Napoleon's Gift

by Alie Infante

  *

  The scream left my throat as he took my nipple into his warm mouth, and his hand found its way to my thighs. He kissed my face, my eyelids, my cheeks, my brow, then came back to my lips. He drew back, then left my lips to kiss his way down my body. My breath caught as his tongue reached out and sucked me into his mouth, and I moaned deeper at the feel of his wonderful wet, warm mouth.

  His other hand came up; he took my nipple between his forefinger and thumb, gently brushing against it. He was suddenly above me, pushed at my knees with his, and as I looked up he pushed forward filling every inch of me. He brought my hips up, pulled himself out, so only the tip was inside me, then bent to take my nipple into his mouth again and I cried out, as he slammed his hips forward.

  “Vous ne pouvez pas le nier cette mon amour.” Ye cannot deny this my love. He whispered harshly. “Vous m’aimez, et vous savez que c'est vrai, dire. J'ai besoin de l’entendre.” Ye love me, and ye know this is true, say it, I need to hear it. He hissed as he began to move sideways and I screamed.

  “Oui ... oui ... tu sais que je t'aime. Mais cela ne veut pas faire de ce droit.” Yes…yes…you know I do, but that does not make it right! I screamed, and he brought me up to a sitting position. I was on his lap again. I smoothed the hair from his eyes, then kissed him deeply.

  He pulled me forward; I gasped as he hit something deep inside me, then began to rock my hips faster and faster. I could feel it building, higher and higher.

  As he jerked my hips faster, the screams began to leave me in a chant. I screamed his name as he continued, and I rode him and the orgasm.

  I frowned.

  I had not meant to be this way with him.

  This was given over to too many emotions.

  What was I to do now?

  Just one touch from him, and I ceased to think straight.

  He looked down on me, and I turned my face away from him. He put his finger under my chin, turned my face back, then brushed the tears away with his thumb.

  “Tu ne vois pas que je t'aime Geneviève?” Can ye not see that I love ye Geneviève? He whispered, and I looked into his eyes then.

  What he just said was shinning bright, but I knew this could never be; he had hurt me too much.

  We were from two worldly different classes.

  His eyes seemed to darken, and I closed mine to turn away from them.

  Those beautiful blue eyes of his.

  Those eyes were my very downfall, from the first day I looked into them many years ago, he had taken me.

  I could not help the sob; he sat up, pulled me into his lap wrapping his arms around me and held me while I cried.

  When my tears were spent, he brought me to my feet, and we both re-dressed. I looked towards the window, and saw the first shards of light.

  He tugged me to him, kissed me deeply, and I left the circle of his arms and rushed from the room.

  Benjamin stood there for several moments frowning.

  He had acted like a complete cad.

  How would she ever forgive him now?

  However, the very thought that she would prefer someone else’s touch than his, had infuriated him.

  She loved him though, he thought smiling now.

  Although in French, she had said it, and he would hold her to it no matter what!

  His frown deepened as he descended the stairs and observed Madame Soleil.

  “Mme Basile’s contract has been terminated with Madame.” He stated, and she frowned.

  “And who shall repay my expenses, for the last month where she is concerned?” She hissed, and he frowned.

  Benjamin was quite knowledgeable on the facts of prostitution. He and Bartholomew had helped to bring the deplorable conditions to Parliament. It was because of Bartholomew’s obsession with Bordellos, that he was even made aware of what truly went on. However, thank God, although obsessed, Bartholomew rarely frequented them.

  During the Middle Ages, prostitution was commonly found in urban contexts. Although the Roman Catholic Church regarded all forms of sexual activity outside of marriage as sinful, prostitution was tolerated because it was held to prevent the greater evils of rape, sodomy, and masturbation.

  Augustine of Hippo held that: “If you expel prostitution from society, you will unsettle everything on account of lusts”. The general tolerance of prostitution was for the most part reluctant, and many canonists urged prostitutes to reform.

  By the end of the 15th century, attitudes hardened against prostitution. An outbreak of syphilis in Naples 1494, which later swept across Europe, and which may have originated from the Columbian Exchange and the prevalence of other sexually transmitted diseases from the earlier 16th century may have been the cause for this change in attitude.

  With the advent of the Protestant Reformation, numbers of Southern German towns closed their brothels in an attempt to eradicate prostitution. In some periods prostitutes had to distinguish themselves by particular signs, sometimes wearing very short hair or no hair at all, or wearing veils in societies where other women did not wear them. Ancient codes regulated in this case the crime of a prostitute that dissimulated her profession. In some cultures, prostitutes were the sole women allowed to sing in public or act in theatrical performances.

  Benjamin knew even now, presumably in Venice, prostitutes started using penis sheaths, made with catgut or cow bowel. However, this was something far removed from the Americas unless ye were an aristocrat. With Madame’s clientele, he was not surprised that she had acquired them.

  “I will, ye may as well tally the entire bill and send it to me. As of this moment, she no longer works for ye.” He commanded frowning.

  “And what is it that I shall tell her?” Madame demanded, and he gave her a look.

  “Tell her that she is terminated, there is nothing further that ye need say.” He stated, then took his leave.

  ***

  Madame frowned, then motioned for Monique to fill her glass.

  She would not be outdone in this way!

  Once again, Marié’s little bitch found favor!

  When will it end? She thought, her frown deepening.

  She was always made to feel second to those holier than thou Basile’s.

  She would have her justice!

  She hissed to herself as Geneviève came down the stairs.

  “Vous êtes congédié, j'ai déchiré votre contrat.” You are terminated; I tore up your contract. She spat with such contempt, I was taken by surprise as I gasped.

  “Mais pourquoi?” But why I cried, then frowned.

  Why on earth would I care, this was a gift horse.

  “Vous n'êtes pas digne de cet établissement, sinon Pourquoi.” You are not worthy of my establishment, why else, she sneered, and I nodded.

  That was fine by me; in fact, I would be thanking the merciful lord.

  I nodded curtly, then exited the establishment.

  Madame looked up frowning as Monsieur Marrow walked towards her.

  “How many times has she been here?” He hissed, and Madame looked up at him.

  “As of moments ago, she was an employee of mine.” She purred, and he snatched her forward.

  “Ye lie!” He spat, and she shook her head.

  “I do not. Although, she has only serviced one caller since she has been here.”

  “Who?” Mr. Charles demanded, and she smiled.

  “Monsieur Waverly, she has been his bitch.” She stated, he gasped, then frowned.

  “For how long now?”

  “Over a month.” Madame smiled, he nodded.

  “And has he paid for the duration of her services and the tally?” Charles asked, she frowned, then shook her head.

  “Non, I am to tally it and send the bill.” Madame replied, and he nodded grinning evilly.

  “And the tally?” Charles asked, she wrote a figure on a piece of paper, then moved the paper towards him. Charles looked up at her frowning.

  “Fine, ye shall send the bill to me, not him.”
He hissed, then snatched her towards him, to drive his point home.

  “Fine.” Madame spat, he released her, then left the establishment.

  ***

  Once outside, Charles frowned deeper.

  Why that little bitch!

  Acting as though she belonged to no one!

  She was his, from the day he laid eyes on her.

  She would not get away with this! To sully herself with that English bastard!

  He hissed to himself, then called Varney for his carriage.

  They would both pay!

  ***

  Madame looked towards the door, then frowned again.

  She had just lost her pot of gold. However would she retrieve it, or at least monies she was due for her time. If there was one thing she knew, it was money. Neither of them would best her, she promised herself. She needed to find someway to protect herself, for what she was about to do.

  Marié’s bastards would no longer continue to prosper, if she had anything to do with it. Madame would not allow it as her mother did years ago; Soleil was not her mother in any way. Belle Jean St. Clare was a foolish woman, who believed in a time and place for everything, however, what had that gotten her; consumption, pennilessness, and death. Madame would not be a repeat performance of her mother.

  Madame hurried from the room, grabbed her money purse, then had Harvey carriage her to Madame Voule. She would have her revenge, because a woman had not much else.

  Madame frowned as she climbed into the carriage. Although not African by direct decent, most of the people, who knew her did not know of her great-great grandmother Hilda who was an African priestess, who practiced the arts. Only Madame Voule knew this.

  Voodoo was brought to the French colony Louisiana from Africa, as well from the Haitian exiles after the Haitian revolution. From 1719 to 1731, the majority of African captives came directly from the West of Africa, bringing with them their cultural practices, languages, and religious beliefs rooted in spirit and ancestor worship. Their knowledge of herbs, poisons, and the ritual creation of charms and amulets, intended to protect oneself or harm others, became key elements of Louisiana Voodoo. The slave community quickly acquired a strong presence in Louisiana. The colony was not a stable society when slaves arrived, which allowed African culture to maintain a prominent position in the slave community.

  Another component of Louisiana Voodoo brought from Africa was the worship of ancestors and the subsequent emphasis on respect for elders. For this reason, the rate of survival among elderly slaves was high; further “Africanizing Louisiana Creole culture.

  Because of the fusion of Francophone culture and voodoo in Louisiana, many Voodoo spirits became associated with the Christian saints that presided over the same domain. Although Voodoo and Catholic practices are radically different, both saints and spirits act as mediators with the Legba presiding over specific activities. Early followers of Voodoo in the United States adopted the image of the Catholic Saints to their spirits. Other Catholic practices adopted into Louisiana Voodoo include reciting the Hail Mary and the Lord’s Prayer.

  Madame smiled, as she jumped down from the carriage, and Madame Voule opened the door for her.

  “Hello chil, what can I do for you?” She asked as she welcomed Madame Soleil in, and she handed Madame Voule the money purse.

  “I need a protection spell.” Madame Soleil replied, and Madame Voule frowned.

  “From what chér?”

  “Come, and I shall explain.” Madame Soleil smiled as she tugged her great-great aunt to the back of the establishment.

  Haven

  Plantation…

  When I reached home, I climbed down from the carriage somber. As I walked through the door, the tears came, and I could not stop them.

  There was no, “where has my chér been,” nor any, “Come in file, I’ve made something special for you,” nothing.

  I wailed, as if I were a dying woman.

  How would I go on without my Marié?

  I curled into a ball on the floor, and just wept.

  What would I do now?

  ***

  Benjamin frowned as Abel placed the breakfast plate before him. He shook his head, then pushed it away from him.

  What he required, food would not suffice.

  How on earth, could he get her to converse with him?

  He frowned to himself, as he thought about her working for Madame’s establishment.

  Thank God, he had been her only client.

  However, it still pained him that she would rather work for Madame, than come to him. Had she truly been hurt that deeply, that she would rather this, than trust him again.

  He sighed, placed his balled fist to his forehead as he bent his head into it closing his eyes. What he felt for her ran deep, even then. He had no clue what love was at the time, however with the barrage of women he had been through since then, he knew now, because she held the only spot in his heart, and had ceased to vacate it.

  He had to contemplate something to secure her; she was massacring him, pride and all!

  He vowed, then looked up startled as Bartholomew walked into the dinning room.

  “There ye are. I have been searching for ye for hours. Ye made no mention that ye were going out?” Bartholomew cried as he took his seat. “I daresay in yer condition, it isn’t wise mate.”

  Benjamin just looked at him, then rose and went to the bar.

  “Tis still quite early on for that chum.” Bartholomew smiled, then frowned as he watched as Benjamin turned the glass up, then poured another.

  Benjamin left the room then.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Bartholomew asked himself, then frowned up at Abel as he sat the breakfast plate before him.

  Abel shrugged, then went back to the kitchens.

  Cattails

  Bayou…

  As I glided across the river, I frowned, because I had not been to see Onrey in a very long time. As the boat floated to the other side of the river, and I looked up at the shade of age-old cypresses laden with Spanish moss, I realized I missed Onrey terribly. I had not seen him once since Benjamin arrived, and I was quite ashamed of that.

  As I saw the long-legged waterfowl, poised patiently, waiting to scoop up their dinner with long, pointed beaks, I smiled again, because this was what Louisiana swampland was all about. I side stepped the snake, then realized it was not poisonous with a sigh. The lumbering nutria, which we call the cousin to the more familiar American muskrat, moved lazily along his way, and I was equally surprised to see the raccoon and swamp deer at this time of year.

  When I walked into the yard, Mrs. Bushé smiled, and I laughed to myself, as I smelled the catfish on the cast iron potbelly stove. Mrs. Bushé was a hardy stout woman, who must have weighed nearly as much as Benjamin. As well, she stood nearly as tall too. Her deep auburn hair was pulled back from her face, the freckles more visible throughout her entire face. She was strong, but a very delightful woman; not to mention, one of the best cooks I knew besides Granny and Ms. Millie.

  “Well hello chér, I am so sorry to hear bout yo Grandmier.” She wailed, and I smiled as I blinked back the tears.

  “Thank you.” I called, and she nodded.

  “She was an amazing woman, and I shall miss her dearly.” She called back, and I nodded. “So chéri, what chue doin hur?” She asked smiling, and I smiled back as I came into the yard.

  “I was wondering if Onrey were about?” I called, and she frowned for several moments, then shook her head.

  “No such luck today chér, I believe he be in the swamps till supper time. Can I give him a message for chér?” She asked, and I shook my head.

  “No ma’am. I just wanted to inquire of him about Gonrey.”

  “That boy aien’t no kinda good chér, you stey awey from him, ya hear?” She hissed, and I nodded.

  “But I will tell Onrey you were here.” She smiled, and I frowned slightly.

  Her entire person changed at the mention of Gonrey’s name.
It confirmed my suspicions; Onrey knew absolutely, what his brother was up to. However, I would never ever believe that Onrey was capable of such a vile act.

  “Thank you Mrs. Bushé, please do.” I said waving as I climbed aboard the boat, then rowed myself back across the river.

  When I reached the house, I went in search of Abel. He would certainly know what the devil was going on.

  Chapter Eight…

  Haven…

  An entire week passed of me avoiding Benjamin. I would go to Ms. Millie’s, from there to town for anything, that Abel needed, then I would lock myself in the house and mostly just sleep. Since I no longer worked for Madame, I was not exactly sure what I was to do with myself, especially without Granny there to direct my time. He would summon me, but I would refuse to go. He would then arrive unannounced; I would bolt the door and decline to receive him.

  If he were not able to see that this was a mistake, then I would have to be the one to show him.

  I sighed as I walked from the garden towards Claudette’s home.

  She had been acting very odd lately, and I could not understand why. I assumed from the way she spoke of Benjamin, she had no strong like of him, but I could not understand why. He had never darkened her doorway, nor treated her in a manner, which befell her hatred of him.

  If I had not known better, I would declare it was jealousy; however, I pushed it from my mind as I approached the house, and she smiled at me from her garden. I waved to Mr. Bonaparté as he waved from the terrace.

  I wondered if he knew of his daughter’s taste.

  “Hello file, where have you been.” She cried as she got up, embraced me, then kissed both my cheeks.

  “Trying to contain myself with gardening, just as you are, so that my jumbling of thoughts should cease. Unfortunately, I have had no such providence.” I said as I took up the next row of Basil.

  “Come, we shall not do this today. I have pined for you so.” She smiled as she tugged me into the house.