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At first glance it could be hard to understand how a man of Monsieur Thénardier’s size could be just as intimidating as he was, but then again, Thénardier was no ordinary man. He was a man of a small posture, wispy and scrawny, but there was malice in his eyes and his grin was wicked. And he had influence. He had influence over some of the most feared criminals of the underworld of Paris… and that’s where Montparnasse came into the picture. He was one of those criminals, at the age of nineteen he already had buckets of blood on his hands, and still Monsieur Thénardier could intimidate even him. Especially on one certain night, even though Montparnasse towered over him where they stood, he still felt like an insecure little boy.
“Did I not help you escape from jail without even expecting anything in return? Did I not save you from that knife-wielding harlot without being rewarded with even so much as your spit? Isn’t that so, Montparnasse?”
“You did.”
“And now I need your help. More than that, I demand it.”
“Speak.”
“There is this woman I am in debt to, and as you know I don’t have any money to give her.”
“Well, neither have I.”
“Let me finish. This certain lady just so happens to be immensely fond of young, beautiful men. Young, beautiful men such as yourself.”
“And…?”
“And I am completely sure that she will accept some payment… well, in kind, so to speak.”
“And by that you mean that I should pay her with my body? Or, rather, that you should pay her with my body?”
“You’re a clever boy, Montparnasse.”
“I refuse.”
“You cannot refuse. Not this time.”
“Merde.”
“You can curse all you want. You will meet her in three hours. Her name is Mademoiselle Duval. Let me write down her address for you.”
Montparnasse grunted. He was absolutely disgusted. How could he possibly let himself sink that low? He? He was no simple prostitute, he was a feared criminal, he was a beautiful dandy who could bed almost any woman or man he wanted, hell, men and women were practically lined up to spread their legs for him, and now this? Helping that old bastard to pay off his debt by whoring himself out? He spat on the ground and kicked away a bottle some drunkard had left on the street. He watched it roll away and sighed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this furious. After ten minutes of walking he got do the address. A large, white house surrounded by a rose garden. Pah! Like that wench needed any of Thénardier’s stinking, filthy money anyway! He spat again, right outside the door, before knocking hard on it. He just wanted this disgusting business to be over with.
A tall brunette in her forties or so opened the door. Montparnasse looked at her with disrelish. She was dressed in a dark blue dress and stank of some much too sweet perfume. Bloody bourgeoisie swine, he thought, how the hell am I supposed to get it up for her? He raised an eyebrow and said, in an incurious voice;
“Mademoiselle Duval, I presume.”
“Oh, darling, call me Claudette. It’s much easier to moan ‘Claudette’ than to moan ‘Mademoiselle Duval’.” She snickered. “And you are Montparnasse. Goodness gracious, Thénardier told me that you would suit my tastes just perfectly, and I have to confess that I’m not the least bit disappointed. Come in, sweet boy.”
Montparnasse let out a small, annoyed huff. Like hell he would moan her name. Like hell he would moan at all. He hated her already. He had barely stepped inside before Duval clasped his hand and pulled him to her bedroom, which, unsurprisingly, was large and had a huge, soft bed. She laid herself on it, stretching out luxuriously, and winked at Montparnasse.
“Come on, boy. Show me what you’ve got. Don’t be shy.”
“I’m not shy”, Montparnasse thought, “just bloody furious.” He started to undress quickly.
“Ah-ah. Not so fast, now, let me enjoy the view for a little while.” Montparnasse sighed and slowed down a bit. “Good boy, that’s more like it. Hmm, I like your chest. All hairless, just the way I prefer a boy’s chest to be. Did you like my rose garden? The white roses are my favourites. Oh, what a cute little belly you have, flat as a canvas. And such fine ivory skin… and those lips of yours, they remind me of my red roses. I’m curious to find out what you can do with those.” Montparnasse sighed and unclasped his suspenders before unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down with a grunt. “Turn around. Ah… what a cute little bottom!” She giggled and poured up two glasses of champagne. Montparnasse sighed, for the love of… “Now, come to bed and have a drink with me before we start.”
“Well,” Montparnasse thought, “perhaps it will be easier to get it up with some alcohol in me.” He sat down on the bed and grabbed one of the glasses, emptying it with one gulp.
“Greedy little boy”, she said with a snicker and refilled his glass. While he drank, she started to undress herself. Montparnasse raised an eyebrow and decided not to look at her until he really had to. She seated herself on the bed and emptied her glass. “How sullen you look”, she said and put her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Didn’t you like the champagne?” He shrugged. He liked the champagne, in fact, he loved it, but he didn’t want to make her happy by telling her so. He almost made a disgusted grimace when he noticed that she was all naked except for an expensive looking necklace. Really? Does she even have to show off her wealth when she’s about to have sex? Like the luxurious bedroom and the champagne weren’t enough.
“Lay down on your back…” Her voice was soft as honey, she probably tried to be seductive. Did she really think that he wanted this? To be used like a whore? She climbed on top of him, running her fingers through his hair. “Your hair is so beautiful… This is one of the reasons I prefer my men to be young. Thick, rich hair, I don’t fancy balding gentlemen.” She gave him a kiss, stuck her venomous tongue right down his throat, or so it felt. He returned it with a stiff tongue, he wasn’t going to play along and pretend that he enjoyed it. “Touch me.” He put his hands on her back and stroked her a little. All he wanted to do was to scratch her like he was an angry kitten, but she’d probably just like that. “Having trouble getting it up, hmm? I am disappointed. I expected more from a boy of nineteen… Or are you, per chance, a sodomite? Thénardier didn’t send me a little bugger, did he?” Montparnasse let out a loud, disgusted huff. “I take it that you’re not, then.” Sure, he fancied men. He liked men a lot, but he liked women too. That wasn’t the problem, she was the problem, and frankly, he was surprised that she didn’t realize that. Sure, she could probably coax plenty of young men into sleeping with her, but he was not one of them. This was business, and business only. Fucking Thénardier, that bloody hog.
She rubbed herself against him, her sagging breasts against his chest, the pendant on her necklace cold against his bare skin. “Let me help you take care of your problem, little boy. I can’t make love to you when you’re as soft as a withering flower.” She climbed off him and started stroking him between the legs. She let out an impatient sigh and stroked him faster until he finally got hard. “That’s much better. Hmm… The length of your cane is alright, I guess, but the circumference is definitely lacking… Well, not much to do to that, I guess.” This made Montparnasse absolutely furious, more so than before, and he let out a loud hiss between clenched teeth. If it wasn’t for the fact that his prick still was being stroked he would have grown limp immediately. Duval just laughed and shook her head. “You’re just like a little kitten. Now, be a man instead and take me.” Merde, he thought, he wished that she would be on top. He didn’t want to make any effort, but now he had to. His face was still distorted in an annoyed grimace when he climbed on top of her and penetrated her. He started to fuck her in a rough, fast pace, hoping that he would orgasm soon, even though that was highly unlikely. Much to his luck she started to moan, clutch the skin of his back and tell him to go even harder. He wouldn’t know what to do if she had begged him to slow down instead, that would just have been pure torture and he doubted that he would be able to keep his erection if that had been the case.
After ten minutes he could feel the muscles in her cunt clench around him and she cried out. He wondered if she wanted him to stop now that she had had her orgasm, but she told him to keep going. He closed his eyes and imagined Claquesous’ strong hand around his throat, choking him, and after a few more hard thrusts he was finally able to orgasm. He came with a grunt and immediately climbed off her.
“Oh, little boy… Don’t you want to cuddle after making love?” she said with a teasing voice.
“Never.”
“Good, this will save me the trouble of being forced to throw you out. Now, get dressed, little boy. You weren’t that bad.” Montparnasse sighed, he felt like spitting her in the face, but instead he just got dressed and left the bedroom, relieved that this filth was finally over. He walked down the stairs and laid his eyes on a large jewelry box. He opened it, carefully not to make a sound, and grinned when he saw that it was filled with pearls and golden bracelets and necklaces. He closed the box and grabbed it. When he was outside he turned to the left and clipped of one of her red roses with his nails and stuck it in his buttonhole. Then he turned to the right and saw her precious white roses. He let out an amused little snort, unbuttoned his trousers, took out his prick and pissed all over the bush. He snickered to himself, buttoned up his trousers and left.
A few hours later he was lying with his head in Babet’s lap. He was sighing and whining and moaning and grunting. “It was fucking horrible. She was horrible. I think I need to vomit. I’m going to vomit.”
“Was she really that bad?”
“Worse. Fucking bourgeoisie pig.”
“Was she ugly?”
“I don’t know. Rather.”
“Oh, I feel you, my little friend. My wife isn’t really beautiful either.”
“You have a wife?”
“Oh, I lost her. Misplaced her. I have no idea where she is now.”
“Do you know what the fucking bastard did? She called my prick feeble and scrawny.”
Babet laughed loudly. “Oh, it’s not that bad.” Montparnasse hissed.
“You can laugh all you want. It wasn’t funny.”
“A little.”
“I stole her jewelry box, though.”
“That’s a good boy.”
“And I took a piss on her favourite rose bush.”
“Even better. I hope they will wither.”
“Probably not, but still. I’m going to fucking kill Thénardier.”
“If you kill him, you just fucked that wench for nothing.”
“Your idle remarks are not amusing, Babet.”