The Red-Hot Cajun (26 page)

Val looked at him and crossed her eyes.

“Will ya be wearin’ white or beige at yer weddin’?” his aunt inquired sweetly of Val. Before Val could sputter in outrage, his aunt went on. “Charmaine wore red to her weddin’. What a hoot that was. Mebbe ya could wear red.”

“Tante Lulu, there is not going to be a wedding,” Rene said as gently as he could.

His aunt slapped her thigh with glee. “What a kidder!” She was still laughing as she returned to the galley kitchen.

Val arched her brows at him. “A kidder, huh?”

He arched his brows back at her. Let her think what she wanted.

You could say he got a little behind

Supper that evening was a spectacular event, something Valerie would remember for the rest of her life.

They were docked at Stop Off, a small community along the bayou. Rene had told her that Stop Off was one of the towns that would disappear completely someday if drastic measures weren’t taken now.

They would stay that night in a nearby cut-rate motel, the type of place Valerie normally would not step in, let alone sleep in, but the proprietor assured them that there would be clean sheets. And no roaches, since they’d been fumigated the week before.
I
do not need to hear about roaches. Lordy, Lordy!
The only saving grace was that the rooms had air-conditioning and showers.

They’d spread a plastic tablecloth over the built-in table in the middle of the boat, the place where they sorted shrimp from the by-catch. On paper plates, with plastic cutlery and disposable cups filled with white wine, they dined on food that would do a four-star restaurant proud. Crawfish etouffee, a loaf of French bread that had been purchased that morning fresh from the oven, dirty rice, fried okra, sliced tomatoes from Tante Lulu’s garden, liberally sprinkled with salt, pepper and olive oil, and rum-soaked bread pudding for dessert.

The old lady beamed at all the well-deserved compliments tossed her way. Valerie had to give her credit, not just for the meal, but for her healing arts, as well. On several of their stops today, she had regaled them with stories about her herbal remedies as she gathered plants, which she put in labeled Ziploc bags. She would dry and package them when she got home.

Where Tante Lulu got her energy at her age was a wonder. In fact, Valerie had asked her just that.

To which, Tante Lulu had replied, “Me, I only gots so many years left, and I wants to fill every minute.” A good philosophy for anyone.

Justin was having a great time including Tante Lulu in the documentary. She would be a celebrity of sorts if this thing ever aired.

But now they were all replete. Tante Lulu and Tee-John gathered up all disposables and other trash into the tablecloth, which apparently was disposable, too, and went off to a nearby Dumpster. J.B. and Maddie went off to their motel room. Rene was rooming with Tee-John. And Val got to sleep with Tante Lulu once again.
Oh, joy!

She and Rene watched the sun set on the horizon. It would be dark soon. He stood behind her at the rail, his arms around her. They were watching a flock of ibises return to their rookeries. These were snow-white birds with black wing tips, probably one of the many species made famous by Audubon.

“I want to be with you,” Rene murmured against her ear, then nipped at the lobe with his teeth.

She shivered, which was remarkable considering the high temperature and humidity. “I want you, too, Rene. But not here. And not without taking a shower. I probably stink.”

Rene laughed and squeezed her tight. “Darlin’, sweaty sex has an attraction all its own. Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He ran his hands down her sides from under her arms, over her waist and hips, then back up to rest under her breasts.

“Rene,” she cautioned.

“I jus’ wanna play a bit,
chère.”

“No,” she said, pushing his hand down to the more safe territory of her waist. “I am not playing any more of your near-sex games.”

“Hey, I give good near-sex.”

“Too good.”

“Maybe I could slip into your room after Tante Lulu falls asleep.”

“Yeah, right. She probably has a motion detector on the door. She already propped a St. Jude statue on my headboard.”

He laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“I know I am.”

“We could have closet sex. There is a closet, isn’t there?”

She went stiff with horror at the prospect of such a thing. “No closets.”

Her voice must have been shrill because Rene sensed her alarm and asked, “Why no closets?”

“My mother used to lock me in a closet,” she revealed, then wished she hadn’t. She never talked about that. Never.

“Val,” he said sadly. “What could you possibly have done to merit such a punishment?”

She thought about declining to answer, but that was silly. It was a long time ago. “Getting a B on a test, instead of an A. Getting mud on the carpet. Being dishevelled when I came home from school. Once, she locked me in the closet because I got a zit. Oh, and okra, if I failed to eat all my okra. I hate okra.”

“I noticed you didn’t eat any at supper.” His voice was soft with sympathy. Thankfully all he added was, “Poor baby.”

She leaned back to relish the feel of his breath on her skin... and to drop this distasteful subject.

“How about the bathroom?” he tried again.

She smiled. “Give it up, boy.”

“We could go in there and lock the door.”

“Have you seen the size of those bathrooms?” There was barely room to turn around with the sink, toilet, and shower stall all crammed in there.

“I don’t need much room.”

His roaming hands played with her breasts.

She didn’t have the heart or inclination to stop him. Just yet. Instead, she arched her back to give him more of a playing field.

“You are killing me,” he whispered hoarsely.

She could feel against her back just how much she was killing him. Temptation was a potent thing, and Valerie was sorely tempted.

He cupped her mound now and undulated himself against her. “Betcha we could make love with you just standing there. Anyone walking by on shore wouldn’t suspect a thing.” Luckily the side of the boat covered them from the waist down.

“How?” she squeaked out, feeling embarrassed and very much aroused.

“Just hold on, sugar. We’re off to the races.”

Before she could say, “Holy moley!” he had her shorts and undies down to her ankles. Likewise for his own shorts and jockeys. She was about say, “Wait a minute, I changed my mind,” but he already had a finger stroking her down below testing her readiness.

I’m ready, I’m ready,
she wanted to scream, but she was still too shy to do that. Amazing that after what she did with him last week she still had any modesty left.

“Are you ready, babe?” he asked huskily against her neck, as if reading her mind, then bit her shoulder, like a stallion about to mount a mare, for goodness sake. She’d read that somewhere in a book.

She tried to tell him that she was more than ready, but it was too late. He’d taken her silence for assent. Lifting her to tiptoe, he bent his knees and entered her from behind. She grabbed the railing tight for balance, and found herself in the vulnerable position of being unable to touch him. But he could touch her.

And, boy oh boy, did he ever!

His hands were everywhere. Her breasts. Her buttocks. Her exposed folds. She was in a frenzy of excitement trying to concentrate on each of the separate places he was setting afire. And the whole time he plunged himself in and out of her. Forget about embarrassment! They both glistened with perspiration and panted with their exertions in this intense heat.

“You folks havin’ a problem?”

Valerie and Rene’s heads shot up to see a man walking from the bar close to the dock, probably heading home to one of those cottages on stilts.

“No, we’re just fine,” Rene said, even as he did something really naughty to her between her legs.

“We’re just enjoying—”

She smacked him.

“—the moon.” Rene was chuckling. The lout!

“Oh, I thought I heard some moanin’.”

Valerie began to climax, and, yes, she did moan.

“Must be the wind,” Rene said. She leaned back against his chest, and he whispered in her ear, “Shhh, he’ll be gone soon.”

“Well, have a nice evenin’.”

“We will,” Rend replied. Then, under his breath, “Guaranteed.”

No sooner did the man pass the boat than Rend began to plunge in and out of her with short hard strokes. When he grunted out his own orgasm, Valerie spasmed around him again.

Once their breathing was back to normal and their shorts pulled back up, Valerie told him, “You have no idea how out of character this is for me.”

“What?”

“Casual sex.”

He shook his head at her. “Didn’t you know? This is not casual sex.”

What is it then?
she wanted to ask, but didn’t have the nerve.

But a voice in her head answered for her.
You know.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She wore an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny

The next day they continued down the bayou, out to the Gulf, and Grand Isle, the largest of the barrier islands and the only one still inhabited today.

Rene sat on the beach, alone, just enjoying the view. J.B. and Maddie were doing some motor stuff on the fishing boat. Tante Lulu had forced Tee-John to accompany her to a market, even though he’d wanted to check out a bikini-clad girl he’d spotted on the beach. Justin and Valerie were off interviewing and taping some older residents who had stories to tell about “the old days.”

Rene loved Grand Isle.

In the 1890s Creoles made it a posh resort, complete with fine hotels, bathhouses, gambling halls, an observatory, and a mule-drawn tram. It was the site of Kate Chopin’s famous novel
The Awakening.
All that ended in 1909 with a hurricane that whipped 150 mph winds and fifteen-foot storm surges, causing the death of 350 people. Even today, it is the benchmark storm to which all other storms are compared. At that time, most of Southern Louisiana was affected by the size of the surge. Rene couldn’t imagine the devastation today if a similar storm occurred because most of the buffers were now gone.

Val and Justin were practically googly-eyed at the first sight of this island, even though they’d both grown up in Southern Louisiana. The contrast was stark between the natural beauty of the island, despite its tacky souvenir shops and modern restaurants, and the numerous oil wells visible out on the Gulf. Many people didn’t realize there were several thousand oil platforms and drilling rigs out there, serving more than twenty-five thousand wells. They represented money and power.

Only cottages and motels existed here now, used by fishermen, bird-watchers, and sun worshipers. It could no longer continue as a fancy resort island with high-priced hotels due to the many lashings by hurricanes over the years. But there was a charm in this battered survivor of times past.

Val came up and dropped down to the sand beside Rene”. She wore her hair in a knot atop her head, sunglasses, a Trial TV T-shirt, and white shorts. To him, she looked sexier than hell.

He leaned over and gave her a brief kiss. Funny how natural that came to him! He was getting awfully comfortable with Valerie Breaux, and that made him uncomfortable.

Justin was standing a short distance away making conversation with a twenty-fiveish woman who worked in one of the shops. The body language between the two of them was clearly man-woman.

Val took off her sunglasses and turned to look at what he was staring at. “Still think he’s gay?”

“Could be. You never know today,” he said obstinately. “Did you and Justin get everything you wanted?”

“More than! This one old guy could remember his grandfather talking about the big hurricane here, and he has pictures he’s going to let us copy.”

“Good for you!” Her enthusiasm was a joy to watch.

She gazed out over the water, taking in the not-so-scenic view of oil platforms on the horizon. “Do you hate the oil companies?”

“No, of course not. Oil is a necessity. And, to be honest, nobody knew decades ago how devastating the effect would be on the environment. It’s almost like the cigarette companies in that they fight tooth and nail over paying to correct their prior acts, and they have to be watched constantly or they revert to old ways. Actually, much of the coastal erosion is due to honest human error. In particular, the levees.”

She cocked her head in question.

“For centuries people have been trying to tame the lower Mississippi River, which we now know was a mistake. They built levee after levee to prevent flooding when, in fact, the annual flooding and alluvial depositing is what created the coastline. Some scientists say that it took seventy centuries to build up the Louisiana we had in the nineteenth century, but in the past hundred years we’ve depleted one-third of that.”