by Sandra Hill
“This is the hottest thing I have ever seen. Keep going.”
She stuck one finger inside herself, then two, and moaned. “I am imagining you doing this, not me.”
“Make yourself come. Make your body hum.”
At her first touch there, she moaned softly and felt her inner muscles clench. The mattress moved as Rene eased himself onto the bottom of the bed. Her eyes were closed, but she sensed him watching her.
“That’s the way, that’s the way.”
She was flicking her finger rapidly back and forth till she was arching her hips off the bed, and she climaxed in ever increasing spasms.
Holy freak in’ hell! He had never seen anything so hot in all his life. She was a regular sex goddess, every man’s wet dream, Playmate and girl next door mixed into one. And the night is still young.
The minute she opened her eyes, he was up and over her.
“Oh, sweetheart, you were wonderful. Did you like it?” He lifted his head so he could see her answer.
“I did, but not as much as having you.”
“Your wish is my command, chère.” With those words, and no preliminaries, he slid inside her.
“Aaaaahhh!” she screamed, climaxing fiercely around him. Thank God for multiple orgasms.
Blinking at him in astonishment, she said, “You must think I’m a slut.”
He would have laughed or teased her about that silly statement, but he was too busy concentrating on what was going on down there. He filled her and then, when he began to move out of her, nearly all the way, the tight friction was almost more than he could bear.
Before he lost his mind and his control, he wanted to say something. “Val, honey?”
Her eyes were glazed, staring up at him. “Hmmm?”
“I love you.” He slammed into her.
She made a little squeaking sound that he took to be pleasure and said, “I love you, too.”
Over and over, they repeated the procedure. He told her he loved her on the withdrawal. She told him she loved him on the deep plunge. After a while, as the strokes came harder and faster, their words blurred together, and their bodies seemed like one.
In the end, he lifted her hips off the bed and pounded into her one last time. They both yelled out “Yessssss!” at the same time as they were swept away on a mutual orgasm.
When they came back to normal breathing, Rene rolled off of her and tucked her into his side, kissing her lips lightly first.
“That was nice,” Val said, snuggling closer.
“Nice?” he protested.
“For an appetizer. What do you do for a main course?”
He laughed and said, “Wait and see.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fighting the clock
Rene was a desperate man.
Val slept soundly in his arms. Hell, it was no wonder. He’d kept after her, over and over, hour after hour, till he lost track of how many climaxes each of them had.
He’d started them off on those silly sex fantasy games because, frankly, he was afraid of himself and how very much he wanted her. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed those games. He had hoped to cut the edge on his massive appetite; instead, the games had whetted his hunger for more.
She was worn out, unable to stay awake. He was hyped, unable to fall asleep.
As if a time clock was winding down in his brain, he constantly checked his watch, aware that his time with Val was melting away. He’d become insatiable, unable to keep his hands off of her, unable to stop telling her that he loved her. He kept thinking there must be something else he could do to make her stay.
He was trying too damn hard, like a pathetic nerd pestering the prom queen.
It was pointless, really. Val had to go back to New York, at least for now. But he knew, he just knew, that if they didn’t make a commitment before she left, their relationship would end. Neither of them would want to drag out an inevitable sad parting.
She must not love him as much as he loved her.
Breaking up is hard to do
Valerie was a desperate woman.
Rene had finally fallen into a dead sleep after practically killing himself making love to her repeatedly.
He was a bleepin’ sex machine, or trying to be.
He was wearing her down... with love. It was sex, to be sure, that he used on her, but more than that.
He showed her his love in every little gesture, from a butterfly kiss on her fingertips to a mind-blowing orgasm.
She could not make a decision under this kind of pressure.
No, that wasn’t quite true.
She’d already made a decision. She couldn’t change that decision under this kind of pressure.
He was too damn tempting.
Imagine us married.
Yeah, like he even asked me.
Imagine having him to come home to every day.
What is he, a puppy or something that would be at my beck and call?
Imagine living together, sharing our lives.
Sex, sex. . . and more sex.
Imagine growing old together.
Imagine having children together.
Good Lord! Where did that thought come from?
Bottom line: Rene couldn’t live in the city. She realized the foolishness of her ever imagining he could.
And Valerie felt absolute terror at the prospect of moving back here.
Everything that was bad about the first eighteen or so years of her life, she associated with this place.
All the family members she wanted to avoid were here.
Her entire identity was tied up with her career. It was who she was. She would lose herself if she gave up her ambition, her dreams of success, her sophisticated world.
She would be a failure.
So it was with great pain that she slipped out of bed, dressed quietly in the bathroom, and packed her luggage. She left the folder on the dresser along with a note. Only then, with tears flowing freely, did she allow herself to look at him.
“I love you,” she whispered.
And then she left.
Hello, heartache
Rene awakened to sunlight streaming through the windows... and a sudden panic.
He soon realized that his panic was warranted. Val was gone. For good, presumably.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, throwing a pillow across the room. Walking over to the dresser, he read her short note.
Rene: I love you more than I can say. But you and I both know it would not work . Please don’t call me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
Goodbye, my love.
Valerie
“Bullshit!” he swore, ripping the note into shreds and tossing it onto the floor.
Next, he flipped open the folder and discovered all the evidence he would need to end the harassment by the oil companies and developers on his tail. He supposed she considered it a good-bye gift to him. He tossed that to the floor, too.
When he left the hotel a half hour later, his tears were gone, and his face was a steely mask of bitterness. Unfortunately he ran into Luc heading toward his law office.
“Rene, what’s wrong?” his brother asked with concern, running to catch up with him.
“Not a damn thing.” He shoved the folder, which he’d had the good sense to pick up at the last minute, into Luc’s hands.
“Where are you going?” Luc asked, without even looking inside the folder.
Rene stopped and looked at Luc. “To hell, I suspect.”
Attack of the killer LeDeuxs
Three weeks later, Tante Lulu tracked him down.
He’d bought the Bayou Black house after all, figuring it would make a good investment, but the only furniture in the place was the mattress on the floor of his bedroom and some patio furniture that had been left on the deck by the former owners. It was from that mattress that he now staggered to the front door where all the banging was taking place. His head felt about the size of a basketball.
Opening the doo
r, he moaned. “Tante Lulu! What are you doing here?”
“Pee-yew, you stink,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face. “And when was the las’ time ya did any laundry?” He was wearing sweatpants and that’s all. She was right. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d done laundry. Holding a palm in front of his mouth, he blew. Yep, he did stink. Must have been those ten—or was it twenty?— Dixie beers he’d downed last night.
The first week after Val had left, he’d been a walking zombie. Inconsolable. Pathetic.
The second week, he did a little better. He accepted a position teaching science in a local junior high school, starting next month. The job offer had come out of the blue. It was something he never thought he’d see himself doing. But for some reason it seemed right... for now. Was there any more fundamental way to improve the bayou ecosystem than to educate the young? It wasn’t a yuppie kind of job that Val would admire, though. Not enough money. Not enough prestige. Maybe, in the end, that’s why he took it. A last act of defiance.
He even had a date. A local court stenographer. What a disaster that was! He apologized for his distraction and took her home early. She was beautiful and intelligent, but she was not Val. He obviously needed more time.
This week, he’d met with Luc to discuss the settlements the oil company and Realtors association had made, under threat of exposing the contents of the folder Valerie had left for him. J.B. and Maddie would be getting a new boat. And he would be given just compensation for the loss of his cabin. He hoped the thugs would lie low once the documentary came out in the fall, at least for the short term. Otherwise they could still file charges.
The thing that had sucker punched him last night was Valerie. Again. He’d stopped at Swampy’s for a beer and muffaletta, early, before the night crowds. While sitting at the bar, someone flicked the TV channel, and, lo and behold, there was Val on the screen hosting her new TV show. She looked great. He felt like shit. Apparently the break-up hadn’t affected her like it had him.
After that he drank more beer than any sane man should. He entertained the crowds with his accordion playing. He might have even danced... by himself. Yep, he had a vivid image of himself leading the crowds in a wild rendition of “Twist and Shout,” then leading a conga line to some rowdy Cajun song.
The life of the friggin’ party, that’s what he had been. He had no idea how he’d gotten home, but he vaguely recalled someone driving him while he belted out one Cajun song after another, in particular “Parlez-Nous Boire” or “Let’s Talk About Drinking.”
So here he was, hungover, at his front door with Tante Lulu when suddenly a strikingly beautiful woman, wearing only his boxer shorts and his Tulane T-shirt, walked toward them from the kitchen. It was Francine Pitre, the woman he had once been engaged to be engaged to. Son of a gun! How did I hook up with her?
Tante Lulu took one look at Francine and exclaimed, “I thought you was happy.”
Rene tried to smile but his lips hurt. “She means gay,” he interpreted.
“Thass what I said.”
“I am,” Francine told Tante Lulu.
His aunt must have somehow found out that Francine was a lesbian. He hadn’t told her.
“Then, what you doin’ with this boy? Oh, no! Francine, bless yer heart, I hope you din’t talk Rene into one of them threesome thingees like I read about in one of Charmaine’s Cosmo magazines.”
He and Francine both laughed. And, boy, did it hurt!
“I brought him home because he had too much to drink,” Francine told his aunt. “As a friend.”
“Thass a relief. I din’t want him doin’ anything perverted like... more’n usual, leastways.”
“Tante Lulu, what are you doing here?”
“I come to straighten ya out. And doan ya be givin’ me that black look. Ya been wallowin’ too long.”
Ican wallow if I want to. “I’m all right.”
“No, you are not. Now, go get those groceries outta my car. I’m gonna make ya breakfas’. Then we gonna talk.”
As she made herself at home, and Francine kept laughing, and he stomped out to her pink Thunderbird to get five, five, bags of groceries, Tante Lulu called back to him, “By the by, yer brothers is comin’ with a truck to unload yer furniture from yer ol’ place. We’s gonna have us a reg’lar fais do, do right here. Ain’t that nice?”
Just super! Rene’s head just grew bigger. He was pretty sure it might explode.
“One more thing,” she yelled from the kitchen.
Icannot take one more thing. I really can’t.
“Me and Charmaine is takin’ a li’l trip to New York City.”
It felt as if his head did, in fact, explode then.
It was a family affair
Three hours later, Rene’s furniture, such as it was, was in place, half-filling his new home. All thanks to the most meddlesome, endearing family in the world.
The women were in the kitchen preparing an everyday LeDeux-style supper, which meant enough to feed the Confederate army. He and his brothers were out on the deck, watching a proud gator papa-to-be building a nest for its mate out of mud and grass and other yucky stuff. It was a good distance from the house, no reason for concern.
“Why are you all here?” he asked.
“Hah! Where else would we be after the show you put on last night?” Luc said.
He winced. Apparently his hazy memory had been accurate.
“Dancing on the table! Only you would do that.” Remy was laughing as he relayed that information.
“I liked the part where you were lap dancing some babe,” Tee-John interjected. “Can you show me how to do that?”
Rene’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God! Am I facing a sexual harassment lawsuit or something? Who was the babe?”
“I was the babe,” Francine yelled through the window. “And not to worry, there was nothing sexual about it for me.”
Rene should have been insulted, but actually he was relieved.
“You’ve got to get your act together.” Luc put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“I know that, and I will. Yesterday was just a bad day, a bump in the road.”
“Can’t you work it out?” Rusty asked. “Nothing’s hopeless, you know?”
“This is.”
Tsk -tsk -tsk ! he thought he heard someone say from the other end of the deck, but when he looked over there all he saw was the life-size, plastic St. Jude statue his aunt had brought as a housewarming gift.
His hope chest had been burned in the cabin fire, but she promised to put together another one for him. Oh, joy!
Before they ate, everyone sat around the table holding hands while Tante Lulu said the grace. “Dear God, bless this food and our fam’ly and friends. And tell St. Jude to help Rene ‘cause he sure is hopeless.”
He groaned, but everyone else just laughed.
Once they started eating, Tee-John asked Francine, who was sitting next to him, “How exactly do lesbians do it?”
Tante Lulu smacked him on the arm with a wooden spoon and said, “Hush yer mouth, boy.” She would probably ask Francine the same question later when they were alone.
“How are the plans going for the birthday party?” Rachel asked. The party was to be held in one week.
“Just great. I’ll tell you everything after we eat,” Charmaine answered. She waggled her eyebrows in some meaningful way, which Rene feared somehow involved him, and added, “Big plans.”
“Do you still want me to play? If so, I need to contact the other members of The Swamp Rats.” Rene looked to Charmaine and his aunt for confirmation.
Tante Lulu said, “Iffen you wants to, although yer gonna be mighty busy.”
“I am?”
He could swear that a grin passed around the table.
“Yep, and I still think you oughta wear a tuxedo,” Tante Lulu said.
“Why? Is everyone else wearing a tux?”
His brothers shrugged and looked to Tante Lulu, as if she was the ringlead
er of this circus.
“Well, mebbe you doan need a tuxedo, but dress nice.”
After the meal and the clean-up, Rene shooed everyone out of his house. He grabbed hold of his aunt at the last minute.
“This was nice of you, but you are not to worry about me anymore. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“To me you’ll allus be a little boy.” She patted his hand and reached up on her tiptoes to give him a hug.
“You are not going to New York City.”
“I kin go if I wanna. Besides, I allus wanted to see the Statue of Liberty and the naked cowboy on Forty-Second Street.”
Some combination! “You are not to go near Val under any circumstances.”
“Why not?”
Because you’ll make things even worse than they already are.
“You don’t even like her.”
“I din’t like her at first, but now I like her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Why do you like her now?”
“Because you love her.”
Invasion of the mind snatchers
Valerie should have been on top of the world. Instead she felt like she was in the pits.
She had a primo job in a primo show that could very well soon rival the best of Court TV. In fact, she’d already had feelers from some of their execs trying to steal her away.
Any day of the week there were cocktail parties and important events she could attend. Two very eligible men had asked her to go out this week alone.
So what did she do?
She worked ten to twelve hours a day and went home alone to eat take-out food, standing up at her kitchen counter. Everything was the same and yet everything was different. She had this odd suffocated feeling when she walked down the street. Her apartment seemed too small. Her co-workers seemed artificial. She knew it was all in her mind, but she couldn’t help herself. She was miserable.
She missed Rene so much.
And not once had he even tried to call her. She knew because it was the first thing she checked on her answering machine when she got home. She jumped every time the phone rang at work or at home.
Of course she hadn’t called him, either. Of course she’d told him not to call her. Of course nothing had changed. Still. . .
She had to be out of her mind.