Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass

by Hill Sandra

  “Now. I’m ready,” she said, arching her hips up off the mattress.

  He was obviously ready, too, but he pressed her downward, forestalling any more movement. “Not yet. I still have some secrets to explore.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about—”

  “Like your breasts. I wondered if the nipples would be tiny pink pebbles or rosy points when you were aroused,” he said in a husky voice as he slid down her body to get a better look.

  “And?”

  “Both. Perfect, in fact,” he said and took one of her breasts totally in his mouth, then released it slowly, like a suction, till he had her nipple and areola between his lips, then licked and fluttered the tip with his tongue till she’d reached the point of such intense pleasure that she felt like screaming but contented herself with a low keening wail. Then he did the same exercise on her other breast, and the thrumming bliss rose higher and higher, rippling out to all her extremities, then dead center between her legs where she shattered into what seemed like a million shards of pulsing sparks.

  She’d had climaxes before. Of course she had, with Phillipe. But this was different. Maybe because it had been so long. Maybe it was his technique. In other circumstances, she might have felt guilty, as if her ecstasy was a betrayal to Phillipe. But now all she could do was pant and blink up at Justin with a dazed confusion.

  “Do you have any idea what a turn-on it is to watch you come?”

  How would I know that? she wanted to snap. In truth, she felt a little uncomfortable talking about it. Especially since he was equally aroused, as evidenced by his glazed eyes and parted lips and the continuing presence between her legs, but he hadn’t climaxed yet. Reaching deep for nerve, she said, “Maybe I’ve been wanting to watch you, too.” She hadn’t given that a thought, but she would now.

  He must have liked her saucy reply because his penis gave a little jerk.

  “Now?” she asked tentatively.

  He reached a hand down, parting her pubic hairs with his fingertips, testing her moisture. “You might be almost ready,” he concluded.

  “Almost?” she choked out.

  He smiled and used one finger only to find a certain spot in her lady parts, which he flicked several times before asking, “How does that feel?”

  “Like there are a million butterflies down there wanting to escape.”

  He nodded as if satisfied with her answer and picked up the contraceptive tin, flicking it open with a thumb. With an ease that bespoke expertise, he rolled it on, raised himself slightly, and took himself in hand, easing his shaft inside her. Slowly. Inch by inch.

  He blew out a ragged breath. “Oh, Louise! You feel like warm honey melting around me.”

  Louise was the one who worried that her eyes might be rolling back in her head then. Justin’s entry and his words caused her to welcome him with the reflexive clasping and unclasping of her inner muscles until he was in her to the hilt. “You feel like silky marble. Holy crawfish! You… fill…me. So good!”

  He rested his forehead against hers, panting, before he took her hands, encouraging her to caress his body. Then he raised himself on straightened arms and began the long strokes that her body had been missing for years, without her realizing what she’d been yearning for. The whole time, his eyes held hers.

  It was true what they said about bicycles…and sex. Once you learned how, you never forgot. With that realization in mind, Louise entered into the “ride” with an enthusiasm that clearly surprised, but pleased Justin.

  She rubbed her breasts against his chest hairs and purred at the delicious sensation.

  As Justin watched her, his nostrils flared and he seemed to grit his teeth to control his reaction. How like a man, needing to hold the reins.

  She couldn’t allow that. So, she deliberately clenched her inner muscles.

  “Oh, my God!” he murmured and stopped moving on his inward thrust, causing his pubic bone to press against her pubic bone, and remained unmoving.

  Huh! He can’t stop now. She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles, and shimmied her body from left to right several times. She wasn’t sure about him, but she about passed out at the extreme pleasure.

  He made a sound that was a cross between a chortle and a choke. But he didn’t move. Darn him!

  He thinks I’m funny, does he? She bit his shoulder and soothed it with several licks of her tongue.

  He laughed and said, “Okay, honey, you win. Hold on tight.”

  It was a wild ride then, but she did indeed hold on. And when she climaxed this time, he followed soon after with a roar of “Yeeeessss!”

  At first he collapsed on top of her, the sound of his harsh breathing loud in her ear. But then he removed the condom and dropped it into a wastebasket by the bed, wiping himself with a tissue from the box on the bedside table. After that, he rolled over onto his side, tucking her under his arm with her face on his chest. The bed was too narrow for the two of them to lie side by side.

  He kissed the top of her head and said, “You are amazing.”

  She kissed one of his flat male nipples and said, “You didn’t do so bad yourself.”

  “I can’t believe I lucked out like this,” he told her. “When I came here tonight, the most I hoped for was a few kisses or maybe some making out.”

  “But you came prepared,” she pointed out.

  He shrugged. “As a doctor, I see way too many unwanted pregnancies. So, I’m always prepared.”

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” she said then. “But, Justin, you can’t stay the night.” It wasn’t just that she had a child, but his vehicle parked in the driveway would be like a neon sign announcing her promiscuity to any passersby.

  “No problem,” he agreed, understanding without her going into detail.

  She relieved herself and washed her hands, noting in the mirror over the sink that her face was flushed and her hair, which had long escaped from its rubber band, was wild and bed-mussed.

  What am I doing? she asked herself from the more sensible side of her brain.

  Having fun, like other people my age, who are single. To fill a hole of loneliness in my life, the other side of her admittedly sex-hazy brain replied.

  What about the future?

  There is no future. Justin will be leaving in a few weeks.

  So, sex without commitment?

  Exactly. Why not? It works for men.

  What about love?

  Not a problem.

  The sound in her head now was either a snicker or a snort, and she knew exactly where it came from. St. Jude had a habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times.

  She brushed the tangle out as best she could and she put on the nightgown she’d brought with her from the bedroom, where it had been inside out and laying on the floor. Leaving the bathroom, she checked on Adèle, whom she could see clearly by the night light in the room, which she’d decorated in lavender, Adèle’s favorite color, and white…all ruffles and lace. She picked up a teddy bear and placed it on the bed next to her daughter, who slept soundly, like she usually did. Leaning down, she pulled the light sheet over her little body and kissed her on the cheek.

  When she returned to her bedroom, she saw that Justin, too, was sleeping sounding. Nude as a newborn babe, arm tossed over his head, his flaccid penis nestled between legs that were spread wide, taking up the whole mattress.

  “Tsk-tsk!” she said. “Wake up, Justin.”

  Nothing, except for a snore.

  She nudged his shoulder with her hand and said, louder, “Justin! You have to get up. Time to go home.”

  He opened one eye and peered up at her. Before she knew what he was about, he grabbed her arm and yanked her over and on top of him.

  “You can’t be here in the morning when Adèle wakes up,” she told him as she tried to squirm out of his arms.

  He held on tighter, his hands caressing her back from shoulder to buttocks. “You got dressed,” he protested. “Not fair!”

  S
he wasn’t going to be diverted from what she’d been telling him. “Really, Justin, you can’t stay overnight. Not just because of Adèle, but God forbid, your Boudreaux General Store truck is in the driveway when cars go by on the way to work. With the bayou grapevine, I’d be getting a dozen phone calls by noon asking if I’d got a nighttime delivery. They’d be calling me the bayou floozy. Talk about!”

  “Floozy? And, actually, you could say I delivered.”

  She smacked him on the arm for his teasing.

  “If you must know, I didn’t drive the store truck. I borrowed my mother’s car.”

  “You numbskull! Everyone recognizes your mother’s red DeSoto.”

  “Guess I forgot in the heat of the moment.” He laughed.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Don’t worry, honey. We have plenty of time till morning.”

  “For what?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.

  “More exploring,” he said.

  “Does that go both ways?”

  “For sure, darlin’. I can’t wait.”

  “I can tell,” she said saucily, as she wiggled her hips over the newly blooming erection pressed up against her belly, evidence of his anticipation.

  “Vixen,” he said, leaning up to give her a quick kiss. “I must say, Louise, you are a total surprise to me.”

  “Oh?” She slid down his body to kneel between his legs where she raised the hem on her nightgown, pulling it over her head, then tossing it to the floor. “Is that surprise good or bad?”

  He was busy, staring at her body for a moment, and she could tell that he liked what he saw, despite her earlier misgivings about her assets, or lack of them. “Definitely good,” he said in a choked voice. Clearing his throat, he explained, “It’s not that you come across as frigid, but you’ve got a hidden well of sensuality that doesn’t show on the outside. You’re like a special present on Christmas morning. As a kid, you are expecting another new shirt or a ballpoint pen, but instead you get a baseball mitt.”

  She laughed. “Me, a present?”

  “Uh huh. You have a joie de vivre in the bed sheets.”

  “That’s a new one,” she said. “I think you’re tryin’ to say I’ve got some hidden sluttiness.” She pretended to be offended, raising her chin.

  “If that’s sluttiness, then God bless sluttiness.”

  “Shhh. That sounds sacrilegious.”

  “What? You think St. Jude is gonna boink me on the head with some celestial hammer, or strike me with thunder, or turn me into a leper, or something?”

  She shook her head at his foolishness. “That’s not funny.”

  “Besides, when I said God bless sluttiness, I meant that I am truly grateful. Sort of like a prayer of thanks.”

  “I’m not sure St. Jude would accept that explanation.”

  Fortunately St. Jude remained silent. At the moment.

  The playful banter ended then when Justin said, “I have an idea.”

  And, whoo boy, was it humdinger of an idea!

  Chapter 6

  Begin the Beguine…

  Justin awakened just before dawn to the sound of birdsong coming from the open screened window. Lots of birdsong. That’s the way it was on the bayou. Nothing ever occurred on a small scale. The swampland had every variety of flowers, trees, animals, snakes, and, yes, birds.

  He smiled and looked over at Louise who was splatted out on the bed, face and belly down. He’d worn her out, in the best possible way. Three bouts of lovemaking; four, if you counted him going down on her.

  What a shocker Louise had turned out to be. First, the transformation from Farmer Jane to Mother Earth to Mommy of the Year (or Aunt of the Year) to Hot Broad, and now Wild Lover. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, or even if he’d had expectations of landing in her bed, but her enthusiasm and lack of inhibitions were a welcome surprise. He couldn’t wait to see what she did next.

  Of course, this was only going to be a short-term affair. Even Louise agreed about that. They’d discussed it in between one of their bouts of sex. She was still grieving for some long-dead fiancé, had a child to raise, and plans to build her folk-healing business here on the bayou. He was an ambitious almost-doctor whose future was uncertain, not just what his specialty would be, or if he’d specialize, but where he would do it. Besides, he was leaving for Massachusetts in less than a month.

  Enough said. Everything was copacetic.

  He eased himself off the bed, careful not to disturb Louise. He was about to draw the light sheet over her body, but first (shoot me! I’m a man!) he admired the view. She was short, but perfectly formed for her size. He was particularly attracted to her small waist, that delicious dip of her lower back, and her buttocks, of course, which were plump and nicely rounded.

  Enough. He had to get going. Drawing on his clothes, quietly, he slipped out of the room, pulling the door half closed. After relieving himself in her small bathroom, he washed his hands and combed his hair. Opening the door, he almost ran into a little person standing there in yellow-and-white checked pajamas and a mop of dark hair, looking like a miniature version of her aunt. Justin wasn’t particularly fond of kids, but this one was adorable.

  “I hafta pee,” she said, as if she wasn’t at all afraid of the stranger in her house. But then, they had met on that day at the church festival when her friend had that breathing incident.

  “Do you want me to wake your aunt?”

  She shook her hair. “I kin do it myself.” And she did. Pulling down her pajama bottoms and tiny blue panties, she hitched herself up on the toilet, did her business, wiped herself meticulously with exactly three sheets of toilet paper (she counted), and then washed and dried her hands. She’d been taught this bathroom routine well, apparently.

  “Okay, are you going back to bed, or should I wake your aunt now?”

  “Breakfast,” she said decisively, already heading toward the kitchen.

  Justin stood, undecided for a moment, glancing from Louise’s bedroom to the kitchen and back again. In the end, he decided to let Louise sleep a little longer.

  “My name is Justin,” he told the little girl who was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for service.

  “I’m Adèle, but you kin call me Addie. I’m almos’ five years old.”

  Am I supposed to give her my age, too? Or tell her to call me by some nickname, like Jus, or Justy, or Doc?

  Nah, he decided, and instead asked her, “What do you want for breakfast, Addie?”

  “Coush-coush.”

  “I’m afraid that’s beyond my culinary abilities.”

  “Huh?”

  He opened the fridge door, scanned the contents, and said, “How about bacon and scrambled eggs?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  While he was frying the bacon and scrambling the eggs and toasting five slices of bread, enough for all of them, in the event Louise got up soon, he carried on the most bizarre conversation. Adèle skittered from one subject to another, like popcorn on a hot griddle. Maybe this type of dialogue was normal for an almost-five-year-old, but it was beyond his experience.

  “I like to color. Do you like to color?” she asked.

  “I did when I was a kid, I suppose.”

  “We kin color after breakfas’.”

  Great! “That would be nice.”

  “Are you Tante Lulu’s boyfriend?”

  Hopefully. “Maybe.”

  “Boys like to kiss girls. Do you like to kiss girls?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Blech! Miss Dawkins has big boobies.”

  “Who?”

  “Miss Dawkins. She’s gonna be my kindergarten teacher.”

  Please don’t ask me if I like big boobies. “You said you were almost five years old. When’s your birthday?”

  “In this many days,” she said, opening and closing her fists two times.

  Twenty days, he translated. He would be gone by then.

  “Boys have two-two’s and girls have wee-wee�
�s,” she informed him, as if she were imparting some secret. “Do you have a two-two?”

  “Um, breakfast is ready,” he said, filling a plate with a little pile of golden eggs, a strip of bacon, and a piece of buttered toast, sliced diagonally. He had no idea if this was a sufficient amount for a kid.

  “Thank you,” she said politely. “Aren’t you going to eat, too?”

  “Yes, but first I have to go outside to do something. Stay put, short stuff.”

  She giggled at his name for her.

  I really should wake Louise and leave, but I don’t have to work until this afternoon, and, okay, I admit I’d like to continue the fun of last night. Yeah, a kid might hamper my efforts, but I’ll take my chances.

  Louise will probably kill me for sticking around.

  Or maybe she’ll want to continue the fun, too.

  I can only hope.

  With the decision made, he moved his mother’s car to the end of her driveway and into her back yard so it wouldn’t be visible from the road out front. He felt kind of silly doing it, like a teenager engaged in some illicit activity, but Louise would feel better, he was sure.

  When he got back to the kitchen, he filled his own plate and sat down next to the little girl. The breakfast was good, if he did say so himself. And Adèle was eating up, too. He washed his down with coffee, which he’d made in the aluminum pot on the stove, and the kid got orange juice. Searching for a kid-appropriate subject, he commented, “So, what do you think about Snow White and those seven dwarves? Somethin’ goin’ on there, I bet.” On the other hand, maybe that wasn’t kid-appropriate. He shrugged dismissively.

  Afterward, he cleared the dishes and Adèle went to get her coloring books and crayons. Louise was still not up, but then, it was only seven o’clock, and he had worn her out last night.

  “Why are you smilin’?” Adèle asked, spreading two coloring books on the table and the box of crayons between them. “Doan forget to color inside the lines. I kin show you if you doan know how.”

  Thus, it was that when Louise finally awakened, he was saved from her tirade over his continued presence by the sight of him coloring Dumbo a pretty shade of lavender, Adèle’s favorite color.