Evil's Niece

by Melissa MacNeal

  As we approached the dining room, where aproned waiters put final touches on their linen-draped tables before the noonday meal, T-Jon distracted the maître de with Continental chitchat. Monique and I merely nodded and passed on to the coat rack, in a back hallway where the toilets were. My maid placed our hats on a table, watching for her lover’s signal as he questioned the head waiter.

  ‘It’s that little room off to the side,’ she whispered, carefully noting that no one else was around. ‘Let’s go now, before anyone notices us.’

  Heart pounding, I followed her at what I hoped was a nonchalant gait, feeling sure things had gone far too well and that we’d be interrogated, or seen entering on the sly. As we passed through the door, Monique gave T-Jon a little nod — and then she whisked me under the table so fast I nearly took the floor-length table cloth with me.

  ‘I thought you were —’

  ‘Too risky, playing server where the waiters have been here forever,’ she replied in a breathless whisper. ‘Now that we’re in position, T-Jon will find a back door out, so Chapin won’t spot him. It’s up to us — up to you,’ she added, grinning in the dimness. ‘There’s no way out. You’ve got to get it right, Aunt Evil!’

  How had I been talked into this? As my eyes adjusted to the shadows under the table, my pulse thundered in my ears. What if we got caught? What if someone peeked beneath the linens, and saw a young man between his knees?

  My husband would be furious. No doubt in my mind I wouldn’t be leaving the house for days if I failed at this, and I didn’t dare imagine the price I’d pay for humiliating Chapin in front of his most important supporters. I tried desperately to think of a way out of this brazen escapade, but the sound of male voices told me it was already too late.

  Monique bussed my cheek and flashed me a thumbs-up. ‘What other woman would go to such extremes, to prove how badly she wants her man? How much she loves him, non?’ she whispered.

  This thought would have to sustain me, for as conversations came through the door and chairs were pulled back, my fate as Chapin Proffit’s wife was about to be defined by male legs, in boots and trousers.

  ‘So pleased to hear of your support, Senator Searcy!’ came a honeyed voice. ‘Here, please sit by me so I can become better acquainted with your ideas.’

  I swallowed hard: that was Chapin speaking. He would be at the head of the table, so I pointed myself in that direction — yet the ornately tooled boots and pinstriped trousers positioning themselves on the seat did not belong to my husband. Monique grinned, waited for the man to settle, and then ran a teasing finger around his kneecap.

  A large hand reached beneath the cloth to clamp hers, and I thought we were already goners. But when she kissed his knuckles, he stroked her face.

  Dewel! I had assumed he’d be anywhere but here, yet the appearance of Proffit solidarity would be in both brothers’ interests. And now that the bastard heir realised a little game was going on beneath the table, things might get interesting indeed! As the rest of the gentlemen took their seats, I noted a slender set of legs clad in houndstooth at the opposite end, where my husband would preside over this gathering of eight esteemed guests. Guests who were about to receive more than they bargained for, as they pledged their support.

  ‘Gentlemen!’ Chapin called out cheerfully. ‘I am inspired yet humbled by the enthusiasm of New Orleans’s finest, most successful families and businesses, represented here. Today’s meeting will clarify our party’s goals and platforms, which, as your next mayor, I vow to execute with all the integrity and honour of the Proffit name. For generations my family has helped plot the course of this great city, and I challenge you to join me in this highest of causes, to ensure continued success and prosperity for us all!’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ someone chimed in, and glasses clinked above us.

  ‘Time to start on our own high causes, non?’ my companion murmured. Her eyes sparkled in the shadows, as she pointed to the set of legs on Chapin’s left. ‘Only fitting to serve a senator first.’

  I held my breath as the slender young woman crawled to the overfed calves clad in conservative charcoal trousers, which bulged at thighs that disappeared into the drape of the tablecloth. Monique placed her hands gently on those knees and held them, waiting for the shiver of surprise to ebb. Then she ran a single finger up the inside of each plump leg.

  ‘I commend your choice of meeting places,’ came a sonorous voice, as the clatter of china announced soup bowls being set on serving plates. ‘I’ve always heard the service here at the Beau Monde is the finest, and this…delicious-smelling bisque is only the beginning of a delightful dining experience, I’m sure!’

  As the senator patted his napkin over his lap, he spread his legs — and damned if he didn’t unfasten his fly! Monique wasted no time fishing out his thick, stubby member, which was rising rapidly between her hands.

  Chapin chuckled. ‘We can count on the staff’s discretion too. It’s important that nothing enacted today gets beyond this room, of course.’

  Of course, my thoughts echoed. I prayed this would hold true for my own brazen activities, as I watched my maid take the senator’s erection into her mouth.

  ‘Oh…oh, my lordy-lord,’ Searcy groaned, shifting to allow her better access. ‘I can see myself coming here, very soon and often, if this…wine is any indication of the club’s other…refinements.’

  I nearly choked on my laughter, aware I was watching an expert at her work — and that I should first practise on someone other than my husband. As the senator’s knees began to quiver around Monique’s shoulders, I slithered to the opposite end of the table.

  Dewel’s legs stretched before me, long and muscled and — well, they were the most impressive limbs under that table, possessing the quiet power of an animal that could pounce without warning. The tablecloth had ridden up to his belt — or had he put it there in anticipation of Monique’s mouth?

  I smiled. He was about to receive something as sinfully delicious as anything my maid could serve up. Just looking at that fly, with the long bulge along one side of its seam, gave me the confidence I needed to go through with this outrageous stunt.

  I paused with my hands hovering above his knees. Then I let them rest there, savouring his strength when he parted his legs so I could crouch between them. He reached surreptitiously beneath the table cloth to stroke my face, lingering as though he already knew I wasn’t his little maid.

  ‘And what do you think of your brother’s being chosen as our candidate?’ the man beside him asked. I didn’t recognise the voice, but he wore pale grey trousers that should’ve been a size larger. ‘If he scratches the right backs and keeps his nose clean, it could mean a run for the governor’s chair down the road.’

  Dewel shifted, ostensibly to address this question — but it also opened him to my attentions. His fly was already undone.

  ‘Chapin has always been the quintessential politician,’ he replied in a thoughtful drawl. ‘Has the looks to attract the ladies — which’ll make their men take notice — and the resources and reputation to carry his campaign as far as he cares to. Already talks the talk, and walks with all the right backslappers.’

  As I coaxed the hardening shaft from his pants, I detected more resentment or rivalry than endorsement. Sadly enough, he’d described my husband to a tee yet hadn’t said anything very flattering. Not that I expected Dewel to kiss anyone’s backside on his brother’s behalf.

  ‘Will his wife be a problem? They say with her northern upbringing — St. Louis, isn’t it? — she doesn’t always cotton to the ways of the Southern aristocracy.’

  I sucked hard, running my rounded lips down the thick, warm piston poking out of his fly. He chuckled — I could imagine him smiling at his companion in that way that would let the man know nothing about what Dewel Proffit really felt about me.

  ‘Miss Eve should never be given the short end of the stick,’ the man in my grasp said with a breathy laugh. ‘Personally, I find her much bet
ter versed in current issues than most wives, and she’s not afraid to try new…exciting ways of doing things. Much as we good old boys love tradition, we need to recognise more satisfying solutions — more…mutually beneficial positions — allowing our ladies to…come with us, into the future.’

  Dewel was doing his damnedest not to buck, while I — as a reward for his complimentary remarks — rapidly sucked and licked the engorged head of his cock.

  ‘Are you saying Chapin will promote women’s suffrage?’ came his companion’s reply. ‘If his wife doesn’t know her place —’

  ‘Oh, Eve Proffit holds her own wherever she is. Positions herself to maximum advantage, and has a strong…grasp of her husband’s political aspirations.’

  His voice was wavering, yet he continued with a confidence that made me proud to know him; proud to pleasure a man with such progressive views. ‘She’ll wait until Chapin’s elected before making any radical moves — and by then, who can she hurt? Again, the women who envy her…skill and pluck will rally behind Chapin, to keep Miss Eve in the public eye.’

  Was he fighting a grimace? Did his companion suspect what was going on in the nether regions beneath his napkin? His hips quivered, and then the first drops shot out, followed by a torrent of buttery honey. I gulped and swallowed, keeping the front of his trousers clean, and then licked all traces of his juice from his cock and the springy hair at its base.

  His shaft remained stiff, so I thought it best to move on — to let Dewel get it limp enough to tuck back into his pants. His enthusiastic response to my sucking encouraged me; another caress was thanks enough as I moved from between his fine, long legs. Lord, but he was a sight from the thighs down, compared to those around him! I shifted carefully around all the other boots to my husband’s legs, for the waiters were setting down the main course now.

  Monique grinned at me in the dimness, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The little minx had already serviced the man on the other side of Chapin, who was probably wondering why Senator Searcy and this fellow were both smiling broadly, agreeing with whatever he said! I scooted forward, glad the cool marble floor made easier work of moving around in these close quarters between eight sets of knees and the table’s pedestals.

  But as I moved in to touch him, Chapin cleared his throat ceremoniously. ‘Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re aware of the vulnerability of any man holding public office these days — not to mention the time required to maintain his personal investments and properties, while he performs the civic duties he was elected for. With this in mind, I’ve procured a valet. A man who will assist with my mayoral affairs, and see to my personal safety in public.’

  My mouth dropped open. Not a word had my husband uttered about such an employee: in deference to Fanny Frike’s feelings, he’d gone years without a valet after her nephew, Will, died in an unfortunate accident. I wondered if these affairs included Savanna. Would his new valet serve as his lookout?

  ‘Excellent idea!’ a man near Dewel responded.

  ‘You never know what those Republicans might try when your candidacy is announced,’ another man agreed.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen. Your support is heartening.’ Chapin straightened in his chair — just as my hands almost landed on the tops of his thighs. ‘May I introduce Judd Schuck? You’ve no doubt noted his burly physique, and the way he’s been eyeing all of you as you ate.’

  Laughter, followed by light applause, filled the little dining room. Monique’s hand went to her mouth when the legs she’d just fondled stood up to be recognised. Hopefully he was holding his coat over his fly, for he hadn’t had time to fasten it! Less humorous, however, was the prospect of Chapin having another ally at the house; demanding his own room, no doubt.

  ‘I’m hoping you’ll see fit to advance his salary as a party expenditure — which, of course, will come from my own coffers, should I not be elected,’ my husband continued. ‘His presence should help us all have a more enjoyable time at the parties I’ve planned — the first being a grand Mardi Gras-style costume ball at the house, a week from this Saturday, to announce my candidacy. You’re all invited, of course. Along with your ladies of the evening.’

  There was a taut pause and then laughter broke out at Chapin’s turn of phrase. I sat seething beneath the table: once again the wife was the last to know, about the valet and now the magnificent social event I was expected to hostess! And now that my husband had charmed these important supporters by invoking that good-old-boy camaraderie — alluding to the courtesans they carried on with, just as he did — the golden Proffit had indeed reached the inner circle. Hosting a costume ball, so their mistresses could attend without being recognised by their wives.

  Clever man, my husband.

  I was no slacker myself. As soon as he sat back against his chair, I eased my palms over his thighs, stopping to allow his mental adjustment.

  Chapin stiffened; not as inspirational as his brother’s reaction, given his willowy build. A tentative hand came under the table, bearing his father’s signet ring with the Proffit coat of arms. I gripped his fingers, kissing them to get his assent. Did he recognise the press of my lips? Or did he assume Savanna had hidden herself before he arrived?

  Feeling bolder — with Monique kneeling beside me to watch — I slowly massaged my way up his legs, to the centre placket of his pants. While I’d always admired the trim figure Chapin Proffit presented in his fine clothes, I had to remind myself why I was going through this tricky ordeal: I wanted this man to want me. I’d had no illusions about why my family agreed to this marriage, yet I still hoped, in my heart of hearts, that it could evolve into a satisfying match.

  If it didn’t happen now, it never would.

  Chapin sat very still as I unbuttoned his fly, then slumped slightly so more of him would be hidden by the linen tablecloth. When I reached in to free his cock, I felt the pulse in his groin; the prick in my fingers shot up to its slim, solid length in seconds. If it was the blonde Savanna in his fantasy, well, she was just missing out!

  Into my mouth he went, and I felt more than heard his eager sigh. He moved slightly, rocking to establish a rhythm that would eventually take him over the edge without the senator — or his new bodyguard — noticing. But then, since Judd had already received a sampling of the service here at the Beau Monde Club, he’d probably recommend it as a safe, discreet place for them to come more often. For lunch, of course.

  Thoughts of the heavyset valet faded as I closed my eyes to concentrate. I stroked slowly up and down, pursing my lips to squeeze Chapin’s warm, corded length, circling the insistent shaft with my fingers to pump him. His downy hair rustled; a light musk enveloped me as I moved faster, driving him to a point that might make his agitation obvious to his tablemates. He deserved some of the same emotional turmoil he’d put me through! His subtle shifting told me he was getting close.

  He had no way of knowing his wife was under the table; perhaps wondered how his resourceful young ‘niece’ had gotten here, to service him by surprise. I’d find a way to tell him — would insist I’d done it on a dare, yes, but because the possibility of public exposure seemed minimal, compared to the danger I felt our marriage was in. I was tired of being ignored! I didn’t really care if these gentlemen found out I was under the table. They’d gotten their share, and they’d be envious of Chapin for having such an adventurous wife.

  Wouldn’t they?

  My husband moaned audibly. He stiffened, about to shoot.

  ‘You all right, Proffit?’ the senator asked in a low voice.

  ‘Just a — cramp in my leg, sorry,’ Chapin rasped. And then he squirted his thick, salty come, reaching beneath the tablecloth as though to massage that aching thigh, but actually to hold my head in place while he finished.

  I licked him, and then tucked his softening cock into his pants. When I was backing out from between his knees, however, he held me fast by clamping his legs together.

  ‘As we enjoy our praline cheesecake, gentlemen,’
he intoned in his newly acquired grand manner, ‘please accept my thanks once again for your guidance and generosity. Your presence means a great deal to me. I welcome any advice on how to become your next mayor!’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ someone from the other end piped up. There was a clinking of glasses, and then the eager scraping of forks across dessert plates as the chatter rose to a jovial level.

  My heart was pounding, for I assumed Chapin would now peer beneath the table to see who’d sucked him. Instead, he fumbled in his pants pocket — and damned if he didn’t shove a wad of folded money at me! I took it, patting his thigh to signal my thanks. Now I had proof I’d been the one to bring him off!

  I grinned at Monique, stuffing the bills into my shirt pocket. And as we waited, hoping the men we’d serviced would remain the souls of discretion by not lifting the tablecloth, I couldn’t help thinking how well this escapade had gone.

  Too well perhaps?

  Monique and I chattered happily to T-Jon all the way back to the house on Prytania, after making our escape through the Beau Monde’s back courtyard and adjoining alley.

  ‘And he paid you!’ my maid crowed, laughing each time she thought of it. ‘Why, I sucked four men to your two — and all I got was the thrill of being the mystery mouth under table. You’re good, Auntie Evil. Really, really good!’

  * * *

  Chapin, too, was in a buoyant mood when he returned home that evening, wearing a secretive smile only a few of us understood.

  ‘Well, my dear, the luncheon was a huge success,’ he said, reaching across the table at dinner to grasp my hand. ‘Took in more than forty thousand dollars! The men were all smiles — and by the way, I invited them to a Mardi Gras ball, a week from the coming Saturday. A party befitting the proud Proffit name, to announce your husband’s candidacy.’