French Quarter

by Lacey Alexander

  “That’s not important,” she said calmly. “What matters is that I know where you’ve been.”

  His pale brown eyebrows knit. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you last night, Todd.” She kept her voice void of emotion, and it wasn’t difficult—she suddenly felt so indifferent toward him. She couldn’t believe she’d ever agreed to marry someone who clearly held her in such little regard. “I saw you at Club Venus.”

  His mouth dropped open. He ran a hand back through his hair, took a moment to think. “Okay, yes, I was at Club Venus last night. A little happy hour with some guys from work—no big deal. We finished the project we were working on, so decided to reward ourselves. I was going to tell you when I got home, but you weren’t there.”

  Liz released a tired sigh. What a liar. She’d have to be more direct. “Okay, how about this? I saw you pay a woman to dance naked in your lap. And I know that two nights before—and probably every night for the last two months—you indulged heavily in that particular pastime. I know because I thought you were having an affair, so I hired someone to follow you.”

  Now his eyes were as round as plates, gaping at her blankly. She decided to take the opportunity to press onward.

  “I’m breaking off the engagement, Todd.” She’d taken off her ring before last night, but she’d worn it to work today specifically so she could return it to him. Slipping it off her left hand, she laid it in the center of the table.

  “Let me get this straight,” he finally said, sounding a bit manic. “You’re breaking off our engagement because I’ve gone to a strip club a few times to unwind after work?” He said it like she was crazy and unreasonable, as if he hadn’t lied to her, as if it had indeed only been a few times. And as if getting lap dance after lap dance without having mentioned it was a perfectly acceptable way to run an engagement.

  “Well, actually, there’s more to it than that,” she said. “For one thing, I’ve realized I don’t love you, and for another, I’ve met someone else. But neither of those things probably would have happened if you hadn’t started lying about working late so that naked women could wiggle around in your lap, so I guess that going to a strip club to ‘unwind’ did indeed lead to this.”

  Todd looked absolutely livid. “You’re seeing another man? Cheating on me?”

  She gasped her disbelief. “Not before I found out what you were up to, so don’t act as if you’ve been wronged.”

  “Who the hell is it? I’ll kill him.”

  She rolled her eyes. Compared to Jack, Todd was scrawny. “That doesn’t matter,” she said, getting back her composure. “The important thing is that our engagement is over.” She looked at the ring she’d placed between them. “You’d better put that in your pocket before it gets lost.”

  Todd began shaking his head. “No, I won’t accept that ring, Elizabeth.” She cringed—she’d always hated that Todd insisted on calling her that, and she suddenly hated it even more now; it sounded so Puritan. “Because we’re not breaking up.”

  Another sigh of exhaustion escaped her. “We just did.”

  “No, you can’t break up with me, I won’t let you. We’re going to have the perfect life together and I still intend to have it. We’ll be fine, you’ll see. You’ll just have to be patient with me.”

  She had no idea what he was blathering on about. She shook her head. “What? Patient with you?”

  He nodded. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m having trouble not wanting other women. But you’ll just have to be patient while I get those feelings out of my system. That’s why I’ve been going to Club Venus, darling, for you. So that I can go into our marriage with a pure heart and won’t ever have to cheat on you.”

  “Dear God.” She almost laughed. Did he actually think that explanation would make things better?

  Then again, maybe he was so accustomed to the old, complacent Liz that he’d thought he could get away with anything.

  Well, she was tired of arguing with him about whether or not he “accepted” her breaking up with him. She’d hoped they could have a civil discussion about this, maybe work out living arrangements over lunch, but clearly she’d been too optimistic. “Look, Todd, we’re through. Understand?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, we’re not. We’re going to have the perfect life, you and I. You’re supposed to be my perfect wife.”

  “What?” she said, confused by his rambling.

  “The first night I took you home to meet my parents, my dad pulled me aside and said, ‘She’s the one, son, the one who’ll make a perfect wife for you.’ And I realized he was right. You’re going to make a wonderful mother to our children, Elizabeth, and you always handle every situation appropriately, and you listen to what I say and do what I want…” His eyebrows knit tightly again. “Or at least you used to.”

  God, he’d wanted to marry her because she was a doormat. And because his daddy had given her his seal of approval—probably because he recognized what a Stepford Wife she would make, as well. Liz let the tiniest smile leak free, wondering what Todd—or his father—would think if they could have seen her last night. Would they have found it “appropriate” for her to get a lap dance? Would they think it was “appropriate” for her to get fucked on an open balcony for anyone to see while she begged her lover for more?

  “You know what, Todd?” she said with a knowing smile. “If you knew the real me, you’d never want to marry me. So trust me, I’m doing us both a favor.”

  His eyes clouded with bewilderment. “The real you?”

  She simply laughed. “Goodbye, Todd,” she said, and then she got up and walked away, out of the diner, up the street, feeling the stretch of lace against her skin and the blessed sense of freedom to which Jack Wade had opened her.

  * * * * *

  That night she met Jack at Pat O’Brien’s in the Quarter for dinner. They were seated in the courtyard at a pleasantly secluded table behind the fountain. She sipped on a hurricane as they both ate sweet southern-style slices of pecan pie for dessert, and she told him about her encounter with Todd and what she’d figured out about herself.

  “That day when we first met, in your office, I was only pretending to be sexy and wild. I was so embarrassed about the idea of Todd cheating on me that it helped somehow if you found me attractive and wondered why he’d do such a thing.”

  “I’ve got news for you, darlin’,” he replied with a knowing look. “You can’t pretend to be sexy. You either are or you aren’t. And you definitely are.”

  “That’s what I’ve figured out, I guess.” A bit of her old sheepishness tried to sneak in, but she pressed on anyway. “That it wasn’t just an act, that now I truly want to be wild…and I want to take you on the journey with me.” She even went on to admit she’d been wearing Lynda’s clothes in order to look like someone she wasn’t. “But then I discovered that I actually was that woman, the wild, seductive one you met.”

  She hadn’t actually planned to tell him all this; she just heard herself doing it. Somewhere along the way, she’d started feeling he was very easy to talk to. Jack wore a typical sexy grin as she explained that he was just the man to help her find that wanton, sexual side of herself.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he said across the small table. He reached out, giving a soft, casual caress to her hand where it played with the stem of her glass.

  “Sure, anything.” She had nothing to hide with Jack any longer—and the hurricane was going to her head, making her feel all the more happy and open.

  He tilted his head, looking sexy as hell. “What made you want to be with that woman in the club?”

  The question—not to mention his hungry look—made her a little wet in her lacy panties. “I suppose it was watching all those beautiful female bodies. Seeing them through men’s eyes. Your eyes. I never realized just how lovely women were before, so soft, so curvy and lush. Watching them dance out of their clothes, make themselves so sexual, excited me.”

  His eyes
lit with fire and she knew he liked her answer.

  He leaned a little closer. “Wanna know a secret?”

  She flashed a wicked smile, nodding.

  “I’ve always fantasized about havin’ a woman who wanted to be with another woman that way. A woman who was secure enough in her sexuality to do what feels good. A woman who wanted me to watch.” The last word came in a raspy whisper.

  His words melted through her like the warm caramel in her pie and she found herself unable to tear her gaze from his.

  His eyes glazed with desire. “What do you fantasize about, chere? Tell me one of your favorite fantasies.”

  She sighed, thinking. She hated to admit it, but… “Before a few days ago, I’m not sure I really ever had fantasies. Or if I did, they were sweet and romantic and…dreadfully average. Sunsets and tender sex on the beach after wine and cheese, that sort of thing.”

  “And now?” He raised his eyebrows.

  She smiled even as she felt a light blush rise to her cheeks. “Well, this afternoon, at work, someone was talking about Mardi Gras parades. And out of the blue, I found myself fantasizing that you and I were naked on a big Mardi Gras float, wearing nothing but glittery masks and beads.”

  He leaned slightly forward. “Tell me more.”

  She leaned closer to him, as well. “You were sitting on a red velvet throne.”

  He chuckled. “It’s good to be king.”

  “And I was sitting in your lap, riding you, and you were kissing and sucking my nipples through all the beads I wore.”

  She took his silence, together with his intense gaze, as encouragement to go on.

  “I could feel all the people watching us, being turned on by seeing me fuck you, by watching me move on you. And at the same time, it felt safe, I felt anonymous, because they couldn’t see my face behind the mask, and because we were up above them, on the float. I could tell somehow that they were all as excited as I was and that they wanted me to come. And I could feel the beads—I wore them around my neck, around my waist, around my wrists and ankles—all rubbing against my skin and making it as if I was being touched all those places. When I did come, I screamed, over and over again.”

  “Just like last night on my balcony,” he reminded her with a smile.

  “Right,” she said. “And the crowd watching the parade cheered my orgasm.”

  He kept grinning, his chin propped on his fist. “What then?”

  “We got off the throne and went to a special sort of platform, also upholstered in red velvet. I climbed onto it, on my hands and knees, and you fucked me from behind.”

  She thought she saw fresh heat in his eyes when he said, “I’m likin’ the sound of that, chere. Hot.”

  “The crowd liked it, too,” she confessed with a small smile. “They could see you moving in and out of me that way. They began to throw beads up onto the float in praise. And when I looked out at them, they were all beginning to undress and touch themselves, or each other, while they watched you fucking me.” She bit her lip, remembering the fantasy, sinking deeper into it. “And you were fucking me so hard, so good. It made me crazy. I was screaming with each stroke.”

  “Go on.” He wasn’t smiling anymore, just looking aroused.

  “Well, by the time you came, everyone was coming. People in the crowd were moaning along with us. And you were reaching around underneath me, rubbing me…you know, there.”

  “There,” he repeated, gently teasing her. Somehow, those intimate words came easier in her mind than from her throat, she discovered.

  She grinned in reply. “Yes, there. And your hand, plus your orgasm, plus watching all the spectators come, made me come, too, really long and hard and satisfying, like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

  The fire in his eyes simmered to a smoldering heat, something quiet but ever so scorching. “Merde,” he breathed.

  She flashed a vixen’s smile. “So, what’s your biggest fantasy?”

  He grinned. “I already told you. Meetin’ a hot, sexy petite fille like you.”

  She laughed. “You’ve totally corrupted me.”

  His eyes narrowed playfully. “You love it.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I do.”

  He shook his head lightly and took a sip of his drink. “Darlin’, no one would ever guess that under that prim, pretty business suit—”

  “There’s a garter belt and lace?”

  He lifted his eyebrows in question, and in reply, she crossed her legs to one side, and slowly eased her skirt up to reveal the top of one stocking.

  “You been wearin’ those all day?”

  She nodded.

  He leaned closer, clearly ready for more sexy banter. “Did they make you feel hot and sexy while you worked?”

  She nodded again.

  “Good.” Then he lowered his chin lightly. “I can’t wait to see everything under that skirt. And I’m so damn glad I’m the man who gets to go on this excitin’ little trip with you.”

  She considered her new sexual journey over a long sip of her drink. “You know, I suppose there were hints of the sexual being inside me all along—I just didn’t recognize them. I mean, I wasn’t a total stick in the mud—I liked sex before this. I’d just never…had the kind of mind-numbing sex I had with you last night. I’d never…done it someplace where people might see. I’d never…talked dirty before.”

  He grinned. “Why don’t you talk dirty to me some more right now? Why don’t you quit callin’ your pretty little pussy ‘there’ and call it exactly what it is for me.”

  “And rush things?” she asked with a playful smile. “No, baby, I don’t think so. I think, just like last night, I want to stretch things out and make them last. I’ll talk dirty—dirtier than I did last night—when you make me want to.”

  Damn, Jack thought when Liz rose from her chair and sashayed away to the bathroom. He watched the sexy sway of her ass and murmured under his breath, “What a woman.” He still couldn’t quite believe she was real. But he was sure as hell glad he’d done whatever he’d done to help unleash the sexual animal inside her.

  Now, it was all he could do to sit here and finish his dessert. At the moment, he had no interest in food; all of his interest lay in getting her out of that suit so he could see the sexy lingerie she’d worn for him. He wanted to kiss those pretty breasts he’d gotten only a short taste of last night. He wanted to lick her lovely little pussy dry.

  After that, he wanted to fall asleep in her arms, just like he had last night. In a strange way, that had been as good as the rest of what they’d shared—the perfect ending to a perfectly wild evening.

  Fall asleep in her arms? Had he really just allowed himself to want that? He’d gone from pussy-licking to sleeping? Damn, he must be losing it. Or hell, maybe he was getting old—he wasn’t a young kid anymore, and good, hard fucking wore a guy out. So maybe it was natural for falling asleep with a woman to become part of sex now.

  Even so, he shook his head. That explanation sounded ridiculous. Was ridiculous.

  But he wasn’t going to let himself worry over something so minor. So he liked falling asleep with her. So he’d liked seeing her sleepy eyes first thing this morning. Big fucking deal. It meant nothing. This was just good, hot fun, nothing more.

  By the time she returned from the bathroom, their check had arrived, so he asked her the question burning in his mind. “What now, chere?”

  She looked primed and ready for action when she gave her head a provocative little tilt. “Why don’t we check out the action on Bourbon Street?”

  Jack couldn’t wait to see what surprises the night held.

  Chapter 4

  They wandered through the growing crowds just as the evening began to come alive. Every night on Bourbon was a party—neon lights pointed the way into dance clubs and karaoke bars and sex shows and shops that sold colored beads and souvenirs. Every type of music, from rock to blues to Zydeco, could be heard spilling from open doorways. Daiquiri bars offered drinks
to passersby who watched mimes and clowns on stilts meander the thoroughfare, which was closed off, admitting only pedestrian traffic.

  Just as Liz had never been to this part of town in the daytime until her visit with Lynda, she’d certainly never been here after dark before meeting with Jack the previous night. It was as if a whole new world had opened to her. Jack held her hand as they wove through groups of people, some walking, some just standing around talking and drinking hurricanes or daiquiris or tall glasses of beer.

  Although every sight and sound was entrancing, the places that drew Liz’s attention the most were the sex clubs. At the door of one establishment, a pretty girl in nothing but a pair of filmy panties and matching bra stood handing out coupons for discounted drinks inside. At another, the windows were shaded but offered strategically placed silhouettes of shapely girls, their curves smooth and bare—one dancing erotically, another gliding back and forth on a large swing. After her unexpected experiences last night, not to mention how excited Jack had seemed by her daring, the forbidden allure of the clubs had Liz’s pussy pulsing at a maddening rate.

  Just then, her gaze landed on an adult store. Like Bourbon Street’s other illicit pleasures, Liz had never had occasion to venture into such a place. “Have you ever been in one of those stores?” she asked Jack, slowing their pace to peek inside. She caught sight of vibrators in packages hanging on the walls and a mannequin wearing bits of black leather.

  When he saw where she pointed, he gave a short laugh and she knew her naïveté was showing. “Uh, yeah, darlin’,” he said as if it were a given.

  She smiled at his amusement. “Well, I haven’t and I want to go in.”

  “Let me lead the way,” he said, and they entered the wide open doors.

  Liz’s eyes were drawn to boxes of triple X-rated DVDs and videos—on the box covers, naked women kissed each other or wore leather and wielded whips and chains; on one a cheerleader bent over revealing her bare, shaved mound. Other videos appeared to be for gay men—one pictured two nude, handsome, well-endowed men in a light embrace, their penises touching.