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*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
It was a blistering hot morning in August, 1930. On the back porch of their father’s butcher shop, nineteen year old Molly Chopin listlessly fanned herself. Sitting across from her, eighteen year old Polly Chopin gathered up her long red hair and pulled it away from her neck.
There was no breeze blowing off of the Atchafalaya, but a breeze would have been unwelcome; it would have blown the fetid odor of the stagnant, brackish waters of the Louisiana bayou.
In the humidity, even sitting in the shade of the porch offered no real relief from the unrelenting heat. Their mother would have been shocked, scandalized, but neither Molly nor Polly wore their woolen shift underneath their dresses. As both were well-fed, shapely young ladies, this lack of undergarments would have been readily apparent. Their damp cotton smocks clung to their heavy breasts and slightly rounded bellies.
“Aw cher it hot,” Molly gasped in the humid air. “Bet it a hundred yeah.”
“Bet it two hundred,” Polly agreed.
“You crazy yeah, it don’t get no two hundred,” Molly laughed.
Polly decided to use the railing on her cane back chair and flung her long red hair back. She sighed in relief.
“Just don’t scoot no,” Molly reminded her sister.
“I look stupid?” Polly asked and fanned herself with the gaily painted fan their mother had brought back from Paris, France.
Molly laughed at the memory of Polly trying to get to her feet, but one of the chair’s legs had trapped a hank of her long red hair. Polly would try to get to her feet and her hair would yank her back into the seat, trapping her again. Finally, Molly had grabbed the chair and pulled it forward, freeing her sister.
Inside of the building, their father, Earl ‘Early’ Chopin mopped the sweat from his forehead. Through the large window of his building, he could see Mrs. Meche stepping out the door of her baked goods shop and crossing the dusty path, advancing toward his shop.
Ever since the passing of Marianne, his wife, the dour, stout Mrs. Meche, a widow herself, had been a thorn in Early’s side. Her flirtations were clumsy at best and her supposition that Molly and Polly needed female’s supervision rankled Early. The two girls were, after all, adults.
“Good morning, Mr. Early,” the woman simpered.
“And good morning to you, Mrs. Meche,” Early agreed.
“My goodness, it’s so hot and it ain’t even noon yet,” the woman said.
“Ain’t so much the hot, it that humidity yeah,” Early agreed.
“I need me a cup of heavy cream, two quarts of milk, two dozen eggs and two pounds of butter, oh, and you got you any lard? Need me a cup of that,” the woman finally got around to placing her order for the day.
On the back porch, seeking some, any relief from the unbearable heat, Polly had pulled her ankle length dress to above mid-thigh.
“Polly you don’t do that,” Molly cautioned.
There was a three foot high ledge that ran the length of the porch; even if someone were to walk around to the rear of the building, the clank of the heavy wooden fence would alert the girls. But even if they did not hear the clank, the ledge would protect their modesty.
“Woo woo!” Polly yelled out, raising the hem of her dress to her throat, flashing bright red curls and plump belly and undersides of her heavy breasts.
“Polly!” their father barked out, causing both girls to squeal in horror.
Early repeated Mrs. Meche’s order for two dozen eggs and a hotly blushing Polly scampered to the chicken coop. Early slammed the rear door of the main building, letting both girls know he was not pleased.
Inside the sweltering, dusty, smelly building, Polly endured the squawking, clucking hens that pecked angrily at her hands as she gathered their eggs.
She also saw that the corn mash was low and refilled their individual troughs. This did distract some hens, but she still had blood drawn by a few of the more aggressive birds.
“Ha ha,” Molly smirked as Polly now lugged the heavy egg basket to the rear door.
“You be quiet,” Polly grumbled and entered the stifling hot building.
Mrs. Meche pursed her lips in disapproval. The girl’s heavy breasts and round belly were quite evident as the girl’s dress clung to her damp skin.
She looked at Early and wondered if she dared say anything; fathers could often be so blind to their daughters’ inappropriate behaviors.
“You help Mrs. Meche carry all that yeah,” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” Polly answered dutifully.
The sun had been beating down on the painted boards of the front step and Polly gasped as the boards burned her bare feet.
“You should be ashamed, yeah, dressed like that,” Mrs. Meche snapped the moment the door of Early’s Butcher Shop closed.
Polly did not respond; Mrs. Meche would not have listened anyway.
She winced again as the sunbaked dirt burned the soles of her feet. The dust also rose up and coated her sweat soaked legs bahis firmaları to mid-calf.
The interior of Mrs. Meche’s Bakery was almost unbearable; there was a large oven burning, and two large cast iron vats filled with bubbling corn oil.
“Now, you want you maybe a doughnut?” Mrs. Meche offered.
She wanted the girl to go back to her father and tell her father how sweet she, Margaret Meche could be.
“No ma’am, but thank you,” Polly declined.
She just wanted to get away from the unpleasant woman, get out of the unbearable heat of the bakery.
“Oh, no, take one, and you take one for your sister yeah,” the woman insisted.
“No ma’am, thank you though,” Polly repeated and turned and left the shop.
Outside, she pulled the front of her smock away from her flesh, gasped for breath, and then crossed the dirt road again.
“Where your shoes go?” Early asked when the red head beauty entered the shop.
“On my feet,” Polly answered.
“They some ugly shoes yeah; look just like dirty feet,” Early chided.
“Too hot wear them,” Polly answered truthfully.
“Too hot wear you a shift under that?” Early asked, letting his daughter know he had noticed the lack of undergarments.
“Man, Daddy, it too hot wear anything,” Polly complained.
“Get you your shift on, yeah,” Early ordered. “I’m make a couple ham sandwiches; want you some cheese on that?”
“Yes sir,” Polly agreed. “And Molly want that too.”
Early cut three thick slabs of ham and put it onto some of Mrs. Meche’s thick crust bread. The thick, hard crust enabled the bread to hold up to the humidity. Early did spread a dab of mayonnaise on the sandwiches; that crust could be a little dry and hard to swallow.
Molly and Polly ate their sandwiches out on the back porch, each enjoying the rich soft cheese. They knew they needed to eat the ham; it was almost four days old, but the cheese was a rare and pleasant treat.
“Here, Daddy,” Polly called out, carrying their cleaned dishes into the shop.
“Uh huh, you go get your sister,” Early ordered as Thomas David Daigrepont’s 1927 Pierce-Arrow came to a stop in front of the shop.
“And you tell her put her shoes and that shift she ain’t got one on,” Early yelled as Polly scampered to the rear door.
“Yes sir,” Polly answered.
“Daddy says put you them shoes on and your shift too; Thomas David here yeah,” Polly said
Molly gave a quick glance around, and then pulled the damp dress up and off.
Polly watched as Molly’s full breasts jiggled and wiggled, large brown nipples stiffening with excitement at her naughtiness.
Molly’s crotch and pale white belly were covered by a blanket of dark brown curls that extended from hip to hip and to just under her navel.
Molly pulled the shift on, then pulled her dress on, and then pulled her long brown hair out of her shift and dress. She combed her fingers through her hair, and then tugged on the dress, smoothing it down.
Molly pulled her shoes on, but did not buckle them.
“How I look?” she asked.
“Pretty like you always do,” Polly said a hint of jealousy evident in her voice.
Inside the shop, Early watched as Thomas David Daigrepont sat in the automobile, waiting until the dust of the road had settled back down again before opening the door of the luxury automobile.
Early grimaced as the man paused and used the reflection of his windscreen to comb his oiled hair, check that his necktie was properly aligned.
“It a hundred degrees and you doing all that?” Early muttered, watching the man’s grooming with disgust.
“Polly said Thomas David here, Molly said, her unbuckled shoes clomping on the wooden floor of the building.
“Buckle them shoes yeah,” Early ordered as Thomas David checked his teeth in the car window’s reflection. “You look at this peacock, huh?”
Molly watched as Thomas David finally decided he was at his best, smiled and sauntered to the building’s entrance.
“How are you, Mr. Chopin, Molly,” Thomas David smiled brightly as he entered the building. “My goodness, it is a hot one today, isn’t it?”
“It ain’t cold,” Early said flatly.
“No, no, I suppose it isn’t,” Thomas David smiled.
“Who your daddy is?” Early said suddenly, startling the young man with his abrupt, curt demeanor.
“Why, that would be David Daigrepont, married to Mary Thomas,” Thomas David stammered. “That’s where my name…”
Molly looked at her father, puzzled. Daddy seemed to like Thomas David, had even had the man stop by their house for Sunday dinner. But this harsh tone, Molly recognized, was the tone her father used when either she, or Polly were caught telling a falsehood.
“And David got him a daddy?” Early snapped, fixing Thomas David with a hard stare.
“Uh, yes sir, that uh, that would be General Clayton David Daigrepont, the Blind General,” Thomas David answered, growing quite flustered.
No one had ever questioned his claim to General Clayton David Daigrepont. To most people, the War Between the States was a faraway kaçak iddaa memory; very few of the soldiers were still around sixty five years after the cannon fire had quieted.
But most could recite the names of all the Generals of the Confederacy and could recount with pride the heroic acts of the soldiers in gray.
“Pull you up a chair yeah,” Early demanded, pointing to the three stools that sat in front of the counter.
The stools were there for his customers to sit and wait while Early filled their meat and dairy orders.
“Yes sir,” Thomas David said, trying valiantly to smile.
He glanced at Molly, to see if he could gauge anything from the girl’s face, but she looked baffled as well.
He did linger a bit on Molly’s ample chest. The sweet girl had allowed him great liberties with those magnificent mounds of flesh, had even giggled when he suckled on her nipples and made smacking sounds like an infant would make.
She’d not allowed him to traverse beneath her navel, but that, Thomas David was sure would only take him a few more attempts. Molly was a passionate woman and quite often moaned her desires as he fondled her breasts.
He knew his biggest obstacle to Molly was her father, Earl ‘Early’ Chopin. But Thomas David Daigrepont already had a plan for Mr. Chopin. And if those plans panned out the way he hoped they would, Thomas David could also help himself to the slightly less attractive red headed daughter. Polly’s face might not be as beautiful as Molly’s, but her body was equally splendid.
And if his plans didn’t work out? Thomas David was already courting a Russian beauty out in Elgee, Louisiana.
Thomas David turned his attention to early, smile still plastered on his face.
“Won him the Battle of Paulton in North Louisiana, I remember right,” Early agreed, reaching under the counter and pulling out a large envelope.
“Yes sir,” Thomas David smiled as he settled back on his stool. “Surprised the Union troops that were to rally with General Beard’s troops in Monroe, Louisiana. During the battle, he got shot in the head and was blinded, but he continued to fight; he did not want his men to know he’d been wounded.”
Early unfolded a yellowed page of a newspaper and spread it on the counter.
Molly reached across the counter and touched Thomas David’s hand; proud to know the grandson of such a heroic man.
“Yeah, it say all that right here,” Early agreed, using his finger as a guide on the page.
“Yes sir,” Thomas David agreed, smiling at Molly.
“Funny thing and I mean this don’t make no sense,” Early said, not looking up from the paper.
“What’s that?” Thomas David asked, leaning forward to try to see what Early was looking at.
“It say right here, General Clayton Daigrepont had him a woman was supposed marry but Gloria Ann Winthrop was from New York and left out of New Orleans when the War Between The States started up,” Early said.
“But then he returned to New Orleans…” Thomas David said, a hot flush coming to his face.
“And went to Hotel Dieu and stayed there until he passed just three years after the Battle of Paulton,” Early said and turned the newspaper page around so that Thomas David could read it. “Ain’t never married.”
“What…” Thomas David stammered, frantically searching the page.
“Ain’t had him no children neither,” Early said harshly.
“What that mean?” Molly asked, beautiful face twisted in confusion.
“Mean that Mr. Thomas David Daigrepont here is a flat out liar,” Early said.
“Now see here!” Thomas David protested.
“No, Mr. Daigrepont, you listen up,” Early said, pulling himself up to his five foot, five inch height. “I done me some asking around.”
Thomas David jumped down from his stool, hoping his five foot, nine inch height would intimidate the short, stout butcher.
“Lot of them knew your daddy out in Lafayette,” Early continued. “He liked taking things ain’t his.”
“That’s not…” Thomas David blustered.
Molly looked at the handsome man, turned and fled the building through the rear door.
“Molly! Wait! I can explain!” Thomas David called out and prepared to run after her.
“Hanged him in nineteen and nine,” Early said stepping in front of the man, blocking his path.
“And your daddy and your momma? They ain’t never married neither,” Early said, easily shoving the man backward.
“Now see here!” Thomas David cried out, near tears.
“So, you a liar, and you a bastard, and your daddy’s a thief and you coming around my daughter?” Early snarled. “Boy, best get on out of here yeah.”
The thirty year old man slumped over, nodded his head, and left the shop.
On the back porch, despite the sweltering heat, despite the stale sweat smell emanating from her sister, Polly held the heartbroken Molly as the girl sobbed.
Early opened the rear door and felt weary as he watched his little girl sob. He wanted to comfort her, but he simply did not know how.
“I’m sorry yeah,” he finally said.
“I know,” Molly agreed, using the hem of her kaçak bahis dress to wipe her sweaty, tear streaked face.
“We got any that cane sugar left?” Early asked Polly.
“Two jar; why?” Polly asked, getting to her feet. “The corn not coming today, huh?”
“No, no, why you two don’t take some and we make us some ice cream, huh?” Early said, hoping the treat would soothe his daughter’s wounded soul.
In the meat cooler, Early chipped off some ice and dumped it into the wooden bucket. Then he dumped some cream, some milk, and some cocoa powder into the tin container, and gave the handle a few cranks.
“Here, Daddy,” Polly excitedly said, holding out a cup of the sticky syrup.
“Now, Daddy old and he ain’t going be able do all this cranking by himself no,” Early said and Polly grabbed the handle and began churning furiously.
Early watched the eighteen year old girl’s heavy breasts wiggle and wobble as she cranked. The cool air from the ice in the bucket, as well as the rasping back and forth against the cotton of her dress caused her fat nipples to harden considerably. But he did not chide her for neglecting to put on her shift as he had ordered her to do.
“My arm ’bout fall off yeah,” she finally said to Molly.
“Here, I ain’t no big baby,” Molly teased her sister.
Early pursed his lips as Molly also began cranking fast and furious. It was obvious, at some time in between Thomas David’s departure, and the fetching of the cane sugar syrup, Molly had removed her shift.
Her breasts also jiggled and wiggled freely as she cranked and cranked.
Early smirked; it was obvious that Molly was tiring and quickly. But Molly would not give her sister the satisfaction of seeing her fail.
“It my turn yeah,” he said and Molly gratefully relinquished the handle.
He turned the crank until he felt a hard resistance to the crank and made Polly grab three bowls and three spoons.
Then the three sat on the customers’ stools and ate the treat.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Molly whispered and kissed him on his lips.
They both giggled.
“Your lips cold yeah,” Early said.
“Fixing tell you that too,” Molly laughed.
“Here, let me see,” Polly begged and Early kissed the eighteen year old girl.
“Ooh, they cold yeah!” Polly giggled.
“Now go on, get out of here,” Early said as he heard an automobile come to a stop outside.
Their dresses clung to their shapely rumps as they scampered out the rear door.
“Help you?” Early asked as two strangers came into the shop.
One of the men was short and thin, with a pinched looking face. The other man was almost six feet tall, broad shouldered, handsome.
The short, thin man plastered a smile on his face. The smile looked more like a grimace, but Early returned his smile.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, uh, look here,” the man said in an obvious New Orleans’ accent. “We uh, we got us a couple of broads, see what I’m telling you?”
“And you wanting you a ham?” Early asked. “Or maybe a good chicken? I got me a capon out back been feeding him plenty of corn he about…”
“Naw, naw, we uh, Sam here and me? We hear you’re the Joe in the know, the man go to, need a little sauce, huh? Huh? Ha ha,” the smaller man said again.
“The who?” Early asked.
“See, these broads? They’re wanting a little party, see what I’m telling you?” the smaller man lowered his voice.
“Well, I got some cheese, goes good with the ham, or how about some corned beef?” Early suggested.
“We’re looking for some booze,” Sam finally said, voice harsh, almost angry.
“Yeah, yeah, see, these broads? They get a little of the sauce in them? They kind of get a little…” the smaller man looked around to make sure they were alone. “…they get a little wild, see what I’m telling you?”
“This is a Butcher shop; I got meat. I got me some meat, a little dairy too, got me some eggs,” Early said, indicating the shop with a wave of his hand.
Then Early leaned toward the two men. The two men leaned toward Early.
“But I don’t got no booze no. That’s illegal and I got me two girls and they ain’t got them no momma,” Early claimed. “I break the law, what going happen them?”
“But our friend, he says you want the best hooch around, go see Earl Chopin,” the smaller man protested.
“This friend got him a name?” Early asked.
“Thomas David Daigrepont,” Sam said.
“Never heard of him but you see him, you tell him he a liar and his daddy’s a thief,” Early smiled.
“But these broads…” the smaller man spluttered.
“Now, you get you some meat or get on out of here,” Early said.
“…they’re expecting us to get them some booze!” the smaller man protested.
“Next time, get you the booze,” Early smiled. “THEN you get you the broads. Broads a lot easier find than booze yeah.”
“I thought Thomas David was keeping company with your uh, your older daughter,” Sam questioned.
“I’m ask her yeah, but I don’t know me no Thomas David Daigrepont,” Early shook his head. “Sound to me like some boy who got him a momma and daddy ain’t never married, though.”
The two men left the building. Early carefully propped the shotgun back on the rack just under the counter. Then he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.
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