The Count of Monte CristoChapter 58 M Noirtier de Villefort
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Billie woke up the next morning feeling strangely excited and full of new energy. She jumped naked from the bed and splashed cold water from the old porcelain basin onto her face. A few droplets fell onto her breasts and when she wiped them off with a towel, she realized that her tits were sore to the touch. Just walking across the room made enough friction between her legs to feel awfully good. Even something so ordinary as dressing made her sigh: the way her dress felt going over her shoulders and nipples and back, the way her panties snugged up against her hot mound and clasped her trim little cheeks in tight nylon. Even the way the elastic band cut into the flesh of her hips gave her a rush.
"This is something!" she whispered to her image in the mirror, "really something."
Then Billie-Ann remembered that it was a special morning. It was her birthday and she was fourteen! Hurrying, Billie brushed her hair down and finished dressing. Nora had breakfast ready when she came bouncing into the kitchen and when she sat down she found an envelope beside her plate. Inside was a soiled and crumpled one-dollar bill.
"Thanks, Nora," Billie said, a little surprised that her stepmother had even remembered the date.
Nora shot her a sharp glance that had just the trace of a smile in it. "In my day we didn't get nothin' for a fourteenth birthday, but nowadays kids expect so much."
Billie didn't think that a dollar was really much at all, but she stuck it in the single pocket on the front of her smock-like dress and started eating. It would have been nicer, she thought, if Nora had kissed her instead. But lots of her birthdays had passed without anyone remembering whether she was alive or dead.
Without being asked to, Billie gathered the eggs and slopped the hogs. She was hoping that if she worked hard enough that morning, Nora might stay off her back for a while... or at least long enough for Billie to wander alone in the woods. She was starting to grow up and she wanted to be alone and think about so many things that had to be thought about.
While she was feeding the chickens, Nora came up and stood behind her, watching. "We might make something of this place," her stepmother said, "if you keep putting your heart in it like that."
"I've already told Miz Crumpers that we can use her son Lonnie for a few weeks." Nora nodded toward the overgrown garden patch behind the chicken coop. "I'm gonna have him clean up them weeds and put in some vegetables. It still ain't too late to have enough for canning."
Billie knew Lonnie Crumpers from the time when she'd gone in to town to school. He was ten or eleven by now and not a bad kid that she could remember. "But the Crumpers live ten miles away," she said. "How will Lonnie get home at night?"
"He'll be staying here during the week," her stepmother told her. "I promised Miz Crumpers his room and board and a dollar a day. We can make him a pallet on the floor in your room."
"Aw, but Nora," Billie protested, "I don't have enough room as it is and..."
"Just hush now. He'll be staying in there on a pallet and that's all there is to it. I won't have him in my room waking me up all night." She picked up a pail and rattled it as if to end the argument.
Billie finished the rest of the chores in sullen silence, and when Nora had stretched out on the couch in the front room for her midday nap, she skipped down the front steps and crossed the road into the cool blue shadows of the woods. For the first time in months, Billie-Ann felt really lonely. She never thought much about not having any real friends her own age, but turning fourteen was kind of special and with no one to share it with... sad. What made it even worse was Nora moving Lonnie Crumpers right into her very own room. Billie bit her lower lip and kicked at a mushroom. The domed white cap split into a dozen fragments and scattered over the crushed leaves and twigs ahead of her.
Billie walked in no particular direction and she was only partially aware that her footsteps were taking her in a roundabout way toward Basset's Pond. Then, when she was near enough to make out the shimmering reflection of the water, she realized at once she'd come that way on purpose... hoping to find Hanson there again. The shock of comprehending this made her skin jump, and she stopped. What business did a white girl have alone in the woods with a colored boy? And Hanson was much older than she was.
The quiet rustle of leaves filled the air above her. Billie scanned the banks of the pond and saw no one. In spite of her shame for coming down to that spot, she felt a little twinge of disappointment, and the loneliness she'd been fighting filled her again.
"Kinda hot today, ain't it?" said someone behind her.
Billie whirled so fast that her long hair flung halfway across her face. It was Hanson, sitting with his back against a tree. A thicket had kept her from seeing him when she'd walked by. Beside him was a stack of paperback books... one was open in his lap.
"I... I..." Billie stopped trying to speak and gulped instead. Her mouth was dry and those peculiar little flutters were in the top of her belly again.
Hanson smiled at her as if he'd guessed what was happening. Then he waved a hand at the books beside him. "See here what I brought ya?"
Billie knelt down beside him and looked at each book in the stack. There were a couple of mysteries and a science fiction or two and something real thick that looked like a novel about a man with a lot of women. It was enough reading to last her quite a while and the nicest birthday present she'd gotten all day... the nicest birthday present she'd gotten ever. Except maybe when her dad had bought her the sandals.
"Thanks," Billie said. "They all look real good. I cain't wait to start one."
"You really do like to read, don't you?" Hanson asked, studying her.
Billie dropped her lashes and smiled. "It's... all I have to do, I guess." For an uncomfortable moment or two both of them were silent. Billie knew that she should probably take the books and go, but she couldn't bring herself to. She wanted to stay. She couldn't stand for that lonely feeling to come back again to haunt her... not on her birthday. Maybe a few minutes longer would be all right. "I'm fourteen today!" she said brightly, trying to make conversation.
Hanson gave her another long, warm look. "Well then, I'm glad I brought you somethin'. You can call those books your present from me."
Billie nodded, smiling. "That's what I was thinking." She hugged the books and looked around nervously. When she glanced back at Hanson he was looking at her bare legs below the hem of the short dress she had on. At the same time Billie studied his smooth features and muscled shoulders. What was the danger Nora always nagged about? What was the real reason a white girl wasn't supposed to ride with a black boy? When Billie-Ann rode with Jed, her stepmother never said a thing about it. Billie compared the two men in her thoughts. Seeing Jed's cock had given her an excited feeling all right, but it hadn't been anything like when she'd stumbled upon Hanson naked in the pond. Maybe that was it. Maybe black men had a way about them that made girls more sexy, Billie thought. She looked at him again while he drew circles in the dirt with a stick, and decided that there was something about Hanson that made her feel light and fluttery in her chest. But whatever might scare her about him took second place today. Alone in the woods the two of them were cut off from the hates and troubles of life outside and at least for a short time she could enjoy another person's company.
"You're so quiet," Hanson said, breaking the silence.
"Just thinking."
"Let me guess." He puckered his mouth, then tilted his head at her. "You're thinking here I am alone with this niggah in the woods... I wonder how long it'll be before he grabs me and..."
Billie blushed and gave a shy little laugh. "I really wasn't thinking that at all..."
Hanson was laughing, too, but kept on. "... and then you're thinking, boy, I sure am glad nobody can see us..."
"I... I don't think I care if anybody does," Billie said, even though she knew that was only partly true.
"Well if you don't care, I sho do!" Hanson said, looking down his nose at her. "I mean just what do you think all them niggahs in Dooberville would say if they saw me with a white girl?"
Billie-Ann tried to hold it back, but then burst out in shrieking giggles and it was plain that Hanson was enjoying her amusement. "I don't know," she finally was able to say. "What would they say if they saw us together?"
"Here's what they'd say." Hanson grinned mightily and shouted, "Look out, boy, the sheriff's comin'!"
That set Billie off laughing again. It wasn't at all like she might hurt Hanson's feelings--he seemed to want her to laugh, and she understood how the way he poked fun at the ugly way some things were made them seem silly and ridiculous. Billie looked at Hanson like she'd never really seen him before.
"I never met a colored..." She mumbled to a stop but then went on, sure that he would forgive whatever she might say. "I never met a colored person like you before."
Hanson slapped his thigh and looked slyly at her. "That's what an education'll do for a black man."
"Gosh!" Billie felt almost as if Hanson were working a spell on her or something. It was mostly the warm way she felt talking with him. "I bet college is tough."
"Nothin' to it." He leaned back against the tree again and gazed up into the thick leaves. "All you need is a little natural rhythm and a good ear."
While Hanson chuckled quietly, Billie-Ann considered what he had said. She was still wondering if she might have natural rhythm when he put his book down and stood up.
"Let's take a swim and cool off... what do you say?"
Billie felt herself stiffen. Already Hanson had grabbed the bottom of his jersey with both hands and was skinning it up over his head.
"Maybe I'd b-b-better not," she said. "I don't have anything to wear."
Hanson hung the jersey on a tree branch and reached for the buckle of his blue jeans. "Okay, but it's mighty hot to sit out on the bank."
Billie-Ann's heart was in her throat. She didn't know whether to run or turn her back or what. If Hanson let her see his big brown cock close-up she might faint. But then she knew she was letting her imagination run away with her. Of course, Hanson wouldn't just strip down to the buff right in front of her... it was silly to think he would. Just like she'd figured, he left his underwear on, though there didn't seem to be much to them. They were made of some blue satin mesh and hung low on Hanson's hips. The holes in the loose-woven material were just big enough for her to spy some brown skin underneath. Hanson stretched, and the shelves of muscles in his chest and flat stomach moved, completely capturing Billie's attention. He was really built, she kept thinking. In fact, he was so powerful- looking it made her feel helpless and she hugged her books tighter against the front of her flimsy little dress. It would be better if she went home... right away. Before Hanson got the wrong idea. It was then that Billie realized Hanson had been watching her again, and she gave him a weak smile. His hip jutted out and he was rubbing a hand slowly back and forth across his broad chest.
"I been thinking about you and I got a theory."
Billie shrugged. "Oh?"
"The trouble with you is all your life people been telling you never let a niggah boy touch you." He put his hands on his hips and scratched one leg with the sole of his foot. "So now you're just shivering and a-shaking, scared to death that we might bump up against each other or that I might grab you real good and give you a heart attack or something."
Billie-Ann tried hard to meet his eyes. "Maybe..." She knew he was right. Hanson always was.
"So why not let's get it over with?" He put out his hand, palm up. "Here, give me your hand."
Billie stepped back another foot, eyes wide and mouth set tight. "Cain't w-we wait?"
"Come on! Put your hand on mine. Ain't nothin' gonna rub off."
Not to do it would have made her feel like a complete idiot, so Billie extended her arm and laid a trembling hand in Hanson's. He closed his fingers warmly over it but didn't try to pull her closer.
"Relax, for Chrissake!" he ordered. "I ain't breakin' any bones, am I?"
A laugh caught her unaware and she shook her head. "No. 'Course not." But her knee joints felt weak and loose.
"So see there," Hanson chuckled, releasing her fingers, "we got it over with now, and you look as well off to me as you did a minute or two ago." He put a finger to his chin and took in the full length of her body. "Fact is, you might even look a little healthier."
"You must think I'm awful stupid," Billie-Ann mumbled, looking down at her feet.
"Naw." He put his hand out again and this time Billie gave him hers without hesitation. "It's them old folks that are stupid. My parents ain't no better'n yours. If my mother knew I was down here alone in the woods with a white girl, she'd run me out of the house with a shotgun."
Billie had just decided that she liked the way her hand felt inside Hanson's... liked the way his fingers wrapped clear over hers, hiding them. This time when he released her, she let her palm linger for a moment against his and then quickly took it back.
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