Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey

by Blanche, Neige

  “Yeah, I got my ideas about dat and it ain’t in keepin’ with what the papers say neither. Like I say, she went crazy. Momma say she die of insanity and I got to believe my momma.”

  “Do you think she killed herself?”

  “I know she did.”

  “Damn,” I said, “that’s terrible.”

  “Ya know, Miss Nez, I hear things and I just listen. I never talk, but I figure you be around here long enough now you and me can talk,” she whispered. “I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ to nobody, ya heeah?”

  “Thanks, Auntie, I won’t either. This is just between you and me.” I sipped my tea. “How’d she do it?”

  “Miss, I don’t know for sure, but Momma say they find her in that room hangin’ by her neck from the ceilin’.”

  “Good god!” I said.

  “So you know about dat room?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I’ve never been to Twisted Oak, so I haven’t seen it.”

  “Me either,” she said, shaking her head. “Those folk are just plumb crazy. I’m glad your Mr. Delacroix ain’t like that.”

  “Me too,” I lied. The visual of Mrs. Delacroix hanging from the ceiling of the playroom shook my senses. I wondered who found her, but I was afraid to ask for fear of putting Auntie in a compromising position. She wrung her rag in her hands and wiped the same spot on the counter repeatedly.

  “Things can go terribly wrong sometimes, can’t they, Auntie?”

  “Yeah, when we least expect it, too.”

  I pictured Mr. Delacroix’s father finding his wife. I could not imagine the pain he must have felt, pain and guilt because he could not save her and because maybe it was his behavior that sent her over the edge.

  It was then that I realized my passion. I loved reading Monique’s journals and the other history books in Mr. Delacroix’s library. I decided that studying and writing history—in particular, the family history—would be my passion. I was excited to tell Mr. Delacroix that I had something in my heart to call my own. I knew he’d be pleased, and he was.

  “That’s excellent,” he said that evening as he undressed after work. “I never dreamed you would like her journals so much.”

  “My lord, I do, but it’s more than that. I like all history. I never knew until now, really. I suppose I’ve never been exposed to it, not like I’ve been here. It’s everywhere in the city, in your family and Ty’s family and even Sunny’s. Everybody has an interesting history around here. This city is so historic; I guess it’s gotten me under its spell.”

  “She can do that to ya, this place. Just wait till you go out to Twisted Oak. It’s got a history of its own. Parts of it haven’t been touched since my dad died. I told Mr. Scott he’s to keep it just the same.”

  “Wow, my lord, nothing’s changed out there in all these years?”

  “No reason to change things. It’s full of old antiques and relics, but they’ve all been preserved and maintained. You’re gonna love it.”

  “That has to cost a fortune, my lord, to keep it up like that.”

  “It’s worth it.”

  “Sometimes I forget what year it is when I’m with you, my lord. Even this place is timeless in a way.”

  “Yes, these apartments have been here since 1840 or so. They’re the oldest apartments still in existence in America.”

  “Wow!” I exclaimed.

  He leaped onto the bed next to me and pinned my arms down. “Wow what, Nez?”

  “Wowee,” I laughed.

  He sucked on my nipple hard. “Say that again and I might have to punish you.”

  “Wowee!” I said as I spread my legs.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it.”

  “Done what?”

  “You surly little bitch,” he said. He rose to his knees and flipped me over on my stomach. Before I knew it, my feet were tied to the bedposts and he was binding my hands together above my head. “Keep them up there, Nez.”

  “Yes, sir,” I giggled.

  “Good girl.” He shoved all the pillows under my midsection and began to pat my ass slowly and softly, which drove me mad.

  “Please, my lord,” I begged as I tried harder to raise my backside higher.

  He spanked with an upward motion, licking my labia with his hand, but I could not move because my feet were bound. It stung.

  “You like that?” he said as he rubbed my ass gently.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Whack! Whack! Twice on the same side. “Nice and rosy your cheeks are.” Whack! The other side now.

  “My lord.” He smacked me up in the middle again, and I swelled with longing. “Please.”

  “Nope, not this time. You’re gonna walk around all evening with a girl hard-on.” He whacked me twice more in the middle, each time hitting me more directly on my swollen parts.

  I started to struggle against the ropes in hopes that it would release the tension and he smacked me again. “Sir, please, I need it.”

  “Hell yes, you do, but not tonight. You’re in big trouble. Besides, you wiggle too much.”

  Another smack and then he tickled and teased my clit to the point of madness.

  “Sir, please, this isn’t fair.”

  “Nobody said life was fair, my dear.” He pinched this time with just enough pressure to make my vagina ache for him. I was disappointed when he untied my feet. “You talk too much. Roll over.”

  I lay flat on my back with my hands above my head. He got off the bed and guided me by pulling my hair to the edge of the bed, letting my head and shoulders fall over the side. I watched him upside down until he was out of sight. He walked around to the other side of the bed and secured my feet to each bedpost with long ropes. The blood was beginning to rush to my head. I closed my eyes imagining what he would do next.

  “Open up,” he said.

  I opened my eyes to see him upside down in front of my face. He had dropped his red silk pants. “Not your eyes, Nez, your mouth.”

  I opened my mouth as wide as possible and he proceeded to fuck my throat. I was insane with longing. I wished so hard that he was fucking my vagina and the thought of it made me come like crazy. I was moaning between thrusts and found it hard to catch my breath. Would he suffocate me this time? The feeling was exhilarating and when I saw him smile, I knew he understood my pleasure. He pinched my nipples and flicked them with his fingertips, making them sting and stand at attention.

  “Don’t have anything to say now, do you?”

  I tried to agree with him and he shoved his cock in further.

  “You’re wiggling. Hold still.”

  I tried to stay as still as possible.

  “I just don’t get how you can fully enjoy me when you’re all squirmy. Now hold still, Nez. Stop it!” He slapped my breast and I worked hard to relax as I had when he’d used the beads. I found that he was right. When I was fully relaxed, I could feel more of him in me. The pleasure multiplied. I opened my mouth wider for him.

  “See? There you go. See how much better it is?” He continued his rhythm, finding the back of my throat. I found I could breathe between thrusts when I relaxed. I remembered Monique’s comments about satisfying oral sex; she may have been correct, but I longed for him to fuck me.

  He pinched my breast. “Where are you going, Miss Nez?” I spiraled back from my thoughts. “Don’t think of anything but my dick choking the shit out of you.”

  My vagina dripped and I felt the dampness on the sheets beneath me. He thrust into me deeply and held it there until I was certain I would pass out. Familiar panic rose up in me, but I feared he would hit my breast again if I moved. Finally, he pulled back, allowing me to breathe. I was panting between thrusts now and he moved his hand over my labia and pinched my clit.

  “You’re so wet, my dear,” he said, and jammed his cock into my throat and came; the sweet, salty
cream coated my throat and I tasted it as it dripped through my mouth and onto my face.

  His release was complete as he moaned, “I like you like this.” I was silent because my mouth was full and it wasn’t easy to swallow in that position. “Cat got your tongue?” he giggled. He backed away from me and enjoyed watching me struggle. “Finish swallowing it. Drink up, my love.”

  I could not swallow, so I hung there and breathed as best I could.

  “You may move now,” he said. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me down. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. Stay. I said you could move, but I didn’t say you could get up.” He went around the bed and freed my ankles.

  “Turn over,” he commanded. I did as asked and I could finally swallow and clear my throat. I heard him rattling around in the armoire and waves of excitement erupted in my deepest region.

  “Let me see that ass of yours,” he said.

  I arched my back and got slightly on my knees so I could lift it as high as I could for him without changing my position.

  “Damn, you got your asshole all nice and wet. You came all over yourself. How convenient,” he said, and shoved a large butt plug into my anus with a shot of pleasure pain. “I wish you could see what I see. Your cunt when you’re coming, it’s stunning, Nez, it’s beautiful. Like a dewy rose.”

  16.

  The music from the square was unusually somber, so I went out on the balcony to see what was going on. The morning sun was warm and heavy and the air was hazy. Black people were marching in columns; some were crying and others were singing words that I did not understand. Dressed in black, some women carried fringed parasols of black lace. They held each other as they followed the small jazz band. The men carried a coffin and more people followed.

  “It’s a funeral march, a real New Orleans jazz funeral,” Sunny said, and put his hand to his heart out of respect as they passed by.

  Soon, though, in a trumpet blast of insanity, the music changed to a happy march that reminded me of the old Dixie jazz I usually heard at night. The trumpet riff set the people off and they began to dance like there was no tomorrow; parasols moving up and down, handkerchiefs waving in the air, the people’s cries turned to whoops and hollering. It made sense in a way that can only make sense in New Orleans. I looked at Sunny and he was dancing on the balcony in his purple silk pants.

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said.

  “Yep, it always is.” He grabbed my hand and twirled me around. “Ya gotta dance, Miss Nez. It’s the right thing to do.” So we danced until we could no longer hear the music.

  “Why do they do that?”

  “If you’re goin’ to heaven, ya may as well dance your way there,” he smiled. “Honestly, I really don’t know; maybe we’re all going to hell.”

  “Ya know, Sunny, I feel bad about keeping you here. I’m sure you’ve got something else to be doing with your days.”

  “I usually hang out here because I work till three or four in the morning sometimes, so it works out real well.”

  “You’re always up before eight. That’s only four or five hours of sleep!”

  “That was part of the agreement when Mr. Delacroix bought the bar for me; that I’d be here every morning to have breakfast with him.” He sat down at the iron table. “Having you around to keep me company is kinda nice. I don’t have too many friends other than Ty and my employees, but they aren’t really friends.”

  “I guess this lifestyle doesn’t allow for having a lot of friends.”

  “Oh, I dunno, later if you are granted more freedom and make an effort, but then you can’t be totally honest with them because they aren’t part of the lifestyle and they don’t understand, they think you’re a freak or something. Or they are part of the scene and you wanna keep your distance. But that’s just me. I’ve never made friends very easily, but you’re different.”

  “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. Even if you aren’t living like we do, it’s hard to know who your real friends are,” I said.

  I sat looking out over the square at all the tourists and hawkers and wondered about their lives; where they came from and where they were going, all the good people doing good people things.

  “Do you ever wish things were different, Sunny?”

  “I used to sometimes, but now I just look ahead. Looking back only hurts and there isn’t a damned thing any of us can do about the hand we were dealt. Not a fucking goddamned thing.”

  “I suppose not. And thank god for Mr. Delacroix.”

  “Yeah.” Sunny leaned back on his chair. “It’s nice out. We should take your walk.”

  “My legs are sore,” I said as I rubbed my quadriceps. Sunny’s body was about as perfect as a body could get. I wondered if I would ever measure up. “What about Ty? Where is he today?”

  “I bet that kid walks twenty miles a day. His physique comes naturally to him, I think. He’s got some pretty genes in his family,” Sunny said wistfully. “He’s probably at home sleeping.”

  “It’s sad about his family not wanting him. I asked him about it when we first met. He said his father was in prison.”

  “He raped Ty’s mom. That’s how she got pregnant with Ty and that’s why he’s in prison.” Sunny shook his head. “I can relate to Ty so much in that our parents can’t stand us for who we are, but man, Ty carries his father around like Jesus Christ carried that damned cross. No matter what I do, I can’t get Ty to forget about it. Ty believes he’s a bad seed that’ll never amount to anything, but he’s so wrong.”

  “Wow, that’s heavy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve never met anyone who hates himself so much for something he has no fucking control over. He’s a great guy and so smart, but he sabotages himself all the time.”

  “You really care for him, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Yep, he’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve got, except now you’re here. If there was anything I wish was different it’d be that Ty and I could be together.”

  “What does he do? Where does he go? Why can’t you be together?”

  “He’s a prostitute, so his hours are all over the place.”

  “How long has he been a prostitute?”

  “Ever since I’ve known him. Mr. Delacroix and I have both tried to help him get out of prostitution, but he won’t. He’s the most frustrating human being I know. I’ve offered him work at the bar, too, but he won’t take it. He thinks he deserves to be what he is. I guess this is why Mr. Delacroix won’t offer him more. He just won’t step up.”

  “What’s he been offered?”

  “We—well, Mr. Delacroix mostly—take care of him. He’s tested every six months and is considered part of the family; he’s loyal as all get-out except for when it comes to his lifestyle. I mean, he answers to me, mostly, and sometimes, I come close to getting him straight in the head. But then he just backs out and closes the door. He knows I love him. I’ve offered him my heart. He doesn’t think he measures up, but he could if he tried.”

  “It’s nice that you all look after him.”

  “Oh, we get a return on it. Thanks to Ty, if anything is going on in the street, we know about it. He knows everything about everybody, so if something’s going down, we hear about it. A few months ago, he came into the bar and told me about a guy who came into town and was setting up a prostitution ring. Just last week, he clued us in on a new street drug called crank. He just knows everything, but most important of all, he knows who is involved and they trust him. It’s just nice to know what’s going on in the underbelly of things. If I ever need anything, he’s got contacts all along the coast.”

  “I guess I ran into the right guy when I came into town.”

  “You sure did, but at the same time, I’m not surprised you did. Ty has a very uncanny way of figuring out when things are about to happen. I tell ya, he just knows everything.”


  “Does he work for someone?”

  “Sort of,” Sunny smiled. “In reality, he works for himself, but it depends on who you ask. Word on the street is that he works for me, but I’m no pimp! We just feign that so others leave him alone. Just another way we take care of him. Once you’re part of the family, you can’t be touched, and so it goes.”

  “But he did give you a cut the other morning.”

  “Only because I allow him to front at my place. I don’t like it, but I’d rather see him base himself there than somewhere else. I can look after him, but he pays. No such thing as a free lunch.” Sunny shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “My thing with Ty is that he won’t change his ways. The guy is so damned frustrating.”

  “Maybe things will change if he comes out to Twisted Oak.”

  Sunny looked at me with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “The other night when Mr. Delacroix asked us if we were with him in wanting to go out there, Ty raised his glass. Don’t you remember?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do, but I don’t take that too seriously. Ty’ll never leave the city and he’ll never go legit.”

  “Let’s go to the Riverwalk,” I said. “You’re right; we need to get out of this place for a while.”

  The weather warmed up, so I was dressed in a short cream-colored skirt, light green tank top with a plunging neckline, and light brown leather sandals that Mr. Delacroix had set out for me before he went on his run that morning. “No makeup,” he had said; he told me that he prefers me not to wear it because he wants to wake up with the same person he goes to bed with.

  Sunny wore natural-colored linen pants and a faded blue button-down shirt with rubber flip-flops. He pulled his hair up in that thick ponytail he usually wore at the bar. “Let’s grab some beignets and coffee first. We’ll call it lunch, but we can’t make a habit of it or Mr. Delacroix will have both our asses in a sling.”

  “How delightful,” I smiled.

  “Stop it, you little slut. You’re in for one helluva night tonight if you keep this up.”