Down at the Twist and Shout Ch. 05

Mélette smiled winsomely, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Why Sugar-Pie, don't you-all like my cookin', honey?" she drawled in a voice sweet as honey and false as a tin nickel. "I slave over hot stove got to be at leas' several minutes to feed yo' ungrateful ass an' this the thanks I get? I should let you surrender! Jes' 'cos you older than me, don' mean you get to go makin' no bahbin (pouting) at me, I still knows how to make you squeal like a hog, jes' you 'member that!"

She glanced over at Justine and winked at her.

"He allus like this this, or he sickenin' for somethin'? I reckon Tante Eulalie spoil him when he petit boug, ain't no other 'splanation; if he allus gonna be like this then you gonna need to keep skillet handy an' dent his big ole flat head once in a while jes' to make him mind his manners!"

Justine grinned widely and leaned over to kiss Johnny on the cheek.

"I wouldn't hit you, baby!" she smiled, then leaned in to stage-whisper in his ear "I've got better ways to make you whimper...Big Boy!"

Johnny choked on the swig of water he was taking, spraying it all over himself while Odélie and Mélette guffawed with laughter. Johnny stared at Justine's impudent raised eyebrow and 'say something, I dare you...' expression, before starting to gather up his stuff, muttering to himself; even in the dim twilight the girls could see the his flushed neck and ears as he avoided their arch looks and amused glances.

"Y'all finished now?" he managed to say, "we got a lot o' travellin' ahead of us, best turn in now; I'll take first watch, Odie, wake you in 'bout three, four hours if nuthin' show up, then you follow, Mel, an' I'll spell you after, OK, honey?"

The girls nodded and started turning in. Justine nudged Johnny instead of climbing into the igloo tent.

"What about me, Johnny-Bear, I want to take my turn too..."

Johnny grinned and quickly kissed her cheek.

"Sure you do, Minou, but you ain't woodcrafty yet; sumthin' come sneakin' up on you ain't no guarantee you gon' see or hear it 'til it too late; yo' turn come soon 'nuff, I promise, jes' soon as you start pickin' up what the gals doin'. Now you-all scoot in that tent an' get cosy, I be in 'fore you know it. Love you, Minou-Minou!"

"Love you too, Big Bear!" grinned Justine, her smile turning into a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Wake me up when you come in, Bear, I wanna talk to you, and maybe work out where I'm gonna lay that skillet if I need to!"

*

Justine had been asleep for what felt like only a few minutes when Johnny sliding into the old-fashioned lightweight cotton bed-roll next to her roused her. She twisted around to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him close, feeling his skin cool against hers, warmed as she was by the cotton bedding. As her hands explored further, she realized he was naked, just as Johnny discovered she was also buck naked.

"This feel real nice!" he whispered, cupping and gently squeezing her warm little buttocks, warming his hands with the sleep-warmth radiating from her.

"Really?" whispered Justine, grinding against him, "how 'bout this?"

It was too much for him; despite their cramped quarters, the male reflex took over, and Justine smiled that sexy, bottom-lip-biting smile of hers as she felt him hardening against her. Johnny stared at her, helpless in the face of that smile, as she continued to grind away, his cock stiffening even further each time she rubbed against him.

"What you doin', Minou, this ain't the time or the place...?" he began, but once again she did that thing with her fingers, clamping his lips shut to shut him up.

"Don't over-think it, Big-Bear, just go with it; trust me..." she murmured, barely on the edge of hearing, before once more grinding her mons against his stiff cock. Johnny responded by rolling onto his back with his arms around her, taking her with him, so now she was on top of him, with his cock sandwiched between them.

"Reckon that what you want, ma petite suce-fleur (my little hummingbird), jes' go quiet, Odie ten feet away, so keep it down!"

Justine grinned minxily and slid her damp pussy up and down his solid erection.

"You want me to keep this down? Why Jean-Bastiènne Deaucette, I only just got it up, for shame!" she teased as he gasped at the feel of her damp heat. Johnny opened his mouth to correct her, but then her lips were on his, and her tongue was fencing with his, and in one smooth motion, she impaled herself on him, his eyes wide as she took him in and clasped him tightly.

"Sacre Dieu..." he managed to gasp, and then he was losing himself in the rhythm as Justine rode him, slipping herself up and down him even as she rhythmically squeezed him, her warm, wet, clasping walls massaging him as she rode him. Johnny kissed her as frantically as she kissed him, their tongues lashing and teeth clashing as they fucked so strenuously, but in almost complete silence, only the occasional gasp or whispered endearment breaking the silence in the little tent as they pumped and heaved.

"Joneeee-e-e-e-e...!" gasped Justine, her orgasm swamping her, and Johnny pulled her head down into the hollow of his shoulder to muffle her gasps as she shuddered and trembled atop him, his own climax so close, so close, finally blazing through him as Justine, in the final throes of her own gigantic climax, once more sank her teeth into his shoulder.

Johnny groaned as his cock lurched, swelled, and convulsed, firing stream after stream of spunk deep into his sister's clasping pussy; the feel of him coming so hard set her off again, another wave of pleasure crashing through her, her entire world shrunk down to the pleasure they were giving each other, to the feel of him clutching her to his chest as his rigid cock pulsed and threshed inside her like a live thing, filling her so completely, his sweat-slicked skin hot and damp as it moved against hers.

Justine finally slumped down, completely spent, her Johnny-Bear the most comfortable bolster and bed she'd ever slept on, and grinned as his big hands once more cupped and squeezed her butt-cheeks, gently massaging them, probably not even aware he was, just enjoying the feel of the two smooth globes as he held his girl tightly. He was still deeply embedded in her, but she could feel him shrinking away, so she gave him a squeeze, just to make him jump.

"Don' do that Minou, you-all know how sens-..." once more he shut up because she was holding his lips shut.

"I know, Big Bear!" she grinned, "I just wanted to be naughty; I know you love me when I'm good, but I like the way you fuck me when I'm bad!"

Johnny grinned as he kissed her and squeezed her bottom, making her gasp when he pulled the two cheeks apart.

"Where you get stuff like that from, heh? Mama was right, she warn me agin an' agin 'bout not havin' no truck with gals like you, I shoulda listened to her!"

Justine pinched his earlobe for that, and grinned at his overdone, 'good ole boy' accent.

"So what kind of girl am I? Do tell, Swamp-Thing," she murmured

Johnny wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

"The kinda girl I want to marry one day, one day real soon. I been thinking, way we are, it's just what Miss Cassie calls a 'Place-Holder', something we come back to and sort out one day down the line. I don't want to be in no place-holder with you, Minou; when this nonsense done an' we in the clear, you an' me gonna make this official; I wanna marry you, make babies, live a good long life, an' put all this behin' us, so I guess what I'm tryna say is: Miz Justine, will you marry me?"

Justine smiled wistfully, her eyes bright.

"Johnny Bear, you've always been my ideal man; you're my best friend, the best man I know, and the only man I've always loved. Yes, of course I'll marry you, we'll fix this mess we're in, and then we'll have the best damned wedding these parts have ever seen!"

Johnny nibbled her ear, and gently squeezed, then patted both of her butt-cheeks.

"Now that settled, you-all need to get offa me, I got to be up an' on lookout in few hours, an' I'm bushed. Sleepytime, Minou!"

Justine chuckled and slid off him, so Johnny spooned her against him with his arm around her waist.

*

Johnny woke with a start, aware that it was full daylight. He cursed softly and slid out of the bedroll as quietly as possible so as to not disturb the sleeping girl next to him. He pulled on his pants and crawled out of the makeshift tent, to see Mélette brewing coffee in the fire, and the smell of frying bacon made his stomach rumble.

"Mellie, Mel!" he whisper-shouted, "Whyn't you wake me, baby-girl? How long you been on lookout?"

Mélette grinned and flipped the bacon in the skillet.

"John-boy, I had me a good eight hours, while you an' Odie took your turns, time I got woke I was fully rested, an' I thought you, Justine, Odie, you-all looked like you needed a good night's sleep, so I let you be; don' worry 'bout me, I'm good an' rested."

Johnny shook his head.

"You still shoulda called me, fair's fair, baby-girl..."

Mélette grinned as she slid the bacon onto a small aluminum plate and dropped some more in the hot grease.

"Husha Johnny, I'm good. Now you-all want some breakfast? There's coffee, an' hard-tack fried in bacon grease coolin' on that rock, it still hot, so go easy. Eat-up boy, you mus' be hungry, night you had!"

Johnny gaped at her knowing grin.

"Close your mouth, boy, you catchin' flies, or what?"

"How...?" he managed, and Mélette gave him a sly grin.

"Odie tole me, an I heard 'nuff my own self; this a small campsite, boy, word git aroun'!"

*

Their trek took the full eight days Johnny had predicted. The pirogues the girls kept at Lake Palourde for their hunting and fishing business were still there, and they wasted no time in loading up and setting off. Justine sat dreamily watching the lake as Johnny poled them across, sticking to the shoreline shallows as they headed for the mouth of the Atchafalaya River. She'd never been more relaxed, this gentle progress so soporific, almost idyllic, while the motion of the flat-bottomed craft lulled her, and almost without thinking she went to trail her hand in the calm water.

"Justy! No!" barked Johnny, startling her out of her semi-trance state. Justine jerked upright, causing the pirogue to wallow. Johnny kept his balance easily, years of using the craft had made handling them almost instinctual with him.

"Don' put your han's in the water, baby-girl; looka there!"

Justine looked where he indicated, seeing a few ripples, but nothing unusual.

"What am I looking for, Johnny-Bear?" she asked, puzzled at his reaction.

Johnny continued to scan the water.

"That there's a big ole bull-gator, been following us since we set out, an' he ain't th' only one; this waterway full a' them things, they thicker'n ticks on a brush-hog in here, an' trailin' your han' in the water jus' askin' for trouble. Keep your han's inboard, honey, han's, feet, everythin'; don' even let your shirt trail in the water, one a them things grab ahold o' your shirt and take it down, you goin' with it, and it gonna be 'adios muchacho', so be careful!"

Justine stared wide-eyed at him, and Johnny tried to hide his grin at the sight of her trying to make herself as small as possible dead-center in the craft, huddling as far from the gunwales as she could get. Justine caught his expression, and smiled winsomely at him.

"You'd save me, wouldn't you, Big Bear?" she simpered, trying to look like a helpless, wide-eyed girly-girl. Johnny wasn't fooled for one second.

"I'd surely try, Minou, but I ain't Tarzan, an' I sure ain't no Crocodile Dundee, an' I rather keep you safe in the boat than try wrassle one o' them damned things, so you be careful, Honey-Chile!"

Once they reached the far shore of Lake Palourde, and beached the pirogues at the small landing-stage there, they transferred to an altogether more substantial river craft, an Apreamare Smeraldo 9 cruiser. Johnny whistled when he saw the sleek river cruiser.

"Damn, baby-girls, where you get boat like this from?"

Mélette smiled at his reaction.

"We got her as a salvage at damage auction; after 'Sandy' finish with her, she all stove in and stuck prow-first under the jetty. Owner got his insurance on her, an' we pick her up for five thousand dollars, keel was clean an' strong, just the sides stove in, an' noncle Lubin, Jean-Noël, an' Pop Richeleaux fix her up an' get her certified again for us. She a sweet handler, fit us four an' gear no problem, there's even a stateroom so you an' Justy git a little privacy. You-all get seasick Justy? Reason I ask, the Bayou Chene channel get kinda choppy this time a year, no proper pilot channel cleared there, so we liable to get a mite shook about, you handle that?"

Justine shook her head.

"I'll be fine, let's just get our gear aboard and get out of here, I don't like this place, there's something wrong here..."

Odélie cocked her head curiously at Justine, her eyebrow raised in query.

"You feelin' it too, hun? Damn, you gettin' good at this. Li'l Jean, I got a bad feelin' too, an' where Pop Richeleaux? He should be right here, where he at? Somethin' ain't right; watch my back, I mo take a look aroun', an' Mellie, you an' Justine get the gear stowed, I think mebbe we need to get outta here real soon..."

Mélette clambered onto the moored boat and stared; the awning was still furled back, and so the small fly-bridge and prow were covered in sticky sap from an overhanging tree, and littered with leaves and wind-blown debris. The same dripping sap had also stained and streaked the forward cowling and windscreen, and coated the custom sport-rod harness rails, superstructure, and brightwork with a sticky layer of tree sap mixed with trapped bugs.

"Odie, what happen here? Pop Richeleaux usually keep it so clean, why he stop?" murmured Mélette.

"I wuz jes' thinkin' same thing, baby; where he gone, an' why? You stay with Justine, an' stay out of sight; Li'l Jean an' me poke aroun' some, somethin' bad wrong here, we need to find out whut; you keep this handy."

She handed Mélette a Beretta 9 mm, and grinned at the girl's questioning look.

"Got it offa that gunnie I shot down to noncle Lubin's place; reckoned he warn't gonna need it, him bein' dead an' all. I stripped an' cleaned it, she good to go; anyone show up ain't me nor Li'l Jean, you-all take no chances, these people mean business, so do we, got that?"

The little blonde nodded grimly, shoving the handgun in her waistband and urging Justine down into the forward compartment and away from prying eyes, while she scanned the surrounding terrain.

Odélie jumped back onto the landing-stage and ported her rifle, jerking her head at Johnny to tell him they were going to look around. She was afraid she was going to find what she was looking for, and sure enough, before they'd gone more than a few yards into the verdant foliage, her nose was assailed by a sickly, rotten smell, the ripe stench of decay and corruption. Johnny had caught it too, and now they also heard the buzzing of flies, lots of flies, clouds of flies.

Johnny pushed through between two Honeysuckle bushes, and there, tied on the ground, was the small, wiry body of a very old man. He'd been shot in the back of the head, and most of his face was missing, but Johnny couldn't help but see how cruelly the plastic ties had bitten into his frail wrists and ankles, the circular burn marks from either a cigarette or cigar dotting his torso, and the huge, ugly bruises on his thin ribcage, the marks of fists and boot-soles clearly visible. He tried to shield Odélie from the sight, but it was too late. She gasped in horror, and spun around, her fist in her mouth to hold back the howl of anguish at the sight of what had been done to a helpless old man, what his attackers had put him through.

Odélie hugged Johnny's arm like a drowning man holds a lifebelt, clinging to him like she never meant to let go, while angry tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Why they do this, Jean-boy, he jes' a harmless ole man, he help anyone ask for it, he do anythin' for anyone, why they got to do him like this? He ain't never hurt no-one his entire life, he jes' work here, help out, clean an' patch-up boats, sell bait, nuthin' to get killed over; all he do is be here an' be helpful, he don' know nuthin 'bout nuthin' an' they do...this to him? I swear Jean-Bastiènne, God is my witness, I find them, I gon' kill them for this, but first I gon' make them bleed an' scream; they gon' pay for whut they done here; no-one need to die like this, not fer nuthin'!"

*

Interlude:

Even as Odie and Johnny were staring aghast at a scene of torture and cowardly murder, a conversation was taking place on a deserted stretch of dusty blacktop about ten miles west of Elida, New Mexico, almost a thousand miles west of them, that would have far-reaching implications for both Johnny and Justine.

*

Gina Machado aka Gina March (and various other aliases) was sitting in a dusty old LeBaron off the side of the road with a map of New Mexico spread open before her, trying to look like she was checking their route, although she already knew where she was going and what she was going to do; Carlo was oblivious, as usual, preferring instead to whine and complain, and she was trying her hardest to sound like the sweet little woman he believed her to be; it was a difficult acting job; her patience with the fat idiot was stretched to breaking point, and she was sick of biting back what she really wanted to say.

"Why are we out here in the middle of nowhere, Gina?" he snivelled, "we could have flown in to Las Vegas, hit the tables, found a place, and we'd be set; why are we here? It's so hot!"

Gina's lip curled (behind his back, through; no sense tipping the fat loser off just yet...) but she now fully understood why Justine had loathed him so; she'd explained a thousand times why they'd had to take such a roundabout route to get where they were headed, but her voice was calm, placating, none of her anger and contempt coloring her words when she spoke, once more going over what should have been engraved in his brain by now.

"I told you, honey; if they're looking for us, the airports are the first place they'll check; those places have cameras everywhere, supposing Justine and her brother have filed charges, do you really want to get picked up now, when we're so close? Just a little longer, baby, I promise..."

Mollified, Carlo subsided; Gina loved him, she was taking care of him, she was looking after his best interests, and all was well in his world. How could he know Gina had her own reasons, some very sinister reasons indeed, for bringing him on this long, meandering trek through the deserted badlands of the sun-baked south-west?

With Carlo settled and unsuspecting, Gina made an excuse to go around to the trunk of the nondescript old beater, and, with the trunk-lid up, hiding her from Carlo's sight, she poked a bobby-pin into the tire valve on the left rear tire, watching the tire settle as it deflated. When it was down enough, she slammed the trunk, and, in a voice dripping with phony concern, called out:

"Honey? We got a flat; come help me find that foot-pump thing an' get it connected so we can at least get into town and get a new tire."

Grumbling at being disturbed, Carlo climbed out of the car and shambled round to the rear to inspect the flat.

"Where's the pump, baby?" he whined, and Gina, pretending to examine the tire, said "I think it's somewhere in back of the trunk, I'm sure I saw one in there."

With much bad grace, Carlo leaned over the lip of the trunk, shoving stuff around ineffectually as he searched for the foot-pump. His constant muttering and grumbling completely drowned out the soft 'snick' as Gina cocked the slide of the wicked little nickel-plated .25 caliber Baby Browning pocket pistol he knew nothing about.