by Sahara Kelly
Cory swallowed and heard a sound behind her. Fuck it. Busted.
“Zulee?”
It was Louis, and clearly he was as surprised as she was to find the old woman making him coffee in his kitchen. Cory half turned, to see him wearing only a creased pair of cutoffs, the waistband unsnapped, and with a real nice-looking stubbled chin thing going.
Shit. Cory’s mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the coffee. She cleared her throat and turned back to Zulee. “So. You from around here?”
Zulee chuckled and poured a second mug for Louis. “You two found de magic of Love Alley, I’m guessin’.”
“Sure did, Zulee.” Louis leaned on the countertop and sipped his coffee while his eyes roamed over Cory. “She’s a wild thing, ya know.”
“Me?” Cory was outraged, embarrassed and very self-conscious. It was the first time in her life that anybody had described her as a “wild thing”. She decided she rather liked it. “You were the one who started this whole thing by falling in the tub last night…”
“Oh yeah, like you weren’t hot and waiting for me to do just that…”
“Pardon me, but you were the one with a boner hard enough to drill holes in cement…”
“Hah. And you were the one who brought those damn scented bubbles with you…just guaranteed to get a man’s thoughts where they didn’t ought to be.”
“Did not!” Cory was irate. “Those were your bath salts, you asshole.”
“Speaking of assholes…”
Cory shut her mouth with a snap.
“Bath salts, huh?” Zulee looked interested. “In a small paper packet, mebbe?”
Distracted, Cory looked at her. “Yeah. It was kinda faded and had flowers on it. Looked roses and something else perhaps. Could’ve been gardenias—I’m not sure.”
A slow smile spread over Zulee’s face. “Well, well.”
“What?” Cory drained her cup and slammed it down on the counter. “Enough with this crazy shit.”
Zulee straightened, and suddenly the room seemed brighter, colors more vivid, sounds more distinct. “It’s no shit, girl. Follow your sight. Trust in your visions. You here for a reason, chère. You got to find out what dat reason is.” She turned to Louis. “And you got to help her, boy. You hear?”
She raised a bony finger and pointed it straight at Louis, who was staring at her intensely. “I hear.” He answered quietly.
“Dem bath salts? Dey used to belong to Claudine. Her favorite. She swear up and down on de Bible dey make her horny.” Zulee’s eyes found Cory’s and their gazes locked. “You got a link wit’ her. Use it. Don’ let family down.”
She grinned and the world righted itself. “An’ if you feel like dis here man can scratch dat itch of yours, den you go right ahead an’ let him.” She headed for the door. “Dis here’s Love Alley. Seen a lot of dat good stuff. Time it saw more.”
She paused, sniffing the morning air. “Seems like dere’s some others doin’ the same thing.” Zulee chuckled. “Dat Honey’s goin’ to be sticky as her name dis’ mornin’.”
She was gone before Cory could say goodbye.
“God damn. She comes and goes like some sort of weird vision.”
“Do not.” Zulee was back, peering ‘round the door. “Forgot. Lef’ you a package, chère. Somethin’ you need. Somethin’ special for you to use. You know how.” She nodded at the counter and then was gone once more.
Louis moved to the door and peered out, looking back over his shoulder at Cory in a rather embarrassed way. “Just checking.”
“Good idea.” Cory stepped to the counter and found a small package wrapped in brown paper behind the coffeepot. Carefully, she unwrapped it, gasping as she spread the contents on the stained counter.
“Hey…I recognize that.” Louis came to stand behind her. “It’s—”
“A Tarot deck.” Cory finished for him. “The most beautiful one I’ve ever seen in my life.” She let her fingers trail over the incredibly lush ornamentation and felt a shiver in her psyche. A ripple of awareness that caught her by surprise, startling her. “Louis, these are powerful cards.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She turned and faced him. “Just who the hell is Zulee?”
Chapter Eleven
The sound of birds filled the morning air. A breeze rustled through the trees. Everything was peaceful, quiet and calm. Then it happened.
“Oh fuck, Maurice, I’m going to come again, oh shit, oh shit…”
Honey’s voice was loud, loud enough to blare out of the bedroom window.
Maurice dripped with sweat and breathed hard. His hands groped at Honey’s back as the loud slap, slap, slap of their bodies meeting echoed in the room. “Fuck, Alice, you are so damn hot. Shit—you’re gonna make me bust a nut again.” He sucked in air through his teeth, trying to hold back his orgasm.
The red marks on her skin were reminders of his hands holding on for dear life as they fucked through the night. Nothing was sacred, no positions not tried.
Honey’s body began to shake as she convulsed with her climax. Her mouth opened wide and her eyes closed tight as the wave of pleasure washed through her. She clearly didn’t care how she looked, she just languished in the passion of the moment.
With a loud grunt and a final driving thrust, Maurice erupted into her dripping sheath. His seed spurted deep within the cavern of her lust. She oozed the mixture of their sex and it trickled along the soft surface of her inner thigh. She sure was fulfilled. His burning cock was a wonderful ache resulting from overuse.
Maurice had told her they were going to fuck. So that’s what they did. They fucked until they were content, then they fucked some more.
“Well, I’m going to take a shower and get to work.” Maurice scratched his ass while walking toward the bathroom.
Honey lay on her side, watching him, not knowing quite what to say. Finally, she figured she didn’t need to say anything. She’d wanted a man for quite a while and Maurice was all man, who just happened to come with no strings attached. Even though she never trusted a man who said he was safe when it came to sex, something about Maurice was different. The way he looked at her. The way he treated her. He saw inside her, past her obvious assets and through into her heart. It felt right with him and when he assured her he’d been checked out as clean quite recently, she believed him. Just as he’d believed her.
It might end up as one of the stupidest and most naïve things she’d done in her entire life, but something was telling her that wouldn’t happen. That this moment with this man was out of the ordinary, something special. For both of them.
There were no pregnancy worries thanks to her birth control shot, so her thoughts tumbled over the only question still unanswered—what happened next. She didn’t know what to expect from him. His behavior bordered on cruel at times and he could have seemed quite an asshole to some women. But not to Honey.
From the bed she could see him through the tinted shower glass. She remembered all the rough edges of his large frame. How he’d held her, grabbed at her body and used her for all his sexual needs. They’d ended up using each other. Honey had used him to make her feel more like a real woman, not a token wife, girlfriend or random mistress. And he’d sure made her feel like a woman. A very well-lubed and stretched-open woman.
Before she dozed off to sleep, Maurice came out of the shower. He was naked and unashamedly dangling his assets in front of her. “Hey Alice, I almost forgot. Here’s some money.”
He stepped into his underwear by the bed as Honey blinked at the bills. “What’s this for?”
“Buy something sexy for tonight. Maybe one of those little leather outfits.”
“Maurice I don’t need your money.” Honey wasn’t sure whether to be mad or not. Nobody’d ever given her money to get something for herself.
“So? You’re buying it for me. I’m going to be the one seeing you in it. Surprise me. Tonight.” He pulled his huge boots on and combed his wet hair back
with his fingers.
“So you’re just going to leave? No breakfast or anything?”
“I had my fill of eating pussy and sucking titties last night. I’ll grab something on the way. Now get into the shower, Alice, you smell like me.” With a firm smack on her ass he walked out of the room. Honey heard him close the front door behind him.
She felt a slight pain in her abdomen and cut loose a gasser. Fuck. No dog to blame it on. One of the drawbacks to indulging in anal sex raised its stinky head.
Honey decided Maurice was right. She did need a shower.
*~~*~~*
Louis stared at Cory as she stared back at him, all dark hair and soft brown skin. She’d asked him something, but the sun had slanted through the window seconds later and danced over her face, distracting him completely.
“Huh?”
She sighed. “I asked who Zulee is?”
“I don’t know. She showed up one day, scared the shit out of me. She seems nice enough.”
“She is more than she seems.” Cory’s eyes turned vague in that unique way she had. Louis watched, fascinated, as she examined things he could not see. “She has—”
“What? Like a wooden leg or something?” He wanted to hear her speak in that soft lilting accent and watch her lips move as they formed the words. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about this weird shit, but he did give a rat’s ass, and the whole rest of the rat, for this incredible woman who’d rocked his world to its foundations last night.
He had never had sex like that before. Ever. Never felt the need to damn near devour a woman like a starved animal, never come twice like that and once in her ass, for Chrissake—it had been unique, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say they’d both been under some sort of spell.
But of course, he didn’t believe in any of that shit. Not at all. No sir. Not him. He was far too practical to give any credence to psychic mumbo-jumbo.
Louis breathed in and shuddered as that particularly sensual fragrance swamped his nostrils once more. “Damn, woman. You still smell fabulous. What was in your bath stuff, anyway?”
“My bath stuff?” She gaped at him. “It was your bath stuff.”
He snorted. “Was not. Do I look like the kind of guy who’d soak in bubbles?”
“It was sitting on top of your towels. I don’t go visiting with bath salts in my bag.” She looked skeptical. “Hey, I don’t care if you go for that sort of thing. Not my business.”
“I don’t.” He knew he was whining. “I do not go for that sort of thing. Those were not my bath salts. Most definitely not. Never seen ‘em before in my life.”
“Then who—” Cory paused. “Ah shit. This house is playing tricks, isn’t it?”
Louis chuckled and poured himself more of Zulee’s rich brew. “Look, call it whatever you want. All I know is that last night was a helluva ride. And when it comes to tricks…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and sipped from his mug.
Cory put her own cup down with a thud. “I’m outta here.”
“No, wait. I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” Louis scrambled to undo the damage he’d done with his flip comment.
“Yes it did.” She gathered her things together. “You’ve got yourself one very haunted house, Mr. Beekman. I hope you enjoy it. And those who share it with you.” She spun on her heel and headed for the door.
Louis jumped up after her. “Hey. Hold on. I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to be rude.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what got into me last night, but whatever it was, I don’t regret a minute of it.” He grabbed her arm and held her, making her stop at the threshold. “Don’t leave like this, Cory. Please. I need…”
She refused to look at him. “You need what? Certainly not a good fuck. You had that last night.”
It was Louis’s turn to be offended. “Now just a minute. I wasn’t alone in that bathroom. And I didn’t do anything you didn’t want me to.”
Cory’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. We both got—carried away there.” She turned at last. “For the record, I don’t do that shit with people I just met.”
Her eyes were troubled as she stared at him. “I don’t know why I did what I did last night. And I agree, we didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
Louis relaxed his grip. “So…er…you coming back?”
“For round two?” Her eyebrows lifted but a slight smile robbed her words of their sting.
“Cory, after last night I don’t know what we could do that would qualify as round two.” He had to laugh. “That was the hottest time I’ve ever spent with a woman in my entire life.”
The house seemed to shimmer around them for an instant, and they both blinked as soft laughter threaded through the deserted rooms.
“Did you hear that?” Cory whispered.
“Yeah.” Louis swallowed. “Yeah, I heard it. Same as I get the feeling somebody’s watching me now and again. That itchy feeling on the back of my neck, you know?”
She nodded. “Yes. I know.” She pulled free of his arm. “Put those Tarot cards away someplace safe. I’ll come back. I don’t think I have any choice.”
“Tonight? This afternoon? When?” He didn’t want to let her go. Didn’t want to not feel her skin beneath his hands. Didn’t want to miss a second of the expressions that crossed her face in a parade of delight. She was beautiful in a way he couldn’t explain, and he wanted to examine this whole thing in minute detail. Preferably when they were both naked.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you.”
“You can’t. My frickin’ cell phone’s died and the battery charger’s in never-never land somewhere.” Louis shook his head. “Just come back, okay? I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He stood on the porch until he couldn’t see her anymore then turned and went back inside to a house that now seemed oddly empty. He had chores and jobs to do, and they’d fill the time until she returned.
With a sigh he cleared away the coffee cups and decided to properly repair the bathroom window. If he could, of course. His toolbox was back where it seemed to think it belonged—on the front porch.
Louis rolled his eyes. “Look, I want to work and you’re not making it easy for me. So quit fucking with my tools, okay?” He yelled and pointed at empty air and knew he must have looked like a complete idiot. But it made him feel better.
Or at least as good as he could feel without Cory beside him. Or beneath him. Or in front of him.
Another growing erection tingled inside his shorts, and Louis clenched his teeth. It was gonna be a helluva long day until she came back.
*~~*~~*
[You are coming back, chère, aren’t you?]
The voice echoed in Cory’s brain as she carefully drove around some leftover puddles on the road home.
[Please, chère. It’s important.]
“Why?” She spoke aloud, answering the voice in the only way she knew how. “Tell me why? Who are you? Are you Claudine?”
[I cannot sleep apart from my love. Find my love, chère. I want to sleep now. With him. Forever.]
Cory swerved, trying to focus on her driving and keep the soft voice in the back of her mind. “I don’t understand. Help me.”
[You help me. C’est tu, chère. Seulement tu…]
The voice drifted away leaving Cory bereft and parked alongside a levee. “Only me, huh?” She’d translated the French easily, having grown up in that pidgin-language environment where French is blended musically into English and mixed with a N’Awlins drawl.
The problem with this whole being-psychic thing, decided Cory as she pulled back onto the road, was that ghosts were frickin’ cryptic critters at the best of times. Never came right out and said what they meant.
She wished, just for once, that a spirit would tap her on the shoulder, point to a painting and say, “Excuse me, my secret will is taped behind that frame. Take the two pieces of backing paper off and there it is.”
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Or perhaps a visitation along the lines of, “I’d appreciate you filing suit against the Louisiana state highway department and stop them from excavating the spot where I happen to be interred.”
That would work too. Something solid she could actually do, rather than vague and insubstantial messages that probably meant something, but nothing that was immediately apparent.
Cory’s gift had bestowed upon her the ability to hear and occasionally communicate with lost souls. If they chose to communicate with her, that is. Actually, she’d had very little ghostly interaction—her strength lay in the area of psychic sensibility rather than spiritual contact. She could tell when somebody was worried, or sick, and now and again when somebody was lying.
She could see into the past at times, but never into the future. She could “sense” things about people and sometimes the things she sensed were from souls surrounding those people. Families who had one or two matters to settle before moving on to the next plane of existence.
Cory knew, without a doubt, that Love Alley was inhabited by denizens of the “otherworld”. She could feel them, sense them on several levels, and this morning both she and Louis had heard them laugh.
She was apparently in routine contact with somebody—maybe Claudine Lavalieres herself—and that voice came through urgent and clear. When it frickin’ chose to.
Cory sighed and found a parking space near her apartment. She knew exactly how this day was gonna turn out, for once having complete and utter faith in her ability to predict the next few hours.
She was going to go shower, throw a few things in a bag, grab more coffee, call Eileen and then get back in her car.
She was most definitely going back to Love Alley in an attempt to find out what the fuck was going on out there.
And she was most definitely going back to Mr. Deee-licious Louis Beekman. He’d said it was a night like no other for him. Well, hoo-rah. Because it had been a night like no other for her as well. And, okay yeah. She admitted it. She’d like another one, please.
Ghosts or no ghosts, Louis was real. And damn it, he was the best lover Cory had ever had.