Page 31 of Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass

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

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

She laughed. “Me, a present?”

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

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

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

“Shhh. That sounds sacrilegious.”

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

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

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

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

Fortunately St. Jude remained silent. At the moment.

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

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

Chapter 6

Begin the Beguine…

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

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

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

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

Enough said. Everything was copacetic.

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

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

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

“Do you want me to wake your aunt?”

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

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

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

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

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