Chapter 3 Before the Cloud Burst

The Present Day

April

I settled back on the soft leather upholstery of the car and sighed. It still bore the slight scent of my husband, his cologne, spicy with a dash of citrus.

*

Shutting my eyes, I went over what the doctor had just told me.

Old Dr Shah was the same doctor who had examined me when I was carrying Claude. He had studied me keenly.

'Mrs St. Claire,' he said without any preamble,' "you know that you are pregnant?' I had sat down, the fluttering in my stomach making me feel weak.

He went on, avoiding my eyes,

'You are now...?' he raised his brows and studied me as I nodded weakly as he pursed his lips and tapped the pad on his desk thoughtfully,

'Mid-thirties, I assume?'

"Congratulations, my dear,' he said, a genuine smile on his face,

'No need to look so worried. You are healthy and strong. You already have...ahem...six children?'

I nodded again, my mind abuzz with so many thoughts.

How would Gaston react when I told him that I was expecting our seventh child? My husband was in his mid-fifties now. Would he be furious?

*

I had been eighteen when I first turned up at Gaston St. Claire's Club, the infamous Lounge, a gentleman's Club. It was notorious for the sexual dalliances that took place within the sprawling building but at eighteen.

I had been young, foolish and for once, impetuous. I had gone there to confront a young man who had been very rude. He had not expressed the slightest interest in me; he had actually dismissed me as being gauche and not his type. Burdened with the knowledge that I was an unwanted child, I had been stung and dressing up in my roommates' flashy clothes, and aware that with my round hips and full breasts, which were perfectly visible in the tight-fitting dress, I had stormed over in a fit of bravado, determined to make the fellow eat his words...

But instead, I had run into Gaston St. Claire, the Mafia Don who owned the Club. Cold and cruel, with his rugged face and flint-like eyes. The man whose touch had made me fall in love with him, instantaneously.

The only man who had ever claimed my body.

*

The encounter between us had been rash and passionate.

There had been no gentleness, no Love as such when we ended up in each other's arms, more like a flame, a spark that had reached unexpectedly epic proportions. He had seemed as taken aback as I was by the ferocity of our lovemaking if it could be called that. He had been a man in his late thirties well versed in claiming and dominating women in bed while I was still an inexperienced teenager, naïve and raw.

But my innocence, my willingness to submit to him, had seemed to strike a chord in him; we had spent a night of frenzied passion, that very first night and I had been branded forever by Gaston St Claire, without even knowing who he was , how dangerous an individual he was...

I had only had a rather lame experience of making love. A quick fumble in the seat of a truck with a boy around my age who had disappeared from my life after that awkward rendezvous that was all I knew of lovemaking.

This physical encounter, when he overpowered my senses with his rough hands and his mouth, his large, thick manhood, all of it had left me staggered.

And craving for more, so much more.

But his cynical dismissal of me at the end of what was for me, a lifetime experience, had made me run away in humiliation that night.

*

Yet I had not been able to forget him. My heart ached for him, my body pined for his possession. The stranger who had taught me what lovemaking between a man and a woman was all about.

After fleeing from him in the wee hours of the dawn, ashamed of his cold, almost contemptuous dismissal of me, I had spent the following days I a fugue of misery, unable to forget the stranger who had possessed me so completely.

*

Later, I had met him again, when I had gone to attend a party at the urging of my roommates. I had not been able to get over him, the lover who had brought my body alive, made me aware of what passion was...

To my shock, horror and a multitude of emotions I could not name, I had seen him again; for he had been the millionaire magnate and underworld Don who was hosting the party at his mansion.

Even though I tried to hide, he had spotted me straight away.

And that had been it.

Gaston St. Claire wanted me and when he wanted something, he got it.

I was like clay in his hands, helpless to resist.

He had branded his possession on me that night, all night long, as we made mindless love and he taught me the nuances of lovemaking....

Fascinated by me, my innocence, he had taken me for himself and I had willingly surrendered to him.

*

There had been no looking back. He had claimed me for himself that night, a long night of erotic passion, when he had shown me what it was to be pleasured and how to pleasure him. He was a good teacher, well-versed and adept.

And I?

A willing, obedient and eager pupil.

So I became Gaston St. Claire's mistress. He was almost twenty years older than me but I loved him, adored him, and worshipped him. And like every foolish girl, I imagined that I would be the one to change him.

Poor fool that I was.

*

In my defense, I thought wretchedly, as I sat in the car on the drive back after meeting the gynecologist, I had been on the pill, diligently.

After having been through events that sounded straight out of a thriller, we were still together, my Mafia Don and I.

And the passion that sizzled between us was as blinding, as powerful as before.

Even more potent, I had thought as he made me shudder in ecstasy as he pulverized my body with his large, thick manhood, his fist in my hair, growling into my ear,

'You belong to me, woman. Only ever mine.'

And he seemed to pound the very walls of my womb, my G-spot, as I cried out his name and surrendered to him as he sank his teeth into my neck, biting as he exploded in me.

We had returned from a holiday in Portugal, just my husband and I, three months back. And at some time during those torrid nights and days of making love and rediscovering each other, away from our large brood of seven children, I had been impregnated by him.

*

That had been three months ago but something had gradually altered in our lives Busy as I was, I had not really comprehended. Like a simple fool, I had put down Gaston's growing coolness towards me to his growing responsibilities because of his expanding work interests.

Those nights as we lay in each other's arms, as he nipped my neck and his fingers cleverly made me scream his name as he teased my swollen clit, those nights of passion seemed so distant.

Today, I sat alone and feeling wretched in the comfortable back seat of the sedan as it glided through the streets, it felt as though it had happened a life time ago...