“Do you like it?” Frankie asked eagerly. “Let me show you the rest of it.” Her eyes studied Barbara calculatingly as she arose to pour her a third glass of wine.
“I … I don’t think I should drink any more,” Barbara protested weakly. She stood up and swayed, holding tightly to the back of the chair. “I … I feel sort of funny now,” she confessed.
“Go ahead and drink it.” Frankie’s firm arm was comfortingly about her waist as she proffered the drink.
“Sure. Go ahead.” Ethel’s laughing voice came from the couch. “Suppose you do get a little tight? What’s the harm? Frankie and Johnny are perfect ladies.” She giggled and Johnny joined in with a deeper note of mirth.
“All right,” Barbara said recklessly. She drank the third glass of wine and dropped the empty goblet to the floor. “I … I want to drink of life … like that,” she said fiercely. “Drain its sweetness and fling the husk away!” Her voice rose shakily. It sounded like a very good speech.
“Atagirl,” Ethel applauded. “Don’t let ’em get you down, Babs.” She laughed uproariously at her own wit.
Frankie smiled at Barbara with genuine warmth. “Let me show you the rest of our apartment,” she urged. Her arm tightened tentatively about Barbara’s waist.
“All right. But don’t hold me so tight,” Barbara said querulously. “I’m all right. I can stan’ up.” She tugged at Frankie’s arm and pulled it from her waist.
Frankie smiled and caught her elbow as she staggered and almost fell. “Come on,” she said huskily, leading her from the room.
“This is the bedroom,” she said slowly. Barbara gazed wonderingly as the room seemed to swing about in circles. Her wavering gaze fell upon a huge bed and remained fixed there. She moved toward it uncertainly.
“Wanta lie down,” she muttered.
“Sure. Just relax and rest a little.” Frankie’s voice was low and persuasive. She helped Barbara reach the bed. “Just lie down,” she said tenderly. “You can stay here as long as you want to.”
Barbara relaxed gratefully on the bed. The wine seemed to have left her body in a state of suspended animation. Her limbs seemed disjointed … not a part of her at all. She closed her eyes as Frankie leaned over her.
“You sweet kid. You’re so darned cute in that costume I don’t see how I can keep my hands off you.” Frankie’s voice was hoarse. She leaned down to let her lips caress the base of Barbara’s neck.
Barbara moved restlessly and pushed Frankie’s face away. She wondered, feebly, what sort of game this was. She was vaguely irritated by Frankie’s sentimentality.
“Go ’way,” she muttered. “I don’t know you very well.”
“Don’t push me away, honey. You’ll break my heart,” Frankie breathed passionately.
Barbara cocked one eye open at her to see if she could discover what she meant, but it was too much effort. The lash insisted on dropping back to cut off her view.
“You must be awfully hot in this costume,” Frankie said softly. “Don’t you just want me to take it off so you can be comfortable?” Her fingers moved caressingly on Barbara’s body.
“No. Le’ me ’lone,” Barbara muttered crossly.
“At least I’ll lift up the skirt so it’ll be cooler.” Frankie’s breath was coming faster. Her hands slid downward on Barbara’s limbs and drew the skirt up.
It was cooler. Frankie was very considerate, Barbara thought vaguely. A very kind hostess.
“What yuh rubbin’ my knee for?” she asked thickly. “Noshing matter with my knee.”
“It’s a sweet knee.” Frankie’s voice was muffled and seemed to come from far away. “It’s got the cutest little dimple … just darling.”
Barbara was uneasily conscious that Frankie was acting very strangely. Her fingertips played lightly along her bared limb, and there was a moist warmth on her knee that felt suspiciously like a soft kiss.
She lay quietly and sought to analyze these matters. But it was all too much trouble. A great lassitude gripped her. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. Probably it was all a part of the Mardi Gras madness. She had never before met a hostess who took such an intimate interest in her body before … but … perhaps that was the conventional thing in New Orleans.
The world faded to blackness under Frankie’s soothing touch.
She awoke slowly, very slowly. For minutes she grappled with the dividing line between consciousness and oblivion. She dreamed, and the remnants of her dream clung to her in awaking.
She had dreamed of Robert, of passion. Of a new Robert who felt the call of desire as she had felt it. A Robert who came to her unashamed to caress her body with tender fingers and soft lips.
The dream persisted as she drifted back to knowingness. Persisted and became reality.
She opened her eyes wildly as her soul burst into splendid flame. She cried aloud as the dream vanished and she stared uncomprehendingly at Frankie.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, kicking at her furiously. Frankie threw her arms about the awakened girl and sought to embrace her again.
“You must be crazy!” Barbara cried. She tore away from her and ran into the other room. Ethel jumped up from the couch as Barbara hurried to the outer door.
“What on earth’s the matter?” she asked as she caught her on the stairs and halted her mad flight.
“That girl!” Barbara gasped. “She … she must have been drunk!”
“Oh my God in heaven!” Ethel threw back her head and laughed gleefully. “What’d she try to do?” she asked in the midst of her merriment.
“Something I don’t want to talk about,” Barbara responded indignantly.
“Why didn’t you slap her on the wrist?” Ethel asked merrily.
“Well, it’s nothing to joke about,” Barbara said doggedly. “You don’t know how she acted or you wouldn’t laugh.”
“Come on, you innocent dumbbell,” Ethel chuckled. “We’re late for our engagement with Frank.”
Barbara set her lips stubbornly as Ethel continued to laugh. She could tell her what sort of girls they were, she thought darkly, and then she’d bet Ethel wouldn’t laugh. But she kept silence because she didn’t know how to relate her experience.
Chapter Seven
Frank and Joe were waiting impatiently for them in front of the St. Charles Hotel. There were two other couples with them, and Frank mumbled their names to Barbara as she shook hands with them all.
One of the girls was a tiny slip of a thing, coming only to Barbara’s shoulder, with a defiantly snub nose and delightfully blue eyes. It seemed that her name was Trixie, and it was evident that she was very much in love with a tall man, slender almost to the point of emaciation, with deep-set, glittering eyes and a bony, hooked nose. Barbara laughed aloud when Frank introduced him under the name of Tiny.
He wore a devil’s costume, and he frowned portentously at Barbara as she laughed. “They call me Tiny,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ve always had an idea they do it to kid me. What do you think?”
“I think that you and Trixie should have a private telephone line arranged to talk over,” Barbara laughed. “Seems to me she’d wear her voice out trying to communicate with you over that vast distance.”
“That’s an idea,” he told her gravely. “But suppose someone should tap the wire?”
Frank drew her aside just then to introduce her to the other couple. Jenny and Carl Lind. Barbara noted there was no wedding ring on Jenny’s plump hand, but she determined quickly that she mustn’t notice such things as missing wedding rings.
Jenny and Carl were older than the others. Barbara thought Jenny was thirty, and Carl seemed much older. His gray hair was thin at the temples, and the skin on his brow was tight and yellowed. But his cheeks were ruddy, and his full lips had an unnatural flush. His hand was moistly warm as he squeezed Barbara’s fingers an unnecessarily long time, and his protuberant eyes flickered hopefully as they traveled boldly down the length of her body.
Barbara di
sliked Carl at once, and she was glad when he released her hand to let her speak to Jenny.
“I’m awfully glad to meet you.” Jenny’s voice was flowing and warm. She sounded sincere. “Frank’s been raving about you for the past hour,” she went on in a lowered voice. “He’s said so much that I think he’s put ideas in Carl’s head.”
Barbara laughed nervously. Jenny was full-breasted and buxom. “Suppose I trust you to take care of any ideas Carl gets?” Barbara suggested in a voice so low that only Jenny heard her.
A long glance of understanding passed between them. Barbara knew she had found a friend. Jenny’s look told her that Carl was easily taken in by a pretty face and an alluring figure, and it asked Barbara to keep him at arm’s length. A compact was created between them with that single glance.
Jenny smiled impulsively and patted her shoulder. “Okay,” she said lightly. “I’ll do my part if you’ll do yours. But …” She hesitated and glanced about to see that none overheard. “… don’t trust Carl in a dark corner … especially after he’s had a couple of highballs.”
“I’ll positively shun all dark corners,” Barbara told her laughingly.
There was no opportunity for further conversation just then. They were surrounded by the others as they moved toward two cars at the curb. It seemed that they were all going to Frank’s house where they would be joined by others during the course of the evening.
Barbara found herself in the front seat of Frank’s car, with Trixie and Tiny in the back seat. The other two couples followed in Carl Lind’s automobile. She leaned back against the seat and smiled quickly at Frank as he drove away into the stream of traffic.
“You look tired,” he commented. “Have you and Ethel been trying to take in all of Mardi Gras in a few hours?”
“Something like that,” she admitted with a sigh. “I was lifted to the heights all morning … now a sort of reaction has set in. I feel funny inside.”
“Too much excitement in one day,” Frank told her firmly. “You need to rest and relax. You can do that when we get home,” he went on quietly. “I’ll bundle you into bed in a dark room where you can rest and forget Mardi Gras for a few hours.”
“Be careful, child,” Trixie gurgled from the back seat. “Frank’s beds in dark rooms have a certain reputation. I warn you that you’re not likely to get much rest.”
“Be careful,” Frank warned her laughingly. “Tiny’s likely to get ideas if you betray too intimate a knowledge of my beds and what goes on there.”
“That’s all right,” Trixie called back gayly. “Tiny knows all the dirt. He admits that it’s a part of every girl’s education to spend at least one night with you. Don’t you, Tiny?”
“I admit that one may as well face the facts,” Tiny admitted lugubriously. “It’s a fact that the girls in New Orleans can be divided in two classifications. Virgins … and those who have slept at Frank’s.”
“Slept at?” Frank protested. “What do you mean by that?”
Barbara was very careful to hold a smile on her lips during the entire conversation. Her soul protested that she should be shocked, but her mind accepted the new order. She was an alien, and she must embrace this new faith so long as she remained with these new friends. This was all a part of Mardi Gras. And she wanted, desperately, to hug it to her bosom.
She wondered fleetingly about the incident just passed. The apartment, the wine, and Frankie and Johnny. Was that, too, a legitimate part of Mardi Gras? Ethel had accepted it calmly. She wondered if Ethel had known what the girls wanted when she suggested they accept the invitation. What was it Ethel had said? “Mark it down to experience!”
She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Her little world had crashed asunder. She had no foundation left. Nothing by which she could judge this new mode of thought. All her standards were useless now. Everything that was safe and secure had been swept away from beneath her feet.
She wondered what Frank would say if she told him about Frankie. The similarity of the names struck her with sudden force, and she found herself chuckling weakly. This surprised and heartened her. She had felt that she would never be able to chuckle about the awful thing that had happened.
She opened her eyes and found Frank regarding her curiously. “Let me in on the joke,” he urged. “It sounds too good to keep all to yourself.”
“You wouldn’t appreciate it,” she told him demurely.
“How do you know I wouldn’t?” Frank drove skillfully, with occasional side glances at her.
“You were part of it,” Barbara confessed.
“Well, I’m proud I had a part in making you chuckle so happily. But I do wish you’d tell me the rest.”
“Perhaps I will.” Barbara closed her eyes again. “Given a dark corner and an opportunity,” she ended softly.
“You shall have both,” Frank assured her.
His home was in the northwest section. A beautiful colonial type house, set in the midst of stately trees near the West End Country Club. There was a long curving drive which led in from the street to a side entrance.
Barbara opened her eyes when the car stopped. Then she sat up with a start.
“We’re here,” Frank said briefly. “All out for Dupree corners.”
The other car swept up the drive behind them just then, and the four couples converged in a merry group to run up the front steps and storm the front door. A grizzled darky admitted them with a smile which seemed to split his black face from ear to ear.
“Yassuh, Mistuh Frank,” he beamed. “Dey’s all de res’ in deh now. Dey sho bin callin’ fo’ mint juleps powehful fas’.”
“I hope they haven’t called in vain,” Frank said laughingly as they moved to the high-ceilinged parlor. “But I guess I needn’t worry about that,” he added as a blast of music and merriment came through the portières. “The party seems to be pretty well organized.”
He held tightly to Barbara’s arm as they stepped into the parlor. She received a kaleidoscopic impression of many couples dancing on a cleared space in the center of the room, and many more couples more or less intimately draped together in chairs and lounges set back against the walls. All were in costume, and all seemed to be the merrier for the mint juleps they had consumed while awaiting the arrival of their host.
There was a huge punch bowl on a side table about which a number swarmed. Shouts of greeting went up as the newcomers were recognized. Staying close to Frank, Barbara was introduced in a helter-skelter manner to all who could crowd close. Her most vivid impression was the air of unforced happiness which seemed so much a part of the gathering.
It was all so gay and merry that she could not help falling into the mood which prevailed. The punch was pungent and cold. With a strangely exotic savor which she could not identify. But it leaped happily through her veins while she laughed and danced and listened to fervid protestations of love from all the men who could get close enough to her for an interval of thirty seconds.
An hour passed, and the wild hilarity grew more unrestrained. She was dancing with Carl, and he insisted on fastening his lips at the point where her neck joined her shoulder, and holding them there as he danced. She didn’t like it because Carl’s lips were blubbery. She was wondering how she was going to get away from him when she saw Frank coming to her rescue.
He bumped into them purposefully, and swung Barbara away from him. “Sorry,” he called mockingly over his shoulder as he danced away with Barbara.
Then he smiled down at her. “You mustn’t mind Carl,” he said comfortingly.
Barbara shuddered. “I tried not to,” she confessed. “And I got along all right until he started licking me with his tongue. Ugh!” She expressed her repugnance with a grimace.
“It’s all right.” Frank danced toward the wide doors leading out to the veranda. “Shall we get some fresh air?” he suggested.
“Oh yes!” Barbara clung to him weakly as they danced onto the wide porch. “It’s so stuffy in there,” she si
ghed.
“We’ll sit this one out,” he proposed, disengaging his arm and leading her toward a lounge which stood in the dark shadow of a climbing rose on the trellis.
“Oh! It’s wonderful out here,” Barbara murmured. She sank down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m afraid I can’t stand the pace,” she said woefully. “All I want to do is sit quietly and rest.”
“That’s a crazy gang,” Frank muttered. His arm was tightly about her waist. “And this is just the beginning,” he warned. “They’ll keep this up for hours till they all pass out. That’s their idea of having a good time.”
“What’s yours?” she questioned softly.
“This,” he returned. His arm pressed her closer. His voice flowed evenly. “After all’s said and done … it takes just two in perfect harmony to constitute a good time.”
“Two … of the opposite sex?” she asked queerly.
“Why … yes.” Frank hesitated. His lips brushed across her hair. “Unless … of course …” He hesitated again.
“Unless what?” she asked breathlessly.
“Unless … well … it’s abnormal if there’s not the desire for the opposite sex.”
“Sexual desire?” Barbara’s voice was faint. Her daring frightened her. But she nerved herself to go on. “Is that what you mean?”
“It all gravitates to that.” Frank spoke grudgingly. “Every strong desire in life springs from the sexual impulse … sublimated or otherwise.”
“Then … this is sexual desire … my enjoyment of lying quietly in your arms?” Barbara’s body was tense.
“Yes,” Frank said evenly. “Subconsciously … whether you realize it or not.”
“I don’t realize it,” Barbara cried desperately. “That’s what frightens me. Perhaps I’m not normal. Perhaps it’s because you are of the opposite sex!” There. It was out. She relaxed and drew in her breath sharply. Had she said too much? Would Frank understand … or would he despise her?
He laughed quietly. “Don’t worry about that,” he reassured her. “I’m quite certain your impulses are normal.”
Mardi Gras Madness Page 6
