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This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
from Daniel Vian: SABINE
Copyright (c) 1989 Daniel Vian
All Rights Reserved
Published by Spectrum Press Inc.
ISBN 1-57138-375-1
<specpress@earthlink.net>
Sabine at Sea
Two days out of Valparaiso: April 17, 1936
From here the sky is so sad. From here there is nothing but
the open sky, the bowl of the sky above the ocean a vast blue
emptiness, an endless blue world. We see only a single cloud, a
small white cloud shaped like a breast, the nipple of the breast
pointing to the zenith, a nipple so turgid it begs for the lips.
Sabine looks at the ocean, the cloud, the sky, the endless
blue. She sits in a deck chair with a glass of lemonade in her
left hand.
The deck of the ship dazzles the eyes: the white, the
boards, the white posts, the gleaming white enamel on the stacks,
the white funnels.
Over there are people strolling along the rail: two
passengers with linked arms. Italians? They both wear white
clothes. The man is decently dressed. The woman is completely out
of fashion, as thin as a stick and her dress too long. She wears
a cloche hat, but the style no longer suits her.
The breeze changes. First it appears, then dallies, then
vanishes again. Always blowing from the west. Sabine thinks it's
the west. She's an awful sailor, completely ignorant. This
morning Leon laughed at her ignorance, and she had to warn him.
And where is Santiago? Over there, somewhere beyond the
horizon. Santiago, Santiago; goodbye Santiago. Goodbye to the
Mapocho and the Santa Lucia and the Alameda de las Delicias. Oh
dear yes, the Alameda de las Delicias, Sabine muses. Ch‚rie, your
mind is twisted in its memories. One should not sit facing the
land when one is leaving it.
She decides to adjust her fichu to hide her breasts. That
Roman bitch will frown, a thin frown gurgling out of the mud of
the Tiber. And in any case Sabine does not want the sun there.
The skin between the breasts should be milk-white, like the white
of the deck, the purest of whites.
That portrait painter in Vina del Mar with the white paint
on his nose. Zinc white, he said. Sabine, this is the purest of
zinc-white. Well, he wasn't that charming, was he?
Now she thinks of Leon again. Leon has a passion for silk.
Silk drawers. Silk stockings. He adores her silk stockings. The
garters. The ribbons. His tongue licking along the ribbons.
Sabine amuses herself thinking of Leon's tongue. And now the
Roman bitch is here, and the man of course is smiling at Sabine
with another glance at her ankles. Yes, my sweet, you may kiss my
foot. Sabine would have him groveling while the Roman bitch
screams with jealousy.
Is it easy? No, it is not easy. Not simple. Nothing is
simple in this life.
Sabine likes the name of this ship. Reina del Pacifico. The
Queen. Yes, she likes the name.
Away now, the Italians are away, and once again Sabine sits
here alone.
Leon, will you really abandon me?
Sabine considers it, then she tells herself that truly if
Leon dies he will certainly not be there for her.
But of course she'll have something more than memories.
She thinks of Leon's face. Last evening before dinner he was
on his knees with that red flush in his face. What an absurd time
to speak to her of calamities. One does not want calamities at a
quarter to eight in the evening. First he cajoles her into
lifting her dress to have a sniff at her, and then he speaks to
her of calamities.
She wanted to kick him.
Ch‚rie, you must think.
Is the captain handsome? Sabine thought she would see the
captain at dinner last evening, but his table was empty. Isn't
that strange? One expects things.
Leon does adore Sabine's white hat. "Sabine, I adore you."
He mumbles at her while his face tickles the insides of her
thighs above her silk stockings.
Now one of the waiters arrives with a silver tray in his
hand. Sabine orders a coffee, and when the coffee is brought to
her she tips the waiter. Sabine notices the waiter looks tired,
and she wonders if he has a girl somewhere. Is he Chilean? From
Santiago? A girl in Santiago? Sabine tells herself that Santiago
was indeed lovely, and she did have a lovely time with Leon, all
those lovely hours on the boulevards and the parties in the cool
evenings and her secret amusements when she was in the mood for
them. Dark-eyed boys near the cathedral. Darling, don't think of
that now. You mustn't think of it, because it's all gone and the
weather is much too hot for it.
She does want to see Paris again.
She will not think of calamities.
* * *
In their cabin, Leon smiles at Sabine.
"Did you enjoy the deck?"
"Yes, I liked it. You ought to get some sun."
"In the afternoon, I suppose."
"Leon, you must tell me the truth about that business."
"Darling, what business?"
"Your illness."
Leon turns away.
"I'm reaching the end."
"You're still young."
"Don't be silly, I'm past sixty."
"You must tell me about it. I mean about your illness."
"My dear, it's the heart. They don't last, you know. One
can't go on forever, can one?"
"That's absurd."
"Absurd?"
"I don't like this game."
"But it's not a game."
"Leon, I refuse to accept it. You know how annoyed I
become."
"Yes, I do know."
"You're as healthy as a young man."
"I'm afraid I'll die before we reach Cherbourg."
"No."
"Yes, my darling."
"Oh Leon."
"Certainly before we reach Cherbourg."
"I refuse to believe it. I won't leave this cabin until you
tell me that it's not true."
"Darling, you must believe me. And we must go on as always.
You're a young woman, and you must go on. It's almost time for
lunch now and I want you with me."
"I'll change my clothes. I'll wear black."
Leon groans.
"Sabine, please..."
"Well, I'll change my clothes just the same."
He sits and watches her as she undresses. He sits there with
his eyes so bright and his fingers pulling at his chin. Can he
possibly be at death's door? Sabine is uneasy. What does she know
about such things? When he sees her in her chemise, he reaches
out to touch her hip.
Sabine frowns.
"You seem healthy enough for that."
Leon chuckles.
"Yes."
Everything off now. She stands there wearing nothing but her
white stockings and her white slippers. She does like white.
Leon's eyes are fixed on her belly, on her thicket. She moves
closer to where he sits and she holds one of her breasts to his
mouth.
"Suck this one."
He sucks. His lips wet and clinging. His nose tickling her
breast.
"Leon, tell me it's not true."
His lips make a smacking sound as they pull away from her
nipple.
"But it is."
"The doctors in Santiago are fools."
"I haven't seen any doctors."
"My God."
"Darling, a doctor isn't necessary. I'll be dead before
Cherbourg, and nothing will stop it."
He continues sucking her breasts. She feeds him. First the
right and then the left. Her nipples are like hard pebbles, dark
pebbles glistening now as Leon's lips glisten.
Oh yes.
Sabine shudders.
She hides the shuddering. It's never any good to let them
see the shuddering. She watches his mouth. She feels the
quivering in her sex, the hot tingling, the lovely heat of it.
She pushes him away.
"That's enough, Leon. If I'm to dress for lunch, I need to
get on with it."
* * *
A noisy crowd in the dining room. Mostly Chileans, Sabine
thinks. All these Italians speaking Spanish. Or they might be
Spaniards speaking Spanish. Joking with the waiters about the
menu.
Sabine and Leon have fish and white wine. Leon eats his food
with gusto, and Sabine refuses to accept the notion that he's
dying.
She has an aversion to the midday meal on this ship.
Something for the Germans. Are the Germans at it again? And here
in this dining room ten thousand miles around the underside of
the world. Those Teutonic faces in the corner near that ugly
plant. That German jeweler in Valparaiso?
Now she sees the captain of the ship. His lovely white
uniform. An Englishman with pink cheeks and a red mustache,
smiling as he bows to his passengers. Sabine considers the
captain. With the English the mustache is a deception. They
rarely know what to do with it; they rarely know how to tickle
with it. Still, the red mustache is intriguing. The captain might
be knowledgeable. If he knows how to maneuver his mustache.
Sabine thinks about the captain of the Reina del Pacifico
tickling her gigi with his red mustache. Fore and aft, dear
captain; fore and aft.
Leon talks with equanimity about his impending death.
"One must be philosophical."
"Leon, I will not allow this game to continue. I'll punish
you for it."
"Sabine, please..."
"You're not serious."
"I'm quite serious. One is always serious about one's own
death.".
His mouth is distracting. All the amusements crowd Sabine's
mind. Leon's mouth in the cabin less than an hour ago.
And the eyes of the men. She has the eyes of the men on her.
Their imaginings. That one with his defiant chin so eager to
nestle against her proclivities.
All the women in the room seem to be talking at once,
fingers waving like tentacles, their red lips continually
opening, closing, opening again.
"Sabine, you've hardly touched your fish."
"I'm thinking."
* * *
The ship's doctor is a young Englishman with hair the color
of sand and eyes the color of a pale blue sky. The eyes gaze at
Sabine, at her face, at her breasts, at the flesh of her arms.
Sabine nods at the English doctor.
"I'm here concerning Monsieur Mabeuf. Monsieur Leon Mabeuf."
"Your husband, madam?"
"My benefactor."
"I see."
See what? What is it that he sees?
"Are you the doctor?"
"Yes, madam. And what seems to be the trouble with Monsieur
Mabeuf?"
"He talks about dying. He seems to think be's going to die
very Soon. Is that possible?"
The doctor shrugs. An English shrug.
"Is Monsieur Mabeuf ill?"
"I don't know. I don't think so."
The air in the infirmary has a sweet smell. Is it ether? Yes
of course. Even on a ship one must have the smell of it. Sabine
quivers. She hates hospitals.
The doctor's eyes are on Sabine's breasts again, and Sabine
imagines his brain in a fever as he thinks of his nose against
her skin.
"Tell me about Monsieur Mabeuf," the doctor says.
"He's a man of sixty and he's quite rational."
"I see."
He sees again.
"Doctor, what do you think?"
"I suppose I ought to examine him. I'll go to his cabin if
you like."
* * *
Sabine waits in the ship's salon. She sits alone, and she
thinks about Leon and the doctor. She imagines herself in the
doctor's infirmary again. But now he's to examine Sabine and not
Leon. He points at the white screen in the corner, and he asks
Sabine to remove her clothes. Does he watch her as she walks
across the room? Behind the screen, Sabine feels an excitement as
she undresses. She touches the points of her nipples. She thinks
about the English doctor. She wants the truth about Leon. The
ship is rolling now, and Sabine finds the movement pleasant. She
finishes undressing but she leaves her stockings on. She walks
away from the screen wearing her stockings and slippers and as
soon as the doctor sees her the pink color of his face becomes
darker. Sabine walks towards him like a naughty postcard come to
life. Yes, the English doctor is blushing, and he has a superb
erection. When Sabine finally stands before him, she can see the
dimensions in his trousers. She fixes her eyes on the twitching
of his penis.
"Do show it to me," Sabine says.
The doctor groans. He glances at the door.
"Dear God..."
He stands paralyzed. Then finally he yields. He brings his
penis out. The knob is only half exposed.
Sabine tells him to pull the hood back.
"You want to show the knob a bit more."
The doctor's eyes are glazed. Sabine stares calmly at the
wet tip of his organ. He groans. She watches as he curls his
fingers around the column of swollen flesh. The doctor trembles.
He shows a madness in his eyes. His fingers begin moving. Sabine
watches it carefully. She watches until he groans again, until
the pearls begin flying...
------------------------------
End Extract
This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
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