Chapter 10: Denise Decided...

Denise decided that it was a healthy sign, odd but healthy, that she had completely forgotten she’d given Danny Boy a ride to Miss Kitty’s. She didn’t remember until she pulled up in front of her house. Oh well, he’d walked home from downtown before.

Mainly, she’d been lost in a sweet reverie. She remembered the thunderous applause when Gigi gave her a final climax and helped her to her feet. She remembered grinning and grinning and grinning as they made their way through the still-cheering crowd to the dressing room. She was still turned on, and her body felt like it was glowing.

She’d even spotted Danny Boy. And was so pleased with her morning that she just winked at him. Not a single twinge of embarrassment on her part. And he had a look of pure adoration on his face.

After the shower where she and Gigi had soaped and rinsed each other, Kate and Evelyn dropped in to congratulate them on the performance. Kate even slapped her on the butt, “You’re working Friday night, girl.”

Back at her house, it was close to noon when Danny Boy came strolling in, a huge grin on his face. He nodded toward the couch, “Denise.” Eager to talk things over.

“I’m famished, honey. Contrary Mary’s. This instant.”

He mock saluted, “Yes ma’am!”

She was still buzzing a little when she slid into the last booth on the left. Wooden backs, red, cracked leather seats, the smell of fried food and beer. Just right.

To her surprise Danny boy scooted in beside her. Well, why not? She didn’t even object when he ordered a Dixie right along with her.

“Denise, I...”

She held up her hand, took a long slug of beer, “Feed me first. Then talk.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They scarfed their double cheeseburgers and twice-fried shoestring potatoes. Had a second round of beers. They were hip to hip and she nudged his right leg with her left, “Let’s have it.”

“Denise, I was ... you were ... I mean ... I never...”

She laughed, delighted at his inability to articulate his feelings. “Whoa there, cowboy, slow down.” Still riding an emotional high, she whispered into his ear, “Did you cum?”

So earnest, “Three times. An’ I got hard again when you walked by. You know, at the end?”

“Yes, I vaguely remember.”

“Denise, I never seen anything like it. In porn or with Harry and Jolene. You ... you ... you were, I mean you are ... oh, fuck, I don’ know how to say it.”

Denise didn’t try to hide her pleasure. At her performance, at his reaction. “I was kinda hot there, wasn’t I?”

“Kinda! Mama, you, I mean Denise, you were the sexiest thing I ever seen, me.” He was babbling; she let him, “I didn’t know you could cum that much, I didn’t know anyone could.”

“Well.”

“Everyone went wild, not jess me! You shoulda seen all that cum flying around.”

She blushed with pleasure, “Shh, not so loud.”

Danny Boy palmed her cheek and gently turned her head to face him, “I was so fucking proud of you ... I don’ even have the words, me.”

Impulsively, she pecked him on the lips, “I’m proud of you too, Mr. Horse Cock, really proud.”

They felt like they were in a bubble, the only two people in the room.

“Denise, I love you. So much.”

“Right back atcha, kiddo.”

“Is Kate gonna let you dance again? She better.”

Denise beamed, “Friday night.”

“Kin I come, kin you get me in?”

She smiled indulgently, “Oh, I don’ know about that, hon. I’ll ask, but it’d be up to her.”

Neither of them mentioned the Blowjob Room. That was just a given.

He sat up straight, suddenly remembering. “Kate, she had Ray-Ray send me these.” He scrolled through his photos; reverently handed her his cell. Denise looked, and was startled, but pleased at the same time. The picture was taken early in the set and showed her standing on the stage, nude, smiling brightly, looking good, looking sexy. It was a flattering shot, no question.

Danny Boy looked around the room, lowered his voice, “Look at the next one.”

Denise blushed, “Oh.” It showed Gigi with a finger in her pussy, Denise clearly in the middle of an orgasm. Her heart fluttered as she realized she liked this shot too. Damn, she did look good. She felt a moistness between her legs; she was getting turned on again.

“One more.”

“Oh my.” Gigi’s head was buried between her thighs. Denise’s face was contorted as she orgasmed. But her expression was joyous, triumphant. Her body was rigid, her nipples erect, her cheeks and chest flushed, her hands tangled in Gigi’s hair.

But it was her face — beautiful and engaged and almost childlike — that drew the eye. Denise whispered, either to herself or to Danny Boy, “This is the best one.”

His voice was low and throaty, “Denise, I’m about to cum.”

She playfully bumped her head against his shoulder, “Aw, baby. Try to wait til we get home.” She smiled at the raw hunger in his eyes. She put her lips against his ear, “I could cum again, me.” She darted her tongue out for a second, “But let’s wait until we get home.”

As they left, holding hands, Darlene grinned at Denise, “I heard you were smoking hot this morning.”

Danny Boy squeezed her hand; she squeezed back. And smiled at Darlene, “Well, Gigi did get me going.”

Danny Boy beamed, so proud.

The families in the Cajun Bayous were economically poor, but culturally wealthy. Their music, food, joie de vivre. As the only commercial establishment, the Bayou Bar and Bank served as a community center.

Drinks, sure. Dominoes and bourré. Gossip and laughter and WZYD playing 24/7. Sinéad Donahue would dispense refreshments, offer advice when asked, and provide small cash loans when needed.

But there was also an ethos, a common sense of duty, of doing the right thing for your neighbors. One practical embodiment became known as the Bayou Box. The first incident anyone could remember was when Elena Thibault needed a rebuilt engine for her Jon boat. Sinéad placed an old cigar box on the bar and hand-lettered a simple sign: ENGINE FOR ELENA THIBAULT.

Sinéad never asked anyone to contribute, never even mentioned the Bayou Box. It took a couple of weeks but the coins and wrinkled one-dollar bills added up.

Jasmine Doucet, who was comparatively wealthy because she danced at Miss Kitty’s a couple of days a week, could easily have given Sabine Babineaux money for rubbers, and for other necessities as well. But she knew Sabine was too proud.

So the next Bayou Box sign read: RUBBERS FOR Magnolia Babineaux.

That evening, Jasmine drove over to the little Babineaux house to tell Sabine about the collection box. She was surprised to see just three of them at home — Sabine and Hawk and Magnolia. They were nude, no wonder in that sweltering heat. Obviously Sabine saw no further need for the mother to keep her pussy covered up around Hawk.

Jasmine said, “Where are the others?”

Sabine said, “I sent the twins over to live with Mr. Romero. ‘Til I get Mama sorted.”

Magnolia looked down at the floor.

Jasmine said, “Well, he can use the help with that fractured arm.” She pictured the little shack, “Where will everyone sleep?”

Sabine shrugged, not her concern.

“Where’s Hank?”

“I sent him to live with Celine Boudreaux.”

Magnolia, blushing, felt a maternal need to explain, “He’ll learn to work on her fishing boat, Hank. Become a good boat-hand, him.”

Sabine spoke dryly, “Mama, he’ll learn to suck cock, that’s what Hank will learn. Celine and them three boys ... well, that’s what he’ll learn. Don’ you try to make it out any different.” She wasn’t upset, more amused than anything.

“Sorry, Sabine.”

Magnolia was a little embarrassed, but as Jasmine studied her, she saw that the woman was also in heat. She was sprawled on the little sweat-stained sofa, flushed down to her chest, her nipples were erect, she was unconsciously opening and closing her thighs.

Jasmine looked over at Hawk. As usual, the 15-year old was gazing at his mother fondly as he sat at the kitchen table, his erection throbbing gently.

Sabine sat behind her brother, casually evaluating the scene. Jasmine had obviously walked in on the middle of something.

Magnolia, opening and closing her thighs, licked her lips, focused on Hawk. The boy was unconcerned with the scrutiny from his mother, his sister, and Jasmine. He just leaned back regarding Magnolia placidly.

Magnolia glanced at Sabine from time to time, trying to read her daughter’s expression, trying to decipher what the little girl was thinking. Magnolia absently twirled one nipple, then the other. Her right hand trailed down her tummy, toward the juncture. She looked at Sabine again.

Sabine gave her a small, understanding smile, “Okay, Mama, but be quick, we got company.”

Magnolia whispered, “Thank you,” and brought her heels up to her butt. Staring directly at Hawk, she began diddling herself, oblivious to Jasmine’s presence.

Jasmine understood intuitively and instantly that this wasn’t Magnolia’s first performance. She flushed even deeper and climaxed, raising her hip and moaning, “Oh God, Hawk, oh God.”

Jasmine immediately put into words a thought that had been swimming in her subconscious: Sabine is now the mother; Magnolia is the child.

Hawk spoke softly, “Sabine?”

She nodded at him, smiled understandingly. He stood, walked over to his mother, smiled fondly. She lunged forward, sucking him greedily into her mouth, groaning with pure pleasure.

Jasmine and Sabine watched placidly as Hawk placed his palms gently on Magnolia’s cheeks and pumped his hips, spurting into her mouth. They continued watching as Magnolia used both hands to squeeze out the last couple of drops, licking him clean.

Hawk turned and smiled, “Thank you, Sabine.”

Magnolia nodded eagerly, “Yeah, thank you so much, baby.”

Sabine turned to Jasmine, “Stay for supper? We’re jess having cold chicken soup.”

“Thank you, I will.”

An announcer came on WZYD and spoke in Cajun French, “The temperature is 40 degrees centigrade and will be hotter tomorrow.”

The four of them automatically translated: 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Jasmine muttered, “Fuck it,” and pulled off her sopping tee. Hawk looked at her with interest, but just for a moment. He shifted his gaze back to Magnolia.

As Sabine set the table, Magnolia spoke conversationally, “I never cum so fast in my life, me.” She added, “Hawk,” to further explain.

Jasmine nodded pleasantly.

“He done got my number, him.”

Sabine sighed, “Mama.”

Magnolia was on a roll, “He jess gotta look at me, that certain way? But when she let him touch me? OOOEY!”

Jasmine looked at the little girl, “You gonna let your sisters and Hank move back in?’

Shrug, “I ain’t decided, me. I kinda like the peace and quiet.” Another shrug, “I gotta wait ‘til I get Hawk and Mama sorted out.”

Jasmine said, “Hon, I started a Bayou Box for your mama. For buyin’ rubbers. If you decide to let ‘em start fucking.”

Magnolia gasped, “Oh, Jasmine, that is so sweet!”

Sabine looked thoughtful; she saw beyond the obvious. She looked evenly at Jasmine, “You want everyone to know, don’ you? ‘Bout Mama and Hawk?”

“Chère, everyone is gonna find out, you know that. Wouldn’t it be better for us to let them know ourselves?”

Sabine continued to look into Jasmine’s eyes, “You want folks to know even before I tell her she can fuck him?”

Magnolia washed the back-and-forth, not in the least concerned that everyone would know. Hawk was his usual equanimous self, serenely watching his little sister, curious about how she would react to the Bayou Box news.

Jasmine shrugged, “Up to you, Sabine.”

The little girl shifted her gaze from Jasmine to her mother, to Hawk, back to her mother. Sighed. “Okay, Mama, I’ll go buy some rubbers tomorrow.”

Magnolia sensed, somehow knew better, than to squeal with delight. She just hugged herself and swiveled back and forth like a little girl on her birthday.

Sabine looked evenly at Hawk, “You sleep in your own bed tonight.”

He held up a palm, like taking a pledge, “Yes ma’am. I promise you, yes ma’am.”

Sabine glanced one more time at her mother, then got up and started pouring soup into four bowls.

LuLu Sheets took her time composing the three fan letters to the LOST authors. The online letters she would send to Carl Moonbeam, Mickey Luck, and G Older. She was careful not to gush — they probably had plenty of admirers in the LOST community. And, she wrote individual letters to each of them in case they compared notes.

She called out a striking sentence, a key word, a particularly telling paragraph. She cited specifics, aiming to appeal to their writerly egos; not to gush like a fangirl.

LuLu referenced an elegant plot twist, an unexpected character trait that led to a creative growth for a protagonist. She admired a good ‘bad guy’ — so central to a well-crafted story.

G Older was the first to respond, but it was merely a perfunctory thank-you-for-writing note. Fine; she’d come up with a different approach to draw him into her web. To turn site-specific notes into Facebook connections, into FaceTime calls. Perhaps into a RL meeting.

Saturday had been a watershed day for Denise. The performance at Miss Kitty’s of course. The giggly lunch at Contrary Mary’s with Danny Boy gushing and raving. And, an afterglow that was partly physical — her motor was still humming — and partly her mind replaying the scene with Gigi and her.

Then, about four in the afternoon, Ray-Ray knocked on the front door. The first time he’d been by her house. She welcomed him, served ice tea to him and Danny Boy, and started to excuse herself so they could talk about whatever it was teenage boys discussed in private. In this case, she had a pretty good idea that a certain Denise Aubert would be the focus.

Both had seen Gigi and her that morning; Ray-Ray had taken those photographs that were so flattering. She not only wasn’t embarrassed to be the the subject of their conversation, she was proud.

But Ray-Ray held up his palm, “Mrs. Aubert, Kate wanted me to show you guys the video. I just finished editing it.”

“Um, okay. I guess. Here? Now?”

“Yes ma’am. We can watch it on your flatscreen.”

“The TV?” Stop babbling, Denise. She looked at the two eager boys, and her tummy fluttered a little.

Ray-Ray deftly did some digital magic and the screen popped alive with Denise front and center. Gigi had undressed her; and the boys in the background were slightly out of focus. The spotlight was directly on a smiling, naked, sexy Denise.

Ray-Ray said, “Before I start it, Kate said to tell you that I built a website so you can let your friends see it.”

Denise was still staring at her image. “Uh, what? Who would I show it to?”

Ray-Ray shrugged, “Whoever you and Danny Boy want to see it. It’s only a minute and 12 seconds long.”

“Well.” Denise backed into the sofa and sat down between the boys.

If there was a title, it would have been, “Watch Denise Aubert Cum”.

The video was a smoothy edited series of brief vignettes — Gigi finger-fucking her to one climax after another. The finale was, of course, Gigi licking Denise. About 30 seconds of what looked like an continuous orgasm. Lite the photo Danny Boy had shown her, Denise looked ecstatic and lustful and beautiful; her face like a delighted little girl. The constant roar from the crowd was like background music.

She whispered, ‘Kin you run it again?’

The three of them watched the tape on an loop, staring up at the screen like they were hypnotized. Denise was wet; she was vaguely aware that the boys were rubbing themselves.

Then Danny Boy said, “Mama, uh, Denise, could you ... could we ... privacy?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Sorry. Of course.” She fluttered around, pulled out a box of tissues, thrust them at her son, “Here ... for ... you know.”

As she was walking back to her bedroom, Ray-Ray said, “I sent a copy to your cell.”

“Oh God, thank you Ray-Ray. So much.”

She was on fire. She came the second she touched herself. She loved how she looked, she loved her face when she climaxed; she couldn’t stop watching herself.

Had she given a thought to the two boys out there beating off to her, it would have simply added to her pleasure.

Down in the Cajun Bayous, the insular, isolated bayous, the one Catholic Church had gone out of business more than 40 years earlier. There were no doctors, although many of the women had learned to patch and mend almost as well as some registered nurses. Certainly no attorneys lived down there — the Cajuns settled their differences among themselves.

Family ties were strong even though no one bothered with getting a marriage license. Couples did split occasionally — usually when a woman kicked a man out. The children invariably stayed with their mother.

Sabine Babineaux decided to get ahead of the gossip — she was going to let Hawk fuck his mother. Their mother. Unusual, but not unheard of; few sexual practices were unheard of in the Cajun Bayous.

Sabine enlisted her mother’s friend, Jasmine Doucet, to arrange a party in the Bayou Bar and Bank. A gathering to announce the ... partnership between Magnolia and Hawk Babineaux. Nothing formal, no ceremony, no speeches — just a sort of coming-out party.

Jasmine would pay Sinéad for all the beer and soft drinks — a wedding present. As it turned out, almost everyone, including young kids, chose beer. Free beer.

Sabine said, “I’ll pay you back, Jasmine.”

“I know you will, hon.”

Sinéad filled a huge galvanized tub with ice. She placed over a hundred cans of Dixie in it, knowing she’d be on refill duty more than once. Overall, it would be the biggest day in the Bayou Bar’s history — over $400 in beer sales.

WZYD ran in the background, playing an unending loop of Cajun music. Everyone, every single person was barefoot. Several danced throughout the afternoon — usually women and girls with each other.