Undressing Emmanuelle: A memoir

A memoir

SYLVIA KRISTEL

with

JEAN ARCELIN

For Arthur

Title PageDedicationList of IllustrationsChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty OneChapter Twenty TwoChapter Twenty ThreeChapter Twenty FourChapter Twenty FiveChapter Twenty SixChapter Twenty SevenChapter Twenty EightChapter Twenty NineChapter ThirtyChapter Thirty OneChapter Thirty TwoChapter Thirty ThreeChapter Thirty FourChapter Thirty FiveChapter Thirty SixChapter Thirty SevenChapter Thirty EightChapter Thirty NineChapter FortyChapter Forty OneChapter Forty TwoChapter Forty ThreeChapter Forty FourChapter Forty FiveChapter Forty SixChapter Forty SevenChapter Forty EightChapter Forty NineChapter FiftyChapter Fifty OneChapter Fifty TwoChapter Fifty ThreeChapter Fifty FourChapter Fifty FiveChapter Fifty SixChapter Fifty SevenChapter Fifty EightChapter Fifty NineChapter SixtyChapter Sixty OneChapter Sixty TwoChapter Sixty ThreeChapter Sixty FourChapter Sixty FiveChapter Sixty SixChapter Sixty SevenChapter Sixty EightChapter Sixty NineChapter SeventyChapter Seventy OneChapter Seventy TwoChapter Seventy ThreeChapter Seventy FourChapter Seventy FiveChapter Seventy SixChapter Seventy SevenChapter Seventy EightChapter Seventy NineChapter EightyChapter Eighty OneChapter Eighty TwoChapter Eighty ThreeChapter Eighty FourChapter Eighty FiveChapter Eighty SixChapter Eighty SevenChapter Eighty EightChapter Eighty NineCopyrightAbout the Publisher

1

Amsterdam, 2005

Bessel Kok is a major businessman. It shows: he has presence, composure, style and a keen eye. He’s a chess fanatic like my father, and a connoisseur of fine flesh and lovely women. His wife is young and ravishing, he has the pot belly of a gourmand, and his dream is to become President of the World Chess Federation.

He is also generous and – as luck would have it – a nostalgic fan and kind patron of little old me! I met him a few years ago at a smart dinner after a private view. He kindly invited me to the Karlovy Vary Film Festival in the Czech Republic, of which he was a sponsor. Bessel has become a thoughtful and protective friend.

This summer he offered to subsidise me.

‘Why?’

‘I will provide you with financial support for a few months, so you can devote yourself to your own project.’

‘What kind of project?’

‘A book.’

‘A book?’

‘The story of an ageing Dutchwoman, a former goddess of love, in fragile health and living in a tiny apartment …’ He laughed, adding: ‘Give it some thought …’

*

The sun was shining brightly on the Amsterdam canals, and life was cutting me some slack. My mind roamed freely in my convalescing body – I had time to live, to think. My pale skin soaked up the sun, turning more golden by the day and slowly showing up a scar on my left arm. Four white spots came gradually into relief, each smaller than the last.

‘Give it some thought …’ Bessel’s words kept running through my mind, refusing to fade.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this scar of mine. So old. Forgotten. Four spots, like a secret code, the code of my childhood, of my life perhaps. A code I had never tested.

But now I had to; it was time.

I phoned Bessel in the middle of that hot summer and announced: ‘I’m going to test the code.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve been frightened that I’d forgotten everything, on purpose or because I had to, but now it’s all coming back, the words are on the tip of my tongue …’

‘I can’t understand what you’re saying.’