Chapter 59: Mama’s Running Late...

“Mama’s running late. Hi, I’m Ricky.”

He held out his hand for a fist-bump, “Hello, I’m Jack.”

Seated at the kitchen table, Jack Bannister glanced at the erotic photos, but didn’t comment. Ricky poured him some iced tea and said, “Miz Broussard called Mama — she had to go in and dance at Miss Kitty’s this morning. She should be back any time.”

“Oh. Well ... what do you think about that? Her dancing?”

Ricky thought about it. “She likes it.” He nodded to himself, “Since Dad left ... well, she likes it.”

Jack smiled, “What does she like about it?”

Again, Ricky took his time. “She works out. Every day. Takes care of ... I mean she stays in good shape.”

“Yes.”

“An’ she likes being up there ... you know, on the stage.”

“I understand.”

Ricky lowered his voice, “My friends say she’s a MILF.”

“Have you seen her dance, Ricky? Does she, like practice at home?”

“No, not here, not that I know of. I think she does at Miss Kitty’s ... you know with the other dancers.”

“Probably so, she seems conscientious. So you haven’t gotten to see her perform?”

“Once I did. On the Saturday show.”

“Interesting. What was it like?”

Ricky had been well coached, “Um, cool. But probably you oughta ask her.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Just then Candy breezed in, ‘Hi boys, sorry I’m late.” She kissed Jack on the lips, slipping her tongue in for a second. “Let me hop in the shower, I’ll be right out.”

As they listened to the water running, Jack nodded at the three photos, “She does keep herself in good shape.”

Ricky agreed, “Yes sir, she works at it. I mean if you’re a dancer, you sorta got to.”

“Quite right.”

From the hallway, “Ricky! Bring me my robe. I think it’s in my closet.”

“Be right back.”

Ricky strolled out, picked up the seersucker robe, and tossed it to a naked, dripping Candy. She winked at him. Moments later she plopped down in a kitchen chair, smiled up at her son, “Neck me, slave boy.”

Ricky stood behind her and began massaging her neck and shoulders. The robe was fastened at her waist, but about half open to showcase part of her breasts.

“Ah, that feels wonderful, thank you, precious.”

Jack said, “So, how was the show?”

“It’s exhilarating. Completely different from the regular shows. It’s all boys in the audience.” She winked, “Very appreciative boys. I mean, it’s not like they’re very ... um, discerning. They jess wanna see naked girls so it’s not like they’re judging your routines.”

“Oh.”

“So, where are you taking us to lunch? What a treat!”

“New Orleans.”

“Wow! I haven’t been there for ages. Terrific.”

“Actually, I thought we might make a weekend of it. Spend the night, drive back tomorrow.”

“Really? I’d love it! We’d love it, right, Ricky?”

“Sure. But where would we ... I mean...”

“Jack and I will have a room. You can sleep in his car. You do have a car, don’t you, Mr. Bannister?”

“It’s nice and roomy too.”

Ricky sighed theatrically, “Child abuse. More abuse.”

Candy put a fist in her lap and pumped it, “This is the kind of abuse he does. Several times a day.”

“Mama!”

Jack laughed. “I took the liberty of booking a suite at the Bourbon Orleans. In the heart of the French Quarter.”

Candy nodded solemnly, “That’s better. Ricky won’t get cum all over the back seat of your car.”

“Mama!”

She stood and kissed Jack again, “I’ll go throw a suitcase together for me an’ Ricky. Be right back.” As she left, she untied her robe which flowed open, but didn’t show them anything.

Candy wasn’t sure what kind of big car it was, but it had a comfortable bench seat and she scooted over into the middle. The three of them buckled up, and Jack pushed a button. Soft Dixieland whispered from the sound system, “Get us in a New Orleans mood.”

“Most excellent.”

Once out of town, Candy placed her left hand on Jack’s upper thigh. He stiffened for a moment, then smiled and relaxed. She put her right palm near Ricky’s knee and gave him a quick squeeze.

The Bourbon Orleans was magnificent — Ricky stared at the lobby, the people, the suite. Candy pretended to study the connecting door closely. She nodded at Jack, “It locks, thank God. Otherwise the little perv...”

“Mama!”

It was a festive day — teasing back and forth, laughter, and sightseeing. A late lunch at Commander’s — pecan-crusted fish, white shrimp and grits, heritage squash — shared around.

After dessert, Candy announced, “I need a nap. Anyone gonna join me?”

Jack glanced at Ricky who was studying his empty ice cream bowl.

Later, out of the shower, into bed, Candy hugged Jack, “This is just what I needed. Now, what’s a girl gotta do to get laid?”

As he entered her, Jack grinned, “It bother you that he’s right next door?”

Another confirmation of his fascination with her and Ricky.

Candy slid her tongue into his ear and whispered, “The mood you get me in, it almost wouldn’t bother me if he sat right there in that chair and watched you fuck me.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

Before Shelia Banks was murdered, before Eulalie pulled the plug on the LOST project, her ghostwriter, Gwendolyn Parsons had reached out to a fellow author named Thorndyke. Why? Because Gwendolyn suspected one of his editors — Felicia Felcher — was coercing him into including certain characters and plot lines in his stories.

And, Gwendolyn came to believe, that Thorndyke wasn’t the only LOST writer that Felcher was manipulating. Gwendolyn told Eulalie, “I’m not 100% certain about the other three authors, but my gut tells me...”

“Okay, let’s say Felcher is working all four of them. Why?”

“The why is also speculation — money. But the theme that she has all four writers work into their stories is consistent — a wealthy executive is having sex with an underage girl.”

“Consensual?”

“Well, it’s not rape, but they’re so young. And troubled. And vulnerable.”

“How young?”

“Your age — 14, 15, a couple of storylines aren’t that specific, but it’s young.”

“I wish to fuck I’d never heard of LOST.”

But with Shelia killed in Omaha, and another victim — Gabe Reynolds, in Oakland — both tied to the same murderer, Chase instructed Eulalie, “Check out this Felcher. Why is a Bay Area attorney posing as three different editors for various LOST authors?”

“She’s the only ... anomaly we’ve come across in the entire story site. Everyone else is a writer, an editor, a reader.”

“And in addition to using different aliases, Gwendolyn believes that she’s leveraging writers into injecting real-live scenarios into their fictional works.”

“Because she’s blackmailing the real-life person or persons whose storyline Thorndyke is portraying.”

So, Eulalie hopped on a flight to San Francisco. A meeting with her older sister, Marie. A deep dive into Felicia Felcher.

The two Cajun sisters connected at the Petite Auberge Hotel. Marie was now living in Pasadena with Lacy Danube, while Eulalie was in New York with Chase. They embraced warmly in the lobby of the boutique inn. Fewer than thirty rooms, a renowned restaurant that was a former food truck, a prime location in lower Nob Hill.

The girls checked each other out — same dark tans, dazzling white smiles, slender bodies and ... that indefinable something that whispered, “Sex.”

Marie held Eulalie’s shoulders and smiled, “Another fine mess you’ve got me into.”

“Sorry, Ollie.”

“Well, come up to my room — I’ll show you what Lacy’s researcher found out about Felicia Fucking Felcher.”

Marie opened her tablet and passworded herself into a secure site. “First,, the money. Felcher made over $400,000 last year. Gross. She lives high — a home in Atherton — but she can afford it. About one-fifth of her net income went into conservative investments. She also tossed $26,000 and change into an AI startup.”

“No red flags.”

Marie smiled, “Not at first glance. But you know Lacy — dig deeper. And then really start excavating.”

They paused when room service delivered red wine and snacks. Then Eulalie said, “How deep?”

Sunlight streamed into the room at an angle — dust motes seemed to halo around Marie. “Felcher has an account in Vaduz, but that’s as far as the forensic accountant could penetrate.”

“Liechtenstein.”

“Yep, Banque Havilland AG. Private bank, family-owned. They provide private banking — duh — wealth management, asset management, various fund services.”

“All of which suggests an extra income source for Felcher.”

“Or sources.”

Marie agreed with Eulalie, “Yeah, you’ve taken this about as far as you can.”

“So, either pull the plug or ask Chase to step in.”

“You’ve never been much of a plug-puller.”

Jack seemed to know New Orleans pretty well. He drove them through the Garden District, along St. Charles, and nodded to his right, “Tulane, that’s where I went before law school.”

Candy said, “Sausalito High. That’s where I went before I didn’t go to law school.”

She slid her hand up his thigh and rested it easily on his bulge. Ricky looked out of the corner of his eyes, then stared straight ahead, keeping a straight face.

They meandered for several hours, stopping for a drink here, music there. Candy was relaxed, happy, carefree. After dinner, riding in the moonlight, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and placed a palm over the bulges of Jack and Ricky. She sighed, “My best boys.”

Both grew immediately erect. Jack cleared his throat. Ricky’s heart raced. Candy smiled to herself. Every once in a while, she peeked out and soon realized that Jack was simply driving around, prolonging the ride. He was obviously turned on, and not just because she was fondling him.

He really was enjoying the mother/son interaction.

Candy felt so relaxed, almost dreamy. She openly stroked the boys in tandem, in rhythm, humming softly along with the music.

Back in the hotel suite, she said, “Showers. Then bed.”

She soaped Jack up lightly, making sure he didn’t get too excited. He drew her to him, hugging her tightly, the water cascading over their heads and bodies.

He smiled down at her, “I enjoyed tonight. Especially the car ride.”

“I could tell.” She reached down and squeezed him, “Ricky enjoyed it too.”

“God, Candy, I want you. Right now.”

They toweled each other off, just a little. She winked, “Be right back.”

He stared as she strode boldly across the bedroom, still dripping water, into the sitting room, and through the connecting door. He heard a giggle in her voice, “Sweet dreams, baby boy.”

Raspy voice, “God, Mama, jess God.”

Candy sashayed back, nipples erect, moist, leaving the door open, and walked into Jack’s arms. “I want you. Right now.”

While Jack fucked her late that night in New Orleans, Candy was especially appreciative. And loud in letting him know. He was sure that part of her vocal theatrics was also for Ricky’s benefit. Jack was falling for this vivacious Cajun girl.

After breakfast at the Red Dog Diner in New Orleans, Jack drove Candy and Ricky back to Sausalito. She kept her hands to herself.

But in her living room, she sat on Jack’s lap and slid his hand inside her pink crop top from the bottom. She felt his erection growing. Ricky was trying not to stare.

She nuzzled his cheek, “Jack?”

He cleared his throat, “Yes?”

“Next time you’re in town, you kin stay here, with me an’ Ricky.”

“Friday?”

“You bet!”

He grinned widely.

She said, “It’s settled then. Uh, Mr. Bannister?”

“Mrs. Barbier.”

“I’m thinking maybe I better show you where my bedroom is. I wouldn’t want you getting all lost and confused, come Friday.”

“Maybe you better.”

As she led him away she turned to Ricky, “If you’re gonna peek, at least try to be quiet.”

“Aw.”

As Jack fucked her for the second time that day, he again marveled at the sheer enjoyment she got out of it. He was convinced she wasn’t faking it. And, she wasn’t.

Senator Randal Johnson called her on a Tuesday morning. “It’s me.”

“Hi, you.”

“That matter we talked about. I’d like to continue our discussion.”

“I understand.”

“In person, not over the phone.”

“I understand.”

“Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.”

“Works fine for me, sir.”

“The Cajun Arms?”

“Okay. But it might be more ... um, discreet to meet at my house. Ricky will be at school; we’ll be alone.”

“Good thinking. What’s your address?”

Candy drove straight downtown, straight to Miss Kitty’s.

Kate nodded, “Sounds like we’re getting there.” She picked up her phone, “Hi, Babette, come see me. Right now.”

Ten minutes later, Kate looked at Babette, “Okay, we have a guy who likes young stuff. Doesn’t matter to you who he is. Making him happy is important to me. Candy suggested Chloé, who can easily pass for 10.”

Babette nodded, “Sure can. But, Kate, she’s still a...”

“A virgin. I know, Babette. Candy explained that he can’t fuck her, but she’s available for everything else.”

“Oh. Okay, good. What you want me to do?”

“This guy is understandably skittish. Afraid of some kind of sting or something. He’s going to meet Candy at her house tomorrow morning. Candy, if it feels right, you offer to have Babette come by to reassure him. Having Chloé’s mother there could put him enough at ease to go for it.”

Candy nodded, “Right. But only if it seems to make sense at the time.”

“Yeah, play it by ear, use your best judgment.”

“Babette, what pictures do you have of Chloé?”

“The ones Ray-Ray took at Contrary Mary’s. They’re real good. Here, look.”

She strolled through her cell; Kate and Candy leaned in to look. They showed the teenager nude, looking like a grade-schooler, in a variety of poses. Angelic face, no boobs, a tiny slit of a pussy.

Kate nodded, “Good. Send them to Candy. But it’ll be better if Babette’s the one to show them to our gentleman — let’s call him Mr. X.”

Candy said, “He’s from Atlanta.”

“Good. Okay, Babette, don’t show him those two beaver shots, it makes her look whorish. I want youth, innocence, sensuality.”

“Yes ma’am. Uh ... where will it ... you know?”

“Probably the Cajun Arms. If he insists on your house, or Candy’s, let me know.” Kate thought to herself: _I’ll have to have Ray-Ray set up some hidden cameras. The motel will be easiest._

Babette, “If he wants her, Mr. X, what should I tell her, Chloé?”

“Bring her to see me. I’ll explain everything. But physically it’ll just be blowjobs, maybe some pussy licking. Nothing she hasn’t done before. The main thing will be for her to remember that she’s 10-years-old.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, girls, here’s five hundred each. It’s yours whether this comes off or not. If it works, there’ll be a nice bonus for each of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“Babette, we don’t know his schedule yet, so you be ready to pull Chloé out of school or work at any time.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Wait a minute, what’s your younger daughter’s name?”

“Colette.”

“Right. Show me her pictures — not nude, just regular.”

Babette complied.

“Good. Send these to Candy too. Candy, I don’t know if you’ll need them. i don’t know how you might use them in the process. But think about it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If he’s willing to do a 10-year-old, it wouldn’t surprise me if a kindergartner would also tempt him.”

The next morning Senator Randal Johnson showed up at Cathy’s at five minutes past the hour. First thing out of his mouth was, “Jack doesn’t know I’m here.”

Candy stood up straighter, “Sir, I’m not highly educated, but I’m not stupid either. Please don’t treat me like I am.” She figured Kate would like her showing some backbone,

“Sorry. But I’m sure you can appreciate my caution.”

“You’re not the only one who has to be careful.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then nodded, “You’re right.”

“Jess so we understand each other.”

“We do.”

Sitting in the kitchen, sipping chicory, he glanced up at the three photos of Candy, “Nice. Tasteful, I like them.”

“Thank you.”

Her instincts told her to wait, to let him bring up the subject. Finally he did, “Okay, we both know why I’m here. I don’t apologize for my ... tastes. My appetites. I am who I am.”

Candy nodded.

“You mentioned a young girl, a girl of a certain age.”

“I did.”

“is she ... um, still available?”

“She is.”

“Taking every sensible precaution into full consideration, how would it work? As you see it?”

“I been thinking on it. I think the first step is for you to meet her mother.”

“I like that idea. Parental consent. How would we ... would you...?”

“I talked with her after you called.” Candy held up her hand, “No names, no details. You’re Mr. X from Atlanta.”

“Okay.”

“The mother’s name is Babette. She’s waiting for my call.”

“And?”

“She would come by. The three of us could talk. Maybe you’d be comfortable, maybe not.”

“This Babette ... she would expect a sizable ... recompense, I suppose.”

“No sir. This would be a favor to Kate Broussard. No money, no tips, no ... no nothing. Jess some fun and games.” Candy held up her hand again, “But remember, little Chloé is still a virgin. An’ Babette plans to keep her that way. For a while, anyway.”

“Other than that?”

“Babette says she knows how to suck cock. But at her age ... well, I’m not sure how good she’d be. An’ Babette says she loves having her little pussy licked.” Shrug, “That’s what Babette tole me anyway.”

“Photos, pictures, any kind of preview?”

“Babette.”

Johnson sat still for a minute or two. Sighed, “Call her.”

Babette knocked on Candy’s door, trying, and not totally succeeding, not to appear nervous. But that was fine. Being a little uncomfortable given the circumstances was understandable.

Candy led her back to the kitchen. “Mr. X, this here is Babette, Chloe’s mama. Babette, Mr. X.”

They shook hands formally.

Candy said, “Babette, undress. Show him you aren’t wearing a wire.”

She was startled but stood up immediately, “Oh sure. Of course.”

She unbuttoned her yellow sundress, and slid her panties off. Kicked off her sneakers. Stood there for inspection. She looked about 15 years old.

Johnson smiled, “Very nice.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She’s a bright girl, reads way above 5th-grade level. Real pretty. She’s been with one boy, older, I won’t say his name. She likes blowing him. Well, she likes how excited she can get him. An’ she has two little girlfriends — they fool around?”

“How?”

“Fingers mostly. One girl, I won’t say her name, likes to lick Chloé’s pussy. Chloe loves that.”

“Candy mentioned you have pictures.”

“Yes sir. Dressed or undressed?”

“What do you think?”

“Acourse. Here she is.”

Johnson sucked in his breath and held it as he scrolled through the treasure trove. Candy watched him with interest.

He handed the cell back, “I want to do this.”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you sure some financial arrangement isn’t in order?”