Maison Du Soleil Levant
… “Girl, stand up.” Yvette crawled up to her regular posture and took a deep breath. “Yuh mustn’t let any man see you for two days. If they do, they die instantly.”
Yvette shook her head in curious fear.
“After two days, yuh skin will glow, yuh breasts will plump up, and yuh lips will turn da dark crimson, all permanently,” Brown exclaimed.
Yvette started to wail out in joy – the joy of looking more radiant than she ever imagined.
“One more ting, girl,” Brown beckoned. “Take dis chicken carcass, and pluck its heart out.”
The French girl was apprehensive, but knew it had to be done.
“Do it!” Brown bellowed now.
Once the deed was done, Brown put Yvette in a trance, along with baby Emelie; she forced the mother to feed the fowl beast’s beating organ to her daughter.
Yvette may have been under a spell, but Emelie later recalled every waking second of this.
The act would remain in her brain for all eternity, and would lead her to call upon the swamp witch several years later. For Emelie would be coaxed into the dark arts, and Brown would only be too glad to show her the way.
“Hey, fucker, happy birthday!” One of Riley’s friends flamboyantly yelled at him as he walked in the bar, then gave him a big, wet kiss on both of his cheeks.
Seven more homos threw themselves into the mix, flinging homo-erotic cards at the birthday boy, and inappropriate gag gifts he’d attempt to use on Cody; they’d either be too drunk to function, or wouldn’t be able to figure out their proper use even if they tried.
Five drag queens passed by the bar where the group gathered, then six go-go boys arrived at their stations for the evening.
Riley wasn’t really big on birthdays, but he couldn’t truly remember any in the past, either; it was hazy.
Despite their minor marital problems, Cody thought he knew about Riley’s past, felt terrible, and wanted to do something special for the love of his life.
“Happy birthday to the biggest slut in New Orleans, Riiiley Clarke!” The DJ announced the event as embarrassingly as he could, as the queers all applauded and scowled; Riley just sat there on the bench and blushed.
“Come on up here, Dorothy, and take your throne,” the DJ continued.
Two bulky draggies came to the bar and dragged Riley to the main stage; they undressed him down to his underwear, then put a purple robe on him with a golden chain, and a green jester’s hat atop his finely quaffed hair.
He resisted at every move, but loved every second of the attention.
The draggies now threw the boy onto a papier-ma?che? throne, and the music started to blast. Confetti fell from the upper inside balconies. The crowd was blaring now, and ready to make a night of it.
The lights fell, then an array of colors spewed across the dancefloor. As the house got more crowded, Cody made his way up to the makeshift king’s lair; Riley smiled, then got up to kiss his man.
Cody wasn’t exactly sober himself, and began to reach down to Riley’s erogenous zone; he started to stroke the member in Riley’s underwear. Nobody was able to witness the commotion over the gay thumpa, but Riley was moaning like a deprived lion.
“What do you want me to do now, guy?” Cody asked. “I really want to eat you out, then fuck you,” Cody concluded. He wasn’t his usual coy self.