Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (23 page)

The clock read 7:30. Mr. Delacroix sat on the sofa in silence. His eyes were closed as if in meditation. I thought he was asleep and wondered how someone could sleep at a time like this, until he stood abruptly. “I guess it’s time to go,” he said and stretched his arms. So relaxed and nonchalant. I was a basket of live wires.

He went to the bedroom and came out with a big hat and a dress I had never seen before.

“Make sure you put the hat on so you won’t be recognized. I want you to sit on the balcony and watch everything.” He placed the hat on my head. “If you see me or Sunny or Ty jump up and down three times, come in and call the police. The jumping means we’re in trouble and you have to act immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I was shaking.

“Don’t worry, kid. It won’t happen. Like I say, we’ve done this before and it always works. I see no reason for it to be different this time. I usually have a man up here looking out as a backup, but we never need it. Nezzie, I trust you to do the right thing if we get in trouble. Do you understand? Can I trust you?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“We’re in this for you, ya know. You’re the main part of it.”

“I’m in, sir. I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

He tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans and slipped his jacket over his shoulders. He checked to make sure my letter was in the inside pocket. “Nothing will go wrong, love. Just sit and watch.” He kissed my forehead and grabbed a walking cane from the umbrella stand as he left.

I went to the bedroom and put the dress on. I situated the hat on my head so it shaded my face and went out on the balcony to watch. The sun was low on the horizon, and golden light stretched across Andrew Jackson’s horse. I saw Ty and a very large black man standing at the gate in front of the cathedral. Sunny and another white man stood sentry at the gate along Decatur Street. George was there with his mule and carriage; it looked like he was ready to stay until the mission was complete. Tali was sitting in his wheelchair talking to some artists that were packing up their work for the day. Ty was right when he said everyone in the square would be on call to help us.

Iron fencing eight feet tall surrounded the rest of the inner square. If Steve was dumb enough to enter, he deserved what he got. The atmosphere was ripe with excitement, at least for the locals. The tourists carried on in ignorant bliss.

Mr. Delacroix entered the square through the Decatur gate. None of the men acknowledged one another. Mr. Delacroix leaned against the iron fencing surrounding the statue. A couple minutes passed and I saw Steve and his friend enter through the same gate. Ty let out a yelp as if he were cheering for the buskers playing in front of the cathedral, but this was his signal to Mr. Delacroix that Steve was in the square.

Mr. Delacroix swung the cane in front of him, apparently a signal to Steve that he was the connection. I watched in fascination. It was all so well rehearsed. Ty and his partner blocked their gateway and Sunny and his partner did the same. Steve was trapped and did not even know it.

George took his hat off and pretended to be looking at the cathedral. He noticed me and quickly turned his head. Mr. Delacroix shook Steve’s hand and they seemed to be carrying on a cordial conversation. Steve nodded and Mr. Delacroix smiled and directed the two men to sit on the bench, but Mr. Delacroix remained standing, swinging his cane. It reminded me of the way he swung the riding crop. He exuded dominance as he listened to Steve speak and he nodded once or twice before handing Steve what looked like an old-fashioned metal lunchbox. When he unzipped the front of his jacket to retrieve my letter, his gun was in plain sight.

Steve’s friend fidgeted, and I followed his gaze toward the church. Two policemen were in front of the cathedral doors, watching the exchange from atop their horses. When I looked back to where Mr. Delacroix was standing, the cane had somehow turned into a blade. The steel reflected the late-day golden light as he pointed it toward the Decatur gate.

Steve stood, his head darting from one direction to the other, and the men standing at the gates made their presence known. A long, sleek black limousine pulled up next to George’s carriage and Mr. Delacroix followed Steve and his friend out of the square; Sunny and his partner fell in line to escort Steve and his friend into the car.

I could not see very well because George was in the way, but Sunny and the other man stood on either side of Mr. Delacroix while he leaned over the open car door and spoke to the men inside. A half a minute later, the car pulled out onto the busy street and out of sight.

I leaned back in relief and watched Sunny, his partner, and Mr. Delacroix walk around the square to meet the mounted police officers directly under the apartment balcony. Mr. Delacroix gave me a thumbs-up and smiled. He handed each of the cops and Sunny and his partner an envelope. Ty and his partner walked up and got theirs as well. It was as if a heavy blanket lifted from the square. The hawkers started their shows again and the artists packed up and gave way to the palm readers and beggars. The tourists were none the wiser.

“See ya around, Delacroix. Glad to be of assistance,” one of the cops said as he rode back toward the church. The two big, bad men walked in opposite directions and Ty pushed the buzzer at the apartment gate. I looked at the clock; it was 8:05.

The three of them rushed in like boys back from an adventure. I ran and hugged Mr. Delacroix and he hugged me back.

“Did you see the fuckin’ look on that asshole’s face?” Sunny said as he opened the fridge. “You guys want a beer?” He handed one to Ty.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said as he put the walking cane back in the umbrella stand, “I don’t think your boys will be comin’ back anytime soon.”

“What did you say to them, sir?” I asked, and went to the umbrella stand to examine the cane. It was ornate, with a wolf’s head on the handle atop a long shiny black shaft. Mr. Delacroix came to me and demonstrated how it worked. With a flip of a small catch, the blade easily slid out of the shaft. It was long, thin, and very sharp. I pulled it all the way out and held it in my hand, gazing at the blade. “Is this legal?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Mr. Delacroix said. “As far as your boys go, they get the drift; New Orleans isn’t the place for them. They won’t be coming back.”

“Thank you, sir.” I put the cane back in the stand and he handed me a beer.

“I wish I had a camera when Mr. Delacroix opened the car door,” Sunny laughed. “I thought the one guy, not Steve, but the other one, would piss his pants.”

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said, “Steve told me your mom was okay. He confessed that he owed the money to someone, which is why he came looking for it.”

“Typical, sir,” I said.

“He said he’d deliver the letter. He promised he would even before he was threatened, so I think you can rest knowing your mom will get your note.”

“How do we know they’ll leave, sir? For all I know he’ll come back for more money.”

“Oh, they won’t be back for fear of being set up.”

Ty chimed in. “I think they was freaked out when I approached them earlier. I told them that I knew where they were cuz I been tailin’ ’em since they got here. I told ’em I got eyes and ears everywhere and that I know who they are, where they come from, and why they here. I told them the cops were looking for them because word on the street is they killed somebody when a deal went bad. I said I know who they killed and why.” He laughed. “They ain’t too bright, are they, Miss Nez? Cuz they believe every word I say.”

“Miss Nez, believe it or not, our Ty here can be convincing with folks on the street,” Mr. Delacroix said. “He’s smart and has influence and he uses it well. Sometimes it’s good to have friends in low places.”

Ty smiled. “I told them two that they were like wounded fish floating around a shark tank not knowin’ where they are or who they dealin’ with. They lucky they ain’t been ate up yet.” Ty pointed to Mr. Delacroix and smiled proudly. “I say to them it’s best for their health to take what he give ’em and never come back.”

“Are you sure they left?” I asked.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix replied, “my men took them away at gunpoint. They know full well that if they don’t leave town, they’ll be dead or framed for a terrible crime. Those two losers are not coming back.” He sipped his beer. “You won’t ever see him again if you don’t want to.”

At long last, I would go to Twisted Oak. “For the entire week, sir?” I asked Mr. Delacroix in the days leading up to our departure.

“Depends on how it goes. I want you to get used to it before we move, so we’ll be spending more time there as the weeks go by. I want the Scotts to get used to our presence. It’ll be an adjustment for them, especially Mrs. Scott.”

“I’m confused, my lord. Is Mr. Scott still your dom? How do I proceed? What’s my role there?”

“Good question, my smart, cerebral Nezzie,” he smiled. “You’re right, he’s no longer my dom. This week I’ll be thirty and, as Mr. Scott said the other day, Twisted Oak is waiting for me. When I’m there, I’m the captain of the ship, so the Scotts will be calling me Mr. Delacroix just like you do. You may call them by their first names, Jackson and Marie-Louise, and I’ll have to remember to do the same after years of training otherwise.”

I must have gotten a funny look on my face because he went on to explain, “The pecking order in this is important, especially with Marie-Louise. Jackson gets it. His contract with my father is legally binding as per the family trust and my father’s will. He understands fully that he’s expected to step down, and if he doesn’t, he can be written off legally. Personally, I think it’s a relief for him. He wasn’t meant to run things forever. He doesn’t have it in him. He’s a natural submissive and as a result, he’s not a good dom or a good manager. He’s made some questionable decisions and Marie-Louise is—” He stopped to ponder his phrasing. “Just put it this way: Marie-Louise lacks proper guidance.”

“I’m not sure I understand, my lord,” I said, “but I’m sure it will become clear.”

“Oh Nezzie, it’ll be clear from the moment you meet her. Imagine this: Let’s say I brought you into this lifestyle and totally debased you, did all the things I have done to you physically but worse, and offered you no incentive for self-realization or discipline, no avenue for exploring your inner strength and beauty of character. Imagine if I allowed your most basic hedonistic instincts to run the show. Imagine, Nezzie, not having any rules to govern your processes.”

I sat for a while trying to imagine it, but I could not. “No rules, sir? So if I wanted to go over to Ty or Sunny and do something, whatever my imagination wanted, you’d just let me?”

“It’s more insidious than that; it’s like he gets off on her confusion. In his heart, Jackson’s gay. He really doesn’t get into women all that much. So she’s allowed too much idle time. He really doesn’t care what she does.”

“Then why did he even take her, my lord? It seems cruel to dominate someone you don’t even want.”

“It is Nezzie, very cruel. He said he got her for me. That night when I came home from school, he told me she was for me.” Mr. Delacroix’s sad eyes were of the bluest blues. His voice came to a whisper. “He left us alone and that’s when I completely lost control. It was terrible.” He sighed and put his head back. “I’m so ashamed. I made him keep her out of decency and obligation.” He paused in reflection. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, but what else could we do? You’ll understand when you see her, but his bad decision led to so many more, including mine.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said.

“And so here we are all these years later with some real damaged goods. Don’t get me wrong, Marie-Louise is a good person, but you’ll see what I mean.”

“Is there anything I should know regarding how to treat her, my lord?”

He sighed. “Just be patient with her. She’s an open book, almost childlike in her honesty, but she has a one-track mind. You need to know she signed on with Jackson when she was only twelve. Can you imagine how you would be if you experienced all this at the age of twelve? And your experience has been quite tame compared to hers. She was a child then and she is still a child; Jackson’s kept her that way.”

“Twelve? For god’s sake, my lord, that’s appalling!”

“Like I said, bad decisions, but don’t judge Jackson too harshly. The age of consent in the state of Louisiana is still only twelve years old, and Jackson got her out of a pretty bad situation.”

“Like out of the frying pan and into the fire, it sounds like, sir.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but we can’t change the past. Jackson’s tried at restitution, but he’s struggling, has been since my dad died. Twisted Oak will never turn its back on Marie-Louise and you need to know that I’ll always love Jackson. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

Sunny strummed awhile, and then asked, “Will Ty and I be coming with you to the farm, sir?”

“Not this time, Sunny.”

Ty shot me a worried look. I read his mind. He was nervous about me being away with Mr. Delacroix. I gave him a smile to let him know I would be okay.

Mr. Delacroix continued, “I think it wise to take things slow, especially with Marie-Louise. Let them adjust to Nezzie and me for a while first. Jackson and I still have some ironing out to do. It’s just logistics at this point, really.”

“I understand, sir,” Sunny said. “I hope Missus, I mean Marie-Louise, will be okay.”

“Me too, Sunny,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I think with patience and kindness she’ll adjust, but no doubt it’ll take time.”

“She kinda freak me out when I was there,” Ty said.

“My darling,” Sunny said, “she has a tendency to do that to people. That’s her MO and she does it well.”

“Sunny, I think it is more than just an MO,” Mr. Delacroix said with those gunmetal eyes, “but we can’t judge her harshly. She’s this way for a reason. Everyone deserves respect. Ty, you of all people must remember that.”

“Yes, sir,” Ty said.

“My lord,” I said, “I wonder how I’ll adjust to having another woman in the house.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ve always been a tomboy. Most of my friends growing up were boys. I’ve just done better with men.”

He laughed. “Yes, my little slut, you do very well with men.” He grew serious. “Sweet girl, not everyone’s your mother. Women are good, kind, loyal, and strong. You’ll probably like the companionship. Did you read Monique’s writings about her Na’nie?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“She’ll help you understand.”

“My lord?” I asked as he packed our suitcases.

“Yes, Nez?” He pulled the covers back and spread my legs with his hand. “Keep them spread for me.”

“Yes, sir.” I spread my legs as wide as I could, putting the soles of my feet together.

“Good girl. What do you need to know?”

“Lord, it seems to me that Monique was clearly in the dominant position with Na’nie. Am I to be with Marie-Louise?”

He examined my vagina. “Apparently, you got off on that idea,” he said with a smile. “You’re dripping again.”

“Yes, sir,” I admitted, though I wanted him.

“No, you’re not dominant, you are my submissive; therefore, you answer to my commands only, not to Marie-Louise or Jackson, and you are in no position to give commands whatsoever to anyone unless I say so. For now, you are her equal as you are Sunny or Ty’s. I’ll tell you what’s expected, but I remind you to be ready for anything. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I must have sounded a little disappointed.

“Nezzie, I see in you great potential to dominate, but you aren’t ready. Trust me. When you’re ready, I’ll know. Listen to me and the rewards will be great. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“No, sir, but . . .”

“Nezzie, no buts.”

“I’m afraid, sir.”

“Of what?” He came to my side and sat patiently.

“What if she tries to dominate me?”

“Dominate me
what
?” A smart slap to my left breast.

Tears began to well up. “My lord.”

“I allow you to read Monique’s journals as a kindness, but I’ll take them away if they encourage you to disobey me.” He took the journal from my hands and shoved them in the bag. “These are a privilege, not a right, a learning tool that I choose to give you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t push it, Nez. Do you need another reminder of your position here?”

The rush of fluid to my groin was unmistakable. My insides waited for what came next.

“Yes, sir,” I said, wanting punishment. I deserved it after questioning his authority after the fine day he had given me.

“Roll over and keep your legs open. Your ass is mine. Your pussy is mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rolled over and spread my legs. He lifted me up on my knees so my ass was in the air. I felt silken ropes travel around my right knee as he secured it to the bed frame. He did the same with my left, spreading me wide. He bound my wrists together and secured them to the headboard. I was drawn, suppliant, and vulnerable as he pressed the back of my neck down into the bed with his right hand and lifted my midsection with his left, thumb in my anus and two fingers in my vagina.

“This is your position, nothing more.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice muffled into the mattress.

He shook my midsection with his inserted fingers; it gave me a thrill, a tingling thrill that began at the soles of my feet. He abruptly with-drew his fingers. “You don’t deserve an orgasm. If you come, you’ll be sorry.”

He left me in that position until he was through packing bags for our trip. He untied my knees and turned me over, twisting my wrists in the bindings.

“Maybe I’ve made a mistake in giving you all her journals at once.”

“No, sir, I promise I understand now. I answer to you, not them.”

“I know you want to please me,” he said.

“I do, my lord. More than you know. I know how important it is to you to show Jackson and Marie-Louise that you’re ready to go home to Twisted Oak. My lord, do you know how honored I am to be part of it?”

“Show me,” he said.

Not sure what he meant, I turned myself back over and spread my legs, giving him access to my body for any pleasure he may want. I did not know how else to show him how totally I belonged to him.

His hand reached up inside me and pushed forward toward my belly, touching something that created pleasure mixed with mirth. I could not process my confusion of wanting to close my legs and open them at the same time. I was nothing in that touch; enslaved to his hand I would follow him to hell.

“Good girl. Don’t forget who’s captain of this ship, little lady.” He pushed harder for a moment and released me, spanking me hard with his wet hand. I elevated my ass as best I could.

“That’s better,” he said as he jammed his hand in again and pressed, bringing me to the brink of hysteria. “You’re mine to shape and mold as I see fit.” He released me and spanked harder. Familiar stirrings deep inside me foretold the orgasm to come. He smacked my ass again. “No orgasm, Nezzie.”

“Yes, sir,” I cried.

“Turn over,” he commanded.

I quickly followed his command; just as I lay back, he slapped my breasts.

“I can make you cry and beg like a little whore. Don’t you ever forget that you’re my whore, no one else’s,” he said with another slap. “Cry now. I deserve your tears, you little slut.” He straddled me, holding me down with his weight.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

“Cry, Nezzie, and think about how easy this punishment is for you. This is nothing compared to what Marie-Louise went through, so you’ll be kind to her and you’ll always follow my instructions no matter where we are or who we’re with, unless you’d like a taste of where she’s been. If you want cruelty, Nezzie, I can give it in spades. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He rubbed my breasts hard. His eyes were menacing as he examined my face. “Do you understand? You are below me.”