Louisiana Heat Ch. 01byshandal©
This is a ten chapter romantic Crime thriller with consenting erotic and romantic sex, male on male violence and a lot of exciting cliff hangers.
As is usual in my stories there are a large selection of colourful characters and not all of the people in my stories have happy endings.
You have been warned -- so if you like the kind of story that combines sex, violence, complicated and interweaving story lines, and that you like to sit back each day and read a new chapter -- read on.
Louisiana -- A prison chain gang 1934
The sun beat down hot and heavy on Jakes naked back, his perspiration glistening skin tight across his broad shoulders where it was red from the burn of the sun and the long red stripes from the guard's whip where it had struck him only ten minutes ago after he had stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes.
Rivulets of salty sweat ran down his neck from his thick sweat soaked black hair, stinging the raw flesh, and his aching muscles bulged in his long strong arms and chest as he raised the heavy iron sledge hammer up before bringing it down onto the large rock in front of him, breaking it into fragments, some of which flew up, hitting him on his unprotected naked torso, making small flesh wounds that dribbled blood to mingle with the stinging sweat.
It had been a long eighteen months since he had been railroaded, framed by the local sheriff, found guilty by a crooked Judge, and sent here to this hell-hole to work on the chain gang breaking rocks and digging dirt. He was working laying down the new road that was to run through the Parish to make travel from one end of this godforsaken area and the ramshackle town that sat twenty miles to the east, to where the new train station was being built in the large main town, fifty miles to the south, circuiting the swampy and boggy bayou that was full of rich vegetation, wild animals and slow moving water.
Raising up the hammer above his head, he brought it down hard, smashing one of the larger fragments into even smaller ones as he saw out of the corner of his eye the shackled legs of one of the other five men in his chain shuffle closer, so the man could bend and start to pick up and clear the scattered rocks that Jake was breaking, and put them in the back of the cart waiting ready to be hauled back to the compound where it was then unloaded.
Growling out of the side of his mouth the old man, without looking up at Jake, hissed, "You alright kid....judging from the position of the sun its almost time to go back."
Just grunting Jake shuffled forward and to the side a step and raised the heavy implement high up again and then down starting on the next large boulder, just as one of the two armed guards walked passed him, rifle resting in his arms, the three thronged whip that before had cracked down upon his flesh dangling from the fat mans hands, the leather strips swinging with each step the vicious guard took past him, moving through the stifling heat up to where the other men were working.
An hour later, joined up to the other men by the long chain that attached to the pair of shackles that encircled and rubbed at the skin of his ankles Jake shuffled in line back to the compound. Flexing his aching muscles and holding the stiff prison jacket that matched his stiff worn trousers in his right hand he started the long walk back, a hand that was now rough and hard from the manual work, but only two years before had been soft from his work as an accountant in a town close to the Atachafalaya River.
There was a burning hate in his heart, as tangible as the burnt skin that covered his sunburnt and red welted back.
His every waking hour was spent planning and plotting how to escape this hell. How he could escape and reap revenge on the very people who had put him here in the prison chain gang for the next seven years.
Seven more years of hard manual labor, breaking rocks, digging soil and being a slave for the county, building the very road that he had been about to expose as part of the web of corruption he had found, along with the corruption concerning the building of the Levees in the Atachafalaya and the Teche Rivers near the Bayou by the Mayor, sheriff and business men who railroaded him to keep him quiet.
The sour smell of sweat rose up at him from the man in front on the chain as the six pitiful men shuffled behind the cart full of rocks pulled by the skinny old horse back to the compound, the two guards sat laughing up on the cart as it made its slow way back, guns balanced across their laps. Using the jacket in his hand Jake wiped at his damp face, neck and chest and squinted up at the dying sun above as it started to dip down behind the trees. Today had been hot, in the high 90's, but with the falling of the sun the temperature wouldn't lower much and the heat trapped in the closed in dormitory where thirty men slept, chained to their beds, would be much higher, the stink of the men assaulting his nostrils and making sleep on the hard bed difficult.
After a long forty five minute walk Jake could see the compound, with its high wooden walls, the guard towers and the sharp wire that ran around the top coming up in front of him. Moving through the big heavy doors they entered the large area, where the huts, prisoners and the men that guarded them lived.....and in many cases died.
Standing quietly he waited until a guard unlocked him from the chain that joined the six men, and then shuffled off to the big barrel full of water to wait his turn at scooping up in the dented metal scoop a long drink, and then to sluice another scoopful over his head and shoulders.
"Hurr'up boy....." The fat guard called Broussard shouted out to him, "Get tu ass over to t't cart and start unloadin' 'hem rocks."
The sound of the mans deep Cajun accent made Jake stand still, the metal scoop raised up over his head, and his hand tightened around the long handle, his knuckles gripping it turning white. "Yes boss." He answered in his deep quiet voice before lowering his arm and giving the ladle to the next in line and making his way over to the back of the cart.
At six foot two, with dark green eyes that reflected his anger, and a well muscled body and broad shoulders that the hard work of the last year and a half had honed, made other men step back out of his way. Broussard hefted his fat carcass up onto a crate that sat nearby and watched as Jake unloaded the rocks and threw them onto the large growing pile on the dirt ground next to the cart. "Thin' tu is'n a cut above us, don' you boy?...got high and mighty ways......educated!........you ain't nothing but dirt......pure dirt.....not even worth nothin'.....not even worth as much as those rocks tu is totin'......"
Picking up a rock from the cart and putting it on the pile Jake ignored the taunts. The guard was an ignorant prick. Fat, sweaty and red faced, with hanging jowls that quivered and tufts of black greasy hair that poked out from the brim of his hat, Broussard enjoyed his power over the men and wielded it with a heavy whip that came down regularly across the backs of the men under his charge. Jake knew to react would mean a night in the iron box, no food, no water and being bitten to death by the insects that he wouldn't be able to slap at by manacled hands.
He had learnt his lesson the hard way.......just the once was enough to teach him to bite his tongue and ignore the taunts.
After a while Broussard lost interest in taunting him and moved on over to where other men either stood or sat around in the compound, pure exhaustion from the days work, the oppressive heat, humidity, and from being broken by a cruel and heartless system made any small talk almost non existent between them.
Finding old man Granger, his fine white hair sticking to his shiny bald head flopped out on the ground resting, Broussard kicked him with his foot, "Get up ol' man.....go help Bailey unload t't cart." And he gave the old man another kick before poking him with the rifle. "Unless tu wanna spend the night in t't box?"
Granger pushed his body up and walked over to Jake. "Mean old bastard that Broussard.....can't be getting any from that fat old wife of his back in town."
Jake smiled at the old man, not saying a word and together they cleared the rocks from the back of the cart as the other men moved slowly out of the sun to settle in the shade trying to keep away from the worst of the heat, waiting to be called for supper.
Eventually the cart was cleared and another convict who had earlier unhooked the horse and led it away came over with the scoop full of water and offered it to Jake and the old man. Nodding towards the obviously exhausted and on his last legs Granger, Jake indicated to let him drink first and watched as the old man swayed as he drank in front of him. The convict that had brought the water over murmured, "He aint going to last much longer at this rate......shouldn't even be here.....should be in the main prison at Lafayette....sixty-one, he's too old to be doing hard labor."
Taking the ladle from Granger Jake thirstily drank the remaining dregs, his dry mouth and throat full of rock dust and then said, "The bastards are trying to break him.......rumor has it he was part of the gang that stole that payroll from the train on its way to the main jail.....heard he was the inside man on the train.....they aren't going to forgive him any time soon......"
Granger looked up at Jake, a small smile on his face, "Maybe I was and maybe I weren't.......but the fuckers will never know if the money's still hid or not.....and that's why they ain't going to kill me....they think I know....but I ain't telling them. Not now....not ever...whatever they do to me."
"You mad old man......." But what ever the other convict was about to say was interrupted by the clanging of the meal gong and the three men shuffled off to join the line to get their supper.
Scooping up the last of the red beans and rice from the tin plate and gulping down the tepid water in his mug, Jake leant forward where he sat on the long wooden table, his arms resting on the scarred wood. Darkness had fallen and the sweet smell of Magnolia drifted over from outside of the compound, and the noises of the night started to buzz in the air as the insects and animals went about their business, calling out warnings to each other, or trying to attract the opposite sex to mate with and make more insects and animals in the everlasting cycle of life.
Bowing his head down and closing his eyes Jake thought of Abigail, just as he remembered her, her light brown hair scooped up, her long slim neck supporting her heart shaped face, almond shaped brown eyes smiling up at him. Daydreaming about her helped to make the nightmare of the work camp fade, and he lost himself imagining himself kissing her and slowly unbuttoning her white cotton blouse to reveal her high small breasts. His hands fisted lightly on the table as he sunk deeper into his thoughts, the sounds of the night and the murmur of the men talking fading away, the picture of her breasts bright in his brain as he imagined his hands cupping them, his thumb pad sweeping across the hard buds that tipped her breasts, the contrast of the darker skin of his hands against her pale creamy flesh........
Suddenly the sounds of shouts, and the crashing of chairs split the air and his fantasy disappeared as the scream of a man rent the air along with the crack of a whip. Standing up Jake watched as Broussard lifted his arm and brought the weapon back down with a sharp crack on the cowering black man who covered his head trying to protect it from the leather raining down on him. Two more guards ran over and grabbed the screaming convict, dragging him away from the table and over to a clearing in the compound where they kicked him and hit him before they cuffed his arms behind his back and dragged him by his feet over towards a metal lid of a coffin sized metal box recessed into the dirt and rolling him in, closed and locked the lid.
"Jesus, what did Brandon do to deserve that?" the man next to Jake whispered.
Shaking his head Jake replied, "Who knows.....maybe nothing....just happened to be there in the wrong place at the wrong time.....becoming Broussard's fun for the night."
Settling back down and looking down at his plate, Jake along with the other men kept still as the three guards walked up and down the table waiting for any movement from the men under their charge. After a while one of the guards yelled for the men to get down for the night. Picking up his plate and mug, Jake followed the line, placing them in the dirty cracked outside sink where they would be washed by the prison kitchen detail, and made his way towards the wooden hut that was now home.
Each man had the shackles removed from his ankles before they entered the stinking outhouse, and Jake undid the flies of his trousers and peed into the hole so that his piss join the river of yellow urine of the others as it drained out, the sour smell assaulting his nostrils, then rolled down and took off his trousers to stand naked with the others under the thin stream of water that was laughingly called a shower, trying to removing the grit, sweat and dirt from his body, and letting the water ease the tight skin of his back and shoulders.
Grabbing the trousers and jacket he went naked outside waiting for the shackles to be replaced before dropping his clothes to the growing pile by the door as he entered naked the sweltering heat that greeted him on the inside of the windowless long hut.
On each side of the hut were a row of metal bunks and Jake lay down on a lower bunk of a bed halfway along on the right side of the hut watching as a guard moved down each row, securing the short chain that ran between the cuffs on each prisoners ankles to the bottom eyelet on the end of each bunk.
Lying with his arms behind his head he stared up at the bunk above him, waiting his turn to be secured, and when he felt the chain between his legs pulled and secured his eyes never wavered. He just laid there, the anger at the ignoble treatment building inside him, as the guard moved on to the next bunk, tethering men as if they were animals for the night.
The light went off as the guards left the hut and the sound of the door being bolted rang through the humid and static air inside the building, a quiet lull as men lay, each in their own thoughts lasted for five or six minutes, and then the nightly noise began. Men started to talk, threats rang across the room, hard men telling softer men what they would do to them when they got their hands on them, a man to his left started to cry softly, further across another man started to jerk off, the creaking of his bed getting faster and faster as he worked himself up to cum. Jake turned over on his side, pulling his legs up as far as they would move against the restraint, closed his eyes and continued to fantasise about Abigail and the time they had the picnic down by the river, walking hand in hand amongst the long grass, past the Bold Cypress trees, listening to the buzz of the honey bees as they moved from flower to flower along the bank. In his mind he could smell the sweetness of her rose perfume, feel her soft hand in his, and the sound of her laughter in his ears. Holding the fantasy in his head he drifted off to sleep, the reality of his life fading as the dream took hold.
At the same time that Jake drifted off to sleep, Hannah Campbell stood outside on the porch of her run down one story home, her slim arms crossed across her breasts, her dusky blond hair pulled back in a thick ponytail. The cotton skirt she wore hung down hot against her bare legs as she watch the car pull up on the dirt drive of her property and she watched the sheriff climb out the dust covered police car. Hitching up his jeans, his leather gun holster riding low down on his narrow hips Sheriff John Millet adjusted his hat on his short blond hair, and walked towards Hannah with a slow easy swagger.
"Evenin' Miss Hannah...." Tipping his hat with his hand, "sure is hot tonight." Looking out around her property he noticed Frank her farmhand standing outside the barn, watching with his obsidian eyes every move that he made. Nodding over to the black man who wore torn and worn denim dungarees over his naked and glistening torso he then turned his face back towards Hannah. "You got a cool drink going.....maybe some nice fresh lemon perhaps?"
Hannah just stared at him then nodded over to the outside water pump, "Water is over there Sheriff, drink from the pump......that is if you can get any water out since they put in the levees and dried up the water table around her in the rice fields."
Removing his hat and wiping his brow John gave her his most winning smile, "Hannah, Hannah.......the levees needed to be put in......let me inside and we can talk about selling your place to the consortium......they want to give you a fair price."
"Fair price! Sheriff this place is all I got....what they're offering is an insult......this is my home....it was my parents place....they're buried over there" and she pointed to the graves under a big Cypress tree, ".....I ain't selling.....you tell them that.....and I have no intention of inviting a low slithering snake like you into my home."
"Now you don't mean that Hannah......"
"Yeah I do.....get back in your car and go back into town and tell them the place is not for sale......not now......not ever."
Taking a step forward towards her, his hand on his holster he replied, "If'n I was you I wouldn't be so hasty......notice you're scrabbling around raising vegetables and fruit, and I bet those and the small amount of eggs your hens are laying ain't bringing in enough to keep a soul together." Taking another step and glancing over to Frank who stood stock still watching and waiting for sign from Hannah he lowered his voice and told her, "Be good for you to be real nice to me Miss Hannah.....if you know what I mean.....always thought you a real fine looking woman......sell up and be nice to me and I'll make sure you come out of this smelling sweet as an apple pie."
Hannah looked down at the thirty two year old man, the sweat stains on his shirt showing dark, his hard featured face with the day old stubble and cold eyes looking her up and down in a suggestive way. "Sorry Sheriff, the farm and myself are not up for sale." And she turned around on the porch and walked through the screen door, closing the wooden door behind it and bolting it from the inside.
John stood there in the night looking at the closed door, then turned on his heel, climbed into the car and turning it around, drove out and away.
Abigail walked out of the kitchen, the two empty glasses in her hands, and a wide smile on her face. "Here you are sugar, two glasses waiting to be filled." And she held them out towards the man sitting on the couch, jacket off, tie loosened with the top button of his white shirt open, suit vest hanging open undone. "Just pour in a couple of inches of that smooth hooch."
Rory Kendal, Jakes best friend and former business partner leant forward, tipping the bottle up so that the golden brown liquid started to pour into the glass in her right hand. "Best take this slow and easy baby, this is strong stuff."
Sitting down next to him and holding out the other glass for him to fill she laughed, "Strong and tasty, and totally illegal." And she raised the now filled glass up to her lips and took a long sip, "and that makes it all the more exciting."
Taking a sip from his own glass of the drink, Rory looked at her and smiled a wicked smile, "Baby you make it more exciting." And his empty hand snaked around her shoulder and pulled her down towards him, turning his body towards her, and letting his mouth close over hers, his tongue, still with the taste of the illegal alcohol on it curling around hers in a deep passionate kiss.