Blue-Dark Bayou

6/9/03 Story Submission from MlleDeLaPlumeBleu (what a ridiculous mouthful }:)

(Note: this story is written somewhat in dialect, and any egregious grammatical offenses are absolutely intended.)

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It was ever so deep in the swelter; the air hung heavy and rippled over the brackish waters. On eves like this one, the day seldom baked off into balmy night. Heat rose up thick from the swamp, and swirled among the cypress roots.

And Marie felt that ol' evil come upon her once again, yes, have mercy, there he was- licking at her loins, that canny demon Lust.

He twisted her thoughts up so she ran hot and bothered, couldn't think of nothing else a-tall, not slipping peaches or skimming cream, nothing- nothing!- but that strange fever and ache.

Oh, it was wanton, no doubt about that.

Even the feel of it- to say nothing of the things that crossed her wicked mind when she was in the grip of it- but did she try to break free? Did she think of the Lord, of salvation, of penitence? No, and that was the wicked of it.

When it come upon her, stole over her like night, she welcomed it. It was a bad secret, and she steeped in it, sweet and dark like blackberries. Like the jam she should be watching close, boiling away atop the Dutch oven. She was in the grip of it, too wrung up to care for that.

But that demon did torment, too.

From the weathered porch, Marie watched her brother Jesse as he made his way home along the bank. He was foreman of a farm crew, and he toiled in earth like the Lord intended- and by virtue of the same, could it then be surprising that it had wrought him every bit a man in divine image?

Marie felt her lips part, and found them oddly dry. Her cotton dress was scant and worn, but it did little to cool her.

Jesse paused by the well, and she could see him better now- how the muscles in his back jumped with life as he hauled on the rope, how the sun adored his blondness, picking out threads and gilding them with its own peculiar alchemy.

He lifted the bucket and drenched himself clean, ducked his head and did it again.

Marie felt that demon stirring again, and she let him, as her fingers found her hair, tousled, tangled, a bramble of briars, the color of coffee grounds. Oh, her hair was dark, strange as that was- dark as her brother's was fair, and in the evening light ever-close to black.

It wanted a brushing, but there was none handy, so she combed through it as best she could. It lay down well enough, in as much as it ever did. She couldn't be caught undone, even by family- no, that would never do.

Here, now, he was almost to the house. Marie ran to get him a cold drink. Still, that fevery-sweet glow persisted, but it was her own bad secret, after all, known only to her…still, she couldn't help thinking it was unwise, somehow, to give herself over to it like she did.

She could push it away, after all, until she was alone- she could go off by herself with her torment- but she didn't, even though, uneasy, she thought it might tempt fate not to do so.

In the back of her mind she had the barest reckoning that if it overcame her- like it sometimes did when it reached its fever pitch- if it overcame her, and the means were given at that moment, it might not matter who or what those means were. Temptation takes all forms, she thought, and bit her lip.

"Lucy? Lucinda-Marie?"

She heard him call out from the porch and dropped her thoughts like a hot rock. He was the only one ever called her that, Lucy, and she didn't altogether like it as a name. She preferred Marie, but Jesse had his own way about things, and there weren't much to say about it.

She came out on the porch, a Mason jar in her hands. The glass was cool to her palms and beaded with moisture.

"Here you are, Jesse- I fixed you a lemonade. You must be fair beat."

She widened her eyes as she said it, and never once thought it was disingenuous, though maybe it was, to put a fine point on it.

Her eyes were light blue, startling against her sunbrowned face, and of course Jesse saw this, of course he did. He saw with eyes that looked much like her own. He was her brother, but he wasn't blind.

A smile crossed his lips.

"Thanks ever, Lucy girl."

He was already dry, was Jesse, the heat being what it was. His hair was like bright flax, pushed back from his brow and curving over into a swirl. Marie noticed strange things in her state- the slightly darker gold of his sideburns, the flush of his mouth.

If that ain't the oddest thing, she thought.

Of course, he was fetching- she knew that.

He was stripped to the waist and she let her eyes roam him boldly.

Jesse paused in the middle of a drink, his arm frozen halfway to his lips. He looked at her strangely.

"Well now," he drawled. "This ain't a sideshow."

Startled, Marie's mouth bloomed into a beautiful smile.

"Why, I didn't mean no harm by it, Jesse- not a-tall."

"Course not," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to say so."

Jesse put the jar to his lips and drank.

Then he smiled.

" G'won, then- get an eyeful. It's only natural."

Marie breathed out, goaded by her demon as it tickled her nether-regions.

"What do you mean by that, Jesse Aaron?"

"Why, you're my sister, aren't you- and sisters aren't like other girls. Look all you want, satisfy that curious nature."

"I ain't so very curious." She said, sullen.

"I reckon you are," he said, grinning. "Curious as any cat."

Marie shrugged.

"Maybe I am."

Jesse laughed.

"Oh, Lord, Lucy- don't go off your feed! It ain't important."

Marie took a deep breath and let it out again. It sounded ragged, ravaged by the lust that consumed her chest, her belly, her…

Jesse smiled, and looked out toward the fenceline.

"You know, I can't help but look at you sometimes- not in the bad way or anything, now- but Lord, you have the charms a man can't help but notice."

Marie looked up, surprised.

"You think I'm pretty?"

"Oh, I'll attest to't…you're dangerous pretty." He paused, then grinned. "But don't go getting all swelled up o'er it."

Marie twisted her dress between her fingers, this way and that.

That ol' evil rose up and turned over.

"You invite that Manda Jane o'er to stay the night while I'm gone, now." Jesse said, setting down the empty Mason jar. "You hear?"

"Yes."

"Or one of those gals." He looked at her appealingly. "It ain't like I don't trust you on your own, but I feel better if you got someone else with you. It's just common sense, you understand."

"I know it, Jesse. I 'spect you won't be gone too long."

"Naw, just tonight. Might even be back afore morning, but I can't say until we get that crop to Kingsburg."

He stood up and she took the empty jar from the porch railing.

"Lock up and let my dogs out, now. Load up the shotgun."

"Well, of course," she said, smiling, bewildered in her depths- she loved Jesse, didn't she? And he now- well, he loved her. Like a brother, like the Lord intended.

Could she see him as a man?

Should she even try?

No, heaven above- she should not. But she did.

All men are equal in the eyes of the Lord, that demon Lust seemed to say as it curved, relentless, through her belly and thighs. She pitched her hips forward ever so slightly beneath her dress, to dispel the ache.

Jesse kissed her cheek and she felt how it burned her, like fire. Surely this was forbidden flesh. And yet, the very touch sent her all a-flutter, dark flutterings they were, stirring in her softer places.

He pulled back, uncertainty writ in the lines of his face.

"That felt right strange, Marie- are you favorable? This heat-"

"I'm jest fine," she said, overwhelmed. "G'won now."

He did, although he looked oddly, and as she watched that old GMC pick-up trundle down the road her legs nearly trembled down into oblivion.

She ran to the pump and hosed herself down with cool spring water, chastising herself for her wickedness, her wantoness- but beneath that, she wondered. How would Jesse feel? Not just to the touch, she knew her brother's touch- but if he touched her as a man.

How his mouth had burned her.

Would the rest of him burn as much? And if it did, now, wouldn't it be delectable and wretchedly wrong- she couldn't resist the thought.

She was jolted out of her trance by a hand at her shoulder, and she fell back, startled, onto the grass.

Manda Jane laughed.

"Why, Lucinda-Marie- it's only me."

Marie got to her feet quickly.

"I was jest cooling off. You caught me unawares."

"You might think to 'spect me, seeing's you asked me to stay o'er."

Her cousin Manda Jane was red-headed and sunny-tempered. She lived on the next homestead, not far as the crow flies, and as such, neither of the girls ever bothered much with formalities. She'd walked over through the woods, before it got too dark for sensible safety, barefoot and unconcerned.

Her eyes were greeny-hazel like sullen water, but ebullient. They weren't as big as Marie's come-hither ones, but they tilted up a little at the corners, kind of dramatic, and her skin had turned a light buttermilk gold from the summer sun. Her lips were bee-stung.

She wore a pale rose-pink nightdress that skimmed her knees, and carried her things in a bundle-roll.

"Look what I done found on the way!" she exclaimed, in a half-whisper, and pulled aside the cloth of her bundle.

"Apples- look here."

"Where'd you come by those? They're right crimson- big too."

Manda Jane shrugged, gave a little smile.

"Conjure woman's garden."

"Conjure woman?"

"Sure 'nuff."

"Thank you all the same," Marie said, feeling better now that Manda Jane was there. "I don't much like red apples."

"Suit yourself, then. More for me."

Manda Jane stuck out her tongue and took a bite.

Marie smiled, sly.

"Ain't you worried Conjure Woman put a curse on them apples? She don't take much to people stealing her things."

Manda Jane waved it off.

"Hah. She don't take much to people a-tall."

There was no denying that, so Marie didn't think anymore on't. Conjure woman had a wicked streak a mile long.

Inside the farmhouse Marie bolted the door and locked up all the windows. Manda Jane sat in the rocker chair, reading a movie magazine.

"Robert Mitchum," she said. "I don't much think I'd like him."

"Don't you? What, ain't he fine enough for the likes of you?"

Manda Jane rolled her eyes round like billiards.

"I reckon he just ain't my kind."

She took another bite of the apple and licked her lips, slowly, thoughtful.

"I reckon…my kind is like…oh, James Cagney or Peter Graves, maybe. Damn, this is a good apple- you really ought t'eat the other one, Lucy-Marie."

The grandfather clocked chimed ten o' clock.

"Let's go upstairs," said Marie, "I want to brush my hair. It's fearsome tangled."

Manda looked up, smiled.

"Ok," she said, after a moment. Then she brightened. "Sure, now- let's go upstairs. It's near bed-time anyways."

The staircase was steep and straight, and one had best hold tight to the banister in any case. The night hadn't done much to cool the earth, and even the shadows of the house felt hot and static.

"That brother of yours, now- that Jesse- he could be a movie star." Manda Jane said, behind her.

"You reckon?" Marie asked, tickled by the thought.

"Sure's you're born."

She had almost forgotten the terrible wicked wantoness of the early evening, and now once again she could think of Jesse without feeling that wretched pulling, aching need- that inhuman lust.

That proves the ultimate triumph of the righteous, she thought, pleased. The temptation of aberrant flesh had been removed, and her soul had been purged of demonized lust.

She did not forget, however, that it did not purge her of that most egregious sin- that she enjoyed that lust. Didn't she already miss it, just the littlest bit?

She sighed as she pulled the brush through her thick, dark hair. She could not be redeemed- she had a wicked heart, she wasn't about to change that- but at least she could try to avoid sin whenever possible.

She brushed until her hair fell in a tousled cloud of smooth deep brown, and peered into the looking glass on her vanity. It framed her face most fetchingly, when she cared enough to tend it.

Manda Jane lolled on her four-poster, carelessly flipping pages.

She smiled all a sudden, when her eyes fell on Marie.

"Jesse might be pretty as an actor, but you're so sun-brown, you look like a movie gypsy. You know, when they take a movie star and paint her up dark, and her blue eyes show up like a sore thumb? It's awful pretty even if it's strange." She offered, slowly.

She had finished the apple and was licking the core, as if she couldn't quite put it down.

"You're the prettiest, I reckon," Marie said, with a smile. "Look at all those red-headed movie stars, like that Rita Hayworth. Your hair's real pretty- so thick. You want I should brush it?"

"Why, sure," declared Manda Jane, setting herself upright, lickety-split, and Marie sat behind her on the bed, pulling the horsehair brush through her deep madrona locks. Manda Jane, meanwhile, continued to lick dreamily at that apple core.

"I cain't help myself," she exclaimed. "It's the best ever, I swear on my mama's grave- notwithstanding she ain't dead yet."

Marie giggled.

Manda Jane paused mid-lick as if remembering something, and looked up, quizzical.

"What was it took your parents, Marie- I don't recall. Was it spotted fever?"

"Yes'm," said Marie. "Took 'em both when I was still a lap child of nine. Jesse was fifteen, and he took up for both of 'em. It weren't like we were all alone- we had aunts and uncles and cousins galore, but he ran the house. Now he's twenty-five, I guess."

"A man," agreed Manda Jane, in an odd voice.

"Are you sweet on him?" demanded Marie, laughing and poking her in the middle back. "Fess up, Manda Jane."

Manda Jane finally tossed that apple core out the open window with a satisfied sigh.

"Well," she drawled. "How do you mean?"

"You aim to be his girl?"

"No," Manda Jane said, blithely. "But I reckon I wouldn't mind too much if he wanted to fuck me."

Marie's mouth opened at that. Something about Manda Jane had changed, right suddenly, and she didn't know what to make of it. The brush dangled, forlorn, from her fingers.

"Aw, now, Lucy-" cooed Manda Jane, turning around. "Don't stop- you ain't shocked, are you now? Are you…Lucy-Marie?"

"No," said Marie, without thinking.

Manda Jane stood up and shook out her hair. It fell past her shoulders in a robin-red sweep, full and freshly brushed. Marie stared, watching her face, her tilted eyes closed, as she circled her head, her hair moving over her shoulders, soft.

Her face was one of obvious pleasure, at the sensations, at something, and Marie felt uneasy. Manda Jane's slightly parted lips showed the barest edge of her white teeth, just pressing into her bottom lip in a smile that was decidedly salacious.

Marie stood up and set the brush down on the vanity, giving it an absent pat for good measure.

"You'd lay out for Jesse, then?" she said, hesitant. "Your own cousin?"

Manda Jane opened her eyes.

"Don't let's talk about him, Lucy-Marie."

"Maybe we should go to bed," said Marie, utterly perplexed.

It was almost like it wasn't Manda Jane at all. But it was. Just…different. She couldn't figure it.

Marie turned out the light, but the big hunter's moon outside still illuminated the room plenty good enough. She could still see Manda Jane, clear as day, gazing at her, an unknown look in her greeny-gold cat's eyes.

Manda Jane smiled.

"How 'bout you, Lucy-Marie?"

She began to come toward Marie, and Marie was bewildered for a moment as Manda Jane drew up close to her. She could feel Manda Jane's presence, so near her own, and it was overpowering, suddenly, and still she didn't move away.

"Would you lay out for your cousin, Lucy-Marie? Would you, now?"

Manda Jane put her hands on Marie's hips, and a strange new riffle shook Marie's ocean.

What was happening to her? What did had happened to Manda Jane, and what were her intentions?

"All a sudden I need it e'er so bad," purred Manda Jane, inches from her lips. "Pretty, pretty please with honey, Lucy, Lucy-Marie-"

Marie looked at her face and was struck by what she saw. Surely it was that same vice of lust that gazed back at her from Manda's eyes and parted lips.

All a sudden, Manda Jane leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth, and she felt lust rocket all through her at that touch. Against her will, her own lips parted against Manda's beestung ones, and Manda hungrily deepened the kiss, pushing her tongue inside, gentle but relentless, until she gained access.

Their mouths broke apart for breath and Marie reeled, disbelieving.

It can't be, she thought. She was entranced by the softness of Manda Jane, and enticed by her touch. Could it be like that, for a woman, with a woman?

"Lucinda- oh-" purred Manda, gently pulling her forward against her own hips. Then she kissed her again, and this time Marie kissed her back, if dazedly.

Manda Jane's eyes were feverish wild.

"It's so wretched hot," she breathed. "Let me take off your nightie."

Marie could only nod, stricken with shame and desire and fear and the promise of pleasure, the likes of which she'd only dreamt of in lustful reveries.

Manda Jane wasted no time in pulling off her pale blue babydoll. She let out a mewling moan at the sight of Marie's breasts, round and full, and lifted her own nightdress over her head.

Marie had seen her cousin naked before, it was no surprise, but she couldn't account for the change in her reaction. She ached for that body, now, wanted it against her own, wanted to let all Manda Jane's wickedness spill out onto her flesh.

Manda Jane's breasts were slightly bigger than hers, and milk-and-honey white with small, taut rose-colored areolas. Her waist was narrow beside her round, milk-fed hips. But Marie could hardly even bear to look as Manda Jane took her own breasts in her hands and caressed them rapturously. Fire spread all through her, and she let Manda Jane claim her mouth once more, as her hand slipped lower, to cup Marie's pussy.

Marie gasped against Manda's mouth, and the redhead drove her mouth deeper and harder, pressing against her, breast to breast.

Manda Jane opened her full lips in a low moan.

"Oh, Lucy-marie- Let me put my tongue to your lips- lick inside you."

Marie's eyes widened, unsure what she meant. Hadn't they already kissed? She wanted more- so she reached for Manda Jane, but she slipped down Marie's body until she was on her knees on the hook rug. Her nipple grazed Marie's body on the descent, and Marie trembled.

Marie looked down at her cousin from the neighboring farm, and saw her wanton, green-eyed gaze, just before she plunged forward, spreading Marie's thighs with her hands, her tongue stabbing right into Marie's unguarded pussy.

Marie threw her head back in the shock of pleasure and cried out, gutturally, horrified that anything could feel so good, and that the pleasure came at the point of another girl's tongue.

Manda Jane purred.

With that she fell to once more, and her warm, firm tongue once again penetrated Marie's folds, ruthless and seeking, as Marie moaned and fell back against the wall, her weak legs barely holding her.

Manda Jane dragged her tongue up the length of her cunt, bathing it in steady, maddening pressure as Marie's knees buckled, and she wondered dimly if her legs were holding her at all, or if it was merely Manda's unyielding tongue that pinned her up against the wall.

Marie's gasps were choked cries, broken off by new surges of sensation with each stroke. Now her cousin was licking fiercely, her hips moving in time, and Marie looked down at the roundness of her ass, the hourglass nip of her waist, and felt a tremor take her, a warning.