Chapter 2

Renee Borget stood staring out the shuttered window at the teeming street below. Her mind whirled with confusion at her feelings, here in this dreadful city that stank so bad, whose poverty was so forcefully thrust in her face, and whose citizens seemed nonetheless so attractive. The tall black men, raggedly dressed yet clean, still smelling of that unique native odor that mixed sweat, some musky perfume, and everywhere, incense. She couldn't understand why she found it almost agreeable, in spite of the repugnance she knew she would ordinarily feel.

In the cool, air conditioned room, that still was over eighty, she wore just her thong panties, the black pair since Jack had raped her, destroying her nice silk ones in the bargain last night. What a swine he was. He had been so charming before they married, and Grandma had urged her to preserve her virginity until the wedding night. She remembered her shock when he ripped away her maidenhood with that huge cock, thoughtless and raving wildly about her beauty. She had never recovered from that first experience, and in spite of her strong liibido, that had led to countless masturbation experiences when she was young, she still had never had an orgasm with her husband.

Grandma had been so wise, so much the mother figure that her globetrotting real Mom had never been, her nubile, tan skin little wrinkled in spite of her age. Her mother pretended there was no black blood, in spite of Grandma's manifest quadroon features. Yet she was kinder, sweeter, more loving than any of her friends' mothers, and always seemed to anticipate Renee's needs. How could she have made such a mistake about Jack? The question had haunted the young beauty ever since those strange words on her death bed. "He will show you your destiny, Cherie. When it comes, embrace it."

Renee shook her head and turned from the window. She knew Jack was up to something, his late night "meetings" and the secretive way he had acted once they got here raising her hackles. Her brother Giles had begged her not to come. "The bastard will have you there with no one to help you, Ronnie. God knows what he might try."

She smiled when her brother's handsome image came to her mind, remembering how much she had wanted him when they were young, as he grew to manhood before her, and how jealous of his lovers she had been. Grandma had even known that, urging her once to "Bide your time, Cherie. Giles will someday see your value to him." Lately, the temptation to beg him to take her away from Jack, to fuck her in the gentle, loving way she craved, had been almost constant. She thought he was thinking about that too. Perhaps when she returned to the States, she would have a blunt conversation with him. She knew her marriage was over.

She wondered if Jack really thought he was keeping Trixy a secret. God, Trixy, what a name. She's a dumber, shorter, less vivacious version of me, Renee thought. The photo's Giles had gotten from a private detective confirmed it, though the look of pleasure on the girl's face as Jack fucked her ass had made Renee wonder about herself. She knew other women who didn't like their husbands at least had good sex lives, but his sneering, cocky attitude had made Renee gag from the beginning.

On an impulse, she opened the closet door and posed before the full length mirror. Her long, pale blonde hair fell well down her back, with a few tendrils over her shoulders, brushing lightly over her large, full tits. Even as she stared, the nipples stiffened, as though feeling a breeze. Her narrow waist, it's tininess exaggerated by the thong, framed slim but provocative hips, and her legs were firm, lovely pillars of feminine sensuality. A sexy body, to go with a face with a slightly pugged nose, large blue eyes, and full, pouty lips. She always drew stares from men, whether at the Country Club or from construction workers as she swayed by on her pleasant walking tours of Manhatten. One reason she had come to Haiti was to get away from the empty, yet time consuming life spent alternating between Scarsdale and their Park Avenue apartment.

She pushed down the thong, revealing the slightly darker, carefully trimmed small triangle of lush fur between her thighs. White skin framed the soft hair, her only tan line. Funny, she'd been feeling so sexy on this island. The bald lips of her pussy had seemed puffy ever since they got here. When Jack had fucked her last night, it had taken all her effort to resist the urge to respond, and if he hadn't been so goddamn quick, she wasn't sure she could have avoided giving him her ecstacy. She pushed her hips out toward the mirror, watching those soft little vertical pillows of her labia separate, noticing they were wet. Wow, she thought, this place must be having an effect on me.

She smiled at herself, remembering the stares of the big black men, wordlessly crying for her to come to them. What was amazing was that she had felt the impulse to answer, to sneak into some dark alley and let them fuck her to their heart's content. Now that would piss Jack off.

She frowned, and closed the door. Their dinner reservation was in an hour, and she liked looking her best when they went out in public, bathing in the adulation of the waiters, the men, and yes, some women in the room, feeling herself the center of attention. Jack had said he had nothing on tonight, and he might try to fuck her again. Perhaps she should try to let him get her off, see if that would make her feel better. His prick was definitely a winner, and she knew it would be a thrill if she would let herself go. But her hate for him made her quiickly discard that idea. To hell with the son of a bitch, let him use her to shoot, without giving him the satisfaction of pleasing her. Hard as that might be on her needy body.

The phone rang, and she picked it up, answering "Oui?" Jack rasped at her "Hi honey. I'm down in the bar. Why don't you come down for a drink before dinner? Oh and by the way, I've arranged for us to attend a voodoo service tonight. This guy told me it's sexy as hell. That okay with you?"

She sighed, but responded "Sure, Jack. All I have to do is slip into my dress. Are you sure we'll be safe at this umm, service? It isn't out of town or anything, is it?"

His voice sounded rather dull as he said "Nah, just an excuse for a stripper to do her thing, babe. I met a couple of the people. You'll see, it'll be great fun."

She wondered briefly if her plan to wear the thin yellow silk sheath was appropriate if they were going out later, especially to some dirty hovel. It fitted so tight, demanding she go braless, and in the right light, made her look almost nude. She loved the shock and excitement it had caused the only other time she had worn it, at a Disco with Giles and his latest date. She grinned as she remembered Giles' hot eyes on her, and decided it was just right for tonight. She slipped on the matching shoes, even though the three inch heels made her taller than Jack.

Her entrance to the bar caused a hushed fuss she had always loved, and usually Jack made a big deal of kissing her cheek, a sort of boast that she was his woman. Strangely, tonight he just sat there, not even rising as she sat lithely down, her dazzling smile radiating into the dark room. His eyes were dull, and he seemed to stare through her. Christ, she thought, maybe he's taken some drug. Not like him, especially with the suppressed excitement he had seemed to feel about whatever he was doing here.

He hardly spoke during the cocktails and dinner. She finally asked him, over a variation on bananas foster, "What the hell's wrong with you, Jack? You seem completely out of it."

He responded dully, "Oh, it's nothing babe. Just a tiring day. Look, let's get going, okay? I don't want to miss this thing."

Renee went along as he hurried out into the hot night, waiting as he got a cab, and stared at the man as he seemed to become more animated the closer they got to the seedy downtown area. When they pulled up to a store front that looked very dilapidated, with little sign of activity, she got worried. But Jack ignored her protest, threw open the door and almost ran into the filthy looking place. She sat there, wondering what he was up to now, then sighed, got out, and paid the cab. Standing there, she heard the faint echo of a drumbeat, and something strange began happening to her.

There was an aura, a presence, some sort of thick fog that enveloped her. Her nipples and her pussy tingled, as she slowly walked toward the door Jack had used. Suddenly, she was not worried about whether her dress would get dirty, what sort of terrible trouble she might be walking into, all the dangers she might face behind that door. There was only that sensed cloud of power, calling her. Demanding she embrace it.

As she entered, hearing vaguely the door close behind her, the flickering light from candles illuminated a much more bizarre setting than she had imagined. It was a small room, and there was a stone altar near the far wall. Cords of thrushes hung from the ceiling all around the room, with little images carved from wood, several on each strand, moving gently. It seemed to her they were rattling. The drumbeat was slightly louder, but seemed to resonate deeply, making her feel it's rhythm almost physically.

Jack and two large black men were kneeling in front of the altar. They were all nude, and over their shoulders she could see large cocks stiff with desire. They were staring at the doorway to the left of the altar, covered with a beaded curtain that seemed to sway with the drum. There was something familiar about it. Suddenly, she realized that the images, and the shape of the altar, reminded her of her Grandma's little corner display of toys where she had often sat to talk. It was a gristheau, that was the name of this cathedral. It felt welcoming to the seductive blonde girl.

A coal black native man stood to the right of the stone platform, dressed in a strange headdress, wearing a long thong that fell from a hip belt. He watched her carefully as she stood gaping at the tableau, then turned toward the altar. A flask and some small glasses were resting there. The man filled four of the small glasses. He handed three of them to the men, who took them and quickly drained the contents, which appeared to be a thick white liquid.

Renee felt her purse slip from her hand, as the man came toward her. He came very close, intimately, in a way that should have offended her, but instead felt welcome. In a cultured, educated voice, he whispered "Drink, beautiful American, and join our ceremony." The mesmerized blonde took the glass, and stuck the tip of her tongue into the liquor, letting its taste fill her mouth. She found it delightful, thick and hot, filling her mouth with fervor. Quickly, without thinking, she downed the contents, feeling it burn in her stomach, and that same fire spread wildly to her pussy. The drumbeat seemed ever more insistent, and she felt her hips begin tiny undulations to the iintoxicating beat, as her body seemed to grow wantonly anxious for sex.