“And this is Chef!” Mr. Delacroix said as he rushed over to help him with his load.
“Thanks, Mr. Delacroix. I didn’t think I was gonna make it.” He dropped an onion. “I never bring enough baskets.”
“Chef, I’d like you to meet Miss Nez.” Mr. Delacroix took my hand and brought me closer. Chef set the burlap bag down and only then noticed the other staff members in the room.
“Oh, Mr. Delacroix, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was interrupting.” He held his hand out to shake mine. “Nice to meet you, Miss Nez. Mr. Scott mentioned that you’d be joining us this week. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to be here.”
“It’s not you who’s interrupting, Chef. As far as I’m concerned, this is your office, not mine. Have you seen Thomas?” Mr. Delacroix asked and bent to pick up the onion.
“Yes, sir, he’s in the wine cellar taking inventory.” Chef took the onion from Mr. Delacroix.
“No wonder I couldn’t get a hold of him,” Janey said.
“Okay, we’ll press on so ya’ll can get back to your day,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Thanks for taking time to meet Miss Nez.”
We left the way we came in and walked around to the front of the house.
“Best not to interrupt Thomas in the middle of inventory. He can get a bit testy when he’s working,” Mr. Delacroix said as he held the front door open for me. This time we entered the library to the left of the foyer. The room was the same size as the parlor, a mirror image of it, but there were books of all kinds from floor to ceiling. Two writing desks sat in opposite corners with a settee in the middle, and serving stations had been placed on the front wall between the French doors. A stately grand piano sat in the corner. I had never seen such a collection of books before.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“My lord, this is unbelievable. This whole day has been unbelievable. I couldn’t have imagined this kind of life before you. The whole thing is just unreal, my lord.”
“Like a dream?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, a wonderful dream.”
He held me gently as if I would break. “Come on, let’s go look upstairs. We’re staying where Ty and Sunny will have their rooms when they come here to live.”
I followed him out of the library, through the foyer, and up the stairs past the haunting portrait of Jean-Pierre.
“I’ll show you the west wing first,” he said as we took a right and entered a wide hallway with a large closet and a large room that appeared to be a home office. Another room had gym equipment. There were no small rooms in Twisted Oak.
“Welcome to the west wing. This is where Jackson and Marie-Louise will live.”
Mr. Delacroix opened the double doors at the end of the hallway and we stepped into a grand living room with a fireplace and modern furnishings. The lighting came from crystal lamps, all brightness and sparkle. The ceiling fan went around in slow, languid circles. The walls had large windows with a view of the gardens and adjacent fields. I noticed a tennis court in the distance.
A kitchenette with refrigerator, teapot, and coffeemaker was tucked behind the entrance door; through there a hallway led to a bathroom the size of the dining room in the apartment. Beyond that, a splendid corner bedroom overlooked the majestic oaks and bayous. A fresh breeze blew the sheer drapes, which made me think of liquid cream. The smell of jasmine and magnolia filled the room.
We ventured back out across the gallery over the foyer and entered the east wing through large double doors that Mr. Delacroix quietly closed behind us. It was almost a mirror image of the other side, but instead of the closet and home office along a hallway, the double doors appeared almost immediately. Where the home office and closet would have been, there was an anteroom that adjoined the suite through a set of double hung doors. The anteroom was empty except for a chest of drawers, a king-size bed dressed in red bedding, and a chaise lounge upholstered in gold brocade.
The walls were bare except for large iron hooks. I noticed the ceiling had them too. There were no windows and the walls were painted black. A set of double doors hung on the opposite wall. The main living area we would stay in was furnished similarly to the other bedroom, modern, bright, and airy.
Mr. Delacroix let out his infectious giggle. “Wait till you see the master suite where we’ll spend the rest of our lives. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, cher.”
“The rest of our lives, sir?”
“Nezzie, I already told you I’m in this for the long haul.”
I hugged him as hard as I could. “Thank you, my lord.”
“It pleases you,” he said.
“Oh yes, sir. More than you know.”
“Good girl,” he smiled. “It pleases me too. But Nezzie, you must remember your position. If I want you to hug me, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”
“While on the subject of rules, once you come through the double doors in the gallery, you are to disrobe immediately. In here, you’ll be naked as you are required to be in our bedroom in town.”
“Yes, sir.” I began to unbutton my blouse. “Sorry, sir.”
“These rooms are private and no one will enter without permission as long as the doors are closed, so no need to worry about Thomas or the maids.” He turned to see my naked body. “Thank you, Nezzie. I appreciate your nakedness.”
“You’re welcome, sir.” I lay my clothing on the chaise, feeling liberated to be naked in such an open area. “What’s that black room for?”
“That adjoins the master suite so that we don’t have to go out in the hallway to join one another. Jackson and Marie-Louise can come here or we can go there without worry, and that room remains neutral.”
“I see, my lord.”
“No, actually, you don’t yet,” he smiled. “But you will.”
24.
My sundress was yellow, the color of the pepper blossoms. The simple flat shoes were gold, and Mr. Delacroix had given me a bracelet with a sun pendant that hung below my ankle.
“My lord, how do you decide what I should wear every day? Why do you have me wear the things I do?”
“What a funny question,” he said.
“Sir, I’m curious. Do you have a list of things for each day that you make up ahead of time?”
“Is that how you dressed yourself, Nezzie, with a list?” he asked as he slipped on a huarache-style sandal.
“No, my lord, but you seem to have everything so well planned.”
“It’s my job to have things well planned. Besides, this dress is perfect for your Twisted Oak wardrobe. Do you not like it?”
“Oh no, my lord, I love everything you choose.”
“As it should be. You look like a ray of sunshine, just how I imagined.”
“Thank you, my lord.” I examined the dress in the full-length mirror as I secured the halter tie. “You never choose dark colors for me.”
“You’re too pure at heart for that. Darks don’t express your character very well. I tried it once and I didn’t care for it on you.”
“My character, my lord?”
“Yes. Young, pure, untouched, sweetly naïve, and so full of promise; you’re my hope. I see only brightness when I see you, and lately, you’re all that I see.” He leaned back on the chaise. “I . . .” He balked and I thought maybe he would finally say it; I stayed still and silent and waited. “Nezzie,” another pause, “you scare me sometimes.”
The insecure man that sat before me was longing for assurance, but the timing was wrong to say I loved him. We needed to be in our own home, in our own bed, for that.
“My lord, I’ll always be here with you, under you, however you wish me to be. I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “You have to trust me, my lord.”
He smiled. �
�Of course, my love. Tonight I’ll not only be stuck with you, I’ll have you tied up so you can’t escape even if you wanted to.” He came at me in a playful manner and I ran into the living room, squealing. I remembered the day in Lafayette Cemetery and dodged around the sofa.
“You can have it if you can catch it, sir,” I said as I lifted my dress and showed him my ass.
“Oh, you fucking little bitch,” he said as he dove over the back of the sofa, but I sidestepped and ran around the chair and flashed him again. This time he did not hesitate and almost got me, but I ran behind the small dining table.
“I will get you, Nezzie, and when I do . . .”
I ran into the black room. I was cornered, prey for my predator.
Habitually, my legs spread for him. His right hand was instantly groping my crotch and his left hand held my wrists behind me. “On your knees,” he said and I immediately went down. He grabbed my hair with both hands and jerked my head up so I could see his eyes. “Open your mouth.”
He shoved his hard shaft down my throat. I found it alarming to have my windpipe blocked, but he pulled back for a moment or two, allowing me to catch my breath. When it was apparent to him that I had, he thrust so hard, my head struck the wall until he grabbed my hair to hold me steady. I relaxed my breath in accordance to his rhythm. My groin ached and I felt my juices drip. I wanted to cry out, but his unyielding organ dampened my vocal cords, bathing them in creamy salty sweet as he shoved deeper into my throat.
I was still swallowing when he reached under my armpits and lifted me to my feet. His strong arm wrapped around me as we walked out of the room. He sat me in the oversized chair, brought me a glass of water from the kitchenette, and dabbed my chin and cheeks with a cloth napkin.
“Just think of it as an appetizer for your lunch,” he smiled.
We left our rooms and went through the door underneath the main staircase. I had not noticed this large butler’s pantry before because the grandeur of the room had swept my eyes upwards instead of down.
“My mother would cringe if she knew I was bringing you through here, but it’s so tedious to walk all the way around through the library. One of the few real memories I have of her is her fussing at me not to come through here on the way to dinner.” He took my hand. “This way.”
We came through into a grand dining room almost as large as the parlor. The walls were painted the color of fresh cream and adorned with thick gilt-frame mirrors and more pastoral artwork. The lavishly stained wooden dining table was almost as dark as ebony, with twelve matching dining chairs upholstered in creamy yellow brocade. The centerpiece was a smaller version of the floral arrangement in the foyer. All along either side of the table were large-scale sideboards and buffets set with more service tools. French doors along the back wall were thrown open, leading out to a brick terrace that overlooked an expansive backyard. Birdsong and the smell of cut grass wafted through the doors. I could hear a young woman laughing.
“Come on. They’re here already,” he said as he led me through the open doors. The brick terrace was generous in size and covered, for the most part, by the second floor of the building. I noticed the building was L-shaped. We had not seen the rooms behind the library. Shuttered French doors gave it a forlorn feel.
A table for four was just inside the second-story overhang, out of the sun, with a small floral centerpiece and a white tablecloth waving in the breeze. Water glasses were filled and a bottle of wine was chilling in a stand, sweating in the warmth.
We stood and watched Jackson and Marie-Louise play croquet for a few moments. I understood what Mr. Delacroix meant when he said she was childlike. Her clothing was what a twenty-something would wear, but her mannerisms were very youthful; she jumped up and down when she made a good shot and squealed when her ball went awry. She even tried to pick the ball up and move it as a child would, until Jackson corrected her by slapping her hand and telling her no in a harsh manner, only to have her pout.
My stomach was in knots. I was not as nervous about meeting Jackson again as I was about meeting Marie-Louise for the first time. I squeezed Mr. Delacroix’s hand.
“Don’t let her fool you. Yes, she is ignorant in so many ways, but when it comes to the lifestyle, she’s anything but. She’s got her talents and she’s a good person who’s never known anything else but this place and our ways. Be patient and kind and she’ll return the favor.”
He waved to them and turned to me. “Just be mindful that she’s honest to a fault and will say anything that comes to mind. She’s very literal. Try not to take the things she says personally, if she offends you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Gregory-Michel,” Marie-Louise crooned when she saw us. She dropped her mallet and came toward us. A small flame of jealousy gripped me, but snuffed out when Jackson took her by the arm and gave her a swift, concentrated spanking. He turned her to face him and I could hear his muffled reprimand. Her long, silky brown hair blew in the breeze as he held her by the arms and shook her abruptly as he spoke. She tried to look down, but he took her chin in his fingers and brought her head up so her eyes would meet his. He shook his finger in her face, turned her around, and spanked her again.
“My lord, is this going to be a problem?” I asked.
“It needn’t be. Just let me do the talking and if she asks you something, just answer honestly.”
Marie-Louise approached with Jackson at her heels. “Mr. Delacroix, I’m glad to see you.”
Up close, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Round brown eyes were wide set and large, her nose perfectly straight and well proportioned. Her mouth was full of pearl teeth, and her lips were plump and sensual. Thick chocolate hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she was curvy and fit inside tanned skin. Her neck was decorated with a thick gold collar. Small circular hoops were spaced evenly around it, two of which were attached to chains that fell beneath the loose bodice of her sleeveless dress.
“Marie-Louise, how are you?” Mr. Delacroix asked as he held his hand out for her.
“I’m feeling good,” she said. “Master lost again.”
“Marie-Louise, do you take pleasure when your master loses?” Mr. Delacroix asked her in a stern voice.
“Only sometimes, sir,” she said with a smile. “When he wins, I win.”
“Well said, Marie-Louise,” Mr. Delacroix said. Jackson approached and held his hand out for Mr. Delacroix to shake. “Afternoon, Jackson. Marie-Louise beat you again.”
“Yes, sir, she did, fair and square this time.” Jackson put his arm around Marie-Louise. “How are you, Miss Nez? It’s good to see you again.”
“I’m very well, thank you. Twisted Oak is stunning. I’ve enjoyed the tour so far. What a gorgeous place.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is. Marie-Louise, say hello to Miss Nez,” Jackson urged. “Soon she’ll be the new lady here at Twisted Oak.”
Marie-Louise held her hand out to shake mine and curtsied a little. “I’m happy to meet you.” Her smile was arresting, but her eyes remained averted.
“Did you see the village?” Jackson asked me.
“I don’t think so. I saw so many things, maybe I did.” I looked questioningly at Mr. Delacroix.
“You saw part of it when I told you where Marie-Louise is from, but we turned around to see the peppers.”
“Mr. Delacroix,” Jackson said, “you should show her the rest tomorrow. Miss Nez, it’s really a part of the history, the Twisted Oak village. The people who lived there worked the plantation. Hell, they even had their own economy, a barter system with their own currency. They still have their own marketplace.”
“Very feudal,” I said.
“Absolutely, Miss Nez, but alas, those days are gone since much of the original plantation was sold off. We’ve still got a few residents that live out there and work their areas, though. Mr. Delacroix wouldn’t have his peppers and his strawberries w
ithout them.”
“How exactly does that work?” I asked, but Mr. Delacroix gave me a pinch to remind me of proper salutations. Marie-Louise took in a sharp breath.
Jackson chimed in. “The folks who live out there are there because they choose to be. Some of them have been there for generations and others signed on more recently. They get to live virtually rent-free except for their utilities. We maintain the shacks for them and give a monthly stipend in return for their labor on the farm, and they get part of the harvest to consume or sell at their farmers’ market. They basically lease the land from us. It’s a simple life that some prefer.”
“So it’s like a business, then?”
“Absolutely. We keep books and pay taxes, the whole nine yards. Everything’s aboveboard. A real win-win situation.” Jackson pointed the way to the table and we made our way across the brick terrace.
“My lord, where does Thomas live?” I asked.
“In the servants’ quarters in the house, but he has a place in the village, too. He spends most nights out there with his family.”
“What are those rooms, sir?” I pointed to the closed French doors.
“That’s the children’s wing. As you can imagine, it’s been empty for a long time now. We’ll have a look at it later,” Mr. Delacroix said as he took my hand.
“Miss Nez, where did you come from?” Marie-Louise asked.
“Kansas City,” I said. Her eyes were so dark that you could barely see the pupils. One could get lost in those eyes.
“That’s far away,” she said with her wide, innocent eyes. “How did you get here?”
“I came by air,” I said, “in an airplane.”
“Oh my god, weren’t you scared?” she asked earnestly. “Why did you leave? I can’t imagine being brave enough to leave home.”
I looked at Mr. Delacroix and he nodded. “I left my home because my people didn’t want me.”
Mr. Delacroix leaned in and whispered, “Good girl, best to keep it simple.”
Marie-Louise’s eyes shared my grief. “I know what it’s like, Miss Nez. My momma didn’t want me either. Do you have a daddy?”
Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey Page 25