Date: Thu, 16 Feb 2012 16:03:40 -0500
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Rue Dauphine 25

Rue Dauphine 25
Lance Kyle

The latest group of fugitives stayed in the house but two days when a sign
came to take them to the dock for a ship that would carry them to freedom.
The household was all on edge as they sent the fugitives off with Scott,
King, and Cloud, covered with good wishes.  Scott, King, and Cloud were
themselves on edge.  However, once they had safely conveyed the fugitives
onboard the waiting ship, with not even a sight of the authorities--once
they had seen the ship pull away from the dock as they waited nearby--they
came to realize that the authorities could not blanket the docks always,
and that they were more likely to be around for pickups.  This is because
they would have received word of escaped fugitives and would be on guard,
whereas they had no idea when or how those fugitives might be carried away
to freedom.

As they returned they noticed that the wind had picked up and skies were
grey.  It was getting to be the hurricane season in their part of the
world, and even if a full fledged hurricane did not come ashore, there were
frequent tropical storms and heavy showers.  They had returned the wagon to
the stable and re-entered the house when there was a knock on the front
door.  James announced the arrival of Mama Désirée.  It was the first time
they had seen her since the confrontation with the law, and the searching
of the house.  The whole household gathered around to visit with her.  She
knew what had happened--of course--but it was clear she didn't quite know
how the fugitives had been concealed, and that seemed to give her even
greater respect for the powers of the rings.  She announced that they might
expect the next arrival of fugitives in two more days.

"Can anything be done about the marshalls or other police, madame?" asked
Scott.  She shook her head.  "I fear it will only get worse as time goes
on," she said.  "We may vary what we do with the fugitives once they are
here; I am thinking more of them could simply `disappear' into New Orleans,
acquire new identities...but picking them up safely from the boats in the
first place, that is our challenge," she said.

Scott nodded thoughtfully.  "You...you knew what happened, you observed
what went on?" he asked again.  She nodded smugly.  "Have you advice as to
what to do if matters go worse in the future?" he asked.  Now it was her
turn to look thoughtful.  "We have some options available," she said.
"Just know that you are not alone and are not unwatched when you pick up
the fugitives.  Or at other times," and she grinned at some inner secret.
Scott nodded; he was quite sure she had eyes and ears everywhere.

"Any news of Peter?" he asked.  "I hope he is better.  Is there anything we
can do?" he asked.  Mama Désirée shook her head sadly.  "So much anger,"
she said, "and it is sad but you, Monsieur, are simply the wrong color to
help," she said.  "But I think we are making progress, and I think I have
found a work for him to do that will give him a sense of purpose."  And
then she refused to say anything more, but rose majestically and left the
house.

The weather worsened, and it was raining and blowing hard two days letter
when word was received that some fugitives were to arrive.  Scott had
contracted a cold in the head; nothing serious, but he was sneezing often.
Yet he never hesitated to muster his two person army of King and Cloud and
to head down to the dock.

There as they waited for the paddle-wheeler Vicksburg to arrive, they could
see the wind and rain on the river, whitecaps forming during gusts.  It was
hard to tell whether the authorities were there or not; everyone wore
raingear or simple sheets of oiled canvas to protect themselves.  The rain
came now in strong downdrafts.  Soon they saw the boat they wanted pull up.
Scott and Cloud went down as soon as it was secured, King remaining by the
wagon, securing the canvas covering with extra ropes.  Scott and Cloud
explained their business to the captain, exchanged secret codes of
recognition, and were ushered into the hold.  There they found a robust man
of about sixty, a young man of perhaps twenty, a young woman of about
twenty-five and a boy of ten.  The young woman appeared to be ill.  She was
perspiring and her eyes were glassy, and she was coughing constantly.
Scott had no doubt that Cleopatra's healing arts could be put to good use
for her.  Scott and Cloud explained to them the transformation that would
take place, and despite their wonder and fear, they accepted the plan.

Obtaining fake papers of sale, Scott led the transformed group out of the
hold, Cloud following behind.  But they had no sooner stepped on the dock
than two figures in billowing mackintoshes came up to accost them.  It was
Tower and Lane, the marshalls.

"You again!" Tower cried, "we're lookin' for four and ye got four."

"Four wenches?" asked Scott, for that was what the group appeared to be,
four women of about twenty.

"Thunder and gall!" roared Tower, his exclamation echoed by a crack of
thunder and another ferocious gust of wind.  "No, but I think yer
disguisin' `em.  Lemme look more closely," he said, and moved on the group.

Things happened quickly.  "No sir," cried Scott, putting himself between
the marshalls and the fugitives, "the weather is terrible and I must get my
property to shelter.  You may not examine them here," he said.  "By God, I
will!" cried Tower, menacingly.  Scott motioned behind him to Cloud to move
them on.  King stood with canvas pulled back, ready to whisk them under it
in a moment.  And then a combination of his own cold in the head, the
violent weather, and the marshall's threats broke Scott's concentration for
a split second, but it was enough.  Two of the women quickly flashed into a
sixty year old man and ten year old boy, then back to young women, then
back to man and boy, then back.

Tower and Lane's eyes were wide as saucers and Tower swore a terrible oath
while Lane crossed himself repeatedly, but then Tower drew a pistol and
pointed it directly at Scott.  Scott gave up a focus on the fugitives
completely, and drew up a powerful spell of repulsion to hurl at the
marshall.  Cloud did the same, preparing a similar attack from the flank.
Their rings glowed on their fingers in the gathering dark.  All pretense
now vanished.  King seized the moment and pulled the fugitives, their
disguises completely gone, into the wagon.  His next act would have been to
pull his pistol from his belt and join the fight.

And then in a flash of lightning, in the midst of a tremendous downdraft of
rain, a dark figure burst from concealment behind the marshalls.  In an
instant it leapt on Lane's back, then on Tower's, and then jumped clear.
The marshalls stood stock still for a moment, their faces full of
astonishment visible even in the rain.  Then the wind blew violently, and
their heads went with it.  Their bodies crumpled on the dock.

In shock and horror, Scott, Cloud, and King looked at the figure.  It was
Peter, a gleaming black machete in hand!  For an instant they saw a look of
maniacal triumph on his face, and then there was another tremendous
downdraft of rain and an explosion of thunder and when they looked again,
he was gone.

The three stood for but another moment, and then ran for the wagon. They
kicked the horse into as much speed as it could muster.  Looking back, they
saw an odd sight: Peter was dancing up the dock, away from the scene of the
murders, waving the machete and attracting as much attention as he could.
The few who remained outside in the weather focused attention on him, one
or two following from a safe distance.  Our three friends realized he was
drawing attention away from them and to himself.  Silently wishing him
godspeed, they urged the horse to greater efforts, and bypassing the slave
quarters entirely were soon at Rue Dauphine.  Scott and Cloud threw spells
of disguise back on the fugitives, who were ushered into the kitchen and
safety.  King hurried to return the horse and wagon and came back drenched,
as Scott and Cloud were just finishing their harrowing tale for the
assembled household, which received the news aghast.

The woman in the group was plainly ill, nearly doubled over with coughing,
and Cleopatra took her immediately to a bedroom.  The sixty year old man
and ten year old boy followed with much fear; it turned out they were the
woman's father and son.  The twenty year old man was unrelated, but of
course concerned.  The people of the house did what they could to make him
comfortable, and then gathered the old man and boy to do the same as soon
as the woman was in a bed under Cleopatra's care.  In their busyness they
barely had time to learn that the sick woman was named Helen, the old man
Pompey, the boy Cassius, the young man Washington.

The people of the house had been working all day to secure it from the
storm.  The wooden shutters on the outside of the windows were sturdy, and
the house was protected by the other buildings in the street, also by its
position on just the slightest elevation of land, which permitted its
unusual cellars.  The Annex was similarly secured.

Now the people sat by lamplight in the library of the main house, talking
quietly, sometimes shuddering at a particularly violent gust of wind or
close clap of thunder, the rattling of the shutters and creaking of the old
house.  But the house held secure.  The young man Washington joined them,
too fearful to remain by himself in the servants' quarters.  The situation
was too dangerous for him to wonder much at the strange relationships of
that house.  Pompey and his grandson Cassius remained at Helen's bedside,
with Cleopatra.

The people felt as if they were waiting for something.  The storm continued
to rage, and black night fell, but nobody wanted to split up to go to bed.
So pillows and blankets were gathered and they all found some way to fall
into fitful sleep in the library.

They were awakened in the middle of the night by a keening wail.  Lantern
light appeared in the hallway, and then Cleopatra.  "She is gone," she said
somberly.  "I could not save her."  Everyone rushed into the bedroom, where
Pompey and Cassius were loudly mourning the loss of Helen, who looked at
peace now, in death.  Everyone felt it as a loss, felt the poignancy of
this death on the brink of freedom, and many now wept.  They remained awake
until a few faint gleams of morning made their way through the shutters.
The wind was still howling--and then it stopped.  King rumbled, "I have
seen this happen before.  We will have a period of peace, and then the
storm will return."  They nodded, exhausted.  Niobe and Delilah had just
returned from a quick run to the kitchen with food and drink for everyone
when there was a knock at the door.

It was Mama Désirée.  They could see behind her that she had a light wagon,
and two assistants bundled up against the storm.  Her own cloak was
dripping as she stepped into the house.  Without a word she went to the
room where Helen lay, laid her hand on the dead woman's forehead, and
muttered some words.  Then she turned to Pompey and Cassius.

"I have come to remove her body for burial," she said.  "I'm afraid it is
not safe for you to come with her, not right now.  She will be laid to rest
in a place of respect and peace.  You may visit it later if you like," she
concluded.  "Say farewell to her now," she said.  There followed another
outburst of weeping as grandfather and boy bade farewell to their daughter
and mother, and then Mama Désirée's assistants came in, tenderly wrapped
her in a clean sheet, and began to carry her out the door.

Scott touched Mama Désirée on the arm and whispered to her: "You...you ARE
going to bury her, aren't you?" he asked.  She flashed angry eyes at him,
but then realized he had good reason to ask.  "Yes," she replied simply,
"she will be at rest."  Scott nodded.  And then he said, "Peter..." She
held her hand up.  "Safe," she said.  "Perhaps with some healing for
himself" she added.  And then she was gone.

The rest of that sleepless day was spent comforting Pompey and Cassius.  In
the late morning everyone slept, but by that evening the raging storm had
returned.  And yet, having made it through one night, everyone felt better
able to make it through another.  They all gathered in the library again
for mutual comfort, though.  Scott noticed that twelve year old Sampson
pulled ten year old Cassius in next to him, an arm around him, and
whispered comfort to him throughout the night.  Cleopatra did the same for
Pompey, while King kept up a friendly conversation with Washington.  Mary,
Elsie, Delilah, and Niobe had ferried in enough food and drink from the
kitchen to keep them well fed, and of course the shower baths were now
fully supplied with water from the cisterns.  During the lull, James and
Cloud had dashed across the street to inspect the Annex, and had reported
back that it was holding up well against the storm.

By the next morning the storm, although it raged powerfully through the
night, was gone.  There was very little damage in Annex or main house, and
that was soon repaired.  The cisterns at the Annex were reported to be full
and in good working order.  Everyone took long naps that afternoon.
Somehow, from one person or another, Pompey, Cassius, and Washington were
apprised of the social arrangements of the house, at least apart from the
sexual dimension, and they seemed intrigued.  The brief interactions they
had with Scott confirmed, to their amazement, the liberties of the house
and the easy comfort everyone had with every other one.

Matters seemed restored to near normal by evening.  The streets still ran
with rainwater and the skies were grey, although no longer raining.  Scott
ventured a stroll to look for newspapers.  One was just getting out an
edition, the first since the storm began.  He bought a copy and was not
surprised to find the savage murders of two U.S. Marshalls announced on the
front page.  Blame was squarely placed on a wild Negro of beast-like aspect
and demeanor, whose murderous assault was witnessed by several.  No mention
was made of any fugitives, and it was evident that the search had but
barely begun for Peter.  Scott was sure that, after this much time, it
would not be successful.  He returned to share this news with the
household, which was much relieved.

It was clear that fear and exhaustion had somewhat dampened the sexual
ardor of the house, but nevertheless everyone was in the habit of sleeping
with others.  Aware that the newest fugitives might not be, each was
offered his own private room--but each was also offered simple company for
the night, whatever that might turn into.  Cleopatra took Pompey by the arm
and led him off, who knows to what end?  Moses likewise asked Washington if
he wanted his own bedroom.  Washington replied that he was unused to such a
thing, and truth be told, he was still a little frightened, so Moses took
him off to another bedroom and once in bed simply held him in his arms
until both drifted off to sleep.  Cassius was firmly under the command of
Sampson, who took him to another bedroom, but both boys were so sleepy they
could barely walk.

Scott, exhausted, was heading for his room when James sidled up next to
him, hugging him tightly.  Scott hugged back and then took them both to bed
where, naked but tired, they quickly fell asleep entwined in each other's
arms, sharing breath, heart beating against heart, fast asleep throughout
the night.  An hour later the hallways of the house filled with the scent
of roses, and a column of light was joined by another column to glide
through the hallways, leaving peace in their wake, to stand for a moment
over the bed where Cassius lay, and then Pompey's, and then the second
column sparkled and dissolved into starlight.

The next morning Scott and James awoke still in each other's arms.  They
kissed and nuzzled, laughing softly.  Soon the effect of over two days
without sex took over and hands slid over bodies, kisses became prolonged,
deep, and passionate.  Scott reveled in sinking his fingers into James's
thick cap of crinkly hair, crisp as an apple, while the thirteen year old
black boy loved the silky texture of Scott's dirty blonde hair.

James pushed Scott back on his back and then crawled on top of him, nose to
tail, his purple black penis and ballsack dangling down for Scott to take
into his mouth, his own mouth positioned over the white man's stiff rosie
cock.  Gently, they sucked and tongued each other in that way, moaning with
pleasure.  Then James flipped around and seized the goose grease, oiled
Scott's knob and his own anus, and squatting astride Scott's hips, he
lowered himself onto the rampant rod.  James sighed as he slid down, and
then he was fully impaled, sitting straight up.  He looked down at the
muscular chest and abdomen of the eighteen year old white man beneath him
and began rising and falling, riding the rosie iron hard rod.  James
reached out his hands and Scott met them with his hands, palms against
palms and fingers intertwined.  Man and boy looked at the deep chocolate
and cream colored fingers intertwined, and each knew he had never seen a
more beautiful sight.

Up and down, up and down, smiling at each other with great joy, now Scott
pushing his hips up to meet the black boy's rhythm, up and down and then
Scott's torso arched and he cried out James's name and pushing his groin up
he came, a fountain of semen inside the black boy.  They never broke eye
contact, never loosened their fingers' grip, as the white man bucked and
gasped and then collapsed back onto the bed.  He pulled James down onto his
chest and held him there tightly, hands running up and down his back.  Then
he pushed James down a bit and brought his own legs up.  Understanding what
to do, James quickly oiled his penis, although it ran with clear liquid,
and then Scott's anus, and then inserted himself completely in one move.

Scott wrapped his legs around the small of James's back and the thirteen
year old black boy lay down flat on Scott's abdomen, wrapping his arms
around Scott and pulling himself down into him.  The black boy set up a
tremendously fast pumping, his tight rounded buttocks fanning back and
forth, and then very quickly he came as well, pulled tight into Scott's
body, black and white merging into one for a moment yet again, and then he
shuddered and was done.

James lay like that for a few minutes more, as man and boy caressed each
other and whispered words of love.  Then a faint sound near the door got
their attention.  It was Sampson and Cassius, both naked, just awakened,
standing in the doorway.  Cassius's eyes were wide and his mouth opened.
Sampson whispered some things to him.  James and Scott waved lazily to
them.  Then the younger boys slipped out, who knows where and for what
purpose, leaving James and Scott to cuddle for a few more minutes before
the day's work began.


Comments welcome
I might take another short break here, but don't worry, more to come.
lokiaga@austin.rr.com