Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (16 page)

I could not swallow, so I hung there and breathed as best I could.

“You may move now,” he said. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me down. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. Stay. I said you could move, but I didn’t say you could get up.” He went around the bed and freed my ankles.

“Turn over,” he commanded. I did as asked and I could finally swallow and clear my throat. I heard him rattling around in the armoire and waves of excitement erupted in my deepest region.

“Let me see that ass of yours,” he said.

I arched my back and got slightly on my knees so I could lift it as high as I could for him without changing my position.

“Damn, you got your asshole all nice and wet. You came all over yourself. How convenient,” he said, and shoved a large butt plug into my anus with a shot of pleasure pain. “I wish you could see what I see. Your cunt when you’re coming, it’s stunning, Nez, it’s beautiful. Like a dewy rose.”

The music from the square was unusually somber, so I went out on the balcony to see what was going on. The morning sun was warm and heavy and the air was hazy. Black people were marching in columns; some were crying and others were singing words that I did not understand. Dressed in black, some women carried fringed parasols of black lace. They held each other as they followed the small jazz band. The men carried a coffin and more people followed.

“It’s a funeral march, a real New Orleans jazz funeral,” Sunny said, and put his hand to his heart out of respect as they passed by.

Soon, though, in a trumpet blast of insanity, the music changed to a happy march that reminded me of the old Dixie jazz I usually heard at night. The trumpet riff set the people off and they began to dance like there was no tomorrow; parasols moving up and down, handkerchiefs waving in the air, the people’s cries turned to whoops and hollering. It made sense in a way that can only make sense in New Orleans. I looked at Sunny and he was dancing on the balcony in his purple silk pants.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said.

“Yep, it always is.” He grabbed my hand and twirled me around. “Ya gotta dance, Miss Nez. It’s the right thing to do.” So we danced until we could no longer hear the music.

“Why do they do that?”

“If you’re goin’ to heaven, ya may as well dance your way there,” he smiled. “Honestly, I really don’t know; maybe we’re all going to hell.”

“Ya know, Sunny, I feel bad about keeping you here. I’m sure you’ve got something else to be doing with your days.”

“I usually hang out here because I work till three or four in the morning sometimes, so it works out real well.”

“You’re always up before eight. That’s only four or five hours of sleep!”

“That was part of the agreement when Mr. Delacroix bought the bar for me; that I’d be here every morning to have breakfast with him.” He sat down at the iron table. “Having you around to keep me company is kinda nice. I don’t have too many friends other than Ty and my employees, but they aren’t really friends.”

“I guess this lifestyle doesn’t allow for having a lot of friends.”

“Oh, I dunno, later if you are granted more freedom and make an effort, but then you can’t be totally honest with them because they aren’t part of the lifestyle and they don’t understand, they think you’re a freak or something. Or they are part of the scene and you wanna keep your distance. But that’s just me. I’ve never made friends very easily, but you’re different.”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. Even if you aren’t living like we do, it’s hard to know who your real friends are,” I said.

I sat looking out over the square at all the tourists and hawkers and wondered about their lives; where they came from and where they were going, all the good people doing good people things.

“Do you ever wish things were different, Sunny?”

“I used to sometimes, but now I just look ahead. Looking back only hurts and there isn’t a damned thing any of us can do about the hand we were dealt. Not a fucking goddamned thing.”

“I suppose not. And thank god for Mr. Delacroix.”

“Yeah.” Sunny leaned back on his chair. “It’s nice out. We should take your walk.”

“My legs are sore,” I said as I rubbed my quadriceps. Sunny’s body was about as perfect as a body could get. I wondered if I would ever measure up. “What about Ty? Where is he today?”

“I bet that kid walks twenty miles a day. His physique comes naturally to him, I think. He’s got some pretty genes in his family,” Sunny said wistfully. “He’s probably at home sleeping.”

“It’s sad about his family not wanting him. I asked him about it when we first met. He said his father was in prison.”

“He raped Ty’s mom. That’s how she got pregnant with Ty and that’s why he’s in prison.” Sunny shook his head. “I can relate to Ty so much in that our parents can’t stand us for who we are, but man, Ty carries his father around like Jesus Christ carried that damned cross. No matter what I do, I can’t get Ty to forget about it. Ty believes he’s a bad seed that’ll never amount to anything, but he’s so wrong.”

“Wow, that’s heavy.”

“Yeah, I’ve never met anyone who hates himself so much for something he has no fucking control over. He’s a great guy and so smart, but he sabotages himself all the time.”

“You really care for him, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yep, he’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve got, except now you’re here. If there was anything I wish was different it’d be that Ty and I could be together.”

“What does he do? Where does he go? Why can’t you be together?”

“He’s a prostitute, so his hours are all over the place.”

“How long has he been a prostitute?”

“Ever since I’ve known him. Mr. Delacroix and I have both tried to help him get out of prostitution, but he won’t. He’s the most frustrating human being I know. I’ve offered him work at the bar, too, but he won’t take it. He thinks he deserves to be what he is. I guess this is why Mr. Delacroix won’t offer him more. He just won’t step up.”

“What’s he been offered?”

“We—well, Mr. Delacroix mostly—take care of him. He’s tested every six months and is considered part of the family; he’s loyal as all get-out except for when it comes to his lifestyle. I mean, he answers to me, mostly, and sometimes, I come close to getting him straight in the head. But then he just backs out and closes the door. He knows I love him. I’ve offered him my heart. He doesn’t think he measures up, but he could if he tried.”

“It’s nice that you all look after him.”

“Oh, we get a return on it. Thanks to Ty, if anything is going on in the street, we know about it. He knows everything about everybody, so if something’s going down, we hear about it. A few months ago, he came into the bar and told me about a guy who came into town and was setting up a prostitution ring. Just last week, he clued us in on a new street drug called crank. He just knows everything, but most important of all, he knows who is involved and they trust him. It’s just nice to know what’s going on in the underbelly of things. If I ever need anything, he’s got contacts all along the coast.”

“I guess I ran into the right guy when I came into town.”

“You sure did, but at the same time, I’m not surprised you did. Ty has a very uncanny way of figuring out when things are about to happen. I tell ya, he just knows everything.”

“Does he work for someone?”

“Sort of,” Sunny smiled. “In reality, he works for himself, but it depends on who you ask. Word on the street is that he works for me, but I’m no pimp! We just feign that so others leave him alone. Just another way we take care of him. Once you’re part of the family, you can’t be touched, and so it goes.”

“But he did give you a cut the other morning.”

“Only because I allow him to front at my place. I don’t like it, but I’d rather see him base himself there than somewhere else. I can look after him, but he pays. No such thing as a free lunch.” Sunny shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “My thing with Ty is that he won’t change his ways. The guy is so damned frustrating.”

“Maybe things will change if he comes out to Twisted Oak.”

Sunny looked at me with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The other night when Mr. Delacroix asked us if we were with him in wanting to go out there, Ty raised his glass. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, I guess I do, but I don’t take that too seriously. Ty’ll never leave the city and he’ll never go legit.”

“Let’s go to the Riverwalk,” I said. “You’re right; we need to get out of this place for a while.”

The weather warmed up, so I was dressed in a short cream-colored skirt, light green tank top with a plunging neckline, and light brown leather sandals that Mr. Delacroix had set out for me before he went on his run that morning. “No makeup,” he had said; he told me that he prefers me not to wear it because he wants to wake up with the same person he goes to bed with.

Sunny wore natural-colored linen pants and a faded blue button-down shirt with rubber flip-flops. He pulled his hair up in that thick ponytail he usually wore at the bar. “Let’s grab some beignets and coffee first. We’ll call it lunch, but we can’t make a habit of it or Mr. Delacroix will have both our asses in a sling.”

“How delightful,” I smiled.

“Stop it, you little slut. You’re in for one helluva night tonight if you keep this up.”

We made our way around the square on the church side because the mules and carriages along Decatur Street made a crowd. They were busy this time of year, with tourists lining up for rides. I’d see George out there almost every day with his white mule. He’d wave to me with his hat in hand.

“He said he’d never expect anything of me that he hasn’t already experienced.” I was looking for insight from my friend.

“Prepare yourself for absolute debasement; complete objectification of your body. You’re a walking fuck machine for him and nothing more. Here’s the mind fuck: you’re nothing but a fuck hole, or in your case, fuck holes plural. When you’re stripped down like that, when there’s nothing left of you physically, this is when you find your greatest and most powerful potential; your true self, your true strength and power.”

“Has he been stripped?”

“I dunno. You have to ask him.”

“Have you?”

“Yep.”

“And you’d do it all over again because you found your powerful center?”

“Yep, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but only with Mr. Delacroix, because he’s good. See, this is the thing with Ty. He doesn’t think he can handle it and he’s probably right considering how this rolls.”

“Is that why Collette killed herself?”

“No, cher. It’s a lot more complicated. And remember, you can get out anytime you want. She didn’t know when to leave and like I said, he made a mistake. He’s good, but he was young then, and so was she. He shouldn’t have collared her to begin with.”

“Is that what’s happening with Mrs. Scott? She’s scared to face her inner self?” The question tapped on the window of my mind:
Am I afraid?

“Not sure what’s going on there, other than Mr. Delacroix blames Mr. Scott and I tend to agree. Mr. Scott’s always been a player, but she’s different. She has challenges. You’ll see what I mean when you meet her. But I’m not sure Mr. Scott has it in him to bring someone to their fullest. That takes a special talent, and our Mr. Delacroix’s got it.”

The Riverwalk Marketplace, a shopping mall along the river, was full, as usual, the tourists and locals alike relishing the nice weather and cashing in on a good deal. Large windows facing the river lit the interior as we wandered about gift shops and t-shirt vendors.

We decided to walk outside along the river on our way back home. The riverboat’s calliope provided a surreal carnival atmosphere. Tourists were disembarking the vessel.

“I guess we should take advantage of being here while we can before the move to Twisted Oak,” I said.

“I think it’s gonna be awhile before the big move. Don’t be in a rush, either, because it’s nothing like being here.”

Was my fantasy about a utopian Twisted Oak completely out of sync with reality? “You’ll miss being here?”

“I probably won’t go. Most likely I’ll stay at the apartment.”

“I sure will miss you.”

“It’s not like you’ll never see me. Twisted Oak is only two or three hours away, and besides, my life’s here with the bar and Ty. I dunno, maybe I can get him to move in with me after you all leave and get him to go legit.”

“I hope so; he deserves a good life. But we’ll miss you. I know Mr. Delacroix will.”

We bought a cup of coffee and made our way toward the side of the mall facing the river. The light coming through the large doors glared off the tile floor. Sunlight dazzled the surface of the water.

“If I can get him to sign on with me totally, I can work with him; otherwise I doubt he’ll ever get real. And he won’t do that unless Mr. Delacroix moves out. For some reason he’s freaked out by Mr. Delacroix. I can’t figure out why.”

We stood along the railing overlooking the steep bulkhead that kept the river at bay. “I have a hunch as to why.”

“Do tell,” Sunny said, and rested his elbow on the warm metal rail. Shore birds were diving and calling to one another.

“You said Mr. Delacroix has a talent for getting us to face our demons. Ty’s just not ready, but he will be, I think, with you, because you get him. Be patient with him.”

“I know you think we’re hard on him, but it’s for his own good.”

Cyclists, joggers, dog walkers, and families passed us as we walked along the river toward the apartment. A young boy dressed in dirty clothes sat on the grass and played a guitar. Sunny tossed a dollar bill in his guitar case.

“I get that now, but he isn’t all that strong, ya know. He plays it up like he’s all good with everything but he’s not. Be kind to the man.”

“You’re nothing but a bleeding heart.”

“For Ty, you bet I am.”

“I guess I am too. Hell, he isn’t even my sub yet and he has me right where he needs me.” His smile was warm. “I really love that guy.”

We hooked a left at Jax Brewery and entered the square. The daily circus was in full late-afternoon swing. We stopped to talk with a friend of Sunny’s, a palm reader named Talisman. He was an older man with a swath of bushy gray hair and a long beard.

“Hey there, Sunny,” the man said in a surprisingly youthful voice.

“What’s going on, Tali?” They shook hands.

“Not a lot just now. Your friend want her palm read?”

“Miss Nez, this is Talisman. He’s been reading palms here since before I came to the city.”

“Nice to meet you, young lady,” he said, and reached out and shook my hand. I noticed he was sitting in a wheelchair. “Yep, I recall when Sunny first got here. He was a skinny little runt.”

“Yeah, well, Tali, you weren’t the cat’s meow either,” Sunny said.

“Never have been, kid. Not since my accident. Before, I’d be out dancin’ all night with the ladies. Life’s like that, it changes things. So, how about it, Miss Nez, you want to see what life has in store for you?”

I looked at Sunny and he shrugged. “He’s pretty good at it, from what I hear.”