tagNovels and NovellasMiss Dixieland Ch. 06

Miss Dixieland Ch. 06


Delta Bayou and the Miss Dixieland Pageant (Delta Bayou Adult Mysteries no. 1)

********* Chapter 6: Mike's Sporting Emprorium **********

Delta had spent some time thinking about her talent for the performance at the Miss Dixieland competition. Normally, contestants had to submit a video of their talent when applying but luckily she hadn't had to after the shortcut she'd taken with Phil. But still, she was in the contest and she wanted to make a show of it, so she'd asked around to see what the other girls were planning. It was mostly the usual roundup of acts: singing (Delta had been told once in high school that her singing sounded like a pig squealing- she'd always remembered that particular insult), dancing (she was a good dancer, but hadn't studied dance for years like some of the other contestants), recitations (Tabitha was actually planning on reciting a hefty chunk of the book of Psalms- it turned out that she was very religious), and playing instruments. Although many of Delta's previous lovers had told her that she was very talented at sucking dick, she didn't think that would quite work onstage. It wasn't until work one day when Stanford made a joke about Delta not being a good shot when inspiration struck.

Sharpshooting. Despite Stanford's teasing, Delta actually was a very good shot. She had inherited her grandfather's old revolver when he had passed away, and as a child, she had spent hours outside in the hot Louisiana sun learning to shoot it at tin cans in the woods. A lot of her friends had enjoyed hunting in middle school and high school. Delta never did like hunting much, but she did like shooting, so she would go along, and test out her friend's guns, trying them out on targets and unsuspecting trees. She'd handled all sorts of guns, learned to shoot them all well, and practiced quick drawing on top of that. It was one of the things that had attracted her to a career in the police force.

The more she thought about her act for the talent portion, the more excited she got. She would put on some sort of slutty cowgirl outfit, get a target up on stage with her and do a sort of wild west sharpshooting act. The crowd would love it. She just needed the costume and of course, the correct bullets for shooting an indoor, close-range target. The costume she put together easily with a few items from her close and a stop by the costume shop in Milkinville, which was close to the station. For the bullets, she resolved to go to Mike's Sporting Emporium in order to scope out Mike Dunn. She didn't have much of a read on him yet, though she remembered the image of him in Nick's club the night that all of the Red Cherry was going around.

Mike's Sporting Emporium was housed in a large warehouse-style building on the Eastern side of Norridgeton. It was in a good location, the center of a small shopping plaza, between a furniture store and a nail salon. The inside was organized and bright, and she passed through the aisles, looking at the various items- fishing poles, basketballs, running shoes, just about anything any kind of athlete could want. After one circuit around the store, she hadn't seen Mike at all, just a handful of employees in their uniform neon yellow polos and khakis. She flagged down one such employee- a middle-aged woman stocking yoga mats, to ask if Mike was in.

"Oh sure, Mr. Mike is just in the back. Does he know you, honey?"

"He sure does!" Delta replied with a smile. "Could you tell him that Miss Delta Bayou would like to see him at the gun counter?"

The woman placed one last yoga mat on the shelf and rose, dusting off her knees and patting her brown bouffant hair. "Sure thing. I'll let him know you're here."

Delta made her way over to the gun section and made small talk with the middle-aged man behind the counter, chatting him up about the various guns for sale. She noticed that he was paying more attention to her cleavage than he was listening to what she was saying, but she didn't mind. Mike had just walked up.

"Well Miss Bayou, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He was dressed just as his employees were, except with for the white baseball cap that covered his balding head and the white sports coat over his polo. The neon yellow of the shirt washed out his already sallow complexion. Delta shook his hand pleasantly. He seemed perfectly polite even though they were barely acquainted.

She gave him her most charming smile and explained her idea for her act in the talent portion. "So you see," she said, leaning against the counter to set off her bosom to a more inviting display. "I needed to check with someone first about the bullets that I was firing off. Since you own the sporting goods store, I thought that you would be the most knowledgeable, so I wanted to check with you before I bought anything."

Mike's chubby face lifted into a small. "Well, you have absolutely made the best decision." He shooed his other employee away and guided Delta back behind the counter, asking her about the make and model of the gun she was planning to use, and extolling the virtues of the different cartridges he had in stock against different possible target materials. The conversation was friendly, but not particularly helpful for Delta's work on the case. After purchasing a box of ammo for her performance and talking guns with Mike, she was racking her mind for a way to extend the conversation when someone familiar approached the counter.

He was dressed in tight ripped jeans and an old black tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. The tattoos across the muscles on his upper arms were familiar. "Hey there, Mike," the man said in a pronounced Southern drawl. Delta grinned in surprise as she recognized the face underneath his baseball cap. His jaw dropped open as he recognized Delta too. It was her first, and only, customer from the carwash.

"Hey there Floyd." They shook hands across the counter. Mike gave Delta a sideways glance. "Well, Delta, it was a pleasure seeing you today. I hope you have a blessed afternoon. I'd hate to keep you."

Delta smiled at Mike and then at Floyd. She knew when she was being dismissed. "It was nice to see you again, Mike. You too, Floyd." She winked at him.

Floyd grinned at her, dimples appearing in his cheeks under the blonde stubble. "Delta, was it? I never did get your name the other day." He seemed immune to Mike's impatience.

"You can get more than my name if you want to find me over in the swimsuit section whenever you are done here with Mike."

Floyd's grin grew larger and he tipped his cap at here. "Well, I might just do that."

Delta blew him a kiss goodbye and glanced over her shoulder as she left. Floyd was still staring after her, but Mike's body had gone rigid. His shoulders were stiff and he was drumming his fingers on the glass of the display case. Delta walked away quickly, and then circled back around the next aisle, peeking around a display to see what the two men were up to. Floyd was leaning over the counter, Mike speaking lowly into his ear. She saw Mike reach into the pocket of his khakis and pull out what seemed to be a small slip of paper. He pushed it over to Floyd, who glanced at it and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. That appeared to be the end of their interaction, so Delta scurried away towards swimwear.

Floyd found her a few moments later, while she flipped nonchalantly through bikini tops. "Hey sugar," he said. His voice was a low twang, like a country music star's.

"Hi there. Floyd, right? I sure did enjoy meeting you at the carwash the other day." At this Floyd grinned and looked at his feet. "I didn't know you and Mike knew each other." She turned around to face him. He looked away again with her direct eye contact.

"Oh sure me and Mike go way back."

"How do you know each other?"

He scratched his leg with his booted foot. "Mmm just from business."

"Did you used to work for him here?"

"Oh naw, it's a different kind of business. Um, freelance. So hey, I had a real good time meetin' you and your friends the other day. But um, we didn't get to know each other very well. Would you maybe want to go out and get an ice cream with me?"

Delta almost laughed at whole wholesome it all seemed. Ice Cream? What's next? A milkshake at a malt shop? "Sure that'd be nice."

"I can give you a lift there... if you want?"

She agreed and followed Floyd back out to the parking lot. It was still a hot day, but the worst of the afternoon heat had passed and the sun was low in the sky. Floyd led Delta to his shiny black pickup truck.

He opened the door for her, and she felt the wall of sun-baked heat slam into her skin. "Wow, it's hot in there. Want to let it cool off a minute before going?" he said. She nodded, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the vehicle. "Oh!" he pulled out the little slip of paper that she had seen him get from Mike. "I almost forgot! Hey, do you mind if I give someone a call right fast? Speakin' of business."

"Oh don't mind me," she said. She leaned beside him against the truck as he fished in his pocket for his cell phone. He squinted at the paper in his hand and dialed a number. Delta could hardly believe her luck.

"Hey, it's Floyd. I just talked to Mike. Yep... yep. I have them all ready. Sure, can you just tell me where?" He turned around, absently running a hand over a decal on his truck. "The pageant. Sure. Thanks." He clicked the flip phone shut. "Sorry about that," he said to Delta. "It's a work thing."

"You're going to be at the pageant?"

"Wouldn't miss it!"

"For work?" she pressed.

He avoided her gaze and went around to the other side of his truck. "Let's go get that ice cream."

It was a short ride through town to the local ice cream parlor and they were there in under five minutes. Floyd asked Delta if she wanted to go inside, but she had other plans and instructed him to pull around through the drive-through. She let him buy her a large vanilla cone, which was her favorite; she liked to keep things simple.

She took the cone delicately from Floyd who passed it over to her from the attendant at the drive-through window. She carefully placed the wad of napkins in the side of the door, and swirled her tongue over the smooth white mountain of soft serve, licking clean the edges around the cone. Floyd watched this process intently, closing his lips over the blue plastic straw that stuck out of the globed top of the slushie that he had ordered. He took a cautious sip as her tongue flicked out again over the ice cream.

"Say, Floyd, do you know anywhere private we could go? Some little place down a dirt road or something?"

"Yep, sure do." He took another sip of his drink, flicking his eyes between her and the road. The muscles of his throat bobbed as he swallowed the drink. The street lights were just beginning to flicker on in the coming summer dusk as they made the smallest of small talk while Floyd navigated the roads out of town. He flicked his lights on outside of city limits and drove through the smoky twilight haze while Delta lazily licked the ice cream, tidying up the edges, keeping it from melting down the sides of her fingers.

He pulled onto a dirt road about two miles outside of city limits and followed some incomprehensible tangle of smaller dirt roads deeper into the woods. He slowed the truck and pulled onto a grass path that forked off the side of a road and led past a copse of trees into a clearing. "How this?"

She smiled. "Perfect. She had enough ice cream left, although it was beginning to run, even in front of the blast of the truck's AC. "Get out of the truck." Floyd didn't say anything. He only nodded, and slid the gear shift into park, shutting off the engine. Delta slid out of her seat, and into the sultry night air. She could hear the crickets chirping in the field, and the low call of frogs bubbling up from the depths of the woods.

Floyd came around to her side of the truck. She licked her ice cream again, slowly, letting him watch the arcs of her tongue as she worked her way around the cone. She looked into his eyes. His face was tight with hopeful anticipation and she didn't want to disappoint him. She grabbed the collar of his tee shirt with her free hand, guiding his back up against the metal body of the truck. He sighed and then laughed, guessing correctly at what was coming. "I must be the luckiest sonofabitch ever born."

She pressed her body closely against his, one arm slipping over the muscles of his back, the other, lifting the ice cream cone to his lips. He swiped his tongue over her offering, and she leaned in closer, kissing him. The sweet vanilla smeared between their mouths, and she chased the flavor, flicking her tongue against his opened lips. He grabbed her tightly around the waist, kissing her deeply, while she slid her hand lower over his back, and into the back pocket of his jeans. Unfortunately, it was the empty pocket. She covered the move by grabbing his butt through the fabric, and pulling his hips into hers. His erection crushed against her thighs.

"Let's get this off of you," she said, pulling at the bottom hem of his shirt. He grinned at her and lifted it over his head. She switched the ice cream to her left hand, taking another taste of it while admiring the sight. "Damn, son." She whistled in appreciation and Floyd grinned at the appreciation. He was ripped. She wondered if even Stanford had such nice abs. He probably didn't. Nothing about Stanford was nice.

She closed her eyes, and pushed back the unbidden thoughts of Stanford, preferring to concentrate on Floyd. She leaned up close against him, fingers teasing the curve of his back, just beginning to dampen with sweat in the humid air. She grabbed his butt again, the right side this time, and slipped the small paper in his pocket between her fingers, sneaking it easily out of his pocket.

"Undo your pants," she whispered in his ear. He quickly scrabbled with his belt and fly while she transferred the paper into her own back pocket. He pulled the elastic band of his boxers lower on his hips, letting his erection jut out into the night air. Delta leaned into him again and kissed his neck, her mouth still full of ice cream.

He shivered against her touch. "Oh fuck," he breathed while she continued her trail downwards. She pressed her tongue against the firm muscles of his chest, pushing the cold ice cream over his skin. She took another lick from the cone, and then flicked her tongue against the small pinprick of his nipple. He flinched backward, leaning into the truck. "Oh fuck," he repeated. She worked her mouth lower, over his solar plexus, down smooth ridges of his abs, leaving goosebumps on his skin. She sunk to her knees, feeling them growing damp from the moist grass under her jeans.

She mixed in more ice cream as she went, gliding her tongue under his belly button, and across the smooth plain between his hip bones. She went for another bit of ice cream and he gasped. "Jesus fucking Christ. Are you crazy, woman?"

She ignored him pushed him back against his truck, and though he breathed heavily, he didn't try to push her off as she placed her ice cream covered tongue against the head of his cock. He groaned as her chilly lips parted over his head. She slid her tongue around his shaft, covering it with cream while he shivered.

"Do you like that, darlin'?" She lifted her mouth for another bite.

He gasped. "I love it and hate it at the same time." His hips tilted forwards, cock nudging against her lips.

"Mmm" she moaned a little while taking him in her mouth, warming up her cold tongue against the heat of his shaft. There wasn't much ice cream left, but it didn't seem that Floyd could last much longer, anyways. His legs were shaking and his breaths were coming quickly.

Delta rolled the last bit of the dessert into her mouth and let the cone fall forgotten to the ground. She used her newly freed hand to take Floyd's cock into her palm, gliding her hand up and down the shaft while she licked it from underneath. The melting ice cream pooled out of the side of her mouth and over her sticky hands as she pumped him. Without warning, his thick cock spasmed in her mouth, spitting hot arcs of cum into the cold melted vanilla whirls of cream. She kept him in her mouth while he came, gently rubbing her tongue along his clenching cock. He moaned deeply and slumped against the truck. "Fuuuuuuck."

Delta stood, and Floyd bent down to kiss the top of her head, which she thought was sweet. She opened the door of the truck and reached for the napkins she had saved earlier along with a bottle of water from her purse. She was sticky. Floyd was very sticky. Wordlessly, she dampened a napkin with water and used it to clean her hands. Once this was accomplished, she wiped off Floyd's chest and then handed him another napkin so he could clean the sugar off his crotch.

He smiled happily at her while he wiped down his cock. "You sure are full of surprises. I never imagined a girl doing that with ice cream before."

She shrugged. "I'm creative."

He stuck the used napkin in his back pocket and came closer to her, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her closer. "I think I owe you something." His lips closed on her mouth, not rushed like before, but soft and sensual. He ran his hand along her spine and then back down to her waist, to guide her around to the back of the truck. He climbed up first, and then offered her a hand to pull her up.

They settled into the back of the truck, Floyd lying Delta back gently against the floor of it. He kissed her slowly, his vanilla tongue slipping in and out of her mouth while she writhed beneath him, feeling the need for his attention growing between her legs. His body was hot above her, and she felt the sweat prickling at her back in the muggy night air. He kissed her neck, tenderly, and slowly unbuttoned her pants, wedging his wide hand under the fabric, and over her soft mound. She spread her legs wide as he rubbed through her dampening panties, edging them to the side. The tip of his hot finger slipped between her lips and she rose her hips to meet it. He found her clit and slid his finger against it, dipping another finger into her cunt.

He wriggled his hand around for a moment and then grunted. "These jeans sure are tight, baby. Let's get you out of them." A bead of sweat rolled down his face as he removed his hand and pulled at the waist of the pants. It took a moment to get them off. The humidity had practically glued them to her legs. He tossed them to the side of the truck, and then ran his hands over her chest, pulling off her shirt. She was happy to see it go into the pile.

"I don't think you need yours either," she said. He obligingly pulled the jeans off, along with his underwear. His cock was already hard again, poking out proudly from beneath his hips. He rolled on top of her again, mouth lingering on hers. He pulled the head of his cock at her opening and moved it up and down against her, covering the head in her wetness. She was dying for him to enter her.

Suddenly she noticed a blue light flickering against a branch above her. She pushed him to the side and peered into the dark. Down the road, barely visible through the pine trees was the flashing blue light of a police car. "Get dressed!" she ordered.

"The fuck?" Floyd noted the police lights. "Baby, they don't know we're here!" he said, but threw on his jeans and shirt on anyways, and hopped out of the bed of his truck. Delta had just finished wrestling her jeans back into place when the lights made the turn on the grass lane towards them. A second later and she had fought her way into her abandoned shirt. She bounced down out of the bed of the truck just as the headlights of the sheriff's car spilled over them throwing long, harsh shadows into the woods.

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