Speak Softly My Love by Louis Shalako Read Free Book Online Page A

boys down there could literally smell
her in all her glory. Tailler, having come in the door ahead of
him, had grabbed the first table he’d seen in a kind of defense
mechanism.
    They
were at a table more or less in the darkest corner.
    Emile
engaged him with a look and a nod, eyes slightly glazed as if he
couldn’t quite believe his luck. There was something of the look of
a three or four year-old child on Christmas morning—just when they
come to that age when they can truly comprehend. They become aware
of the larger world around them. They can finally detect something
other than their own stomach, their own bowels, their own little
world of toys and play and crying all the time. They could almost
hold their own shit in at that point.
    There
was just the hint of white around Tailler’s eyes.
    He’s
walked into a candy store and the owner has died of a heart
attack—you’re nine years old and you can see all the infinite
possibilities inherent in the situation.
    “ An invoice is another name for the conscience.”
    “ What?”
    Tailler’s head bobbed and a serious look crossed that
pleasantly-ugly mug.
    “ What about…?” Tailler was wondering what she might think of all
this…
    “ Emmanuelle?” Hubert shrugged.
    Tailler
looked away. The girl was staring deeply into his eyes as she
rolled around, going from side to side on her back, lifting her
legs wide open in a V and sliding her hands up and down her inner
thighs.
    Emile
licked his lips, totally unconscious of the picture
presented.
    “ Oh, boy.” Hubert heaved a sigh. “You know how it is. What she
doesn’t know can’t hurt me.”
    Tailler
chuckled dutifully. On balance, Hubert could have done without the
reminder, but in his opinion no real harm would come of it. As for
the drinking, it would be interesting to see how that progressed.
He and Emmanuelle were engaged, and he was saving up for a really
good ring.
    Until then, there were mutual intentions and promises made.
That didn’t necessarily mean he was enslaved to the girl. He
certainly hadn’t gone blind or anything like that.
    For
crying out loud.
    He
raised his glass in salute.
    “ Normally, I drink alone.”
    “ Huh?”
    “ It’s just that I can’t stand alcoholics.”
    Tailler
laughed. Hubert thought that one was pretty good too. It was the
first time he’d ever thought of it.
    That’s
not to say Hubert wouldn’t have done it in a heartbeat, because he
would have. It wasn’t just their present entertainment, either. It
wasn’t just dancers, or Emmanuelle herself. There were plenty of
women in the world. That much was true. But they were safely out of
town, no one had the slightest clue of where they were or what they
were up to.
    It only
made sense to have a good time, after all.
    He’d
been putting some thought into how they best might exploit the
situation.
    In all
honesty, he really didn’t have any big ideas and this was probably
going to be it. For all intents and purposes.
    Just
watching Tailler was revealing.
    Fuck, it
was downright educational.
    The guy
was probably thinking...he would be thinking of his mother and the
Monsignor. The village priest would loom large in his thoughts. He
would suddenly realize, thought Hubert with a wicked smile; that he
would be going straight to hell. As soon as God found out about
it…
    If he
hadn’t already thought of it. This thought alone, was almost enough
of a reward. You took amusement in all things, and sooner or later
you had to die.
    As for the music, it was predictable enough in its own
way—the girls always had to have something danceable in their illusory little
world. Like fucking who cared. He could take it or leave
it.
    The song
ended and the girl got up abruptly. She moved like a deer or
something, going over to where the gramophone was set up in a
little alcove off to one side. As natural as breathing, his eyes
followed along. It was all part of the show, in the grand spectacle
that was life.
    She
changed recordings