It was the oddest feeling.

Something was watching him, but he couldn’t figure out where the something was.

It was Louis’ third day at Love Alley and already he was crazy about the place, even though he’d had to improvise a lot of basic living needs like a small refrigerator, some wiring that would never pass inspection and a large piece of wood over one window on the ground floor.

It didn’t matter—the house had woven a spell on him as soon as he’d crossed the rickety threshold.

The double doors had opened onto a scene that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. There were cobwebs, of course. Some rot—less than he’d expected—and evidence that some squatters had tried to trash the place at some point in time, but surprisingly they’d given up.

The water worked, with some encouragement, and after a little wizardry with an out of date and definitely not up to code fuse box, Louis had some light at night.

The kitchen was the most habitable, and one room upstairs seemed usable, so Louis camped out in those two locations while he worked on repairing the stairs and getting a bathroom into some kind of working order. The toilet flushed but made a noise that reminded him of some kind of horrible creature drowning in mud. Added to that was a water hammer in the plumbing system that threatened to shatter the porcelain tub.

Time passed very quickly once he’d stripped off his traveling clothes, thrown on one of his several pairs of cutoff jeans and thrown his heart into his new home.

But it hadn’t taken too long for this odd itch at the back of Louis’ neck to begin, a feeling that he wasn’t alone.

He’d disposed of the various species of wildlife that had decided to make their nests and homes inside the house, and thanked his lucky stars that none of them were deadly. He was actually a little surprised that there’d been so few, since it was clear that the area had had little, if any, human occupation for quite some time.

The downstairs window was fixed, thanks to a couple of hours of fighting with an annoyingly stubborn sash weight, and his fudged-up electrical supply was maintaining the little fridge and providing him with cream for his coffee, ice cubes, water and cold beer. All the essentials of life.

He was amazingly content, had rapidly slipped into the rhythm of life in the Bayou, and was enjoying the early morning chores and work he’d begun, finding the short rest occasionally accompanied by a snooze in the late afternoon heat of the steamy day. He’d just finished clearing out all the debris from the room he was planning on using as his master bedroom when the weight of the air settled on his bare shoulders and he wiped the sweat from his eyes. It was late — time for that break.

Perhaps now was a good moment to head out back of the house and snoop around the grounds — something Louis hadn’t had a chance to do yet. He knew there was an old, broken-down kind of jetty affair, boards that led out to the murky water and had crumbled at the end, leaving a stark little path to nowhere in particular.

He grabbed a cold bottle of water from his little fridge and left the house, wincing as the air hit him in the face like a wet rag. It was hot in the house, but outside—where the sun really went to work—it was close to unbearable.

The shade of the Bayou was a welcome relief, and Louis gladly swatted away the few mosquitoes for the price of cooler air. They’d come back in droves at sundown, he knew, but for now they were little more than a mild nuisance.

Standing at ease on the ruined dock, in his cutoff jeans and not much else, Louis had no idea what a delectably male picture he presented.

Somebody else did.


Honey Treadwell knew a fine piece of male ass when she saw one.

She should, since she’d been married twice, engaged four times and selected her lovers as carefully as she did her divorce lawyers.

And what she stared at as she quietly poled her pirogue down the Bayou made her mouth water.

Strong shoulders reflected the dappled sunlight, and an equally strong chest rose and fell as he sniffed in lungsful of the bayou air. His legs were tanned and muscular and rippled with masculinity as he raised one work-booted foot, resting it on a broken post.

She glanced at his dark hair, noted that it was a little longer than usual, mentally applauded and moved on. Downwards to those real nice cutoffs that hugged just about everything a girl could ask for. Tight.

A word that could not only describe the fit of his ragged jean shorts, but also his ass which she duly noted as he turned to watch a butterfly. And when he turned back…well, fuckin’ A, and hey hey heyyy! There was one real nice package just begging to be petted lurking behind his faded fly.

She licked her lips and poled more noisily. If this was her new neighbor, then damned if she wasn’t about to develop a lot more of that Southern hospitality than she had up to now.

Pulling down her miniscule tank top to make sure her breasts showed to their best advantage, Honey pasted an alluring smile on her face and let her pole splash in the water, scaring a few egrets into clattering flight.

He jumped, and Honey’s grin grew even bigger as she watched the bulge in his shorts expand at the sight of her itty bitty top and her plentiful titties. Both top and tits had been carefully designed to complement each other and it would appear the sizeable financial investment was paying off.

“Hi sugar. You look like you havin’ a fine ol’ time jus’ starin’ at this ol’ bayou.” The voice oozed with Southern charm, something Honey had perfected over the nine years since she’d moved to Louisiana from New Jersey.

“Er…hello?” Puzzlement, surprise and a host of other emotions chased themselves across his handsome face, and Honey was pleased to note he was having a hard time dragging his gaze from her breasts. Her nipples hardened. “I’m your neighbor, sugar. Name’s Honey. I’m as sweet as those magnolias and real sticky at times, too.” She laughed at his expression. “Don’t mind me. I live a couple turns down the Bayou there. That makes us neighbors, sugar, so I figured I’d just do the neighborly thing and come right on over to make you feel welcome.”

He extended a firm hand as she navigated the little boat efficiently up to the ruined dock. “Nice to meet you, Honey. I’m Louis. Louis Beekman. I didn’t realize I had neighbors here.”

Honey managed to slide a portion of her skin over his hand and arm as she stepped from the boat. It was a very nice sensation. The feel of his body lived up to the look of his body, and her pussy throbbed in pleasant anticipation.

Oh chèr. You an’ me is going to make the beast with two backs. An’ it’ll be sensational.