Chapter 03
The gentlemen of New Orleans disport themselves at a pique-nique
The August sun blazed down on the porch. I sat in the shade, surveying Parcbeau, the plantation of my ancestors and now my care. Last winter's ice, carefully hoarded in the icehouse, tinkled in my glass and brought some welcome relief to the heat. I mopped my brow with a silk handkerchief, and carefully brushed a speck of dirt off my white linen trousers.
I beheld with interest a lone horseman, trotting briskly up the avenue of trees which led to the house. The groom ran out to hold his horse as he dismounted and came up the steps on to the porch. Octavius, my valet, came forward to meet him. The messenger nodded to Octavius, and deposited his message on the silver tray proferred.
It had been the work of many years to bring Octavius from the slave quarters into the position of the most admired man servant in Louisiana. He approached me in his formal clothes, and bowed slightly as I reached for the large parchment envelope on the salver. I smiled as I recognized the wax seal. Pink wax impressed with two naked breasts could only mean that Mme. LaFontaine had sent another invitation.
The entertainments that she provided for the gentry of New Orleans were famous throughout Louisiana. I had spent many pleasant evenings at her establishment. This time I read, "Mme. LaFontaine requests the presence of M. Deveraux for a pique-nique on the greensward behind the Palais du Sport, Saturday at 1 in the afternoon." I looked up and saw Octavius grinning as if he had already anticipated the content of the letter. I told him, "Tell the messenger that I accept with pleasure."
Octavius conveyed my acceptance to the messenger, even though he had of course already heard me say it. My manservant dropped a small piece of silver in the slave's hand, and waved him on his way. He jumped on the horse and galloped down the avenue. I was sure this great show of haste was only for my benefit, and that as soon as the darkie was out of sight he would dawdle his way back to New Orleans.
On the appointed day, we left after breakfast to board the launch which conveyed us across Lake Pontchartrain to the city. The breeze on the lake was refreshing and I sipped a mint julep as we made our way across. A hired hack was waiting on the other side, and it took us right out to Mme. LaFontaine's famous house.
All New Orleans knew that she was a notorious beauty, the belle of the ball at eighteen. We also knew how the bank had called in her father's note, and the loss of the plantation led her father and elder brother to commit suicide. Somehow the girl managed to obtain a loan to buy this house near the river, and in the succeeding fifteen years had established her fortune and her place among New Orleans' gentlemen, if not in polite society.
I sent Octavius off with the hack to see the luggage to the hotel, after giving him enough money that he could visit the shanties on the other side of the creek later. Standing on the porch of the Palais du Sport were three of the teenage octoroon girls who served as attendants and greeters. They were all dressed for the weather in light linen outfits, and had broad hats trimmed with feathers on their head. These girls were much admired by the white men in town, and Mme LaFontaine sometimes accepted a few of them in their mid-teens to learn the social graces. When they reached their eighteenth birthday, they would enter the business, and their virginity would fetch a high price at an auction. In the meantime they served around the house but never entered the rooms where the gentlemen conducted business, either sporting or personal.
They twirled their silk parasols and directed me to the broad lawn behind the house. One approached me and said, "Welcome, M. Deveraux. The fee for today's entertainment is $400." I handed her the gold pieces and she hooked her arm in mine and led me to the site of the pique-nique. A broad stretch of green led down toward the river. One side of it was bordered with weeping willow trees, forming a dense wood. The other side was well shaded with great oak trees, and their coolness presented a delightful respite from the summer heat. The little octoroon girl led me over to a chair near the broad table covered with a white tablecloth. She brought me a glass of cold rum punch. Then she returned to her duties as greeter.
Soon my friends were escorted into the grounds. As always at the most exclusive entertainment in the Palais, I saw Judge Beaulais, M. Delacroix of the bank, Senor Martinez who controlled the Santa Fe trade, Mr. Jackson the lawyer, and Colonel Robais from the Presidio. Little happened in New Orleans that one or another of us did not command. The lovely girls with the parasols circulated among us making light conversation.
Then two beautiful children emerged from the house, a white girl dressed in black, and a black boy dressed in white. They danced along, scattering sweet smelling flower petals on the lawn. That was the signal for Mme. LaFontaine to emerge.
She was a stunning beauty with long flowing blonde hair. She dressed in the latest French fashions, and her gown today had large hoops and many petticoats below, and nothing much above. Her bare shoulders dropped down to a large expanse of white chest and an amazing display of bosom. A broad brimmed hat and a red parasol protected all that skin from the effects of the sun. She made a deep curtsey, trusting to some cunning French engineering to keep the top of her dress from falling off.
"Welcome, mes braves, to our little pique-nique," she said. "I know you are all looking forward to an afternoon of delightful games and more delightful ladies. So without further ado, let us begin!" She waved her hands, and the two children and the three teenagers ran into the house.
"I know you have enjoyed my talented musicians before," she continued. Three girls presented themselves, carrying instruments. They were all dressed in charming silk pantaloons, thin linen shifts and broad brimmed hats, and nothing else. They took their seats under the trees.
The harpist, a tall thin octoroon girl, struck a loud chord on her instrument. Then she stood up smiling, and in a single movement dropped her shift to reveal her small and perfect tits, with rosy nipples standing up.
Then the flautist followed her example. She was a buxom black beauty and her round boobs ended in large dark nipples. Finally the Cajun girl with the tambourine shook it wildly and dropped her shift also, displaying pointed tits with puffy nipples. In their stunning semi-nudity they looked much more suited for the hot summer weather. They sat down and resumed their music.
Then from the willow trees came a tantalizing procession. The six girls who were the pride of Mme. LaFontaine's Palais emerged, wearing broad hats and carrying large parasols held in front of their bodies, which appeared to be covered by nothing else. Long naked legs projected below the parasols, and fine bare shoulders were visible above them. The girls twirled the parasols as they moved sedately toward us.
