her free hand, she searched for Gérard’s penis; aroused by his fingers, it rose. Kneeling on the bunk, he brought his cock to the level of Leone’s mouth; she lapped at it gently like a cat drinking milk. Dominique helped her slide down on the cot, and pulling her up, lowered her down on his member. Gérard, disappointed, stroked himself gently. They all three climaxed together.

Leone fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. But her sleep didn’t last long. She was woken by a cock moving inside her. Later, one of the young men sodomized her. She barely had time to register the pain before she came again, at excruciating length.

Early in the morning, when the ticket controller knocked at the door to announce their arrival in Morzine station, she thought she wouldn’t even be able to stand up again, her whole body ached so much. Aching, but satisfied. She shrieked in horror when she saw herself in the mirror. The circles around her eyes spread all the way down to her cheeks, her lips were swollen from too many kisses and bites, her tangled hair gave her the look of a wild, wanton woman.

“I can’t go out like this. It looks as if I’ve…”

“Yes, you did,” the men answered, laughing.

She shrugged and tried to make herself presentable. Her night companions weren’t much of an improvement on her. Once she had dressed, they pulled her towards them.

“You don’t regret it? You know, it’s the first time we’ve made love to the same woman, together.”

“For me too, it was the first time,” she said, still a bit red-faced.

Dominique cupped her chin.

“You musn’t be ashamed. We fell for you at first sight and you for us and it was wonderful.”

She gave them each a big fat kiss on the cheeks, like you give to good friends, or children.

“Yes, it was wonderful.”

“So, are you staying on?” asked Gérard.

“No, it’s not possible. I’ll hire a cab to Geneva and will then catch the first plane back to Paris.”

They insisted but understood that she had made her mind up. “Keep an eye on my mother and my children disembarking, I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Gérard was the look-out while Dominique and Leone stayed back, huddled together, holding each other’s hand. Leone knew she could grow attached to this tender, handsome, blue-eyed boy who made love so well. But her own life was already so full, there was no place left for further adventures. She regretted it.

Gérard returned, he’d found a cab and seen the family leave in another.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you to Geneva?”

“No, thanks, I don’t enjoy farewells.”

She got into the taxi, turned back to wave at them. Dominique was running behind the car. She guessed what he was asking: “Your name, your address.” She looked away, smiled and settled down in the comfort of the seat. It was warm in the car, the snow-covered landscape was pretty in the morning light, the driver ignored her and remained silent. Images from the previous night floated back to the surface of her memory, raising exquisite feelings of pleasure. It felt like the dawn of time: before the creation of sin. She slept all the way to Geneva, a smile of ecstasy on her lips.