Southern Spirits

by Edie Bingham

  ‘Uh-huh. Sounds like quite a guy.’

  She rested her chin on her hand, grinning. ‘Pity he wasn’t real.’

  ‘Pity. You hung over?’

  ‘Just hungry. How about you go out and bring back some breakfast?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Of course. You: big hunter-gatherer, me: helpless female.’ She glanced down, just enough to reveal the upper halves of her breasts. ‘I can’t go out. Look at me.’

  ‘Yeah, look at you.’ He grunted, rising. ‘“Helpless female”, my ass.’ Then he stopped at the knock on the door. He looked to Cat, who quickly sat up, securing the sheet around her before he answered it. ‘Yes?’

  A buxom young redhead, one of the train staff, stood there in a skimpy black uniform. ‘Ms Montoya, Mr Ames, Mr Wheeler requests your urgent presence this morning.’

  Nathan frowned. ‘Urgent? Does he know what time it is?’

  ‘I expect so, sir, but all he ordered me to do was escort you there as soon as possible. And to inform you that dress was very casual.’

  ‘“Very casual”?’

  The woman smiled, taking a moment to look Nathan over. ‘That usually means whatever you wear to bed.’

  Nathan nodded. ‘Wait out here, please.’ He closed the door as the woman departed, and fixed his gaze on Cat, his voice low. ‘Well?’

  Cat swallowed, her thoughts racing. ‘“Well” what? You think I gave something away, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, you were drunk.’

  ‘I think if something had gone wrong he’d be asking us to pack our bags. And not show up in our skivvies.’ Still, her mind raced back to last night, to the kitchen, and Wheeler down between her legs . . . Dios, that had been satisfying, though not as much as the time she had with Nate after . . .

  ‘Perhaps. Best be ready regardless.’

  ‘I’m always ready, Hound.’

  ‘I’ll bet. Well, I don’t run when Wheeler snaps his fingers, I’m gonna shower first. Don’t suppose you wanna join me before you go? Just to save time and hot water?’

  ‘Just hurry up.’ She smiled as he disappeared into the bathroom, listened to the water running, remembered with delight the weight of him on her, how Enrique – puta! What the fuck was going on in her head? The dreams again. They had to mean something. Perhaps some half-remembered, subconscious facts about this case, ones her memory was bidding her recollect?

  She rose, keeping the sheet wrapped around her, and retrieved her phone. ‘Buenos dias, Gordy.’

  A groggy voice replied, ‘Mmm? Catalina? Is that you, chica?’ Then the familiar lasciviousness returned. ‘Oh my God! What happened last night with you and Hound? I want details, figures, videos!’

  ‘And I want you to do some searching for me, regarding an Italian mobster from Chicago, active in the 1950s, known as Mickey Whisper.’ Her brain struggled to recall the other facts from her dreams. ‘He married a girl from New Orleans called Valentina. There was also a local man he hired as a bodyguard, Enrique, nicknamed Frenchie.’

  ‘Some wiseguy, his squeeze and his muscle from fifty years ago? Are you serious? Talk about a waste of my considerable talents.’

  ‘Also, find me everything you can about someone named . . . Mamselle Belagrís. No matter how ridiculous it sounds.’

  ‘Oh sure, anything else?’

  She dropped her sheet. ‘Would it motivate you if you knew I was naked right now?’

  ‘Bullshit.’ But he couldn’t keep the interest from his voice.

  She ignored her bra and reached for her panties. ‘I swear, it’s true. And I’m running my hands over my body even as we speak.’

  ‘Send a photo to prove it.’

  ‘Just get to work, Gordy.’ She hung up, looked around to decide what might classify as ‘very casual’ to someone like Wheeler.

  Cat chose a new royal-blue shoestring camisole top with embroidered lace along the edge and matching French panties, something she found she looked very distracting in, especially to judge from Nathan’s reaction, who’d chosen a more modest, simple black T-shirt and cotton boxers for himself.

  The woman had delivered them, not to Wheeler’s office as Cat had expected, but to one of the games carriages, a private area labelled THE DUNGEON, bedecked with stocks, pillories, alcoves and furniture that looked more at home in a gym than here. Simulated stone covered the windowless walls, and torches on the walls were burning and crackling, though there was a smell of butane which confirmed they were gas-operated.

  Wheeler sat on a raised high-backed chair like some fallen prince, dressed in an old-fashioned white silk shirt, half-opened to reveal curls of blond hair in the centre of an otherwise smooth-looking chest, black trousers and shiny leather boots. ‘My friends, apologies for summoning you at this ungodly hour of the morning, but an urgent matter has arisen that simply couldn’t wait.’

  Beside Cat, Nathan stepped forwards, and she could almost feel his protective aura. ‘I think I know what this is about. I left Ms Scott tied up in your office last night, after she insulted Cat. I should apologise.’

  Cat turned to him, seeing an attempt to defuse a potential situation. And she took it, punching his arm, letting out her feelings in over-the-top fashion. ‘cabrón! You do that to our hostess, after the courtesies they’ve extended to us?’

  ‘I was defending you!’ he replied, wincing at her attack.

  ‘Please, no more violence,’ Wheeler requested. ‘I knew of this already. She deserved what she got. That’s not why you’re here. I possess an inherently suspicious nature, a nature that my questionable background has nurtured. And speaking of questionable backgrounds, let’s talk about yours.’

  Cat blinked, her stomach twisting. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Yours and Mr Ames’, assuming those are your real names. I have access to outside resources with considerable IT experience and dubious ethics. He dug deep into your credit history and related information, and found enough discrepancies to endorse my suspicions. Further, my wireless internet network picked up a signal last night from a rogue cellphone. I narrowed the phone’s signal to your berth.’ He paused to sip at his champagne. ‘Care to elucidate?’

  Cat’s stomach stopped twisting, preferring to simply plummet into her feet. They’d had peripheral false identities set up in their own names, given the low-level nature of their mission, and the risk of discovery, though slim, was present. And then there was the phone, which had also been risky, but seemingly worth the risk.

  She looked to Nathan. ‘Looks like we’ve been found out, Hound.’

  He nodded, crossed his arms and grunted. ‘You wanna fess up, or shall I?’

  Cat breathed in, forcing herself to appear calm, if somewhat annoyed at being forced into this action. ‘Nathan and I aren’t ordinary passengers. We’re . . . freelance operatives.’

  Wheeler stared. ‘Like Belle, that term can cover a lot of ground.’

  ‘We work undercover, usually specialising in corporate espionage,’ Nathan replied.

  Now Wheeler smirked. ‘Investigating or committing?’

  ‘Both, when the price is right.’ Cat moved in place, affecting her body language to project truthfulness. ‘Certain parties hired us to board your train and ascertain your business’s potential for concealed lateral investment.’

  ‘In plain English, money laundering. And who are your supposed employers?’

  Now Nathan piped up, ‘If they’d wanted their identities revealed now, they would have approached you directly. We can say that if you’re willing, and if it’s worked right, it could net you a profit of up to a hundred grand a year.’

  Wheeler took in the offer, drinking from a champagne flute on an adjacent table. But then he declared, ‘I’m an honest businessman. How do I know you’re not reporters or police officers?’

  Cat rolled her eyes. ‘We’re not cops. If we were, then our denying it now will mean we can be accused of entrapment if we entice you to commit a crime.’ That was a common urban legend, she knew, otherwise there
’d never be any undercover operations, but she ran with it. ‘And if we’re reporters, we’d get a much better story from you by being open with you.’ She paused, breathing in deeply. ‘Contact your source, and have them confirm the stint I did in Alderson Prison Camp in West Virginia, three years ago. Nine months’ stretch, industrial secrets theft.’

  ‘A jailbird?’ Wheeler teased. ‘And in the wilds of West Virginia, too. It must have been an arduous experience.’

  Cat shrugged, glad that the Department’s IT people planted additional layers to their covers, enough to explain away any discrepancies found. It was a half-lie, something almost as strong as the truth. ‘Only in the showers.’

  Their host stared a moment longer. Then smiled with relief. ‘Actually, that was already confirmed.’ He finished his drink, set it back on the table, which also held bottles of massage oils and lubricants. ‘Your story . . . makes sense. Not that I’m saying I’m interested in breaking the law, of course. But I’m glad I won’t have to throw you out into the middle of the wilderness.’ He rose to his feet, drew closer to them, his eyes moving with obvious interest over Cat in her underwear. ‘However, you did break the rules by keeping your phone. You really should be punished for that.’ He met her gaze. ‘I suspected it’s yours, Catalina.’

  ‘So you think you should punish me? Now there’s a surprise.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Besame el culo’

  He shrugged. ‘Then you should pack your bags right now. We’re about eight miles from the nearest town, it shouldn’t take you more than a couple of hours in the August heat.’

  Nathan drew up close behind her, putting his hands on her upper arms and staring at Wheeler. ‘You’re not punishing her, pal.’ He turned her away from Wheeler, to face him. ‘She’s mine. That’s my job.’

  She looked up at him, confused. ‘Excuse me?’

  He kept staring into her eyes, his hand moving up to stroke her cheek, snaking along to the back of her head, cradling it, his expression deliciously confident and dominant as he stared back. ‘She’s always been a wildcat. But sometimes she needs to be reminded who’s in charge.’ Nathan was still speaking to Wheeler, but Cat knew the words were meant for her, a challenge to maintain their cover as long-time lovers and to keep Wheeler distracted and willing to let them stay onboard for a while longer.

  It was a challenge she accepted. ‘Hah! You think you’re in charge? You can bite my ass after you kiss it.’

  ‘Soon.’ Then he was pulling her to him, possessing her lips hungrily, and she moaned into his mouth with a sudden rush of desire at the feel of his tongue as it moved, invaded her mouth, his lips hot and pliant and both sapping her token resistance and galvanising her. She pressed up against him, mindful not only of the growing hardness she felt in his boxers, but of Wheeler’s proximity. From the corner of her eye, she saw him approach.

  And, apparently, so did Nathan, because he suddenly pulled back from her mouth and made her face Wheeler. Nate was directly behind her, one arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side and leaving her gasping for more of his lips. He looked over her shoulder at Wheeler. ‘No. You may be our host and we may owe you a forfeit for breaking the rules, but you only get to watch, not touch. I told you she was mine.’

  The craving in Nathan’s words, so obvious and true beyond their cover identities, sent thrills through Cat, but she still kept up her side of it. ‘I’m not anybody’s, cabrón.’

  Nathan’s free hand slapped her right buttock, making a wonderfully audible slap to accompany the feelings it gave her. He still stared at Wheeler. ‘Well, Jack? Agreed?’

  Wheeler smiled. ‘Agreed.’ He moved to another chair by a wall, took it and swung it around so that he could sit on it backwards, arms folded over its back. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘I will.’ The hand that had just slapped Cat’s rear now moved around the front. The pair stood there, facing their audience of one, and Cat gasped as Nathan’s free hand moved up, caressed her breasts through her camisole, fingers playing with her nipples as they began hardening, standing up beneath the silken material. Nathan’s lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping her as she arched her head to the other side, giving him more room. And her eyes stayed on Wheeler, who had to make obvious adjustments in his seating position. Having him there, watching, knowing how much he wanted her, added such spice to her already potent feelings. Nathan’s hand slipped beneath the elastic waistband of her fluted French panties, down to her bush, stroking the hairs as he cupped her mound, his middle finger teasing her folds, steadily stroking.

  He withdrew his hand, brought it up to her mouth. ‘Moisten it.’

  She caught her scent, then parted her lips and took his finger in her mouth, running her tongue along its length and coating it with her saliva.

  He returned it to her pussy, this time opening her, piercing her.

  The room had grown deathly quiet, especially with the train having stopped. Nathan’s finger stroked her clit softly while she ground against him, still in his tight embrace, her nipples aching now inside her camisole, missing the attention they had been receiving before. She looked down to see his hand inside her panties, looking as obscenely rude and wonderful as it felt, as his middle finger penetrated her deeply, curving up to touch her G-spot, while the base of his hand pressed against her clit. His actions encouraged her sex to swell, carrying her closer to a climax. And she was rising, growing hotter and higher, like a rocket reaching its zenith.

  Wheeler breathed in audibly, and Cat watched him watching her, glad he was there, glad he wasn’t involved any further. She pushed her rear against Nathan’s bulge, as he nipped at her lobe, letting his tongue dart inside her ear.

  With a long moan, she reached the summit, punctuated with a sharp, ‘Puta!’

  The strength briefly left her, but Nathan held her up, until he withdrew his hand from the front of her panties and carefully helped her over to a low metal stool with two padded areas, a narrow area lower to the ground, a larger area higher and angled away from the ground. ‘Straddle it, bend forwards.’

  Cat swayed there in post-coital bliss as if still drunk from last night, smirking and offering him her middle finger.

  Nathan smirked back, and gently but firmly guided her down onto her knees on the smaller padded area, bending her forwards until she rested on the larger area. He knelt before her, taking her wrists and guiding them to the legs of the kneeling stool, watching her for some sign, any sign – a silent invitation to back out now.

  Instead, she stared defiantly at him, to do his worst – or better yet, his best.

  He slipped her wrists into leather hoops already positioned there; she watched, seeing how he ensured she could free herself with a simple twist of her wrists, if necessary. She heard him walk around, stand behind her. He stroked her bum through her panties and then peeled her panties down to her knees. Cat felt a flutter in her belly as she was exposed, feeling more naked like this than if he’d stripped her completely. Her ass felt cool, but her sex felt hot, her pussy lips pouting, especially as Nathan’s hand drifted down between her cheeks and stroked her gently along her slit. She turned her head as she heard Wheeler rise and move his chair around to get a better view of her.

  A sharp slap of Nathan’s hand on her right buttock made her yelp loudly. ‘Fucker! That hurt!’

  ‘Good.’ She felt his hand return, striking several times in succession, offering just the right amount of force in the right places, making deliciously rude sounds against her warming flesh and sending pleasurable sensations up her thighs and into her sex. Her belly pressed against the leather padding; she wasn’t uncomfortable, but she was certainly helpless – at least, ostensibly. Cat was amazed by her own level of excitement at it.

  And then Nathan stopped and reached once more between her burning cheeks to her pussy, thrusting deep inside and drawing out her juices, drawing them up along the strip of skin between her sex and her anus – and then massaging there as well. Cat was overcome by the inten
sity of the sensations there now.

  He was teasing her. And it made her look up from beneath her hair and snarl, ‘Come on, Nathan, get that cock in my pussy!’

  ‘Jack, can you get me some lube, please?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Ames.’

  Cat gasped. ‘I’m wet, cabrón, I don’t need lube!’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Nathan’s hands held her buttocks, spreading them apart as Wheeler returned. As Cat dropped her head down again, she felt the cool viscous substance run down the cleft of her buttocks. Moments later, she felt his finger working at the tiny entrance to her rear.

  ‘No,’ she said sharply. She felt a shudder – though not from fear. That pajiero knew how intense it would be for her. ‘No fucking way!’

  ‘Oh, now I want it twice as much,’ he said quietly, underlined with the sounds of him lowering his boxers, before lubricating the length of his shaft.

  The desire in his voice, genuine and potent, excited her. It was the most exciting thing about fucking Nathan, how he obviously desired her so much. Their situation was forgotten. Wheeler was forgotten.

  ‘Fucker,’ was all she finally said, a soft surrender.

  He pressed forwards. Cat felt the little ring of muscles at her entrance resist and, for an instant, she had the desire to pull away, but resisted. Those times she’d had anal sex, or used one of her vibrators there, there was always a little bit of pain, but she knew it would pass quickly.

  Nathan pressed forwards again slowly sinking into her.

  Cat felt a shock of sensation that almost took her breath away. She rode the initial scream of protest from her nerves, rode it until it translated into a wide, all-encompassing surge of pleasure that she rarely met. It was a pleasure on the same wavelength as pain, and of the same incredible intensity, one barely indistinguishable from the other.

  Cat braced herself, as she realised that Nathan had barely penetrated her at all, and was ready for more.

  His hands, smeared with lubricant, grasped her hips sharply, as he pushed further forwards, the breadth of him stretching her, the sensation furthered by the inclusion of a spectator, who looked barely able to contain his own excitement. Nathan’s cock slid deeper and then, with another push, it was as deep as it could be.