Chapter 8
Two weeks later Damien left Montego Bay bound for Paris and a meeting with Philippe Leveque to discuss the future of the business. Angel kept the shop closed and spent her time redecorating Cinnamon Hall to make it more presentable for party-giving. She wanted to get to know the more interesting people on the island and to be able to entertain.
"Yo' just like yo' mother," said Verbena, "she liked havin' parties, too."
Lucien and several specially hired natives were repainting the living room. Lucien had never mentioned that particular night to Angel and she had never mentioned it to him. She thought about it occasionally in her fantasies when she found herself missing Damien more than she had expected or even wanted to.
Angel selected a light yellow paint for the walls and white for the ceiling, the shutters and the woodwork. The heavy Oriental carpets had been taken up and put into storage, and she planned to have the mahogany floor refinished and highly polished. She wanted to achieve an open, airy effect and get rid of the dark somber mood which had pervaded the house ever since her mother had left. Her father had the house redone, obliterating the citrus colors that had been her mother's, and now her, favorites. Angel was restoring the house from memory, trying to achieve the same graceful, friendly atmosphere which her mother had achieved. She got rid of the heavy, ponderous furniture and replaced it with rattan pieces fashioned by island craftsmen and painted white by Lucien and his helpers.
Angel tried to keep busy but her thoughts kept returning to sex. At first she longed for Damien and then she just longed for a substitute. She thought about satiating herself with the silver handled hairbrush, but after her varied experiences, she knew that that wouldn't be enough.
That particular day, Verbena was shopping in the city and Angel was alone in the house with the workers. She was having Lucien carry some of the discarded furniture down to the basement of the house. She went ahead of him to direct him where to put it. One section of the cellar contained her father's enormous wine cellar and the other section was used for storage. The weather was extremely hot, but the cellar was as cool as the underside of a banana leaf. Lucien struggled with a heavy arm chair, and when he set it down, he sat down himself on it to catch his breath.
"Yo' mind if I get myself a drink, Miss Angel?"
"Not at all, Lucien."
The servant padded across the cold cement floor to the sink, turned on the faucet and stuck his head under, letting it splash over the back of his neck and down his shoulders. Then he opened his mouth and drank from the faucet. Angel stared at him, wanting to run her hands over his smooth, muscular back. Lucien was wearing his usual white cotton pants and as he bent to drink the water, the fabric strained across his high, firm buttocks. He straightened up and splashed some of the water over his chest and arms.
"You don't have to stop there, Lucien, if you're really warm."
He glanced at his mistress and knew what she meant. He undid the string at the waist of his pants and stepped out of them. Angel focused her attention on his cock and balls. He spread his legs apart and splashed the cool water over his crotch. Then he turned around and took handfuls of it and let it run down over his backside.
"Dat feels good, Miss Angel."
She walked over to him, took handfuls of water in her small hands and emptied them over his flat abdomen, watching the water run over his curly pubic hair, down the shaft of his cock, and drip off the tip.
"Yo' look mighty hot, Miss Angel. Yo' want me to splash you down, too?"
Angel nodded her head and began unbuttoning the front of her dress. It was a simple cotton print and unbuttoned all the way down the front. When she reached her waist, Lucien's hands stretched out and took over undoing the rest of the buttons. Angel slid the dress off her body and stepped out of her panties.
"Um-um," Lucien said eyeing the smooth white curves of her body. He cupped his great hands under the water and spilled the cooling liquid over Angel's body. It ran between her breasts, over her abdomen and tickled her cunt lips. He poured some on her shoulders and it streamed down her back and into the crease of her buttocks. It was a delightful sensation. Lucien filled his two palms once again and held them full of water under Angel's breasts and then he spread his fingers and let the liquid dribble down her flesh. He wrapped his strong brown fingers around her globes and massaged her nipples between his fingers. They were hard and rigid. He leaned forward and sucked on one of them, moving his tongue back and forth over the tip. His other hand slid down her flattened stomach and came to rest en her pussy mound. Then, using two fingers, he parted her cunt lips and slid his middle finger inside. Angel was wet with anticipation, and his finger went in easily.
"Yo' wants me to pleasure yo', Miss Angel?"
"Oh, yes, Lucien, yes."
He glanced around the room for something for them to lie on. The cold concrete floor would be too uncomfortable. There was a long, low table nearby. He wrapped his hands around Angel's narrow waist, picked her up, carried her a few feet and set her on the table. The table was low enough so that her cunt was just at the right level of his cock. He spread her legs apart and lifted them up so that her calves rested on his shoulders. Then he pressed the head of his hard cock against her labial folds. Angel reached down and, using her fingers, parted her cunt lips for him, allowing him to enter easily.
Lucien pushed and grunted and swiveled his hips, fighting to get deeper into her delectable cunt. He felt her tight lips sucking and strangling at his prick. Angel opened up and he went crashing into the depths of her cunt all the way up to the balls. Lucien reared his body back, pulling his cock almost all the way out and slamming it back in. Angel let out a gurgling cry of delight and clasped her hands around the edge of the table to brace herself against the slamming of his cock. Lucien ground his teeth together and began a smooth fucking rhythm. His large hands toyed with the twin globes of her ass as he pumped in and out of her hot slit.
"Give it to me, Lucien. Oh, give it to me!" Angel cried out.
His fingers probed at the opening of her asshole, but it was tight and unrelenting. He lifted his hand to his mouth and spit in it and put his hand back against her ass letting the saliva lubricate her hole. Little by little he was able to get his long thick finger imbedded into her ass and he finger-fucked her asshole as he plowed her cunt with his rampaging cock. Angel pushed her pelvis forward to get every bit of his prick into her. Angel, who had been so pent up and frustrated, went into her first orgasm. She banged the back of her head against the table as Lucien worked hard to catch up with her.
"Fuck me, Lucien," she screamed. "Fuck me!"
He continued jabbing his finger in and out of her asshole as his cock plummeted her cunt. His heavy, sperm-swollen balls slapped against her backside.
"I'm comin', Miss Angel, I'm comin'!"
"Give it to me! Shoot it in all the way, Lucien! Give me all of your come!"
When the first jet of his sperm seared the inside of her cunt passage, Angel squealed with delight.
"Oh, that's it' Fill me up—fill me all the way up with that juice!"
Semen gushed forth, overflowed her cunt and ran between her ass cheeks and onto his finger, which was fucking her ass. The lubrication of the come made her ass open up and he slid another finger inside and began spearing her hole with two fingers.
"Oh, Lucien, pull out of my cunt and jam it up my ass. Keep it hard and fuck me up the ass, too!"
His cock was still shooting when he pulled it out of her cunt He withdrew his fingers and slid his cock easily into her anal passage.
"Keep it going, Lucien, keep it going. I'm going to come again!"
He moved her buttocks higher so that he could get his cock in all the way and continued his strokes. Angel squealed and locked her legs around the back of his neck. She thrashed with total abandon, now in the grip of her orgasm.
"I'm coming. I'm coming again," she screamed hotly.
Lucien pulled his cock out of her ass and jammed his face into her come-smeared cunt and began lapping up the mixture of their juices, hers blending with his, sweet and spicy. He continued lapping until he had licked all of his own come out of her cunt. When he finished, Angel lay on the table, a quivering mass of flesh. Finally she was able to sit up and Lucien helped her to her feet.
"I suppose we had better get back upstairs," she said quietly.
"Yes, I suppose we better, Miss Angel."
The two of them rinsed off at the sink and got dressed.
"When yo' think all dis redecorating goin' to be finished, Miss Angel?"
"I would think by the end of the month, Lucien. Why?"
"I gonna' have to leave den, Miss Angel."
"Leave? You mean leave Cinnamon Hall?"
"Yes, ma'am. I gonna' take my mama back home to Port-au-Prince. She thinks she dyin' and she wants to go back to Haiti."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Does your mother live with you, Lucien?"
"No, she lives in de swamp. She Maman Lala, de Obeah woman."
"Now isn't that a coincidence," replied Angel. "I didn't know."
Later that week Angel got a letter from Damien.
"Dearest Angel: Things are going smoothly here. I like your uncle and aunt very much. They treat me like a son. I will probably have to stay two weeks longer to learn everything about the business that I can. Philippe took me to the jewelry cutter's yesterday. I never imagined it was such a precise art. I don't know how I can bear two more weeks without seeing you. Angel, I miss you more than I can say. My days, of course, are filled with work, but my nights are agonizingly empty. How's the redecorating at Cinnamon Hall coming? By the way, I bought you a present. I hope you like it. I'll see you as soon as possible. Love, Damien."
Love, Damien, Angel said to herself. How easily he had written it and how easily she had said it. She wondered, once again, if she did love him or was it, as they say, absence making the heart grow fonder? She hoped he would be back for the Dimanche Gras, the yearly carnival that was held in Montego Bay, signifying the start of the tourist season.
Everything at Cinnamon Hall was practically finished and Angel was immensely pleased with the result. But she knew deep down she wasn't redecorating her house just for herself. She had wanted to please Damien, too. She was surprised when she received an invitation in the mail to the Governor's Ball, which was to be held on the first night of Dimanche Gras. It was to be a costume ball and Angel was in a quandary on how to go.
She was driving into Montego Bay that afternoon when she passed the ruins of Rose Hall, which was perhaps the best known great house in Jamaica. Not because of its great size or magnificence, but because of the strange stories connected with the life of one of its former mistresses who was known as the White Witch of Jamaica, a notorious Mrs. Palmer whose three husbands all died under curious circumstances. Mrs. Palmer was skilled at Obeah magic and, so legend had it, put a spell on a young girl who was married to her black overseer. The girl died hideously and Mrs. Palmer took the overseer as her lover.
That's how I'll go, Angel said to herself. I'll go as the White Witch of Rose Hall. After doing her shopping in Montego Bay, she stopped by the archives to look up some information on the notorious woman. She found in an ancient, crumbling book an original sketch of Mrs. Palmer which had been done by a native artist. It was primitive, but the lines were clear and Angel was able to see the details of her dress.
Angel stared at the drawing. Strange. The face, though hard and cruel, somehow looked like her own. Yes, there was a definite resemblance. Well, she thought, that is even better for the masquerade.
She asked the attendant for a sheet of paper and a pencil and she did her own drawing, modifying the riding habit of Mrs. Palmer somewhat. Mrs. Palmer wore a derby hat which sported a bit of black veiling that swept around either side of the hat and fell down the back about three feet. The riding outfit itself was black, probably silk, and consisted of two pieces—a long sleeved jacket that buttoned almost to the chin and was pinched in at the waist. It fell just below the hips. And a full skirt made fuller by several slips that flared at the bottom. Underneath the jacket, there was a white-laced blouse that peeked out at the neck and cuffs. Angel eliminated the blouse in her version and changed the jacket so that there was a good deal of décolletage. She made the skirt tighter around the hips and accentuated the flare. She took her sketch and went to Hattie's to ask her advice about finding a seamstress. Hattie was surprised at Angel's choice of costume, but made no comment on it. She said that she could order the material and the hat for her from New York City, have it flown down special delivery and it would be there within two days. Angel thanked her for her trouble.
Hattie replied, "No trouble at all, Angel. After all, you've become one of my best customers. When the material comes in, I'll call the girl and have her bring it to the house with her. And you can pay her according to the time she spends on it."
As Angel was coming out of the shop, she ran into Terry, Damien's long-haired, blond friend who worked as maitre'd at the Maison Fleurs.
"Good afternoon, Angel. Is Damien still in Paris?"
"Yes, he is," she replied.
"Why don't you come into the club tonight? Rexall has gotten together a new act. It should be lots of fun. Now that the tourists have started to trail in, it should be a good crowd."
"Maybe I'll do that, Terry. What time are the shows?"
"Nine-thirty and eleven-thirty."
"I don't think I can make the one at nine-thirty, but I'll try for the eleven-thirty one."
"Good. I'll hold a table for you."
When Angel got back to Cinnamon Hall, she wrote a letter to Damien urging him to try to make it back for the Dimanche Gras. Then she showed Verbena a picture of the sketch of Mrs. Palmer and told her how she planned to go to the Ball.
"Amassi, yo' shouldn't be temptin' de gods by goin' dressed as dat evil woman."
"Well, I think she's a perfectly marvelous character to go dressed as to the masquerade ball."
Verbena knew better than to argue with her headstrong mistress, but decided to take a trip to Maman Lala just in case.
After a late supper with Verbena, Angel decided to take a nap before getting ready to go to Maison Fleurs. She got up shortly after nine-thirty. After showering, she perfumed herself with Angelique and got into another new dress, an emerald green silk cocktail dress that was sleeveless, with a neckline that plunged practically to her navel. She stopped at Verbena's room, this time telling her she was going out.
"With no man?" Verbena asked incredulously.
"That's right."
After Angel left, Verbena said aloud, "I wish dat Miss Angel settle herself down. Maybe when Damien get back." Then her face brightened. "When I goes to Maman Lala, I get her to make me a batch of Marryin' Drops. Can't have dem two runnin' away from each other. Dey in love, even if dey don't know it."
When Angel arrived at Maison Fleurs, Terry seated her at a small table near the stage. She ordered a drink and noticed that the three people at the next table were staring in her direction. The man was slender and very tan. He wore his black hair cropped extremely short and had a moustache and beard that was beautifully trimmed. His two companions were both young girls. Angel thought they were the most attractive women she had ever seen. They were both tall. One was a redhead with a full mane of bright red hair and large blue eyes. The other girl was quite dark. She had thick, shoulder-length black hair and her skin was olive toned. The man toasted Angel and asked:
"Are you all alone?"
"Yes, I am."
"Please join us."
"All right," replied Angel.
He pulled out an extra chair and seated her. Then he introduced himself. His name was Ryan Mac Donald. The redheaded girl's name was Kate Malone and the dark haired girl was Lucia Bartoluzzi. He was a photographer from Glamour magazine and the two girls were models. They were down in Montego Bay shooting a magazine layout featuring swimsuits.
The show started and Rexall Fleurs was outrageous. If anything, his show was even more risque. Nicole sang a song about poppers. Angel turned to MacDonald and whispered, "What are poppers?"
He smiled and replied, "I'll explain later."
Several more rounds of drinks appeared during the show and by the time it was over, Angel felt a trifle high. The photographer asked Angel if she would like to join them for a night cap at the beach house they had rented. She agreed. Angel followed them in her car. The beach house was one of the most expensive on the island. It was a large modern affair, complete with its own private beach. Inside, MacDonald suggested they take some blankets and go down to the beach. He went to the refrigerator and got several bottles of white wine and a small yellow box. Angel stared at it.
"These are poppers, Angel. You can try one when we get down on the beach."
"What do you do with it?"
"You sniff it. It gives you a rush."
"It's not dangerous, is it?"
"Not unless you have a heart condition. Certainly not at your age."
The girls spread out the beach towels and the four of them sat down. The photographer opened the white wine and they passed it from mouth to mouth.
"Why don't we all take a swim," suggested MacDonald.
"That's a good idea," said Lucia, scrambling to her feet. She stood up and stripped out of her cocktail dress.
MacDonald took off his clothes. Angel stared at his large uncircumcised cock. Kate took off her clothes and urged Angel to do the same. In a few minutes, all four of them were rushing into the surf. After they frolicked in the water, they lay down on the blankets and rolled around drying themselves. MacDonald opened another bottle of wine and passed it around.
"Care to try one of these poppers, Angel?"
"Sure. If you all do."
He cracked one open and handed it to her.
"Just sniff deeply."
Angel did as he said and a sudden, hot feeling rushed to her head. She felt delightfully giddy, laughed and lay back on the blanket. She cried, "I'm spinning. I'm spinning."
She felt MacDonald's mouth over hers. She'd never been kissed by a man with a moustache and beard before. It felt delightful, but when he moved his face away, Kate bent down and kissed her on the mouth. Strange, Angel thought to herself. It didn't feel any different than being kissed by a man. Then Lucia followed suit. .Lucia and Kate moved to Angel's breasts. While they sucked on her nipples, they broke another popper. Mac-Donald got between Angel's legs, brushing his furry mouth against her pubic hair. His hair stung and tickled the tender folds of her labia. He parted her vagina and pressed his open lips against her cunt lips. His teeth sought out her clitoris and he began chewing on it. Angel groaned with pleasure as he chewed on her clitoral bud and the two girls chewed on her hard nipples.
Then they switched positions. The two girls broke another popper and scooted down to Angel's crotch. MacDonald straddled her face and pressed his hard prick against her mouth. Angel opened her mouth and took his cock between her lips. The two girls lapped at Angel's cunt simultaneously. MacDonald put a popper under Angel's nose. She relaxed completely and took him all the way in, right up to the balls. He began bucking his hips back and forth and thrusting his hard cock down her throat. Angel was delighted to find herself the center of everybody's attention. Then suddenly MacDonald withdrew from her mouth and got off.
Kate then straddled Angel's face and pressed her pussy against Angel's wet lips. Angel opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue and began lapping at Kate's soft, velvety folds. Lucia got on her hands and knees and pressed her face against Angel's cunt and continued lapping at Angel's moist passage. MacDonald came in behind the dark-haired girl and jammed his throbbing prick into her cunt. More poppers were broken and everybody began working toward a frenzied orgasm. Kate squeezed her thighs against Angel's cheeks and cried out. "I'm going to come."
Angel lapped at Kate's cunt and a strange taste began coating her tongue. She was so excited she went into orgasm herself and Lucia sucked her cunt with wild abandon. At the same time MacDonald began to empty his hot load up Lucia's cunt. Then he pulled out and turned Lucia over on her back. Kate and he took turns lapping the hot juices out of her sticky hole.
Kate ran back to the house and got another bottle of wine and a double-headed dildo. She took a sniff of popper and inserted one end into her cunt. Lucia lay down and inserted the other end in hers. Then the two girls began pumping wildly on the artificial prick. Watching them, MacDonald and Angel got excited again. MacDonald rolled on top of Angel and mounted her, pressing his stiff cock against her still slick opening. He slid inside her and began fucking her wildly. Angel wrapped her legs around the small of his back. The two girls started watching.
"Fuck her," they chanted, "Fuck her good, Ryan. Fuck her hard."
Then Ryan wrapped his arms around Angel's waist and they turned over so that she was sitting on her knees over him. Angel began moving her pelvis, completely engulfing his long cock. The girls disengaged themselves from the dildo and got between MacDonald's legs, pushed them as far apart as they possibly could, and sucked on his balls. Now Angel's cunt slid up and down on his stiff prick. They passed Angel and Ryan another popper and they started fucking furiously. Angel rammed herself up and down on his stiff rod and Ryan ground his buttocks up to meet her. Ryan started shooting. His come ran out of Angel's cunt, down the base of his prick and over his balls. The two girls were waiting to lap it up.
It was four o'clock in the morning when Angel got back to Cinnamon Hall. After taking a shower, she went to bed and was surprised to find that after her extensive sexual activities she was still yearning for Damien.