Chapter 26: The most coveted title...

The most coveted title in town was, hands down, Miss Sausalito. In a way, it was a retro contest, reminiscent of bathing-beauty pageants of 70 years ago.

In Sausalito there were no talent divisions, no philosophical questions, no end-world-hunger essays. No formal ball gowns.

No, Miss Sausalito was judged solely on her appearance, on her sexiness, on her answers to deeply personal, often raunchy, questions.

The annual contest dated back at least to the early 1900s; and even back then the contestants wore only swimwear. It had always been blatantly sexist, even before Marie Guidry, and then Eulalie. began turning it naughtier and naughtier.

And, younger and younger. The current minimum age to qualify was 14, but there was considerable maternal lobbying to lower the age to 10. Eulalie was on the brink, but hadn’t yet pulled the trigger. This year’s contestants were comprised of six 14-year-old girls and one 15-year-old.

Another ‘Miss Sausalito’ anomaly was that each entrant was chosen by invitation only. The mother of a pretty girl couldn’t simply fill out an application — her daughter had to have been preselected, interviewed in private, and then invited. In the private interview, conducted by the mayor, each girl was nude — judged both for her physical appeal and her personality under pressure.

Other than with the religious cranks, the Miss Sausalito pageant was wildly popular. And why wouldn’t it be? A handful of young nymphets, wearing only a thong and the briefest of tops, would be paraded on the Sausalito High School auditorium stage in front of a packed house.

Each would be almost naked, barely covered, And, ever so proud of it. What about the feminist uprising? The equality movement? The Me-Too social revolution?

‘Miss Sausalito’, for historic reasons, for tradition, for mass popularity, had been given a town-wide exemption. Mothers, grandmothers, great-great grandmothers had competed. It was baked into the town’s psyche. Woven into the laissez-faire civic fabric.

‘Miss Sausalito’ was a day of celebration. Celebration of the beauty of the female form, celebration of pulchritude, of sexuality itself. It was open, blatant, erotic, sensual, provocative, and oh-so-alluring. It was carnality personified. Barely covered teenage flesh in the spotlight — succulent, luscious, inviting.

In addition to the public adulation that the winner received, there was a very practical bonus. Kate Broussard awarded $500 to the lucky girl.

But even more significant, especially to the stage mothers, was the fact that the winner would be allowed to dance at Miss Kitty’s every night for a full week.

As Shannon Trudeau announced on Shannon Says “Okay, boys, this is your chance to have Miss Sausalito — Cindy Benoit herself — suck you off. That’s right, Cindy will be staring in the Blowjob Room at Miss Kitty’s tonight and every night through Sunday. And I hardly need to mention that Cindy swallows. As she told us on stage at the pageant, “I been swallowing cum since the very first time I took a cock in my mouth.”

The fact that Cindy Benoit was 14 might have caused a ripple of concern through the community, but she was Miss Sausalito. And Miss Sausalito had been performing at Miss Kitty’s for the past ten years. Baked in. Settled law. It was not only an accepted fact, it now just seemed natural, felt right. It wasn’t so much a young teenager up there on the stage, it was Miss Sausalito — a representative of the town, an emblem, a symbol of civic pride.

Now, if Kate started hiring young teenagers on a regular basis ... well, that might be a concern. But Miss Sausalito was different. The crown was prestigious — a real honor. And dancing at Miss Kitty’s was simply one of the well-deserved perks that went with the title.

The contest itself was held on a Saturday morning each year. It was so popular that admittance had to be limited to town residents. There was an area-wide awareness of the event. And the more that the out-of-town feminist critics lambasted the pageant, the more viewers it attracted.

For the past two years, Ray-Ray Fontenot had captured the contest on video. He edited it to highlight the most salacious parts, and posted it on the Miss Kitty website. ‘Miss Sausalito’ drew tens of thousands of hits, and this year Kate Broussard had Ray-Ray secure it behind a paywall.

The fact that the online proceeds would be donated to homes for unwed mothers silenced most of the complaints. Besides, she was charging only one dollar for a full week’s access.

In a way the entire operation was a male teenager’s fantasy come to life. But it was now such an accepted, perhaps even cherished, tradition that if it were it on a ballot, over 90% of Sausalito citizens would vote to continue the festivities.

The past two years saw another benefit for the little girls who so eagerly took part. In addition to the winner performing at Miss Kitty’s, all of the girls were offered a position waitressing at Contrary Mary’s.

As the manager, 15-year-old Darlene Pellerin, told Eulalie, “Our business spikes 10, maybe 15 percent, when I parade those little sluts around.” Darlene was talking on more responsibilities at Mary’s, and Eulalie had her eye on her.

In an only-in-Sausalito sidebar, there were the aggressive pleadings of mothers of would-be entrants. The mothers of preteen strumpets were often the most vociferous in lobbying Eulalie, Kate, and Darlene to lower the age to at least 10.

Corrine Chalamet, the mother of 11-year-old, Bessie, was typical. “Eulalie, jess look at Bessie — that there is one sweet piece of ass.”

“No argument from me, Corrine, none at all. I am thinking about it, I’ll tell you. that.”

“So what’s the holdup? You should see her in a thong.”

Eulalie was indeed tempted. With many of these assertive, competitive mothers being so openly willing to showcase their daughters ... well, it was tempting to open the floodgates.

In addition, Darlene was eager to hire a few of them at Contrary Mary’s. “Eulalie, I put them in a little thong, they don’t need a top. Think of it.”

“You have anyone specific in mind, hon?”

Darlene grinned, she knew Eulalie would love this, “I already got Marjorie Moulin on video — Ray-Ray filmed her.”

“Remind me.”

“She’s married to Roger Moulin, works the sugar mill. She got herself five daughters. Oldest one is okay. The middle three are ... um, pretty free with their favors. She put ‘em on the Pill early on.”

“And her youngest?”

“Missy, she’s a 12-year-old sexpot. Already following her older sisters. Marjorie come to me, says with Missy going the direction she is, she might as well make some money off of her.”

“And she stated that on-camera?”

“Yes ma’am. She spelled out all the things Missy is already getting up to. And what she’d be willing to do if I hired her. Happy to do.”

“Tell you what, Darlene. Work that angle for a while. I’m not ready to green-light it yet, but get Ray-Ray to shoot some more moms. And send me pictures of the girls.”

“Nudes?”

“No, not yet. But you know what Chase likes.”

“Yes ma’am, I am all over it.”

“And make sure each mommy spells out exactly what her little precious is willing to do.”

From a third angle, Eulalie was cautiously, very cautiously, lowering the age restrictions for dancing at Miss Kitty’s. She’d used Sabine Babineaux’s stage debut to introduce the girl to the town.

And, Miss Sausalito had danced there every year for the past ten. But that seemed to be a town-wide exception to the rule. The opportunity simply went with the crown. It was one of the accepted perks. Now Eulalie was seriously considering having Kate start letting some of her teenage Sunday morning dancers sneak in a late-show performance every once in a while.

Preteen dancers? There would certainly be an audience for them. And word-of-mouth publicity. If she allowed it, even on an experimental basis, she’d have to have Rémy and his team limit admittance to known Sausalito residents. Kate could lose her liquor and cabaret licenses if someone from Jackson happened to be in the audience and reported it.

For now anyway, Miss Sausalito would be at least 14. Eulalie hadn’t been able to attend this year’s pageant, but she and Chase watched Ray-Ray’s live stream. It wasn’t open to the public, just Eulalie.

Seven girls, seven barely-there costumes. Most of the outfits came from the same tailor, as had been the practice for years and years. The skimpy thongs and tops were custom-made to fit each of the girls. And all of them, stage-mothers included, had the same goal — use the least amount of material possible to cover the pussy-slit and nipples.

Samuel Poirot was in his 60s, gnarled and crotchety. He also had one sexual quirk. Samuel liked older women, the older the better. If he enjoyed measuring and fitting the naked little strumpets, he didn’t much show it

It was well known in town that, if you took your daughter to Poirot’s Haberdashery for a Miss Sausalito fitting, a blowjob would be involved.

Samuel would accept one from the girl’s mother, but much preferred the grandmother or, better still, the great-grandmother.

Like with Jonny LeBlank who taught in the one-room schoolhouse in the Cajun Bayous and got a daily blowjob from a mother or a student, the town accepted Samuel’s kinky requirements with a shrug.

Now, were all those appointments and alterations really necessary to arrive at the final thong-and-top version? Maybe, maybe not. But there wasn’t a stage-mom in town who balked at blowing him as many times as it took to showcase her luscious daughter.

The hummers — each administered while the teenager was naked, and performed the nude by an older female relative — no longer caused much discussion even in the schools. It was now just part of life in Sausalito — like the BJ room, like fresh fish at the Farmer’s Market, like ... well, like brushing your teeth.

This year — and this did generate some considerable chatter — the oldest contestant, 15-year-old Misty Cartier, didn’t go to Poirot’s for her costume. Not because her mother had any blowjob aversion — no, Elaine Cartier simply wanted to break the mold. To experiment. To outfit Misty in a new type of costume.

It was a daring move, one that might well have paid off. She found a seamstress who outfitted some of the Bourbon Street strippers in New Orleans and commissioned a sexy little number for her daughter.

The three-piece ensemble used spirit gum to adhere to the pelvic and nipple areas. The white pussy-rectangle was one and a half inches long, three-quarters of an inch wide. The two white stars covered Misty’s nipples and left the rest of her bouncy little boobs bare.

The Saturday morning crowd roared its approval as Misty Cartier strutted onto the auditorium stage. The spotlight stayed on her as she reached her mark and did a slow pirouette.

But there was one flaw to the strategy that would emerge when the judging began.

The journey for the eventual winner — Cindy Benoit — began with that first visit to Poirot’s. Her mother, Candy, knew enough to bring her own mother Caroline to the shop as well.

Cindy was the third of six candidates that Samuel would outfit for this pageant. In the back room, he nodded brusquely, “Strip.”

Cindy didn’t hesitate; she knew the drill. Hell, the whole town knew the drill.

Samuel didn’t seem turned on, didn’t’ seem turned off. Just some more teenage pussy. He ran the back of his finger up and down her bald pussy, nodded in satisfaction. He turned to Candy, “Good. Make sure she’s this fresh every time.”

“Of course. Do you want your BJ now or later?” No embarrassment as she gestured to Caroline, “Me or Mama?”

He smiled at Caroline as he unbuckled his belt, “How old are you?”

“Forty-two. Forty-three next week.”

“A little young for me, but okay.”

Cindy and Candy watched as Caroline casually undressed, sat on a low tailor’s stool, and took Samuel into her mouth. Cindy had never seen her grandmother suck cock before, but there wasn’t much mystery to it. In Sausalito, every girl grew up knowing what it was, knowing how to do it, knowing to swallow.

Candy, on the other hand, had seen her mother giving blowjobs before. It was a Benoit family tradition going back generations. Each mother gave her daughter a few cocksucking lessons. Just to get her started off on the right foot.

None of the Benoit women found it in the least bit odd. It was as common as teaching her daughter how to make a bed, cook a pot of gumbo. Caroline’s mother had taught her; she taught Candy; Candy taught Cindy. Done deal.

The Saturday morning pageant in the high school auditorium was presided over by the head judge — currently Mayor Gigi Fontenot. The other four judges were City Council members — in this case, all male. Ray-Ray was responsible for capturing the event for posterity. And, paywall streaming.

Gigi dressed down; this was the girls’ day, their turn in the spotlight. Striding the stage comfortably, she used a handheld cordless mic to call the contestants out, one by one.

Even the righteous and the pious had to admit it was quite a sight. Backstage, each of the seven mothers had oiled up her naked daughter before helping her into her costume. Each girl glistened, had a glow about her, as she stepped onto the lighted stage.

Seven naturally tan, sleek, gleaming bodies. Trim and taut and pulsing with a sexual aura. Bright white smiles, freshly coifed black hairdos, minimal makeup. Fuck-me high heels helped define shapely thighs and a tight little butt.

Misty Cartier had the most daring costume — those three tiny pieces attached to her body with spirit gum.

One girl, 14-year Mary Durant sported the usual thong and brief top. But her mother, in a daring and innovative move, had Mary’s brother paint a neon green arrow pointing down her tummy directly to her little pussy. Bobby Durant had a steady hand, an artistic temperament, and some talent.

Cindy Benoit’s mother, Candy, had instructed Samuel, “Yellow for her pussy and tits. But I want the ties to be flesh-colored.”

Samuel nodded his understanding, “So it’ll look like nothing’s holding up the pieces.”

Each girl was outstanding in her own right. Luscious, sexy, inviting. And because of their relative youth, projected a sensual innocence that stopped just short of slutty.

But viewed as a package, the seven girls, covered only with a minuscule amount of material, were almost overwhelming. Almost a sensory overload. The girls were excited, proud, nervous, and fully aware of their own sexual attraction.

Once they were lined up, smiling brightly at the audience, Gigi led with the first question, “Raise your hand if you swallow.”

Seven hands shot up.

There was polite applause, but no one was surprised. That had been a standard query for years and years. And, not one girl had demurred over all that time. Do you swallow cum? Yawn.

Then Gigi went down the line, asking each individual girl about her sex life.

“Susie, are you still a virgin?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve done?”

“Me an’ my brothers? Tee-Ron and Billy? We burned some herb one night and I ended up jacking them off.”

“Good girl. You still take care of them?”

“No, Mama tole ‘em they can jerk themselves off, leave me alone.”

“Misty, you’re the oldest girl here. Are you still a virgin?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Why is that, hon?”

“Mama.”

“She’s making you wait?”

“Yeah. Another year.”

“What about blowjobs?”

Misty snorted, “Oh, I been suckin’ cock for, like forever.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s cool. I can’t get knocked up, so she’s fine with BJs.”

“Cindy Benoit, how many different boys have you gotten off?”

“Mouth or hands?”

“Both.”

“Oh, God, lemme see...” Cindy stood there in the spotlight, in her yellow outfit, lips moving silently, counting off on her fingers, unselfconscious, simply wanting to come up with an accurate account.

“Twelve. I think.”

The other four judges were seated at a table off to the side of the stage. Gigi occasionally held her mic in front of them so they could ask their own questions. They also took notes throughout, just as if this were a serious civic matter.

Gigi, hugely enjoying herself, making it up as she went along, turned to the audience, “This year, I’ll be testing for smoothness.”

There was some puzzled audience rumblings. The seven girls looked at each other — equally confused.

Gigi glided over to Lisa Lambert and slid her index finger under the giggling girl’s thong. Gigi flashed a magnificent smile at the crowd, “Smooth as a baby’s butt.”

Roars of approval.

Gigi went down the line, one by one, brushing her finger along each bald pussy. But when she got to Missy Cartier, she just patted her; she couldn’t feel her little pussy without peeling off the thong.

When she got to Cindy Benoit, the little girl boldly pulled out the yellow triangle to give Gigi unfettered access. She got the loudest cheer of the morning.

The following Monday morning, Cindy’s mother, Candy, was featured on Shannon Says.

“Well, Candy Benoit, needless to say, you must be so proud of little Cindy. Miss Sausalito 2023.”

“Of course I am. So’s her grandmother, Caroline.”

“Ah, Caroline, yes. How many blowjobs did she give Samuel Poirot?”

“Seven. We had seven fittings — most people don’t realize how much work is involved in crafting the smallest possible outfit. The rules say her pussy has to be covered, but I didn’t want some, you know, granny panties or something.”

“Of course. There is an art to it. Now, on to Miss Kitty’s. How excited you and Cindy must be.”

“You got that right! John Lee Hooker is being real good about it. She’ll have to miss a bunch of classes of course, but they’ll let her make it up.”

“She’ll start today?”

“Right, Kate will have her work the first show. The lunch crowd isn’t that big, so she’ll get used to it, the stage and dancing up there, the lights and music an’ all.”

“Dancing and stripping — of course that’s just part of the gig. What I want to know, hell, what all of Sausalito wants to know — what about the Blowjob Room?”

“I had me a long talk with Kate about that. She says demand for Cindy will be at an all-time high. But Kate won’t let her suck more than five cocks a day, an’ I agree with that. I wanna keep Cindy fresh, keep her eager. I want every guy to get his money’s worth. It may be the only time a Miss Sausalito sucks him off, so it should be special.”

“Very noble. But, Candy ... five a day? That won’t be near enough to meet the demand.”

“Oh I know, I know. Me an’ Kate worked it out. She’ll keep a list of guys. Then after Cindy’s week is up, I’ll keep driving her to Miss Kitty’s for a couple of hours after school ‘til she’s all caught up.”

“Good plan, good plan. Now back to the stage. Will Sausalito be able to see Miss-Sausalito-pussy up there?”

“Acourse! I mean that’s like the whole point.”

“Now tonight, Monday night, is Ladies Night there. I’m sure you and Cindy have discussed that.”