Belle and Beau

Marybelle Magnolia Blossom Rousseau was going home.

It hadn't been a decision that she had made lightly as she hadn't been home since she was 17 years old.

Plus --she adored her life in Los Angeles.

She had been a wide-eyed teenager full of youth and promise when she had first stepped off the Greyhound bus in Hollywood for stardom.

She turned her nose contemptuously at the pimps trying to get their new "ho" out of her and made her way to the San Fernando Valley.

Working hard as a waitress and taking acting classes -- she had been discovered.

Now at 25 years old, Belle Rousseau was the hot young thing in Hollywood.

Her pictures were splashed across magazine ads and billboards selling everything from hairspray to lipstick to perfume to couture fashion.

Her movies were popular with people in their 20s and early 30s and Belle was a star.

But she hadn't been home in 8 years and she knew it was time.

She had done her last obligation for her newest movie "Fever" by performing like a circus star from the east coast to the west coast pimping the movie out on all the TV and radio stations.

She needed a little "me" time, she thought.

She settled into her seat in the Greyhound bus for the long ride home. She could have taken her BMW roadster home or even flown first class, but she thought it fitting that she should return home the way she had left.

Besides, she snuggled deep into her new Prada coat, she could always rent a car if she needed one.

Secretly, she dreaded going home. Home was Nowheres-ville USA. It was a tiny backwater town in Louisiana where everyone knew everyone. She was a fourth generation girl and she loathed it.

Everyone knew everyone else's business including when Louanne was out late with Billy -- her father knew about it before she got home.

If Marla was fighting again with her husband Brent --the town knew.

If old Mister Glenn was out at night with the local tramp Sue-ellen -- his wife Mable knew.

It was incestuous.

But it was home.

It was the place where Belle had spent many a night listening to her grandfather talk about World War II.

Where Belle had eaten a thousand stomachs full of fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread and buttermilk.

And though Belle was an L.A. girl now -- she would always been a Southerner at heart.

Back home held her family and her heart. It was in Louisiana that she had first kissed a boy, fell in love, lost her virginity and lost her heart.

The bus bumped into its first of many stops.

She arched and stretched her back and wobbled off the bus. She noticed several men looking at her but she was used to it.

Even if she hadn't been a movie star, Belle was a stunning young woman. She was petite at 5 feet 5 but she was a curvy girl with a plump little booty that made men want to bend her over and luscious breasts that always pressed her t-shirts forward.

Her hair was shoulder length with blonde highlights and her eyes were chocolate brown.

Some critics compared her body to Jessica Simpson and she didn't mind.

Belle dropped her lipstick that she had been reapplying and bent over to pick it up. She heard a quick intake of breath.

Her short skirt had ridden up past her ass cheeks as she had bent over.

She readjusted herself and turned around.

"What are you looking at?" She asked the pimply faced teen and his friend.

"Nothing." He said sullenly.

She got back on the bus but not before she heard them say to one another, "Was that Belle Rousseau?"

"On a Greyhound bus? Yeah right. She has millions. What are you smoking?"

Belle settled into sleep trying hard not to get pissed at the old guy looking at her across the way.

The bus was half full and finally she had had enough.

"Take a picture it will last longer." She told him before she moved away from him.

*******************************

Louisiana was all that she remembered, and her memories were not fond.

"Ugh." She said aloud. "And yuck."

The cool autumn wind swirled around and her nipples were tight and hard underneath the blouse.

She laughed at the thought. In Hollywood, people were paid to keep actresses nipples nice and tight. And these weren't porn actresses either.

Jennifer Lopez had employed just such a person before her controlling new husband forbade it.

She had changed into tight, boot cut jeans with her favorite Jimmy Choo heels and a white angora sweater. She had a yellow scarf tied into her hair and sunglasses. Belle looked every inch the Hollywood star.

She decided to rent a fancy car after all to make the final trek into her hometown.

*****************************

Beau LeClaire watched as she climbed out of the car. She was a small, slender little thing but with curves in all the right places.

He had remembered her as a young girl climbing into the Magnolia trees and swimming in the local pond.

She had worn out a pair of Daisy Duke shorts and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt one summer and had been nothing to look at.

She had had knobby bony knees, skinny stick arms and had been flat as a board. But damn she had filled out, he thought.

If she could wear the childhood clothes now, her ass cheeks would be peeking out from underneath her shorts, her long legs clearly tanned and toned and her luscious breasts would be stretching and filling out the t-shirt.

Though she was dressed perfectly respectable, her tight jeans and sweater left nothing to the imagination.

"Beau, you there?" She asked loudly.

He rubbed his hands on the cloth and came out. "Yes, Miss Belle. I surely am. What can I here do for you, ma'am," he answered, adopting a servile attitude.

"Beau LeClaire. I've known you all my life. Don't talk to me like I'm some Yankee girl." She said.

"Yes, Belle Blossom. We have known each other our whole lives." He used his nickname for her.

Belle nodded in agreement.

"And I reckon I know you better than any of those fancy Hollywood boys." He took a moment to insolently look her body up and down.

"I guess." She said rolling her eyes.

"You guess? Who was it that climbed between those pretty thighs one hot July night and popped your cherry?"

Belle gasped and a blush spread across her cheeks. "You have gotten mighty crude since last we met." She said startled.

"I've learned some new tricks since then, Belle. Want me to teach you?" He moved closer to her.

"No, I certainly do not. I need you to fix my car. Nothing more."

Beau smirked and threw over his shoulder as he advanced toward her car. "Leave the keys here and I'll drive you home."

She threw the car keys at him which he caught deftly.

He grinned as he saw the small sporty Mercedes Benz. "No wonder its broke, Belle darlin'. You got yourself some fancy foreign car."

"So?"

"You need a homemade American car that's sturdy and won't break down at every turn."

He scooted past her. She had settled herself between the cashier and tires so there was little room. He moved passed her and placed his hands on her hips pressing his cock into her ass.

"And you need a Southern boy to ride at night." He whispered into her ear as he passed her.

Belle turned to make a smart comment but he was already gone.

****************************

Belle climbed into Beau's Ford truck as he drove her back home.

"A good picture is comin' Friday night. You want to go?"

Belle laughed. "I'm home for a couple of weeks to see my family and relax. I don't think I need to go to the movies with the local car mechanic."

"Since when did you become so high and mighty, Miss Belle." Beau asked.

"Since I outgrew this little backwater town and its backwater boys." She said not looking at him.

Beau glanced at her sharply and then laughed.

"You need to be taken across my knee and spanked."

Belle grew warm at the thought and bristled.

"Yeah. Sure. Keep your eyes on the road and drive me home Mr. Daisy."

"Stuck up little brat," he mumbled. "Sure I'll drive you home. But let's have a little detour first."

He veered sharply left and drove them to the secluded watering hole where the willow trees protected the little jewel from the hot Southern sun.

He parked and yanked open her door pulling her into his arms.

"You're a little hot under the collar, Miss Belle. Time you cooled off." With that he dumped her fully clothed into the water.

She came up sputtering. "You ass!"

He grinned from ear to ear. "Don't think you're too good or better than anyone else in this town Marybelle Rousseau. You were born in the same general hospital like all of us. You went to the same grade school, junior high and high school like all of us. The only difference is that you left." He fingered a piece of long grass and watched her.

"Yes, Beau. I left. I left to make a better life for myself and meet people who weren't born in the same hospital and went to all the same schools. I left to get away from this place where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone else's business."

She came out of the water dripping wet.

Her jeans looked like they had been painted onto her and clung to her ass and hips like a second skin.

Her shirt was plastered to her body and her nipples looked like twin hard pebbles. Beau swallowed tightly and rummaged in his truck to find his leather jacket.

"Here." He threw it at her. "Come on. It's late. I'll take you home."

She struggled into the jacket and dripping wet climbed into the truck.

Beau sighed as he drove her home.

It had been a dangerous game to play. At first he had heard that she was coming home because their mothers were friends.

But the closer it had gotten to her coming -- he thought he might not even see her.

Then he remembered this tiny town -- and knew it was just a matter of time before he saw her. Then she showed up on his doorstep and all of those old memories came flooding back.

********************************

"Belle! Belle!" He tried to whisper so that no one would hear him -- but enough to wake her up.

She ducked her head out of the window and stared into the old oak tree where he was perched like a bird.

"Beau LeClaire! The rest of the world is sleeping!"

"I need to talk to you."

Belle pursed her lips in a manner that always made Beau want to kiss them. She was a lovely girl. He had already made up his mind. He would have her and no other.

Beau was taller than Belle 6 inches with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He was athletic and fit and good with his hands. And his heart belonged to Belle.

Soon she was coming out of the window wearing a white sundress with sandals. It was a hot July night and the night creatures were alive with their music.

"Come on!"

Beau was 2 years older than her and they had always been together since grade school.

They wandered down the road and into a corn field.

"Belle, my father wants me to go to school and get my degree and then come back and run the auto shop."

"How long will you be gone?" She asked.

"Four, five years."

"I see. And just what am I supposed to do Beau LeClaire while you're off seeing the world."

Beau studied her in the moonlight. She was lovely with her blonde hair and brown eyes. She meant the world to him.

"You wait." He answered her.

"I see."

"Belle Blossom, you're 17. Five years isn't the end of the world. You'll wait for me, and when I come back we'll get married and have all the babies we always talked about."

Belle stood looking at him and then turned away. "I'm tired. I'm going back."

"Belle, no. Please." He caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

"Stop." She said trying to shake his grip.

He turned her to face him. "Belle, I love you. I always have since grade school and I always will. You are the only woman I want."

"Obviously not enough."

"That's not true." He pulled her to him and kissed her softly. "Just wait. Please. It's not so long."

"Please Belle." He pulled her down into the corn field. "I love you."

He kissed her mouth and neck and shoulders and she moaned into his ear.

"I love you too, Beau."

He had made love to her slowly. She had only cried briefly as he spread her slim legs and pressed his hard cock into her tight passage breaking her hymen. The blood had stained her white sun dress. He had gathered her into his arms and rocked her.

"Wait for me Belle." He begged her. "Please."

******************************

Beau glanced over at Belle. She was looking through the passenger window.

She hadn't waited for him.

He had left for college a few weeks later and she had left for Hollywood after that.

She had never written, never explained, never tried to contact him, she had just left.

To this day, it pained him. And he had never been able to forget her.

"Here. You're home." Beau pulled up in front of her house.

"Thanks. Can I give you back your jacket later? I'm still wet and everything."

"Sure. I'll call you when your car is ready."

"Thanks." She said.

"Belle?" He asked her as she was getting out of the car.

"Yes?" She turned back.

He didn't know what to say to her. Everything seemed juvenile. He had so many questions to ask her. Why had she left? Why hadn't she contacted him? And most of all -- why did he still love her? Why did he still ache for her? And did she still love him? But instead he just shook his head.

"Nothing."

She closed the truck door and he watched her walk to the house.