The Scandalous Summer of Sissy LeBlanc (29 page)

liquor on his breath, close enough to see the skin sagging on his

cheeks and the creases in his neck. She usually hated old people,

because of their wrinkles and sags, but Bourrée was different or he

seemed different after all the moonshine. She thought his face was

dissipated and interesting, etched by experience. She shivered in her

skimpy skirt and cotton sweater, and saw mischief sparkle in his

steel-blue eyes.

Bourrée took off his jacket and wrapped it and his arms around

her. She leaned unsteadily into him. He squeezed her shoulders and

she felt a forbidden thrill.

She watched him load his gun. The sun hung on the treetops and

the woods grew cold. The crickets came out and the frogs sang to

them. Bourrée took off the safety.

At the place where the creek turned north he spotted a flight of

ducks. They soared in formation over the treetops. Then they

dipped down low, skimming close to the water. Bourrée cradled

the shotgun in his arms, took his time fixing his sights, and when

his prey was right where he wanted it, he squeezed the trigger and

blew a duck out of the sky. Sissy saw it fall away from the flock

and drop into the creek. She felt a surge of excitement she had

never known.

Bourrée released the dogs. Joyously they leaped, yipping and

crashing through the icy water, racing each other to get at the fallen

bird. The black-and-gray bitch pushed her way through the pack

and swam back to lay the kill at Bourrée’s feet. She wagged her tail

proudly. Bourrée threw the dead bird into his game bag and said to

Sissy, “Your turn.”

For a moment she didn’t understand. Was he going to shoot her?

Then he handed her the shotgun. She took it with reverence,

cradling it in her arms just as he’d done. He reached around her and

loaded it and stood in back of her, cradling her in his arms, his

hands under hers, until they spotted the next flight. She felt his

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body come alive as he sighted with her, but she was stiff and fright-

ened. She’d never killed anything.

“Pull the trigger, girl.”

The explosion rocked her body, and the birds seemed to laugh as

they flew away, leaving her with a terrible sense of loss.

“That’s all right, you’ve got one more shot. Just relax and

remember, pick your bird, follow it, and don’t let it out of your

sight, not for a second.”

As they waited together, little by little, she abandoned herself to

his arms, so that when they spotted the next flight, they were one.

He turned her, following the dark silhouettes as they dipped down

toward the creek. This time she was ready for the explosion. And

when she saw the bird drop straight into the creek, Sissy knew what

power was.

She turned to him, her face shining. “I did it. I did it, didn’t I?”

He smiled a tight little smile and took the shotgun from her. She

was hugging him now. He dropped the gun and took her face in his

hand. “We did it!” she corrected herself breathlessly.

He kissed her lips. He was old. Over forty. Nobody this old had

ever kissed her before, not like this. She could taste liquor and

tobacco on his lips. They tasted wicked and grown-up. Still, she

pushed him away. “I don’t think you should have done that, Mr.

LeBlanc. It just isn’t right.”

“Call me Bourrée, sugar.” He stroked her cheek and offered her

another drink from his flask. “Everybody calls me Bourrée.” And

when he kissed her again, after she’d had a long drink, Sissy felt a

new kind of excitement. Deep and sinful.

He laid her down on a bed of fragrant pine needles in the duck

blind.

As her hair touched the sand, her head started to spin from the

moonshine. The black-and-gray bitch was panting in her face.

Sissy’s dead duck was in her mouth.

Bourrée flipped the bird into his game bag next to his other kills

and pushed the bitch away. Then he turned back to Sissy and pulled

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up her sweater. As her white cotton bra came into view, Bourrée

said, “I already seen this.” He reached around in back of her and

snapped off her bra. “But not these.”

Sissy knew she should stop him, and she had started to protest

when suddenly a deep pleasure pulsed through her body and she

didn’t want to stop him anymore. Bourrée was licking her nipples

with his tongue. Sissy wondered if Parker had licked his cousin’s

breasts. And then when Bourrée started sucking, a shiver shot

through her, lodging between her legs. Sissy stopped thinking about

Parker. She stopped thinking about anything. She moaned and

lifted her hips. Bourrée pulled up her cheerleading skirt and slipped

his hand into her panties.

“Oh my God,” said Sissy, sitting up. “We can’t. You’ve got to

stop, Mr. LeBlanc.”

“Bourrée,” he said, stroking her with his fingertips. She tried to

pull his hand away, but he was too strong. He rotated his thumb

under her panties and she couldn’t stop a moan. “You’re gonna

have a real good time, you hear. I told you, the Almighty set this

whole thing up for you to enjoy yourself. So just put yourself in His

hands.”

But it wasn’t the Almighty’s hands that Sissy was concentrating

on when Bourrée opened her up and entered her, pushing her down

into the sand covered with pine needles and tufts of grass, pushing

her into the earth. She wanted to rise and fall with him and tried to

meet him with her hips, but she couldn’t keep up. He was pounding

on her, beating on her. She knew her hair was caked with sand, she

could feel the little twigs and pine needles making welts in her back

and she still never wanted him to stop.

Suddenly, he let out a cry like a wild animal and fell on top of her,

smothering her with his big body. Sissy tried to breathe under his

heavy chest and wondered, is this
it
? Is this what all the fuss is

about? The black-and-gray bitch circled them, sniffing and licking

Bourrée’s face. He knocked the bitch away and pulled out.

Sissy started to get up, to cover herself, disappointed and con-

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fused. But Bourrée stopped her. “I’m not through with you yet, lit-

tle sugar.”

He pushed her back down into the grass and sand and began

kissing and biting her breasts. Leaning on one elbow, he pinched

her nipples until she began to moan. He rubbed her chest, and

when he came to her nipple again, she couldn’t help arching her

hips up toward him. Slowly, he brought his hand down over her

body and into those crevices Sissy had no name for. She twisted and

pushed against his slow hand.

She moaned. She felt like the next flick of his finger would make

her crazy, and she wanted to be driven crazy more than anything

else in the world; at that very moment, he took his hand away. She

arched again, her eyes squeezed tight, trying to find him with her

body.

But he wouldn’t give her what she wanted. He rubbed her stom-

ach and her thighs and played all around the spot until she was

moving with his hand to the left and right, up and down. She

opened her eyes and saw him grin as he watched her dancing to the

rhythms he set. When she was ready to burst, he eased up to a light

tickle. She grabbed for him. He bore down finally, sending deep

shudders through her body. She lay back, panting, but he wouldn’t

let her relax.

She reached for him, kissing him, and felt him playing with her

body until she came again and again. He wouldn’t let her rest until

he
decided it was time.

When he was finished, Sissy knew she’d had
it
. That was defi-

nitely something to carry on about.

“Don’t you ever let some young boy get away without finishing

you off, you hear?” He was caressing her cheek. She saw the tips of

his fingers were stained with her blood. She wasn’t a virgin anymore.

He led her down to the creek and washed her off in the icy water.

She let him do anything he wanted. She kissed the back of his neck

as he leaned over her, loving its weathered creases. She ran her

hand through his black hair and decided it was beautiful. And

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when he held her head in his hands and she looked into those pale

eyes in that dark Cajun face, she knew she’d never meet a more

beautiful man.

Only when he took back his jacket did she feel cold. She hugged

the black-and-gray bitch and watched Bourrée gather up his shot-

gun, ammunition, and game bag. He whistled for the dogs and the

bitch left her for her master.

Sissy stood on the running board and kissed Bourrée’s rough

cheek as the sky darkened and it began to drizzle. He turned and

kissed her, surprising her with his force, and told her to come back.

“I’ll give you another lesson in duck hunting.” Then he switched on

the ignition. The old truck bucked. Sissy had to jump off.

She stayed in the woods until his taillights disappeared. This is

the most important day of my life, she thought as she made her way

up the embankment. “I’m a woman,” she said out loud, testing

how it sounded in the air. “A woman.”

She opened the door of the car and found herself thinking about

Parker. But she hadn’t done anything he hadn’t done, had she? He

had it coming to him. She slid into the car and slammed the door.

Bourrée pulled on his crotch as he bounced over the dirt road.

He’d sure bagged his limit today. He grinned as he thought about

the cute little girl in her cheerleading outfit. Let one of those horny

kids try to satisfy her now. Just let him try to poke that little girl

and run. She’d never forget old Bourrée LeBlanc. As he turned onto

the blacktop and headed into town, he couldn’t remember if she’d

ever told him her first name.

The next day, Bourrée was loading his shotgun when he saw

Sissy in her saddle shoes and plaid skirt walking toward him

through the pine trees. She must have come straight from school.

Left all those young bucks behind. He licked his lips. “Hey, little

girl. I was afraid you was giving me a one-day special.”

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She blushed and said, “It was special to me.” The wind was

blowing her hair around. She brushed it out of her face. “You said

you’d teach me some more about duck hunting. I’ll bet you know

all the ins and outs.”

Bourrée whooped and unbuttoned his plaid hunting jacket.

“Nobody knows the ins and outs better than I do, little girl.”

“That’s what I figured.”

They were standing a couple of feet apart. A red dog was trying

to sniff under her skirt. She pulled it tight around her legs. Bourrée

hated to see any animal sniffing around a woman, especially his

woman. “Come here!” he ordered. But the girl came right along

with the dog. She stepped right up to him, just like one of his dogs.

The blood was pumping through his body now.

He looked around. No car. She must have hoofed it all the way

from town. Just to be with him. He wondered how he’d got so

lucky.

“You think you can teach me how to shoot?” She brushed her

hair away and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

He pulled on the collar of his shirt. “That depends on how bad

you want it.”

“I want it,” she assured him, delighted that Rule Number Five

worked on men as well as boys. All she had to do was toss her

head, look at him out of the corner of her eye. How about that!

Since yesterday, she’d been haunted by him. She didn’t feel

happy, the way she had when Parker gave her his class ring. This

was entirely different. The attraction was dark, but insistent. It was

as if he’d followed her home. Slept with her in her bed. Tied a

golden cord around her most private part and was gently pulling on

it. There hadn’t been a second when she didn’t feel its pressure.

Bourrée carefully laid down the gun and carelessly laid the girl.

The autumn sun was still warm when he unbuttoned her blouse

and pulled down her skirt and pulled up her slip. He spread her

out naked on the sand with its tufts of grass. He’d forgotten the

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pleasures of tight young skin and a willing, indefatigable body.

He’d forgotten, but he remembered fast when she wrapped those

long cheerleader legs around him.

He began picking her up after school. Every day after cheer-

leading practice she’d wait for him in the cemetery. Everyone

thought she was going there to visit her brother’s grave, so they

respected her need to be alone. Sissy felt guilty about using Nor-

man’s memory like that. She knew he wouldn’t have liked it if he’d

ever caught his little sister with a man like Bourrée. Well, he can’t

catch me, she reminded herself as she waited among the dead for

her lover.