Hurricane Warning in the Big EasybyNigel Debonnaire©
I'm the luckiest guy in the world, or at least the luckiest guy I know. Just four years ago, I was an ordinary middle management guy in his middle 50s treading water: who I worked for doesn't matter. It wasn't bad, it wasn't killing me, but it wasn't a lot of fun. Had to put in more than forty hours a week since I was on salary, and my health care had so many restrictions I wondered whether I could get anything I developed or caught treated, but I knew a lot of guys worse off than me. I never married: had to take care of my folks until they passed and afterward had to work so many odd hours I never got out and had a life.
Then I got lucky: I won the lottery. Yeah, I know the odds were against me, and I never expected those 5 lotto tickets I bought every week would ever amount to much, but it happens and one great night it was me. I did everything carefully, kept my lifestyle as it was for a couple of years until the bank account got built up, made some good cautious investments to set me up for life, used some play money to earn a little more on the markets, and researched the hell out of my options. Of course, I wrote my employer a go-fuck-yourself-to-hell-and-stay-there resignation letter right away, and in a few years I'll have enough stock in the company to fire all the assholes I used to work for.
When I felt comfortable, I sold out and moved to New Orleans. Always wanted an apartment in the French Quarter, and I got a nice one with three bedrooms, a skylight and a balcony. I love the nice people in the South, and the parties down below all night don't bother me. Everybody up and down the block is my friend, as are the cops, and anytime I want to party, all I have to do is open my door.
It didn't surprise me when the Weather Channel wanted to use my place when a hurricane approached the Crescent City. I've got such a sweet location and the view from my balcony is fantastic; can't remember which friend gave them my name and address. My spare rooms were empty when the storm approached, and I had a lot of space available. Al Roker and Jim Cantore used my place as their base, and we couldn't have had a better time. Fantastic guys both of them, a little crazy, and I had a great time drinking hurricanes with them and their crew when the cameras were off. When Hurricane Roxanne was heading our way, I was looking forward to hanging with them again, and made preparations for their return.
Just before noon there was a knock at my door. Everything was ready when I opened the door with a huge grin: "Hi guys, welcome back!"
Instead of my buddies, a tall, lanky woman in her 30s was standing in the door, wearing a Marlins baseball cap, LLBean windbreaker, shorts and sneakers. Her dimpled smile above her dark brown eyes bowled me over: "Hi, I'm Stephanie Abrams and this is Bill McCrary and Barney Shields. Are you Ernie Davidson?"
"Yeah. Ah. Er. You aren't who I was expecting."
"Sorry about that, What is that fantastic smell? Oh, we trade off the remote work, different crew every time: Jim's in Jamaica and Al's back in New York."
I shook my head to clear it and backed away from the door. "All right, I guess you'll do. Come on in, I've got some coffee made and some beignets on the table. Working on some gumbo for later." I pointed down the hallway: "The rooms are down there, two suites with a bathroom for each. Locks on the doors. My bedroom's at the other end of the apartment. If you need more room I can unlock the studio downstairs; it's got a bed if you'd rather sleep down there."
"A studio? An artist's studio?"
"Yeah. I'll show it to you later if you want."
"My God, I think I'm in love. C'mon in guys." She came in through the door, and headed down the hallway with two medium sized bags in search of her room. After she returned from the one overlooking the street, she had taken off her windbreaker to reveal her wonderful form, her torso clad in an ample Florida State sweatshirt. The guys came in behind her, laden with gear and were just getting down the hallway after she returned. "We've got till, , ,what time zone are we in?"
"4:00 local time to do the first remote. We'll do them on the balcony tonight; I'm tired of people crawling all over me when I'm doing a live shot. Last time I was here some idiot shouted 'show us your tits' as we were doing a live spot on Bourbon Street. Tomorrow morning is soon enough to get soaked when we do Wake Up With Al."
The guys bustled in, leaving a video camera and boom mic in the living room and taking their stuff to one of the other free rooms. Stephanie sat and put her feet up on a chair, giving me a gorgeous view of her long, athletic legs. She grabbed a beignet from the basket and took a bite: "They're still warm. Did they just get here?"
"No, I got them earlier this morning. I've got a hot pad underneath to keep them perfect: got the idea from Alton Brown."
"Great idea. I'd love a cup of coffee."
"Done." I poured her a cup in the kitchen and brought it back. "Cream and sugar?"
"No, thanks. I usually drink it black, unless it's late or a weekend, when I put a little Bailey's Irish Cream in it."
"That can be arranged."
"I think I'm in love. How long have to lived in New Orleans?"
"I'm a newcomer here, just been here two years. Grew up in the Midwest, flew a desk until I won the lottery."
"It happens. Almost enough to make me believe in a good and loving God. The people who live here year round are wonderful, and I have a little place on the bayou when I want to get away from the city. I'm set."
"Sounds wonderful. I've got an apartment, but it's very ordinary. Where'd you get all the art work?"
"Bought a few pieces, like the Madonna from Italy in the corner. The abstract stuff I did myself."
"Yeah, it's been a hobby of mine since I was in school Would have become an artist if I didn't have to support my folks all those years."
Bill came into the room and talked to Stephanie: "Barney and I are going to check out the street. We've been here before, but want to check out this block up close. It's gonna get strange once the winds start blowin' "
"Great, Bill. I'll take a nap in a minute and be ready for the first remote. You been in touch with Atlanta?"
"Yeah, they're set and we're set. Connection's good here, just like Cantore said." Barney came through without looking at us and tapped Bill on the shoulder as he passed. "Later, Steph."
"Bye, guys." They left without a backward glance or another word.
I shook my head. "Strange guys."
She shrugged her shoulders. "They're all right. Good at what they do, the best, and guys in their business who're that good don't need social graces. They'll probably check out the bars while they're out; I think the places they like are down the street a ways."
The area she mentioned was were the gay bars were. "Whatever. You got everything you need?"
She finished a beignet and took another with a wink and a huge smile on her face. I moved to check my e-mail and look at the forecast track of the storm
They set up later that afternoon and their spots went without a hitch, finishing around 9:00PM my time. They would be on the air more as the storm got closer, unless Roxanne's track took her to Texas. If that happened, my buddy Jim was going to meet it on the coast and do most of the spots from there while Stephanie updated things from the Big Easy. It was looking like a wide storm, so we were due for some wind and rain, at least.
After they were done, the guys evaporated once everything was broken down and put away for the night. Stephanie looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. "Did you say something about your studio, and Bailey's in coffee?"
"Both coming up. Did you like the gumbo?"
"Best I've ever had; the boys loved it, too. Where did you get the recipe?"
"Secret. From a friend down the street. You won't find it at a restaurant."
"They'd make a fortune on that stuff. Let's go downstairs."
I took her to the studio I used at ground level. There was a huge workroom and a small exhibition area next to the street. The background bedlam was muted: a lot of folks were getting ready for the worst. My windows faced away from the wind, so I wasn't worried, much. Didn't have many windows to worry about: I could board them up in 15 minutes and I had the supplies on hand. She was impressed by the projects I was working on, particularly some special molds. "This looks like a female torso."
"Right on the first guess."
"How'd you do it?"
"I make a cast from the body, the stuff sets up pretty quickly. I use the mold to make the replica."
"I notice a lot of these have initials in them."
"Yeah, they're the initials of the subjects."
"MS, CR, HC, ML, SJ, JP, KR, KG. Who are these people?"
"Can't tell you. I like to do famous women, but I sign a contract that says I can never disclose the names. All I can give are initials."
"Who's done it?"
I gave her a knowing look. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Or my ass would be in jail the rest of my life. Some famous people here: actresses, politicians, models. None of them do nude work, ever, for anybody else."
"Oh yes. You'd be surprised."
"Hmm." She appreciated the works I had in the small gallery up front, a variety of torsos in all sizes with several fetching color schemes. A couple came in a looked around for a few minutes: they didn't recognize Stephanie and were disappointed none of the stuff was for sale. It was getting late, so she went up to bed and I visited a couple of my usual hangouts before I turned in. The scene was subdued, and nobody wanted beads.
They were going to rise before dawn, and I got up to fix them some coffee, eggs and bacon, sending down the street for another round of beignets. Hurricane Roxanne was starting to blow in with a few raindrops, but our street was still rather quiet. I was treated to watching Stephanie do some stretches, pushups and sit ups as she made do without a trip to a gym. My God, what a body! The storm was due to hit its peak well after dark, but the day was scuzzy. The eye was going to hit the Texas/Louisiana border, so Jim Cantore went to Port Arthur, Texas and did most of the face time with Stephanie providing info on New Orleans. Roxanne strengthened over the past couple of days and we were going to get hit hard although we were going to miss the hurricane force winds. But it danced just offshore more of the day, so they were busy.
Around dusk, Stephanie got the word to shut down for the day. Jim Cantore was going to pull an all nighter on the air in the crap. Bill and Barney broke everything down in record time and headed out the door, muttering something about beating the storm. Stephanie accepted coffee and liqueur and the look in her brown eyes gave me hope. Her light brown hair was a mess from the day in the weather, but she darted back to her suite to towel off and change.
The storm approached, and Stephanie was lounging on my couch in a huge bathrobe I've loaned her. The coffee and Bailey's were helping drive away the chill; she was soaked after doing remotes on my balcony in the weather. I'd drawn her a hot bath, and she sipped her steaming mug while watching the radar. "It's going to get worse in a few minutes, winds up around 60 mph and driving rain. Isn't it fun?"
"Yeah, I guess. Never been through a hurricane till I moved here."
"I grew up in south Florida, saw Andrew come through when I was a girl. These big storms always fascinate me." I was fascinated by her lean form under her robe, and the wonderful, full breasts now barely hidden under the fabric. "When I was a teenager, I used to stand outside in the big storms."
"Really? Wasn't that dangerous?"
She giggled and held out her mug for a refill. "Oh yes, absolutely," she said while I fetched the coffee and the bottle. "We all think we're indestructible when we're kids, don't we? When I was a senior in High School, I stood outside while the worst went over, letting the rain lash my body. I'd scream defiance and dare the thunder to do its worst."
"Bet it soaked you pretty badly."
"The first time," she giggled again, accepting her refill, "My mom chewed my ass out royally. Then I started wearing my swimsuit, no problem. When I was at Gainesville, I went way down to a beach on the Gulf and stood out naked one night during a tropical storm."
"Wow, that's crazy!" My manhood was interested in that picture. "Didn't it hurt?"
"Hell, I didn't care. I was young and stupid. Loved the rain pelting on my skin. Made me so horny."
The wind picked up outside and some rain clattered on the skylight. I had it boarded up, but left a door to the balcony free for the crew. "Where's the storm coming tonight."
She punched a couple of buttons and took another sip. "The eyewall's a long ways west of here. Don't envy Jim tonight, been doing enough of those remotes myself and it's no fun with a like microphone in your hand. It'll be nasty enough here." Her eyes batted at me, and I smiled in response.
"I bet if you stood outside now, the wind would blow you right off the balcony."
On cue, the wind howled a little bit and a pennant across the street flapped hard. "Yeah, probably. Unless I was tied down, I guess." The look in her eyes was strange: they were shining and hungry.
"I think I've got something that may interest you." Going back to the bedroom, I fetched a set of handcuffs I kept back there. Given the nature of the folks who wander into my place on occasion, I need them, as well as the Glock I usually keep in the small of my back under my shirt. "Think these would keep you steady?"
"Wow, Ernie, didn't know you had it in you. Most men are intimidated by me, since I'm a little bit of a celebrity and a fitness nut. So, ya got something in mind?"
Figuring it was time to go big or go home, I walked over and gave her a long deep kiss on the lips. After an initial surprise, she returned it and her tongue started dancing with mine. Standing up, her body pressed into me; I grabbed her fantastic ass and kneaded it, and she returned the favor. A flash of lightening and boom of thunder sounded in the distance, and I broke the kiss as the power went off. "There's nobody on the street," I whispered hoarsely. "It's dark, and nobody's at their windows. How about I handcuff you to the rail and fuck you from behind?"
I must have been drunk and out of my mind to make such a blatant proposal, and I expected her to slap my face in disgust. Stephanie didn't: she immediately peeled off her robe and stripped off her t-shirt and panties. A quick gesture and her bra was on the floor as well, her delicious boobs floated free of their prison. I had to move quick to stay with her as she darted through the door and was at the end of the balcony facing the storm, screaming at it full voice.
I came up behind her and put the handcuffs through the far railing; a quick moment and her hands were secured. I gave her another full French kiss before I moved around behind her. A couple of slaps to her wet ass and her legs parted, inviting me in.
Now I'm not well endowed, my dick is below average. My hand went between her legs first, finding her slit and massaging her pussy lips. She bucked back against me, holding the rail with both hands. My pecker was at full staff rather quickly, and I opened my fly to release it. "Fuck me, Ernie, fuck me. Take me now," she screamed.
It was better than I could have imagined. Her thigh muscles were astoundingly strong, making her talent the most amazing I've known. She screamed as we bucked together and the rain lashed her skin. It was tough keeping my focus with 60 mph wind driven rain in my face, but my cock felt so amazing in her cunt I couldn't stop. I put my hands around her to hand on, feeling her breasts flop against them. "Pinch my nipples, pinch my nipples and I'll cum," she screamed and I did so. It was like I was screwing a lightening rod. I pounded her hard through that orgasm and into another two minutes later. The wind was starting to die down, and from a couple of lights that flicked on below, I was afraid we were going to draw attention from below very soon. I pulled out and unlocked her, maneuvering her quickly back into the apartment where I pushed her onto my couch and pulled the drapes.
Her face was unfocused for a few moments as she lay there naked. I noticed she had a perfect tan without lines from top to bottom. Her hair was a mess, and she was quivering. After a minutes, she whispered: "Did you cum?"
"Nope, not quite."
"Gotta fix that. Wow, that was so wonderful. Come here." I drew close and she grabbed my cock, stroking it. Her eyes locked into mine, and she licked her broad lips. I thought I was going to lose it before I could get my dick in that luscious mouth, but she was quick and within a minute I was pulsing down her throat. She kept at it until I was drained, holding my semen in her mouth for several moments before taking a sip of lukewarm coffee and Bailey's.
I warmed up the bath and we soaked for a long time, she resting in my arms, to warm up with the racket safe outside. After carrying her to her room, we had a night to remember, carrying on until the storm faded around dawn. I got back to my room just before the guys returned.
Oh, and the next time she's on vacation, she's coming here for me to do a casting of her body. I can hardly wait; I have so many ideas.