Is a novel by a Marthe Blau, a French lawyer from Paris which is allegedly based in true events. When in 2005 it was published it allegedly sent shockwaves through the French legal établissement with its frank portrayal of kinky sex and all that jazz.
It sent shockwaves through me too for its frank portrayal of totally unbelievable derp and complete failure to be believable or erotic. So I borrowed a copy off my mother (don't ask) and set to reviewing it here.
"I NEED HIS COCK INSIDE ME." Capitalisation not mine.
A bit more detail if you wouldn't mind?
Elodie is a Parisian avocat with a loving husband and a small son. One fine day she meets Him (again, capitalisation not mine) at court and he presses into her hand a note instructing her to be at a certain place at a certain time wearing stockings, suspenders, and a G-string. She wonders what she's doing there.
What is she doing there exactly? Because turning up in Ann Summers' finest simply because a handwritten note from some bloke told you to do it is not what a rational person does at any time, least of all a hard-nosed high-flying Parisian lawyer with a family. But nevertheless, this intrepid reviewer just had to find out. What she does do is meet Him and, amongst other things, he puts a clothes peg on her clacker. Which she finds a mite uncomfortable. He also fails to actually shag her, and thus begins the rest of the novel, on which barely a page passes without one of the following things:
- She longs for him to shag her and to feel his cock inside her.
- She sits around waiting for him to call so he'll tell her where to go and she'll get to feel his cock inside her.
- She goes shopping for fancy lingerie and then imagines him disrobing her and getting his cock into her.
- SHE NEEDS HIS COCK INSIDE HER.
- Etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.
On the occasions that He does meet up with her (we never find out his name, but he seems a right git), he does not shag her, not once, but contents himself with ordering her to go round her normal legal business with a variety of items in her orifices. These are a poor substitute for His cock, of course. Needless to say, going around with various BDSM paraphernalia about one's person attracts undue attention, as does His insistence on being round her at functions and deriving glee from her subservience, however this attention is either ignored (there's one bit where she's chained to a restaurant balcony by way of punishment which attracts no undue attention) or, surprise surprise, all her mates are into this as well. She then goes off to St Tropez where she discovers she also likes a spot of casual lesbionics as well. How convenient!
He doesn't shag her ever by the way, and apparently this is deliberate because this way he can spoil her for everyone else ever.
Thankfully the novel isn't too long, because it was annoying me lots. After all, why would a supposedly rational person succumb to a seduction method which is technically right out of The Macc Lads' playbook - that of being told that He is going to have her. If I knew that I could pull tasty French lawyers in this matter, I'd be trying to find an adequate translation for "Spread yer legs an' get yer knickers down. Spread yer legs an' don't make a sound. I'm God's Gift to Women in this fuckin' town!" when I was up at the Sorbonne rather than hanging around pretentious bars in the Latin Quarter trying to blag my knowledge of literature and philosophy. And why would she continue to do things like go to the hotel room He directed her to, change into the latex fetish gear provided for her, stuff the butt plug so furnished up her tan track, and assume the position, especially after the first time she did this he completely failed to to turn up whatsoever. Similarly, how can she pine for someone who treats her so horribly, ordering her about, sticking a clothes peg on her labia and humiliating her in public with no sniff of a safe word or suchlike and who we don't ever see whatsoever and so can't determine whether he's worth it or not, and then threatens to irreversibly wreck her career and life and family if she rejects him.
But despite all this, SHE NEEDS HIS COCK INSIDE HER.
I'm dreadfully sorry, but this is not believable whatsoever.
Right, I think that's quite enough. I'm gonna see if I can score with one of my former Sorbonne partners in crime right now. I'll send her a message on Facebook which reads, "Écarte les cuisses et retire ta culotte. Écarte tes cuisses et tais-toi - chut. Je suis le cadeau divin aux femmes dans ce merdeux endroit!" Yes, the rhyming is iffy and the scansion faeculent but if this novel is to be believed, I can't fail.