“I thought we’d just ride,” Ethel said. “How about driving out Gentilly Road? And maybe cut up to the lake and find a place to park.”
“At your command.” Frank’s voice was strong and gently whimsical. Barbara relaxed against the cushion as he put the heavy car in gear and drove northward.
It was a sport touring car, with the top down, giving it a rakish air. Barbara stole furtive glances at Frank as he drove swiftly through the city. Each time a street light flashed by she had an opportunity to study his face for a moment.
She liked what she saw in these brief glimpses. It was a strong face, quiet, with a definite air of self-possession. He seemed younger than she had expected. She thought he could not be more than thirty. Clean-shaven. His profile was nice.
All she could see was his profile. He paid no heed to her at all. She was glad of that. For she wanted to adjust her thoughts before facing the necessity of making conversation.
Joe and Ethel talked and giggled incessantly in the rear seat. Barbara turned to ask Ethel a question once, but she turned back quickly with the words unspoken, a deep flush staining her cheeks. She had been unable to distinguish which was Ethel in the dark huddle.
She did not know her action had been observed until she heard a deep chuckle from the silent figure by her side.
“Don’t bother them,” Frank advised. “They’ve forgotten there’s anyone else in the world.”
“Oh.” Barbara looked at him quickly. He did not turn his head. “I … was just going to ask her a question,” she said lamely.
“You have your answer.” He jerked his head backward. “The answer to the eternal question.”
He drove onward without speaking further. They had left the crowded city behind them. The car roared blindly through the night, and Frank was an impersonal god who jested with destiny.
They had left the highway and turned left into a less-traveled way. A feeling of hopeful curiosity surged over Barbara. Was this why she had come to Mardi Gras?
The glimmer of water was ahead, dancing gayly in the revealing gleam of the headlights. The roar of the motor died, and Frank skillfully maneuvered the car to a halt beneath a spreading tree hung with gray moss. Lake Pontchartrain was on their right. Barbara leaned out toward the water eagerly, drawing in great breaths of the invigorating breeze.
A strong hand closed over hers. She did not turn her head. Frank’s voice was low: “I have an idea you’re very beautiful.”
Barbara’s heart was too full of the beauty of the night to make immediate reply. There was the sound of moving bodies behind them, and Ethel’s voice was queerly muffled:
“Where are we?”
“At the end of the line,” Frank said concisely. “All out that’re getting out.”
There was further unscrambling of limbs behind them. Whispered questions and answers. Barbara stared across the lake as she heard the back door open. Then Ethel touched her arm lightly.
“We’re going for a little walk,” she said. “Want to come along?”
“Thanks. I think I’ll just sit in the car … if … Frank doesn’t mind.” She smiled quickly at him … and was surprised to find his face so close to hers.
“Why walk?” he chuckled. Barbara turned her head to watch the couple as they moved down the shore together. Joe carried a folded robe over his arm … and they were very close together.
“They go in search of beauty.” Frank’s voice seemed to strike through her body. “And they will find it together. They have learned the secret.”
Barbara turned to him with parted lips. “Is that … the only way to find beauty?” she asked chokingly.
“For them … yes.” Frank’s eyes were startlingly black. Little points of light gleamed in their depths, reflected from the dancing lights upon the water.
“And … for us?” She was surprised when the words escaped her lips. They sounded cheaply flirtatious.
But Frank understood. “For us?” he mused. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “That is the surest receipt,” he admitted.
His arm slipped along the back of the seat and rested on Barbara’s shoulders comfortingly. “We shall see,” he murmured softly.
His hand reached up to touch her cheek, and she let herself be drawn to him. She closed her eyes, shutting out the night, his strangeness; shutting out from her mind all doubt.
Her lips were parted as he leaned down to kiss them. They remained parted, quiescently, unresponsive as he searched for an answer.
He drew his lips away slowly. “Perhaps not.” His voice was emotionless.
Barbara shuddered and let her head rest on his shoulder. It was a very comfortable shoulder, she reflected. She seemed to stand off and study this new Barbara who kissed strange men and found comfort on a man’s shoulder.
What had his kiss meant? He was the only man who had ever kissed her. Except Robert. And Robert’s kisses didn’t count. They were unlike this kiss. Yet she remained unmoved. She wanted to be moved. She wanted to know passion. And she had found peace instead.
She struggled to sit upright. His arm lay loosely on her shoulder, and his face was immobile.
“What’s it all about?” Barbara asked desperately.
“Ah.” Frank’s lips smiled. “All?” he questioned.
“You know about life,” Barbara said tensely. “I don’t know anything. Teach me … tell me.”
“Life?” Now Frank’s face and voice smiled. He shook his head. “I know nothing about life,” he protested.
“But Ethel said that you knew everything.”
“I know everything that Ethel needs to know. All she can understand,” he said simply.
“You mean … it’s not enough for me?” she asked sharply.
“I’m … afraid not.” His voice was moody and self-contained.
“Why did you kiss me?”
“Because I thought you wanted me to.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Because I thought you wanted me to.”
“Do you always … do what girls want you to do?” Barbara asked breathlessly.
“That’s always my intention,” he told her evenly. “So long as the girl knows what she wants.”
“And if I don’t know what I want?” Barbara’s voice frightened her. It was almost shrill.
“Then … I might help you find out,” Frank admitted. “Upon invitation.”
“What has Ethel told you about me?” Barbara demanded.
“Almost nothing. Only that you were young and pretty, and were coming to see what makes a Mardi Gras tick … and wanted to have a good time in the bargain.”
“That’s all she told you?” Barbara persisted.
“That’s all. Except that she didn’t say how very young you were … nor how very beautiful.”
“Oh.” Barbara hesitated, searching for words. She was conscious of a mounting excitement. His calm infuriated her. She wanted to break through it … find the man which lay behind the cool exterior.
“I’m twenty-two,” she said slowly.
“Which is gloriously young.” His voice was grave.
“How old are you?” she flashed.
“It doesn’t matter.” He moved restlessly. “It happens that I’m thirty-five,” he said slowly.
“Suppose I told you that I’ve never been anywhere … never done anything? That I’ve lived like a half-dead thing all my life? That my mind and my body and my soul are virgin? What would you think?”
“I would never cease to envy some man the joy of awakening you,” he replied quietly.
“Suppose I told you that I broke my engagement with a boy I’ve thought I loved since childhood … just to come to Mardi Gras and learn to live?” she asked passionately. “What then?”
“Does the boy love you?”
“He thinks he does. He … he doesn’t know any more about love than I do.” Barbara’s voice was husky.
Frank did not answer her for a long time. He stared over her head unseeingly. He was more
profoundly moved than he cared to admit.
“How do I come in?” he questioned slowly.
“You … you’re a part of Mardi Gras,” Barbara told him vibrantly. “Don’t you see? I have these two days that I’ve snatched from my life. I’ve given up everything I thought was solid and worth while for the sake of these two days. I don’t want to think I’ve traded my birthright for a mess of pottage. I’ve made a terrible mistake if Mardi Gras doesn’t give me back more than I’ve lost.”
“I see what you mean,” he admitted uncomfortably. “But how do we start?”
“Don’t you know?” Barbara stared at him wide-eyed.
“I admit that I don’t,” he said helplessly. “Shall I make love to you?”
“Not unless you want to,” she flashed.
“There you are,” he groaned. “You see the impasse. I don’t want to if you don’t want me to. It’s all mixed up.”
“Not half as mixed up as I am,” Barbara sighed.
She relaxed against him. He leaned down to let his lips rest upon her hair. “I could teach you passion,” he whispered.
“Would that help?” She moved restlessly against his body.
“Passion is a beginning … a motive,” he said slowly. “From that you can go on to love … to life. You can grasp neither fully until you know passion.”
“I don’t think that I could feel passion unless I were in love,” Barbara protested.
“That’s a great mistake. Perhaps the most common mistake of humankind. That’s one of the first lessons you should learn … that the two must never be mixed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will understand,” he told her grimly. “Love involves mental emotion. It warps human relationships and twists life into a Gordian knot that can only be cut through with a great deal of suffering.”
“And passion?” she asked.
“Passion is wholly physical. It doesn’t rise to the heights love sometimes achieves; neither does it carry one down to the nether side of hell as love so often does.”
“And … you can teach me passion?” Barbara’s voice was strained.
“It’s not a question of teaching. It’s simply a matter of awakening certain cells in your body. A simple and pleasant task.”
“Are you sure … I have those cells within me?” she asked brokenly. “When you kissed me just now … wasn’t that supposed to awaken passion?”
“Superficially,” he told her quietly. “Receiving adequate response, a kiss can be a very potent stimulus to passion.”
“But I felt no response,” she protested.
“You’re repressed,” Frank told her firmly. “You don’t react normally.”
“That’s what I meant,” she said sadly. “That’s why I wonder if … if I’m capable of response.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” Frank said quietly.
His left hand reached forward to fumble at her breast. She wore a tight brassiere, and his fingers could find two shapely mounds. He caressed them gently.
“This is an awkward time and place,” he said slowly. “If you’re really bent on being initiated into the mystery of sex … I’ll be very glad to make an appointment.”
His lips were very close to her neck, and Barbara was startled to feel his hot breath quicken. The fingers of his hand were clutching, and his body tensed.
A strange emotion answered from her own body. Her pulse quickened, and little fingers of flame seemed to drag downward from her breasts. She felt an uncomfortable desire to thrust herself out on the seat. Her clothes constricted her. She remembered how her instinct had told her to press Robert’s lips down to her breast.
Now she toyed with the wish that Frank might follow the same course. She was frightened by the emotion this desire evoked.
She drew away from him nervously and spoke in a husky tone:
“I … I want to make the appointment too.”
His arm tightened about her crushingly. She let her body go limp in his arms. He was kissing her brow, her eyes … her lips! Her hand slipped about the back of his head and the fingers twined themselves in his hair.
Her lips were parted and she pulled at his head fiercely, crushing his face upon her own, her tongue flickering out to meet his.
Then the spell was broken.
Laughing voices greeted them from near at hand. Ethel and Joe had returned from their amorous interlude.
Barbara slipped down into the seat and stared out across the water. Her breath came pantingly and it seemed that her heart must leap from her body. There was a strange buzzing in her ears which reduced the words of the others to a vague murmur.
She wanted, only, to be alone for an opportunity to examine this surging force which had been unloosed within her body.
Frank drove the car homeward in silence.
He helped her alight when they reached the Brinkley home, and Barbara was surprised to find that her legs would sustain her weight. He bent to kiss her, but she slipped away from him.
“Please,” she murmured, “not yet.”
Joe and Ethel were interlocked in a straining embrace which magnificently disregarded the other couple.
Barbara turned away and waited impatiently for Ethel to join her. She wanted the security of her bedroom … the only place of safety in a chaotic world.
Chapter Five
Barbara awoke with a start the following morning; to find the sun shining full in her face through an open window. She stared about the strange room blankly for a moment. Then she stretched and smiled lazily as she recalled all that had happened.
The door of her room opened and Ethel slipped in quietly. She wore white silk pajamas and a flowered Chinese robe. She smiled broadly when she saw Barbara was awake.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. She slithered across the room and stood by the side of the bed. “Move over,” she commanded. “I want to talk to you.”
Barbara flushed as she moved over and threw the cover back for Ethel to get in bed with her. She was conscious of the comparison between her worn voile nightie and the richness of Ethel’s pajamas.
But Ethel didn’t seem to notice. “Oh! This certainly is a hot place that you vacated,” she exclaimed as she snuggled down beside her. “You must be burning up.”
“Perhaps I am,” Barbara answered with” a slow smile.
“What was the matter with Frank? Couldn’t he do anything about it?”
“I think he’s the cause of it,” Barbara murmured.
“Well, tell me about it,” Ethel insisted. “You wouldn’t say a word last night. Acted as if you were in a trance or something. Tell me what happened? Didn’t you like Frank?”
“I liked him very much,” Barbara assured her. “Too much for my peace of mind.”
“He is a swell fellow. But I can’t see him sending you off to bed in such a state. He must be losing his grip.”
“Ethel!” Barbara looked at her with a blush.
“Gee, you look sweet when you blush,” Ethel murmured. She snuggled down farther in the covers, her cheek resting against Barbara’s bare arm. “I won’t watch you blush,” she said. “Go on and spill the dirt.”
“I can’t,” Barbara told her helplessly. “I don’t know what happened. When I look back on it I think it must have been two other people.”
“Let’s get this straight.” Ethel peeped at her with one eye. “First: You’re still a virgin?”
“Of course!” Barbara was shocked.
“You needn’t be so smug about it. It’s your hard luck,” Ethel assured her.
“What do you mean?” Barbara looked at her aghast.
“Oh, get wise.” Ethel’s voice was muffled. “You mean to say … he didn’t do this?” Ethel’s voice trailed off as her hand reached up to Barbara’s firm breast beneath the gown.
“No,” Barbara gasped. “He didn’t do that.”
“The nut. He doesn’t know what he missed.” Ethel’s fingers pressed the neck of the nightie down until th
e breast emerged from the covering. Barbara clenched her hands and tried to lie quietly.
Then Ethel withdrew her hand and patted Barbara’s arm with trembling fingers.
“Funny,” she muttered. “I’ve always wondered what there was to it. And I want to try everything before I die.”
Barbara tried to speak, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. She smiled pitiably as Ethel sat up to look down into her eyes.
“You poor kid,” Ethel murmured commiseratingly. “You certainly need a new slant on life. But I’m not going to start any funny business,” she went on determinedly. “It wouldn’t be right with you in the shape you’re in. Might distort your entire life.”
Barbara forced a smile to her lips. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” she forced herself to say. “But … is this Mardi Gras?”
“You’re on,” Ethel cried. “Let’s get out and see people and do things. We need to get a running start to-day so we can keep going to-morrow. Come on!” She threw the covers off the bed and leaped out. “I’ve got a costume for you,” she called over her shoulder as she ran from the room. “I’ll bring it in.”
She returned almost immediately, bearing a heavy dress of soft gray. “See?” She held it up for Barbara’s inspection. It had a very full, flounced skirt, and a tight bodice.
“It’s a Quaker costume,” she explained. “What a demure little Quaker maid you’ll make. I’ve got a bonnet and everything. Try it on.”
Barbara stood up and looked about for her underthings.
“No, no,” Ethel protested. “You mustn’t wear anything under it. That’d spoil everything. You want to feel devilish and look like a saint. That’s the whole idea.”
“It’s lovely,” Barbara said. She dropped the nightie to the floor and lifted up her arms to let Ethel slip the dress over her head.
“With a body like that it’s a shame ever to wear clothes,” Ethel told her. She smoothed the gown down and exclaimed over the perfect fit. “I wore it last year,” she said, “and I had mother take it up a little for you.”
“But … what are you going to wear?” Barbara cried. She studied her image in the mirror, and nodded in approval.
Mardi Gras Madness Page 4
