Unknown: Southern tramp

"What in the dickens shall I do today?" Melanie Wilkerson pouted pettishly, sitting in the open French window which looked out upon the verdant land and gardens that belonged to her wealthy father.

Melanie was an extremely beautiful girl of sixteen, a lovely combination of woman and child, the type only to be found in the South. She had lambent golden curls which cascaded around her shoulders prettily, framing an oval, porcelain face with enormous, long-lashed blue eyes, a perky upturned nose, and full, strawberry-hued lips. Her complexion was peaches and cream. Indeed, she looked the picture of health, a stunningly gorgeous Southern peach, renowned throughout the county for her lovely features.

Today, she was wearing a white silk dress with puffy sleeves and a dipping cleavage which revealed her ample, jutting breasts, far larger than those of most girls of sixteen. Her figure was like that of an hour glass, lusciously curvaceous with an incredibly slender waist and long, sexy legs. Many a lusty young buck had drooled over the sight of the dimpled Miss Wilkerson parading through the town's streets usually shaded by a parasol, and more often than not, with her begloved hand slipped in the crook of her father's arm.

Rhett Wilkerson was a burly, powerfully built man, a man who was fiercely possessive and extremely ambitious. He was also one of the wealthiest men in the state. The Wilkersons had dabbled in politics since before the Civil War, and there had almost never been a time in recent history in which the family was not represented in the Senate or Congress, or at least the state's legislature. Two times a Wilkerson had served as Governor, and it was Rhett Wilkerson's lifelong ambition to become the third and youngest man in his family to gain that coveted political post.

Wilkerson was not a scrupulous or particularly compassionate man. He could ladle charm when necessary, and during the past few months, he had bombasted the state with an expensive campaign, kissing numerous babies and visiting every orphanage and old folks home he could. Recent polls placed him neck to neck with another ambitious young politician, a handsome Democrat named Lance Hardman. Both men were in their early forties, and therefore, which ever one won the election would become the youngest Governor in the state's history.

The State had habitually elected Democrats to office, but Wilkerson, a staunch and conservative Republican, was banking on the fact that Hardman was known to be a bit too liberal for the people of the State, especially in his attitude toward race relations. And Rhett Wilkerson intended to win the election, whatever the cost…

Melanie was sick and tired of hearing of nothing but the election, day in and day out. She had been forced to accompany her father – a widower – to many a social function, and pose with him for numerous newspaper photography sessions.

If there was one thing that Wilkerson prized above all else, it was his precious daughter. He was fiercely protective of her, and made sure she was under his wing whenever possible. He had spoiled Melanie in many ways, but had hampered her movements at the same time. Especially now that she was blossoming into a young women and young sparks were perking up and noticing when she passed. Rhett didn't want his daughter sullied, and above all, he didn't want his name to be dragged through the mud during these delicate days before the election. If his daughter should become involved in a sordid affair and the opposition became aware of it, Wilkerson's chances could be ruined.

So, Melanie was beginning to feel stifled and restless. She wanted more out of life than she was getting, and one thing that whetted her appetite was the thought of getting a handsome young beau. Up until now, Rhett Wilkerson had scared off any young pup who had come to woo his daughter. Wilkerson wanted to choose Melanie's prospective husband carefully, and not until she was eighteen would he even consider the question. But he did have his eye on young Nestor Previtts, whose father came from one of the oldest and most distinguished, and richest, families in the state. But Melanie hated Nestor.

"He's skinny and has pimples and smells bad," she pouted to her girlfriends.

What she secretly longed for was a handsome young man who resembled her brother, Jarvis.

Jarvis Wilkerson was twenty, and extremely handsome. He stood six foot one inch tall and weighed a hundred and ninety pounds. He had short, light brown hair and green eyes, set in an insolently handsome face, which could crease into a dazzling smile. His body was muscular and streamlined from much horseback riding, and he was an excellent polo player. His father wished that Jarvis, considered one of the state's more eligible young bachelors, would show a little more interest and ambition in something other than horses and girls, but he indulgently felt that after all, Jarvis was young and had to sow his wild oats.

Melanie often complained that her older brother was allowed to do as he pleased while her activities were severely limited, and her father had sternly reported that she was a lady and was expected to behave like one.

"With a young man, it is different," Rhett had said, with maddening sexism.

Thinking of this now, as she perched in the French window, basking in the warm sunlight, Melanie scowled with childish anger, her baby blue eyes snapping with Wilkerson fires. Like her father, she was stubborn and strong-willed and liked to have her own way.

Not that she resented Jarvis for having more privileges than she did. Melanie was devoted to her older brother, worshipped him, in fact. Just the thought of him made her heart go pit-a-pat, and she dreamed of being swept off her feet by a gallant young prince who looked exactly like Jarvis.

Melanie had been too carefully brought up to suspect that her feelings for her brother were more than romantic fantasies. She had no idea what incest was, and did not recognize her incestuous feelings for her brother for what they were.

But she was definitely aware of sex. She had discovered long ago, when she was twelve, that by touching the soft and delicately fringed mound between her legs with the cuticles of her fingers, she could create the most exquisite sensations. And the whispering, giggling talk of her girl-friends had given her a shadowy suggestion of the actual act of fornication. She had seen men with their shirts off, and she had certainly watched the crotches in men's pants and dreamt about what those bulges contained. Against her father's strict orders, she had sneaked out to watch stallions being mated to mares, and had found the sight extraordinarily exciting, sending a flush of warmth coursing through her nubile young body.

Her one actual contact with sex had come several weeks earlier when she had nearly created a scene by opening the door to her father's bedroom and found him lustily mounting Dahlia, the black girl who helped in the kitchen. Melanie had only caught a glimpse of the lewd scene before she hastily retreated, but it had been enough to sharpen her curiosity. She had seen her father's broad, sweaty, hairy back and Dahlia's luscious, mahogany colored legs wrapped around his waist. She had watched the way his hard buttocks flexed and lifted and fell, and had heard Dahlia's delighted whimpers and moans as the big stud entered her again and again…

Melanie felt a stab of envy for Dahlia which she would never have admitted aloud. The pretty black girl, a gorgeous mulatto, was twenty-five and had worked with the cook in the Wilkersons' kitchen since she was seventeen. Now Melanie realized that her services had been procured in order for Rhett Wilkerson to have a mistress, for she had come to work at the house weeks after the death of Melanie's mother.