Chapter 17: Kate Broussard didn’t have...

Kate Broussard didn’t have the slightest objection to having each of her dancers photographed while sucking a cock. Her only stipulation: “Don’t show the men’s faces, most of them are married.”

Unlike with the pussy shots, none of the dancers seemed particularly concerned. There hadn’t been much negative feedback when they posed naked. In fact, most of the responses were overwhelmingly positive

Peggy Mouton, mother of three boys, reflected the consensus, “Hell, the whole town knows we suck cock.”

Sabine told Ray-Ray, “Pose ‘em so they pussies show, so everybody kin see they pussies.”

“You want ‘em finger-fucking themselves?”

“Good idea — do that with about half of ‘em.”

In all there were 38 photos, counting waitresses and part-timers. Shannon Trudeau ran a front-page story in the Chronicle “Backstage at the BJ room. Go online to see every dancer at Miss Kitty’s demonstrating her special talents. And be sure to stop by Contrary Mary’s to vote on your favorite oral specialist.”

She was more explicit on Shannon Says “Kids, want to see what your favorite dancer looks like with a cock in her mouth? Check out the new bulletin board at Contrary Mary’s. Your neighbors, your teachers, your mamas are all there in full color. It’s the greatest display of cocksucking that Sausalito has ever seen.”

Sabine told Eulalie, “I had ‘em tack up them pictures down low so the young kids kin see ‘em.”

“Good girl.”

“An’ they’s stacks of photos so everyone can take they favorite girl home.”

Gwendolyn Parsons, the retired linguistics professor, texted Eulalie, “Problem.”

Eulalie sighed; this fucking sex-site gig was turning out to be more trouble than ... oh well, she’d come this far.

Two days later Eulalie was meeting with Chase’s tech wizard, Sheila Banks, in Omaha, Nebraska.

Sheila was 24, but could easily pass for a teenager. She met Eulalie at the airport and drove her to the Magnolia Hotel, “Chase likes the grand old dames, so I figured you might too.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Eulalie checked in, unpacked, and met Sheila for drinks in the downstairs bar. Sheila sported a shaved pixie cut with a subtle streak of pink. Tube top and jeans. She was a little fidgety, trying to hide her embarrassment at having been ... if not caught by Felicia Felcher, her presence had been sensed.

Sheila started with small talk, a delaying tactic that Eulalie noticed, but didn’t mind. They wouldn’t be making a move until after two in the morning. Sheila winked, “Is Chase still fucking you? I mean, you’re so past your sell-by date.”

“Once in a while when he does my makeup. But more often he just lets me blow him. How about you?”

“Oh God ... let’s see. It’s been years and years.”

The two girls visited easily; Eulalie knew enough to let Sheila arrive at the subject in her own good time, in her own way. If the project had been jeopardized, so be it. The whole LOST caper had been a long-shot from the start.

They went for a long walk, and enjoyed a leisurely dinner — Les Moules — at Dario’s Brasserie. Then Sheila got down to it.

“Okay, Gwendolyn reached out to another LOST writer, a guy who goes by the name of Thorndyke.”

“And this Felicia is also his editor. And you think she’s been somehow coercing him. But he isn’t loaded, so what’s the rationale?”

“First the pressure. I studied the correspondence between the two of them. And Gwendolyn agrees with me — Felicia is subtly forcing him to include a plot line here, introduce a specific character there.”

“Huh.”

“Thorndyke is clean, I’m sure of that. So,” Sheila lowered her voice, looked around the restaurant, “So I planted a bug in her home office. She lives in Palo Alto.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, nothing fancy, but it was state of the art. Or at least I thought it was.”

“But maybe you’re compromised now.”

“I don’t know for sure. But Chase taught me to plan for the worst.”

Eulalie nodded, “Hope for the best, but anticipate that something will go south.”

“My next door neighbor here in Omaha — Mr. Cravens — is 81. Bladder problems. And he’s nosy. But I like him, even though he’s the neighborhood busybody.”

“Okay.”

“So I’m in Michigan, meeting with Gwendolyn. This is two days ago. Two nights ago, a Tuesday. Cravens gets up to pee four or five times a night. His bedroom window faces my little bungalow. Now, Eulalie, he’s old, but he’s not dotty. Nor paranoid. At least I don’t think he is.”

“What did he see?”

“Someone — a smallish man or maybe a woman — dressed all in black, coming from the back of my house. It’s like three in the morning. And he swears the guy, if it’s a guy, was wearing some kind of goggles.”

“Night vision?”

“I figure, yeah. Anyway, I haven’t gone back to my house yet.”

“And tonight’s the night.”

“Yeah, but there’s one thing. Well, two. “If someone creeped my place, they didn’t take anything. At least according to Cravens. Which meant they might have planted a bug.”

“In retaliation for Palo Alto.”

“Yeah, the LOST gig is the only thing I’m working on that could remotely trigger something like this. So ... Cravens might be wrong, maybe nothing is amiss. Or, it could have been the second visit, not the first.”

Eulalie frowned, “Why twice?”

“The first time — if there was an earlier intrusion — could have been to plant a bug. The one I left at Felicia’s house transmits conversations and motion alerts and images in real time. The problem is that if someone sophisticated is checking ... well, it’s easier to detect.”

“Oh.”

“An alternative — which we might or might not find in my house — is a device that records everything on a SIM card. Which means that the Tuesday visit could have been either to plant something or to retrieve the SIM card.”

“Ah.”

The biggest day, the most consequential day, of CC Hebert’s life came when Slim said, “No school today, we goin’ on a boat ride.”

“Where to?”

“Never you mind.”

It was almost an hour’s ride from the City Dock down to Celine Boudreaux’s home on the southernmost border of the Cajun Bayous. CC had heard of Celine and her three sons, everyone had, so the nudity wasn’t a surprise.

But Celine’s beauty was. Tall, tan all over, slender, gorgeous. Other than Slim, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. Fuck, even her boys were sexy.

The second she stepped onto the dock, Slim stripped. CC hesitated for a moment, then joined her. The six of them — two women and four boys sat in the scorching sun, sipping ice cold morning Dixies. Celine lazily placed her legs over the arms of her chair and started playing with herself as she smiled from one boy to the other.

CC saw his mother breathing a little heavier as she surveyed Celine’s sons. Her nipples were erect — he recognized the signs of arousal. He sat there sweating in the heat as his cock throbbed to life. Neither woman seemed to notice; they were openly ogling the three Boudreaux boys.

Celine stood up and patted Slim on the shoulder. She rolled over a chaise lounge with thick cushions. CC gasped; he knew in that instant what was going to happen.

Slim lay down, licking her lips, staring at the boys. Celine played with Slim’s pussy for a few seconds, then guided a boy into her using her other hand.

CC thought his heart might explode as he watched Slim thrust her hips up and moan. He started spurting without even touching himself, but no one noticed.

He stared as the other two boys started sucking Slim’s nipples, playing with her clit. CC was mesmerized; he’d never seen anything so remotely erotic. But soon, his gaze traveled up to his mother’s face. He’d never seen her so beautiful, so grateful. She seemed to glow with rapture.

Slim was no longer remotely aware of CC, of Celine. Her entire focus, her life force, was concentrated on getting fucked. CC was throbbingly erect again, but hardly conscious of it. Celine was smiling at her boys, lazily finger-fucking herself, lost in watching the tableaux of lust.

As the first Boudreaux boy spasmed, he pulled out while he was still spurting. One of his brothers slid in a second later. Slim had let out a little whimper of disappointment, then quickly moaned in pleasure.

CC stared at her face, he couldn’t get over it. She looked almost beatific as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on the sensations coursing through her body.

As the third boy slammed into her, Slim’s face lit up in ecstasy. Eyes still closed, she whispered, “Oh yes. Yes.” CC glanced at her slender body as she thrust her hips up, but he kept returning to her face. Somehow, buried beneath all that passion, she looked like she was five or six years old.

CC vaguely understood on some primitive level that his mother had surrendered herself to the moment. Had given herself over completely. It was sex, of course it was. But so much more. CC couldn’t articulate his feelings, his sense of the occasion, but he somehow knew that the Boudreaux boys were fucking Slim Hebert, all of her, not just her pussy. She had surrendered herself, completely and totally.

As he stared at her face now consumed with ... what? Availability, joyful availability. God, this is what she wanted, needed, would have given everything for.

CC was filled with love for Slim, love that made him feel he would burst. He came again, not even aware of it.

After almost an hour, after the three boys had had their second turn, Slim gradually returned to Earth. She smiled weakly up at Celine, whispered, “Thank you,” in a raspy voice. She continued thrusting her hips up and down, but in a slower and slower rhythm.

Celine was still playing with herself, “I never saw a girl quite so needy, me.”

The two women spoke conversationally for a few minutes just as if Slim weren’t still being fucked. As two of the boys traded places yet again, Slim smiled and said “Enough.”

Celine placed her index finger on Slim’s lips, “Shh, I ain’t finished with you yet.”

Slim frowned in confusion for a moment then smiled in understanding, “You like watching your boys fuck me.”

“I do, yes ma’am I surely do.”

“I’ll need some more lube then.”

Celine pushed her son back and slathered Slim’s pussy generously, inside and out. She was gentle, taking her time. Then she lubed the boy and guided him back inside. Celine watched the action as she absentmindedly lathered her other two boys. Then she leaned back and started playing with herself languorously.

Slim lay there passively for several minutes. Then a flush crept back into her cheeks. She had recovered somewhat and was ready again. But as CC stared at her face, he realized that this was different. This was just sex, just pure fucking.

Over the next half hour or so, Slim had a couple of mild orgasms, but she was obviously just a vessel for Celine’s pleasure. When her third son shot off for the third time, Celine nodded, enough.

Celine and CC helped Slim into the shower. She smiled wanly at him, “I’m fine, a little sore, but mostly tired.”

Celine said, “You’ll spend the night here.”

“Thank you.”

After a dinner of fresh grouper — delicious, Slim yawned and smiled at her son, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I love you, Slim.”

Celine took Slim into her bed, and sent CC to sleep with her sons. Slim was already out when Celine spooned behind her, hugging her gently.

Even though he hadn’t done anything physically, CC was drained. He was too spent to even comment on the small bed for four naked boys. As he drifted off to sleep, he was amazed to see the Boudreaux boys start sucking each other.

In the morning he wondered if he had had a dream or if one of them had sucked him off. He ran the question around in his mind and decided he really didn’t care one way or the other. The image of his mother’s rapturous face during that first hour kept flooding into his brain.

Jill Moreau asked her daughter, “When you got PE? Tuesday and Thursday?”

Kimmy said, “Yeah, why?”

“Jess trying to remember. I got a parent conference next week.”

Kimmy shrugged, “Yawn.”

Slim didn’t talk with CC about her Boudreaux adventure until a couple of days had passed. It was a Sunday morning and they joined Sabine for breakfast.

She patted CC’s hand, “I never needed it so bad in my life, me.”

“It was the hottest thing I ever seen, Slim. I cum jess watching.”

She shrugged.

He said, “Slim, I couldn’t stop looking at your face ... you looked so hungry an’ ... an’ happy at the same time.” He grinned, “You could probably feel my eyes drilling in.”

She laughed, a little ruefully, “Honey lamb, I didn’t even know you was there. Celine neither.” She looked thoughtful, “An’ after a while — this sounds crazy — but I didn’t even know them Boudreaux boys was there.”

Sabine said, “Really?”

“I can’t explain it, me, but it was like ... it was like God hisself was fucking me. An’ not jess in my pussy, but like he was fucking all of me.” She paused, thinking, “Ain’t no one else there, jess me an’ God.”

Sabine looked at her with interest. Maybe she’d check out the Boudreaux boys herself. And she’d promised to bring them into town for Eulalie’s next visit.

Slim patted her son’s cheek, “The thing of it is, CC, you was supposed to fuck Celine, get your first pussy.”

“I’d rather fuck ... never mind.”

Slim and Sabine exchanged a glance, smiled.

CC said, “I ain’t sure, but I think one of them Boudreaux boys might have sucked me off when I was asleep. Or maybe it was a dream.”

Slim tilted her head, interested, “How you feel ‘bout that, CC?”

He was so earnest, “Back then, that morning, all I could think about was you. Getting fucked, the way your face looked.”

“Well you seen me at my worst. Or best. Maybe both.”

“It was the best, Slim. You so beautiful, sexy anyway. But you was like ... like a ... like a angel come down from heaven.”

Slim blushed with pleasure.

Sabine smiled, “What if one of them boys did suck you off?”

He continued gazing at his mother, “It wouldn’t have mattered none, Sabine. Long as I got to watch her face, that was the best day of my life, me.”

Slim laughed, “We raisin’ this boy wrong, Sabine. He’d rather look at his mama’s face than her pussy.”

“Well, we kin fix that, Slim, we surely kin.”

“Let’s.”

CC Hebert entered into town life more smoothly even than his mother. Sabine got him a debit card he could use against Slim’s checking account. He was good, really good with numbers, and ended up actually helping Sabine with her accounting homework.

Sabine also gave him an iPhone. He mastered the rudimentary learning curve quickly, and soon was far more proficient than either Sabine or Slim.

Sabine sent both CC and his mother the clip that Slim called ‘My cum-video.’ It showed her back in their former house masturbating to a climax. Sabine told CC, “Show that to anyone who wants to see it — students, teachers, janitors.”

CC beamed — he was so proud of Slim.

Every once in a while, Slim pulled CC out of school and took him down to the Cajun Bayous on one of her ‘taking the temperature’ tours. Once CC pulled away from the City Dock, Slim stripped down to a thong — her signature bayou look. Then Sabine told her, “Put CC in a matching thong.” Both mother and son loved the idea.

First stop was often the school where Slim huddled with Jonny LeBlank to hear the latest gossip. CC circulated among his former friends, sopping up intel from the perspective of the younger set.

These days the temperature hovered close to 100 degrees by 10, and almost none of the girls wore any kind of top. It had caused some minor chatter for a few days, but no one was shocked.

CC was the only one who watched the Babineaux twins slip out of class and go down to the dock to blow four teenage boys who had snuck away from trotline duty for a quick hummer.

Debbie and Dora carefully slid two one-dollar bills under the thick rubber bands they wore on their wrists, and quietly returned to class, each with a small smile.

Next stop was usually the Bayou Bar & Bank where Slim skipped over to Cunts Corner for a “Sabine’. Sinéad handed CC a cold Dixie and smiled understandingly as he watched one of the four waxers pamper ‘the sexiest girl in the bayous’. He was particularly proud when the early-morning customers nudged each other when Slim came up the steps.

They often walked over the rope line and stood there sipping beer and staring at Slim. The exhibitionist in her enjoyed the attention. When the pussy wax was finished, Slim usually moved her thighs apart, winked at the gawkers, and enjoyed the shampoo and massage.

Sinéad often told CC, “Your mama’s the sexiest lassie the bayou has ever seen. With that little pussy, she could make a million Irish pounds on the streets of Dublin.”

“I know, Sinéad, she’s the sexiest girl I ever seen, me.”

From there CC piloted them around and about, through the bayous to some of the remotest homes in the continental United States. They always carried a lagniappe — a jar of moonshine, cornbread, a dozen eggs, a passel of shrimp, something.