A fine sheen of sweat glistened over her body as she readied herself for the shower. The sound of the Mardi Gras seemed to pulsate through the walls of her hotel room. It hadn’t stopped since she arrived early that morning. But she had been so jet lagged from the trip that she had to try and get some sleep before she ventured out.
As she showered Fran thought about her trip. It was her lifetime wish to come to New Orleans. The food, the music, it had all appealed to her senses and she saved long and hard to get there. When her little sister said she would like to go overseas for a holiday, she talked her into the trip and started to plan their holiday. Her flight was paid and a hotel booked for Mardi Gras when her capricious sister had met her latest one true love and told her she couldn’t possibly leave the country at the beginning of their new romance. So Fran decided to go ahead with the trip on her own.
Now here she was in her little hotel room about to shower and change before joining in the festivities being celebrated in the street outside her window. The heat helped her to decide what it was she would wear. Her short, red, cotton dress would do the trick.
Fran slipped into her skin toned bra and thong before slipping the dress over her shoulders. Sweeping her long wavy auburn hair up in a ponytail, she donned a light coat of lipstick and looked herself over in the full length mirror attached to the wardrobe.
“Not bad for someone on the nearer side of forty.” She told herself.
Though she had a slight bulge to her tummy, the result of her two beautiful children she had left behind with her ex mother in law, her figure was still worth a second look. Her long legs were still smooth from the waxing she had done the week before she left. She put on her strappy, black, leather sandals.
“No heels tonight,” she informed the empty room. “Not if you are doing a lot of walking.”
Finding her shoulder bag, Fran only put enough money in it for a meal and a few drinks. She had been advised of the pickpockets that abounded New Orleans at Mardi Gras time. She would leave the rest of her money and passport and travelers checks in the hotel safe.
Giving herself one more look over, she left the room, locking her door behind her. Once in the lobby she handed over her valuables to the desk clerk and watched him lock them securely away in the safe.
“So Eugene,” she asked the clerk, “Any suggestions as to where I should start?”
“Miss all you have to do is step outside and allow the crowd to carry you along. There are many bars and restaurants along the way, should you wish to eat or drink.” He answered with his sexy southern drawl.
Fran smiled at him and head out the door. She loved accents and the accent abounding here could certainly get a girls pulse racing. The beat of the drums set the rhythm of the music as the crowd poured along the street. People were dressed in all types of costumes and or masks. Beads were loaded around their necks and as she joined the throng, a swarthy Latin looking man put a set of beads around hers and smiled at her.
“Not that you need any decoration to make you look any more beautiful, Ma’am” he told her.
Fran blushed and thanked him as they were pulled along with the multitudes.
As she followed the procession, she noticed a particularly wide set of shoulders directly in front of her. Her eyes followed the body down to a sexy tight butt clad in a tight pair of jeans. Coming back up she noticed dark slightly graying hair cut quite short.
“Mmmmmmmmmmm” she thought to herself as she continued to ogle the back of the stranger. He must have felt her eyes on him as he turned around to look. At that moment Fran was pushed from behind and felt herself falling directly at him. He put up his arms to catch her.
“Are you all right?” an English voice asked her.
“Yes,” Fran answered tentatively. “Though I think I may have twisted my ankle.” She said as she stood up straight and winced a little at the pain.
“Here, let me help you love.” He said as he put his arm around her waist and directed her through the crowd, letting her lean against him.
Fran felt more than the pain of her ankle as she leaned on him. Her pulse throbbed as she inhaled the unmistakable fragrance of Aramis.
“Oh God, that’s me lost,” she told herself as she snatched a peek at her handsome champion. The white shirt he wore gave her a glimpse of a wide chest with a mat of dark curly hair. She raised her eyes to take in a handsome smiling face and she blushed deeply as she realized that he had caught her out in her scrutiny of him.
“You should get off that ankle and maybe an ice pack will help.” He informed her. “Shall we go into this pub here and see if they can help?”
“I hate to be any trouble to you. I am sure you want to get on with the parade.” She replied.
“My pleasure,” he said, “unless you would rather I got in contact with your husband?”
“No I am quite single these days,” Fran informed him. They made their way in and he sat her at what appeared to be the only available chair in the bar.
“My name is Ian, by the way, and what can I get you to drink while I am trying to find you an ice pack?” He asked.
“I’m Fran and beer would go down a treat in this heat.” She answered.
“Do I detect an Australian accent?”
“No getting away from it,” she told him. “And you, your British one either.”
