A Plantation's Secrets Ch. 02

He was unavoidable. In the week since she'd seen Mae out in the barn with Abraham, Caroline had attempted to keep him from her sights at all costs, but her goal proved impossible. Mr. Banks had grown fond of the massive man, "his perfect specimen," he called him, and had slowly but surely made him a part of every aspect of the household. Abraham brought firewood in from the cold, delivered news when old Joseph felt his bones too weary for the trip into town, even continued to tend to the rose garden at her dismay.

"He's got a green thumb, Caroline," Mr. Banks said, sipping tea beside his wife on the porch as she looked off with pouty eyes, her garden before them. "More than I can say for you." Mr. Banks laughed, an old, hoarse chuckle that grated her somewhere deep, bruised her ego not because of the fact he was right — she was an awful gardener, and merely took it up as a hobby for lack of a better one — but because it was Abraham who had taken her place. That night he had seen her watching him had rarely left her mind, and to see him in her garden, in her house, made her want to walk straight up to him and slap him across the face. Who did he think he was, so smug in his public display with Mae? For him to think it was acceptable. For her to have liked it. . .

"I'd like him gone," Caroline said, looking at her husband with cold blue eyes.

"Oh you stop," the old man said, still recovering from his laugh. "Abraham is a blessing. If I could have ten of him we'd be better off because of it. You just learn to work that garden alongside him. Play nice, Caroline."

The day was beautiful with numerous shades of blue in the sky that gave way to a sun just dampened enough by a shallow wind to dissuade a blistering heat. Mr. Banks rose with the help of his cane and stretched his legs, yawning deeply. "I wonder how Joseph is feeling today," he said. "The man's just about seen his last day, I tell you. He should be pulling up any minute now." They both had business in town that day, as Mr. Banks had to wire a message, and Caroline had a new dress she'd ordered stitched at the local seamstress's.

When it was clear no carriage would be rounding the corner, Mr. Banks yelled loudly at Mae, who appeared forthwith.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where in the world is Joseph?"

"Believe he's sick, sir."

"Still?"

"Yes, sir."

Caroline eyed Mae with such ferocity that Mae nearly looked over with a look pleading for her to say what, exactly, she had done wrong. For some days now her mistress had been curt with her, if not downright hostile, and with every command and insult she had grown concerned that she might in fact be let go for reasons only left up to her imagination.

"Do get the old man," Caroline said. "Immediately."

"No, no," Mr. Banks said. "Let Joseph rest up. He's clearly in no position to do his job as of now. Tell Abraham to pull the coach up for us, Mae."

"I will not ride with him!" Caroline collected herself, but it was too late, and Mr. Banks looked at her as if she'd lost her mind in one moment.

"You will neither yell at me in such a manner nor speak on Abraham in such a manner," Mr. Banks said. "Now I don't know what's gotten into you in regards to that man, but you'll quit this instance, you understand? He's a hard worker and without Joseph we really have no other option." He shook his head, nodding for Mae to leave and fetch Abraham. "Honestly Caroline, sometimes you can just be too much."

It was almost like magic, the negro's efficiency. As if he had prepared for the sudden occasion, the carriage was in front of the house in a matter of minutes, the horses clopping ahead, Abraham sitting above them, a bright, white smile on his face as he approached. He did not have on Joseph's usual uniform, as it certainly would not have fit him — rather he had on a tight undershirt, one that showcased the defined stretch of muscles cascading down his torso, as well as his usual white pants. Working the fields seemed to have made him even bigger than when he arrived, and those pants looked just about ready to burst under the strain of his enormous thighs , enormous calves, enormous everything. . .

"Mr. and Mrs. Banks," Abraham said, nodding. "Please to be of service."

He gave Caroline a wink and she pretended to ignore it. As Abraham hopped off the carriage she found herself pulling her hair back and straightening out her blouse, as if there was need to make herself appear appropriate — as if this were someone to impress. Yet it happened against her will, and by the time she was done Abraham was already extending a hand to help her into the carriage's cabin.

Mr. Banks was quite fond of his stage coach, as he had its parts specially delivered from England, and prepared to his specifications. It's large indoor cabin was closed with enough seating for four, and gold lined the entirety of the outfit. The coachbox for the driver was an extended seat in front of the cabin, and he was known in town not just for the opulence of this great mode of transportation, but for Joseph's sudden appearance, high in the air, as they neared the main thoroughfare, giving way to the majesty of the outfit as a whole as they grew closer. Although most people in town were used to the stagecoach by now, there were always a few who stopped and stared as Mr. Banks walked out the cabin, and the attention was more powerful than any intoxicant, as far he could figure.

As with most tasks, Abraham needed no instruction in how to tend to Mr. and Mrs. Banks as a driver. He delicately held Mrs. Banks hand and helped her to her seat, even though she tried to fend off his attempts at first, and he then clutched Mr. Banks forearm and did the same.

"To town, then? Abraham asked.

"Yes, the quicker the better," Mr. Banks said. "Caroline is in something of a mood."

"On the quick," Abraham said, giving Caroline a smile as he shut the door. She looked well today, her cheeks a damp red from powder, long eyelashes giving way to her bright, childish eyes that seemed to display an equally childish anger, the sort easily cast away with a bit of reward, a bit of excitement. Abraham knew women, and his effect on women, and he knew that already she was beginning to feel his hold creep over her. Her anger seemed born of nothing to the old man but Abraham knew better — her stare from her bedroom that one fateful night was more than shock, it was lust, a woman wanting. It was what he'd expected, that moment — waited for no less. What he did not expect was how the incident would take a hold on him. Seeing her cover herself with her dress now, her slight frame and rude prudishness in public, coupled with her icy resolve in interacting with him, had the natural outcome of making him more interested than ever before.

The road into town was about a half hours drive, and although Abraham had seen Joseph ride off many mornings before at a pace fit for leisure, he had no such ideas. Mr. Banks had asked for promptness, and it was promptness he would get. Caroline gasped as the horses took off, and Mr. Banks grabbed for his hat, as if some invisible wind brought on by their speed might creep into the cabin and take it off.

"The boy's going to kill us!" he said, although the rush brought a smile on his face. He opened the curtains for a moment to look out at the passing fields of tobacco, long rows of greenery appearing and disappearing, yet only giving way to more of the same.

"Tell him to slow down," Caroline said.

"He's only giving what I asked for," Mr. Banks said. "Can't blame the boy for that."

Before long the town appeared before them, wooden outfits for the most part, with one or two brick buildings jettisoned between them, put there by men with money or men who wished to appear as if they did. A few children rushed alongside the coachbox, and its speed was so great that all those going about their business stopped for a moment, man or woman, to watch it slow and come to a stop right in front of a Western Union depot.

Abraham jumped off and allowed Mr. and Mrs. Banks out of the carriage, and the old man seemed aglow from the ride.

"Well you woke me up to say the least!" Mr. Banks said. "Good heavens. I thought I might faint. And I'm surprised my wife didn't."

"It was a bit of a circus act, if you ask me," Caroline said, revealing a fan from her purse and using it even without any need to.

"Only trying to heed your wishes, sir," Abraham said.

"That you, Francis?" a voice barked, interrupting Mr. Banks' response.

Abraham saw another older gentleman approach, a rotund individual with large sideburns creeping down his face. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming into town?"

"I only decided this morning, you old cad!" Mr. Banks said, shaking the man's hand.

"Victor, a pleasure," Caroline said, although her voice was drab enough to contradict her words.

"And Caroline, hello."

They explained their business to the man, and before long Mr. Banks had been drawn into the man's plans to share drinks in his office, which was at the height of one of the brick buildings that stood out in town.

"That sounds quite nice," Mr. Banks said. "Say, Abraham." He snapped his fingers, and Abraham came to his side, smiling like he meant it.

"Sir?"

"Please accommodate Mrs. Banks to the seamstress as I join Victor for a drink. I'll meet you two at the carriage when I've wired my telegrams."

Abraham nodded and watched the man off, and only then did he turn to Caroline, his eyes nestled upon hers, a smile creeping across his face.

"Don't you look dare look at me like that," she said.

"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Banks," he said.

She looked around and saw that they had blended in, that they were simply a mistress and her slave about town, and under the noise of the traffic she felt comfortable speaking, an anger boiling up from within her that she had hid up to this moment finally spewing forth.

"We'll clear this matter up this instance," she seethed. "I saw what you did with Mae, and I know you saw me as well. The scene was upsetting, and if I ever see you cavorting with my help again I will have you dealt with immediately."

"Dealt with, Ms. Banks?"

"Yes," she said, looking him up and down, as if his words had been a threat. "And you'll be gone just as quick as you came. Now you'll stay by the carriage for the duration of our trip here. The last thing I need is a miscreant like you accompanying me off somewhere."

For a moment he nodded, silently, and she seemed taken aback by his willingness to heed directions. "Good," she said.

Yet when she began walking she heard his voice, a loud, deep bellow from behind her: "Afraid of what might happen?"

And when she turned to face the question he was towering before her, inches away, her face nearly hitting up against his chest. "You don't need to fear anything, Ms. Banks. Your husband wants me here to protect you, give you comfort. That's my job, m'am. Make things easy for you."

A part of her truly felt like a child, so small was she beneath his enormous frame, and a terribly grotesque thought crossed her mind, wholly against her will, one which she struggled to put somewhere deep where she'd never find it again: it was an image of Abraham, fully erect as he'd been with Mae, yet he was now Caroline's, and she was holding his erection, leading him by it, her tiny hands groping the shaft as if it was the tool that guided his every move. He was hers, then, her protector, provider, for no man would think to even gaze her way with such a giant at her side. It was a disgusting thought, of course, and she quickly disregarded the thought and collected herself.

"You'll stay behind me," she said, turning again to walk away. "Ten paces at the very least."

"Whatever you say, m'am."

He did as he was told, could not help but stare at her long, flowing dress as it carried from side to side with each step, imagining the long legs beneath them, leading to her pert behind. It was only the sounds of the seamstress's shop that pulled him from this thoughts — the sound of a sewing machine boomed along the walls and squawking women hurried this way and that, some heading towards other sewing stations, others carrying dresses to be worked upon.

He perched himself near the door where they expected him to stay, and Caroline entered into a conversation with the owner, an old hunched over woman who had drawn in her eyebrows.

"We have it right here for you," the woman said, bringing out a long green dress, bedazzled with glossy etchings along its sides. "Do try it on, all the girls have been marveling at it."

"I really should get going," Caroline said, and Abraham thought he noticed her face redden, just a tad.

"Oh, please, we all want to see." The other women were nodding in enthusiasm at the woman's words, and Caroline knew how rude it would be to deny their wishes.

"If you all insist," she said sheepishly.

She disappeared behind a curtain with the older woman, and a silence overtook the room until she returned, at which point the other women offered gasps of approval. "Marvelous." "Pure elegance, Mrs. Banks." "Stunning!"

The dress accentuated Caroline's best features, it's cut making her seem somehow taller, sleeker, and it's angled straps at the shoulders jettisoned down farther than what seem appropriate, her bosom raised and plump.

"It's just what I wanted," Caroline said to the older woman. "It's perfect."

When Abraham left the store with her, dress in hand, she was aglow, although she tried to hide it behind her usual veneer of coldness.

"You looked beautiful, m'am."

"Those harridans were pretending. Deep down they were thinking about how much they loathe me, not about how I looked."

"Don't know why you say that. Like I said, you looked beautiful."

They were walking beside one another, at quite the clip, and Caroline seemed to be too caught up in conversation to realize how close Abraham was to her, how swiftly he'd disregarded her want of him to be ten paces behind at all times. The way he saw it, he was only doing what she truly desired, in her heart of hearts.

"They all think I married for money, as if they wouldn't do such a thing if they shared my upbringing. And although I appreciate the sentiment when it comes to my dress, I'm not sure the men around these parts would be fond of hearing such things from the likes of you."

"Not the dress, m'am, you. You looked beautiful." Caroline at this point refused to acknowledge him, yet his disregard for custom, his immense, and unending show of attraction towards her, had an air of knightly romanticism she had only read about in books. But how to reconcile such thoughts with the man who had been out in the barn with Mae? It was impossible. He was a louse!

They reached the carriage, but Mr. Banks was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is my husband?"

Abraham shrugged.

"Do fetch him for me," Caroline said. "He's probably with that larded cow Victor getting drunk. That's the last thing I need. I suppose I'll wait in the carriage."

Abraham nodded, as if to agree with her wants, and opened the cabin door for Caroline. She climbed in, yet the door did not close until Abraham had entered alongside her. He sat opposite of her, so enormous was he that he need to crane his head to the side just to fit.

"Are you insane?!" Caroline gasped. "How dare you enter this carriage with me?! The people outside — my husband - you've lost your—"

Abraham reached forward and took Caroline's hand.

He simply held it. Caroline said nothing - it was so large that it engulfed her own, and it disappeared beneath the calloused, tar-colored paw in a single instance, enveloped in the warmth there.

"Abraham," she began, but said nothing else.

The curtains to the carriage were closed, and Abraham knew he only had a moment, and that he would use it to the best of his abilities. "You were looking that night because you liked what you saw," he said. "I know what you want. I can give it to you, Caroline."

He brought her hand to his chest, and she felt the protruding slab of muscle at his breast, at his midsection, at his stomach. . .

"It's — Mrs. Banks," she said, shallowly, as her hand had slid down to the top of his trousers. She looked down to find the outline of his penis almost sinking beneath the point of his knee like an immense snake, and the image almost brought tears to her eyes, the enormity, the existence of such an item only inches before her.

Abraham leaned forward then and placed his hand at the crook of her neck, his lips sensuously meeting a point inches beneath her ear as she moaned. Her hand, if only looking to steady herself as her senses took over, reached forward and grabbed what was nearest to her, and it was Abraham, and what she thought was the girth of his massive leg was actually his member, and she could feel it pulse through the soft fabric that Abraham wore.

Abraham's lips reached her ear, kissed the lobe, before whispering to her. "Is it true?"

"What?" she said, mad that he'd interrupted this moment, this awful business that she could not get enough of.

"What the women say. Did you marry him for the money? Is there nothing more?"

"If you mean is there anything more than talk, and parties, and all that comes with marriage except that very thing which fortifies it..." she softly, almost politely, squeezed his bulge, running her hand down the concealed pole she wished so eagerly to release. "Then yes."

"YOU CANNOT!" A voice bellowed down the street, and Caroline nearly shrieked.

Abraham was quick to act. "The dress," he said," and he took her dress from the seat beside her, covered his massive bulge with it, and quickly, in one movement, exited the cabin.

There was no one in the immediate vicinity — people were walking as if he was not even there, had never been near the carriage, yet down the street, approaching, came Mr. Banks and Victor, his associate, both yelling, in good humor, at one another.

"I say I can and I will!" Mr. Banks said. His stumbling made it very clear what state he was in, and Abraham relaxed, held Caroline's dress against his pants, concealing what needed to be hidden as Mr. Banks finally made his way to the cabin.

"Abraham what a fine sight!" Mr. Banks said, stumbling and slurring, his face red with the effects of drink. "Look at my specimen, Victor," Mr. Banks said, holding Abraham's arm like a toddler might. "How lucky am I to have, in my beautiful possession, a beast such as this?"

"He's quite fine," Victor said, quite drunk himself. "But he will not be helping you to win this bet."

At that moment the curtain to the cabin opened, and Caroline looked out for a moment before helping herself out and walking over to Mr. Banks. "What is this all about?" she asked, although her voice was uneven, still flustered from what had passed moments before.

"Oh, Caroline!" Mr. Banks said. "You'll be right to know that Victor and I have made a little bet of sorts."

"And what would that be?"

"Well everyone from the saloon to Victor's offices saw Abraham here ride this carriage into town like a gladiator riding some sort of chariot, and Victor here seems to think that the impression he left is that he's some sort of showman, that he's better than myself at riding my OWN carriage. Which is not the case — no one rides like me, as you know, dear."

"You're practically falling over, honey," Caroline said. "Please, just get in the coach so we can return home."

"No!" he said, slurring. "I will drive and I will show all of the SCOUNDRELS in town just what I'm capable of."

"He's put fifty dollars on making it home and sending word back that he's done so before the hour," Victor said.