Jon Reskind - Uncle Gaston and niece Volume Two

It wasn't what she'd said, but the way she had said it that cut Shannon. He felt his mouth curving contemptuously and he had all he could do to contain himself from slapping her hard. Somehow, he kept control; reached beyond her to shoot the bolt on the door into its catch; then he walked back to the chair.

"Sit down," he ordered flatly, not looking at her. "I've got a deal for you."

Madeleine didn't move. Her antagonism at his uninvited, unwelcomed and unwanted presence was causing her to churn furiously within… this along with the unsated little prurient sensations that Julian Forrest had aroused and sadistically left to torment her still excited and needing loins was both infuriating and confusing her… in fact, she felt as if she might just burst out crying. She bit at her lower lip and said: "I'm not interested in any deals you have to offer…"

"You will be when you hear this one," said Shannon in a confident monotone, still not looking at her. He found cigarettes, extracted one and held the package out to her. She ignored the gesture and he lighted his own. "I'm talking about money, baby… much, much money…" He let smoke from his lungs while his hard blue eyes focused on her once more. "Enough for you to get your kid back and take care of the both of you the rest of your lives… Interested now?"

Madeleine had not shifted her glance from him nor moved since he'd closed and bolted the door. Now, in the wake of his words, she stared at him with widening eyes, adding a third dimension to her sudden frustrated emotions… astonishment. She said: "How do you know about… about my child?"

Shannon smiled thinly. "Her name is Igat. She is five years old, and you were seventeen when she was born. Her father was an American salesman named Keel from Boston with whom you spent one night… trading your young virginal charms for his promise to take you with him to the states… but he immediately deserted you. When Igat was born you allowed a certain drunken Doctor Carey, who, incidentally, delivered you, to place the child in the home of Rafael and Madame Girarde here in Montreal." He continued to smile. "Stop me if I'm wrong," he said.

She didn't speak… couldn't!

"You came to Montreal to be near your child, found employment waiting table and there met Antoine Poirier, adopted nephew of Gaston Larreau, the Syndicate's number-one wheel here in Canada. A real nice chap, too, this Larreau… I mean, who else would make his own nephew, adopted or whatever, president of a company that he was using to extort beaucoup dollars from the public just so he could have a fall-guy? A real benefactor, that scrum."

Madeleine could not believe it; she could only stand there and stare at him. He had practically reviewed her life in a matter of minutes…

"Want to hear more?" Shannon questioned.

She couldn't speak.

"Okay… so, you married Antoine and the two of you were making it until Uncle Gaston threw your new husband to the wolves in Ottawa when the government turned on the heat. You went into hiding when Antoine was sent up in order to get away from Uncle Gaston, whom, unless I miss my guess, was trying to get you to play house with him. In the end, you wound up with the noble Ministre Of Gouvernment, Rafael Girarde, who not only gave you a job in one of his several night spots, but even hangs his clothes in your closet. I'd add that for this generous little favor, Girarde had arranged for you to see Igat once in awhile, just as long as you don't get out of line with the Madame, who'd probably play hell if she knew her charming husband had a mistress." Shannon sucked at his cigarette and let out smoke once more. "On top of all this, I'd guess you were operating a private little lay-business on the side… probably with an exclusive clientele… and I'd further venture that you're just getting back from doing a stroke of business of sorts. Now… how close am I to being accurate, baby…? Or would you rather not say?"

Madeleine continued to gape at him, but with a bit more respect and less fury than she had known only moments before. Finally, she said: "I-I don't understand… Where… where did you find these things out… I mean, about my baby and the American, Keel…?"

"From Tony, of course," Shannon replied. "A thousand nights we spent talking about it… all of it… until I came to feel that I knew you as well as he, himself, maybe, even better."

"But… but," she shook her head, confused, "He… he didn't know about Igat… at least, I didn't think he did…"

"Oh, he knew all right, baby," Shannon assured her. "Uncle Gaston made sure he knew, and so did a little girl named Ginny Novak, Larreau's mistress… before he had her dumped into the drink… quite dead. I'm sure you remember that episode."

Madeleine shuddered; she remembered all right. She shook her head, as if to rid herself of the horrible memory. Momentarily, she swayed slightly and the room seemed to waver before her. Shannon read the symptoms, arose quickly and caught her by the arms, helping her to a straight-back chair beside the small kitchen table. He eased her down onto it and watched her erect full breasts rise and fall as she breathed in short measured gasps.

"You have any brandy?" he asked her, taking her wrist between his big hands and chafing them.

"B-Bourbon… in the cupboard," she said, pointing with a nod of her head.

He found it and poured substantially into a waterglass, handing it to her. Madeleine sipped, then lay back in the chair, stretching out her long shapely legs, the tiny skirt of her dress hardly covering two-inches of her full and rounded nylon-encased thighs as she slumped downward into the seat. He swallowed tightly, his eyes locking on the tiny wisp of sheer white panties that V'd tightly at her enticing crotch above the juncture where the soft, warm white flesh of her thighs brushed each other. He forced himself to turn away, then poured a lengthy measure of the liquor into a glass and downed it. When he turned around again she had raised herself up and adjusted her dress.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"O-Oui… I think so." She let off a long sigh and rubbed her hand over her forehead. "P-Please, M'sieu' Shannon… sit down…"

But he didn't; instead, he stood there, his eyes moving over her, stripping her hungrily, a certain lasciviousness that she had not seen before coming to light in them. Once more, she felt a tiny shudder creep over her. She watched him wet his dry lips with his tongue and saw his hands clenching and unclenching slowly, as the stirring began at the front of his trousers again.

"You… you spoke of a deal… and much money," she managed, realizing suddenly that the magnetism of his obvious arousal was generating its silent communication like an electric current, immediately provoking her own unfulfilled desire once more. "Wh-what did you mean…?"

He took two steps toward her and stopped, holding out his hand; he was so close to her that if she dropped her eyes from his face they would be level with the swollen, throbbing member in his pants. Her breathing shortened as automatically she gave him her hand and he said: "That can wait… this can't… not another damned agonizing minute."

Madeleine gasped as he placed her hand against the rock-hardness of his prick and an uncontrollable tingle of excitement rippled through her. My God! Had she become that much of a slut that she couldn't control herself at the mere touch of a man's erect penis? What kind of bitch am I becoming…? Her brain reeled, much as had the room itself only a few moments before…

"P-Please… no…" she stammered, trying to pull her hand free and get to her feet, but he held her hand fast against the outline of his jerking cock and drew her up tight to him, crushing her full pointed breasts into his chest.

"Five years…" he hissed between his strong, white teeth, his breath hot against her face, "five long years since I've had a woman… and I'm going to fuck you, lovely Madeleine, if it's the last thing I ever do in this lifetime. You hear?"