Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (15 page)

I found my solitary existence comforting, but relished Sunny and Ty’s friendships. Mr. Delacroix kept precise work hours every day. He left at nine in the morning and arrived home at exactly six every weekday. Sunny and I knew, down to the minute, the amount of free time we had during the day. He and I would take walks on nice days before Sunny took his afternoon nap. Ty came around periodically in the afternoon, but his nocturnal lifestyle was not in keeping with ours. Ty was like a satellite orbiting our world. I knew he was out there looking after me, but I did not see him as much as I would have liked.

My world was small, simple, and easy to manage. Mr. Delacroix spent as much time with me as he could, considering the effort he was making toward a move to Twisted Oak, but as he said, it would take time. There was much to consider and I had grown accustomed to city living in the short four weeks I had been in the family. I was ambivalent about the move to Twisted Oak, but for the first time, I felt comfortable with myself. I had never looked forward to the future before. This was an epiphany for me.

The days went by in a haze of sunlight and warmth. The magnolia trees were in full bloom and the crepe myrtle and oleander were budding, paving the way toward summer. There was stillness in the air. My body felt healthy for the first time in my life and I began to understand Monique’s clarity of mind. My spirit was soaring.

One of Ty’s many aunties cleaned the apartment every Friday. I looked forward to her visits because she loved to talk about her family and their life in the city, not far from us but very different. She started working for a housekeeping company years ago, but soon left and went into business on her own. She had been working for Mr. Delacroix since he moved into the apartment, and before that, she worked for his father who only came to the city a few times a month.

I was sitting on the balcony watching the tourists in the square while she dusted the living room. “Auntie,” I said, because that is what we all called her, “does everyone know the Delacroix history?”

“No, baby, don’t everyone know, but those of us who work there know. My family been dere a long time, but nobody live dere no more. We lef awhile back and come to the city when I was a child, but I still work for the elder Mr. Delacroix when I got old enough after school keepin’ his apartment here. I been coming to dis place now every Friday since I be about twelve or thirteen.”

“What was he like?”

“The elder Mr. Delacroix? Oh, baby, he was a handsome man like his son, hear? He was quiet though, and didn’t do much partying, not like that Mr. Scott. I used to hate it when he come to town with Mr. Delacroix cuz dis place be a mess.”

“Did they come together often?”

“Oh yeah, I say at least once a month, if not more. After Mrs. Delacroix die, God rest her soul, they come together a lot. Some say they together too much, but I don’t pay no mind to that talk. Mr. Delacroix pay me well and I keep quiet about such things. When ya clean a man’s house, ya know things about him and that’s private business.”

“Did you know Mrs. Delacroix well?”

“Na, not really, cuz like I say, Momma lef Twisted Oak when I was a child and Mrs. Delacroix didn’t ever come here.”

“I wonder why. I love it here.”

“Baby girl, I think she rather not be in the city with Mr. Delacroix, especially when Mr. Scott here. Her family and his, well, they don’t get along so well.”

“I know, Mr. Delacroix told me that the other day. He said her family didn’t think Mr. Delacroix was good for her.”

“Mmmhmm, and truth be tole, they probly right, but he was a good man. Just not right for marryin’, I suppose. Like some mens, they better off being bachelors.”

“Why do you say that about Mr. Delacroix’s father? Was he a womanizer?”

She laughed as she picked up my pillow and stepped outside to shake it. “Naw, baby girl, everybody know it wasn’t the ladies he like.”

“Oh, I see. So he and Mr. Scott were . . .”

“Hey now, dis is gettin’ too personal, but yeah, you get my drift. Mostly when the two of ’em here, only one bed be messed up, but sometimes the whole place be tore up like they go crazy or somethin’. I never aks and dey never tell.”

“And Mrs. Delacroix never knew?”

“Now dat I can’t say cuz I don’t know her and like I say, I never aks, but Momma say Mrs. Delacroix go crazy like insane.”

“So you were around when his son, my Mr. Delacroix, was born. She wasn’t crazy then, was she?”

“I recall when he was born. Mr. Delacroix was so proud. He come and show pictures. I think things were good then for him and his wife. I saw pictures of the three of them together and dat baby always so happy. He was a good little boy, but I suppose like some mommas, things got too hard for her. Not everyone be a good momma. Some womens, they don’t need to be mommas.”

“I certainly know what you mean,” I said, reflecting on my own mother. That familiar stab of pain pierced my heart.

Auntie went back inside and put my pillow back down on the floor where she found it, no questions asked. She went about dusting the coffee table and sang softly while she worked. “
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline . . . they tryin' to wash us away.
”

“Auntie, Mr. Delacroix was only about nine when his mother died, right?”

“Yeah, about that old, but his daddy do his best. He got the best teachers for his boy and eventually he went to the best universities, thanks be to Mr. Scott. He grew up fine, but being raised by his daddy and then Mr. Scott wasn’t ideal, but dey do da best dey can by dat boy. Your Mr. Delacroix be a good man like his daddy. He reminds me so much of him.”

I followed her into the kitchen and poured us glasses of iced tea.

“You and Mr. Delacroix . . .” She paused and looked down at the rag in her hand.

“Yes, Auntie, he and I are together.”

Her look of relief was both puzzling and comical. “I’m so happy to hear it. I wasn’t sure if you was Sunny’s girl or Mr. Delacroix’s or what. Those two are about as confused as his daddy and Mr. Scott were, but I be glad to hear he doing something right. No offense to Sunny. He a good kid, but Mr. Delacroix need a woman in his life and lord knows, this place need a woman in it.” She lifted her glass in a toast to me. “You’re a good woman, Miss Nez. I’m glad you here.”

“Me too, Auntie.” Our glasses gently kissed and the ice rattled in its tea bath. “Do you know why Mrs. Delacroix died, Auntie?”

“Yeah, I got my ideas about dat and it ain’t in keepin’ with what the papers say neither. Like I say, she went crazy. Momma say she die of insanity and I got to believe my momma.”

“Do you think she killed herself?”

“I know she did.”

“Damn,” I said, “that’s terrible.”

“Ya know, Miss Nez, I hear things and I just listen. I never talk, but I figure you be around here long enough now you and me can talk,” she whispered. “I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ to nobody, ya heeah?”

“Thanks, Auntie, I won’t either. This is just between you and me.” I sipped my tea. “How’d she do it?”

“Miss, I don’t know for sure, but Momma say they find her in that room hangin’ by her neck from the ceilin’.”

“Good god!” I said.

“So you know about dat room?” she asked.

“Yes, but I’ve never been to Twisted Oak, so I haven’t seen it.”

“Me either,” she said, shaking her head. “Those folk are just plumb crazy. I’m glad your Mr. Delacroix ain’t like that.”

“Me too,” I lied. The visual of Mrs. Delacroix hanging from the ceiling of the playroom shook my senses. I wondered who found her, but I was afraid to ask for fear of putting Auntie in a compromising position. She wrung her rag in her hands and wiped the same spot on the counter repeatedly.

“Things can go terribly wrong sometimes, can’t they, Auntie?”

“Yeah, when we least expect it, too.”

I pictured Mr. Delacroix’s father finding his wife. I could not imagine the pain he must have felt, pain and guilt because he could not save her and because maybe it was his behavior that sent her over the edge.

It was then that I realized my passion. I loved reading Monique’s journals and the other history books in Mr. Delacroix’s library. I decided that studying and writing history—in particular, the family history—would be my passion. I was excited to tell Mr. Delacroix that I had something in my heart to call my own. I knew he’d be pleased, and he was.

“That’s excellent,” he said that evening as he undressed after work. “I never dreamed you would like her journals so much.”

“My lord, I do, but it’s more than that. I like all history. I never knew until now, really. I suppose I’ve never been exposed to it, not like I’ve been here. It’s everywhere in the city, in your family and Ty’s family and even Sunny’s. Everybody has an interesting history around here. This city is so historic; I guess it’s gotten me under its spell.”

“She can do that to ya, this place. Just wait till you go out to Twisted Oak. It’s got a history of its own. Parts of it haven’t been touched since my dad died. I told Mr. Scott he’s to keep it just the same.”

“Wow, my lord, nothing’s changed out there in all these years?”

“No reason to change things. It’s full of old antiques and relics, but they’ve all been preserved and maintained. You’re gonna love it.”

“That has to cost a fortune, my lord, to keep it up like that.”

“It’s worth it.”

“Sometimes I forget what year it is when I’m with you, my lord. Even this place is timeless in a way.”

“Yes, these apartments have been here since 1840 or so. They’re the oldest apartments still in existence in America.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed.

He leaped onto the bed next to me and pinned my arms down. “Wow
what
, Nez?”

“Wowee,” I laughed.

He sucked on my nipple hard. “Say that again and I might have to punish you.”

“Wowee!” I said as I spread my legs.

“Now you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?”

“You surly little bitch,” he said. He rose to his knees and flipped me over on my stomach. Before I knew it, my feet were tied to the bedposts and he was binding my hands together above my head. “Keep them up there, Nez.”

“Yes, sir,” I giggled.

“Good girl.” He shoved all the pillows under my midsection and began to pat my ass slowly and softly, which drove me mad.

“Please, my lord,” I begged as I tried harder to raise my backside higher.

He spanked with an upward motion, licking my labia with his hand, but I could not move because my feet were bound. It stung.

“You like that?” he said as he rubbed my ass gently.

“Yes, my lord.”

Whack! Whack!
Twice on the same side. “Nice and rosy your cheeks are.”
Whack!
The other side now.

“My lord.” He smacked me up in the middle again, and I swelled with longing. “Please.”

“Nope, not this time. You’re gonna walk around all evening with a girl hard-on.” He whacked me twice more in the middle, each time hitting me more directly on my swollen parts.

I started to struggle against the ropes in hopes that it would release the tension and he smacked me again. “Sir, please, I need it.”

“Hell yes, you do, but not tonight. You’re in big trouble. Besides, you wiggle too much.”

Another smack and then he tickled and teased my clit to the point of madness.

“Sir, please, this isn’t fair.”

“Nobody said life was fair, my dear.” He pinched this time with just enough pressure to make my vagina ache for him. I was disappointed when he untied my feet. “You talk too much. Roll over.”

I lay flat on my back with my hands above my head. He got off the bed and guided me by pulling my hair to the edge of the bed, letting my head and shoulders fall over the side. I watched him upside down until he was out of sight. He walked around to the other side of the bed and secured my feet to each bedpost with long ropes. The blood was beginning to rush to my head. I closed my eyes imagining what he would do next.

“Open up,” he said.

I opened my eyes to see him upside down in front of my face. He had dropped his red silk pants. “Not your eyes, Nez, your mouth.”

I opened my mouth as wide as possible and he proceeded to fuck my throat. I was insane with longing. I wished so hard that he was fucking my vagina and the thought of it made me come like crazy. I was moaning between thrusts and found it hard to catch my breath. Would he suffocate me this time? The feeling was exhilarating and when I saw him smile, I knew he understood my pleasure. He pinched my nipples and flicked them with his fingertips, making them sting and stand at attention.

“Don’t have anything to say now, do you?”

I tried to agree with him and he shoved his cock in further.

“You’re wiggling. Hold still.”

I tried to stay as still as possible.

“I just don’t get how you can fully enjoy me when you’re all squirmy. Now hold still, Nez. Stop it!” He slapped my breast and I worked hard to relax as I had when he’d used the beads. I found that he was right. When I was fully relaxed, I could feel more of him in me. The pleasure multiplied. I opened my mouth wider for him.

“See? There you go. See how much better it is?” He continued his rhythm, finding the back of my throat. I found I could breathe between thrusts when I relaxed. I remembered Monique’s comments about satisfying oral sex; she may have been correct, but I longed for him to fuck me.

He pinched my breast. “Where are you going, Miss Nez?” I spiraled back from my thoughts. “Don’t think of anything but my dick choking the shit out of you.”

My vagina dripped and I felt the dampness on the sheets beneath me. He thrust into me deeply and held it there until I was certain I would pass out. Familiar panic rose up in me, but I feared he would hit my breast again if I moved. Finally, he pulled back, allowing me to breathe. I was panting between thrusts now and he moved his hand over my labia and pinched my clit.

“You’re so wet, my dear,” he said, and jammed his cock into my throat and came; the sweet, salty cream coated my throat and I tasted it as it dripped through my mouth and onto my face.

His release was complete as he moaned, “I like you like this.” I was silent because my mouth was full and it wasn’t easy to swallow in that position. “Cat got your tongue?” he giggled. He backed away from me and enjoyed watching me struggle. “Finish swallowing it. Drink up, my love.”