He stiffened his dark body like a mannequin. Angel worked on the button with her lips and teeth until it came undone, and then moved on to the next one.
She pulled his shirt out of his pants and undid the last two buttons.
Angel knelt down and nuzzled her face against the hardness of his crotch, blowing hot breaths through the fabric of his pants. Damien ached in his pants and he wished that she would hurry, but, at the same time, her slow-motion stripping was turning him on tremendously. Angel tugged at his belt and it came unclasped. She tugged at the snap at the top of his pants and pulled it loose. That left nothing but the zipper. Deftly catching the hook between her teeth, she slowly yanked downward.
Ziiiiiip!
Go down Angel, Angel go down
Fall to de ground and
Move it 'round and around
Go down Angel, Angel go down
Spread yo' white wings, and
Pleasure all things
Go down Angel, Angel go down.
... Jamaican Folk Song
Chapter One
Angel wasn't her given name, of course. It was Angelique, but because of her appearance she was affectionately Angel ... pronounced Ahhn-gel, with a very soft "g" in the manner of the Jamaican islanders.
That summer, when she was fifteen, Angel discovered that she was made of flesh and blood. Her body became a new-found land and she embarked on a voyage, exploring the whole of herself, climbing her own mountain ranges, penetrating the moistness of her secret valleys. For hours she would stare at herself, naked, in her mirror; she would follow with her finger the marvelous structure of her rib cage, where her heart fluttered under her flesh like a caught bird, and she would trail a long line from her breast to her navel and spin about, clasping herself and laughing out of the sheer exhilaration of the discovery that she was no longer a little girl.
She loved to pose in attitudes, pretending that she was a famous artist's model. For Raphael, she combed out her long blond hair to fall straight down from a center parting and she thoughtfully regarded herself as she held a gardenia from the garden next to her cheek. For Toulouse-Lautrec, she piled her hair whorishly on top of her head, letting it fall seductively over her violet eyes and would assume a pose that was unmistakably a slut's. And her Botticelli, a brilliant Venus! She posed on tiptoes, stretching upwards with a bit of net falling around her shoulders and violets stuck into her downy pubic hair.
Tired of posing, she fell back on her bed, hugged herself and breathed the word ... "darling" to her phantom lover.
In readiness for him she spread her long legs apart and flexed her pelvis again and again and pinched her pink nipples until they hurt.
Suddenly Angel stood up, bored with herself and her make-believe lover. She sat down at the dressing table and idly drew rings around her nipples with a pink lipstick. She spoke to herself in the mirror.
"I am not going to die a virgin! In spite of Daddy, I'll have a man!"
Her father, a widower, was an over-zealous man who protected his daughter from any and all contact with young men. Angel hated him for it and retreated to have her fantasies in the privacy of her own locked bedroom. But today was different ... she had not locked the bedroom door because her father was away in France on business. Angel luxuriated in her new freedom. She knew that imaginary lovers were childhood dreams and that she had to have a real one-real flesh against her flesh-the weight of a man's body against hers-the thrust of his cock!
Her fingers stroked her soft vaginal lips. They were damp and welcomed her touch. Gingerly she touched her moist finger to her lips and tasted.
"Mmmm. I wonder if the man's taste is similar? Wonder, wonder, wonder ... I'm tired of wondering. I want to know!"
Angel irritably twisted her body around on the bed.
"Goddamn Daddy anyway! Such a hypocrite ... he has sex all the time."
She thought back to the time she first realized that after her mother had left, her father had affairs with other women. Angel discovered that late at night, a constant stream of women slipped up the staircase into her father's bedroom. All of the women were black and were employed in some capacity by her father. He treated his blacks as rudely as if he were a plantation owner in the eighteenth century and as if they were all his slaves. Angel wondered if they came to his room willingly. She wanted to know.
One night after she had heard the soft padding feet on the carpet outside, she crept out of her window and eased her way down the long balcony to the end of the house where her father's room was located. She knelt beside the sliding doors of his room. She knew that she was well hidden by the shadows of the bougainvillea which grew over and around the balcony. She peered inside the large room which was softly lit by a flickering candle. Which one was it tonight? she wondered. She strained her eyes and stared into the dim room.
It was Ottilee, the cook's helper. A young, dark-caramel-colored beauty with a full, rounded body. She was sitting on the edge of Angel's father's bed and in a short time her father came in from the bathroom. They were both naked. It was strange for Angel to see her father without clothes. He was always so careful not to expose himself in front of his daughter. Angel marveled at the size of her father's cock. It was as thick as a baby's arm. As he neared the bed Ottilee reached out and took it in her hand.
It was very stiff. She lay back on the bed and Angel's father told her to open her legs. Ottilee's eyes were wild with passion. Maxim Leveque lay down next to her and began to suck on her full breasts. Ottilee's hand gripped his huge cock. She was whimpering as his tongue caressed her lush tits. Ottilee squirmed her ass on the bed as he slowly drew his head down to her stomach. She threw her legs wide as his tongue licked over her raised mound.
Angel could see, the large opening of Ottilee's cunt in the light of the candle. Ottilee kept groaning and grunting loudly when her father's teeth would snap over her clitoris.
But Angel's father took his time. His tongue seemed to be licking every one of her cunt hairs separately. Ottilee writhed about on the bed, thrusting her hips upward, her hands clutched his head urging him to suck her cunt. But, he just took his own sweet time.
"Oh, Mon!" she screamed. "Ooooo ... OOOOH!"
He dipped his tongue into her blazing cunt, making her clitoris itch. She was sweating profusely as her body thrilled to his searching tongue. Suddenly he threw her legs up in the air until her knees were touching her hot nipples and then he reared up like a pent-up bull and poked his giant cock against the lips of her cunt.
"Jugg my hole, Mon! Jugg my hole!!"
Angel was watching the scene with wide-eyed wonder. She had allowed her own fingers to trail down between her legs and unconsciously she was fingering her young pussy.
Ottilee was writhing feverishly on the bed as Maxim's huge cock began to force its way inside her. She squealed like a stuck pig as his huge cudgel dug deeply into her sweltering cunt. Then he pulled out and rolled her over onto her belly. He raised her up until her behind was close to his ferocious cock. Ottilee was alternately purring and screaming as his thick spear slammed deep inside her.
The room was filled with the sound of his balls slapping against her damp ass.
"Fuck me, Mon! Puck me ... fuck me," she cried aloud.
Maxim pumped faster and faster as his cock plundered her stretched cunt. Her breasts were swinging from side to side as he pounded it into her frenzied slit. Angel could see that Ottilee was biting her lips as her father's cock pierced her depths. Angel bit her own Up as she watched. The scene took on a dream-like quality for her. It didn't seem real ... her father and this woman. Was he like that with her mother? Angel couldn't imagine it. Her father began snorting and yelling at Ottilee: "Come on, you black bitch! Move that hole of yours. Move it, I said."
He brought his open fist down across Ottilee's buttocks with a resounding slap. Angel winced in her hiding place. He raised his hand once again. Slap!
"Come on, you black whore. Take it! Take it all!"
He was now thrusting into Ottilee like an enraged animal. He continued loudly slapping her across the buttocks as he fucked her in rhythm with the slapping.
"You filthy cunt," he screamed. He yanked his cock out of her as roughly as he had inserted it. He pushed her head down on the bed and took a pillow and placed it on top of her head to deaden the frightening noises her mouth was making. Ottilee was actually screaming now, whether from desire, disappointment, or what ... Angel didn't know.
Angel watched him as he roughly jabbed two of his long fingers into Ottilee's ass. As he punched his fingers in and out of her ass, he dug the fingernails of his other hand into the skin of her back, raking back and forth. Angel thought she could see blood. He pulled his fingers out and scooted behind Ottilee. He jammed the huge head of his cock against her ass. This was something that Angel hadn't heard of before.
Her father pushed forward and Ottilee let out an ear-piercing scream as his cock entered her ass violently. He didn't pause, just plummeted forward while his fingers ripped at her swollen cunt. Again and again he banged his pelvis against her backside.
"Move your ass, bitch!" he roared.
Reluctantly Ottilee moved her buttocks in a rotating manner. He was going at her faster now, digging his fingernails deep into her flesh, and roaring like a bull as he climaxed, expelling every last drop of his orgasm deep into the ravished girl. He pulled his cock out savagely and walked into the bathroom. Angel could see him washing his cock.
He reentered the room, his eyes blazing. He grabbed Ottilee by the hair and threw her to the floor. "Get out! Haven't you had enough? You don't think I'm going to allow you to sleep here! Go on ... get out!"
Ottilee gathered up her dress and stumbled out of the room, her head bowed. He spat after her. He pulled the sheets off the bed and tossed them angrily a couple of times before dropping off to sleep.
Angel sat quietly in her hiding place, listening to his heavy breathing. Her fingers were still between her legs. She looked down at her small cunt and wondered if she would ever be able to take anything as large as her father's ponderous organ. She thought about it for a long while and then she decided that she wanted to see it closer.
She climbed up on to the window sill and sat there, silently making certain that he was not aware of her presence. When she was sure that he was sleeping soundly, she climbed into the dark bedroom and crawled stealthily over to his bed. He was lying on his back and was snoring. She looked up over the side of the bed at his cock which was hanging limply across his thigh. Even soft it seem to Angel to be gigantic, and in spite of her dislike for her father, she was strangely excited by his tremendous sex organ. He turned quickly in his sleep and threw his thighs wide apart. His cock fell down between his thighs and rested on two huge balls. Glinting in the moonlight like a tiny diamond was a drop of clear moisture on the tip of her father's cock. Angel bent her head forward till her face was only inches from his crotch. The heat from his flesh made her face feel like she was blushing. Angel stuck out her tongue and lightly touched the cock head. Funny, she thought, it tastes salty. Her father grunted and stirred in his sleep. Angel's heart began to pound in fear of being caught in the room and she crept softly back to the window and climbed out.
Upon reflection, Angel wondered if all men were as large as her father.
Her mind raced. She thought of all the men on the island that she had seen and been attracted to. Angel, unlike most girls of her own age, did not think of movie stars in her fantasies, but real men who were nearby ... men who could be had! There was only one problem.
She was still a virgin.
Angel wanted experience. She was sure that she would be good, but she didn't want the man balking at her obviously inexperienced state with the messy love-making that she had read about, or, worse yet, she did not want his guilt feelings. All she wanted was to have sex.
"I must get rid of it," she stated to herself with determination. Her eyes darted about the room. Nothing seemed to be the right shape.
"Daddy's hair brush!"
She ran naked out of her room down the hall to her father's room. She entered and went straight to his dressing table and picked up the elegant brush with the long silver handle. The silver handle felt cool and smooth in her hand, almost like skin that had somehow become unsupple by some form of magic.
Angel's imagination began to grow in her like a flower.
"Perhaps this really belonged on a man ... and perhaps he quarreled with the Houngan (a Voodoo priest) and the Houngan put an evil curse on him ... and here he is! All mine!"
She pressed the brush to her stomach and ran back to the privacy of her own room, being careful to lock the door so that none of the servants could happen in. She stretched out on her bed. The morning sun fell through the shutters in slivers and the room was filled with the lazy drone of the ceiling fan. A perfect setting for Angel and her silver lover.
She ran the bristles of the brush over her breasts. Her nipples hardened and their color became more intense. With her other hand, she felt her pubic mound. She slid a finger inside her moist vagina until it was stopped by the obstruction- her hymen.
Savagely she thrust the handle of the brush between her wet vaginal lips and pushed. Her eyes blinked with pain but still she pushed harder until ...
"Aaahhhhh!"
Just as suddenly as it had come, the pain disappeared.
"Old wives tales," she muttered, and slowly began an in and out rhythm with the silver phallus. Angel arched her back to meet the thrusts and with her free hand she stroked her throat. Beads of perspiration trickled down her flesh and caressed her. She opened her full lips and flicked out her tongue to kiss a man who wasn't there. A rush of new sensations began to flood her body as she increased the tempo of the hairbrush. The feeling was so marvelous! Why hadn't she done it before? she wondered. How much more marvelous it would feel with a real man. She closed her violet eyes tightly and tried to envision a lover. For a moment she saw nothing but the blinking lights of stars and then, he appeared.
Damien!
The young man who worked for her father; she could see him as clearly as if he were there.
His curly black hair fell over his deep-set blue eyes ... eyes that told her that he wanted her. His imperfect nose-broken, she wondered-or inherited? His lips-always parted-waiting for hers. Angel wet her lips and kissed his image passionately. She could almost feel the hardness of his body against hers, his swollen ... She hesitated, and then said it aloud:
"COCK!"
Her breath came in little gasps and she instinctively knew that she was approaching her first climax. Needles of desire, like slivers of ice- or was it fire?-tingled her body. She pushed upward fervently and cried out:
"DAMIEN!!"
Her orgasm began. Angel thrashed her head from side to side and trembled violently as the brush handle became coated with the cream of her passion. It seemed hours before her body was quiet once again and before she could open her eyes. She was afraid that the world had changed but she had to see. She opened her eyes slowly-Damien disappeared-and her room came into focus. Nothing had changed.
Except herself?
Angel got up from the bed and danced around the room, delighted with her new state. She ran to the shuttered windows and opened them all. She stretched her body in the warm sunlight and then turned to look back at the bed. There lay the .hairbrush catching the sunlight, and she felt slightly sad. Once more it was just a hair brush and not a disembodied lover, the spirit that had been sent to her through Voodoo. She picked it up off the bed and went into the bathroom where she carefully washed it, dried it, and set it aside, ready to be returned to her father's room.
She turned on the shower and stepped in. There was some soreness between her legs, but even that seemed to disappear as the water soothed and cleansed her body.
"I'll go down to see Damien," she said aloud, "and I'll go down alone!" Damien worked for her father's shop as a packer, shipping clerk, and general strong arm. Angel had been attracted to him immediately, and he to her, and now she intended to explore that attraction. She wrapped a towel around herself and went to sit on the balcony to let the sun dry her fine blond hair. Through the greenness of the acacia trees, she could see faint blue winkings of the sea which surrounded Montego Bay-her father's shop-and Damien!
After her hair had dried she ran to get dressed. She searched her closet to find something seductive. There was, of course, nothing! Her father disapproved of sophisticated clothes on his young daughter. She finally selected a white organdy dress. After she had put it on, she stood in front of her mirror dissatisfied.
"I don't look like much of a woman. Damien probably won't even notice me."
She took off the dress and removed her bra. She picked up some rouge from her dresser and rubbed it into her nipples and stepped back into the dress. Through the sheer material, her nipples shone like two small red lights in a fog.
She smiled to herself and left the room, not forgetting to return the hairbrush before she descended the staircase. She went through the house to find her companion, Verbena, to tell her that she was leaving.
She found Verbena in the kitchen eating a mango and fanning herself with a paper fan which beat around her curly head like a delirious moth. Verbena had been Angel's companion, babysitter and maid for several years. She was a tall, gaunt woman, the color of a burnt tree stump. She had fled from Port au Prince, Haiti, to Jamaica and had eventually been hired by Angel's father. Verbena looked up inquiringly.
"Verbena, I'm going into town."
Verbena set aside her fan and started to rise.
"No! You stay here. I'm going alone," Angel said.
Verbena smiled knowingly.
"De little chick looks like she's goin' to do some scratchin'."
Angel ignored her remark and left. One of her father's concessions to his daughter was a small yellow sports car. Angel had been driving since she was thirteen but she had always been accompanied by Verbena or one of the other servants. Today she was alone.
She started up the car and sped down the mountainside toward Montego Bay. It was August-off-season for tourists and the colorful Caribbean town was uncrowded. Angel drove through the narrow cobblestone streets past pink and lime stucco houses and black street vendors until she came to her father's shop. She parked the car and checked herself in the reflection of the store window. She peered inside, but no Damien.
He must be around back, she thought. She went down the back alley to the back of the shop where she found Damien unloading a shipment from Paris. He was shirtless and his muscular upper body was streaked with sweat. She stood still for a moment and watched him. He was wearing only faded jeans and sandals and she followed his movements as he lifted and bent, unpacking the crates. She marveled at the sensual movements of his legs and thighs and buttocks straining in the tight confines of his pants.
Damien felt her presence and turned to look at Angel as if she were something cold to drink. For awhile they didn't speak, but looked at each other openly. The electricity of their emotions passed back and forth from body to body. Damien began to get an erection and he became flustered and began working again. Angel moved toward him until the hem of her dress touched his leg. He froze.
"Damien, father's gone away for awhile and I'm all alone and bored. Why don't you take me out tonight?"
She pressed her breasts against his chest and the sweat from his body stained the sheer material covering her nipples. He knew that if he did as she asked and her father found out, he would be fired. But he didn't care. He could feel the heat from her body. It felt hotter than the burning sun above.
"Yes ... yes," he replied dumbly.
"I'll pick you up here at eight o'clock. Is that all right?"
He nodded silently and wondered if he'd be able to wait until then.
Angel brushed her lips against his damp cheek, turned in a flounce of white, and left. Damien stared after her ... clutching his aching groin.
Angel drove back to Cinnamon Hall, as her father's house was called, and spent the rest of the day preparing for the evening. She selected a sheer print dress to wear. She shortened the hem by about four inches and lowered the neckline. She had a light dinner with Verbena who kept watching her with amused eyes.
"Yo' look like yo' swallowed the canary."
"Not yet, Verbena, but I intend to. I'm going out with Damien tonight and if you tell my father I'll get you sent back to Haiti!"
"Oh, no, Miss Angel. Yo' daddy won't hear nothin' from Verbena."
After dinner Angel bathed herself in a fragrant oil bath and then she made herself up very carefully, highlighting her sensuous lips with a pink lip glaze and emphasizing her violet eyes with the slightest hint of eye-shadow. She slipped into her redesigned dress and stood looking at her reflection. She was happy with what she saw.
"I look older-and very desirable."
The light from behind her silhouetted her nubile body beneath the sheer fabric of the dress. On her way through the garden she picked a stem of honeysuckle and thrust it between the valley of her breasts.
As she reached her car, the sun had given up for the day and a thin slice of crescent moon was beginning to appear in the night sky. Angel spotted the first star, silently made her wish, and drove off to meet her first real lover.
Angel arrived at the shop a few minutes after eight. Damien was waiting. He was wearing sandals, a white turtle-neck shirt, denim jacket and white duck pants. The pants were skin tight and Angel could see the outline of his cock. She checked herself-that would come later she thought. He smiled gently at her but his eyes were burning.
"Hi! You look beautiful, Angel."
"So do you Damien. Do you want to drive?"
Damien nodded. She moved over and he sat next to her. Their thighs touched and a shock ran through her body, reminding her of the time she had touched an open socket when she was a little girl. He turned to her.
"Where would you like to go? To a club?" he asked.
"No. No, I don't feel like being indoors. Let's just drive."
Damien turned the car around and drove away from civilization, past the savannah and toward the inland rain forest. The warm night breeze licked their faces and contributed to their sensuality. As they neared the rain forest, the air became filled with the scent of freshly rained-on flowers.
"Let's stop here," said Angel.
Damien pulled the car up under a giant satinwood tree weeping with vines, and turned off the motor.
"Aren't you afraid of the spirits," Damien asked.
Angel didn't reply, but ran the tips of her fingers lightly down his cheek. He took her hand and softly kissed her fingers, then took them one by one into his mouth and sucked them.
"Let's go for a walk," said Damien. His voice became a hoarse whisper. They got out of the car. There was no entrance into the rain forest, just the beginnings of several paths.
"That way," Angel said, selecting a path that was bright with orchids. He took her hand in his and they entered the dark forest. Inside the rain, forest it was like being in a tall cathedral made not of stone, but of trees and vines and flowers. Scraps of moonlight guided them and bird calls welcomed them. The ground was covered with moss and Angel reached down and took off her shoes. She wriggled her toes in the soft carpet of the rain forest.
Damien watched her and could not hold back any longer. He pulled her to him with such force that they lost their balance and fell, still embracing.
"Oh, God, Angel ... I want you!"
She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. Her hair had become undone and was tangled around both their heads. The honeysuckle between her breasts was crushed against his broad chest. He opened his mouth and covered her lips. His tongue parted her lips as he slid it inside to find hers. Angel responded to his kiss by rubbing her tongue against his, sliding it out of her mouth and into his, touching and exploring the entire inside of his mouth. They had to break for breath, their faces wet with each other's saliva.
"I've got to have you, Angel!"
Angel ran her tongue over her lips and laughed seductively as she rolled away from him.
"Then you'll have to catch me," she said as she scrambled to her feet and ran away from him.
Damien got up smiling, "I'll catch you all right!"
Angel ran further into the rain forest with Damien close behind her. She was filled with a kind of perverse excitement that comes from putting off something pleasurable just a little while longer. She hid behind a tree and let him pass her. She could see him stop and look around, puzzled. She giggled and ran in another direction. He turned in time to see her disappear into the shadows behind him.
Angel ran until she was at the other edge of rain forest where a graveyard began. She hung her shoes on a tree limb and continued on, tingling with excitement. It took Damien a little while to find Angel's direction. His eyes caught the shoes-still swinging from the tree limb. He took them down and tucked them each in a back pocket and walked on until he came to a bush that was growing an unusual product.
Angel's dress!
He picked it off the bush with a trembling hand and involuntarily ran his other hand down to his cock which was agonizingly hard and threatening to burst through the material of his pants.
His mind raced. Which direction? Certainly not the graveyard-not even Angel ...
But there it was, hanging on the wrought iron gate and blowing gently in the breeze like a flag of surrender.
Angel's bra!
He was sweating now and having difficulty catching his breath, not from the race, but from knowing what was at the finish line! He slipped through the gate and stared before him. He could see nothing but rows and rows of eroding tombstones grinning at him like uneven teeth in a black mouth. He walked straight into the graveyard, looking from side to side for some sign of Angel. He stopped. Hanging over the edge of a stone were Angel's sheer panties.
Some sign!
He picked them up and pressed his face into them. They were slightly moist and smelled of cologne and the sweetness of a young girl's body. A cloud moved away from the sliver of moon and he saw her-poised on a chair-high stone-nude and in the, frozen position of an angelic statue. Her body was beautiful! High graceful breasts pushed toward the sky, the line of her rib cage melted into lovely rounded hips and her legs were long and supple, exquisitely shaped. Damien walked toward Angel as if he were in a trance, dropping her clothes and shedding his own. By the time he reached her, he, too, was nude.
She looked down at him. "You caught me," she said softly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face between her breasts. He could feel her heart beating as quickly as his own. The scent of the crushed honeysuckle was still there, clinging to her flesh. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue wetly over her breasts. Angel sighed and twisted his curly black hair through her fingers. He caressed her firm, young breasts. After he had completely licked them with his tongue, he made small teasing circles around each nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. He could feel her nipple grow rigid in his mouth. He sucked it softly at first and then with more pressure. He bit on it lightly and then moved on to the next to repeat the action.
Angel leaned forward and kissed his hair, running her tongue over his curls and pulling on them with her teeth.
"Go on, Damien. Go on!"
He went on. His tongue left a slick trail down her stomach. He stopped at her navel and twirled around inside it ... and then onward. He could feel the soft brush of her pubic hair against his chin and then against his lips. Through Angel's downy pubic hair, Damien could see the delicate pink slit of her vaginal lips. He moved her legs further apart and pressed the lower half of his face against her crotch, moving his face from side to side and rubbing it against her. He ran his tongue lightly over her lips, then opened his mouth and covered her completely. Angel gasped and pulled his head in closer to her. He sucked noisily on her cunt, finally pulling away and, grinning with pleasure, sang: "Angel is the perfect name for you-this is heaven!"
With the forefinger of each hand, he gently parted her outer lips and buried his mouth once again over the pink velvet of her cunt. He forked his tongue inside, laving the soft membranes of her vaginal walls. His tongue tickled her clitoris and he sucked and chewed on it until it grew as hard as a nut. He wrapped his hands around her buttocks and began pulling her down. As he did, his mouth kept working-up her stomach, over her breasts, across her throat, and, finally, his mouth, still wet from her cunt, was pressed against hers once more and he was filling her mouth with his tongue.
They were both on their knees now, facing each other, their hands rapidly touching and exploring each other's body. Angel ran her hands over the smooth skin of Damien's back. It was hairless except for a small circular pattern of hair at the base of his spine. She felt his buttocks. They were firm and indented on either side. She slipped her hand between them and clasped his cock-it was the first time she had ever touched a man's sexual organ. She loved the feel of it, soft, but muscular and so big ...
Damien was well set up. Soft, his cock was about five inches long and it could grow to a length of about eight or nine inches depending on how excited he was. Right now it was nine inches ... and Angel wondered if she'd be able to take him. His cock felt good, but she wanted to see it-see it up close.
"Damien-I want to do it to you!"
Damien lay back on the soft grass, his cock pointing skyward. Angel knelt over him and looked at it. It wasn't just long, it was also thick and lightly laced with a network of almost imperceptible blue veins. The head of it was large and shiny and reminded Angel of a Christmas tree ornament Beneath his cock, resting against his thigh, were two large testicles. She touched them. The skin was soft like a fine material. Angel leaned forward and touched one of his balls with her tongue. Damien's body jumped and he moaned loudly as she ran her tongue all over it and opened her mouth to let it slip inside. He reached down and felt her lips surrounding the skin of his scrotum. With two fingers he moved his other ball to her mouth and slowly stuffed it inside till it was beside its mate. He ran his finger over her wet lips and in and out of her mouth as she sucked on his balls.
Angel was delighted that she seemed to be pleasing him. She liked the feel of his fleshy toys filling her mouth and she ran her tongue over and around them. After a while she pulled her mouth away and moved upwards. She flattened out her tongue and ran it up the underside of Damien's cock, up over the thick cord until she reached the head. She moved her tongue over it in the same manner that he had licked her nipples. He seemed to like it. His face was contorted with desire and his arms outstretched, fingers digging into the earth.
"Angel-Angel! Go down on me!" he cried.
She opened her mouth and took the large cockhead inside. He thrust his pelvis up and more of the shaft went down her throat. Angel pushed her head down until she could go no further and stayed there. Damien sensed that she wasn't sure what to do next. He cupped his hands on either side of her face and moved her head up and down-up ... until her mouth almost lost him-and down ... as far as she could take him. Angel picked up the rhythm as he moved his hands away from her head and on to her swinging breasts. As she sucked him, he massaged and caressed the firm flesh. He bucked his hips up higher, urging her to increase the rhythm. Suddenly he felt the unmistakable sweetness of an oncoming climax.
"No!" he cried as he pulled away from her mouth and then more softly he said, " ... I don't want to come yet."
He held her in his arms and kissed her. As he did he guided her onto the ground and lay on top of her, holding her tightly until his ensuing climax passed. Then he pressed the head of his cock against the lips of her cunt. Angel moved her legs apart and pushed against him. Quickly he rolled away from her. From the expression on his face she could tell what he was thinking.
"Damien-please-I want it, too! Don't think of me as any different from any other girls you've had sex with. Treat me the same."
"But you are different, Angel. You're better than they are."
"Am I? Then teach me to be better!"
She grabbed his cock and pulled him toward her.
"I want you, Quentin-I want you to-fuck me."
Her words made him dizzy with passion-words he had imagined her saying to him since he first saw her. He was ready now. He pressed his cockhead against her moist cuntlips, they parted and he slipped inside. There was a moment of pain. Angel cried out and he covered her mouth with his.
"Relax, Angel, relax."
Damien slowly worked his cock into her lush interior until he was all the way in. The brief pain had caused her eyes to tear and he kissed away the salty drops.
"Oh, Damien, you feel so-so good inside me. Guide me now. I want to learn!"
"Just follow me, Angel, and hang on-it's all fun!"
He started the rhythm slowly at first and then increased it. He reached under her buttocks and lifted her legs up until they were wrapped around the small of his back, allowing his thrusts to be deeper and more pleasurable to both of them. Damien eased his hands between their bodies and clasped her clitoris between his two fingers. He squeezed and pinched it, doubling her passion. They wildly licked each other's faces as they fucked with complete abandon. They rolled over on their sides without breaking the rhythm. He moved her legs higher and higher until they were nearly behind his head. Damien was ready to come, but he was waiting for Angel. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted them to come together. Angel gasped.
Damien let himself go. He began working faster, his balls became tighter as ...
"Oooooo ... sweet Damien!" Angel screamed. Damien screamed, too, as his cock exploded into her steaming cunt. Their juices mixed inside her as they thrashed around on the ground, hanging onto each other like it was the end of the world-or the beginning!
They lay for a long time with their arms around each other. All was quiet. Even the din of the night birds in the rain forest had ceased. It seemed to Angel as if the earth itself had stopped spinning on its axis. Damien gently withdrew from her and gathered her in his arms. Her moonlit hair spilled across his tanned chest. They said nothing but stared at the stars and enjoyed the warmth of their bodies and their sexual satisfaction.
"Damien?"
"Mmmmm?"
"Was I ... good? Was I ... ?"
"Good? You were fabulous! I'll write you a testimonial! Angel, if it's not crude of me to ask ... I'd like to know where you learned all of that."
Angel smiled to herself.
"Instinct, I suppose ... since you were the very first."
"The first? But ..."
"I had an accident," she replied, crossing her fingers.
Damien helped Angel to her feet. They were both streaked with sweat and dirt and grass stains. They laughed together.
"We must look terrible," said Damien. "C'mon, let's go to the falls and wash up."
They gathered up their clothes and walked arm and arm through the rain forest to the falls.
The falls were actually a collection of four or five small waterfalls which spilled down a small mountain like transparent hair flowing from the head of a beautiful woman. They dropped their clothes at the edge of the pool and waded in. The mountain water was cool but marvelously refreshing. They swam toward the falls where they could stand up. The water cascaded over their bodies and cleansed them both. They held each other tightly and Damien began to get hard again. The length of his cock was pressed against Angel's stomach and was throbbing. She wanted him again, she wanted to go down on him.
He sensed her desires and pulled her under the falls until they were beneath a rock ledge. There, he placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her to her knees. Angel brushed her wet hair away from her face. She kissed Damien's stomach and ran her teeth through his profuse black pubic hair. He pressed his cock against her cheek, rubbing it back and forth over her pink skin. Angel blew hot breaths over the base of it and took it in her hands. Even with both of her small hands wrapped around it, there was still enough to fill her mouth. She opened wide and took him inside.
"Jesus," sighed Damien. Her mouth felt as good to him as her cunt had. Angel "stretched her lips over it and toyed with the head of his cock with her tongue as she sucked him. Damien spread his legs further apart and squeezed his own balls as he bucked forward lunging down her hungry throat.
One of his hands left his balls and ran over her lips, exulting at the feeling of touching lips that were sucking him off. He slipped a finger inside her mouth and felt the side of his cock and her tongue. He kept it there while she sucked him ravenously. Damien couldn't hold back. He generally didn't come so quickly ... perhaps it was the night ... or Angel ... but he didn't care. He just gave in and let himself go. His buttocks and the muscles in his legs and thighs tensed and he cried out:
"Here it comes, Angel. Swallow me!"
He shot down her throat. For a moment Angel was afraid that she would choke, but she managed to keep swallowing him-all of him-savoring each drop of this new taste sensation. She was reluctant to let go of him. She sucked until he began to grow soft in her mouth, a marvelous feeling to her. His soft cock was so pliable as taffy. Finally she released him. Damien's eyes were rolled back in his head and his body was still shuddering. Angel stood up and kissed his nose.
"How did I taste?" he asked her.
Angel didn't answer, but kissed him passionately.
Their tongues met and their saliva mixed.
"How did you taste?" she smiled at him questioningly.
Damien licked his lips. "Not bad! I'll have to try me sometime!"
Angel turned and peered into the blackness of the cave under the waterfall. "Look," she cried. Far back in the cave, almost covered by watery shadows was a crude stone altar which was surrounded by various small wooden carvings of human figures.
"Voodoo!" exclaimed Damien. "But here?"
"Sure, here," replied Angel. "Some of the natives who came from Haiti here still practice it. My companion Verbena told me all about it. I wonder if it really works?"
"I guess anything works if you believe it hard enough," replied Damien. "C'mon let's get out of here."
They left, but not before Angel took one last look over her shoulder at the strange sight.
They were both dry when they reached the car. Damien started to dress. Angel stopped him.
"No! Let's drive back naked!"
"You're crazy," he said. "We'll be arrested or something."
"No we won't. If we see anybody I'll cover us up with my dress. Besides, I want to be able to touch you while we drive." They got into the car and left the rain forest. As they sped back to town, Damien had one hand on the wheel and the other between Angel's thighs. Her hand was also between his legs.
"Come back to Cinnamon Hall, Damien, and sleep with me."
"But ... the servants ... "
"The servants will do as I say. Please ... I want to sleep with you."
Damien drove back to Cinnamon Hall. It wasn't till he stopped the car that he realized ...
"How in the hell will we be able to get inside? We're both naked. We'd better get dressed."
"Why bother, Damien? We'll only have to get undressed again. Besides no one will be up now."
They entered through the kitchen door. The house seemed quiet. She asked him if he were hungry.
"I'm starving!" he replied.
She opened the refrigerator and piled some cold chicken, some cheese and some fruit on a plate and then she took out a bottle of white Chablis.
"There's a corkscrew in that drawer, Damien. Will you get it?"
Just as he opened the drawer she had indicated, the lights in the kitchen went on. There, standing in her nightdress, was Verbena.
"I thought I heard ... "
She got no further. Her eyes bulged out of her head like squeezed grapes as she stared at Damien and Angel in their altogether. Angel smiled and said lightly: "It's just us, Verbena. We're awfully hungry since we just spent the entire evening fucking!"
Verbena eyed Damien's cock appreciatively.
"My-oh-my!" she muttered as she sauntered out of the kitchen and back to her room.
Angel and Damien collapsed in giggles and were still laughing as they went up the back stairs to Angel's room. She turned on the ceiling fan, opened the shutters and pulled the mosquito netting around the bed. They both sat down on the large bed, ate the food and drank the wine until they were satisfied. Then, they brushed the crumbs out of the bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.
Chapter Two
Angel stirred in bed. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. She opened her violet eyes partway. Something seemed different. Then she remembered that for the first time she was not sleeping alone. She turned over and watched Damien's handsome face as he slept. His x broad chest slowly moved up and down and his full lips were slightly parted as if in a kiss. She ran her hand over his chest, feeling the soft black hair brush beneath her palm. When she reached his navel the hair got thicker and coarser. Then she touched it.
The cock!
She wrapped her fingers around it. It was soft and spongy. Such a delightful thing to have and it was hers. Angel slid her nude body against Damien's and ran her tongue over his eyelashes. They parted. Damien smiled dreamily and wrapped his arms around her. His cock was expanding in her hand, and Angel wanted to feel it get hard inside her mouth. She quickly moved down, opened her mouth wide and took it inside. Damien shuddered. She put her hands under his fat balls and squeezed them as the prick expanded, completely filling her mouth and giving her a sensational thrill.
"Angel," he groaned, "suck me slow. Real slow."
She slid her tongue around his sensitive undershaft and noisily began to make love to his giant cock. At one point she let it slide out of her mouth and with the tip of her tongue she licked his cock up one side and down the other, running her tongue in maddeningly hot circles around the swollen cockhead.
"I adore your cock, Damien."
He smiled down at her. She opened her mouth and once again took the velvety head of his cock inside. She held his balls in one hand and brought them close to her mouth. Then she left his prick for a moment, shoved the balls into her mouth and sucked them while her fingers jerked up and down on his erect prick. She wanted him to come in her mouth. She wanted to feel his hot juice spurting down her throat.
Damien ran his fingertips through Angel's blond hair, urging her on.
"That's it, Angel. That's it!"
He held onto the back of her head and jammed the full length of his prick down her throat. Angel's eyes brimmed with tears as he fucked her in the mouth.
Oh, God, Angel thought. This is so fantastic. The most marvelous thing I've ever known. Why did I wait so long to know how exciting a man's cock can be?
Damien started to thrash about. Hoarse, wounded sounds came from his throat.
He's coming, she thought to herself. I can feel it swelling up as if it were going to explode. Suddenly Damien's thighs tensed and he began shooting down her throat. Angel swallowed and continued swallowing as he poured his rich juice into her. Finally the giant thing stopped shooting and she could feel him starting to get smaller. She held his cock in her mouth, still sucking on it and making little mewing sounds of delight as it returned to its soft state.
Reluctantly she pulled her mouth away and started to move upwards, but went back to his crotch and kissed the head of it just once more. She wiped the tears from her eyes and slid beside him. Damien wrapped his arms around Angel and she nestled in the warmth of his body.
"What a marvelous way to wake up," he breathed, "but I want to please you, too."
Damien swung over her body and buried his face between her breasts, kneading them against his cheeks.
"Your skin, Angel-I've never felt anything so soft."
His mouth circled the nipple on her left breast slowly. She could feel his hot breath coming closer to the rigid center. Suddenly he opened his mouth and took the nipple inside hungrily, still running his tongue back and forth over the tip of it. At the same time, he kneaded her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it became as hard as the one he was chewing. Then he pulled away from her breasts, parted his lips and his tongue came out. He ran it down the full length of her abdomen, each stroke bringing him closer to her soft pubic hair.
Damien spread her legs apart and blew hot breaths over the tender folds of her pussy. Angel squealed helplessly. His fingers pulled the petals of her cunt apart, making the tiny red knob of her clit stand up hard. Then he began to loll his tongue back and forth on her labial plane, rolling it around the swollen bud. He was driving Angel out of her mind with passion. His tongue, soft and wet, touched the tip of her clit and Angel's body began to shake. She arched her back in rapture and dug her fingers into his bobbing head. Her cunt felt like it was in flames. Suddenly she realized that Damien was nipping her clit between his teeth. She clenched her eyes tightly shut and the fireworks began-bright dazzling colors-brighter than any she'd ever seen in her life. She felt a wave of ecstasy sweep over her body as she climaxed.
Damien continued making hot slurping sounds between her thighs until, like a leaf on the wind, Angel floated down to earth and gently landed. Then she sat up in bed and announced, "I'm hungry. Let's have some breakfast."
Damien started to move.
"No, don't. I want Verbena to serve us in bed."
"But ... "
"She'll do what I ask." Angel slipped out of bed and padded across the floor. She went to the top of the great staircase, leaned over the banister, and called, "Verbena!"
Her companion came out of the kitchen and was started to see her mistress stark naked.
"Angel," she admonished. "What if somebody see yo'?"
"But there's no one in the house except Damien and, after all, you changed my diapers."
"What do' yo' want?"
"I want you to serve us breakfast in bed," said Angel with a tilt of her head. Verbena was reminded of Angel's mother, who also had assumed that haughty stance.
"Breakfast in bed? Now yo' get yo' lazy butt down here and have it in the kitchen wid me, like yo' always do."
Angel leaned further over the balcony and said imploringly, "Oh, please, Verbena. Just this once. It's been so perfect. Please do it just this once."
Verbena clucked her tongue in her cheek and said, "Well, all right, baby, I do it dis time."
Angel ran back to bed and crawled in beside Damien.
"When does your father get back, Angel?"
"Oh, not until the end of the month. We'll have plenty of time together."
"We can't let him find out about this. He'd fire me for sure."
Verbena, looking slightly disgruntled, appeared with a tray of food. She had prepared boiled ackee which had the look and somewhat the texture of the most exquisitely tender scrambled eggs, warm croissants, a pot of steaming Jamaican coffee and a plate of cassava lace cakes with a small jar of honey on the side.
Angel squealed, "Verbena, you're beautiful!"
Verbena grunted and set the tray down on the bed. As she went to open up the blinds, she noted with pleasure the remarkable build on Angel's young man. On the way out the door she dropped her surly tone and said, "Enjoy yo' bickles (food)."
After she left, Damien asked, "How long has she been with you!"
"Ever since I can remember. She took care of me before my mother went away."
"She left your father? I thought she'd died."
"That's what my father says, but she's not dead at all. She's living in New Orleans."
"I get the feeling you don't care for your father much."
"I don't. Do you? How's he to work for?"
"He's tougher than most, but he's a fair man. He pays me a good salary. I rarely see you around the shop anymore."
"My father doesn't like me to go out now that I've grown up. He wants to keep me all for himself."
"I don't blame him."
"But I'm young. I have my own life to lead. It's not fair for him to keep me cooped up here, or always in the company of Verbena. I want to break free and experience things."
"You certainly broke free last night."
After they finished eating, Damien suggested that they take a shower together. That appealed to Angel. The warm water rained over their bodies. Damien took the cake of soap and gently ran it over Angel's soft skin and when he'd finished, he handed it to her and she did the same for him. She marveled at the exciting contours of his youthful male body. How unlike hers, and yet there were certain similarities. She liked his high firm buttocks and the feel of his genitals.
"I want to see you tonight, Angel, after work."
"I'll come pick you up."
They finished their shower, dried each other with soft towels and got dressed. Angel informed Verbena that she was going to drive Damien to Montego Bay. The day was bright and clear and the sun hung in the sky like an overripe orange. As they got closer to Montego Bay, they passed a group of natives who were walking along the side of the road headed for market, carrying their wares on their heads. The children, trailing along behind their mothers, waved at the car as it sped by and Angel waved back. She felt wonderful. Happiness poured out of her body like gentle beams of sunshine. Angel felt relaxed and was excited with her new knowledge of sex.
She pulled the car in front of her father's shop and before Damien could get out, she leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth, disregarding the stares of the passersby.
"I'll see you tonight, Damien."
The shop was located near the waterfront and was called Les Bijoux de Mer-Jewels of the Sea-and specialized in fine handcrafted jewelry created by Maxim Leveque. Among his most popular items was a perfect pearl set on a real seashell which had been dipped in gold or a diamond encrusted seahorse or a series of perfect emeralds sprinkled over a platinum facsimile of a piece of coral. His business had made him wealthy and he counted among his customers the most beautiful and wealthy women in the world. Often at the request of his rich patrons he would blend a one-of-a-kind perfume.
Angel, tired of the little-girl clothes she had been forced to wear, decided to go on a shopping spree. She drove the car through the streets and parked it in front of Hattie's, an expensive shop specializing in resort wear and run by a chic, middle-aged woman named Hattie Hill. There was no one in the shop when Angel entered except Hattie-a tall, gaunt woman who affected an English accent.
"Good morning, Angel," she said, surprised at finding the young girl in her shop.
"Good morning, Miss Hill. I need a few outfits. Would it be all right if I picked out what I want and you can send the bill to Daddy?"
"Why, of course, Angel. Anything you like."
Angel spent the morning trying on clothes. After selecting and rejecting, she finally settled on two sundresses, two cocktail dresses, a bikini bathing suit and quite a few accessories. Miss Hill totaled up the bill and Angel signed it. She knew that her father would be angry, but after she'd worn the clothes, she couldn't bring them back.
Angel loaded the packages in her sports car and drove back up the mountainside to Cinnamon Hall. She parked in the circular driveway which was lined with red Poinsettias, ran across the gravel, threw open the door and yelled for Verbena to come help her unload her purchases. Verbena rushed out, wiping her hands on an apron.
"Amassi, yo' been spending yo' daddy's money on heng-pon-taisl (store bought clothes). Don' yo' like de things I sews up for yo'?"
"Of course I do, Verbena, but they're all too little girlish. I wanted some of today's styles. Come, let's go up to my room and I'll try them on for you."
"Yo' father goin' to give you a kas-kas (quarrel)."
"It'll be worth it."
They went to Angel's room and she tried on the dresses for her companion.
"Dey pretty, but dey mighty grown up."
"I've got one more thing, Verbena."
Angel went into the bathroom and changed into the parrot green bikini.
Verbena stood up. "Yo' ain't goin' round in dat?"
"I'm going to take a sunbath by the pool."
The old black woman shook her head. "Yo' sure got a boughta of bubbeys (you sure have an extra helping of breasts)."
Angel gathered up a beach towel and a tube of Bain de Soleil and headed toward the back of the house. The swimming pool was very large and shaped like a lima bean. At the far end of the pool the vegetation was thicker and standing under a grove of banana trees was a white wrought iron gazebo which her mother had imported from France. Angel noticed, standing in the shadows, the young native man named Lucien who worked the grounds of Cinnamon Hall. He was very muscular and the color of ginger. He was the product of a native mother and a seafaring man who never came back.
His strong muscles flexed involuntarily as he gave the gazebo a fresh coat of white paint. Angel waved and called out his name, "Hello, Lucien."
"Hello, Miss Angel."
He looked at her strangely, then Angel realized the reason. She was wearing the brief bikini. She sat down on a chaise lounge and slowly and methodically began to oil her body with the bronze gel, knowing that he was watching her every move. Then she lay back on the chaise and began to wonder what it would be like to have sex with a black man. She wondered if their cocks were the same-bigger? smaller?-and if they tasted as good as Damien's. She vowed she would find out in the near future.
Angel sunned herself until three in the afternoon. Then she went back upstairs to her cool room and took a long nap.
Verbena called her at six. Angel put on a caftan and went downstairs to the kitchen and ate a dinner of baked fish and fresh fruit with Verbena.
"I takes it yo' goin' out tonight," said Verbena after eyeing her young charge, who was eating rather lightly.
"Yes, I'm meeting Damien at eight o'clock. He's going to take me to some of the clubs."
"What's yo' father goin' to say when he find out yo' been goin' to de night clubs?
"He's not going to find out."
"I suppose yo' gonna' wear one of dose skimpy new dresses of yo's?"
"Yes, and perfume."
Angel went upstairs to shower and prepare for her date with Damien. After showering, she wrapped a towel around her ash blond hair and rubbed the body oil she had bought at Hattie's into her skin. It was an exotic scent-a combination of tuber roses and jasmine. She brushed her hair and curled the ends so that it looked less severe. Then she applied her make-up. A glistening pink lipstick and a light violet eye shadow. Her skin had taken on a bronze, translucent glow from the afternoon sun. Angel slipped into a pair of bikini panties, then took the cocktail dress off the hanger and pulled it over her head. It was soft pink in color, sleeveless and backless. The d�colletage was dangerously low and the fabric across her breasts showed the outline of her nipples. She put on a pair of T-strap shoes which were almost the same shade as the dress.
Verbena was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Angel posed elegantly at the top against the banister before descending.
"Yo' look mighty beautifully, my Angel."
"I am, aren't I?" she cried with girlish delight and ran down the rest of the stairs.
Angel drove at a fast speed down the mountainside. The wind blew through her ash blond tresses and added to the excited feeling she had of seeing Damien again. He was waiting in front of the shop wearing a forest green safari suit and no shirt. At that moment she thought he was the handsomest man she'd ever seen. She scooted over in the car seat and allowed him to drive.
Damien kissed her on the tip of her nose and said, "You look good enough to eat. I was afraid you weren't going to come. It's way after eight."
"I'm sorry, but of course you knew I'd come. I should have picked you up where you live. But I don't know where you where you live."
"I have some rooms over the Spice Shop."
"The rooms must be filled with delicious smells."
"You smell better. Where would you like to go?"
"Some place that isn't for tourists."
"I'll take you to Le Coq Vert."
"I've heard of it. That's supposed to be a rather wild place."
"Not really. Better class natives go there and white islanders who want to avoid the tourist haunts."
"Why do they call it the Green Cock?"
"There's a belief among some of the natives that if a man owns a green rooster, he will have sexual power for the rest of his life."
"I hope you find one."
They drove away from Montego Bay in the opposite direction from Cinnamon Hall, through the native section of town which consisted of small, ramshackle huts made from tin scraps, Coca Cola signs and bamboo. They started up another mountain and when they reached a plateau, Damien turned off the main road. Low hanging branches barely missed the top of the car.
"I can't imagine a nightclub being up here."
"That's what makes it unique."
Suddenly the vegetation gave way and the club appeared. Angel marveled at the magnificent view which spread nearly three thousand feet below them. At the foot of the mountain lay the village of Montego Bay, its night lights glittering like fallen stars.
"It's beautiful, Damien. I've never been up here before."
He took her hand. "Come, let me take you inside and introduce you to Maman Lousienne. She runs the place."
The Green Cock was a rambling, colonial style, eighteenth century home which had seen better days. The only thing to identify it as a restaurant was a large native painting of a green rooster done on a plank of wood affixed to the entrance way.
When they entered, a fat black woman wearing an improbable orange dress with ruffles in all the wrong places waddled over to them.
"Maman Lousienne," he said, and hugged her. "This is Angel Leveque."
"Yo' mean Maxim's daughter?" the woman whispered.
"The same."
She held out her hand, "Welcome, Angel. Yo' make a beautiful couple. Come, let me show yo' to a nice table." She took them out on the verandah, which overlooked the Caribbean.
"I don't know what to order to drink, Damien. I've never had anything except an occasional glass of champagne or wine on holidays."
"I think you'd like a rum coco." He ordered two rum cocos from the young black waiter.
When the drinks arrived, Angel was delighted. "They're delicious," she said, sipping from the straw which stuck out of the coconut shell.
"Don't drink them too fast or you'll lose control."
"I want to lose control tonight." She kicked off her right shoe and slid her bare foot up Damien's calf.
He glanced down nervously, but realized that the tablecloth was covering the action.
Angel scooted forward in her chair. Her foot slid between his legs and the sole came to rest over his crotch. At her touch his cock began to stiffen in his pants. Angel could feel it growing and it sent shivers of sensual delight through her body.
"Take it out," she whispered.
"Here?"
"Yes!"
He reached down, unzipped his fly and took his large cock and heavy balls out of his pants.
Rubbing her foot over his hot flesh, Angel said lazily, "I think I'll have another rum coco."
Chapter Three
Damien called Mama Louisienne and ordered two more rum cocos. When they arrived, Angel put the straw between her lips and sucked until she had finished it.
"I want you to make love to me."
Damien paid the bill and after some difficulty managed to get his cock and balls tucked back into his pants.
"Angel, walk in front of me."
When he got up she stared at the outline of his erect cock, which was clearly visible in the polished cotton pants. She stepped in front of him. He put his arm around her shoulder and they left the Coq Vert. When they reached the sports car, Angel clasped her hand over Damien's crotch and squeezed his thick shaft. She unzipped him and slid her small hand into his pants and emerged holding the thick shaft of Damien's cock.
"I want to suck you, Damien."
"Here?" he asked, glancing around the parking lot.
"There's nobody around. You can watch for anybody coming out of the club."
Damien undid the top of his pants and pulled them down to his knees. He lay his head back against the leather upholstery of the car seat and waited for the inevitable to happen. Angel cupped his balls in one hand and squeezed them lightly. She moved her other hand up and down on his cock and stared at it with fascination. Then she leaned forward. Damien groaned when he felt her breath on his hard flesh. Her beautiful mouth opened and her wet pink tongue darted out to touch the head of his cock.
"I want it in my mouth," she murmured lustfully.
Her lips attached themselves around the head of his cock and she inserted the hot tip of her tongue into the small hole. Then she ran her tongue up and down the full length of his shaft, leaving a small, wet trail.
"Take me, Angel. Take all of me in your mouth."
She opened her mouth wide, pressing his cock between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and slowly forced her head down on it. She squeezed his balls harder as she moved downward, until the head of Damien's cock touched the back of her throat. Slowly she pulled her head back up, exerting a strong sucking pressure. Then she let the head of his cock slide out of her mouth, lapped the tip of it with her tongue, and began her descent once again. Angel began accelerating her movements until Damien's cock felt like it was going to explode.
Damien thrust his pelvis upward, slamming more of the cock down Angel's throat. Damien bit on his lower lip and felt the first surges of an approaching climax begin to gather deep within him. He ran his fingers through Angel's ash blond hair, and as she sucked downward, he fucked upward. She continued moving her head up and down with increased speed and Damien could feel control of his climax slipping away. He held onto it as long as he possibly could, enjoying the wonderful sensation of Angel sucking his cock. But he couldn't hold back any longer. He pushed the hair out of her face so he could watch his cock going in and out of her mouth.
"Oh God, Angel, I'm going to come, I'm going to come!"
He pushed his hips upward and suddenly it started. Thrashing his head from side to side, he gasped and groaned as the semen began gushing from his cock in hot spurts. Angel held onto the base of his cock as she eagerly sucked the come from his cock and swallowed it. She squeezed his balls and massaged his cock until she had every last drop of his juice. She continued sucking on him until he was limp. Then she lifted her head and pressed her mouth against his. Damien fondled her breasts and was about to untie the straps of her dress when suddenly he saw headlights approaching. They straightened up and Damien started up the motor. Another car entered the parking lot as they drove back over the narrow roadway.
"Goddammit, Angel, I want you, too!"
Damien turned the sports car off the road and drove over clumps of fern until the foliage completely surrounded them. He jumped out of the car, walked around to her side, opened the door and took her by the hand. He led her to the front of the car, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and began unzipping the back of her dress.
She said, "Do you want me to take it off, darling?"
"Yes, take it off."
Angel stepped out of her dress. She was wearing nothing but the bikini underwear. His hands slid inside the waistband, and he knelt on the ground pulling her pants down as he did. She kicked them aside and Damien buried his face between her legs and inhaled the warm sweet fragrance of her body.
"Lie down on the hood of the car."
The enamel felt cool and smooth to her body. She looked up through the tops of the trees and saw the man in the moon, who seemed to be smiling at her.
Damien moved her feet up toward her hips and flexed her knees, spreading her legs apart. He bent his head and kissed her flat stomach, driving the tip of his tongue into her navel and gently nibbling her soft skin with his teeth. Angel's body trembled as his lips touched her downy pubic hair and chewed on it. Damien let his lips, tongue and breath caress the lower part of her stomach and suddenly he flicked out his tongue and touched her vulva. Angel cried out and seized the back of his head between her hands and spread her legs wider apart. Slowly she began undulating her hips as she pressed her cunt to his lips. Damien stiffened his tongue as he searched for the opening of her pussy. He rammed his tongue in and out of her hot hole and touched the tip of her clitoris. Angel groaned and smiled at the man in the moon. Damien's mouth and cheeks were wet from his own saliva. He increased his lapping, then paused to bite her clitoris. He caught it between his teeth pressing gently at first, and then harder.
"Damien," she squealed. "It's happening, it's happening."
His fingers dug into the round globes of her buttocks as he lapped at her cunt like a man possessed. Angel screamed as the first wave of orgasm swept over her. The moon seemed to be spinning in the sky and she felt as though she were falling from a great height. She stopped trembling and opened her eyes. This time the man in the moon was winking at her. Damien helped her to her feet and she got back into her dress. They searched for a few minutes, but couldn't find her panties.
"It doesn't matter, Damien. It feels better without them anyway."
They had some difficulty getting back on the road, but managed.
"Where to now, Angel?"
"Let's go back to Cinnamon Hall and go to bed together."
Verbena heard the sound of the tires crunching over the gravel and she knew her mistress was home. She had been sitting on the veranda enjoying her free time. She got to her feet and went to greet them.
"Amassi, it mus' be pas' midnight."
"Don't scold me for being out late. We had a wonderful time."
"Better have de times now befo' de father come back."
"Exactly. Do you know how to make a rum and coco?"
"Yo' wants drinks now? Sure I knows how. Yo' father, he like 'em once in awhile."
"Make two of them, Verbena. We'll be in the gazebo."
The old woman went into the house shaking her head and muttering in Haitian. They walked past the swimming pool toward the white wrought iron gazebo.
"This was my mother's favorite place. She had it brought all the way from France."
The inside of the gazebo was decorated in citrus colors. The night breeze stirred the glass prisms which were hanging from the ceiling along with earthen pots containing curling vines and lacy fern. The gazebo was not wired for electricity. Angel went to a tortoise-shell table. On the top sat a candle encased in emerald green glass. She felt around for a box of kitchen matches and lighted the candle, which lent a slightly mystical glow to the interior of the gazebo. Angel laid down on the chaise lounge and Damien sat beside her. The night air was filled with the scent of the garden flowers and slightly tinged with the odor of the white enamel, which Lucien had used for painting the wrought iron grill work.
"Be careful of the grill work, Damien, it might still be wet. One of the servants was painting it today. Evidently he didn't get finished. I can see where he stopped over there."
She reached out the tip of her finger and touched the paint. It was dry. Angel saw the tall, dark figure of Verbena approaching and got to her feet.
"I'll take them, Verbena."
She held out her hands to receive the tray on which were the coconut shells filled with rum cocos.
"Don't yo' tell yo' Daddy I been fixin' dese things for yo'. He send me back to Haiti fo' sure."
Angel laughed. "I'm not going to tell him anything. Thank you, Verbena."
Angel leaned forward and kissed Verbena on the cheek before she sauntered back to the house.
"You enjoy defying your father, don't you, Angel?"
"Yes, I do," she replied with a sharp edge to her voice. "I've never liked him. We've never gotten along. He's always kept me secluded from other children. I had private tutors who taught me at the house. When I got older he still didn't want me to have friends. It's always been that way ever since my mother left."
"Why did your mother leave him?"
"Because he caught her sleeping with another man. A native who worked for my father."
Damien's eyes stared at her in disbelief.
"It's true. I remember the afternoon. I saw it all. My father killed the man, shot him. I ran onto the balcony and begged him not to. You see, my father was away on business all the time, and my mother, well, she drank a bit, and I guess she was lonely. So she took herself a lover. I didn't understand at the time what they were doing, but I knew every time my father left the island that she would see Touro. He was a magnificent looking man, extremely tall. It seemed to me that he reached the sky."
Angel found herself recalling her mother's lover and thinking about him from a different viewpoint and her mind switched to Lucien, the servant who had been painting the gazebo that afternoon. She suddenly realized why she was attracted to Lucien. He reminded her of Touro. She smiled secretly to herself. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.
"A penny for your thoughts," asked Damien.
"They're worth a good deal more than that," she replied slyly. She ran her hand up the inside of his thigh and rubbed the bulge in his trousers.
"God, Angel, you're insatiable."
Damien stood up and started to undo his pants.
"No, not here, Damien. In the house, in my father's room, in the bed he once shared with my mother. The same bed that she shared with Touro, that's where I want you to make love to me."
"But why?"
"Because I just want to."
Angel became excited at the thought and could feel the lips of her cunt tingle and burn.
"Come on. We'll take the rum and cocos with us."
They went up the back stairway which led to the balcony and her father's room. She pushed open the sliding doors to the master bedroom and they went inside. The room smelled musty from not being used. Angel picked up a bottle of one of her father's colognes, a lemon scented mixture that he had concocted for his own use. She pulled down the covers on the bed and sprinkled it over the sheets and flung it into the air until the entire room smelled lemony.
"I feel like we're floating in a cool lemon drink," Angel said.
The two young people undressed and laid down on the huge bed. The headboard had an oval mirror and on either side were intricately carved mermaids with their hands behind their heads.
"Where did you ever get this bed?"
"Another one of my mother's imports."
Angel propped herself up on one elbow and leaned down toward Damien's crotch. She stuck out her tongue and licked the head of Damien's prick. His cock began to throb and get erect. She put her hands around it and opened her mouth wide sliding the cock between her lips.
"Jesus, Angel, Jesus."
Once Damien was fully erect, she coated his cock with long wet swipes of her tongue, then lay back on the bed. Damien rolled over, got between her legs and spread her thighs apart. He slid his hands beneath her buttocks and moved her pussy to his cock. Her soft vulva was hot and burning and still damp from the licking he had given it on the hood of the car.
His cock easily slid into her moist channel. He thrust his hips forward and Angel let out a loud gasp as he filled her up completely. He moved his hands upward to grip her waist and began undulating his hips. Spreading her legs wider, he lifted her buttocks off the bed and turned her pussy up to his cock while he gradually worked it all the way into her. He began squeezing her full breasts as he pumped his cock in and out of her hot cunt. His cock was in all the way up to the thick part of the base. He lay down on top of her and pressed his lips against hers. Angel opened her mouth and Damien slid in his tongue. Damien was fucking her in the mouth with long strokes of his tongue with, the same rhythm with which he was fucking her cunt with his pulsating cock. Damien's tongue probed her mouth and traced the outlines of her teeth and touched the roof of her mouth. Their kissing was frenzied and their saliva mixed. His balls began making a dull slapping sound against the back of her buttocks each time he pressed into her.
"Darling," Angel said pulling her mouth away from his, "let's try it another way."
"All right," Damien replied. "Wrap your arms around my neck and hang on."
Damien rolled over, his cock still embedded in her cunt.
"You sit up over me."
Angel put her hands on his waist and raised herself up until just the head of his cock was still inside her.
"Now slowly take my cock back into you."
"Ah, ah, that's it."
Angel caught on to the new position quickly and began moving up and down on Damien's cock.
"Rotate your hips."
Damien gripped her thighs driving his cock all the way up into her. Angel closed her eyes and savored the sensation that the new position was bringing to her. Damien slid his hand down between her legs. He stroked the parted lips of her cunt and reached inside to finger her clitoris using the same rhythm that his cock was sliding into her. Angel moved up and down more rapidly. Her legs began trembling from the exertion. Damien bucked his ass up and fucked her with long hard strokes as she thrust her pussy down, with driving lunges.
"I'm going to come, Angel! I can't hold it back!" he cried out.
"I am too. I'm commmmmmmiiiiiinnnnnngggg!"
His semen spurted out in hot thick gushes and he drove it deep into her stomach with pounding thrusts of his cock. Angel wailed as she surged over the peak. Their bodies continued working together as they enjoyed their simultaneous climax. Finally their movements became weaker and she collapsed on top of Damien and wrapped her arms around him and held on until their breathing became normal once again.
"That was fantastic, Damien. How many positions are there?"
"Oh, I don't know. Quite a few."
"I'd like to try them all with you. Each and every one."
"Not tonight, I hope."
"No, not tonight, but there will be other nights."
Angel rolled away from him and his cock came sliding out of her cunt coated with a mixture of their juices. She went to her father's bathroom, got a towel and brought it to him. After mopping him up she went back into the bathroom to rinse her body. When she came back, he was smoking a cigarette. She lay down beside him and fell asleep before he did. He sat finishing his cigarette and watching her sleep, wondering why she wanted to have sex in her father's bed.
The next morning after showering, they had breakfast in the kitchen with Verbena. Then Angel drove Damien down the mountainside so he could change clothes and go to work.
"Will I see you tonight, Angel?"
"I'll call you later, Damien. I'm not sure what my plans are yet."
"Try to be free," he pleaded.
"I'll try."
As Angel started up the mountainside, her mind raced. She was delighted in her new sexual experiences. Damien was a marvelous lover, or so she supposed. After all, she had no way of knowing if other men were better or not. She thought once again of her mother's lover Touro and also of Lucien who would surely be painting the gazebo that afternoon. She was intrigued with the thought of going to bed with a black man. Her mother had done it and enjoyed it. Why not her? After all, she was her mother's daughter. She decided she would lie by the pool that afternoon and see what developed.
She changed into her bikini and went downstairs and into the kitchen. She asked a young servant girl named Calinda if she knew where Verbena was.
"She done gone into town to do some shopping, Miss Angel. Roose done take her."
Roose was an old family servant who acted as her father's chauffeur and also helped around the garden. Verbena and he fought continually, but it was good-natured fighting. Every so often, Verbena would coerce Roose into dressing in his ill-fitting chauffeur's outfit and drive her into Montego Bay to do shopping. Verbena always got very dressed up and, of course, sat in the back of the car as if she were the mistress of Cinnamon Hall. Angel knew that she would be gone the entire afternoon. Besides shopping, Verbena liked to visit her friends in the native quarter and often would see an old Voodoo woman named Maman Lala for advice and consultation.
Angel was practically alone. Calinda would be doing chores in the house the entire day. And Lucien was the only other servant. Angel stopped long enough to get two glasses and a pitcher of limeade from the refrigerator. She saw Lucien, shirtless, painting the gazebo. She waved to him and went to lie down on a chaise lounge which was the closest to the gazebo. She could feel him staring at her and she decided to do something very outrageous. She slipped her hands behind her and untied the top of her bikini and pulled it off. Then she took the suntan lotion, squeezed some of it into her hands and rubbed it over her white breasts. She turned her head toward him and looked through her dark sunglasses.
Lucien had stopped painting and was staring at her, his eyes burning like hot coals. He had set aside the paint brush and was running his hand over the crotch of his white cotton pants. Angel could see the outline of his cock clearly even from her distance. Her nipples tingled, her pussy ached and she knew that she had to have him. She had to find out what it was all about with black men. What had turned her mother on.
"I'll have to be forward," she said to herself. "After all, Lucien wouldn't dare touch me." She decided not to put back on the top of her bikini. She picked up the pitcher of limeade and a glass and brazenly walked toward the gazebo. When Lucien saw her coming, he turned away, busying himself with his painting. As she walked into the gazebo, she saw the muscles on Lucien's back become tense.
"That's hot work, Lucien. Would you like some of my limeade?"
Without turning, he replied, "I guess I would, Miss Angel."
She poured a glass of limeade and walked over to him.
"Here," she said, pressing the cool glass against his back.
There was nothing he could do. He had to turn around. His eyes practically bulged out of his head when he saw that she hadn't put on her bikini top. He took the glass and tried very hard not to stare at her luscious breasts, but he couldn't stop himself. Angel glanced down and saw that his huge cock was sticking straight out, making a tent in the loose fabric of his pants.
"Do you want me, Lucien?"
"How yo' mean, Miss Angel?"
"You know how I mean. Do you want my body? Do you want to make love to me? Do you want to fuck me?"
He glanced down at his feet and shifted from side to side.
"Because that's all right, Lucien, because I want you too. In fact, I want you very much."
She took the glass of limeade from his hands and set it down on the table. Then she stepped close to him until the tip of his cock brushed against his thighs. She reached down and rubbed her hand over it. It was bigger than Damien's and thicker and she wanted to see what it looked like.
"Verbena is gone for the afternoon. Roose has taken her shopping, Lucien. There's no one in Cinnamon Hall except for Calinda and she'll be busy in the house all day long."
"What if yo' father find out?"
"How would he find out? I'm not going to tell him and I'm sure you won't."
Angel undid the side ties of her bikini and it fell to the floor. Lucien stared hungrily at the soft blond "V" of hair between her legs. Then she untied the string which was holding up Lucien's pants. They fell down and his cock flopped free. It was huge. Larger than her father's and Damien's. She estimated that it was between eight and nine inches long. It was hard, angry looking, and laced with bulging veins which stood out pink against the ginger color of his shaft. His balls were huge, too, and hung low. Angel had the desire to touch them, to weigh them in her hand, and she did. She pressed her body against his cock, rubbing her pussy mound against it, back and forth, all the time whispering to Lucien, "I want you to do it, Lucien. I want you to. Father will never find out, I promise you."
She ran her fingers over his naked body, caressing him where he was most sensitive. Her eyes glowed lustfully as she taunted him. Lucien reached out with his strong arms and pulled her even closer, running his hands over her yearning breasts. His hands roamed over her sides, her waist, her stomach, her flaring hips and then over her round buttocks and back up to her breasts. Angel slid her hands around his neck and slowly pulled him down to the floor of the gazebo. They lay facing each other and she felt his fully erect prick poke at her moist mound. His left hand caressed one of her breasts while his other hand fondled her buttocks.
"I want it, Lucien, I want it!"
"Yo' so beautiful, Miss Angel."
His hands moved slowly down her back, over her spine to the twin globes of her firm ass. She sighed at his touch and felt him easing her buttocks in order to move her pussy mound closer to his hard cock.
"Do it," she begged, "please do it to me. Fuck me!"
She pressed her lips against his lips, spearing her tongue between his parted lips, trembling as his hands moved over her, feeling every curve of her young, ripe body. He looked at her with slitted eyes, and his breathing became more rapid. She parted her thighs and quickly caught his hard cock in their satiny warmth. He cupped the cheeks of her buttocks and squeezing them hard, he dragged his fingers teasingly along the crease until they came in contact with her soft blond pubic hair curling around her yearning slit. He pressed his finger between the warm lips of her vagina and Angel's hips jerked spasmodically. He turned her over on her back and his hands traveled over every swell and indentation of her pink glowing body. Angel mewed like a kitten as his hands moved over her. Her body was burning with desire and the hot flame of lust burned her thighs and her extended nipples. Her cunt was now the searing core of her need.
"Do it, Lucien," she commanded, "do it now!"
She smashed her lips against his and he felt the rigid thrust of her tongue as it shot into his mouth. His hands parted her thighs wider and he felt the heat and moisture of her pulsating slit. Her arms reached up and pulled him down closer to her unresisting thighs, to the wet throbbing core of her cunt.
"Put it in, Lucien," she said urgently.
Lucien gasped as her hand slid between their bodies and grasped his cock. Her hand began to move slowly up and down on his shaft, making him groan and twitch his hips. Her fingers tortured his hard cock and he felt the brush of her damp cunt hair as she rubbed the head of his cock against it.
Lucien did not rush. He didn't want to hurry the final thrust. He delayed the final plunge that would join them together and fuse them into a wet, pulsing mating of mistress and servant.
"Now, Lucien, now!"
She arched her body up against him. He continued hovering over her, delaying the final downward slam of his body. She grabbed hold of his balls and squeezed them hard.
"Fuck me," she pleaded with a desperate edge to her voice.
Lucien shifted his body and fit himself directly between her open thighs. He took his cock in his hand and guided it into her parted vaginal lips with one long, slow, smooth stroke.
"Oh, that's it!" Angel cried out.
His cock moved into the warm cave of her vagina, and the wet walls of her cunt clasped him moistly and firmly. Angel wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pushing her full breasts against his muscular chest. Angel began moaning and thrashing under him, meeting him thrust for thrust, her passion so full and burning that it overcame her relative lack of experience. Lucien had never in his life felt such an impassioned response, and it made him want to please her even more. Their heaving bodies were slick with a film of perspiration as they labored together with inspired gyrations. They raced wildly toward the final crashing climax, fucking each other like two people who had gone mad. He drove his jabbing cock in and out of her young cunt up to the hilt. His heavy balls slapped resoundingly against her heaving ass and each jab of his cock brought a mewing sound from her. Twisting and writhing beneath him, she was unable to control the desire which now possessed her. Angel's lips curled back over her white teeth and she hung onto him desperately. Her nails raked over his back and her fingers dug into his buttocks as he pounded up and down over her thrashing body. A wet, sucking sound filled the gazebo as he drove his cock in and out of her cunt. They were both slippery with sweat, and it added to the excitement of their bodies touching, needing, rubbing.
"Faster, Lucien, faster!" she gasped. She was close to orgasm and he was close to his.
"Now," she screamed hotly, "now!"
She squealed and locked her legs around his heaving ass, thrashing at him with total abandon. She arched her pelvis and held on tight as she felt the hot drive of his come spurting into her climaxing cunt. He gripped the cheeks of her ass and cried out, tears streaming down his face. He viciously rammed his cock home, emptying a huge load of sperm inside her. Angel whimpered and held on to Lucien, feeling as if she were going to die at any second, and finally it was over. He lay on top of her exhausted, their bodies throbbed and they gasped for breath. Slowly he rolled off her and lay on the floor sucking in air.
Angel took his hand in hers and said, "Come, Lucien, let's go for a swim in the pool."
He allowed himself to be led to the edge of the pool. Laughing, she pushed him in and jumped in after him. They splashed each other and played in the water like children.
Half hidden in the shade of a banana tree stood Calinda. She had been washing the upstairs windows when she had seen Angel remove her bikini top and walk toward the gazebo. The servant had left her work, crept out of the house and hidden in the dense vegetation near the gazebo and watched the couple on the floor.
Calinda was an unattractive girl with a flat face and a narrow bony body. She had wanted Lucien herself and had made several overtures to him, but he had brushed her aside. Now he was pleasuring her mistress. She stared at them and felt a bitter hatred creep over her. She had seen them. She knew their secret and that secret might be worth something ... some day.
Chapter Four
As Angel was going back to her room, she passed the open door to her father's bedroom and noticed that the bed still had not been made nor the sheets changed. She lay down on the bed and hugged herself. The sheets still smelled of last night's lovemaking. She thought first of Damien, and then Lucien, and then her mother's lover, Touro. She wrapped her arms and legs around a pillow and rolled over on the bed, her ash blond hair spilling over the side. Glinting in the sunlight was the silver hairbrush-her first lover. Nearby on the dresser stood a framed silver wedding photograph of her father and mother. Angel had been surprised when it had appeared again last spring on her father's dresser top. After her mother had left, her father had disposed of every remembrance of her mother, either had things packed away or thrown out. He had also let the gazebo fall into disrepair. Angel pleaded with him to let her redo it. He agreed. It had been sanded and repainted, and Angel had selected a fabric to recover the furniture as near to what her mother had used as possible. Angel stretched out her arm, picked up the silver frame and stared at it. Her father had been a darkly handsome Frenchman. Odd, she thought, to think of him that way. She had never considered him handsome. Probably because she had never loved him. Her mother was a beautiful young creature with ash blond hair and violet eyes.
After the murder, her mother had fled to New Orleans and her father never mentioned his wife again. Angel wondered if they had been in love. Had they had sex before marriage? Was it good for them? She closed her eyes and wondered how it had been with them.
* * *
Maxim Leveque met Suzanne in France. He had been searching for her for a long time ...
"The year was 1918, only a few months after the first World War. Leveque had moved the family's business to Jamaica just before the start of the war. He purchased some land containing the ruins of a manor house which had been destroyed during the native rebellion of the nineteenth century and he had set about building up the remains. A local architect was called in to restore the house with as much authenticity as possible, and when it was finished, Cinnamon Hall, as it came to be called, was one of the most charming of the great houses on the island.
After his business was firmly established and he was settled in his home, Leveque began to feel lonely for the first time in his life. The white islanders were loud and rough and not the sort of people he cared to socialize with. His home had a staff of four native servants who were kept on their toes by a young black housekeeper named Verbena. She had come to work for him after losing both her husband and child in a malaria epidemic on Haiti. She took to Leveque as a sort of compensation and was constantly giving "advice."
"They ain't nothin' wrong with dis house dat a good woman couldn't fix, Monsieur Leveque."
He was annoyed by her impertinence, but he knew that she was right and decided to set about the job of finding himself a wife. The island was filled with many young women who were attracted to the handsome Frenchman, but Leveque found their suntanned, robust appearance unappealing and their manners rude. He was searching for an ideal. A blond pale beauty like his mother had been.
He had to return to France on business and hoped that there he might find a compatible woman to marry. The crossing was slow, but Leveque was expectant of what the trip might bring. He was met in Bassin d'Archchon by his younger brother, Philippe, and his wife. They drove him to Bordeaux where Leveque stayed in his brother's townhouse which was located in the most fashionable part of the city.
After dinner that evening, he explained to his brother and sister-in-law the other purpose of his trip-the business of finding a suitable wife. Philippe's wife, Claudine, was ecstatic. It would give her a chance to be more social than usual. She arranged dinner parties, tea parties and music parties, and although Maxim hated affairs of this sort, he realized that it was the proper procedure to meet young ladies.
He began to despair because none of the parties had turned up anyone that he was even remotely interested in. When the return invitations started coming in, he had been invited to the Jamet estate which was located in the low mountain region just outside Bordeaux. The Jamets were wealthy wine makers and Leveque remembered meeting them at one of the various parties. He was informed by his sister
He began to despair because none of the parties had turned up anyone that he was even remotely interested in. When the return invitations started coming in, he had been invited to the Jamet estate which was located in the low mountain region just outside Bordeaux. The Jamets were wealthy wine makers and Leveque remembered meeting them at one of the various parties. He was informed by his sister-in-law that they had a daughter who had not accompanied her parents to the festivities, and perhaps he would meet her there. Leveque was not very optimistic about the prospect of meeting the daughter of the winemaker. He pictured her as probably being a dumpy, coarse girl of the country, but he had been very wrong.
He first saw Suzanne in the formal gardens sitting beside an ornate gazebo surrounded by male admirers. He had never seen anyone so exquisite as she. She looked as cool and blond as a glass of perfect champagne. She turned and caught his glance and instead of lowering her eyes, she looked at him and smiled slightly. She stood up, excused herself, opened a parasol and walked across the verdant carpet of grass toward a pond. Leveque seized his opportunity and within minutes caught up with her. Leveque was nervous, but her charming directness eased him.
"Hello, monsieur. How do I look close up?"
"Ravishing."
"And how do you mean that? Am I ravishing to look at or do you mean to ravish me?"
"Both."
"Well, you're honest anyway. Why did you want to talk to me, consieur?"
"I'm looking for a wife."
She started to laugh, but stopped. "I can see you're serious, aren't you?"
"Very serious, and you're the girl I intend to marry."
She looked at him and thought to herself, he is certainly attractive, but I don't intend to marry him, do I?
By the end of two weeks, they were married. Suzanne's parents, while not exactly approving of Leveque, gave in to their headstrong daughter's wishes. They sailed for Jamaica following the wedding ceremony and when they approached Montego Bay, Suzanne was enchanted by the lush green vegetation which was spattered with brilliant flowers and the ridge of mountains which resembled a dinosaur's back.
"Maxim, I never dreamed anything could be so beautiful."
They drove through the gateway to the colonial style house. Verbena was waiting at the foot of the staircase and she ran to greet them bubbling with excitement. Leveque introduced them, and Suzanne embraced Verbena and said, "I know we'll be friends."
"Amassi. De master go to get a wife and he come home with de prize."
The only thing that bothered Leveque about Suzanne was that on their wedding night on board ship he discovered that her hymen had been broken. She wasn't a virgin. Suzanne explained that it had been because of a riding accident and Leveque had accepted her explanation, but still it bothered him. He was also troubled by the robust way that Suzanne enjoyed sex. He had been brought up to believe that well-bred ladies weren't supposed to enjoy it so much. Suzanne was different. She loved sex with her husband. She was insatiable. She also did things to him he had never experienced outside of whorehouses. He was delighted, but at the same time worried by her worldliness. He wondered where she had learned such tricks.
Verbena served them dinner on the veranda and Suzanne chattered about the things she wanted to do to the house.
"Anything you wish," replied Leveque "within reason."
"I would love to send for my gazebo-the one I was seated by when you first met me. It would make a lovely addition to the garden, don't you think?"
"Whatever you like."
"Oh, Maxim, you're so good to me." She looked directly into his eyes as she always did and ran her tongue over her moist pink lips saying, "Tonight, I'm going to be good to you."
Leveque started to get an erection.
"After we've both bathed, have Verbena send up a chilled bottle of champagne."
Suzanne bathed herself in jasmine scented bathwater while her husband bathed in another room. They met in the master bedroom. A chilled bottle of champagne had been placed on the side of the bed with two exquisite glasses. Suzanne asked her husband to open the champagne, then to lie down on the bed. When he had, she lifted the glass to her lips, drank it down in one gulp and giggled lasciviously. Then she picked up the bottle and drank from it, holding the liquid in her mouth. She crawled between his legs, took his large cock in her hands, slid her mouth over his organ and surprised him with the coldness of the champagne which she had kept in her mouth. Some of it ran out of the corners of her lips, down over his balls and between his legs to his ass. She began lapping up the chilled champagne. Spreading out her tongue, she took long licks over the base of his cock and completely covered his balls with little button bites, sliding first one of his swollen testicles into her mouth and then the other. Then she did something she had never done before. She moved her head down between his legs and at the same time pushed his strong legs up into the air. She buried her face between the cheeks of his buttocks and kissed his asshole. It was a soft kiss at first and then it became more fervent. She flipped out her tongue and circled the pink opening several times before jamming it inside. Leveque was shocked but at the same time thrilled. Nobody had ever done that to him in his life, not even the whores he had been with. He clasped his legs around the ankles and let her continue her ass sucking. She poured more champagne between his buttocks and licked it up, always returning to his asshole and concentrating on it with her long slender tongue. Each time she went deeper and deeper.
He cried out, "Stop it. Stop it, Suzanne. I'm going to come."
She quickly moved her head away from his buttocks and jammed her lips down over the swollen head of his cock. Spurts of his semen hit against the roof of her mouth. Then she slid her mouth off his cock, leaving her mouth open wide. She stuck out her tongue and caught the hot drops of come on it. Leveque was out of his mind watching his beautiful young wife take his load on the tip of her tongue. When he finished shooting, she ran her fingers up and down the full length of his cock to squeeze out any last drop. Then she swirled her tongue around in her mouth and swallowed it.
Leveque lay his head back on the pillow and felt suddenly depressed. "Where did you learn all these things," he asked.
Suzanne's eyes flashed. "What do you think? That I went to a school for making love? To some people it just comes naturally. Are you accusing me of being with a man before I was married?"
Her outrage was so adamant that Leveque found himself believing her, or wanting to. Suzanne, convinced that he was convinced, lay down beside him, nibbled on his ear lobe and said, "And now, darling, I want you to fuck me."
"Suzanne, you know I hate it when you use that kind of language."
"But I want it, Maxim, I want it!"
She rolled over on top of him and got on her knees and began rubbing her vaginal mound over his body. She slid it over his cock which was beginning to get hard once again, then she rubbed it down over the full length of his thigh, pausing at his knee to press against it. She moved on down over his calf until she reached his foot. She took his foot in her hand and rubbed her cunt against the five toes. She reached down and parted her cunt lips and let his large toe slide partly into her hot slit.
"Please, Maxim, I'm so excited."
He sat up in bed and grabbed her by the arms and threw her on her back.
"That's it my darling, take me roughly!"
He crouched between her legs and sucked on her throbbing breasts, taking her nipples between his teeth.
"Bite me, bite me hard!"
He brought his teeth together over the jutting ends and bit. She groaned in ecstasy.
"Now the other one, darling."
While he was chewing on her nipples, his hand slid down to her wet crotch and his finger plunged ruthlessly in until it penetrated to the second knuckle. Suzanne writhed with joy, emitting moist whines of pleasure. He slid another finger in and began poking them in and out of her hole.
"Your cock," she screamed, "give me your cock!"
He positioned himself so that the fleshy nob of his prick was pressed against her cunt lips and he rubbed it back and forth over her hot flesh.
"Don't tease me anymore, Maxim. Shove it in! Fuck me, fuck me!"
Leveque grunted bestially and slammed his cock into her cunt in one brutal stroke. His cock was in up to the hilt. He groaned with delight as he felt his cock head bang against the deepest reaches of her womb. She fucked back against him grinding his rod against her clitoral terrain. She milked him with her cunt muscles. Maxim broke into longer, smoother strokes, bringing his cock in and out of her clapping vagina and then thrusting forward into her until she could feel the harsh slap of his bloated balls against her buttocks. She moaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain and her moans caused him to quicken his thrust, hot and deep as she thrashed her body wantonly beneath him. When she was getting ready to come, he could feel it in the way her legs and thighs jerked. He grabbed her legs and pushed them up higher until her knees fell over her shoulders with her cunt completely vulnerable, then he plowed his cock home, smacking it into her brutally.
Suzanne screamed, "Fuck me harder, Maxim, harder! Hard as you can!"
His hands clasped her buttocks and positioned them for his cock. Then he really slammed her. She cursed and grunted as he dipped his prick in and out of her steaming cunt. Suzanne squealed in orgasm and they both felt his jetting spray of come coating her cuntal walls, spurting high, completely filling her with the scalding juice.
Afterwards as they lay in each other's arms, Leveque's doubts about his wife's pre-marital innocence came into his head again and clouded his mind.
Suzanne christened the great house Cinnamon Hall, after the bushy evergreen trees which Leveque imported from South America for his own personal use for colognes. Suzanne wrote to her parents asking to have her gazebo dismantled and sent to Jamaica. When it arrived, she placed it near the edge of the garden. She decorated it in her favorite colors, lemon and lime.
Leveque was pleased with the way his young wife ran Cinnamon Hall. She was efficient and imaginative. The only problem was that Suzanne liked to entertain and Leveque did not. He felt he didn't have time for the social graces and he was jealous of the way other men looked at his beautiful young wife.
In the sixth month of their marriage, Suzanne found that she was pregnant. It was a difficult pregnancy. She was often sick for days at a time and became quarrelsome, but Leveque was indulgent with her and showed more concern for the child in her body who he was convinced would be a son, than in Suzanne.
She went into labor prematurely and it took over twelve hours of excruciating labor to bring forth the child. When she at last appeared she was a serene, pink-faced cherub with a mist of blond hair and eyes as bright as diamonds. She was the most beautiful child that Verbena and the midwives had ever seen. The baby, nicknamed Angel, was placed in Verbena's care. Suzanne spent her days in the gazebo writing bitter things in her diary about her husband who avoided her by working long hours. When they did see each other, they fought, cruelly hurting each other as only two people can who had once been in love.
Angel grew up virtually ignored by her father and mother. When she was five years old, her father was travelling quite a bit to Europe and America. Her mother took a lover, a strapping young native who worked at gardening, named Touro. Leveque had not been jealous of the extremely tall, handsome young man because he was black and the thought of his wife sleeping with a native was beyond his comprehension. They became lovers and at the times when Leveque was travelling, they would spend entire days in bed together in the master bedroom. Even when Leveque was in Montego Bay, Suzanne would send for Touro who would slip up the back stairs of the house and into the bedroom to pleasure her. Then late one afternoon Leveque, feeling the effects of the heat wave, decided to leave the shop. He drove up the mountainside and parked the Bentley in the garage. Instead of going in by the front door, he walked around to the back to see how construction was going on the swimming pool, another of his wife's whims.
Satisfied that the men were doing proper work for the money he was paying them, he ascended the staircase to the balcony and the master bedroom. As he reached the top step he heard his wife groaning. At first he was startled, thinking she was ill. Then he heard her call out, "Puck me, Touro, fuck me harder!" He froze, not believing what he was hearing. He turned around and surveyed the garden and saw that the black gardener was not at work. He crept closer to the room and listened to his wife's lewd pleas to a young black lover.
"Oh, Touro, fill me up with your big black cock! Jam it home! Give it to me, lover, give it to me!"
Leveque felt ill. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead like blisters. He eased closer to the doorway and looked inside. His wife was on her hands and knees and Touro was on his knees behind her jamming his huge black cudgel in and out of her cunt. They both saw him at the same time. Suzanne nearly fainted. Touro quickly withdrew and backed away from the bed-away from Leveque, who had the look of a madman about him. Leveque glanced down at his wife's gaping cunt and at his servant's huge black cock, much bigger than his own, and began howling like an animal. He rushed to the dresser where he kept a loaded gun, flung open the drawer and held the revolver in both hands.
He aimed it first at his wife who had collapsed on the bed in sobs. He stared at her over the top of the gun for a few moments, but he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. He turned around and aimed it at Touro who was madly fumbling with the hallway door which Suzanne had kept locked to keep out other servants. A shot resounded in the air and a large bloody patch appeared in Touro's back. He screamed and turned around. Flinging his arms wildly, he rushed past Leveque and out the doorway toward the balcony. Leveque fired again. This time the shot caught the native at the base of the spine. He threw out his arms and fell forward, tumbling over the side of the balcony and landing below in a clump of orchids. Leveque ran down the stairs, still screaming wildly and waving the gun. Touro was still alive when he reached him. He emptied the last four shots into the man.
He looked up at his small child with such anger and hatred that if he had had another bullet, he would have shot her. Since that day and that moment, Angel and her father created a gulf between them which never was to be bridged.
Leveque sent for the police, but wasn't charged with murder. He was completely exonerated because of his position in Montego Bay and because of the circumstances. Suzanne left Cinnamon Hall in disgrace. She packed her belongings and caught a ship which took her to New Orleans, where she worked in a house of prostitution called the Garden of Delight, in the French Quarter. Suzanne Jamet Leveque loved her work and she was good at it and within several years had amassed enough money to open a house of her own and she became legendary in New Orleans.
Of course, Leveque had heard about his wife's activities and it had made him even more bitter toward women. The black women he took to bed he treated like whores.
* * *
Angel pressed her lips against the glass of the wedding picture and sent a kiss to her mother wherever she was. She had overheard the stories of her mother's profession and she was glad that she was like her mother in almost every respect.
Chapter Five
"Maman Lala say dat somethin' bad is gonna' happen."
Verbena had just returned from shopping and her trip to the Voodoo woman and had rushed to tell Angel all about it.
Angel half-listened, thinking of her experience with Lucien that afternoon.
"I don't know why you go to that old Voodoo woman. She just upsets you."
Angel glanced at the small cotton bag which was hanging around Verbena's thick brown neck.
"I wish fo' nothin' to happen here at Cinnamon Hall."
"Whoooo, it smells to high heaven," Angel said. "Take it off. I won't have you smelling like a field hand around here."
"But, Miss Angel ... "
"Take it off!"
Verbena's large brown eyes looked hurt, but she did what her mistress said.
"Ain't gonna' be responsible fo' anythin' bad happenin' now," she replied sarcastically, setting the bag on the sideboard of the kitchen. "Yo' stayin' in tonight or yo' goin' gallavantin' around?"
Angel remembered that she had forgotten to call Damien. "I'm going out, Verbena, but I'm going to have dinner here. Make something light, perhaps a fish and salad and some white wine."
"I got us a good red snapper at the market today. I get dat lazy Calinda to clean it up. And I make sure she do it proper. She a quashi buffuto (a worthless fool)."
"Well, if you're not happy with her, Verbena, get rid of her."
"I mean to talk to yo' father 'bout it."
"I'm the mistress of the house while he's gone."
"Yo' ain't de mistress yet. No matter what yo' think, yo' father still run de place."
Angel ignored Verbena's remark and went into the sunroom to call Damien. He answered on the second ring.
"Angel, I thought you wouldn't call."
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"Can we do something tonight?"
"Yes, but let's go out later and. I want to do something really grownup."
"Like what?"
"I'll leave it up to you."
There was a pause on the other end of the receiver while Damien thought. "How about the show at the Maison Fleurs? Have you ever seen that crazy puppeteer, Rexall Fleurs, at work?"
"No, I haven't. My father would never let me go there. He said it was dirty."
"Well, it is a little off-color, but I wouldn't call it dirty."
"That sounds like fun. I'll pick you up at nine o'clock at your place."
"All right, Angel, I'll see you then."
Angel had dinner with Verbena. A big red snapper, fresh fruit salad, and a bottle of her father's white wine. Verbena was still pouting about the wish bag.
"I sho' wish yo' let me keep dat thing, Miss Angel."
"I don't want to talk about it anymore. It smelled like perspiration."
During dinner Angel noticed Calinda staring at her oddly. She wondered if the servant suspected anything about her afternoon frolic with Lucien. Angel had never liked the young girl. She was lazy and did most of her work half-heartedly. But it had never been her place to fire her. It had been her father's. She made a mental note to speak to her father when he returned. Had she been mistress of the house, Calinda wouldn't have lasted more than a week.
After dinner she went up to her room to get ready for her date with Damien. When she had showered, Angel rubbed her flesh with a scented body oil and went about the business of putting up her hair. She wanted to look older, so she combed it into an upsweep and, using a curling iron, curled the ends so that a profuse cluster of curls fell down the nape of her neck. Then she made up her face a little heavier than usual. Satisfied with the result, she went to her closet and got into the other dress that she had bought at Hattie's. She was going to have to get more clothes if she were going to be a woman of the world. The dress was a marvelous choice. It was a full length white crepe gown made on the style of a slip and it clung to her body like a layer of frost. When she walked down the staircase, Verbena was there, as usual, to look her over.
Angel's companion slapped her hands to her cheeks, exclaiming, "Miss Angel, dat dress is a scandal. It too tight in de batty and de boobies. And it don't look like yo' wearin' anythin' 'neath it."
Angel threw her head back and replied, "I'm not, and don't wait up for me tonight, Verbena. I may not be in until very late."
Angel didn't put the top up on her yellow sports car even though the night air threatened rain. And as she drove down the mountainside, she rubbed her thighs together in anticipation of seeing Damien again. She drove through the narrow cobblestone streets until she came to a lime stucco house, the bottom floor of which contained a spice shop. She honked the horn and a few seconds later a shutter on the second floor opened and Damien stuck his head out.
"I'll be down in a minute, Angel. I just stepped out of the shower. I was delayed at the shop."
Angel looked up at her young lover. His body was still wet and he had a bright blue towel wrapped around his middle. She mouthed the words, "Take off the towel."
Damien grinned at her and dropped the towel. She stared at his thick cock and heavy balls and blew him a kiss.
"Enough of the striptease," said Damien, laughing. "I'll be down shortly."
Five minutes later he appeared at the bottom of the stairway dressed in a pair of skin-tight white ducks, a light-weight navy blue blazer and a red bandana print shirt, open halfway down his chest.
"You look terrific, Angel."
"So do you, Damien. And after all, aren't we the most beautiful couple on the island?"
She slid over in the seat and Damien took the wheel.
"Maison Fleurs?"
"Maison Fleurs."
The nightclub called Maison Fleurs contained the only X-rated club act in town. Rexall Fleurs, an internationally known puppeteer, had performed in all the top clubs throughout the capitals of the world. He spoke many languages fluently and his "obscene" puppets delighted audiences everywhere.
The outside of the club was decorated like a New Orleans whore house. The veranda and balconies were covered with wrought iron grill work overgrown with bougainvillea. Hanging from the rafters of the veranda were strings of brightly colored Christmas tree lights, an affectation which was used in the West Indies to advertise houses of prostitution. Over the stairs leading to the veranda ran an ornately lettered sign saying "Maison Fleurs."
"I hope they serve me," said Angel.
"They will. I know the maitre'd here."
Standing by the door was a large poster of Rexall Fleurs with his hand puppet, a dirty old woman known as Nicole. The puppet had a profusion of blond hair and heavy eyelashes. She was not unlike a thin Mae West. Inside, the club was crowded with tourists, even though it was offseason. Fleur's show was one of the "must see" entertainments in Montego Bay. The long bar was full of people, and the main room, which was sprinkled with tiny round tables, was nearly filled. There was a small stage area and next to it a baby grand piano. Angel and Damien waited a few moments until the maitre'd, a young man named Terry, came to seat them. Terry was a tall, slender American with shoulder-length blond hair and an easy smile. After the two young men exchanged greetings, Damien introduced Angel to Terry.
"Is this your first time in Montego Bay?" he asked, eyeing her body appreciatively.
"Oh, no, I live here."
"Really? I've never seen you before," implying he would like to see her again.
Terry showed the young couple to a table near ringside and said that he would see them later.
"What would you like to drink?" Damien asked.
"Something adult. Rum cocos are for tourists and children."
A native waiter came to take their order and Damien said, "Two vodka and tonics, please. And instead of limes, use a slice of cucumber."
The waiter eyed the young girl dubiously, but said nothing. When the drinks arrived, Angel was delighted.
"These taste marvelous, Damien."
"There's Rexall," said Damien, pointing to the edge of the room.
Angel turned her head and looked at the puppeteer. She had seen him before. He was bond, very tanned and around thirty-five, with a stocky, but muscular body. Fleurs stopped at most of the tables, greeting his customers and making jokes with them. When he reached Angel and Damien's table, he stopped short and said, "It can't be. You're not Leveque's daughter?"
"Yes, I am, Mr. Fleurs."
"Well, I'm glad to have you here. How are you, Damien?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Fleurs. Anxious to see your show."
"Well, I'm going on right now. I hope you enjoy it." And he added to Angel, "And I hope it doesn't offend you. Some of it is a little bit risqu�."
A short time later the house lights dimmed and Rexall Fleurs and his puppet, Nicole, appeared in a pink spotlight. Fleurs was dressed in a lightweight, black tux and his puppet was dressed in red satin.
Fleurs asked the puppet, "How's your hole, Nicole?"
"It could be tighter," she replied lasciviously. "I'm thinking it might be time for a retread job. Some of them have to throw in a handful of gravel to get a little traction."
The audience roared at the naughty dialogue and Nicole went on.
"I did have a hot date the other night with Pinocchio. I sat on his face and told him to tell another lie!"
After Nicole made an exit, two puppets representing a penis and a vagina did a song about fornication. The entire show was about sex in one form or another. The finale number was entitled "Hand Job."
After the show was over, Fleurs had changed back into a casual suit and sat with Damien and Angel.
"I hope the show didn't offend you," he said.
"Not at all," said Angel. "I thought it was marvelous."
When the waiter came around, Fleurs instructed him to put the bill on his tab. Then he excused himself and went to another table.
"That was a nice gesture," said Angel.
"Nice, hell," replied Damien. "He was just trying to come on to you."
"Oh, was he?" replied Angel innocently.
On their way out of the club Terry stopped them and thanked them for coming.
"Everybody's being so pleasant," said Angel.
"That's because they all want you."
"Oh, really," Angel said demurely. She didn't add that she wanted all of them, too.
When they got back in the car, Damien asked, "Where to?"
Overhead the sky rumbled like the belly of a beggar.
"Let's go to your place," suggested Angel. "It's going to rain any minute and I don't want to bother putting the top up."
"My place? Angel, I've only got a single bed."
"I'm sure we can work out something."
They parked the car under the awning of the spice shop and ascended the narrow stairs which led to Damien's one room apartment. The walls of the room were papered with French newspapers. To one side there was a small kitchen and a door leading to the bath. The room was sparsely furnished with a single bed, a chest of drawers, a small table and two rattan chairs.
"I told you it wasn't much," said Damien.
Angel put her arms around Damien, and pressed her lips against his. His hands slid down her bare back and came to rest on her round buttocks.
"Let's undress," he said hoarsely.
She nodded and kissed him on the tip of the nose.
Damien turned out the light and opened the shutters. The moonlight streamed into the small room and outlined their bodies.
A forked tongue of lightning split the sky and suddenly it began to rain. The rain resounded against the tin roof of the building and filled the room with a sensuous, rhythmic sound. Angel threw her dress over the back of a rattan chair and stood in front of the window, the yellow light silhouetting her form. Damien crossed the room, his cock throbbing with desire, and Angel threw her arms around his neck. They sat down on the edge of the bed. He kissed her, sliding his tongue between her sensuous lips. His hands sought out her breasts and began massaging them. Her nipples hardened between his thumb and forefinger. Angel moved one of her hands down his smooth, muscular back, slid it around his waist and let it come to rest on his cock and balls. She wrapped her small fingers around the whole length of his shaft and, kneading the flesh, she lay back on the bed and waited. She loved the feel of his cockflesh and wanted it inside her. Admiring the graceful lines of her beautiful body, Damien straddled Angel's chest and squatted down until his heavy balls rested on her breasts and the head of his cock pressed against her chin. Angel pulled him forward, opened her mouth and took the head of his cock inside, toying with the opening with the tip of her tongue. Damien put his hand behind his back. His fingers slid over her cunt and touched her throbbing clitoris. Angel spread her legs further apart, allowing his hand to have complete access to her cunt. He massaged her clit by inserting his thumb and forefinger into her vagina. Then he swung his body around until he lay on top of Angel. She wrapped her legs around his head. He pressed his face against her downy pubic hair. His cock and balls were lying on her face. They turned over on their sides.
Angel took his cock in her hand and pulled it to her lips. She flattened her tongue and began licking it. Damien buried his face in the moistness of her cunt. He separated her outer labial lips with his thumbs and sucked her clitoris between his teeth, gently nibbling on it. Then he felt the head of his cock slide inside her hot mouth, and she began sucking on it expertly. He, in turn, sucked hard on her clitoris and teased her outer lips with his fingers. He spread her legs further apart so that he could slip his probing tongue inside the mouth of her cunt. Angel was going up and down on the full length of his cock with a smooth, but rapid, rhythm. He pulled his tongue out of her cunt mouth and began concentrating on her clit, lavishing tongue caresses on the nerve center of her sexuality.
He felt her readjust her head position and slide her mouth forward until her nose was buried in the curly tangle of his pubic hairs. Angel's mouth felt terrific to Damien. It felt like a cunt, only it was better. Cunts didn't have tongues. He concentrated on lapping her clit and massaging her full breasts at the same time. Angel's mouth continued to glide back and forth over his stiff prick, stopping occasionally to bite it lightly with her teeth. She kept his heavy balls in her hands and squeezed them, occasionally pulling her mouth off his cock to suck on one of them. Angel began moving her hips back and forth, pressing her cunt hard against Damien's mouth. She started making little gasping noises, muffled by the presence of his fat cock in her mouth and throat. Angel's thighs began to tense and she began to suck him even harder. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, fanatically pumping on it. He squeezed both of her nipples and licked furiously as she ground her cunt hard against his mouth. Angel's entire body began to convulse with spasmodic twitchings of orgasm. Damien continued licking until he started to shoot himself. He heard her choke on the first jet of warm sperm that shot down her throat. She swallowed and he licked. He licked and she swallowed. Both of them reached a quivering peak of orgasm together. They broke away from each other's crotch and lay side by side on the narrow bed, gasping for air.
The wind had shifted and the rain started coming in through the windows. Damien got up from the bed and went to close the shutters. He lay back down on top of Angel, pressing his own, wet mouth against hers. Their faces were smeared with saliva and a mixture of each other's juices. They held onto one another while the storm raged outside. Damien kissed the corners of Angel's mouth and then her eyelids. His hands caught both of hers while his half-hard cock pressed against her cunt. Angel slid her hand down between their bodies and began jerking on his cock, causing it to lengthen and harden. When it was finally stiff, she rubbed it against her damp pubic hairs.
"Fuck me, Damien. Fuck me good!"
Damien didn't need coaxing as he guided his cock to the entrance of her cunt. Angel's back arched up, pushing her flesh against his flesh. He shoved his cock against the wet opening of her cunt until the head of it was encased in the damp warmth. Angel spread her legs wider and Damien let go and sunk into the warmth and softness of her moist hole. He licked her face as her hips rotated rhythmically. Angel trailed her hands down his back and grabbed his pumping buttocks, then she slid her legs up until her ankles were locked around his lower back. She clawed at his buttocks as he pumped furiously.
"Mmmmmmmmmm, Damien. Oh, God, that's good," she groaned into his ear.
He thrust it in to the limit and Angel accepted all the cock he could give her. Angel ran her hands between his buttocks, touching his asshole with her finger. The opening was soft and rubbery and she wanted to put her finger inside. She moved one hand back up to her mouth, stuck her finger inside, and got it slippery with saliva. Then she slid it back down to his asshole and sneaked it inside, and began fingerfucking his ass with the same rhythm as he was fucking her cunt.
"Christ, Angel," he cried. "That feels good. Don't stop. Keep it up."
One of the shutters blew open and the rain pelted against the floor of the room, but they didn't stop. The room began to spin as both of them approached orgasm. Angel was uttering little, soft cries of pleasure as the first orgasm came. Damien felt his cock swell to its peak and he knew he was about to let go, too. Angel continued jamming her finger in and out of his ass as a steady stream of come shot out of the head of his cock, coating the walls of her pussy, filling it up and overflowing until it began running down the insides of her legs. Angel continued fucking his ass with her finger until she could feel that he'd finished shooting. Then slowly she eased it out and enjoyed the pleasure of feeling him deflate inside her cunt.
"I had better get up and close the window," he breathed.
He slid out of her, padded across the room and rehooked the shutter.
"That's some storm out there. I don't think you'd better go home tonight."
"I hadn't planned to-that is, if you don't mind me staying here."
"Mind? I'd love it, but won't Verbena be worried?"
"I told her I'd be out very late."
"Should I get you a towel? You're all covered with come."
"No, thank you. I'm going into the bathroom."
Angel slipped out of bed and went into Damien's bath and took a quick shower. Damien smoothed out the sheets and was lying on the bed smoking a cigarette when Angel reentered the room.
"It's a little chilly in here, Damien. Do you have an old tee-shirt or something I could put on to sleep in?"
"Sure," he replied.
He got up and dug through the chest of drawers and handed Angel a tie-dyed blue tee-shirt. She slipped it over her head and it came down over her hips, almost covering her pubic area, but not quite.
Damien ground out his cigarette butt.
"C'mon, Angel. Let's get some sleep."
He held out his arms to her and she lay down on the bed beside him.
"I love the way our bodies fit. Don't you?" she asked.
"Yes, they fit perfectly."
With their arms around each other, they fell into a deep, contented sleep.
Angel opened her eyes, aware that she was alone in bed. The delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee floated through the air. She looked toward the kitchen area. Damien had shaved and showered and was wearing a lemon-colored robe. The shutters were open, and outside the sky was washed clean by the rain. It was a beautiful, sunny day.
"Mmmm. That smells good."
"Oh, so you're awake. I grind it myself. I use a mixture of three different South American beans. Would you like cream?"
"Yes, please."
He poured her a cup of coffee, adding enough cream to make it cafee au lait.
"You should have awakened me, Damien. I would have made the coffee."
"You looked so lovely, I didn't want to disturb you. Would you like a croissant?"
"Mmmmm. Yes, I would. Do you have an extra robe?"
"Yes. I'll get it for you."
He opened the closet and threw a white terry cloth robe to Angel. Carrying her coffee cup, she walked across the room and sat down at the small table across from Damien. The croissants were flaky and buttery.
"These are great. Where do you get them?"
"From Titubua's Bakery."
After eating, Angel brushed her hair, put on some lipstick, and got dressed in her white gown.
"I'll feel a little conspicuous in the streets in this dress."
"Tell you what. I have a raincoat here that might fit you. Put that on over the dress and hike the dress up around your waist. Nobody will know the difference."
Angel belted the raincoat and pulled her dress up above her knees.
"You're right," she laughed. "Nobody will ever know. I'd better be getting back to Cinnamon Hall. I'll give you a call later, Damien."
He kissed her on the mouth.
"Thanks for the beautiful evening. I'm glad it rained and you had to stay."
"So am I."
When Angel got to her car, she found that she been given a ticket. Unmiffed, she put it into the glove compartment and drove through the streets of Montego Bay. They were alive with the calliope of honking horns. Above, the white sun blazed, absorbing every color except the intense black of the natives. Angel drove past farmers coming into Montego Bay to sell their wares at market. They balanced on their heads baskets of poultry, fruit, eggs, charcoal, calabashes and sisal. Others pushed rickety carts filled with flowers and cocoa-colored children. Those more fortunate, called "Hurry come-ups" meaning nouveau riche, carried nothing themselves, but loftily switched their burros which were laden with their goods to sell. She passed a trinket vendor, an extremely thin black man nearly seven feet tall, who was decorated from head to toe in an array of bells fashioned from discarded tin cans, who was dancing along the roadside, shaking his arms and legs and buttocks. High above his head, he held the skeleton of an umbrella, and hanging from his ribs were various beads, shells and amulets which swayed from side to side, creating a light tympani sound. Several of the vendors were calling out advertisements for their wares.
"Sea-puss! Sea-puss! (Octopus)."
"Yabah! Yabah! (clay pots.)
"Tenky-massa! Tenky-massa! (scarves and neckerchiefs)."
"Jesga! Jesga! (iron pots)."
Angel drove to the edge of town and waited patiently while a flirtatious traffic man allowed a group of mountain girls to pass. They carried large cans of kerosene on their heads and sang out in harmony.
"G-e-e-a-a-az!"
After bowing lowly to the lithe young maidens, the traffic man waved his arm.
When Angel entered Cinammon Hall, Verbena came running out of the kitchen. There were tears in her eyes, and evidentially the woman had been up all night long.
"Where yo' been?" she blubbered. "Somethin' terrible done happened."
"What's happened?" asked Angel.
"Oh, Miss Angel, yo' should let me keep dat wish bag. Yo' should have. Yo' shouldn't oughtn't a made me throw it away."
Verbena sniffed loudly, dug into the pocket of her dress and handed Angel a crumpled telegram. The telegram stated simply and briefly that her father Maxim Leveque had been killed in an airplane crash over the Atlantic. Angel read it twice then she folded it up and handed it back to Verbena.
"Well, Miss Angel, ain't yo' gonna say nothin'? Ain't yo' gonna cry?"
"Verbena, I'm not a hypocrite. You know that I never liked my father and I don't think he ever liked me. I'm sorry he's dead, but I'm alive and now I'm mistress of Cinnamon Hall. I want you and Calinda to clear my father's things out of the master bedroom and move my things in.
"But, Miss Angel ... "
"Do as I say. And after you're finished, I want to speak with Calinda."
Angel went into the kitchen and poured herself a second cup of coffee, which she spiked with a dollop of rum. Then she went into the sun room and sat down at her father's desk. Leveque's desk was an old-fashioned roll top type which had been popular at the turn of the century. Angel pushed it open and started going through the various papers which were filed neatly into the separate slots. She didn't find what she was looking for. She knew that her father had a secret drawer, but she didn't know where the key was. He had probably had it on him. She pulled at the knob of the locked drawer, but it wouldn't give. She fished around in the desk until she found a letter opener and worked it around the drawer until the lock broke. She pulled the drawer open and felt on the bottom for the small button which opened the secret compartment. The back of the drawer flipped open and she slid her hand into the depths of the desk and pulled out the last will and testament of Maxim Leveque. Her eyes scanned the pages. "To my daughter Angelique Leveque I bequeath Cinnamon Hall and all its furnishings and the twenty-four acres of land which surround it. I also bequeath her my shop and the land it stands on and my assets which are one million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars or thereabouts. I'm hoping that this will in some way make up for all the things I didn't do for her. To my younger brother Philippe, I bequeath complete control of our businesses in Bordeaux and Paris. I also request that if Angel decides to continue the business in Montego Bay, that he advise her."
Angel was surprised to find tears in her eyes. They spilled out and ran down her cheeks leaving trails like transparent ribbons. Verbena entered the sun room, glanced down, and knew what Angel was reading.
"Angel, yo' father is dead. Yo' got to forgive him."
Angel looked and replied, "I forgave him a long time ago."
Chapter Six
"Send Calinda to me."
"Why yo' want to see her, boonoonoonoos!"
I have some things to discuss with her." Verbena left the sun room and in a short time Calinda appeared in the doorway with a haughty expression on her face.
"Calinda, I want to talk to you."
"Dat's funny. I been wantin' to talk to yo'."
Angel noticed something in the tone of her voice that was insolent. "Oh, what is it?"
"I think it 'bout time yo' raised ma money." Angel was shocked at her suggestion. She noticed that the girl smelled of her cologne. It was the same scent that she had bought at Hattie's. "Raising your salary is out of the question at this time. I called you in to talk about your work. Neither Verbena nor I have been happy with it. We're willing to give you another chance if ... "
"Yo' white slut," Calinda said, her eyes blazing. "I saw yo' layin' with Lucien. Yo' maybe thinks nobody seed yo', but I did and I gonna talk less I gets what I wants. Yo' may be de high and mighty mistress of de house, but de angel falls to de ground."
Angel stood up from the desk, walked toward the servant, and hit her across the face.
"You have five minutes to get your things and get out!"
The girl rubbed her flaming cheek.
"Yo' be sorry once de labrish (gossip) start."
"GET OUT!"
Angel picked up an ashtray from the desk and heaved it across the room, narrowly missing Calinda's head. It crashed against the door frame and fell to the floor. Calinda fled into the hall, screaming native obscenities. Verbena rushed in.
"What'goin' on here?"
"I just fired Calinda. I want you to find another girl to help you. Make sure she's a good worker. Also, I want you to close up all the rooms we don't use. There's no use having you work night and day keeping empty rooms clean."
"Yes, mam," replied Verbena.
Angel wrapped her arms around her companion's shoulders.
"Don't you 'yes, mam' me. I'm still Angel. I just want to make things easier around here for you, Verbena. My father, even though he thought a lot of you, worked you too hard. Now that you're older I want you to have more free time to do your shopping, see your friends, and even go to see Maman Lala if you wish."
"Boonoonoonoos," the old lady murmured and kissed Angel on the cheek.
Angel went upstairs to shower and change. It felt odd for her to be using her father's bathroom. When she'd finished, she lay down on her father's giant bed and thought about her future. She felt marvelously free and completely unencumbered. She had money, youth, and beauty; and she had Damien-when she wanted him. She was unsure what to do about her father's shop. She did not want to run it herself. In the meantime, Damien could continue and take care of things for her. She got up from the bed and stood in front of the mirror. She looked older, she thought, more mature. Perhaps it had been the experience of the last few days or perhaps it was just her state of mind. Her eyes fell upon the silver-handled hair brush. She picked it up and touched the cool smoothness of the handle to her nude body. Moving it down her flat stomach, she pressed it against her Venus mound and was surprised to find she was sexually aroused once again. The nipples ached, and her clitoris burned in her cunt. Then she thought of Lucien. Lucien would satisfy her. She leaned out the window and saw him working in the yard. His body was glistening with perspiration as he bent over the flower beds.
"Lucien," she called.
The servant glanced up and saw his mistress leaning out the window completely nude. He stood up and, staring at her ripe, young body, began to get aroused.
"Yes, Miss Angel."
"Lucien, come into the house. Come up to the second floor."
He glanced around nervously.
"All right, Miss."
Lucien went through the front door. It was the first time he had ever used it. When he ascended the staircase to the second floor, Angel was standing in the doorway of her father's room, waiting for him. When he reached the door, she took him by the hand and led him inside. She shut the door and locked it.
"I want you to make love to me, Lucien."
"But I'm all sweaty, Miss. I been workin' all mornin'."
"Then I shall give you a shower."
She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
"Come, Lucien."
He stepped out of his sandals and padded across the floor. He was wearing nothing but his usual loose cotton pants. Angel undid the tie at the waist and they fell around his ankles. She clutched his huge cock in her hand.
"I'm going to bathe you," Angel said huskily.
The shower was more than big enough for two. Angel took a cake of scented soap and began running it over Lucien's muscular body. His skin was remarkably smooth and she noticed that each time she touched him, he broke out in goosebumps. His cock was hard and pressed against her thigh. She knelt down and soaped his cock and balls, running the soap between his legs and up between his buttocks. He turned around and rinsed off and when he turned back to Angel, she opened her mouth and took his cock inside. Lucien held her head and pumped gently into her mouth. Angel took as much of his cock down her throat as she could without choking. She wrapped her slender fingers around the base of it and began accompanying her sucking rhythm with her hand. Then abruptly he pulled out.
"I don't wanna come just yet, Miss Angel."
A drop of sticky fluid formed on the tip of his swollen cock. Angel flipped out her tongue and licked it off. Then she got up and turned off the shower. Without drying, the two of them went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Lucien felt uneasy at being in his employer's bedroom, but Angel was so persuasive that his lust overcame him. He slid down, buried his face between her legs and began licking at the outer lips of her labia. A sudden, hot fire started burning in Angel's cunt. She dug her fingers into the back of Lucien's curly head and pushed her pelvis upwards, grinding her cunt against his mouth. Lucien parted her folds with his fingers and sought out her clitoral bud and began licking it. Angel tossed her head from side to side on the pillow and groaned with ecstasy as Lucien worked her into orgasm. Angel jerked convulsively and cried out as Lucien eagerly licked the juice of her cunt. Angel rolled over on her stomach, pressed her face into the pillow, and savored her wantonness. Suddenly she felt Lucien's rough tongue against the back of her neck. He sucked on her soft flesh and began making hot, wet trails down her entire backside. He stopped for a moment when he reached the top of her buttocks. Using his hands, he parted her round globes and ran his tongue down the crease of her ass. Angel got on her knees, giving him better access to her pink hole. Lucien ran his tongue around her asshole, stopping to chew lightly on the tender skin which surrounded it. Then suddenly he plunged his tongue up her ass. Angel groaned with delight. It was the first time anyone had ever done that to her. Juicy saliva coated her asshole and made it wet and pliable. When he had finished his tongue-fucking, he got on his knees and pressed the head of his immense prick against the entrance of her asshole. He spread her legs wider, opening the cheeks of her ass as he grasped her hips and pressed his prick against the small opening. He managed to work the head of his cock inside. Angel cried out in pain.
"Oh, Lucien, stop. It hurts."
"Jus' relax, Miss Angel. Stay with it fo' a minute. De pain will go away."
She clenched her eyes shut, bit on her lower lip and tried to relax. Little by little, the pain disappeared.
"It's okay now, Lucien. It's all gone."
The black man spit into his hand and rubbed the saliva over the shaft of his cock and began easing it into her ass. Angel nearly fainted from the mixture of pleasure and pain that she felt. She reached between her legs and clasped Lucien's huge balls in her hands. Then she ran her fingers up the shaft of his cock, which was violating her asshole. Slowly Lucien moved back and forth, very gently at first. Angel undulated her hips, rolling her ass in a circular movement as he began plummeting in and out of her asshole with swifter strokes. Finally, Lucien was able to get the full length of his cock inside her. He would pull it almost all the way out and then thrust his hips forward, slapping his stomach against her buttocks and jamming all the way home.
Angel screamed in delight at this new sensation. She wondered what it would feel like to have a cock in her cunt and in her ass at the same time. She planned to find out. Keeping his cock embedded in Angel, Lucien moved her over so that they were laying on their sides. His fingers toyed with her clitoris as he fucked her up the ass.
"Oh, God," Angel moaned. "Do it, Lucien. Harder!"
Lucien's massive load was building up until it was almost too painful to hold and his control was on the edge of collapsing. He took a deep breath and began plunging his cock in and out of her asshole with frenzied strokes. He pinched her clitoral bud between his thumb and forefinger. Grinding his teeth together, he tried to contain his orgasm, but he couldn't stop. His cock raced in and out of her asshole and suddenly he emitted a deep groan and his come shot up her anal passage. Angel could feel his hot sperm coating the inside of her ass. Lucien kept pumping and, at the same time, rapidly manipulating her clitoris until she reached an orgasm.
Fireworks exploded in her head as she climaxed. Feeling the great, warm shaft up her ass, she kept wishing she had one in her cunt at the same time and perhaps one in her mouth. Three men, she thought. I'll take three men. I want everything filled, all at the same time.
As her body stopped jerking, Lucien withdrew his cock, lay on top of her and licked her face with his tongue.
Angel got up and went into the bathroom. When she did, the come ran out of her ass and down her legs. She washed herself and was surprised to find that she hadn't bled. When she came back into the room, she noticed for the first time that Lucien was wearing a small muslin bag around his neck, like the wish bag that Verbena had wanted to wear. But his smelled fragrant and spicy.
"A wish bag, Lucien?"
Lucien dropped his eyes and replied, "Yes, Miss Angel, it is."
"And what were you wishing for?"
He grinned oddly and replied, "I already done got it."
"You mean you used Voodoo to get me?"
"Yes, Miss Angel. I been wantin' to get yo' fo' a long time."
"Well, evidentially it worked. Do you really believe in Voodoo, Lucien?"
"Yes, Miss Angel, I do."
"Then you must take me to a Voodoo ceremony sometime."
"I don't know if I can, yo' bein' a white woman."
"Nonsense. If you take me, it would be all right. Will you?" she urged, rubbing her hands over his strong pectoral muscles. "Come on, Lucien. I know you can do it."
She leaned over and sucked each of his nipples in turn.
"All right, Miss Angel," he said finally. "I take yo'."
"How soon?" she asked excitedly.
"Dere's a meetin' tonight."
"Can you take me tonight?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"What time does it start?"
"A little befo' midnight."
"Then I'll pick you up. Where do you live?"
"I live in Sugar Hill."
Sugar Hill was one of the native sections of Montego Bay. Angel had driven there many times with Verbena when her companion was visiting friends.
"Which house is it? Is there a number?"
"Ain't no number. But dere's a big tulip tree near de end of de road. Yo' know it?"
"Yes. I remember it."
"I meet yo' dere at eleven-thirty."
"Thank you, Lucien. I'm really excited about going."
After Lucien left, Angel called Damien at her father's shop to tell him the news of her father's death.
"Angel, I'm very sorry."
"Don't be, Damien. As you know, we weren't close. I don't know what my plans are about the ship, but I'd like for you to continue running it until I decide."
"I'd be glad to."
"When I come down tomorrow, we'll discuss salaries."
"Fine. Will you be free tonight?"
"I'm afraid not. I have some things I have to do."
"I understand. I'll see you tomorrow."
Angel spent the rest of the afternoon going through her father's papers. She wrote her aunt and uncle in Bordeaux. She also decided not to mention to Verbena that she was going to the Voodoo ceremony with Lucien. She would pretend to go to bed and slip out of the house.
After having dinner with Verbena, Angel excused herself and went to her room to read. At eleven o'clock, she crept down the back stairway and went to the garage to get her car. The lights in the house were dark and she was sure that Verbena was asleep. She started up her motor and instead of racing out of the garage as usual, she drove quietly away.
Sugar Hill was on the other side of the mountain, and it took her nearly twenty minutes to get there. She drove to the end of the tree-lined road, and standing under a giant tulip tree waiting for her was Lucien. He was dressed all in white-a white cotton shirt and white pants. She stopped the car and he got in. They drove to the rain forest where she had first made love with Damien and parked the car. They walked through the rain forest, past the graveyard, until they reached the base of Damballah Falls. On the other side of the falls, was a clearing. Twenty or so natives were milling around. Lucien greeted several of the young men. Everybody turned to stare at Angel, but said nothing. She clung to Lucien's hand tightly, feeling a little bit frightened. Angel noticed that most of the Voodoo worshippers were quite young, some of them still in their teens. The earth had been beaten flat and was extremely smooth and hard. At the far end of the clearing, near the base of a giant banana tree, was an altar of rough stone. On the altar were a variety of musical instruments and dishes filled with fruits and food. The Voodoo worshippers formed a circle. Angel stood next to Lucien and another native young man stood to her right. There was an air of excitement, and Angel began trembling, not knowing what to expect.
The people in the circle began swaying from left to right. Angel noticed that all the men and women were dressed in white. The men were dressed like Lucien, in white shirts and loose-fitting cotton pants. The women were wearing white tignons on their heads, which were scarves tied so that there were three points sticking straight up. They also were wearing white "Mother Hubbards." Angel was the only one who was not dressed in white. She had worn a bright red dress made of Qiana fabric which clung to the voluptuous curves of her body.
Surrounding the clearing was the variegated vegetation of the tropics-lacy ferns and fan palms, great clusters of exotic shrubbery, sprinkled with multi-colored orchids and giant flower stalks of sanguine Pointsettias.
Suddenly the drums began to beat in a savage rhythm. One, two, three. One, two, three. The battery of drums increased their magic rhythms and were joined by the chromatic organ in the triangle. The worshippers lifted their glowing faces to the sky, radiant black bathed by the pale light of the moon. A tremble of fear rushed over Angel's body like a wave of freezing water. The circle began to move and the sound of the bare feet stomping on the beaten ground echoed in the night. The faces of the worshippers became transformed. Their mouths became slack and their eyes glowed like burning leaves. Some of the natives began to touch one another lasciviously. Then they began to chant:
"Agoue', Papa Legba
Agouk, Papa Legba
Papa Legba. coii petits ou?
Papa Legba, ou oue yo!'
(Hail to Father Legba
Hail to Father Legba
Father Legba, where are your children?
Father Legba, we are here!)
Angel did not understand the chanting that came from the Voodooists. It was, for her, a mysterious sexual incantation which, in spite of her fear, had a certain erotic charm.
An old woman, the color of pitch, jumped into the center of the chanting circle. She was the Mam'bo, or High Priestess. She was also dressed in a "Mother Hubbard," but the material of her dress was brightly colored, like fragments of a rainbow. On her wrinkled neck were necklaces of bone, shells and bird heathers. She danced around the altar, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she were possessed. Despite her age, the black priestess had great vitality. From behind her back, the Mam'bo produced a squawking white rooster. She held the rooster over her head. Its wings were spread wide and began to flap frantically. The old woman whirled in a circle. The great rooster seemed to be even more powerful than she. For a moment it seemed that she would be dragged from her feet and flown away into the sky by the bird's strong, flapping wings. But her strength won out. She pulled the bird down and with a deft movement, she wrung its neck, tearing off its head. The wings continued to flap savagely, beating her face and breasts. The blood from the rooster's neck spurted skyward and the worshippers cried out:
"Aieeee! Aieeee!"
The old woman danced around the inner circle. She let the blood spill from the rooster's neck onto the clothing of the worshippers, causing red splotches to spread on the white material like blooming flowers. Then she jumped in mid-air, spun around screaming:
"Damballah Oueddo, ou mart la ciell"
(Damballah Oueddo, thou are master of the sky!)
Another reveler joined the congregation-the Papa-loi. He was a thickly built, clean shaven black man just past middle age. He wore a red turban on his head and a brightly colored, embroidered stole over his shoulders. He carried a sack of corn meal in his giant hands and, mumbling prayers to himself, began tracing a cabalistic design on the bare earth around the altar. An intricate design formed on the ground as the corn meal spilled through his fingertips. Fork marks connecting with lines interjoining them with three different circles representing the earth," sea and sky. They were the symbols for the a invisible paths through which the Voodoo gods would move. He joined the Mam'bo in the inner circle. They held each other's hands and started a wild, sensuous dance, bumping the lower parts of their bodies together and making deep animal sounds. The drums started a more sensuous rhythm. The entire assembly began spinning in circles, screaming the words:
"Voodoo Damballah! Voodoo Damballah!"
Several of the people fell to the ground, rolling around and hissing like serpents.
Angel found herself caught up in the strange gyrating rhythms. She, too, felt possessed by the spirit of the Voodoo gods. Somehow the spirits had invaded her body and affected her movements. She moved toward the center of the circle, undulating and twisting her body, crying out words that she did not understand. Writhing on the ground, the natives began to tear at their clothes, pulling them off until they were completely naked. Angel was vaguely aware of bodies coming closer to her, surrounding her, their hands reaching out to touch the lush curves of her body. Fingertips trailed over her most intimate parts.
She suddenly realized she wasn't wearing her dress anymore. She, like the other revelers, was nude. The rhythm of the drums was incessant now and it seemed to invade her very brain. She found herself being pulled down to the ground. Tongues darted out from everywhere and licked at her body. Feeling a barrage of hard, black cocks pressing against her soft, white flesh, she reached out and clasped two large cocks in her hands.
Then she felt herself being lifted a few feet in the air. A muscular black man slid beneath her and while she was being held in mid-air, he began licking the backside of her body. He ran his large, pink tongue down her back and between her buttocks. She felt his hot mouth surround her asshole. His tongue forced the opening apart and wormed its way inside. Somebody was massaging her breasts and two mouths began sucking on her nipples. The man withdrew his tongue from her ass and she felt herself being lowered. The hard end of his cock pressed against her tight opening. Her muscles relaxed and the giant black cock eased deep into her asshole. Lower and lower, until she was lying on top of the muscular form. His cock slowly gyrated in and out of her anal passage. She was jerking on the two cocks which were still in her hands when she felt two thighs touch each of her cheeks. She looked up and saw a set of black cock and balls hovering above her. She leaned her head back, opened her mouth, and began licking at the heavy balls which hung over her face. A pair of thick lips began sucking her labial folds and a hot tongue sneaked inside, lapping and licking.
It was happening, she thought to herself. She was getting it-all the cock in the world. She let the wet, saliva-coated balls slide out of her mouth. The man moved backwards and pressed the full length of his shaft down across her face, from her forehead to her chin. Angel's tongue stroked the underside of the shaft. The man switched his position slightly, and she was able to take the head of his swollen cock inside her mouth. Just then she felt her cunt lips being parted and a hot tube of flesh being inserted into her. Another cock!
The drums set the fast pace by which the three men began fucking her three holes: her ass, her cunt and her mouth. Her hands gripped the two cocks she was holding. She felt other mouths, other tongues, caressing her body, licking her legs, her feet, her toes. Angel wasn't sure if it were a dream she was experiencing or if it were real. Whatever it was, she had never been so excited in her life. The thick cock jammed in and out of her mouth while the other two filled her cunt and asshole. They were fucking her with such abandon that she was afraid that they would meet and tear her open. She was so completely filled with cock-in her cunt, up her ass, in her mouth and in both of her hands- that she became delirious with pleasure and wanted to laugh out loud, but her mouth was full. She licked and sucked at the cock in her mouth, and at the same time felt the plunging, driving thrusts of the synchronized cocks in her cunt and up her asshole. The grunts and groans that accompanied the fuckings further excited her. The cock in her mouth was the first to come, spitting gobs of warm sperm deep down her throat. She swallowed and swallowed again. The men fucking her ass and her cunt began to increase their tempo to a furious series of pounding lunges into the depths of her cunt and into the tight channel of her asshole. The cocks began to shoot at the same time, their juices filling her quivering insides. Suddenly the two cocks in her hands began to pour out their creamy fluid. It felt like the drippings of hot candle wax. It ran down her arms, searing her skin with its heat. The man pulled his cock out of her mouth. Angel began to scream with ecstasy and her screams bounced off the very walls of heaven itself.
* * *
Verbena sat up in bed, having been shocked awake by something inexplicable, something she could not understand. She glanced outside her window. It wasn't lightning or thunder that had awakened her, but something else. Something she could not understand. Shafts of moonlight floated through the shuttered windows and Verbena shivered. She felt puzzled. Something was wrong. She slid from under the covers, walked barefoot across the floor, threw open a shutter of her first-floor room and stared into the night. The night wind from the sea, called "the undertaker's wind," wrapped around her and chilled her flesh. She felt very cold, so cold that her teeth started chattering and she could feel the goosebumps crawling over her body. A cloud blocked out the moon, and the countryside was enveloped in darkness. Then suddenly the moonlight returned stronger and harder than before. Staring across the garden, Verbena saw the dark form of someone moving around the gazebo. She squinted her eyes and stared harder, but the form disappeared. A sudden fear jolted her body.
"Miss Angel," she said aloud.
She left her room and hurried up the staircase to the master bedroom. When she opened the door, she could see in the harsh rays of moonlight that Angel's bed was empty.
"Amassi! Amassi!"
She searched frantically around the bedroom and the bath. But they were empty. The door to the balcony was unlocked. She pushed it open and stepped out into the night air, thinking that perhaps her young mistress had gone for a stroll. Perhaps the figure she had seen had been Angel. Verbena decided to investigate. She walked down the back staircase, past the swimming pool to the gazebo where she had seen the figure.
"Angel," she called out hesitantly. "Angel ... "
She entered the gazebo and suddenly heard a sound. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in horror. Hanging from the pots of fern was the corpse of a black cat!
The thing began slowly spinning and she heard herself scream. The noose around its neck caused the eyes to bulge horribly, one nearly popping out of its socket. She stared at it in disbelief as it turned with maddening regularity. Her trembling hand reached up to touch it and make it stop spinning. Then she sat down on the chaise lounge and began to rock back and forth.
Chapter Seven
Angel, Lucien and several other orgy participants bathed themselves in the pond at the base of Damballah Falls. Lucien looked at Angel slyly and winked.
"It look yo' enjoy yo'self," he whispered.
"You should have told me it was going to be a sex orgy."
"Would that kept yo' from comin'?"
"Well, no, but ... "
"It all part of de Voodoo. We pleasures ourselves at de end and in doin' it, we pleasures de gods."
"Well, it sure beats being a Catholic," replied Angel, dipping her hand underneath the surface of the water and grabbing Lucien's cock. Angel glanced to her left. Lying by the side of the pond were several natives who had begun indulging in sex once again. A beautiful young native girl was kneeling and sucking off a tall, strapping black. Nearby another couple were in the soixante-neuf position and next to them, a cluster of people were involved in a minor orgy. Angel, holding Lucien by the cock, led him out of the pond and they lay down on a soft carpet of moss.
The pink rays of dawn had just begun to filter through the tops of the trees and highlight the glistening black and brown bodies with an almost unearthly glow. They were lying next to a couple. The man was standing and the girl was on her knees, sucking on his cock. Angel, deciding to follow suit, knelt down and took Lucien's flaccid organ between her lips. The native couple stopped having sex in order to watch them. The man pulled his cock out of the woman's mouth and stepped near Lucien, holding his glistening spear erect. Angel pulled her mouth off Lucien's prick and sucked on the other man's immense erection. The two men pushed their bodies close together until both cocks were side by side. With her flattened tongue, she licked the two swollen cocks as one.
The native girl, a beautiful brown creature with great luminous eyes, knelt behind Angel's kneeling form, put her hands under Angel's arms and began massaging her globular breasts. Angel was slightly stunned. She'd never been touched by a woman before in that manner, but she felt excited by the new experience. The girl trailed her tongue over Angel's back. Before Angel knew what was happening, the girl had laid down on her back and scooted her head between Angel's thighs. Angel took her mouth off the cocks and glanced down. The girl looked up at her and smiled. Then she flicked out her tongue and drove it deep into Angel's cunt.
Stretching her lips to the fullest extent, Angel was able to get the heads of both cocks inside her mouth, but no more. She manipulated each cock with her hands and contented herself by sucking on the swollen ends. Glancing up, she was surprised to find the two men were kissing and fondling one another's bodies. The girl's tongue sank deep inside her clitoral passage lapping and probing at her soft inner tissues. Angel began to undulate her hips, grinding her pussy down into the girl's face. The girl pushed Angel's legs further apart and her mouth was completely enveloped by Angel's cunt. Her tongue drove deep into Angel's hole with a firm steady pressure. Each man took one of Angel's breasts in their hand, massaging and squeezing them, stopping to twirl the tips of her nipples with their fingers. Angel's tongue lathed around the two cockheads and she speeded up the jerking motion with her hands. She wanted them both to come in her mouth at the same time. She felt the girl nibbling her clitoris and she pressed her pussy harder onto the girl's lips. The girl's groans trailed off into a smothered murmur as she stiffened her tongue and licked at the cunt hotly.
The men's breaths were coming in ragged gasps. They were both burning with the need to climax. Suddenly the shafts of the cocks felt like they were going to swell to the point of bursting. Angel opened her mouth wide and waited. Within a split second of one another, the cockheads began shooting. Hot, thick come came spurting out and Angel let go of the cocks with her hands and pulled the corners of her mouth even wider to receive it. Some of it dribbled down her chin. She felt her own orgasm approaching and she rocked her body back and forth in ecstasy as she climaxed. The girl's lapping tongue drove furiously into her moist passages lapping up her juices as Angel drank down the last of the two shooting loads. She squeezed the shafts of the cocks with her hands, milking every last drop of come out of them. When every drop had been licked up, the two men stepped away and helped Angel to her feet. The girl lay on her back, licking her own wet mouth and smacking her lips. Angel and the two men walked to the edge of the pond and dove in.
Later Angel and Lucien walked back to the clearing. There was nobody left. Just several articles of clothing and the smell of burned out candles. They searched for Angel's dress, but when they found it, it had been ripped to shreds.
"What am I going to wear home, Lucien?"
"Put on dis here shirt. Dat'll cover yo' up good 'nuff." He picked up a dusty shirt from the ground and Angel slipped it over her head. It came down to her mid-thighs. Lucien found a pair of pants which may or may not have been his and stepped into them. Then they headed back through the rain forest toward Angel's car. As they were walking under the towering bamboo trees, Lucien stopped and picked a hibiscus and handed it to Angel. She stuck it behind her ear and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Yo' mustn't tell anyone where yo' were tonight," said Lucien.
"Don't worry. I won't tell a soul."
They reached the car and got in. Angel dropped Lucien off at Sugar Hill and drove to the other side of the mountain to Cinnamon Hall. As she reached her house, the sun was rising in the sky like a red-orange ball. It was going to be a very hot day. She put her car in the garage and walked around to the back of the house to the back stairs. When she opened the balcony doors, she was surprised to find Verbena sitting on the floor next to her bed. The old woman had fallen asleep. Angel felt guilty that she had worried her companion. Gently Angel touched the old woman's shoulder and Verbena stirred, opened her eyes, grunted and got to her feet.
"What fo' yo' don' tell Verbena yo' goin' out for de night? I be mightly worried, Miss Angel. I not tellin' yo' to stay in, but I jes tellin' yo' to tell me."
"I'm sorry, Verbena. I won't do it again ... without telling you."
"We got big trouble-Voodoo trouble."
"What do you mean?"
Verbena related the story of the mysterious figure and the dead black cat she had discovered hanging in the gazebo.
"I think it's de work of dat Calinda. She try to put a spell on yo'. I goin' to Maman Lala's and ask fo' help."
Angel thought that no harm could come from humoring her friend, whose main pleasure in life was her trips to the Houngan woman. So she didn't say anything. She showered and crawled into bed to get a few hours' sleep.
Verbena went to find Roose, the combination chauffeur and gardener. In the garden she saw his tall, gaunt figure bent over a rosebush with pruning shears. Roose feigned irritation at seeing Verbena. It was time for their usual banter regarding Verbena's trip to Maman Lala's. Verbena put her hands on her hips and admonished him.
"Roose, yo' buffuto (big worthless person), why ain't de car ready?"
Roose suppressed a grin and replied in mock surprise, "Miss Angel goin' someplace?"
"I goin' some place. Miss Angel said yo' was to take me to Maman Lala's."
"That Obeah woman-why yo' wants to see her?"
"I got big business with her and it ain't nothin' for yo' to be knowin' about. Now get dat car 'round front."
With the decree laid down, she stomped off with all the aplomb of an African princess.
Roose went to change into his ill-fitting chauffeur's uniform, a dark blue affair, the sleeves of which barely reached his wrists. He topped it off by a bowler hat which sported the tail feathers of a parrot. Then he squeezed into a pair of black patent leather pumps and went to get the Bentley out of the garage.
Verbena appeared at the door dressed in her brightest clothes, all blue-green and purple, making her look like a speckled bird. She tapped her foot, awaiting his arrival. Roose got out of the car and held the back door open for her as he muttered.
"Kitchen-bessy carry-go show show (the kitchen help is putting on the airs)."
Verbena pretended not to hear and settled herself into the back seat. She rapped on the partition with her parasol as a signal to drive on. Roose sped along the countryside, slowing only when they reached the outskirts of the native section of town. That, too, was part of their ritual.
The car crawled through the village, enabling Verbena to play the part of a wealthy woman. Grownups ran to the edge of the road and waved. Verbena regally waved back. She rolled down the windows for this bit of theatrics and kept a chartreuse handkerchief pressed to her nose to keep out the red clouds of dust. Multi-colored children scrambled onto the back fenders, hitching a ride until Roose shouted them away.
The road narrowed as they neared the swamp district. The foliage became heavy, and the air was filled with screeching birds protesting the intrusion. At the edge of the swamp, the ground began to get soft. Roose threw on the brakes, nearly throwing Verbena to the floor.
"Why yo' stop so sudden?"
"Dis is as far as I go."
Roose swung open the back door and Verbena struggled out. He extended his hand to help her, but she slapped it away with her parasol. He asked his inevitable question. "Yo' want me to wait?"
"Of course, I want yo' to wait 'less yo' afraid of the swamp duppies (ghosts)."
"I ain't afraid of nothin'," he answered, getting back into the car and locking the doors.
Verbena trudged through the arrowroot grass and into the swamps. An army of soldier crabs marched past her, eternally on their way between sea and mountaintop, seeking fresh water.
The interior of the swamp was dark, and the atmosphere smelled of decay. Tropical leaves fluttered like huge hands and broke the stillness with whistling echoes. The ground was soft. Verbena gingerly speared her way with the tip of her parasol, careful not to get caught in a sinking bog. Each step made a hissing sound as the water squished through the moss. In the darkness, Verbena could barely make out the bamboo hut of Maman Lala. It was perched on stilts to keep out night-crawling things. The hut seemed to be the result of falling branches, leaves and flowers caught in the end of a spider web.
Verbena cupped her hands and called out, "Maman Lala. Maman Lala."
An ancient woman looking older than the swamp itself slammed open a Coca-Cola shutter and stuck her head out. When she saw Verbena, her menacing look vanished and a smile crossed her brown face like newly ploughed earth. Her gleaming teeth had been filed to sharp arrow points. Maman Lala lowered a rickety ladder and filled two cans with a dark rum which she brewed herself.
An overpowering stench of herbal cures, mummified animals, potions and the old woman's living habits filled the single room, making Verbena dizzy. The interior of the shack was cluttered with the tools of Maman Lala's trade- bowls of animal bones and graveyard dust, playing cards, dog and cat skulls, alligator skins and clumps of feathers. Packets of leaves, roots and herbs hung from the rafters. Around the walls were shelves lined with scores of bottles containing ashes, ground spices, powdered leaves, animal entrails and human hair. Verbena sat down on a keg and waved away the odors with a palmetto fan. On the table sat a mummified white crow, Maman Lala's pet and companion, Zozo, with which the Obeah woman conversed with regularity.
After handing Verbena a tin of rum, Maman Lala sat down on another keg, smacked her lips and said in a voice which was surprisingly young and musical, "What'sa on yo' mind, sister?"
Verbena explained to Maman Lala about Calinda and the black cat.
"But I done go through Calinda's room an' I got dese here things."
Verbena handed the Obeah woman a piece of material. Inside were two toenail parings, several pubic hairs and a green colored bead. Maman Lala took the items and set them aside, mumbling to herself and occasionally making comments to Zozo. Then she refilled their cups.
"Yo' gotta' cutacoo (a sack of trouble) an' we got to get rid of de bad loas (spirits), but ol' Maman Lala is gonna' empty it."
She went to a boiling pot on her woodburning stove and began adding the contents of various bottles and chanting a native prayer.
Mu prale mare loas
Hi Hi
Chen ki chen
Maman Lala li Kasi li
Ki dire kod.
(We are going to tie down the loas
Hi Hi
Chain which is a chain
Maman Lala has broken it
As if it were a rope.)
Then she cut a section of alligator skin and dropped it into the boiling brew. She mumbled a few prayers to herself and then she plunged her hand into the bubbling water and extracted the skin. Maman Lala sat down and pulled a candle to her, tore several coarse hairs from her head and put them through the eye of a needle. She added the personal things that Verbena had given her into the center of the skin and sewed the package shut.
Thoroughly pleased with herself, she chuckled and patted Zozo's head, "Dat will give de devil a kick in de batty." She turned to Verbena, "Listen good, sister. Yo' take dis and throw it in the bay, den when yo' go home, yo' lines the doorway of de gazebo with conch shells and yo' put de Bible under Miss Angel's bed. Den yo' watch the girl real close and let Maman Lala know how things go."
"I'll keep my ol' eyes strained," vowed Verbena. She pulled a gold bracelet from her arm and gave it to Maman Lala and left feeling somewhat relieved, once again she was plunged into darkness. As she trudged forward cautiously, feeling her way with her parasol, she heard the flapping of wings. She looked up and high above her, cawing as if to lead her out of the swamp, was a white crow!
* * *
Angel dressed and drove into Montego Bay to her father's shop. She wanted to talk with Damien about the prospect of keeping it open and his running it for her. She parked in front of Les Bijoux de Mer. She had rarely been inside the shop and was surprised to find how attractive it was. Damien was in the back next to a counter, talking to a wealthy female tourist. He glanced up and looked at her warmly. Angel walked around the shop looking at the various bottles of original perfume and glass cases of one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry. Perhaps she might keep the shop going if Damien would run it for her. After all, it seemed to be profitable. The wealthy tourist made a purchase and left the shop.
Damien came over to Angel, put his arms around her waist and kissed her. Then he took her on a tour of the shop and the workrooms in the back, explaining that the jewels were cut to order in Paris and that most of the jewelry making was done right there in the back of the shop by himself and the native craftsmen, following her father's designs. The native workers were off for the time being because of the slow tourist trade. He also explained that her father had taught him to blend perfumes using the oils of flowers, herbs and various other ingredients and that he, himself, designed jewelry. Then he showed her the books. Angel was astounded at the amount of money the shop made.
"I would like to keep things running here, Damien, but I want to be bothered as little as possible. If you'll continue working for me, I would appreciate it. But instead of a clerk, you'll be the manager."
"That would be marvelous, Angel."
"You tell me what you think is a fair salary and I'll pay it."
"Thank you, Angel. You're being very sweet."
"Not at all. I didn't realize how much my father relied upon you. He gave me the impression you were nothing more than a flunky."
"Your father was like that. By the way, Angel, I made something for you." Damien went to the back and when he returned, he was carrying a small plain bottle.
"What is it?"
"It's perfume I blended just for you. It's called Angelique."
Angel was touched. She took the stopper from the bottle and inhaled the aroma. A blend of patchouli and flowers native to the island, it was both sensual and aloof at the same time.
"It's lovely, Damien. I'll never wear anything else." She kissed him on the lips. "Come, business is slow. Why don't you close the shop and go with me to Hattie's and help me pick out new clothes."
"Whatever you say, boss." He closed the front door to Les Bijoux de Mer and went with Angel to Hattie's where she bought practically everything that was in her size. As they were carrying the packages back to Angel's sports car, they saw the Bentley pull up in front of the shop. Verbena emerged from the back of the car and rushed to her mistress.
"Roose, put des things in de Bentley. We take 'em up to de house fo' Miss Angel."
"How was your trip to Maman Lala's?"
"Everythings goin' to be pickney white (beautiful)."
"Good. I'm going to ask Damien for dinner tonight. Will you cook him something special?"
"I'll have Roose pick up some lobsters."
Angel and Damien unlocked the shop and went back inside as Verbena walked back to the Bentley, spouting orders.
"Roose, I want yo' to fetch me two lobsters-nice and big and good an' hoppin'. Got to make a special dinner fo' Miss Angel tonight. So don'tcha bring me back no crayfish or I breaks dis 'brella cross yo' lazy back."
Roose ambled off, glad to be rid of Verbena for awhile. Verbena, hands on hips, watched him trudge down the waterfront streets and then, satisfied that he had passed a certain tavern which catered to the natives, she searched her thoughts. She reached inside her pocket and felt the package to make sure it was there. Then she walked to the pier. It was empty except for a few native children casually fishing. She reached the end of the pier and looked around cautiously. The cry of seagulls, the laughter of the children and the lapping of the water against the pilings all blending together into a lazy, peaceful sound. She drew the packet from her skirt and held it between her hands, then her thick lips chanted the prayer that Maman Lala had given her.
Suddenly she felt the packet jump in her hand and she clutched it tighter. It became scalding hot, but she did not let go. She repeated the prayers until she felt it grow cool once again. Then, according to instructions, she crossed herself three times before dropping the packet into the water. It hit the water with a quiet splash and floated upon the azure surface of the sea. It began to spin slowly, then faster and faster as if it were caught up in a miniature whirlpool. Finally, it sank and a few air bubbles rose and broke on the surface.
Roose was waiting by the Bentley with a tin bucket containing two large lobsters by his feet.
"Roose, ain't yo' got mo' sense dan to set dem lobsters in de sun? I don't want 'em boiled before I's ready. Now get dis car movin'. I got some cookin' to do."
Angel felt nervous as she dressed for dinner. She didn't know why, except that Damien was coming. She ran downstairs twice to check with Verbena on the preparations. She wanted everything to be perfect. Verbena finally shooed her out of the kitchen by saying, "What yo' think? I don't know how to make de bickles (food)? I make up a meal dat please de most fenky-fenky (finicky)."
Angel went back to her room, took off her robe and anointed her body with the perfume that Damien had blended for her. She held the sparking bottle aloft. The light streaming through the glass made the liquid shimmer like a cordial fit for a goddess. "Angelique," she said aloud.
He had named it for her. It was her own particular scent and it suited her so perfectly. It suggested sex as well as sensuality, young innocent girls and full-grown women. She rubbed some on her shoulder and sniffed her skin. Self-discovery was the only word she could think of to describe it. She thought about Damien ... his darkly handsome face and the way he looked at her. Angel didn't know whether she was in love with him or not. She loved him, but that wasn't the same as being in love.
After carefully making up her face and arranging her hair, she went to her closet to get one of her new dresses. It was the one, that Damien had particularly liked on her. A full-length floral print with a mauve background. It was made of a clingy fabric, cut on the bias, which showed off the outlines of her lovely body. She slipped into T-strap shoes and went downstairs to pester Verbena again.
Verbena turned when she walked into the kitchen and caught her breath. "Amassi, Miss Angel, yo' more beautiful dan yo' mother!"
Angel kissed her companion on the cheek and asked if everything was prepared.
"Everythin' just fine, Miss Angel. It all set up on de veranda like yo' asked."
Suddenly the chimes of the front door rang.
"That must be Damien. Verbena wait and answer the door. I want him to see me coming down the staircase."
Angel ran out the kitchen door and up the back stairs to her room. Verbena put on a fresh, frilly apron and went to answer the front door, which was just a formality because it was always kept open. She exclaimed, "Goodness, Mr. Damien, yo' look mighty handsome!"
"Thank you, Verbena."
Damien was dressed in a yellow, summer linen suit that a native tailor had made for him. Following the European styles, it was tapered at the waist and the shoulders were slightly padded. Under the jacket he wore a sheer light-orange shirt.
Verbena stepped aside and Damien stepped into the great hall. Angel appeared at the top of the steps and waved her hand. As she descended the staircase, Damien thought that he had never seen anything so lovely in his life. He walked to the bottom of the staircase and reached for her hand.
"I'm glad you wore that dress, Angel. You do a lot for it."
"Thank you. Let's go out on the veranda and Verbena will bring us drinks."
They seated themselves in high fan-backed rattan chairs and Verbena brought out her specialty, two Planter's Punches on a tray.
"Verbena, why didn't you bring one for yourself and sit and chat?"
"I can't do it, Miss Angel. Got to watch de bickles."
Angel and Damien toasted one another and drank.
"I've been thinking about the shop, Damien. I've definitely decided to keep it open and I'd like to consult with my lawyers and make you a partner."
"That's not necessary, Angel."
"But I want to. I'm going to depend upon you a great deal. I have no desire to be a businesswoman. Probably you'll have to fly to Paris and discuss things with my Uncle Philippe. Funny, I only thought of closing the shop because I didn't like my father, but, after all, it does have quite a reputation and ... "
"And it's making money," supplied Damien, "a lot of it. And I can make you even more, Angel. Your father was a smart businessman, but he was unimaginative in a lot of ways. There are many exquisite crafts on the island that we could incorporate into our business. For instance, some of the native women know how to make beautiful lace. It's as fine as the things I've seen from Paris. It could be very profitable."
"I'll leave all those decisions to you, Damien."
Verbena called out that dinner was ready. They seated themselves at a beautifully appointed table and Verbena brought out her specialty, baked Lobster Jamaican. Accompanying the lobster, Verbena served a chilled bottle of champagne from the wine cellar.
The young people ate in silence, each contemplating the other. Damien wondering where he stood with Angel in terms of a long relationship and Angel wondering where she stood in terms of herself. She didn't know what she wanted yet. There was a wildness inside her, a curiosity about life that had to be satisfied. She didn't know exactly what she was searching for and whether or not she would find it.
After dinner Damien went to the table where he had left his cigarettes as Verbena was clearing the table. She bent over and whispered to her mistress, "He a mighty good catch. I don't think yo' ought to let him off de line."
"What do you mean?" Angel whispered back.
"Yo' ought to marry him."
The thought had occurred to Angel, but only slightly. After seeing the terrible marriage of her parents, the thought of being married herself made her feel extremely nervous. On the other hand, Damien was a wonderful man. Not at all like her father. She would keep it in mind and whatever happened, happened.
While Angel and Damien were having coffee and brandy, a cold gust of wind swept across the veranda and brought with it the far off sound of Voodoo drums.
"Listen," said Damien.
Angel listened to the staccato beat of the drums. They seemed to be entreating her, commanding her attention. The incessant invitation of the drums found her with its enchanted voice, "Come to me-come to me-come to me!"
The moon ascended into view, its lights forming halos around the trees, adding another dimension to the night. It cast a silver glow over the veranda and suddenly the whole setting seemed unreal.
Damien stared at Angel. The loose strands of her hair stirred slightly in the night breeze, capturing the amber from the lamps and framing her face in kind of a burning luminescence. The flickering light glowed in her eyes like a miniature forest fire and Damien thought to himself that she had never been more beautiful.
Verbena came out and joined them. From somewhere in the folds of her skirt she produced a small crooked black cigar. They were one of her chief pleasures in life. She deftly bit off the end and spat it into the garden. She clenched it tightly between her teeth, lit it, and savored its unique flavor. Verbena got the cigars from a Cuban sailor. They were called "Devil's Tongues" because of the twisted shape and strong taste. The tobacco was cured with dark rum and cayenne pepper.
Angel noticed, with a mixture of amusement and affection, that her beloved servant had changed clothes before she had come out to put on a show for Damien. She wore every piece of jewelry she owned and swathed herself in her favorite dress, a pink batik print. Completing the outfit she wore a pair of net gloves with the fingers cut out to show off her many rings.
"I swear, Verbena," said Angel, "I don't know how you smoke those things."
"Well now, honey, dey clear de head and dey warm de heart." She blew a smoke ring and laughed. "I guess I leave yo' two young people alone. I ain't so old dat I don't remember what's comin' up next."
Angel got up, walked to the edge of the veranda, and gazed across the garden to the gazebo which was nestled beneath several magnificent cabbage palms. The clouds parted and the moonlight came shimmering through, illuminating the gazebo so that it resembled a decoration for the top of a wedding cake. The night air was filled with the island sounds. Cicadas trilling, mosquitoes humming, and tree toads twanging like tropic guitars.
Damien walked up behind Angel, put his hands on her shoulder, turned her around and pressed his lips against hers. Angel parted her lips and took his tongue inside. She could feel the outline of his cock in his pants, pressing against her thighs.
"Let's go upstairs," she said.
They left the veranda and started up the grand staircase. Damien swept Angel up in his arms saying, "Isn't this how it's done in the movies?"
Angel laughed, threw her arms around his neck, and nibbled on his ear. When they were inside the bedroom, Angel asked Damien to help her unzip the back of her gown. As she stepped out of it, her full breasts flopped free and Damien reached out to touch them. He cupped them both in his hands.
"Every part of you is beautiful, Angel."
She bent over to step out of her panties and he felt the twin globes of her ass. His cock was straining against the linen fabric of his trousers. Angel hung up her dress and got a hanger.
"Stand perfectly still, Damien. I want to undress you."
He smiled and nodded. She took off his jacket, hung it on a hanger and put it in the closet. Then she wiped off her lipstick on a tissue and came back to him. She kissed him on his eyelids, running her tongue over his eyelashes and eyebrows. Running it down the full length of his nose, she paused to suck the tip of it. Then she traced the outline of his full lips and moved down over his chin, pausing to suck it. Down she slid over his adam's apple to the very top button of his shirt.
"Now stay very still," she whispered.
He stiffened his body like a mannequin. Angel worked on the button with her lips and teeth until it came undone, and then moved on to the next one. When she had finished all the buttons that she could reach, she pulled his shirt out of his pants and undid the last two buttons. Then she bit into the fabric covering his shoulder, pulled off his shirt and dropped it.
Angel knelt down and nuzzled her face against the hardness of his crotch, blowing hot breaths through the fabric of his pants. Damien's cock ached in his pants and he wished that she would hurry, but, at the same time, her slow-motion stripping was turning him on tremendously. Angel tugged at his belt and it came unclasped. She tugged at the snap at the top of his pants and pulled it loose. That left nothing but the zipper. Deftly catching the hook between her teeth, she slowly yanked downward.
Ziiiiiip!
Damien's pants fell to the floor and his cock bounced free, standing stiff and straight. Angel rubbed her cheek against the hot flesh of his prick and moved her head under his cock and balls. Damien parted his legs slightly, feeling the softness of Angel's ash blond hair between his legs caressing his buttocks, his heavy testicles and the underside of his cock.
Angel moved her head slowly back and forth, stroking his sensitive areas with her blond tresses. Then she threw back her head, stuck out her tongue and trailed it under his balls between his legs. Slowly she licked each ball with her wet tongue. Then, opening her mouth wide, she sucked one of them inside, pulling on the sac with her mouth. She opened her mouth wider and, using her fingers, stuffed his other ball inside. She sucked on both of them, letting them roll around in her mouth and coating them with saliva. Then she leaned backward and let them slide out of her mouth. Angel attacked the underside of his cockshaft with her tongue, running up the full length, pausing to tickle the underside of the cockhead.
"God, Angel, oh, God," Damien murmured.
He could feel the perspiration running down the inside of his arms, and his hands were trembling. Angel slid her hands between his legs and clasped his buttocks. She massaged them while she rubbed her face against his pulsating prick. She longed to take it inside her mouth, but she kept putting it off, as one often puts off something pleasurable to build up the anticipation. She pursed her lips and planted a kiss on the small opening at the end of his cock, letting her tongue dart out and dig into the small slit.
Angel opened her mouth wider and let the soft pliable head of his prick ease into her mouth. She clamped her lips around it and sucked, running her tongue over it inside her mouth. Then she began to move her mouth farther down on the cock, slowly taking it in inch by inch, adjusting her position so that she could get it all down her throat. She kept swallowing until her lips brushed the curly black pubic hair at the base of Damien's cock. Then she reared her head back, letting it slide almost all the way out and took it back in again. She continued this sucking rhythm, slowly increasing her tempo.
Damien ran his fingers through her blond hair and clasped his hands together behind her head, holding on but letting her control the rhythm of her sucking. '
Angel pulled her mouth off his cock and said, "Step out of your pants, Damien."
He kicked off his sandals and stepped out of his pants. Angel opened the door of the closet, angling it so that they could see themselves reflected in the mirror.
"Stay exactly where you are," she breathed. She got back down on her knees and took his cock back in her mouth. The two of them glanced at the mirror and watched while she sucked him. Seeing Angel doing it in the mirror turned Damien on even more.
"Oh, that's it, Angel. Suck it! Suck it good!"
She put on quite a show for him, sucking his cock and his balls and rubbing her face over his crotch area. She let her finger ease between his buttocks to play with his asshole.
"Turn around," she commanded.
He swung his body around so that his buttocks were against her face. She started at the base of his back, chewing lightly on a small curly patch of hair which was just above the crease between the cheeks of his ass.
"Bend over," she murmured.
Damien complied and braced his arms on the foot of the bed. He watched her in the mirror as she trailed her tongue down between his muscular buttocks. She pulled his cheeks apart, buried her face between them, and pressed her lips against the soft opening of his ass. She kissed it noisily and then ran her tongue around it before spearing it deep inside. Damien watched her at work and groaned with excitement as she sucked his ass. She ran her hand under his legs and jerked on his cock with the same rhythm with which she was sucking his ass.
"Angel," Damien groaned, "I'm afraid I'm going to come."
"Then lie down on the bed," she replied in a muffled voice.
Angel continued ramming her tongue in and out of his asshole. Feeling his thighs tense, she knew that he was close to climax. Damien fell across the bed, his cock stuck straight up and throbbing like the heart of a long distance runner. Angel put her finger where her tongue had been and coated his cock with saliva. Using her hand, she jerked him off and sucked both of his balls into her mouth.
Damien stuck both of his legs straight out and cried, "Here I go!"
Angel looked up and watched raptly as his thick white load shot out of his cock. The first spurt landed just below his shoulder near his nipple. One, two, three more jets of come, each landing a little closer to his cock, until there was a trail of white sticky sperm down the front of his body. Angel crawled onto the bed, and still fucking his ass with her finger, began licking it up. She started at his chest, pausing to bite on his nipple, and continued on down to the thick hair around his cock. She sucked on the hairs until she had completely licked up every drop of his come. Then she lay down beside him on the bed and pressed her head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart grow normal.
Damien's cock didn't go soft, but remained stiff and hard. He moved down, parted Angel's legs and buried his face in the soft moistness of her cunt. He parted her cunt lips, dove his tongue inside and began ramming it home. Angel spread her legs apart as far as she humanly could and urged him on. She bucked up her pelvis, rubbing her slit against his face. Damien pulled his tongue out of her pussy and searched for her clitoris, the tip of it. Angel writhed wildly as his tongue touched the small organ and it sprang erect. She trembled as the pink invader made love to her clit. Damien moved her body up so that she was balanced on her shoulders and her legs were draped over his shoulders. His legs supported her back as he continued his labial lapping. Her thighs pressed against the side of his head with a crushing force as she pushed her pussy up against his lips. Damien licked her cunt with long strokes of his tongue.
"Ahhhhh, that's beautiful, Damien, that's so good."
He chewed on the tip of her clitoris and Angel's climax began to build inside her. It was a steady, unwavering progression of sensation. Her fingernails dug into the sheets and deep gasps came from her throat. Finally, she cried out and Damien licked her pussy with long hard strokes of his tongue. The more Angel cried out, the harder he lapped, licking up the sweet juices of her cunt. Finally he let her slide back down on the bed and he lay on top of her, pressing his lips against hers. He was completely aroused again and his cock was aching with passion.
"Let me slip it inside you, Angel."
"Yes, do it, Damien, before I come down. But let's do it a different way this time. I told you I wanted to do everything with you."
"Okay," said Damien, "you get on your hands and knees and I'll get behind you."
Angel turned over and positioned herself on her hands and knees. She brushed her hair out of her face and turned her head around to look at Damien. Her violet eyes flashed with desire. She ran her tongue over the outline of her lips and gave him a long, sensuous look. Damien crouched behind her and flexed his knees slightly so that his stiff prick was even with her cunt. He moved forward, sliding his cock between her buttocks, searching for her cunt lips with his fingers and the tip of his swollen cock. He glanced at the mirror and could still see their complete reflection. It was like having another couple in the room and it thoroughly turned him on.
His cock head touched her vaginal lips. He slid it in with a quick movement of his hips. Angel groaned, and her entire body shuddered. He pressed his hand on the small of her back, moving it downward, and turning her buttocks up toward him. He looked down at his thick cock disappearing between her smooth white buttocks and the blood rushed to his head. Delicious sensations of ecstasy roared through his body. He slid his cock in and out of her in a rapidly accelerating rhythm, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips. Angel rocked her buttocks back and forth, meeting his violent thrusts. Then she spread her arms out, lowered herself to her shoulders and buried her face in the pillow. Damien continued slamming his cock into her until his orgasm burned inside of him, making his entire body ache for relief. He bit on his lower lip and tried to hold it back as long as he could, but his need to climax became unbearable and his semen began soaring upward. He felt it burn down the full length of his shaft before it exploded into her pussy.
Angel cried out as she felt it begin to pour into her cunt. She held her body absolutely motionless, so she could feel the raging power erupting from Damien. He shot deep inside her. When the last drop had shot into her cunt, he clasped her around her waist, and pulled her down on her side where they lay quietly gasping for breath. His prick slowly deflated inside of her. They fell asleep in that position, his cock still buried in her cunt.
* * *
Early the next morning, Verbena was preparing breakfast for Angel and Damien in the large kitchen of Cinnamon Hall. She was making angel food, which is not a cake as it is in the United States, but a dish of fruit consisting of peeled oranges and grated coconut. There was a knock on the kitchen door. Verbena looked up and saw Roose's hulking figure framed in the doorway.
"Come on in, Roose. Yo' want a cup of coffee?"
Roose sauntered in, mopping his perspiring brow with a blue bandana. Verbena poured him a steaming cup of coffee and placed a fresh pitcher of cream beside it. Roose added the cream and sipped thoughtfully on the coffee.
"I done heard some news last night."
"Oh," replied Verbena, "'bout what?"
"Yo' knows dat Calinda?"
"Dat no account dat Miss Angel fired? Of course, I knows her."
"Well, yo' don't knows her anymore."
"What yo' mean, Roose?"
"She done wash up on de beach early this morning. 'Pears like she done drown in de bay."
Verbena looked up from her kitchen work and replied, "Is dat so?"
Chapter Eight
Two weeks later Damien left Montego Bay bound for Paris and a meeting with Philippe Leveque to discuss the future of the business. Angel kept the shop closed and spent her time redecorating Cinnamon Hall to make it more presentable for party-giving. She wanted to get to know the more interesting people on the island and to be able to entertain.
"Yo' just like yo' mother," said Verbena, "she liked havin' parties, too."
Lucien and several specially hired natives were repainting the living room. Lucien had never mentioned that particular night to Angel and she had never mentioned it to him. She thought about it occasionally in her fantasies when she found herself missing Damien more than she had expected or even wanted to.
Angel selected a light yellow paint for the walls and white for the ceiling, the shutters and the woodwork. The heavy Oriental carpets had been taken up and put into storage, and she planned to have the mahogany floor refinished and highly polished. She wanted to achieve an open, airy effect and get rid of the dark somber mood which had pervaded the house ever since her mother had left. Her father had the house redone, obliterating the citrus colors that had been her mother's, and now her, favorites. Angel was restoring the house from memory, trying to achieve the same graceful, friendly atmosphere which her mother had achieved. She got rid of the heavy, ponderous furniture and replaced it with rattan pieces fashioned by island craftsmen and painted white by Lucien and his helpers.
Angel tried to keep busy but her thoughts kept returning to sex. At first she longed for Damien and then she just longed for a substitute. She thought about satiating herself with the silver handled hairbrush, but after her varied experiences, she knew that that wouldn't be enough.
That particular day, Verbena was shopping in the city and Angel was alone in the house with the workers. She was having Lucien carry some of the discarded furniture down to the basement of the house. She went ahead of him to direct him where to put it. One section of the cellar contained her father's enormous wine cellar and the other section was used for storage. The weather was extremely hot, but the cellar was as cool as the underside of a banana leaf. Lucien struggled with a heavy arm chair, and when he set it down, he sat down himself on it to catch his breath.
"Yo' mind if I get myself a drink, Miss Angel?"
"Not at all, Lucien."
The servant padded across the cold cement floor to the sink, turned on the faucet and stuck his head under, letting it splash over the back of his neck and down his shoulders. Then he opened his mouth and drank from the faucet. Angel stared at him, wanting to run her hands over his smooth, muscular back. Lucien was wearing his usual white cotton pants and as he bent to drink the water, the fabric strained across his high, firm buttocks. He straightened up and splashed some of the water over his chest and arms.
"You don't have to stop there, Lucien, if you're really warm."
He glanced at his mistress and knew what she meant. He undid the string at the waist of his pants and stepped out of them. Angel focused her attention on his cock and balls. He spread his legs apart and splashed the cool water over his crotch. Then he turned around and took handfuls of it and let it run down over his backside.
"Dat feels good, Miss Angel."
She walked over to him, took handfuls of water in her small hands and emptied them over his flat abdomen, watching the water run over his curly pubic hair, down the shaft of his cock, and drip off the tip.
"Yo' look mighty hot, Miss Angel. Yo' want me to splash you down, too?"
Angel nodded her head and began unbuttoning the front of her dress. It was a simple cotton print and unbuttoned all the way down the front. When she reached her waist, Lucien's hands stretched out and took over undoing the rest of the buttons. Angel slid the dress off her body and stepped out of her panties.
"Um-um," Lucien said eyeing the smooth white curves of her body. He cupped his great hands under the water and spilled the cooling liquid over Angel's body. It ran between her breasts, over her abdomen and tickled her cunt lips. He poured some on her shoulders and it streamed down her back and into the crease of her buttocks. It was a delightful sensation. Lucien filled his two palms once again and held them full of water under Angel's breasts and then he spread his fingers and let the liquid dribble down her flesh. He wrapped his strong brown fingers around her globes and massaged her nipples between his fingers. They were hard and rigid. He leaned forward and sucked on one of them, moving his tongue back and forth over the tip. His other hand slid down her flattened stomach and came to rest en her pussy mound. Then, using two fingers, he parted her cunt lips and slid his middle finger inside. Angel was wet with anticipation, and his finger went in easily.
"Yo' wants me to pleasure yo', Miss Angel?"
"Oh, yes, Lucien, yes."
He glanced around the room for something for them to lie on. The cold concrete floor would be too uncomfortable. There was a long, low table nearby. He wrapped his hands around Angel's narrow waist, picked her up, carried her a few feet and set her on the table. The table was low enough so that her cunt was just at the right level of his cock. He spread her legs apart and lifted them up so that her calves rested on his shoulders. Then he pressed the head of his hard cock against her labial folds. Angel reached down and, using her fingers, parted her cunt lips for him, allowing him to enter easily.
Lucien pushed and grunted and swiveled his hips, fighting to get deeper into her delectable cunt. He felt her tight lips sucking and strangling at his prick. Angel opened up and he went crashing into the depths of her cunt all the way up to the balls. Lucien reared his body back, pulling his cock almost all the way out and slamming it back in. Angel let out a gurgling cry of delight and clasped her hands around the edge of the table to brace herself against the slamming of his cock. Lucien ground his teeth together and began a smooth fucking rhythm. His large hands toyed with the twin globes of her ass as he pumped in and out of her hot slit.
"Give it to me, Lucien. Oh, give it to me!" Angel cried out.
His fingers probed at the opening of her asshole, but it was tight and unrelenting. He lifted his hand to his mouth and spit in it and put his hand back against her ass letting the saliva lubricate her hole. Little by little he was able to get his long thick finger imbedded into her ass and he finger-fucked her asshole as he plowed her cunt with his rampaging cock. Angel pushed her pelvis forward to get every bit of his prick into her. Angel, who had been so pent up and frustrated, went into her first orgasm. She banged the back of her head against the table as Lucien worked hard to catch up with her.
"Fuck me, Lucien," she screamed. "Fuck me!"
He continued jabbing his finger in and out of her asshole as his cock plummeted her cunt. His heavy, sperm-swollen balls slapped against her backside.
"I'm comin', Miss Angel, I'm comin'!"
"Give it to me! Shoot it in all the way, Lucien! Give me all of your come!"
When the first jet of his sperm seared the inside of her cunt passage, Angel squealed with delight.
"Oh, that's it' Fill me up-fill me all the way up with that juice!"
Semen gushed forth, overflowed her cunt and ran between her ass cheeks and onto his finger, which was fucking her ass. The lubrication of the come made her ass open up and he slid another finger inside and began spearing her hole with two fingers.
"Oh, Lucien, pull out of my cunt and jam it up my ass. Keep it hard and fuck me up the ass, too!"
His cock was still shooting when he pulled it out of her cunt He withdrew his fingers and slid his cock easily into her anal passage.
"Keep it going, Lucien, keep it going. I'm going to come again!"
He moved her buttocks higher so that he could get his cock in all the way and continued his strokes. Angel squealed and locked her legs around the back of his neck. She thrashed with total abandon, now in the grip of her orgasm.
"I'm coming. I'm coming again," she screamed hotly.
Lucien pulled his cock out of her ass and jammed his face into her come-smeared cunt and began lapping up the mixture of their juices, hers blending with his, sweet and spicy. He continued lapping until he had licked all of his own come out of her cunt. When he finished, Angel lay on the table, a quivering mass of flesh. Finally she was able to sit up and Lucien helped her to her feet.
"I suppose we had better get back upstairs," she said quietly.
"Yes, I suppose we better, Miss Angel."
The two of them rinsed off at the sink and got dressed.
"When yo' think all dis redecorating goin' to be finished, Miss Angel?"
"I would think by the end of the month, Lucien. Why?"
"I gonna' have to leave den, Miss Angel."
"Leave? You mean leave Cinnamon Hall?"
"Yes, ma'am. I gonna' take my mama back home to Port-au-Prince. She thinks she dyin' and she wants to go back to Haiti."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Does your mother live with you, Lucien?"
"No, she lives in de swamp. She Maman Lala, de Obeah woman."
"Now isn't that a coincidence," replied Angel. "I didn't know."
* * *
Later that week Angel got a letter from Damien.
"Dearest Angel: Things are going smoothly here. I like your uncle and aunt very much. They treat me like a son. I will probably have to stay two weeks longer to learn everything about the business that I can. Philippe took me to the jewelry cutter's yesterday. I never imagined it was such a precise art. I don't know how I can bear two more weeks without seeing you. Angel, I miss you more than I can say. My days, of course, are filled with work, but my nights are agonizingly empty. How's the redecorating at Cinnamon Hall coming? By the way, I bought you a present. I hope you like it. I'll see you as soon as possible. Love, Damien."
Love, Damien, Angel said to herself. How easily he had written it and how easily she had said it. She wondered, once again, if she did love him or was it, as they say, absence making the heart grow fonder? She hoped he would be back for the Dimanche Gras, the yearly carnival that was held in Montego Bay, signifying the start of the tourist season.
Everything at Cinnamon Hall was practically finished and Angel was immensely pleased with the result. But she knew deep down she wasn't redecorating her house just for herself. She had wanted to please Damien, too. She was surprised when she received an invitation in the mail to the Governor's Ball, which was to be held on the first night of Dimanche Gras. It was to be a costume ball and Angel was in a quandary on how to go.
She was driving into Montego Bay that afternoon when she passed the ruins of Rose Hall, which was perhaps the best known great house in Jamaica. Not because of its great size or magnificence, but because of the strange stories connected with the life of one of its former mistresses who was known as the White Witch of Jamaica, a notorious Mrs. Palmer whose three husbands all died under curious circumstances. Mrs. Palmer was skilled at Obeah magic and, so legend had it, put a spell on a young girl who was married to her black overseer. The girl died hideously and Mrs. Palmer took the overseer as her lover.
That's how I'll go, Angel said to herself. I'll go as the White Witch of Rose Hall. After doing her shopping in Montego Bay, she stopped by the archives to look up some information on the notorious woman. She found in an ancient, crumbling book an original sketch of Mrs. Palmer which had been done by a native artist. It was primitive, but the lines were clear and Angel was able to see the details of her dress.
Angel stared at the drawing. Strange. The face, though hard and cruel, somehow looked like her own. Yes, there was a definite resemblance. Well, she thought, that is even better for the masquerade.
She asked the attendant for a sheet of paper and a pencil and she did her own drawing, modifying the riding habit of Mrs. Palmer somewhat. Mrs. Palmer wore a derby hat which sported a bit of black veiling that swept around either side of the hat and fell down the back about three feet. The riding outfit itself was black, probably silk, and consisted of two pieces-a long sleeved jacket that buttoned almost to the chin and was pinched in at the waist. It fell just below the hips. And a full skirt made fuller by several slips that flared at the bottom. Underneath the jacket, there was a white-laced blouse that peeked out at the neck and cuffs. Angel eliminated the blouse in her version and changed the jacket so that there was a good deal of d�colletage. She made the skirt tighter around the hips and accentuated the flare. She took her sketch and went to Hattie's to ask her advice about finding a seamstress. Hattie was surprised at Angel's choice of costume, but made no comment on it. She said that she could order the material and the hat for her from New York City, have it flown down special delivery and it would be there within two days. Angel thanked her for her trouble.
Hattie replied, "No trouble at all, Angel. After all, you've become one of my best customers. When the material comes in, I'll call the girl and have her bring it to the house with her. And you can pay her according to the time she spends on it."
As Angel was coming out of the shop, she ran into Terry, Damien's long-haired, blond friend who worked as maitre'd at the Maison Fleurs.
"Good afternoon, Angel. Is Damien still in Paris?"
"Yes, he is," she replied.
"Why don't you come into the club tonight? Rexall has gotten together a new act. It should be lots of fun. Now that the tourists have started to trail in, it should be a good crowd."
"Maybe I'll do that, Terry. What time are the shows?"
"Nine-thirty and eleven-thirty."
"I don't think I can make the one at nine-thirty, but I'll try for the eleven-thirty one."
"Good. I'll hold a table for you."
When Angel got back to Cinnamon Hall, she wrote a letter to Damien urging him to try to make it back for the Dimanche Gras. Then she showed Verbena a picture of the sketch of Mrs. Palmer and told her how she planned to go to the Ball.
"Amassi, yo' shouldn't be temptin' de gods by goin' dressed as dat evil woman."
"Well, I think she's a perfectly marvelous character to go dressed as to the masquerade ball."
Verbena knew better than to argue with her headstrong mistress, but decided to take a trip to Maman Lala just in case.
After a late supper with Verbena, Angel decided to take a nap before getting ready to go to Maison Fleurs. She got up shortly after nine-thirty. After showering, she perfumed herself with Angelique and got into another new dress, an emerald green silk cocktail dress that was sleeveless, with a neckline that plunged practically to her navel. She stopped at Verbena's room, this time telling her she was going out.
"With no man?" Verbena asked incredulously.
"That's right."
After Angel left, Verbena said aloud, "I wish dat Miss Angel settle herself down. Maybe when Damien get back." Then her face brightened. "When I goes to Maman Lala, I get her to make me a batch of Marryin' Drops. Can't have dem two runnin' away from each other. Dey in love, even if dey don't know it."
When Angel arrived at Maison Fleurs, Terry seated her at a small table near the stage. She ordered a drink and noticed that the three people at the next table were staring in her direction. The man was slender and very tan. He wore his black hair cropped extremely short and had a moustache and beard that was beautifully trimmed. His two companions were both young girls. Angel thought they were the most attractive women she had ever seen. They were both tall. One was a redhead with a full mane of bright red hair and large blue eyes. The other girl was quite dark. She had thick, shoulder-length black hair and her skin was olive toned. The man toasted Angel and asked:
"Are you all alone?"
"Yes, I am."
"Please join us."
"All right," replied Angel.
He pulled out an extra chair and seated her. Then he introduced himself. His name was Ryan Mac Donald. The redheaded girl's name was Kate Malone and the dark haired girl was Lucia Bartoluzzi. He was a photographer from Glamour magazine and the two girls were models. They were down in Montego Bay shooting a magazine layout featuring swimsuits.
The show started and Rexall Fleurs was outrageous. If anything, his show was even more risque. Nicole sang a song about poppers. Angel turned to MacDonald and whispered, "What are poppers?"
He smiled and replied, "I'll explain later."
Several more rounds of drinks appeared during the show and by the time it was over, Angel felt a trifle high. The photographer asked Angel if she would like to join them for a night cap at the beach house they had rented. She agreed. Angel followed them in her car. The beach house was one of the most expensive on the island. It was a large modern affair, complete with its own private beach. Inside, MacDonald suggested they take some blankets and go down to the beach. He went to the refrigerator and got several bottles of white wine and a small yellow box. Angel stared at it.
"These are poppers, Angel. You can try one when we get down on the beach."
"What do you do with it?"
"You sniff it. It gives you a rush."
"It's not dangerous, is it?"
"Not unless you have a heart condition. Certainly not at your age."
The girls spread out the beach towels and the four of them sat down. The photographer opened the white wine and they passed it from mouth to mouth.
"Why don't we all take a swim," suggested MacDonald.
"That's a good idea," said Lucia, scrambling to her feet. She stood up and stripped out of her cocktail dress.
MacDonald took off his clothes. Angel stared at his large uncircumcised cock. Kate took off her clothes and urged Angel to do the same. In a few minutes, all four of them were rushing into the surf. After they frolicked in the water, they lay down on the blankets and rolled around drying themselves. MacDonald opened another bottle of wine and passed it around.
"Care to try one of these poppers, Angel?"
"Sure. If you all do."
He cracked one open and handed it to her.
"Just sniff deeply."
Angel did as he said and a sudden, hot feeling rushed to her head. She felt delightfully giddy, laughed and lay back on the blanket. She cried, "I'm spinning. I'm spinning."
She felt MacDonald's mouth over hers. She'd never been kissed by a man with a moustache and beard before. It felt delightful, but when he moved his face away, Kate bent down and kissed her on the mouth. Strange, Angel thought to herself. It didn't feel any different than being kissed by a man. Then Lucia followed suit. .Lucia and Kate moved to Angel's breasts. While they sucked on her nipples, they broke another popper. Mac-Donald got between Angel's legs, brushing his furry mouth against her pubic hair. His hair stung and tickled the tender folds of her labia. He parted her vagina and pressed his open lips against her cunt lips. His teeth sought out her clitoris and he began chewing on it. Angel groaned with pleasure as he chewed on her clitoral bud and the two girls chewed on her hard nipples.
Then they switched positions. The two girls broke another popper and scooted down to Angel's crotch. MacDonald straddled her face and pressed his hard prick against her mouth. Angel opened her mouth and took his cock between her lips. The two girls lapped at Angel's cunt simultaneously. MacDonald put a popper under Angel's nose. She relaxed completely and took him all the way in, right up to the balls. He began bucking his hips back and forth and thrusting his hard cock down her throat. Angel was delighted to find herself the center of everybody's attention. Then suddenly MacDonald withdrew from her mouth and got off.
Kate then straddled Angel's face and pressed her pussy against Angel's wet lips. Angel opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue and began lapping at Kate's soft, velvety folds. Lucia got on her hands and knees and pressed her face against Angel's cunt and continued lapping at Angel's moist passage. MacDonald came in behind the dark-haired girl and jammed his throbbing prick into her cunt. More poppers were broken and everybody began working toward a frenzied orgasm. Kate squeezed her thighs against Angel's cheeks and cried out. "I'm going to come."
Angel lapped at Kate's cunt and a strange taste began coating her tongue. She was so excited she went into orgasm herself and Lucia sucked her cunt with wild abandon. At the same time MacDonald began to empty his hot load up Lucia's cunt. Then he pulled out and turned Lucia over on her back. Kate and he took turns lapping the hot juices out of her sticky hole.
Kate ran back to the house and got another bottle of wine and a double-headed dildo. She took a sniff of popper and inserted one end into her cunt. Lucia lay down and inserted the other end in hers. Then the two girls began pumping wildly on the artificial prick. Watching them, MacDonald and Angel got excited again. MacDonald rolled on top of Angel and mounted her, pressing his stiff cock against her still slick opening. He slid inside her and began fucking her wildly. Angel wrapped her legs around the small of his back. The two girls started watching.
"Fuck her," they chanted, "Fuck her good, Ryan. Fuck her hard."
Then Ryan wrapped his arms around Angel's waist and they turned over so that she was sitting on her knees over him. Angel began moving her pelvis, completely engulfing his long cock. The girls disengaged themselves from the dildo and got between MacDonald's legs, pushed them as far apart as they possibly could, and sucked on his balls. Now Angel's cunt slid up and down on his stiff prick. They passed Angel and Ryan another popper and they started fucking furiously. Angel rammed herself up and down on his stiff rod and Ryan ground his buttocks up to meet her. Ryan started shooting. His come ran out of Angel's cunt, down the base of his prick and over his balls. The two girls were waiting to lap it up.
It was four o'clock in the morning when Angel got back to Cinnamon Hall. After taking a shower, she went to bed and was surprised to find that after her extensive sexual activities she was still yearning for Damien.
Chapter Nine
On the day of the Dimanche Gras Ball, Angel received a telegram from Damien.
"He's coming home!"
"When?" asked Verbena anxiously.
"He doesn't say. Oh, I wish he were here to take me to the Governor's Ball."
Angel had asked Terry to escort her to the Ball. He came to pick her up at the house, dressed as a plantation overseer.
"I thought that since you were going as Mrs. Palmer, I would complement your outfit."
He wore a hat made of palm leaves and a homespun shirt and trousers. After a cocktail, they drove down the mountainside to Montego Bay, where the streets were jammed with tourists and natives caught up in the spirit of Carnival. The loud calypso rhythms practically shook the trees as the revelers danced in front of the car, allowing the young couple to move only a few feet at a time. The masqueraders swarmed around the vehicle like ants around a sweet, banging melodies on the door of the car, crawling across the hood, and crying, "Dimanche Gras! Dimanche Gras!"
They reached the Governor's mansion, which had been decorated like a pirate's cave. Giant pieces of pink coral and hundreds of orchids were arranged around the entrance which was lit up by colored lights embedded in clusters of seashells.
The Governor, ludicrously dressed as a pirate captain complete with eye patch, came forward to greet them.
"Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum," he bellowed, winking lewdly with his remaining eye at Angel. "That's quite an authentic looking costume, Angel."
Angel laughed. "If I could only live up to her reputation."
"If you have any trouble, come and see me," the Governor said suggestively, squeezing her arm.
Angel pulled free from him and went into the ballroom. An Americanized native band was playing a waltz as couples were circling the floor. Angel and Terry descended the parquet steps that led to the dance floor and several people stopped dancing and looked at Angel. As they moved onto the floor, more people stopped and stared at her through their frivolous masks. Terry took her hand, pulled her to him, and they began to waltz. Terry swept her around the floor and the rest of the dancers stopped and watched them until they were the only ones dancing. Angel felt exhilarated. She closed her eyes and pretended she was dancing with Damien. The waltz became faster and the masks spun past her blending one into another.
"Stop," Angel said breathlessly. "We must stop."
The people parted to let them through. Several were clapping their hands. Terry guided Angel to an empty table and they sat down.
"Would you care for something cool to drink?" he asked.
She nodded and he left her alone at the table. When he returned, Terry had a huge grin on his face.
"Excuse me, Miss Angel, but there's somebody here to see you."
She looked up. Standing at the top of the stairs was Damien. They forced their way through the crowds of people until they stood facing one another. And in that moment, time melted away and they were once again young and in love.
Three days later Angel and Damien were married in a ceremony at Cinnamon Hall. A local minister officiated and Verbena, Roose and Terry were the only people present. At Angel's wish, the wedding took place in the gazebo. Verbena had gotten up at dawn to decorate the gazebo with boughs of honeysuckle and dogwood.
Angel wore a long, white chiffon gown which had belonged to her mother and Damien was handsomely dressed in a dark blue raw silk suit he had purchased in Paris. Verbena beamed happily as they were pronounced man and wife ... Mr. and Mrs. Damien Cilento. Verbena thought to herself, dem Marryin' Drops done worked.
Angel was the happiest person in the world. She felt that her brief, but wild experiences were behind her. She wanted to concentrate on loving Damien and loving Damien alone and having his children ...
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER
Suzanne Leveque Cilento thought it must be the most wonderful thing in the world to be fifteen. She was no longer a little girl. She felt she was on the brink of discovery-the discovery of herself.
No longer little girl dresses and little girl games. There were new games to play.
She sat down at her mother's dressing table and brushed her long, ash blond hair with her mother's silver-handled hair brush. Then she examined her skin for blemishes. There were none.
Her parents were in the village. Suzanne had locked the door and was trying on her mother's grown-up dresses. She posed and preened in front of the mirror trying to achieve a sophisticated look for the imaginary lovers in her life.
Bored with her game, she stripped out of her mother's cocktail dress and hung it back in the closet. She lay back on the bed nude and her fingers explored her young body. She spread her legs apart and flexed her pelvis. Her fingers slid down her stomach and touched her downy pubic hair. Gingerly they stroked her vaginal lips. She fantasized about the young man on the island who she and seen and been attracted to.
Her fingers began exploring the inner recesses of her young cunt. She longed to have a real lover. She toyed with the delicate tip of her clitoral bud and she threw her head back and forth on the bed in ecstasy. Suddenly her eyes fell upon the silver-handled hair brush glinting in the noonday sun ...
