Chapter 27: The previous year, Sausalito...

The previous year, Sausalito — specifically the Cajun Bayous — served as a sort of sanctuary city for former Wyoming Senator Ethan Dalton. He had needed a bolthole and Marie Guidry provided it.

During his stay, Ethan had encouraged Marie to use the influence of Rémy Thibodeaux’s police force to start building a political sphere of influence. His patrolmen and officers began doing small favors for the good citizens, making deposits in the favor bank.

Over time, they began suggesting that their neighbors might lean a certain way on this ballot proposition or that one. Rémy was nowhere near creating the Thibodeaux Machine that Marie had hoped for, but he could reliably deliver a block of votes that numbered over 3,000.

And, that was not an insignificant contribution. A couple of key players up in Jackson appreciated his influence, particularly when they combined his votes with those of other supporters. So when Rémy reluctantly left his beloved Sausalito to travel to the state capital, he wasn’t exactly going hat in hand to request a small favor.

At the time Kate Broussard wasn’t aware of it, but Eulalie had placed a deposit on the now-closed Bon Ton Bar next to Miss Kitty’s. What Eulalie’s vision was, and the reason she sent Rémy to Jackson, had to do with expansion. Real estate, yes, but with more in mind.

The first Cajun band began warming up in the Cyrus Landry Memorial Park a little past 9 at night. The second party, the real party, was about to get underway. This crowd would be smaller and would include only the most socially liberal citizens. They knew what to expect and they looked forward to the bash every year.

As they walked toward the sound of ‘Squeeze Box Boogie’, Melanie Couture smiled at her son, “Christian, who were those two little sluts feeling you up?”

They were wearing, as instructed, matching thongs — yellow in their case. Melanie had a gauzy matching halter that showcased her erect nipples.

“Oh, just the Castilian sisters — Susie and Janie. They’re always asking about the Dirty Dozen.”

“Eve’s daughters. And what did you tell them?”

“That you were the first mama, the very first one, to suck off her own son.”

She giggled, “And I suppose you told them the cum story too.”

“Of course, that was so cool.”

“Good, Kate will be pleased.”

Contrary Mary’s had replaced free tap beer with free margaritas from a machine brought over from the restaurant. The same four Cajun waitresses — 14, 15, and two 16-year-olds — had replaced their raggedy denim shorts with thongs that had the word ‘CUNT’ printed in vertical letters on them.

A second band was playing ‘The Back Door’ at the opposite side of the park.

The majorettes, feeling strumpetier than ever, roamed in groups, segregated by the school they attended. They no longer wore their uniforms, but were still easy to identify — lithe, long-limbed, slender, tan, scrumptious. YesBut Nelson followed them, providing protection in case ... well, he followed them.

While the dancers from Miss Kitty’s — wearing lacy white panties and transparent bras — were admired, stopped for photos, they were somewhat eclipsed by the Dirty Dozen.

Kate had told them, “This is your coming-out party, ladies. I want you son by your side for the entire night. Feel each other up, do a lot of smooching.”

Claire Chastain asked, “Should I suck Robby’s cock?”

“I’ll get back to you girls later on. Depends on how the party’s going.”

Claire’s casually-asked question — she might have been inquiring about returning a library book — was indicative of how far along Kate had brought her troupe. Sucking cock at Miss Kitty’s was one thing. Sucking your son’s cock was an entirely new, entirely shocking level. Sucking your son’s cock in public ... unthinkable, not that many months ago.

Now? It was merely a procedural question. Claire and the other girls simply wanted to do whatever Kate thought best.

The Fourth was, by some unspoken agreement, the one night of the year when family restrictions were ... loosened would be a tame descriptor. Young kids were allowed to stay up late and roam by themselves. Husbands and wives wandered off in different directions. There was an unspoken, sort of Brigadoon sense on that one night of the year;

Downtown, there were spools of lights from the surrounding streets, but also expanses of relative darkness. Where giggly girls slid off panties and lucky boys received their first-ever handjob. Where husbands openly eyed the young stuff, and wives necked with friends, neighbors, girlfriends, and the occasional stranger.

The Fourth was the one night of the year when the professional dancers didn’t stand out that much from the housewives and daughters around town.

The exception was the Dirty Dozen, and that wasn’t because of their skimpy costumes. While all of Sausalito was aware of the mother/son aspect, and most of the town had shared the lurid rumors ... well, the afterparty did more than confirm the gossip.

One example: Sylvia Fontaine, standing under a streetlight, slid her hand inside Charlie’s thong as she deep-kissed him. He moaned in obvious passion as he caressed her bare butt.

That scene, or variations thereof, was watched, photographed and filmed, envied or reviled, all over the park. Many men, and all of the boys were incredibly turned on. The little girls stared and stared, and many a slender hand slid down inside their panties.

To Kate Broussard, who was a roving witness, the women of Sausalito — their reactions — were the most interesting. Even the frowny, pursed-lipped minority stopped to watch. Other, more libertine women lingered, feeling vague, unusual stirrings. A few, not very many, but a few, were turned on, and a hand slid inside shorts or under a light, summer dress.

In the Castilian house, Eve and her daughters didn’t discuss it, but they were a little relieved that Don was in the middle of his ten-day offshore job on an oil platform. Relieved for similar reasons. His presence wouldn’t have stopped any of them from attending the party, but now, coming and going would be a little easier.

Eve left first, and her only admonition was, “Don’t stay out too late.”

The young investigators had noticed that their mother had laid out a tee and panties, when she went in to shower. The panties had been left behind; Janie and Susie exchanged a knowing glance. Without saying a word, they reached under their own tees and tossed their thongs on the dresser.

A quick pre-departure mirror-check. They were barefoot, wearing only a boy’s undershirt, sleeveless with thin shoulder straps. It hung three orb four inches below their butts, but that didn’t concern them. There would be plenty of opportunities to flash some butt, or a bald little pussy whenever they felt like it.

As they strolled toward the strains of ‘Swing That Thing’, they knew, without needing to discuss it, that they’d be keeping an eye out for their mother. Not following her, not exactly. But they were intensely curious to see if she’d hook up with anyone, and if so, who? And what?

As the evening grew later, as the margaritas flowed freely, both Cajun bands slowed down the tempo and began playing twangy, romantic music. Even the most graceful waltzers hugged their partners closer, ground against each other. It was a time for women to press tummies against erections, men to fondle butts.

It was also a time to cuddle with friends, neighbors, strangers. More than one wife — and not just the young ones — rubbed a hand up and down a straining bulge and cooed, “God, that feels good.”

Kate had noted earlier that there seemed to be even more chatter about the Dirty Dozen than the Elite Eight. And, that was understandable. The Eight worked only one night a week. And they, with their sons, entered the Mama Room through a private door in the back alley. The town gossiped like crazy about the goings-on, but everything took place behind closed doors. The Dozen danced on stage on Saturday mornings and were frequently seen out and about with their sons.

Eve Castilian wasn’t as obsessed with the Dozen as her daughters, but this night she felt particularly drawn to them. Well, to the thong-clad boys.

Eve approached Sally Beauford who was sitting on picnic bench, leaning back against the table, taking a break with Barry. Eve sat down, placing the boy in the middle. “Sally, he looks good enough to eat.”

Sally laughed, “Are you asking permission, Eve?”

She looked at her friend for several moments, “You know, I think I just might be.”

Sally grinned, “I was about to do him myself.” She hooked her fingers under the waistband of Barry’s thong. He lifted his hips, and his mother tossed the flimsy garment aside.

Eve was already playing with herself under her tee. Sally gave her son a friendly squeeze, “Sit up on the table, honey, make it easier for her.”

Susie and Janie watched, fascinated, from about 15 feet away. They’d seen countless blowjobs on porn sites — who hadn’t? But this was amazing. That it was their mother was compelling. However, what really captured their imagination was one, a naked, and hot, Barry Beauford. And two, that his mother undressed him and was smiling as she watched.

The two little investigators watched until it was obvious that Barry had cum. Then they slipped away into the darkness for further explorations.

Eve and Sally sat comfortably, each with a hand of Barry’s flaccid penis. Eve asked, with genuine curiosity, “Have you fucked him yet?”

“No, but I figure Kate is gonna tell me to pretty soon.”

“Lucky you.”

“I know, Eve, I know.”

That exchange, open and honest, reflected each woman’s feelings.

As Jill Moreau drove toward Danny Boy’s house, she continued dithering: I can’t belove I’m doing this. That I’m on my way to fuck a 14-year-old boy. Then she scoffed at herself: Who am I trying to kid? I woke up at 5:30 this morning and had to force myself to wait until it was time.

She thought about parking a block or so away; then decided she was being silly. She could be visiting Denise. It was a school day; Danny Boy shouldn’t be home anyway. Right before she got out of her car. she called Ginny, “I’m here.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger. Give me a full report as soon as you can.”

She hardly felt like a tiger, but took a deep breath and knocked on the door anyway. Danny Boy opened the door, smiling, “Hi, Jill, I’m really glad you’re here.” He was wearing a thigh-length summer robe, and smelled faintly like something citrusy ... lemon shampoo.

He was about an average height for a teenage Cajun boy, but she was so petite that he seemed to tower over her. Then she realized it wasn’t so much the size difference as his presence. He seemed so confident, while her heart was fluttering.

Denise welcomed her warmly with a hug and a big smile, “I’m so glad you’re here, Jill, so very glad.” She was wearing a short robe that matched his, and her hair also smelled slightly of lemon.

She led them into the kitchen where Jill turned down coffee; she didn’t want to become any more jittery. As the three of them sipped orange juice, Denise made small talk while Jill kept stealing glances at Danny Boy.

He moved so ... gracefully, like a cat, a big cat. He came back to the table to pour more juice and Denise winked at Jill, said “Preview of coming attractions,” and untied his robe.

Danny Boy smiled fondly at Denise and shrugged the robe off. Jill stared at him as it puddled at his feet. Her mind was racing, skittering from one place to another: Preview — that’s what Ginny had said last night when she kissed me. Then: Kimmy was right, it hangs about halfway to his knees. Then: My fucking God!_

Denise patted him on the butt, “Isn’t he lovely?” Her voice wasn’t smug; she wasn’t bragging, just sincerely stating an obvious truth.

Jill whispered, “Yes.”

He was slender, relaxed, had good posture, an easy smile. But her eyes kept darting back to his penis. It was as fat as a beer can, it simply was. It pulsed steadily. She thought: No way I can even get that in my mouth.

Denise placed her hand over Jill’s, “Honey, we watched your video last night and Danny Boy came so hard.” She grinned widely, “Nobody touched him.” She patted Jill’s hand, “He exploded like a gusher.”

Jill’s eyes were sill riveted, but the words registered and she thought: Denise is right fucking here with her naked son. Then: My video. She’s talking about, about me. Then: He came!

Denise patted her hand again, “You are so fucking hot, girl.”

Jill’s voice came out as a whisper again, “Thank you.” She tore her eyes away to look at Denise, “I’m glad you liked it.” And, to her surprise, she was. “I wouldn’t have gotten up the nerve, but Ray-Ray had me make it for Danny Boy.” Stop babbling, Jill.

Denise smiled, “You’re so beautiful when you cum.”

Jill was 38, the oldest one in the room. Denise, 27. Danny Boy, 14. She looked back at him — he was throbbing to life. It, somehow, grew a little thicker. Her mind registered: It’s not that much longer, maybe seven inches or so.

Denise said, “Jill,” a smile in her voice.

Jill blinked, “Huh?”

“Isn’t he simply scrumptious?”

At that moment, Jill realized what was going on: Denise was trying to put her at ease. Trying to get her past the butterflies stage. She felt a flush of appreciation; the woman was offering kindness and comfort to her.

She cleared her throat, looked back to Denise, “Yes, yes he is. Scrumptious is just exactly the right word.”

Denise gave her a tender smile, one of kindness and understanding, “Are you ready, honey?” She winked, “He certainly is.”

Jill turned back to him. His cock was pointed directly at her, on a perfect horizontal. She noticed how low his balls hung down. And, for the first time, she saw that his black pubic hair was trimmed into the shape of a tiny heart. Her mind wandered off again: Kimmy didn’t say anything about a heart. Is it new? Is it for me?

Denise stood and held hands with Jill and Danny Boy, leading them out of the kitchen, through the living room, into what was obviously his bedroom. Posters taped up — rock musicians, football players, porn stars getting fucked, sucking cock, licking each other’s pussy.

Denise patted Jill on the butt, “Fresh sheets.” She reached down and held the hem of Jill’s long tee, ‘May I?”

Jill wasn’t in a daze, but she felt dreamy, like this was happening to someone else. She automatically lifted her arms as Denise gently pulled the garment up and off. Denise hooked her fingers in Jill’s panties and slid them down. Jill didn’t even blush as she lifted one foot, then the other.

She simply stared at Danny Boy as Denise knelt down and unlaced her sneakers. For some reason, Jill said, “Thank you.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from someone else.

Denise said, “My God, Danny Boy, jess look at her.”

“I know.”

There was a smile in both their voices.

Jill caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Compared to him, she looked tiny and fair-skinned. And she felt it too, like she was a little girl, naked in a room with the grownups. Sexy, for sure, but ... somehow a child.

Denise winked at Jill, gave Danny Boy’s cock a friendly swipe that sent his cock swaying back and forth, “Showtime.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then Jill. When she left, Jill didn’t even notice that she left the door open. Danny Boy had picked her up and laid her gently on his bed.

When Chase Windsor walked into Contrary Mary’s with Eulalie, Kate was stunned. “Mr. Windsor! I had no idea.”

“Chase, just Chase, Kate. I am so impressed with your operation — the Elite Eight, the Dirty Dozen, the waiting list ... you’re an extraordinary woman, a true professional.”

With his affable manner, his well-honed praise, Chase easily charmed Kate; and she was a 60-year old woman who had run a sex business, a notoriously tough business, for almost 20 years.

Eulalie said, “Chase is here for the Pamper Party, Kate, can we squeeze him in?”

Recovered now, she smiled, “I’m not sure, Eulalie. Think the Dirty Dozen will mind?”

The Pamper Party was intended to surprise the Dirty Dozen, delight them, and, as Eulalie had said, “Throw them a little off balance, make them even more determined to please you.”

Kate had two of her dancers — hairdressers who also worked at Wendy’s Salon — set up the private room in Contrary Mary’s. The guests, including their sons, would receive shampoos and brush-outs and pubic waxes from the hairdressers. And also, manicures and pedicures from the wives of two of the Vietnamese fishermen. Those girls didn’t speak much English, but nail-care was a universal language. So far as twelve naked women and boys ... well, the Asian women had seen a lot more than that in their pre-Sausalito days.

The surprise indulgence was a smashing success. Drinks flowed, compliments were exchanged, pussies compared. The twelve young boys had their pubic areas completely shaved and waxed for the very first time.

Eulalie told Kate, “It’s more word-of-mouth advertising. The boys’ friends will notice, they’ll spread the word, other mothers will hear about it. It’s a brand extension for the Dirty Dozen.”

Indeed, it became a trend for a while in the Sausalito School District. For the most part, the boys who tried to shave each other were pretty unsuccessful so far as ascetics were concerned. Over time, aunts, sisters, cousins, neighbor ladies began the often-giggly process of turning some of the lads in town as bald as the sons of the Dirty Dozen.

Eulalie and Chase waited to make their entrance into the Pamper Party until the guests had finished eating. When the crowd first laid eyes on Eulalie, there was a stunned silence for a moment, then wild cheering erupted. The women knew — and knew well — that Marie and Eulalie Guidry still ran the town.

Most of the boys had known Eulalie when ‘the sexiest girl in town’ attended Carver Elementary and John Lee Hooker. Even in grade school, there had been something about her, a quiet aura, that commanded respect even from many of the teachers.

Chase Windsor was another matter entirely. None of the Dirty Dozen had met him, but they all knew about the wealthy stranger who had taken Eulalie out into the world with him. Eulalie Guidry!

At 6’ 2”, Chase was taller than many American men, but in this Cajun community, he towered over almost everyone. But it wasn’t his height — or wasn’t just his height — that awed the room. There was something almost regal in his bearing, something that captured the eye. The women couldn’t articulate it, but they felt his presence down to the bone.