Southern Spirits

by Edie Bingham

  Suddenly, as if overcome by Old World courtesy, he announced, ‘I’ll let you follow when you’re ready.’ He turned and rushed into the water, making noises suggesting it was colder than he had expected.

  Cat steeled herself, finding it a little more difficult to undress in the open, even if no one else could see them. But the air felt lovely on her exposed skin, and the water looked even more inviting. She slipped out of her panties and bra and followed him, feeling her feet sink into the silt beneath them as she rushed to reach a water level that would give her some cover. As she suspected, the water was cool, and her nipples scowled, but when she was waist high, she dipped down until she wet herself up to her throat.

  Wheeler turned around, openly admiring her. ‘If I were Mr Ames, I would never let you get out of my sight.’

  Cat smiled, rising up until her breasts were exposed to the air, and his eyes. She was enjoying the reaction she was getting from him more than she had expected. ‘You can’t control cats. They do what they want.’

  ‘So I’ve noticed.’ He splashed her, making her curse and splash him back. They half-swam, half-played like that, occasionally acknowledging the people at the far end who waved to them. The smells of cooking were beginning to reach them, making Cat hungry despite the breakfast she’d had.

  And whenever Wheeler touched her, ostensibly as part of their playing, she hungered for more, reminding herself of how she’d denied herself relief that morning. Damn, she should have come up with an excuse when she’d been with Nathan in the berth!

  After a time, he made a show of pursuing her, and she halfstumbled to escape his clutches, shrieking and giggling as he chased her out of the water and onto the bank near their clothes, both of them collapsing, rolling over each other, Wheeler behind her.

  Then she felt his hand around her, holding one of her breasts, squeezing it appreciatively. ‘Hey.’

  He whirled her around to face him, to look up at him as he kissed her lips. He didn’t loosen his grip on her until he felt her soften beneath his kiss, felt her lips give way and part. He held her tightly until she mouthed something.

  When he drew back, still holding her, Cat’s head spun as she sought her voice. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘You want me to stop?’ His hand reached up between them and touched her breast again, playing with the nipple.

  She said nothing, feeling his cock throb again, against her thigh, as if reacting to the warmth she knew was building up down there. It was wearing her down like a hurricane wind against a flimsy cabin wall. He bent down and kissed her again, this time his tongue slipping in and brushing along hers. He moaned his pleasure before leaving her mouth to move his lips along the length of her throat, drawing her hair up and out of the way, using the gentle weight of his body on hers, as his hands moved to the front of her body, sliding up and down her breasts.

  She didn’t have to go this far, she told herself. She could still do her job and keep him at a proverbial arm’s length. She swallowed as his hand rolled a nipple between his fingers. He shifted against her so that his erection now pressed between her legs, but he made no effort to get closer to penetration. But she parted her thighs a little wider to give him some space.

  Her body was beginning to respond, a recipient to his attentions, swelling and moistening to complement his own desire. As he ground his body, his shaft, against her sex, she could not deny the intense sensations of the touch against her clitoris. Her nipples burned beneath his tongue as he sucked on them, catching them between his teeth, his fingers stroking her body, moving downwards, as his lips moved back to hers. He was back on her mouth as he shifted off her body to lie close beside her, and his hand reached her bush, stroking downwards, downwards, letting Cat part her own thighs and raise her knees until her feet sunk into the mud for purchase.

  Wheeler cupped her pussy with his hand as continued to kiss her. Cat’s head spun like a dervish, and the heat seemed to radiate from her whole body as if she’d been set on fire. His tongue danced out and ran along her mouth, occasionally taking one of her lips between his and sucking gently, smiling as her pelvis thrust up against his hand, demanding attention. He pulled back and watched her face as his fingers stroked and parted her folds, bringing a wider smile to his face as he felt how wet she was.

  Cat couldn’t quite believe, or at least couldn’t quite accept, that she was letting it happen. A finger slipped easily inside, and he drew it out slowly, taking obvious pleasure in the feeling of it and the sound it made. She sought out rationalisations – part of the cover, a means of distracting the target – but then wondered why she was bothering, as she wallowed indulgently and pushed her pelvis up automatically to meet his descending finger, repeatedly.

  Wheeler worked his touch faster and faster, sometimes using two fingers, gently pinching and rubbing her clit, or a thumb once or twice. Cat’s moans were louder, her hips shuddering as she rode tiny climaxes, but she tried to avoid the maximum sensation which could send her too quickly over the edge. She felt her juices seeping down her slit towards her rear. Her breasts rose and fell with the waves of bliss, faster and faster as the ripples ebbed out from her thighs, and her breath felt ragged. She closed her eyes and let herself be all sound, all touch, driving her conscience further from her body with every second his hand worshipped her sex. When she cried out in ecstasy, the sounds seemed to join the sounds of the bayou around them.

  Afterwards, they lay side by side, Cat’s head cradled in the crook of his arm. She stared down at his cock, which had softened and settled against his thigh, like an obedient dog awaiting the call of its master. The animal heat of her orgasm had faded, and her voice sounded strange. ‘What do you really want, Jack?’

  ‘I want to try an experiment.’

  She sat up. ‘Experiment?’

  ‘There’s a place in the games carriage that used to be a private berth where Val and Mickey stayed, and I think contains a pivotal moment in their history. We can recreate what she heard and felt, let you connect with her.’

  ‘And give you a chance to “connect” with me?’ she asked with a smirk.

  ‘We won’t actually have to fuck. Reaching a state of arousal can be sufficient, not actual sex; we both know that one can do the latter without ever attaining the former. However, should you actually want to fuck at any stage of the experiment, you have but to ask.’

  It made sense – as much as any of this supernatural bullshit made sense. Still . . . ‘Ask, eh?’

  ‘Ask. Beg.’

  Her smirk descended into a snort. ‘I never beg, pendejo.’

  The church near the graveyard was a gutted Gothic miniature, something suitable for whatever town had been nearby, but no longer. The passengers who had attended Faye’s lectures and ghost stories now filed out to return to the food and the swimming.

  Nathan waited until everyone had departed before returning inside. It was a dark, almost claustrophobic interior, the walls cracked and weed strewn from decades of surrender to the elements. Faye Scott stood on a raised step by the altar, cast in a Jacob’s ladder of yellow light that shone through her dress. ‘I thought you’d left, Mr Ames.’

  ‘It’s Nathan. And I wanted to apologise to you for last night.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  Her tone suggested that he shouldn’t press further, so he didn’t. ‘And to compliment you on your performance. Very informative.’

  She snorted. ‘It was a crock of shit. We don’t know anything about this place; I just made it all up when we were scouting for suitable locations for the tour.’

  ‘Very entertaining, then.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll accept that.’ She rested her hands on the edge of the altar behind her, looking him over. ‘Let’s fuck.’

  Nathan stopped. ‘You’re not one for overtures, are you?’

  ‘Who has time? Life’s too short – and for that matter, so’s the weekend, for the money we charge people. We know we’re all onboard to fuck, or to watch
others fuck. Indulge in everything, deny yourself nothing. Those are my rules.’ She smirked. ‘Of course, some of us are here for more than that, aren’t we?’

  Nathan continued approaching. ‘Jack told you why we really boarded? And that he turned down our offer?’

  Faye nodded, her expression turning serious. ‘But before you leave, you should know that he won’t be in charge for long. And you’ll find you can deal more easily with me.’

  Nathan was almost upon her, breathing in the blossom scent of her hair, admiring those lips, while trying to remain casual and not to react to her words. ‘Is Jack selling Southern Spirits?’

  She smiled, her hands reaching out to touch his waist and hips. ‘Yes. He just doesn’t know it yet. You might want to keep the news to yourself until he’s signed the papers.’ Her hand reached the bulge in his trousers. ‘You’re almost as excited as I am about that, aren’t you?’

  Nathan swallowed. He had reluctantly agreed to go along as Cat had wanted, learning more from this woman about the operation. And it wasn’t as if the woman wasn’t attractive as hell, or that he couldn’t respond to her. But his words to Cat about getting too intimately involved with the suspects of an operation came back to haunt him. ‘I’m excited that I might get a bonus for securing this deal. But I want more information on any existing arrangements.’

  Faye pouted coquettishly. ‘Awww, I’m feeling neglected now. You have no interest in me? You sure know how to hurt a woman’s feelings, Nathan.’

  Suddenly he took a chance, grabbed Faye by the waist and lifted her up onto the edge of the altar, making her yelp, startled, but approving. His eyes still on hers, he reached down to her knees and parted them, parted them until he could step forwards. He lifted up the hem of her dress, having already seen that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  Then he let his eyes drift deliberately down to the silky brown triangle of her pubic hair, barely concealing the borders of her pussy. He caught her scent in the still, enclosed air of the church. His eyes returned to hers, as his fingers traced playfully around her sex, feeling her wet and open and ready.

  Faye’s hands went up to wrap around his neck, cooing and sighed indulgently, moving to pull him closer and kiss him. But he reached up with his other hand and blocked her gently. ‘No. I don’t kiss anyone else. I don’t fuck anyone else. Those are my rules. And we haven’t begun talking business yet. You have a problem with any of that, speak now, or let me do this.’ He slipped a finger straight inside and began taking her further along with long, deliberate thrusts. The knuckle of his thumb, meanwhile, moved up and pressed hard against her clitoris, massaging in a rough manner which Faye seemed to respond to appreciatively. The hands on his neck now gripped him for support, and her body rocked to the rhythm he had established, her breathing going shallow, ragged.

  Nathan leant in to the side of her head, letting his tongue lick out, before he whispered, ‘Tell me about the arrangement with the Kolchaks.’ When she didn’t respond, he stopped the hand at her pussy. ‘Now.’

  Faye talked. Quickly.

  10

  The room Wheeler had referred to was one of several semiprivate enclosures in the games carriages, equipped with one-way glass which let players in the corridor watch, if the inner curtains weren’t drawn. A large black leather-padded hammock-like sling in the centre dominated the room, suffused with apple-red light from strips built into the walls. It was suspended waist-high and supported by four sturdy-looking chains attached to the ceiling, with leather wrist cuffs and stirrups fixed in strategic places on the sling. ‘People use this?’

  ‘It’s one of our most popular features.’ Wheeler carried a cardboard box he’d collected from his office over to an adjacent table. ‘A woman can relax in it and be treated for hours, without her or her partners requiring Olympic stamina.’

  Catalina stood at the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘Uh-huh. “Treated”.’ When she saw the top of a bottle in the box, and heard a distinctive rattle of glass, she added, ‘You’re not getting me drunk again.’

  ‘You’re not getting any alcohol. I want your mind unimpaired and your memory sharp. Close and lock the door, unless you want spectators.’

  Cat stepped in and locked it. ‘What exactly do you intend to do?’

  ‘I’d rather not say; part of the atmosphere I wish to generate involves the unexpected.’ He set out a small MP3 player with speakers. ‘Take off your slacks and make yourself comfortable.’

  His words sent an unexpected thrill running through Cat. But she didn’t move. ‘You expect me to trust you, Jack?’ It seemed strange to ask, after all they’d been through already.

  ‘Well, if at any stage you want me to stop, just say . . . “gothic”. It’s what we call a safe word.’

  ‘I know what a safe word is, you patronising cabrón.’

  He sighed. ‘Someday I’ll meet a woman who’s not an obstreperous smart-ass, and –’

  ‘And she’ll bore you to tears.’ She stood watching him watching back, as she slipped out of her shoes and moved her fingers over the catches on her slacks, giving a little shimmy to send them to her feet and leaving her in her blouse and panties. The air felt cool on her bare legs, but the rest of her seemed to heat up as she stepped out of her discarded slacks and walked towards him, reaching out to her side to draw the curtains across the one-way glass, enjoying the look of unadulterated lust Wheeler was giving her. She turned and walked over to the sling, taking a moment to study it more closely before settling into it. She set her head back on the padded leather rest, playing with the edges of her blouse, keeping her feet on the floor. ‘Ever had a girl in this?’

  ‘A few. Nervous?’

  ‘You wish.’

  He drew closer, carrying a black silk scarf, and stepped behind her. Then he looked down at her. ‘Raise your head.’

  She did. Wheeler wrapped the scarf gently around her head twice, cutting off any light filtering through the material, before tying the ends at the left side of her head. Her pulse had begun to quicken, but she forced herself to try to appear calm, if not be calm, as Wheeler took her left hand, gently guided the wrist up and slipped it into the leather cuff on the nearest chain overhead. Moments later, he had secured the other wrist appropriately. Unlike her time on the bench that morning, she felt no means of escape.

  A frisson immediately shot through her, an acknowledged excitement at this restraint, not quite knowing what this man would do. It wasn’t a genuine fear – he had no prior record of violence, showed no inclination towards it in all the time she’d known him. She thought of telling Nathan, but knew that would open too many . . .

  She swallowed as she felt Jack take her left shin, then raise and set her leg at an elevated but comfortable angle, resting it against padding on one chain. He slipped her foot into a soft stirrup and secured a cuff around her ankle. Moments later, he secured her right leg too and she silently admitted that it was exceedingly cosy. She also became keenly aware of her spread thighs, imagined Jack gazing at her waiting sex, encased in the black brocaded silk of her panties.

  With her sight cut off, Cat listened closely, listened to Jack lifting up and setting the table closer to her. Seconds later, music – some scratchy tenor – played at low volume. It wouldn’t have been her first choice of music, but it did have a calming, almost hypnotic effect, even as a buzz began growing deep within her, an inner echo of the approaching storm outside.

  She started as she felt something soft, willowy, brushing along her forearm. ‘What the fuck?’

  ‘Shh.’ Wheeler had returned to her silently, and was drawing something along her. Cat tried to focus, to guess what it was – a strip of sable perhaps, wrapped around his fingers – but felt overwhelmed by the shivers running through her like a current. The touch ran up her arm towards the sleeve of her blouse, and then seemed to leap over the material to touch her throat, draw along her collarbone, before trailing slowly down to the upper curves of her breasts. It moved upwards as sh
e began to smile, the smile blossoming as it drew across her lips. ‘Dios.’

  She felt Jack draw closer to her face, seconds before his tongue lightly stroked her lips in pursuit. Her shivers increased despite the sweat-inducing heat in the room, and her breasts rose and fell within the meagre confines of her blouse; she wasn’t sure if she was glad or not about not wearing a bra that morning.

  The furry touch brushed across her cheeks, and then down again, dipping into her cleavage, and Cat felt as if her blouse had just spontaneously shrunk a size on her. She wished a hand was free to . . .

  Suddenly, Jack deftly undid a button, then another, alternating with brushing along each part of newly exposed skin. Slowly, languidly, he opened her blouse, never just fully baring her breasts, but leaving it to whatever he was caressing her with to dip beneath the material, the tip slipping over hardened nipples. Her pulse quickened, pleasure rippling outwards from wherever she was touched, and she let out a sound like a sigh embracing a moan.

  She felt Jack orbit around her, stop at her feet and draw closer again. He returned to her blouse, undoing the rest of the buttons and baring her midriff, leaving her breasts barely covered. The touch of sable returned to her skin, down from her breastbone and over her stomach, making her squirm within her bonds at the sensations. They vanished for a heartbeat, but then returned along her inner thighs, up along one, down along the other. It lingered, seeming to trace along the border to her panties, making her writhe and moan. ‘Hijo de mil putas’

  ‘What, a thousand bitches?’ Jack chuckled, but then quickly returned to silence, continuing his teasing, obviously enjoying his chance to outdo Nathan’s earlier performance.

  Then he was gone, leaving Cat to contemplate. It was a rare opportunity for her to let go like this, something she hadn’t expected to do for a long time, needing someone trustworthy enough. That she should feel that way about this man . . .