Creole Lover

Note : This story is completely fictional!

New Orleans has truly been a melting pot of cultures and races. The French took the territory from American Indians and adopted their food, transportation routes and sired children. The Spanish left a governmental structure and sperm. And there were African slaves, whose blood also intermingled with the original settlers. After the Louisiana Purchase in 1804, there was a mass migration of Europeans, especially Germans, to the newly American territory. To this day. the east bank of the Mississippi north of New Orleans is called the German Coast.

But by far the most important influx of immigrants and refugees came during the unrest and finally revolution in Haiti in the 1830s. These were not destitute escaped slaves. These were "free men of color", monied and with business savvy. They prospered and only suffered well after the Civil War, under the hateful "Jim Crow" laws instituted after Reconstruction.

Contemporary New Orleans reflects all of these influences, social, cultural and culinary. Rick Barton grew up in the Garden District, the very richest, old money neighborhood in the city. His family was serviced by black maids and cooks and Creole landscapers and gardeners, as was the fashion of over a century. When young Rick turned 21, he came into a trust fund set up by his grandfather, son of the man who founded the family business and fortune.

Rick was, as they used to say, "free, white and 21". He decided to defy his parents' wishes and buy a townhouse in the French Quarter. He furnished his 120 year old house with the finest antiques from the expensive shops on Royal Street. Rick gave himself a housewarming party. Of course, it was the social event of the year for the younger set. One of the reasons for the success of the party was the catering. Crab Puffs, Boudin en Croute, Choupic Caviar and Oyters en Brochette were served to discerning palates and literally applauded. Rick called his temporary staff, all Creoles, to the Ballroom to accept their accolades.

As the Creole caterers lined up in their white uniforms, still sharp even after a night in the kitchen, Rick's sexuality, always undefined, suddenly found a focus in the body of the youngest of the caterers, a stunning Creole boy of perhaps 18 or 19. His beauty simply slapped Rick in the face and the white boy was instantly in love with the Creole boy. This was near the end of the party and Rick stumbled through good-byes and made a bee-line for the kitchen, hoping to meet the young Creole who had stolen his heart. Only the owner of the catering company, waiting for his check, was there, the kitchen immaculate.

"Tell me, Mr. Haydel, who was that young man, the one who stood to your left in the Ballroom?" "Oh, that was my nephew, Raoul. He's a Haydel, too. Fine young man. He did a great job tonight. The Crab Puffs were his." "Mmm, they were delicious," Rick stalled, hoping to find out how to see Raoul again. His stall was rewarded. As the caterer put the generous check in his wallet, he pulled out a business card and said, "You know, Raoul has his own little catering company. Look, here's his card." It was a simple card with a phone number and an address in Treme', the historical Creole neighborhood. 
"May I keep this?" "Sure, Mr. Barton. You should give the boy a try." Wouldn't I love to, Rick thought.

The next day, Rick called Raoul Haydel and arranged for him to cater a small lunch on Saturday. It was Raoul's first job on his own in a while and he eagerly accepted the job. Besides, Raoul had noticed Rick, not knowing the impact he had made on the rich white boy. Lunch was a complete success, of course, Shrimp Bisque, Crab Cakes and a spinch and watercress salad. After the guests had gone and before he paid the object of his desire, Rick said, "Raoul, please stay and have a drink with me." "Sure, Mr. Barton, but let me make us Sazeracs." "Call me Rick," he said in a suggestive manner, "and you can do anything you want." Raoul picked up on Rick's tone and took off his server's jacket, revealing a tight white tee shirt that showed his perfect, slim torso. 

Rick's eyes didn't leave Raoul. They sat across from each other as they sipped the perfect, authentic Sazerac. They didn't talk much as they drank several more of the mostly rye whiskey concoctions. Rick moved to a divan and asked Raoul to join him. When Rick casually slid a hand on Raoul's leg, Raoul said, "Rick may I ask you a forward question?" "Absolutely anything, Raoul." "OK. Rick, are you trying to seduce me?" Rick nearly choked and gaspd as Raoul continued, "Because you don't have to. I like you, Rick, and I think you'd like to have sex with me. Let's do it!" Rick could barely breathe. Raoul took Rick by the hand and led him to his own bedroom. Rick found himself as his cock got hard. Niether were virgins and they hit the bed kissing, sucking and rubbing hard dicks.

Rick didn't know if he was a top or a bottom but the matter was settled when Raoul slipped his 8 inch cock into Rick's ass. Rick was ecstatic, never wanted it to stop. Raoul had never felt such a tight ass, never wanted it to stop. But as Raoul released his load inside Rick, Rick splattered his own cum all over his chest and face. Raoul licked Rick's face clean and collapsed on Rick's chest, glued by drying cum. Rick spoke first,"Raoul, you'll think me crazy, but I know I love you. I want you every day," Raoul kissed Rick softly and said, "You're not crazy, Rick. I love you , too." Rick sat up and spoke excitedly, "Then move in with me! I know you have a place in Treme'. I'll buy it and you can have some money and..." Raoul put a fingeron Rick's lips. "Rick, in the first place, I don't own anything. I live with my Auntie. I could move in here tomorrow. But you're fogetting something. To your family, friends and everybody else, you'd be living with a black man. I know it's the 21st century and I'm Creole, but, believe me, lover, you'd catch a Hell of a lot of flack."

Rick reponded to the most important thing he had heard, "You called me lover." Raoul smiled, "Well, I'd like to be. I'd like to be your Creole lover and fuck you every day." "Then it's settled. I don't care about all the rest. I care about you. Spend the night and we'll get your things tomorrow." 'Tomorrow' began several years of bliss for the boys. The interracial issue was there, but for the boys, easily ignored. At first, Rick's family was shocked, but more at Rick's open homosexuality than Raoul's parentage. Rick's friends loved the idea and always tried for invitations to dinner. Within circles, Raoul's cooking was becoming legendary.

No, the real problem the boys had was an unexpected one, money. Rick was rich, Raoul had to work hard for a living. Which was not how Rick saw it. He wanted to share his fortune with Raoul and the Creole boy wanted none of it. "Why not take some money, Baby?" Rick pleaded. Raoul explained calmly, "Because I won't be a kept boy. Because I have a talent in the kitchen that's going to pay off some day." Rick couldn't argue with that second reason. His Creole lover was a master chef. His food was ambrosial. And Rick loved Raoul's cock up his ass. So, end of discussion.

But Raoul's 'some day' came sooner than later. Seveal members of a venerable New Orleans restauant family had eaten Raoul's food and, looking to expand, offered Raoul half interest in a new restaurant. Raoul would be Proprietor and Chef. He jumped at it and, long story short, "Raoul's" was an instant sensation. Not only was the dining room filled at every seating, the media pounced on the story. "21 year old Creole cooking master," was the gist of the coverage. Local news show appearances, a live "Today Show" remote segment. And the cherry on Raoul's cake was the James Beard award for best new restaurant.

Suddenly, it wasn't Rick's house, it was Raoul's house. Rick didn't give a party, Raoul gave a party. But worst of all for Rick was he didn't get to have his lover by his side anymore. He became morose and would be asleep when Raoul got home. He spent more and more time at his beach house in Destin. Raoul sensed Rick's unhappiness and hated that the one thing he was good at (other than fucking his lover)was the thing that was keeping them apart.

But the restauant business is mercurial and Raoul wanted out. He put out feelers and was surprised when the best offer he got, for millions, was from the very family that had put him in business in the first place. They would own the name and the recipes. He would make occasional appearances and not Chef anywhere else in New Orleans. Raoul thought, Fine, hand me the check. Rick was in Destin when all of this was going on but left a message saying when he would be back. Raoul prepared all of Rick's favorites, chilled some champaign an draped his naked body on the divan where Rick first touched him. Rick walked in and without a word, Raoul fucked Rick on the divan. Later, Raoul explained the businees deal that made him millionaire, ending with,"I just want to be your Creole lover."