The Rescue 13

The doorbell rang.

Julia looked up and wondered aloud to her husband, Caleb, "Who in the world could that be at nine on a Saturday morning? Sit still; I'll get it."

Julia and Caleb had finished a late breakfast of quiche and fruit on a warm, Biloxi spring morning. They were now leisurely perusing the New Orleans Times-Picayune over cups of fragrant coffee. Julia rose and went to the front door. Caleb heard a brief, muted conversation from the front of the house while he browsed an article about the season prospects for the Atlanta Braves.

Julia and Caleb met at Ol' Miss, and they had been married eight years now. Julia was a vivacious, Southern beauty and born to money. Her grandfather had made a fortune in timber around Hattiesburg after WWII. The canny grandfather had left Julia and her brother generous trusts, explaining to them when they were in high school that the trusts were to protect their family money from grasping potential spouses who might see the wealthy young people as cash cows.

On the other hand, Caleb came from a hardscrabble farming family who lived in the loess hills a few miles east of Yazoo City.

Caleb's grandma used to tell him exciting tales about her great grandma who was a comely young woman who some years afore the Civil War had run off with a dashing river boat gambler. Not long afterwards, a duel over cards down in Natchez, left her a widow with a baby child, stranded and penniless. Desperate, grandma's great grandma went to work in Natchez Under the Hill which was notorious in its day for its whorehouses, gambling dens, and rough riverfront bars. She got the baby back home to be raised by family and plied her trade with skill and cunning along the Mississippi River during wild and dangerous times. Grandma's lurid tales for her grandson were replete with stories of desperadoes, river pirates, smugglers, gunfights, riots, lynchings of gamblers by townsfolk, Yankee and Rebel gunboats during the great war, and, of course, naughty bawdy houses.

Great grandma always landed on her feet though and ended up the owner and madam of the ritziest brothel in Memphis. There, guests could savor delights of the flesh, quaff heady spirits, dine on fine cuisine, and try their luck at high-stakes gentlemen's games of chance, where fortunes could change hands in minutes. Great grandma's brothel catered to planters, cotton factors, politicians, and those rich enough to afford its steep tariff. If cotton was king, great grandma's brothel was its concubine. Still a beauty at 45, as well as rich and influential, great grandma succumbed in the yellow fever epidemic of 1878.

Outside of that one brush with fame and notoriety, Caleb's people were simple, poor yeoman farmers or laborers on the river. Caleb was the first in the family to go to college and did not waste the opportunity, excelling in his academics and catching a beauty of a bride. And catching one who was rich as Croesus to boot!

Julia's grandfather had died over a decade ago, and now Julia's father ran the family corporation headquartered in Hattiesburg. The father handled the timber part of the business and had diversified. Julia's brother oversaw the company's dozen grocery and gas shoppettes scattered over Mississippi from Biloxi to Tupelo and from Natchez to Meridian. Caleb managed the four liquor stores located on the coast in Biloxi, Gulfport, and Pascagoula. For his management of these properties, Caleb drew a generous salary, but partnership in the family business resided in Julia alone. Julia drew a nice salary too, though she was more busy socialite than working businesswoman. She also had her trust income to enjoy. They were a comfortable, attractive, well-to-do young couple who were busily enjoying the good life.

Julia reentered the kitchen and breakfast nook area. She announced to Caleb with a puzzled look, "Honey, there are two men waiting for you in the living room. Said they needed to talk with you in person."

Caleb glanced up, "Who is it? Some of the guys from the store?"

"No. At least, they don't look familiar to me."

"Okay."

Caleb rose and walked to the front of the house. Julia trailed along uncertainly behind him.

Caleb stopped and stiffened as he entered the living room, uttering a surprised, "Oh."

He nodded and said quietly, "Hello, Marcel. Hello Cezar."

Marcel gave a broad smile and said, "Hello, Caleb." Glancing at Julia he continued, "And this must be your lovely wife, Julia that we met a few moments ago. My mother would skin me alive for being rude and not introducing myself properly before, as I should have."

Marcel turned his attention fully on Julia and continued with old fashioned gallantry, "I must say friends have spoken of your beauty, but in the flesh, you far surpass in loveliness all I have heard. I am Marcel, and this is my colleague Cezar."

Julia examined Marcel. He was a strong-looking, well groomed man, maybe five years older than she and dressed in an exquisite gray suit. A small white scar snaked down his left cheek to his chin, but rather than being a disfiguring blemish, the scar gave him a mysterious, exotic aura. Cezar was a muscular, rough-hewn man who was a good head taller than either Marcel or Caleb.

Julia replied with cool poise, "Thank you. I am pleased to meet you both. May I offer either of you a cup of coffee?"

"No, no, we are fine, thank you." Marcel turned his gaze back to Caleb, "We are here on business, unfortunate business, I fear."

Julia's ears perked up on hearing the term "business." There was no business of Caleb's except her family business, and she had a very proprietary interest in that.

Julia pressed the point, "And exactly what business might that be, unfortunate or not?"

Marcel swung his gaze back to Julia. "I am afraid your husband owes us $17,000 that was due two weeks ago."

Julia looked steadily at Marcel saying icily, "And would that be a gambling debt?"

Marcel nodded solemnly, "Yes, I am afraid so."

Julia turned and said stiffly to Caleb, "You fool; you said you had it under control."

Caleb ignored Julia and blustered, "Look Marcel, I sent word to you yesterday. I am selling the family farm in Yazoo City that I inherited. Half crop land and half timber. It'll clear a quarter million dollars easy. I am good for it; just give me a few weeks."

Two and two started to add up in Julia's mind. Caleb had a gambling problem. Probably inherited it from that damn river boat gambler ancestor he had told Julia about.

Caleb had the "treatment" up in Memphis three years ago. He claimed the gambling was under control now, and he was just playing a little penny-ante fun poker on Monday nights with pals. Obviously, he had lied to her and gotten in over his head.

Julia also realized now that she knew of Marcel and Cezar, though she had never met them in person. The Mississippi Gulf Coast is like a small town where naughty gossip is a favorite social sport. There were few secrets on the Coast, and everyone knew everyone else's business.

Marcel came over from New Orleans five or six years ago. He ran an illegal gambling club back on Bayou Bernard in Gulfport. If you couldn't borrow money from legitimate sources, Marcel could help you out but at usurious interest rates. He also had a string of local women working as high-end call girls catering to the beach convention crowd and his gambling club patrons. Gossip was you would not believe who some of those women were. They were women you knew from around town, shocking! People said a lot of things about Marcel, and they were not very nice things. Cezar was his right hand man.

From what she heard from some girl friends, Marcel was also cutting quite a swath through the married and unmarried women on the coast. She noted with wry amusement that Marcel was indeed a good looking, very masculine guy in a dangerously enticing sort of way. No doubt the rumors were true.

People also talked about Mafia and big time organized crime being associated with Marcel, but it was probably just chatter. Folks always flap their chops and don't know what they are talking about most of the time. But it was clear these were not men to trifle with.

Her damfool husband had really done it this time. At least he couldn't get to her money. All the accounts except his personal checking account were in her name alone, and the trust protected the rest.

Switching her gaze back to Marcel, Julia said stonily, "My husband's debts are his problem, and none of my own. I will leave you gentlemen to sort out your issues."

Before Julia could move, Cezar slid with the grace of a great cat and drove his right fist into Caleb's mid-section, doubling him over. A massive left hook smashed into Caleb's unprotected side. Caleb collapsed onto the floor gasping and moaning in pain from the blows that had knocked the breath out of him and cracked several ribs. Cezar returned to stand by Marcel as quickly and smoothly as he had lashed out.

Julia looked on horrified. She was mad at her husband, furious actually. However, she was repelled by the violence meted out to him. Despite his stupidity and her anger at him, she had married him out of love, and he was her husband. This would not do.

Marcel shrugged, "I am sorry; I am not a bank. All accounts are to be fully settled by the first of the month. That's the rule. Everyone knows that. In my line of work, I can't have people welshing on their debts. It would be very bad for my business and my reputation."

Caleb drug himself to a tottering, standing position holding his arm tight against his searing ribs. He gasped out, "Marcel, I am good for it. I just have to sell that farm. I'll pay interest for being late."

Marcel nodded thoughtfully and said quietly, "Yes, you will pay interest, ten percent a week actually. But that is not enough. In my business, I have to make an example of you so others do not try to stiff me in the future."

Caleb blanched and took a few stumbling steps backward, "Wait Marcel. I won't tell anybody, I'll ..." Caleb fell silent. He was at wits end with nothing to placate Marcel's anger.

Julia thought quickly. She couldn't let this happen. She snapped angrily at Marcel, "What are you going to do? Beat my husband to a pulp? What is that going to accomplish?"

Cezar smiled slightly and spoke for the first time in a deep, resonant voice, "It would certainly set an example of what not to do."

Julia tried to take charge of the situation spitting out quickly, "Okay, look, beating my husband up is not going to get your money faster. I'll pay it right now. I have enough in a money market account. For God's sake, I can write you a check this minute. With interest, extra interest. Just tell me how much. You will have your money today, not weeks from now."

Marcel replied sternly, "No, that really isn't the point. Two weeks ago that would have worked just fine, but now it is way too late. Caleb stood me up, and the word has gotten around already. This causes a loss of face and a loss of people's confidence in me."

Marcel gave a tight smile that raised Julia's hackles. Marcel went on, "We have actually found a more effective way to deal with this type of problem."

Julia thought to herself, "What in the hell is he talking about."

Julia jumped in vehemently, "This is not some damn Godfather movie. What are you going to do? Shoot him and drop him in the Gulf? That is insane."

Marcel laughed, "Rest easy. We are not going to kill your husband. No, we find it far more effective to require the stiff's wife to become part of her husband's payment program and let word about that get out around town. It really discourages late payments."

He looked steadily at Julia now, saying sternly, "We actually don't want your money, Julia. We will wait for the farm to sell, but you, my Dear, are the price of the delay and our patience. And Honey, what a prize you are."

The room went completely still. Julia stared in shock at Marcel thinking, "Is this man crazy? Did I just hear what I think I heard?"

Cezar spoke again in his deep, rich voice, "We have found the husband's public humiliation at his wife's defilement far more effective than physical violence for inspiring prompt payment."

Marcel stared thoughtfully at Julia as he explained, "In a case like yours where the assets to pay will be available reasonably soon, but time is needed, we may enjoy the wife ourselves, or we may loan her out to special friends to enjoy. You know, a judge here, a politician there, an important client - you get the idea."

Julia was getting a terrible icy knot in her stomach.

Marcel smiled wolfishly as he continued, "And if the assets aren't available to pay us back, the wife, shall we say, volunteers to work as one of our full-time escorts until the husband's debt is discharged. We apply her share of the client's fee to the debt. We do let her keep her tips, though. We're fair, and it gives her incentive to put out more enthusiastically for the clients."

Cezar laughed adding, "It is like paying off your mortgage, though. Most of the girl's early effort is expended paying interest, and the principal is only slowly reduced over time."

Marcel clapped his hands, making Julia jump. He exclaimed with a sardonic grin, "But happily in your case, your husband can pay; he just needs time. So, my sexy little beauty, you are going to be that delightful little lagniappe to be savored privately rather than publically put out there as an escort while your husband sells the family farm. We will also see that the clucking hen gossip line gets wind of you cuckolding your husband, just to rub Caleb's nose in it."

"Absolutely not!" was Julia's immediate, defiant answer.

Marcel smirked, answering mildly, "You do not have an option, my Dear. You saw what Cezar just did to your husband. Cezar was a professional boxer in New Orleans until I enticed him to work for me with regular pay and fringe benefits. We can take what we want."

"You touch me, and I'll have your head on rape charges." Julia was feeling lightheaded.

Marcel sighed, "Oh Julia, really."

Julia understood the inferred statement of fact.

This all occurred a number of years ago. Personal computers were just emerging on the market, and today's ubiquitous cell phones, email, and internet were not yet on the scene. Gossip was still by word-of-mouth and not by social media.

And it was also back before the glitzy, corporate casino boats came to the Coast and before the political reforms. Back then the Coast was imbued with a much more wild west atmosphere with all kinds of crazy shenanigans going on. The best clubs and resorts had illegal gambling in the back. Hurricane Camille back in '69 had dampened things, but they gradually sprang back as the years passed. Perhaps not as robustly as before, but definitely shenanigans were going on again.

Yep, it was an interesting place back then. Why, one of the local sheriffs rented deputies to the drug smugglers to guard aircraft landing zones for incoming product. The feds even convicted another sheriff for carrying out a contract killing of a federal judge and his wife for a drug cartel. And the county commissioners! The FBI was jamming up the federal court with their cases for corruption. Things have cleaned up a lot now, but back then? ... Well Julia just couldn't count on police protection against the likes of Marcel.

She knew she couldn't go to her straightlaced brother or father for help either. If they found out Caleb was gambling again, they would take back the liquor stores and the hefty salaries that Caleb and she enjoyed.

It struck Julia like a brick; she had no options. Marcel was going to have her; whether she surrendered or fought made no difference. If she fought, it would just result in her and Caleb both getting hurt, perhaps very badly. The wind went out of her sails with that recognition, and she sagged.

Marcel saw Julia's mental capitulation to the realities of the situation. He smiled warmly now murmuring, "Checkmate, Honey."

Julia exhaled a big breath and turned toward the bedroom muttering, "Okay, come on. Let's get it over with."

Marcel reached out and gently caught her shoulder. "No, not there."

Marcel glanced around thoughtfully and then laughed. "Perfect, come, follow me."

Marcel led them into the adjacent dining room separated from the living room by a half wall. There he slid back the end chair from the dining table and slapped the table's surface. "This will do perfectly. I want that every time you and Caleb eat a meal here, you will remember us." He laughed, "Fondly, I would hope."

The magnificent table seated twelve. It had been handcrafted for Julia's grandfather from virgin black walnut thirty years ago. The individual boards were 18-inches across and finished to a deep, lustrous sheen. It was certainly big and sturdy enough for Marcel's intended purposes.

Cezar pushed Caleb down into the chair Marcel had pulled away from the table, eliciting a grunt of pain from the injured man. Marcel looked directly at Julia and nodded.

Julia had no control over what was about to happen, but she would not show fear or allow Marcel to enjoy her fully. She steeled herself to stay cool and aloof through the coming ordeal. Woodenly she began to unbutton her blouse. She removed each garment with a steady hand staring into Marcel's eyes without flinching.

Finally, she stood naked before the men. She let her hands drop naturally to her side not trying to shield herself with any useless shows of modesty. Soon there would be naught to be modest about anyway.

Marcel, nodded approvingly and then said, "Honey, why don't you get a blanket to put on the table. You'll be more comfortable."

Julia turned stiffly without saying a word, left, and returned a few minutes later with a thick blue blanket. She was pale and her legs felt trembly. She took a deep breath and hardened her resolve.

Marcel took the blanket from her and spread it double thick on the table. He turned to Julia, grasped her waist, and effortlessly swung her to a sitting position on the table saying, "Upsy Daisy. Now, lay back, Honey."

Julia did as she was ordered, and Marcel quickly stripped off his suit. He knelt on the floor, positioning himself between Julia's legs that now straddled his shoulders. Carefully and with cool deliberation, he began to minister to Caleb's pretty, young wife while Caleb and Cezar looked on.

Caleb watched in horror. There was nothing he could do. Cezar would make mincemeat of him if he moved or spoke. He just sat there six feet behind and slightly to the right of Marcel's back, staring down the length of his wife's body on which Marcel was lavishing increasingly intense attention.

Meanwhile, Julia willed herself to remain stone-cold still, ignoring the growing sensations emanating from Marcel's agile tongue's skillful efforts. After a few minutes, Julia gasped and half raised herself with a giggle uttering a desperate, "Oh shit, no, no, no!"

Buried deep between Julia's thighs, Marcel smiled and redoubled his efforts.

Julia fell back with a moan and a twisted smile. She was losing her battle to retain control over herself. Sensations were racing through her twisting her innards into knots. She groaned and grabbed the sides of the table tightly to keep control. But it was no use. She was panting now, trying hard to stifle the lusty cries crowding her throat. It was hopeless; she had lost.

Julia buried her hands in Marcel's hair thrusting her hips into him and pulling his head tight into her. "God, don't stop. Oh, Oh, Oh my God."

Julia convulsed and heaved with happy groans and cries of satisfaction. She no longer cared that there was a stranger's face buried between her legs while another stranger and her husband watched. She was consumed with the growing surge of fire coursing through her body and numbing her brain. When the climax came, the convulsions racked the young woman's whole body as she bucked and heaved into a near sitting position with her legs locked behind Marcel. Julia let out a loud, undulating scream of primeval pleasure, before dropping back flat onto the table gasping for air.