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Intermediary (Feuilly): September, 1831
I have seen Aimery look at many women since I realized I loved him, but it was not until that evening that I thought I might lose him to one. She was sitting with her back to the door, long, dark curls hanging down her back, and I could see his face in profile as I came in. He was smiling at her in a way I'd never seen him look at a woman, sweetly, amused, and with a sparkle in his eyes. I had only seen him look that way a very few times, and he had been smiling at me, then. It was the look of a man who has just told a joke, and followed it by saying that he was in love.
My heart skipped in my chest. I feared that whomever this girl was, he would leave with her, and no matter that I would like to hold him, that I would tell him between kisses how much I cared for him. She would be what I could not be, lovely and sensual, caring and sexual. He loved her; he no longer needed me. Aimery turned as I stood there, terrified and bewildered. "Daniel," he said, and his smile broadened. "Come and sit with us." I wanted to refuse, to let him sit with his new love so that I would never need to learn who she was or why he loved her, but the girl turned. She was heartbreakingly beautiful. Her pale face had a hint of roundness at the cheekbones -- she was young, then -- and her eyes were dark. She wore a little makeup, but it was skillfully applied, making her eyes seem that much wider and her lips that much redder and fuller, without the intrusion of too much cosmetics to ruin the illusion. It was hardly necessary; the lines of her face were nearly perfect, and when she smiled, she was innocent and enticing at once. She was Jehan. I coughed when I realized that, and they looked at each other and laughed. I wondered for a moment just how long I had been staring at him, admiring him and fearing that I would lose my lover to him. "What are you doing?" I asked when I caught my breath. "Are you mad?" "Of course not," Jehan said, and laughed again. "Come and sit," Aimery said again, though he was still chuckling. "The look on your face --" He shook his head and pulled out a chair for me. I sat and looked at Jehan again. He was wearing a pale green dress that, against all reason, suited him better than most clothing I had seen him wear. He was wearing the appropriate undergarments, which was at least as disconcerting as the appearance that he had somehow acquired a bosom. Every time I blinked, he was female again, and beautiful. I had to remind myself that he was only a painted boy playing a strange and dangerous game. "Why are you -- what possessed you, mon ami?" She blushed, and Jehan chuckled. It was still his laugh, unmistakably so. "It's only an experiment. A game, Daniel. Don't take on so." I frowned. "But why?" "To see what it would be like, because I could." Jehan waved a hand, a little more slowly than he normally might, as if he were a lady, which, in a way, he was. "It was Christophe's idea," Aimery admitted. He reached over to touch my shoulder. "Are you quite all right?" I glanced at him, not understanding why he had asked. "Of course I am." Aimery grinned. "Then you might stop staring at Jehan." I looked at the table. "I'm sorry -- I didn't realize." Jehan reached over and touched me on the shoulder. "It's all right." I looked up, and she was as radiant as the dawn, smiling at me with love and friendship in his eyes. I wanted to kiss him, or her, whomever it was, surpassingly lovely and kind. I took his hand and would have given him a more earnest sign of affection, but the door opened and Combeferre came in. I knew I couldn't explain any of what I was feeling to Audric, and I was not inclined to try, so I made my excuses and went into the main room of the café, where men were all in pants, reliably sensible or reliably drunk, but masculine in appearance. It was not until I sat down by myself that I realized that Jehan had been wearing some floral scent or other, too delicate for a dandy, too faint to serve the normal purpose of perfume. He smelled nothing like the men in the café proper. It was difficult to piece together any coherent thought about either of my friends when I was half listening for them, and half concentrating on remembering the sequence of my reactions to Jehan in his skirts. Aimery had been amused, at me, at him, in his inimitable manner of laughing without giving offense. Jehan -- it was easier to think of him as my friend, my brother, when he was not flirting with me and rustling petticoats. I did not want anything from him, not when I could think, not when I thought of him as a brother. But when he was someone else, something else, I wanted him. It felt dishonest to desire him in his artifice, because of the artifice, when I knew as well as he did that it was only a game, but the dishonesty did not decrease my -- lust. Aimery didn't feel betrayed; I don't know if he ever would, over that. But I still felt as though I was being unfaithful to him by wanting Jehan, Jeannette. I told myself what I already knew -- that Aimery most likely wanted me to react as I did, and that it was no stranger than any of the young ladies he had seduced and brought home on a night when he was expecting me. This could easily be no different than that, those soft young things I could kiss and fondle when I could not yet touch him, those girls who were the love I shared with him, for a night. If they had stayed longer, there would have been trouble, they would have wanted to be more than what they were to us, but they were enough. Jehan was no intermediary, no stranger who'd go in the morning and never be seen again. He was my brother and his own person -- beautiful, strange, and somehow intoxicating when dressed in clothes that made him different than what he usually was. I wanted him, I wanted her, because I knew I could want a girl though I would not want a boy, except for Aimery. The door slammed in the back room. I wondered if that had been Audric in a rage or Aimery and Jehan leaving together to avoid him. I sat a few moments, wondering if I should look for Aimery if he'd left, wondering what Audric would say to me if he was there, or what I would say to Jehan if he was there. I got up and went down the hall to the back room, then tapped on the door. Aimery answered. I went in, half-relieved and half-wishing that I would not have had to see him, nor Jehan, that evening. Jehan was in his arms, slim, handsome, beautiful. I wanted them both with a ferocity of desire that surprised me. I wanted to leave, and let them be alone, but I also wanted to stay. I suspected that if I stayed long enough, Aimery would understand what I could never articulate -- the strength of my affection and love for them both, and the effect that Jehan, Jeannette, had on me. He knew as soon as I came back, and Jehan must have known, too. I dithered until he kissed me, at which point I doubt I could have gone home alone happily. I needed Aimery's reassurance, which he gladly gave, and then we left together and talked of nothing in particular until we arrived at Aimery's flat. Jeannette was ever more feminine as we walked, in order to preserve the illusion for any passerby. That did not fade in private. She embraced me and kissed me -- not in a manner that any girl has ever kissed me, more hungrily perhaps. I could feel the lines of her undergarments under my hands, and the hint of something between her legs until she stepped back a little, sparing my sensibilities and flirting with my lover all at the same time. I offered to leave again, and they both told me to stay. There was a knot in my stomach of lust and tension, something like fear and something like love. I didn't want to go, but I would have if they'd told me they'd changed their minds. We all sat on the bed, which creaked a little. They both had their arms around me, and I was kissing Jehan while Aimery undressed me. Every so often, Jehan would let me go and say something appropriately coquettish for Jeannette, make a little gesture that brought the illusion back. By the time my shirt was crumpled on the floor and my pants were open, I was thoroughly aroused and not thinking at all about Jehan, sweet brother, dear friend. Aimery knew from years of experience how to drive me to distraction and beyond it. I lay on his bed in his arms, my hands on his bare back and the fabric of his trousers scratching against my legs. I wasn't thinking of anything but how good his hands felt, until Jehan cleared his throat. I blinked at Jeannette, the handsome girl, the beautiful boy. She had repainted her lips recently, for surely I had smudged more of the paint from them than what she wore. "You're taking up the whole bed," she said lightly, and I realized he was still wearing the dress and its associated accoutrements. "Ah. My apologies, ma cherie," Aimery said, and moved so that she could sit at the foot of the bed. She sat, and in a rustling movement she knelt, then bent her head and began, without further ceremony, to suck me with more gusto than any woman I'd ever had in a similar position. His curls fell around his face, framing his wide, bright red mouth and his powder-pale skin. Aimery kissed me, perhaps afraid that I would find another objection to this breathtaking spectacle. I returned the kiss, then found his hand and squeezed it. "Let me -- I want to see this, cher." Aimery smiled at me. Jehan stopped for a moment and smiled at me. For a moment, it was all real, and terrifying -- how could I ask such a thing of someone who was not my lover, someone whom I respected? I shivered and made a move to get up, but Aimery put a hand on my hip. "Daniel. It's all right." He kissed me and touched my cheek gently, as he used to do when I feared making love to him. I closed my eyes. "It's lovely," I said, aware that I was making a dangerous admission, and giving them permission to go on. And they did, with apparent pleasure. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see Jehan. If I could tell myself it wasn't him, everything would be enjoyable. I tangled my fingers in her hair, and heard what was nearly a giggle. Aimery kissed me again in the midst of it. I was loved and desired, embraced and caressed all at once. Everything was painfully perfect, impossibly wonderful. I must have said something that I was too distracted to hear. I opened my eyes again when Aimery was about to kiss me. "Ah, so you're not asleep," he said, and ran a hand down my chest. "Not quite. Not yet, no." I sat up a bit. Jeannette had retired to the chair by Aimery's desk and was fixing her cosmetics. I reached for the sheet -- she was still dressed, and Aimery still had his pants on. "I'm sorry," I said to her. "And -- thank you." She glanced up from her little mirror and smiled. "You're very welcome, Daniel. It was my pleasure." I frowned. "No. I don't think it was. If you want, I could --" Aimery interrupted me with a kiss, then said lightly, "Now, chéri. Don't go seducing her, will you? We have plans. Come back to bed, Jeannette; I want you inside me." I sat up the rest of the way. "I'll leave." Jeannette rustled over to the bed and kissed me. She tasted of fresh lipstick, and when she deepened the kiss, I had to pull away. It was too bizarre to taste myself on her tongue. She said, "Please, stay." "But --" I began to protest. She kissed me again. "Don't go, Daniel. It would be rude, wouldn't it?" "I don't think I can do anything for you," I admitted. It was embarrassing that I had asked anything of Jehan, though I knew I could not reciprocate. I felt as though I had obligated Aimery to act as my second, then lost the duel before we'd reached the appointed time. "You needn't." She smiled. "After all, if I wanted something from you, I would have to turn down Aimery's generous offer, and I don't think I could do that." I looked away from her. "All right." Aimery put a hand on my shoulder and I turned to him. He was as serious then as he'd been all evening. "If you're too uncomfortable, neither of us will be offended if you go. Right, Jehan?" Jehan said, "No, of course you can go if you want," and not in the higher register he'd been speaking in as Jeannette. "I was teasing, mostly." I nodded. "All right. Could I have my shirt, please?" Jehan handed it to me with a flourish. I pulled it on, though it was rumpled and spattered with green dots from the day's work. "Thank you." Once I was no longer naked, I got out of bed and embraced Jeannette. "You are too kind to me. I don't understand, entirely." She kissed me, and this time I did not flinch. "Everything's all right, mon frére. Truly." Aimery yawned abruptly, then chuckled and apologized. "Come to bed, Jeannette. It's getting late." She turned and smiled at him. "Not too late, I hope." I let her go and she retrieved a bottle of oil from inside the bedside table with the deft fingers of one who knows exactly where to look. She got into bed with him and clucked her tongue. "Why are you still wearing pants?" "A grave oversight." He took them off and tossed them to the end of the bed. "Better?" He was naked, and as handsome in his nudity as ever. She was still fully dressed, save for her shoes. "That's much better, yes." She glanced at me. "And are you going to want to move that chair?" I shrugged and tried to pretend I hadn't been watching them avidly. "I -- I don't know." Aimery reached over and I took his hand. "Stay close by," he said. "Please. -- If you can." I nodded, let him go, and pulled the chair as close to the head of the bed as I could comfortably put it. While I did that, Jeannette said, "On your stomach, chéri?" and Aimery agreed and shifted accordingly. "God, Aimé," she said, and her voice was Jehan's for a moment. "You're damnably handsome." He tucked his arms under his chin. "Oh? Thank you, ma chérie." "It's only the truth." And it was, from where I sat. By the light of the candle on the table, I could see them both clearly -- Aimery stretched out luxuriously on his bed, every line of his body familiar to me, and Jeannette in her skirts sitting near his waist. "All right, love," she said, not entirely a question, and he bit his lip for a moment. She had slid a finger inside him. I had to look away, then. I knew what that intimacy felt like from both sides; to watch it was briefly overpowering, perhaps more so because I knew the look on Aimery's face as he relaxed into the sensation. I could see his expression in my mind and imagine the clench of his muscles clearly. I clenched one of my hands into a fist and let the pain as the nails dug into my palm bring me back to my senses. Aimery was sighing by the time I was able to watch again. "Jeannette," he said, his voice lower than normal, "please -- you don't have to be careful. I've been waiting for this all night." "Really?" She reached under her skirts and spread them so that the hem was high on his back. She closed her eyes for a moment, then shifted forward a bit. "It probably does you good to wait for something, Aimé." "I don't care if it does. Please." She grinned at me a moment, then shook her head. "All right, impatient one." Jeannette braced herself with one hand on the mattress, and fumbled under her skirts with the other. Aimery moaned and said, "Ah, Jeannette," as though he'd been practicing, as though he did not have the clearest evidence that it was Jehan under those skirts. "Dear Aimery," she said, more breathily alto than before. After a few moments, she stopped bracing herself with one hand and switched to the other in order to run her fingernails down his back. He twisted on the bed and pushed back against her, which made her laugh, bright and girlish. "Oh, you like that?" "Yes. Please --" he hissed as she did it again. "Wicked girl." "Anything to oblige." He opened his eyes again and looked at me. "Kiss me, Daniel. Please?" I had been enjoying the spectacle they presented, Jeannette the far-from innocent girl and Aimery, debauched under her draperies.This was probably my only opportunity to participate; I suspected Aimery was on the verge of coming, and Jehan could not have much more endurance. I stood and knelt by the bed to kiss him just as Jeannette made him moan again. "Shh, chéri," I said softly to him, though I doubted he heard. Kissing him was a much more effective way to quiet him, though the angle was slightly awkward. It did not take terribly long, after he'd asked for a kiss, before he cried out against my mouth, and a few moments later, Jehan whimpered a little. I sat back on my heels and watched the last of the tension leave Jeannette's body. She sat back, much as I had, and laughed. "You're splendid, both of you." I shrugged. "I had very little to do with anything." It was just as well that I had accepted her earlier overtures, or I would have wanted to ask them for more than they had the energy to give. As it was, I knew I would see them together in my fantasies, but I was not aroused then. "It isn't that often that I have an audience," Jehan said as he got up, a little shakily. "Could you help me get out of this contrivance?" "Gladly." Aimery yawned and rolled onto his side so that he was facing us. "We ought to do this more often." I shrugged. "I don't know, really. I -- wouldn't presume on Jehan." Jehan looked over his shoulder toward me. I saw his face in profile, still painted, still beautiful. "It wouldn't be a presumption." "It would," I explained as I loosened his stays, "if I asked you to wear all of this, every time." He looked ahead again. "Ah." "And I wouldn't ask that." Aimery said, "It was only a thought." I helped Jehan out of the last layer of undergarments. He was unintimidating in the extreme, naked, vulnerable, and young under his paints. He turned and hugged me. "Do you mind if I stay?" I kissed his cheek. "Of course I don't mind." Aimery blew out the candle and left us all blinking in the dark. "Come to bed, mes amis." Somehow, I ended up between them, Aimery's comforting, familiar warmth at my back, and my arm around Jehan's slim body. "Goodnight," I said, once we'd all exchanged light kisses. Aimery squeezed me for a moment. "Goodnight." Jehan reached back and patted my hip. "Goodnight."
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