Forget Me Never

by Sable Hunter

“Savannah, wait!”

  She heeded their warning, and then realized they weren’t trying to halt her inspection, they wanted to be a part of it. Slowly, they stepped into the haze and Savannah was surprised that she could feel a substance settling on her face, hands and arms. And it had a smell. She retrieved a flashlight from her purse and shone the beam on her hand. There was a light dusting of fine powder on her skin.

  “Where is it coming from?” Garrison asked with wonder in his voice. “It’s not raining down from above, it’s rising from the ground!”

  Savanna touched her palm with her tongue. “Flour, its white flour!” It took a few minutes for the significance to dawn on her, but when it did, she was amazed. That night had bend te she would never forget.

  At last when they had completed their filming, all three of them and the crew had sat before the control board and looked at all of the footage. Again they marveled at the shadowy form of the old home that appeared out of nowhere and faded just as fast. “I want to compare this to actual photos of the home, but it looks like it to me,” Garrison chuckled. “This is fuckin’ incredible. Our ratings are gonna go through the roof.”

  Jeremy played back the moaning noise and this time they heard something else.

  “Turn it up,” Savannah leaned in. “That’s people singing, isn’t it?” She was excited. “Hold on, let me show you something.” Leaving her chair, she went after her bag and pulled out a binder where she had jotted some notes. “Yeah, here it is, listen to this.” She proceeded to read to them accounts of the slaves at The Grove being asked to sing for the guests.

  “Wow, we’ll have to put it through a special filter and see if we can identify the song.”

  Savannah kept reading and stood up in surprise when she found another tidbit of vital information. “Oh, my God! Listen to this. In 1859, the steamboat Princess exploded off Conrad’s point near Baton Rouge. It was traveling from Vicksburg to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and blew up with four hundred people on board, mostly women. At least two hundred were lost. Slaves from The Grove pulled many of the burned and scalded victims to shore and they were laid on the lawn of the plantation on sheets covered with flour.” Her voice had wound down and slowed until the last word came out almost as a whisper.

  Needless to say, the time with PROOF had gone a long way to convince Savannah that ghost-hunting was something she wanted to pursue. Since word of their findings had hit the media, she had been inundated with requests to either join in investigations or conduct her own. Savannah wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Really, her life was full – of Patrick mostly. All she wanted to do was be with him or talk to him or think about him. He consumed her thoughts. But she had to work, she had bills to pay and now it seemed as if her job had morphed to include a bit of hands-on supernatural sleuthing.

  *****

  A car horn made her jump and she realized she had sat at the light too long. Taking her foot off the break, she put on her blinker and turned toward Prejeans. The award winning Cajun restaurant was one of their favorite noon hang-outs. Parking by Cato’s jeep, Savannah looked around to see if Fresca had driven her motorcycle. Yeah, there it was. No one could miss that cherry red Harley-Davidson. Climbing out of her Camaro, she straightened her hair and bit her lip to keep from grinning. Today, she had a man to talk about. Usually, all she did was listen to the others talk about their love ler motornd dodge questions and avoid their efforts to fix her up with some well meaning friend of theirs who probably wouldn’t be interested in her anyway.

  As soon as she walked into the restaurant, she heard Cato. Her husky giggle was unmistakable. Their favorite table was off to the right side and Savannah smiled to see that all three of her friends were charming the chef. He had brought them out some cherries jubilee and the flames eating up the alcohol were as festive as Christmas lights.

  “Did you bring enough for four?” So, they were eating dessert first. This didn’t surprise her at all.

  “There’s plenty, Doucet. Get your bubble butt over here and taste this. Pierre is the finest chef in South Louisiana. He made homemade ice cream and the best cookies in the world to go with this flaming nectar.” Tammany had been born with a silver shrimp fork in her mouth; she mainly volunteered at the center to be near the research material she needed for her doctoral thesis. Her greatest love was teaching.

  Savannah pushed in close and grabbed a spoon, dipping into the sweet treat. “Cato, how is your mom?” She knew that Mrs. Vincent had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. Realizing her friend was looking down at the table, Savannah touched her arm and got her attention. Once Cato had looked up, she repeated it. “How’s your mother? Is she feeling better?” Chemotherapy could be rough.

  “She’s much improved, thank you.” Cato grabbed her hand. “Did you bring any new pictures of your man?”

  Savannah wanted to shush Cato, but it always embarrassed her friend to be told she was talking a bit too loud, so Savannah just let it go. “Yes, I did.” Being partially deaf hadn’t slowed Cato Vincent down a bit. Her speech was a bit distorted, but Savannah thought it was endearing.

  “Let’s see,” Fresca nearly crawled over the table to get a look. “I love to look at him. I wonder if I could coerce him into modeling for me.”

  Savannah pulled out the photo of Patrick. It had been taken recently. He was standing in the sun with two of his buddies holding the puppy he had adopted. Fresca immediately confiscated it, “Holy Crap on a cracker!”

  “Ewwww Fresca, I’m trying to eat over here,” Tammany protested.

  “Oh hush, Rich Girl. You’d better toughen up if you plan on making it down in that third world country you’re moving to.”

  “What?” Savannah was confused. “Where are you going, and why?and Lord, was she completely out of the loop?

  “It’s a long story,” Tammany brushed off her concern. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Let’s gush over your Marine first.”

  “Damn!” Cato was leaning over her shoulder. “They all look good enough to eat.”

  “I want this one,” Fresca touched one of the figures.

  “Which one?” Savannah teased. “You’d better keep your sticky fingers off my Patrick.”

  “Chief Frownsalot makes my pulse jump,” she turned the photo around and pointed at her choice. “I want to walk down the aisle with him.”

  “That’s Philip Hawke, and this one is Jayco and the handsome one in the middle is mine, of course.”

  “Damn, Vannah!” Cato croaked. “You’re guy is ripped! I bet he’s hung like a horse.”

  Tammany covered Cato’s mouth and laughed. “We’ve got to get her a muffler.”

  “I don’t know, Cato. I haven’t got to investigate his equipment, yet.” Trying to change the subject a bit she focused on Fresca’s comment. “So, you think a man like Hawke could change your mind about marriage?”

  “Heck no,” her friend quipped as she scraped the last bit of cherry juice from her bowl. “I will never enter into the bonds of holy matrimony. But I will be one of your bridesmaids and Hawke is who I want to be paired with. I bet he’s good in bed.”

  “Give me that,” Savannah took the photo back, a little unnerved. “Nobody said we were getting married. I’ve only had one date with him and that was just lunch.”

  “Ha! Nana Fontenot said you’re getting married and that makes it gospel. Besides, you’ve been talking to him nonstop on the computer. I bet you two know everything about one another by now.”

  “Maybe,” Savannah mumbled. “I want some crawfish.” She waved her menu around hoping to catch the waiter’s attention.

  Tammany pushed the menu down and snapped her fingers in Savannah’s face. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to make you feel uncertain about Patrick? I thought everything was going great.”

  “It is,” she looked from one friend to another. “The problem is me. I’m just not used to good things happening to me and I keep expecting something to happen to spoil it.”

  F
resca and Cato hugged her on either side. “Everything is going to be okay,” Cato whispered in her charming lilt. “I shall pray for you.”

  “Thank you,” she kissed Cato on the cheek. Cato’s prayers were pure and God probably gave them first priority. Looking at Tammany’s somewhat distracted expression, Savannah remembered the earlier puzzling reference. “What third world country are you going to?”

  “Jamaica, I’ve joined the Peace Corp.”

  “Really?” Savannah stared at her with mouth agape. “The last time you went to Jamaica was on a cruise. Where did this come from?”

  “I’m tired of my life, Savannah. I want to do something real.”

  Their server came to take their order about that time and everyone paused in their conversation, but as soon as possible, Savannah picked it back up. “Tammany Benoit, what are you talking about? Your life is meaningful. I think you are the best teacher a child could ever have.”

  “But I don’t really teach, Savannah. That’s the problem. I’m a private tutor. That’s as close as my family would let me get to actually working. And my dad only allows me to tutor ‘certain’ people’s children.” She made quotation marks in the air.

  “And your answer to that quandary is to up and move to Jamaica?” Fresca asked as she waved a longneck beer bottle in the air.

  “Yes,” Tammany answered in a way that made them all realize the conversation was over.

  “So,” Cato patted Savannah’s hand maternally. “When is hot, hard and hung coming home?”

  Savannah laughed all the way home at Cato’s habit of getting them all in trouble. At the very moment she threw her 3H (hot, hard and hung) question out into the air, the restaurant’s noise level had been at a lull. A few ‘well I nevers!’ had been gasped from the Baptist ladies WMU group as they sat to the left and a few snickers had sounded from the college group to the right, but Cato had not been fazed. To the delight of her companions and the chagrin of the staff - when Savannah hadn’t answered, Cato had just repeated herself – louder. But Savannah didn’t really have an answer to her question, all she knew was that it couldn’t be soon enough to suit her.

  *****

  Fall changed to winter and Savannah and Patrick drew even closer. The days she didn’t hear from him were torture. She kept up with her work and ost hunted fairly often, but the highlight of her life was the time she spent online with Patrick. Afghanistan and the war meant something different to her now than it did before. It was much more real and much more important. She kept her TV on CNN now and anytime she heard that a Marine had been killed, she was glued to the computer until she heard from him again. And during the times they couldn’t contact one another, she consoled herself by reading their emails. A folder labeled LOVE in her online mailbox was where she kept them stored, a modern day woman’s love letters. Soon, she promised herself, she would print them out – just in case.

  Now she needed her Patrick fix, so she pulled up one that made her heart race every time she read it.

  Hey, Baby. I know we talked earlier, but you’ve been on my mind constantly. I’m so damn lonely for home. Every time I sit still my mind wanders right back to you. Do you reread our emails? I do. Sometimes at night, I lay here and imagine you reading them and touching yourself. I keep dreaming about what it’s going to be like when I’m with you again.

  In my favorite fantasy, you're lying on the couch when I come home. You’re on your back, sleeping. I'm tired and sweaty and the only thing on my mind is washing the war off and relaxing, but you look so damn good asleep on the couch in your sexy little blue and white dress. I sneak up beside you and you stir, but don't wake. I bend down to breathe you in. You move a little more, and the smell of your body causes a swelling in my pants that I need to share with you. You make me hard, Savannah.

  I lean in and kiss you. You don't kiss back at first, but after a few seconds, your lips part and you taste me. You run a hand around my neck and slide your fingers through my hair. We kiss more and as I pull my mouth from yours you bite at my bottom lip and moan in protest. "No." A second later my mouth is on your neck. I kiss my way down to your collarbone and you offer yourself, vulnerable, sealed with a sigh and an "Oh God." You gently open your eyes, and enjoy the pleasure on my face. You buck your hips and I feel your perky tits rub against my shoulder, your nipples are hard and I must have them in my hand. I slip a greedy hand down the front of your dress and am rewarded with a handful of the most perfect breasts I've ever felt. You cry out to me to run a fingertip over them. I'm eager to appease them, so I circle your perfect tits with that fingertip and you moan. "Oh God, Patrick." I'm so hard that it hurts and when I hear you breathe my name, I grab your hand and place it on my erection. You massage my hardness and I have to let you know how good it feels.

  "Good girl, Savannah. Just like that."

  I have greedy hands, Savannah, and with your sweet, sweet pussy within my reach, I can't hold out any longer. I trace a slow line down your stomach and slip a hand up under the hem of your dress. Your body twitches and your legs begin to grow hot>

  "Yes, sir," you say, and part your legs for me. You’re already damp. I give your swollen clit a rub through your underwear, but my hunger is too great. I want access to you and I'm not willing to wait a second longer. "Patrick!" You moan my name when I slide one finger in. "Oh, Fu-" You catch yourself before you swear when I put a second finger in your dripping pussy. You render my pants from my body. "Please, Patrick," you say once my cock is out. I don't need to answer you, I know what you want and I slide between your legs and thrust all of me inside of you. You wrap your legs around me and I pump into you as hard as I can. Your arms wrap around me as the ferocity of the love consumes you. We writhe in orgasm together and I fill you full of myself. I then collapse on top of you and you rub my back, peppering the top of my head with kisses.

  "Looks like I woke you," I say.

  "It's okay," you respond. "I was expecting the mailman anyway." We both laugh.

  That's it, Savannah. I had to share. This scene has been playing in my head for so long now. I’ve cum to it a hundred times. So . . . what are you wearing?

  Christmas flew past and she sent him extra care packages filled with everything she could think of, and he had sent her a little diamond necklace. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The desire and affection they felt for one another didn’t dissipate. Every time they exchanged love notes, he teased her until she was so hot for him Savannah thought she would explode. Over time, they got braver with each other and more comfortable and the exchanges got even more explicit.

  “What are you wearing? I need to know. . . Can you do me a favor? Read my words and follow my directions.

  Lay back, Savannah, and pretend I'm there with you. Put on a show for me. Pretend that I'm on the bed across from you, watching you, stroking my cock while you touch yourself. Move your ass back and forth, now run a delicate finger up your side and grab those perfect tits of yours. (I know I haven’t seen them, but I know they’re perfect, and soon I’ll have them in my mouth.) Let me hear you say my name, Savannah. Say, "Patrick. I need you." Spread your legs and swirl those hips for me, Savannah. I want to see those tits I've dreamt about so many times. Take them out for me, rub your nipples, squeeze them hard. Good girl. Pull up your hem for me, enough so I can see your underwear.

  I can see a dark patch on your sexy little satin panties. Pull them to the side for me, Savannah, I want to see that tight little hole of yours, what I'm going to be licking. Give that aching clit a little pet for me. Rub it for me, Savannah. Hard. Fast. Imagine it's my tongue on you, licking you up and down, back to front. Now slip a finger in, just the tip. Now, deeper. Slowly. Deeper. Imagine how much more I'd fill you up, stretch you. Good girl. Squeeze those ripe tits of yours while I slide in and out of your sweet pussy. That's it, Baby. Now work your clit again. Fast, Savannah. Cum for me, Honey. Cum for me like I was there inside of you right now. I'm gonna cum, Savannah. Cum with me inside of you.
/>   Thanks, love. That was great. I hope you enjoyed it, because soon I’m going to be enjoying you.

  Patrick had seduced her – wooed her – courted her with the hottest words she had ever read. And she had returned the favor. At first she had been hesitant, not very good at it. But she had gotten better with practice.

  Today she wrote one and poured every ounce of lust she possessed into it.

  Hey, Sexy. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I’ve read your emails and I do what you ask. I touch myself and I cum so hard. Now, do the same for me. Imagine that I’m there with you. I kneel at your feet and you spread your legs to make room for me. I’m brave, because this is a fantasy, right? Will you masturbate for me? Take your cock out and let me see it. You know I’ll love it. Now, stroke it for me. I can’t wait to see your face while you pleasure yourself. If you don’t mind, I’ll touch myself at the same time. We can cum together. Does it feel good? Pump it – slowly – up and down. If we were together, I’d lean over and kiss the tip – lick it a bit. You’ll have to teach me what you like. Maybe while you are sliding your hand up and down, I can help. I’d love to touch your balls, roll them a little bit and learn your body. My favorite thing is going to be watching your face and hearing your voice. I’ve enjoyed this so much, our sharing. But I want more. So cum for me, Patrick. Massage your cock and think of me. Say my name. Say, ‘Savannah, Baby.’ I can’t wait to hear you whisper my name. Cum for me, Patrick. If I were there with you Ie thd fit my mouth over the tip and love you while you came. And I’d swallow every drop.