and
surrounding area.
She knew that some sort of party
was taking place but was confused, not
really knowing anyone but being the center
of attention. She flirted, fanning herself
and bending lower than needed to allow
the young men to get a better look at her
assets. Within minutes she had men
fawning over her, offering her drinks and
requesting the opportunity to dance with
her later in the event. The power of her
position was readily apparent and she was
reveling in it. In her dream, she looked
about, taking in the eyes of the men around
her, all intent on her form.
Her role as plantation tease
complete, she excused herself and
retreated
into
the
mansion.
Large,
imported doors from England swung open
to a grand entryway, hardwood floor and
spiral staircase that dominated the center
of the home. Two butlers opened both
doors to allow her entrance; the bone
hoop skirt needed a wide birth. She could
hear herself speaking with a thick
Southern accent, moving freely among the
guests in the drawing room, stopping to
see if any conversation was of interest to
her but knowing that she was only there to
entice the men and drive them crazy. A
goal she was easily attaining. Growing
tired of the little game she was playing she
looked about for the man she knew truly
wanted her and she, him.
Searching the main floor he was
nowhere to be seen. Gliding up the stairs,
she went from room to room, trying not to
be obvious that she was looking for a
particular individual, for if she was found
out it would lead to certain ruination.
Unable to locate him in the plantation
mansion she ventured outside to the rear
of the house that led to the river and the
rice fields beyond. Holding up the dress to
move more quickly, she moved to the
kitchen adjacent to the mansion, peered
inside and saw the source of her yearning.
Two black female slaves stood, sweat
beading up on their skin from the intense
heat of the kitchen and the warmth of the
day. Both reacted with surprise when they
saw Blanche at the doorway.
“You ought not to be here ma’am
this here’s for slaves and kitchen worka’s.
There be sumpin’ we can hep ya wit?” the
older one asked.
“Not you, but I need a strong back
to do some lifting for me, need that big
fella there,” Blanche said, pointing to the
black man, back to her, putting wood on
the large fire where the pig was roasting.
Jasper recognized the voice,
turned around, but could not stand fully
without cracking his head on the shallow
ceiling. A wide smile crossed his lips,
which he immediately muted when the
kitchen workers scowled in his direction.
“Yes ma'am, Ms. Delaney, ya’ll be
needin’ Jasper’s help with somethin’?”
His broad, hairless chest, turned
dark from the hours in the cotton fields
glistened with droplets of perspiration,
expanding in and out as he recuperated
from the job of feeding the fire.
“Yes, I surely do Jasper, come out
here a minute and let me get a better look
at you. Need to make sure you’re up to the
job,” winking at just the right moment so
the other help couldn’t see.
Jasper ducked his head low
enough to exit the kitchen and stood before
his owner.
“What you be needin’ missy?” he
said, a knowing look in his eye.
“You know perfectly well what I
‘be needin’ and I’m not going to get it
here! Come with me.”
Blanche turned and strode in the
direction of the river, Jasper close behind,
looking over his shoulder to see if anyone
was looking or following. Once at the
river, the pair knew there was an old
kitchen structure that had partially burned
down, with three walls still erect.
Standing inside, one could see across the
river but those in the house could not see
what was going on inside. Blanche
scurried around the wall and into the
structure, turning to face Jasper as he
entered.
She went to him without worry of
soiling her dress or fear of retribution
surrounding area.
She knew that some sort of party
was taking place but was confused, not
really knowing anyone but being the center
of attention. She flirted, fanning herself
and bending lower than needed to allow
the young men to get a better look at her
assets. Within minutes she had men
fawning over her, offering her drinks and
requesting the opportunity to dance with
her later in the event. The power of her
position was readily apparent and she was
reveling in it. In her dream, she looked
about, taking in the eyes of the men around
her, all intent on her form.
Her role as plantation tease
complete, she excused herself and
retreated
into
the
mansion.
Large,
imported doors from England swung open
to a grand entryway, hardwood floor and
spiral staircase that dominated the center
of the home. Two butlers opened both
doors to allow her entrance; the bone
hoop skirt needed a wide birth. She could
hear herself speaking with a thick
Southern accent, moving freely among the
guests in the drawing room, stopping to
see if any conversation was of interest to
her but knowing that she was only there to
entice the men and drive them crazy. A
goal she was easily attaining. Growing
tired of the little game she was playing she
looked about for the man she knew truly
wanted her and she, him.
Searching the main floor he was
nowhere to be seen. Gliding up the stairs,
she went from room to room, trying not to
be obvious that she was looking for a
particular individual, for if she was found
out it would lead to certain ruination.
Unable to locate him in the plantation
mansion she ventured outside to the rear
of the house that led to the river and the
rice fields beyond. Holding up the dress to
move more quickly, she moved to the
kitchen adjacent to the mansion, peered
inside and saw the source of her yearning.
Two black female slaves stood, sweat
beading up on their skin from the intense
heat of the kitchen and the warmth of the
day. Both reacted with surprise when they
saw Blanche at the doorway.
“You ought not to be here ma’am
this here’s for slaves and kitchen worka’s.
There be sumpin’ we can hep ya wit?” the
older one asked.
“Not you, but I need a strong back
to do some lifting for me, need that big
fella there,” Blanche said, pointing to the
black man, back to her, putting wood on
the large fire where the pig was roasting.
Jasper recognized the voice,
turned around, but could not stand fully
without cracking his head on the shallow
ceiling. A wide smile crossed his lips,
which he immediately muted when the
kitchen workers scowled in his direction.
“Yes ma'am, Ms. Delaney, ya’ll be
needin’ Jasper’s help with somethin’?”
His broad, hairless chest, turned
dark from the hours in the cotton fields
glistened with droplets of perspiration,
expanding in and out as he recuperated
from the job of feeding the fire.
“Yes, I surely do Jasper, come out
here a minute and let me get a better look
at you. Need to make sure you’re up to the
job,” winking at just the right moment so
the other help couldn’t see.
Jasper ducked his head low
enough to exit the kitchen and stood before
his owner.
“What you be needin’ missy?” he
said, a knowing look in his eye.
“You know perfectly well what I
‘be needin’ and I’m not going to get it
here! Come with me.”
Blanche turned and strode in the
direction of the river, Jasper close behind,
looking over his shoulder to see if anyone
was looking or following. Once at the
river, the pair knew there was an old
kitchen structure that had partially burned
down, with three walls still erect.
Standing inside, one could see across the
river but those in the house could not see
what was going on inside. Blanche
scurried around the wall and into the
structure, turning to face Jasper as he
entered.
She went to him without worry of
soiling her dress or fear of retribution
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