“Nezzie, baby, I’m not asking you to stop thinking. I’m just training you to allow me to take over sometimes, especially when we’re in the bedroom. When we’re here, you have to let me own you unless, of course, I give you the privilege of running the show for a while.” He smiled. “You’re already getting it to some degree, or at least your body is.”
“Yes, sir. I’m becoming nothing but a pussy for you.”
“As it should be. Not only that, you’re my ass, my throat; your hands are mine and your arms and your legs. Doesn’t it feel good to be in a situation where you can just let your mind go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Really, it’s no different than hitting on that damned cocaine of yours except this won’t kill you or get your ass thrown in jail.”
“Yes, sir, I agree with that.”
“Then let it go, Nez. Enough of this shit. Stop overthinking it. If you like it, go with it.”
“But, sir, your reactions with me last night, are they conditioned reactions?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you’re totally okay with it?”
“Yep, one hundred percent, and I’m not a brainless fuck hole either. Well, unless I’m required to be. See what I mean?”
“Yes, sir, I guess so.”
“Enough, Nez,” he said as he went to the bathroom.
“Sir, I . . .” I began.
“Nez,” he raised his voice and came back into the bedroom, “I said that is enough!” He approached the bed and pointed his finger at me. “All you need to know is that I’m on top. I own your sexy little ass and I will do with it as I please. End of story, end of conversation. You know what’s required of you, so step up.”
“Yes, sir.”
He marched back into the bathroom and closed the door. “I’d be fucking you right now if you didn’t overthink what was happening in our own bed.” His voice faded and the shower turned on.
Here he was ready to give me a glorious morning and I had to run my mouth. Never again would I want a verbal tutorial in the bedroom, another lesson learned from my faithful master.
I was sitting on the bed waiting for the sun to rise when he came out of the bathroom damp and smelling of roses.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said.
“Not now, Nezzie.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Get in there and wash the fuck off you. We’re taking a walk this morning before breakfast. I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you and maybe it’ll help if you’re thinking about things that actually bear some thinking about. Nez, for god’s sake, the one thing you don’t have to think about is fucking me.”
“I understand now, sir.”
“You’re getting there.” He spanked my ass as I walked past him into the bathroom.
Our exchanges about thinking and sex and top and bottom had me riled up. The confusion was provocative and disjointed. I examined myself in the mirror to find my sexual points aroused. My breasts were sitting high with sore, hard nipples; my clit was swollen and firm when I touched it.
“Nezzie!” His voice made me jump. “I thought we were past my having to keep an eye on you.”
“Yes, sir, I was just making sure everything was okay after last night. I wasn’t pleasuring myself.”
“Are you not okay?” he asked in earnest concern. “Are you hurt?”
“A little swollen is all. I only have a little pain, my lord, but not the bad kind.”
“Good. I’m waiting, so get a move on.”
I dressed in white shorts and a navy and white striped t-shirt. White bobby socks with lace trim and Ked sneakers were on my feet. Mr. Delacroix wore pink shorts, white sneakers, and a light blue polo shirt with his collar turned up.
The morning was still dark, but balmy. A light breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. We were walking along the bayou near the chapel as the eastern horizon glowed orange. I was excited to see what the day had in store.
“Listen,” he said quietly, “hear that?” Something stirred in the underbrush.
“Yeah, my lord, what is it?”
“I dunno, could be a possum.” He was still and then he turned to me. “Or it could be the alligator!” He laughed so hard when I jumped and screamed.
“You just wait till next time you put me in charge, my lord. I don’t forget either,” I said in a playful tone.
“Nez, look, I know I was hard on you this morning. I guess I was frustrated because all I wanted to do was get you all tied up in knots for me.”
“And I ruined it, my lord, but I think I’ve got it now. You prefer to discuss things out of the bedroom. I understand.”
“Just think of this,” he waved his hand across the bayou, “as your classroom where you hear lectures and think. When you’re in the bedroom, consider it the lab where you apply what you’ve learned from the classroom.”
“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I gleaned from this morning’s lesson.”
“You gotta keep that sharp mind of yours open, Nez. Observe what goes on around you no matter where you are and take cues from that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, my dear brainiac, I came up with a couple good ideas while I was in the shower and you were in bed thinking.” He began to walk faster as he spoke. “When we come back here this winter, you’re taking up tennis.”
“What? Where did that come from, sir?”
“It came from you constantly thinking and strategizing and wanting to figure out everyone’s next move. Tennis will help occupy that mind of yours while working your body a little at the same time. Besides, I play, and I think it would be fun to play together.”
“Okay, sir, if that’s your wish, it will be so,” I smiled.
“More immediately, I think today, with your consent, of course, I’d like to have you and Marie and Girl have a threesome for me. What do you think?”
“I . . . well, sir, I dunno.”
“Just as a mind-opening exercise for you, my love. It occurred to me that Girl is one of the most broad-minded people I know, and she has an uncanny ability to open minds and shut them off. Ya know, tune in and drop out. It’ll be fun for you to experience her.”
“Will you be there, sir?”
“Every step of the way. Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I want to watch three women fuck each other?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir, what? Do you consent or not?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “But—”
He interrupted. “Stop, Nez, don’t overthink it. It’s just a little fun.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be so hot for you after that, I’ll have to fuck your brains out.” He smiled and took my hand. “How does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect, my lord.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I have a couple of questions for you about last night, though.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Wherever did you get those ideas?”
“You mean when you put me in charge, sir?”
“Yeah, you seemed so sure of yourself and so experienced. I was surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to take to it so easily.”
“Sir, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be so compliant.”
“Well, Nez, you commanded it so well. As you say, I’m conditioned to react a certain way in certain situations and you, my dear, gave me no choice but to comply. My body and mind couldn’t have behaved any other way. That’s where I hope to get you someday. To a place where you just react and go with it. You did exactly that when you were on top.”
“And yet I’m a natural on the bottom, sir.”
“Whatever happened last night, just keep it up. Keep your mind in the moment. Enjoy the moment, my love.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sun peeked over the treetops along
the horizon, making the bayou turn golden pink with dark reflections of the trees. It reminded me of my first morning in New Orleans with Ty, watching the sun come up over the river.
We continued our walk back toward the chapel and went to the graves for Mr. Delacroix’s morning vigil. He stood silently as I read the headstones. I wondered about his grandparents, but that was a conversation for another day. There were so many stories right here in this small cemetery. I wanted to learn them and add our story, so people would know how this family survived.
“They’re going to start working on the north wing next week,” he said as we walked back up the knoll to the croquet green.
“Is there much to do other than give it a good cleaning, sir?”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure they’ll find repairs that need to be done. You’ll have to help me choose the colors. Same with the master suite. I think we decided to do a bit of redecorating before we move in, didn’t we?”
“Yes, sir. That dark color is not to my liking at all,” I said, “but I love the furnishings.”
We approached the veranda to see Marie-Louise sitting alone at the breakfast table. She was reading a book. It was nice to see her at ease.
“Go say hello to your friend. I’m sure she missed you yesterday,” he said, and let go of my hand.
I smiled and ran up the hill. “Marie, hi.”
She got up and ran to meet me. “Miss, I was hoping to see you yesterday.”
“Mr. Delacroix had other plans for me,” I said, and she and I walked hand in hand back to the table.
“I know, miss, he told me. I hope you had fun.”
“I did. What did you do?”
“I had a wonderful day. I slept in all by myself in that big bed. I didn’t think I’d like it, but it was nice to have it all to myself. When I finally got up, breakfast was waiting for me, so I ate something and then I took my shower and did my hair, all without Jackson breathing down my neck. Then I found this book, so I started reading it.” She handed me the book, an old copy of John Milton’s Paradise Lost.
“After I read for a while, I got bored, so,” she leaned in and whispered, “I played with the toys on myself,” she giggled.
I smiled as Mr. Delacroix meandered his way across the croquet green.
“Good morning, Mr. Delacroix,” Marie said.
“You’re up early today,” he said to her.
“I’m excited to see Girl, sir.”
“She won’t be here for a while. It’s a bit of a drive from Baton Rouge, ya know,” he said as he sat down.
“Oh, I know, sir, but I wanted to make sure Miss Nez got to see the agreement so she knows everything.”
“There ya go, Marie. Already you’re taking charge of things,” he said as Thomas set coffee out for him and me.
“I’m sorry, sir. Is that bad?” she asked.
“Not at all, it’s a good thing. It’s all right to have thoughts of your own and to consider others. It’s very kind of you,” he said.
“Yes, sir, it is, isn’t it?” she said, filled with pride.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” I said. “Mr. Delacroix showed me the agreement last night and I signed it.”
“Oh, thank you, miss, I’m excited about it.” She looked at the croquet green as if in deep thought. “I never knew how good it would feel to be my own person.”
“After only one day?” Mr. Delacroix asked. “I’m pleased you’re feeling good, Marie, but give yourself some time; remember, Girl can’t stay here forever.”
“I know, sir. Have you heard from Jackson?” she asked as she looked at her water glass.
“Marie, you know I don’t have contact with him.”
“I thought maybe, sir, he would at least try to contact me—I mean, contact you.”
“Cher,” he said tenderly, “it’s over. He isn’t coming back to you.”
“I know, sir,” she whispered.
“Marie, there’s more to share,” I said, trying to change the subject and get back to sunnier conversation. “Mr. Delacroix, may I share our news?” I asked.
“Yes, love.” He sat back and sipped his coffee.
“Marie, I’m to wear his collar.”
“Oh, miss, that’s great news. Mr. Delacroix, I knew it!”
“Knew what, Marie?” I could tell he was amused.
“I could see with you two, sir, that you make a good match. But where is the collar?”
“It’ll be here soon. It’ll happen before we go back to the city.” He sat his coffee down and Thomas handed him the newspapers.
“And there’s another thing too,” I said.
“What, miss?” Marie sat on the edge of her chair like a child on Christmas Day.
I leaned over and whispered in her ear, so Thomas and Samuel could not hear. “Today Mr. Delacroix wants you and me to have a threesome with Girl.”
She squealed like a little puppy and clapped her hands. “What a fun day.”
“Yes, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said, “let’s do have fun.” He shook his paper out and put up the wall.
38.
“Shall I set lunch for three or four today, sir?” Thomas asked.
“Set it for four. Girl will be here before we sit for lunch. Oh, and Thomas, remember, she’s a vegetarian,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind his big desk in the library.
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“A refill on the lemonade would be nice,” he said as he opened a file folder.
“Right away, sir.” Thomas collected the nearly empty pitcher from the sideboard and left.
Marie sat at the piano and worked on her Liszt. Mr. Delacroix was going over papers he had brought with him from the city. I was busy trying to figure out how to be busy. I had Monique’s journals, but I was fascinated to watch Mr. Delacroix concentrate on his work. I had rarely seen his life outside the one we shared.
“Nezzie, come,” he said as he pulled a heavy wooden office chair up beside his. “Are you bored, my love?”
“No, sir. I’m going to read Monique’s journals.”
“Why not read some of Jean-Pierre’s books? I’m sure they aren’t as insightful as Monique’s, but they may interest you. They’re mostly ledgers, date books, and business contacts. I think there are records of his travels in there somewhere too.”
He pushed the ladder down the side of the tall bookshelf wall and climbed halfway up. I glanced over at the papers on his desk and noticed an invoice with his business insignia on it. The bottom line read nearly six million dollars. The reality of his great wealth struck me in that moment. I could not believe how lucky I was.
He pulled down a large black leather binder and blew dust off the edges of the thick paper. “I need to get on Miss Melva to dust these bookshelves,” he said as he climbed back down the ladder. “It’s a mess up there.”
The binder was heavy in my hands. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, my love. You know, if there’s anything you need or want to know, it’s probably in here or in town. Feel free to look around all you want, and if you need something else, I can check for you at the office. We’ve got a small archive over there, too.”
Jean-Pierre kept detailed records of his travels and transactions. The binder included ledgers of money in and money out, and was dated precisely including the location and time of day the transaction took place. For the era, he traveled extensively. No wonder Monique had so much time to write and pose for her artist. I could see why Jean-Pierre thought she would be lonely. Would I be lonely at Twisted Oak? I suppose with Marie here, I would have some company. I looked at her working hard at her piano, deep in concentration, barely aware of our world.
New Orleans, November 1, 1770: Weather fair. Setting sail for Saint-Domingue. Monique on my mind. One more acquisition before I stay with her until the
baby comes.
I found a cargo inventory manifesto attached to this personal note: coffee, sugar, and humans. My skin crawled with the thought, but I kept reading.
Arrived in Port-au-Prince, February 4, 1758. Stayed aboard ship as I deplore this place. My mind aches at the thought of my poor orphaned child Monique eking out an existence on this god-forsaken island. Will my mind ever be able to forgive the people who did this to her? Can I come to terms with the fact that if they did not, I would not have her? That I benefit from their treachery? Am I treacherous? I want a quick turnaround while the weather is still fair. Inventory checked and all accounted for. Payment rendered: 1500 in gold. Reminder: Have Mr. LeGeneret take care of future slave shipments. This is abhorrent. I shall never come to Saint Domingue again. Below my sensibilities.”
I recalled Mr. Delacroix’s words about how I inspire him to work harder, to be more successful. Would my presence compel him to do things below his sensibilities? I knew what that was like.
I wondered how much of the Delacroix wealth was made in the slave trade. I shuddered at the thought, but at least Jean-Pierre had disdain for it.
“Sir?” I asked quietly, hoping he would not be upset at the interruption.
“Yes, my love?”
“I see Jean-Pierre mention a Mr. LeGeneret, my lord. Is that the same family as the Mr. LeGeneret I met the other night?”
“Yes. Our families have a long history,” he smiled.
“Business history it appears, sir,” I said, hoping for clarification.
“Jean-Pierre and Luc-Richard LeGeneret had a close relationship in and out of the workplace.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated on Mr. Delacroix’s voice whispering, Neige Blanche Monique Delacroix. My thoughts wandered to being collared and I wondered what he had in store for me; what it would be like and how things would change. I recalled Sunny saying the collar is one step toward having a ring on my finger. Mr. Delacroix’s voice rang in my mind: In another decade or two, you'll be right where they are, in your own way. Doubt crept in. Was I ready? Was I out of my depth?
I started when I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me holding a glass of lemonade. “My lord, you scared me.” I set the binder down on the coffee table.
Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey Page 42
