Lulu And Dax Ch 02

Chapter 3

Angela sat her glass down in anger, cracking it against the marble table. She was tired of always ending up on the losing side. When would it be her turn to come out on top?

Another one of her business deals had fallen through, costing her a fortune. She paced the floor of her lavish New Orleans apartment, her stiletto heels clacking back and forth across the marble floor.

Sitting down heavily, she began sifting through the facts for the millionth time wracking her brain for a way forward.

I tried buying the land, but it was under a private land trust. Dax’s uncle Junius was and still is the caretaker, has been for decades, he flatly refused to disclose who the owners are. He became downright cantankerous when asked about it. And now all of a sudden I find out it’s hers.

The oil is crucial. She holds the rights to it. Fuck - there’s even a passage of language reinterpreted as modern day mineral rights something about ‘in perpetuity’. Meaning they own what’s on the land as well as what’s below it.

This is land has sat empty since the 60’s. Lou has never even been down to look at it. Dax had her with his family in the city. I saw her the other year down in the Quarter on a Fat Tuesday, happily shaking her pretty brown pregnant self on a balcony as we went by on our family float. I kept eyes on her after that out of curiosity. At the time I didn’t know we had more than Dax in common. They’d kept to the city. Dax so happy to have her there, didn’t bring her outside of it.

Why am I even sweating this? It’s not like she’s in Louisiana? She’s living it up in the big city and not even here. As long as she stays up there I can do what I need to do.

“I can do this.” She uttered her mantra aloud to the silent room.

A sudden knock startled her out of her thoughts. She jumped up, smoothing her silk dress and approached the door. She peered through the peephole, recognizing the steely-eyed form of David Pratt on the other side. Angela plastered a smile on her face and opened the door.

“David,” she purred, “What brings you here?”

“Business,” he replied gruffly, stepping inside. His head swiveled as he took in the opulence of her apartment with a cold glance.

Despite his attitude, Angela felt a sliver of relief wash over her as she closed the door behind him. If there was one person who could help her turn around this mess it was David. He too had a bone to pick with Lou Wilde.

David made himself comfortable on the plush velvet couch, crossing his legs casually as he perused the documents Angela had left scattered on her coffee table.

The room was quiet, save for the metronome ticking of an antique grandfather clock. Angela watched as David's stormy eyes examined each page intently. He was methodical and ruthless, his silence telling more than words ever could.

Finally, after what felt like hours of meticulous study, he looked up, his expression unreadable. Angela anxiously tapped her foot, a sign of her naked impatience. “Well?” she demanded.

He leaned back on the couch, interlocking his fingers as he rested them on his taut stomach. He pinned her with a harsh gaze.

“The situation isn't as bleak as you think. There are loopholes in the law that we can exploit.”

She went limp with relief, closing her eyes and letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. “I knew I could count on you,” she cooed and walked over to sit beside him. She reached for his hand, which he promptly yanked away.

He glared at her, causing her smile to falter slightly. “I'm only here because our interests coincide.”

“David,” Angela protested with a coy smile, tracing a finger along his strong jawline, “surely we can mix business with a little pleasure?” Her tall curves were tantalizing.

David's mask of impassivity slipped for a moment before it solidified again. Before she could react, he stood and headed for the door, pausing to look back at her.

“Wrong.” His voice was stern as he opened the door. “Our interests align, for now. Don't mistake that for affection.”

Frowning sullenly Angela bristled at his curt dismissal. But she kept her thoughts to herself and held her tongue as she watched him leave. As the door clicked shut, the magnitude of what she was up against truly dawned on her. Involving David may have been a risky move, but it was a necessary one.

Her mind whirred as she thought over David's advice, trying to figure out her next steps in securing the oil rights. She had to tread carefully, especially with Lou Wilde in the picture. One false step could mean disaster, and Angela wasn't about to lose.

Meanwhile, across town, Lulu and Dax had returned to their sprawling brownstone oasis. They were enjoying the peace and quiet after the intensity of the evening. The adrenaline from her confrontation with Angela was still pumping through Lulu’s veins. She thrived in such situations, finding a strange sense of satisfaction in protecting what was hers. Dax watched his wife with a mixture of admiration and concern.

“Think we’ve seen the last of her?” he asked, draping an arm around Lulu’s waist.

“Angela? I doubt it.” Lulu replied knowing full well Angela wouldn't back down easily.

“But tonight…” Her voice trailed off as she swiped an errant lock of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering. “Tonight we’ve more important things to do.”

She gave that slow sleepy-eyed blink as she looked up at him, her eyes dark and glinting with promise. Dax’s heart began to trip.

The idea that this smart, feisty, take-no-shit woman was his wife was the sexiest thing in the world. His cock was already hard just at that thought.

Kissing his dimple, Lulu leaned in close, pressing those soft breasts against his chest, touching him, making him crazy. He found himself invaded and surrounded by the spicy heated scent of her swirling around him

She had a glow about her and her skin was warm, glistening caramel. That mouth, those divine lips still decked out in blood-red lipstick, full, pouty and voluptuous. Her mouth . . .

Seeming to read my mind, Lou dropped to her knees. “Let’s see how my lipstick looks on you.”

I almost mauled myself in my haste to get my fly open and push my pants and boxers down.

She took me firmly but gently in hand before rubbing her soft brown cheek against it and purring. Opening her mouth, she slowly swirled, curled and rolled her tongue around me as I slid into her hot mouth, slowly pushing deeper until I was buried all the way down her throat. Her eyes watered a little, but she didn't tap out. I held my own while she got her breathing under control.

My hands trembled as they slid into her hair and I began to use her mouth. Watching those lips stretched around my dick, my tip just entering her throat over and over with her eyes locked on mine the whole time. It was utterly filthy. I stroked her cheek. “That’s right. Take it all.” I encouraged. “Oh, my bébé sucks a mean dick.”

Moaning lightly her eyes almost fluttered closed. She looked drunk with pleasure. I could feel her throat constrict around me as she hummed in response, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. One of her hands softly kneading my balls had me teetering on the edge. My grip tightened in her hair as I surged forward, lost in a sea of sensation.

“Lulu,” I breathed out, pulling back reluctantly with a groan. I needed more than just the sweet ecstasy of her mouth.

Standing upright, I pulled her up to meet my gaze. “Upstairs, right now. I need to properly fuck you.”

Lulu gives me a half-lidded smirk, before drawing me into an ardent kiss and pulling away to saunter upstairs. Watching the compelling sway of those two compact globes moving under the clingy material of her dress as she slowly ascended the staircase was the most delicious torture. Not wanting to wait a second more than necessary I snatched her up.

Once inside our bedroom, I watched as Lulu let her dress slowly slither to the floor, maintaining eye contact all the while, she reached back to take off her bra.

Her smile was wicked as she put her hand down the front of her panties. “You want some of this?”

My throat went dry as I nodded. She slid those panties down and let them drop.

This. This is why I tie her up, this is why. I’m ready to blow and I’m not even inside her.

And she knows it. Which is mildly infuriating.

Coming over she slowly straddled me, taking my breath away as she took me in hand and inched down. I hold her hips, forcing little gasps from her as I push up, teasing, digging deeper as I lift and lower her onto me. The exquisite feel of every muscle of that beautifully tight pussy squeezing me makes me shudder.

“Holy shit, you are the most spectacular fuck,” I groan as she rides my dick, rolling her hips in faster and faster circles, swirling around the paleness of me. The ghost of a single finger across her taut clit is all it takes to bring her to a high shrieking climax, her pussy clenching rhythmically with violent contractions as her thighs seize and shake.

Finishing with a whimper she collapses into my chest with a shiver, trying to hide her face from me.

“Hey, you,” Dax murmured, “Don't hide,” he whispered.

Lulu let out a shaky breath and buried her face deeper, clinging even tighter. So cute how shy she still was sometimes.

Though I was still hard, it was wonderful to simply hold her and let my fingers trace the contours of her spine, “I love you, woman,” I said before lifting her chin gently and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too,” she pressed her lips to mine. We fell into kissing and before I knew it I was rolling her to her back and burying my face in her chest to feast.

Her whimpers and short gasps resumed as I tweaked her nipples with my teeth. All her little sounds just about kill me every time. I sat up and wedging my knees under her thighs I finally thrust back into her, burying myself to the hilt. Look at how she stretches around me: tight little brown and pink pussy spread open.

Dax paused for a moment buried inside her, savoring the smooth silky fit , flexing his cock over and over until he heard her moan and felt her pussy tighten anew as he began again to pound her.

“Take it, Lulu,” Dax grunted. “Take that dick. Scream for it. Let me hear you.”

She loved the dirty talk. Wetter and wetter she grew for him prompting him to fuck her ever harder until she came again, and then a third time, thrusting until her pussy clamped down on him with a scream squirting all over as he came inside her. They both collapsed, satiated and exhausted.

Chapter 4

Freshly back from the Cook Islands or as Dax called them ‘The Crook Islands’, Lou massaged her tired neck and shoulders.

She chuckled to herself. He criticized her big time about about asset protection and threw crazy mad shade.

“You just do whatever you want to don’t you? So you’re hiding money? In a shell Corp?” He grunted.

“Well duh?! Of course I am. It’d be ridiculous to let the government exploit me for the sake of ‘integrity’ besides, why do you think corporations are identified as a person? Because there’s always somebody behind it. I am somebody.” She’d laughed at her own joke.

But I'll be damned if my husband wasn't as happy as all hell that I did what I did for him by squirreling away that money. Sure enough, an old tech “friend” tried to come after him, claiming that Dax had stolen some of his code. He hired a lawyer, but there was nothing to be had as the money is safely locked away in a trust hidden inside an LLC.

It pleased her no small amount to be able to parrot his own words back at him, ‘You can’t always predict, but you can always prepare.’ His exact words every time he went into survivalist prepper overdrive in anticipation of a forecasted weather event.

“Really Lulu,” he said with a deeply aggrieved sigh.

“Yep, I’m petty like that.” I gave him a kiss to take the sting out.

And now with this latest trip I’ve also secured the Louisiana property and put protections in place I am curious about the land and its origins.

“Now let’s see what these journals are about.”

‘To see the present you have to look to the past,’ MM had said cryptically.

As she read the entries, Lulu became fascinated with her family's origins. She'd always thought of herself as uniquely Lulu, not another generational native daughter. But this was a new self-knowledge she couldn't ignore or dismiss.

Although she was in the habit of treating the brutal exploitation of slavery and its myriad consequences as an abstract concept, she didn't deny it. Like so many of her modern counterparts, this attitude was an act of psychological preservation, lest she be crushed under the weight of 400 years and counting of oppression.

It was a different story to read something real and visceral and personal. An actual slave narrative from an ancestor. It was as fascinating as it was revolting.

One of Old Man Wildeaux's great fears was insurrection. While he wasn't above using collective violence and other strong-arm tactics to maintain regimented factory-like conditions, and strict planning to enforce ruthless productivity while maintaining control and maximizing profit, those who yielded to authority or exceeded their work quotas were rewarded: extra clothing, pay, extra food, liquor.

These incentives were counterbalanced by the infliction of pain and emotional trauma for acts of disobedience and/or sabotage; whippings, confinement in stocks, leg irons, and, in the most severe cases, family separation by auction.

But no matter how much his fellow plantation peers encouraged, he refused to subject the enslaved to burning, rape, and physical mutilation. He did not want the stains of such atrocities on his soul. While his punishments for disobedience and sabotage were severe, they were meted out by his own hand. He was considered almost fair in his treatment. He saw it as a delicate dance between owner and slave.

He had freed a quarter of his slaves by allowing them to buy their freedom and remain on the land for a fee.

Wow, a benevolent overlord thought Lulu as she read on with pinched lips of Iris planting and picking cotton even while pregnant because the plantation was not considered very large at 300 acres with only a contingent of 65 slaves and every hand was needed to bring in the harvest and she had a deft and agile hand and while the average slave picked 150 pounds a day she often picked 300 pounds of cotton a day and once even 400 pounds.

Lou shook her head and read on of all the doings of plantation life. Before too long she came across something particularly horrific which left her slumped in her leather chair, arms hanging limp at her sides, gazing out her home office window in a daze, shaken by what she had just read. One of her ancestors had been owned and raped by one of Dax’s.

There was a recording of the incident:

August 7, 1786: I tried to be alert, but being heavily pregnant, I moved slowly. Myself and several others noticed as he stilled on horseback seemingly struck by the shape of her figure, standing like a bud in the middle of a cotton field. And when she removed her pink tignon to wipe the sweat from her face and neck, revealing a glory of tight curls, she bloomed, her face the center of the most perfect flower. I watched the whole event in astonishment and complete helpless horror as this man took one look at my child and almost trampled a line of workers as he charged forward on horseback, snatched her up and bore her off into the woods.

Fia was new to the fields, I had tried to keep her well-hidden, things happened all too often, as I'd seen too many times. Our family is fortunate to work for one of the better plantation owners. At least a third of the slaves have managed to work enough to earn their freedom. My husband was so close to having enough money for the three of us to be free when he broke his leg. Fia came to the fields to make up for the work her father could no longer do. At 15 years old She is a sturdy, womanly and determined little thing and it hurt her heart to see me work so hard and not be able to help. So she had begged and begged until I relented. I should have said no. My daughter is too beautiful. So pretty that we had to stop attending Congo Square on Sundays. Her dancing had drawn too much attention. Her father and I had tried to concentrate on finding a husband for our FiFi. Old Man Wildeaux respected the sanctity of marriage, and encouraged it amongst his slaves. Her father had a man in mind, but then this happened.

I’d warned my daughter to be careful and stay close and above all keep her head covered. The last thing I needed was the mistress of the plantation having a fit because her husband’s head turned.

Admittedly, while Old Man Wildeaux looked his fill, to my and everyone else’s knowledge, he’d never touched a soul on his plantation.

I never thought it’d be the soft spoken, kind, gentle giant of a son who’d do such a thing. At 17 Alexandre was tall, quiet, and serious. Always quick to lend a hand. He himself had driven the wagon to take my husband to have his leg set. So it did not make sense that he’d taken my child and kept her - for 8 days. He’d bought her back covered in bruises and bite marks. Nubile and ripe, she quickly caught with child and the horror of it was her physical and mental undoing. She was unable to carry to term. Him turning up here to visit her and trying to court her after brutalizing her didn’t help matters.

Fia’s father was so wracked with guilt and impotent rage that he locked himself away with a cask of raw rum liquor over the course of two months before dying of alcohol poisoning.

The Old Man fearing further harm to Fia’s mind, and knowing Alexandre’s presence would only cause more pain, sent his son up north to be with family and forbid further contact. He personally made sure any letters to Fia from Pennsylvania were immediately burned.

Lulu shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as she read about the aftermath of the rape. Old Man Wildeaux, Alexandre's father, had been deeply ashamed and determined to make things right. He immediately signed the emancipation papers.

He then set aside 30 of his 300 acres as tithe for Fia's family and drew up papers to transfer ownership. Iris added several conditions, the most important being that the land and everything it produced both above and below, would be passed down in perpetuity to the first girl child of each generation, and that all remaining generations born on their land would be born free.

Knowing what happened after most masters died, having given verbal promises and their white wives took over and the promises came to naught, she asked that it be witnessed and signed and agreed to by his wife and that there be a public record at the courthouse.

This is in 1786 and was pre-civil war mind you. Dealings like this were unheard of. Lulu chuckled wryly. She got that lawyer gene honest and square.

Lulu couldn’t help but feel a flicker of awe at Old Man Wildeaux. It wasn’t often a slave owner would go against societal norms and do what was right for a slave. The guilt must have weighed heavy.

Dax’s family and her family. All these years. And now she, a black woman, and he, a white man, were husband and wife. Honestly, she wondered how she’d even be able to look at him.

Aloud she said “and look at that, however many years later that particular task was completed after all. She thought of the single-mindedness with which Dax had pursued her. Junie and Annelle and now Lily and Max. What was this? Our families? Those men and our women. It’s strange and sick, is what it is.

Dizzy and reeling from the horror of it all, she shouted aloud in the empty office.

“Focus Lou. There will be plenty of time to freak out about this later. We have more immediate matters to rectify,” she coached.