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 at the endings of each chapter.
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 can sit back each day and read a new chapter -- read on.
*
The Mayor stood on the front porch of Abigail house straightening his tie, checking himself out making sure his suit was brushed down and then wiping his face with his handkerchief, clearing the sheen of sweat off of the round overweight jowls and cheeks. Raising his hand he knocked on the door and waited for the door to open. Earlier in his office he had picked up signs that he thought was Abigail flirting with him, but he was unsure. She seemed to be subtly coming on to him, but he knew she was having an affair with Rory, and he was also aware that she had played that sucker Jake before that, and now she seemed to be coming on to himself.
Maybe she thought she could play him, but he knew that his Mama didn't raise a stupid man, no Sir. Mama Gaudet had raised a canny man, a clever and careful man who knew how to manipulate and get what he wanted.
A winner.
And what he wanted was a good poke in Miss Abigail, and see what she was up to at the same time. Because he had an inkling that the young woman was up to something and he would play along if it would get him what he wanted.
The door opened and the sweet smell of roses wafted out along with the sound of the radio playing Cole Porters 'Night and Day'. Abigail was dressed in a light summer blue dress, her arms bare, and the beginnings of the swell of her breasts visible in the scoop neck of the light cotton bodice. Claude stepped over the threshold and through the door, removing his hat and murmured, "Miss Abigail."
Stepping back she smiled and replied, "Thank you for coming.......would you like an iced tea?"
"Sounds fine......" and he walked further into the hall and followed Abigail into a light and bright front room where a large wooden ceiling fan moved the warm air around and large vases of blood red roses gave off their sweet smelling scent into the room.
"What was it you wanted to discuss Miss Abigail.....what is it that's troublin' you?"
Turning her head to look provocatively over her shoulder as she poured the iced tea from the pre prepared jug, she asked him, "Claude.....I can call you Claude?"
"Yes Missy....Claude's just fine."
Turning she handed him the tall glass of drink. "Claude, why don't you take off your jacket and get comfortable. It sure is hot today. Sit down and make yourself comfortable....." and she took her own glass and sat down on the chair opposite where the Mayor sat, who after placing his glass on the table, and placing his now removed jacket on the easy chairs back, pulled out a cigar from his vest pocket and started the process of lighting it.
"Claude......I have always admired you.......you're a powerful man.......a clever and commanding man. I'm kind of in a difficult position and I need to be able to ask for your help......"
Pulling on his cigar, great clouds of smoke rising up to join the wooden fan swirling around attached to the ceiling he sat back and relaxing raised on eyebrow, inviting her to carry on.
"It's Rory....."
Raising his other eyebrow he waited.
"Well......" and she took a sip of her drink then placed it down on the coffee table alongside his, "I'm worried......"
In the protracted silence that the Mayor deliberately gave her she continued, "As you know, Rory and I have been....close.......very close......and he has confided in me some things......things I think you would be at an advantage to know."
Getting up and going around the table to stand next to the Mayor, she then sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him, as if she was about to tell a secret and didn't want anyone else to hear. Leaning forward she placed her hand on his knee, the scoop of her bodice falling forward allowing Claude a deeper view of her breasts. "I'm scared......no one realises the truth about Rory.....his temper......his drinking......I thought he was different than he turned out to be......he's so brash.....talks too much.....is rough......not like you......I feel I could trust you.....a man like you that everyone looks up to.....so cultured....a real gentleman." And her hand squeezed his thigh gently.
Claude felt himself harden, his cock twitching behind the material of his flies.
"When he drinks he says things......like about what he has done on behalf of yourself and how you framed Jake."
The Mayor cleared his throat. "Seems to me you were a little bitty tied up with what we all did to Jake......you're no innocent Miss Abigail."
Sliding down onto her knees between the Mayors legs she slid her hands up both his thighs. "No Claude....not a complete innocent....but you know I like a man with power.....a man with style....a man with experience......Rory is young and stupid......he's talking too much.....has plans to rise higher in this town.....but he's no competition for you....."
Her fingers started to unbutton his flies and Claude's arms spread out each side of himself along the arms of the chair, and as her eyes bore into his, the cigar between his fat fingers now forgotten, "I need protection of a man like you from Rory......I need a man that can fulfil me and what I want.......I can give you sweet release, tell you what Rory is up to.....what he is saying and to whom......" and she lowered her head down into his crotch and with her small hand lifted his now hard cock to her mouth.
Claude's head dropped back, eyes rolling in his head with pleasure as her hot wet mouth slid up and down his rock hard rod, her tongue swirling over him, and the suction in her mouth pulling him further into the perfect cavern of her warm wet mouth giving him a blow job better than he'd ever had. Better than the ones the cheap whores over in the next Parish gave him on the odd times he went over there away from prying eyes, or the non existent ones his dried up wife of twenty years never gave him, or ever had or would.