Confessions of a Proverbial Prude

By René Danning

Alida Franciscus makes an unorthodox journey to the United States of America accompanied by her colorful uncle Lucien. Travel with her from the place of her birth in Paris France to her new home in California where a new and strange life awaits her and tell me, can family betrayal be forgiven? Can love be learned? Très tabou,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olympic XPress
• Release date: Aug 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386129127

René Danning

René Danning is a budding romance writer and lives with her alter ego, the fictitious Alida Franciscus in San Diego California. René tells us in a private interview that her own tainted past is not so different than that of Alida Franciscus. "Where Alida can confess her promiscuity and romantic liaisons, I am not yet bold enough." When asked abut the truth in this statement, "I was delivered in the kitchen of a bordello in Paris France owned by Madame la Grillé, a woman ma mère spoke highly of, and educated on the streets of Paris France." René Danning replies, "Oui. Très tabou, or how you say, very taboo."

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Sensuelle

Contains adult content

Salutations

Je salue le public de lecture.

Greetings dear reader.

The Backstory

Mon histoire

I WAS BORN ALIDA FRANCISCUS. Franciscus after my father, a man I have never met. According to ma mère, my mother, he died in the war. I later learned there were no wars during that time. Every orphelin de père, fatherless child born in the house had heard the same story; their father’s all died in the war.

I was delivered in the kitchen of a bordello in Paris France owned by Madame la Grillé, a woman ma mère spoke highly of. After my birth, ma mère and I stayed on at the brothel until I was seven years old. No other woman and child of the Grillé house had ever stayed as long. We were lucky.

As I recall our life was very comfortable during those years. Sweet ma mère would bring croissants every evening to the pantry where I slept. She wore pretty dresses and smelled of cabbage rose perfume. Each night she read to me until I fell asleep with my head nestled in her chiffon lap. I have not since known such a comfort.

On occasion, when she was not entertaining, I was allowed to stay the night in ma mère’s chamber where we cuddled and laughed and played a game she called faire semblant de princesse. According to the rules of imagination I could be princess of any country I chose. Each time I chose Germany. As a German princess I would have the power to save the poor and grant every citizen one wish on their birthday.

Germany was the native land of ma mère’s father – another man I had not met, though I knew well from the stories she shared. I pitied ma mère, for her beloved father had truthfully died in war. Ma mère’s mother died the following year; she said the cause of death was simply a broken heart. Uncle Lucien later told me their mother fell ill from starvation and worry, exhausted from trying to maintain the farm when he and ma mère moved to France. When either of them spoke of my grandmother, their eyes dampened and stared at the ground.

According to Uncle Lucien, he was happy to be free of the farm and the responsibility. He traded his stories and what he called employment for francs and then euros. Sometimes he exchanged sorrowful tales for cigarettes and a glass of wine. He slept in public parks, under the River Seine bridges and occasionally in a brothel. For him, anything was better than being a farmer.

Ma mère did not adjust as well. According to her, life on the streets of Paris was treacherous and unsanitary. She preferred a more stable