The Gift

I gave a start. I hadn’t told anyone about Nick. He was ten years old than me. I was fifteen. He believed I was a very young-looking twenty-one. I had made love to Nick many times in his apartment. He was very amused by me and by my disregard for danger, how I’d show up at midnight having walked to his loft. I met him in a creative writing class and I was incredibly turned on by his blond hair and cheerful grin… I felt incredible desire for him. Nick liked it rough, no gentle sex with him. It was wild and sweaty and sexy and beautiful… and I had my first orgasm with Nick. But he was my secret, my naughty private life. He moved on to another woman, not breaking my heart. After all, I was only sixteen when we broke up. I had plenty of life ahead of me.

“Go on,” I said, pressing my lips together. This man had really captured my attention now… he knew every detail of my life.

“Well, soon enough you went to Georgetown and moved into a penthouse apartment. You had a lover named Jack. He spent your money, slept with other women behind your back. But you knew that, didn’t you Dixie? We couldn’t understand why you stayed with him. But he made your father happy, that’s why. Your father wanted you to marry Jack, didn’t he? So you wouldn’t come South. But then you got sick, and you felt New Orleans in your blood. We paid your friend an exorbitant sum not to come with you. We created false claims against corporations to keep your father busy so he couldn’t prevent you.”

“But why do you want me?” I whispered. My head was swimming. “Why does my grandmother want me?”

“She didn’t want you and your gift lost, my dear,” the man whispered, walking over to kneel in front of me. “She feared your father would drive it out of you, and she did what she could to prevent that.” He unbuttoned the front of my blouse, but I was already lost in a sea of my desire for him. I reached down and cupped his groin. I stood and allowed him to continue undressing me.

It was just as heady and beautiful and warm as the first time. His cock slid into me roughly, he didn’t care whether he hurt me. And of course our minds became one. I knew just how hard to twist his nipples, just how long he wanted to kiss. And he knew when I needed to come, and he made me come like I had never come before. He rubbed my clit furiously as I moaned incoherently. I was completely intoxicated by this man, a man whose name I didn’t know. He was gentle and strong, like New Orleans rain. And when it was over again, when he had come again, and we were exhausted, flushed, and in each other’s arms, he whispered the same words to me. “You’re beautiful, Dixie St. Clair. Just perfectly beautiful.” His voice was soft and gentle and so incredibly smooth. I fell asleep beside the warmth of his body.

When I awoke, I was uncertain of the time. I looked out of the floor-length glass windows and ascertained that it must be close to midnight. The New Orleans lights were maddening; I wanted so badly to explore the city that I had come to see. Only a few candles lighted the room. And again, as before, the man was gone. I knew he would be gone, knew he would leave me again. And how long would I be his prisoner here? For certainly he didn’t mean to let me leave, and I was unable to flee with his staff and security surrounding me. How would he explain my disappearance to the hotel staff at the Pontchartrain? Or would they even ask? I suddenly became aware of my very precarious position, and all with a man whose name I had not been able to find out.

I realized that I was very thirsty, and rather hungry. My breakfast at the hotel seemed days ago. Almost instantly, the man reappeared with a bottle of chilled champagne and a meal tray. I uncovered the dinner and saw true New Orleans fare: jambalaya pasta and jumbo shrimp, Cajun spice. I was entranced, but too hungry to marvel. I devoured the meal and drank the champagne until I was dizzy. During this time, my strange companion never spoke a word.

“Why do you keep me here?” I asked wearily when I had finished and the tray had been removed. I realized the futility of the question, but I wanted to see if I could make him answer me differently, reveal a little more information.

“You know, beautiful one,” he said with a slight smile. “You only have to think about it a little longer. Until you understand it, unfortunately, I am unable to let you leave. You realize I am under strict orders.”

“Yes, I know,” I said softly. “But I wish you could tell me who you are.”

“If it is a name you wish, I can provide you with a name.”

“But will it be your name?” I asked.

“No, just a name,” he replied. “I am unable to give you any further information until you come to understand your situation a little better.”

I took a deep drink of the champagne and watched as he stood and produced another bottle, chilled to perfection. I sighed deeply, realizing that this prison was a torture cell, in its own strange way. It provided me with the very weapons with which I could not think coherently: the food, the champagne. I was getting delirious, and I was unable to produce a clear thought.

“You have told me many things,” I whispered to the man as he watched me intently.

“Yes.” He replied with no pride, only a quiet resonance.

“Tell me how I can come to understand these things,” I whispered.

“Think deeply, sweetheart,” he said. “I can’t give you the tools to make this task easier. I can empathize with you, but I can’t make it easier.”

I walked to the bed and lay down, realizing quite suddenly that I was still naked and that I didn’t care. I fell again into a light and uncomfortable sleep.

It remained that way for almost two weeks – two weeks in which I had no contact with anyone except the man. We ate and drank and made love together, often going several hours without speaking. He told me stories about my grandmother’s youth, stories she had passed to him. I longed to go outside, and began to think of escape. But as soon as the thought reached my head I knew it reached his as well. He was far more capable of blocking me than I was of escaping.

“How are you explaining this to my parents?” I asked on what I had determined to be my tenth day in this prison. “Surely they have contacted the hotel by now. Probably the police are even looking for me.”

“On the contrary,” the man replied. “Your grandmother sent word that you had come to her rather quickly and were busy having fun with your cousins, your Aunt Lauren’s children. This was more satisfactory to your parents than your travels alone and they have asked no questions. When they call, we tell them that you are out on some expedition with Lauren or Dixie and they are happy to accept that explanation.”

I burned with resentment. But still I knew that this knowledge gave me a little hope. Obviously they could not carry on this deception forever. I would eventually be released. But if they meant to release me, what was the purpose in being here at all? My mind was going in circles.

On the twelfth day of seclusion I realized something. The man and I had made love a minimum of twenty times, during which neither of us used any form of protection. A sickening feeling passed over me as I realized why I was being kept here. My knees buckled from beneath me and I let a low moan escape my lips. Hearing my voice, the man came from behind a closed door.

“Ah, so you now understand, sweetheart,” the man said softly. “I’m sorry to have deceived you, truly I am.”

“Take me to my grandmother,” I pleaded piteously. “I have to go to her now.”

“I will, dear,” he said softly, his eyes looking down at me tenderly. “But first we have to make sure… you know… I need you to take a test.”

I was sobbing now, and I felt sick. I took the test kit from him despairingly and left him to go to the bathroom. I realized I was still naked and I wished intensely that I had a robe or something to cover myself up. But I had to find a way to escape from here, a way to somehow get my old life back. I suddenly felt like that would never happen.

We glided along in a dark car, not the same sedan as the one that had brought me to the prison. I refused to speak to the man, refused to look at him. I didn’t care who he was anymore; I just wanted him away from me. Of course the test kit was positive. I wanted nothing more in the world than to kill the man. I hated him!

“Miss St. Clair…” the man whispered gently. I ignored him as before, and then realized that he wasn’t trying to make me like him for the sake of my grandmother or anyone else. He truly liked me, and he was truly upset that I hated him. “I didn’t want to be a part of this, dear,” he said. “I can tell you about myself now, if you’d like.”

“I never want to see you again.” I refused to look at him.

“Very well… I don’t think I’d differ from your opinion if I was in your position either.” He sighed miserably and I noticed that his eyes were slightly red, whether from lack of sleep or crying, I couldn’t tell. I felt my heart relenting to this man who was obviously the father of my child. He had to know that I was feeling sympathy for him and for his position.

“Yes, I know,” he said softly. “But I don’t wish to intrude much on your thoughts. You deserve some small privacy… I took your freedom away from you for nearly two weeks, certainly I can grant you the privacy of your mind.”

I admired his respect for me, because if I were capable of reading his mind, I would certainly be doing it. I suddenly realized that he was somehow locked to me and I couldn’t quite place how. Obviously he was the father of my child, but beyond that there was some kind of connection. At this point, I was certainly reading his mind!

“Why did you open your mind to me, Pierce?” I asked. I knew his name, he had given me that much.

“If you don’t care to listen to my voice, perhaps you will listen to my thoughts. I can’t give you much through my thoughts, and often you will gather unreliable information. But I would be happy to verbalize anything for you, dear,” he said with a small smile.

“I guess I should be informed,” I said, trying to smile back at him.

He understood my hesitation and clasped my hand. “Where to start?” he asked. “Your grandmother was searching for someone with the gift to be an appropriate father to her great-grandchild. She knew that in the state of Louisiana it is illegal to marry family, but she still wanted, in the old royal way, to ‘strengthen the line’, so to speak. So her way to get around it was to have Lauren’s daughter Camille marry another gifted family from the South. This family were the Lacorte family, my family. Camille married my younger brother Jacques and I was the only man of marriageable age in the family left for you. Your grandmother befriended my mother when my mother was quite young, and my mother was willing to have me study the gift under your grandmother for many years. I came to know Dixie better than I knew my own grandmother.

“However, you just never came. And I suppose that was better, because you couldn’t know who I was that way, because I was always at Dixie’s and certainly you would have run into me eventually, spoiling the whole plan. And it is also unfortunate that I am certainly your senior,” Pierce said this with a slight grimace. “I am going to be thirty this fall, and I can tell by your tight young body you can’t be more than seventeen.”

I interrupted briefly to tell him that I was twenty, which seemed to amaze him for a few minutes.

“Well, I have studied the gift with Dixie since I was seven, and I am very skilled. My purpose, now that you are pregnant, is of course to marry you, given that you provide your consent, of course. I am also to bring you to Dixie so that she can determine whether you are capable of learning the secrets of the gift. She really does believe your father corrupted you, you know,” he smiled softly, his hand patting my belly gently and his eyes with a distant, far-off look in them. “I have waited many years to see this day come, my darling,” he whispered. “And it didn’t hurt to have all of that fantastic sex, did it?”

I smiled bitterly. “It would have been more fantastic if I had realized what was going on. But I certainly understand why you couldn’t tell me,” I was enjoying his hands on my body, and realized that I wanted him badly. “How can we get the driver to leave us alone before we get to my grandmother’s?” I whispered urgently.

“Unfortunately, he has orders, my dear,” my companion explained regretfully. “But if I explain your needs to your grandmother she will be happy to provide us with a room.”

“That’s kind of sick, I don’t want that,” I answered, slightly disgusted.

“You’ve been in the North too long, child,” he whispered back. “The South is full of all kinds of sweet perversions.”

We arrived at my grandmother’s slightly before dark, just when the flowers in the South begin to leave a gorgeous perfumed scent in the chilled air. My grandmother lived in Metairie, a ‘modernized’ suburbia, and a beautiful place. The waiters and maids were quick and attentive, and I wished I could join the rest of the people who were drinking champagne. I was wearing the same clothes I had worn to the prison (I continued to call in that, in spite of the fact that I was warming to my captor more each minute) and I felt dirty and out of place with these women in their fine linen pants and light jackets. Pierce led me to the back patio, where my grandmother and Aunt Lauren and Grandpere Louis sat.

“Oh, Pierce!” my grandmother stood as soon as she saw us coming, Pierce’s arm protectively around my shoulder. In the corner of my eye I saw Camille and the gentleman who must obviously be Jacques, playing with their son. But my attention was focused on Grandmother.

“Ah, Dixie,” she said, her lips trembling. “I suppose Pierce…” she stopped suddenly and looked at Lauren’s fixed and cold face. “Lauren, give me a few minutes with my granddaughter, would you please?” Grandmother looked at me lovingly, ignoring Lauren’s retreating back. “He explained it all to you, my darling? And now I suppose you hate me.”

I took a deep breath before answering, feeling Pierce holding me, sheltering me. I knew that no matter what he would stay by me, regardless of my grandmother. This was not only about the gift to him, it was about me. “ I don’t hate you,” I said softly.

Her lips still trembled and her arms reached for me. I allowed myself to be cuddled to her form, the tears that I had held back for so long finally breaking. Holding me, she turned to Pierce and mutely asked for the details. I could see that it cost him some effort to give her a cold-blooded explanation of our coupling, of the creation of our child.

“Go to him, darling,” my grandmother whispered. “He will take you upstairs to lie down, and I will have a dinner ready for you within the hour. Lauren, would you and Camille please go shopping for this child, she needs some new clothes. Dixie, darling, I gathered your luggage from the Pontchartrain, of course you don’t mind, I thought you might prefer to be here.”

I looked beseechingly at Pierce, who nudged my grandmother gently, explaining to her without words that I would like my privacy at the Pontchartrain, and that he would continue to stay with me and would bring me here each day.

My grandmother pursed her lips slightly and said stiffly, “Pierce, kindly do not contradict me.” It was a lost cause – I was staying at Metairie.

Pierce brought me upstairs, apologizing over and over for my grandmother’s hardheartedness. “She can’t help it, Dix,” he said gently. “She needs to be able to control everything you do for as long as she can. She knows you’re going to want to leave at the end of the summer and she won’t be able to prevent you then. She needs to teach you now.”

I was surprised that anyone thought I would be leaving. “I’m raising this child on my own?” I asked slowly. Certainly Pierce couldn’t be expected to come with me.

“Goodness, Dixie, you didn’t think I would be coming? It’s been planned for years for me to join you up North.” He looked at me with confusion. “You don’t want to leave, is that it? Honey, you don’t have to leave.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t going to be deserted! And frankly, the thought of going back North gave me the chills all over. I really wanted to stay here, with my family, my heritage. Stay here where the sun was always a little hazy, the sky had that deep violet colour. My whole life was changed in a way I couldn’t imagine, in beautiful ways, from the tiny person within me to the person I had become without. I knew I belonged here, with my grandmother, Grandpere Louis, Aunt Lauren, Camille and Jacques, and with Pierce. Especially with Pierce. It was all changed somehow into something better, and all because of the gift.