I followed her through the crowd to the bathrooms, ignoring several drunken invitations to dance, a lewd proposition, and two pinches on the butt.
"Mel, you OK? Um, how's it going?"
Face flushed, sherry-colored eyes sparkling, Melissa said, "Great. I like him a lot. He's a really good kisser."
"Yes, I can see that. You guys must be getting pretty good by now with all the practice you've been doing," I said dryly.
"He's in town with his job and has a roommate so we can't be alone at his place. Is it OK if I use our room for a while?"
Even though it was late and I was tired, I couldn't deny her. She'd been depressed lately over a disintegrating relationship and I hadn't seen her this animated in months.
"Sure, go ahead. It'll be like we were back in college. Just take the Do Not Disturb sign down when it's safe for me to come back. And BE CAREFUL."
"Sure, sure," she giggled like a teenager, gave me a big hug and rushed off.
I took a few minutes to repair my lipstick and comb my hair, critically surveying my satiny pink halter-top and black miniskirt. They still looked relatively fresh and unwrinkled, considering how long ago we'd left the condo. Then I rejoined Chris, who had ordered us another round.
"Well, it looks like I'm homeless for a while. Mel asked me to give her some quality time with her new beau and though I'm exhausted I just couldn't refuse."
"It would be my honor to keep you company, ma petite," Chris took my hand and kissed it. "Would you like to take a stroll down Bourbon Street?"
I agreed and we left the bar and began walking aimlessly, chatting and people-watching. After a half hour, my feet began to ache. When I mentioned it, he said he'd like another drink, so I started to look for a likely looking bar or restaurant. However, he motioned me toward a building a block off the main street with a sign in the window reading "Christopher Arceneaux, Attorney-at-Law".
"I live upstairs."
I gave him an arch look, "How convenient."
He laughed at me and said, "If you're not comfortable we can go back to a nice public restaurant."
"I can take care of myself," I said. "I have a second degree black belt and my boots are registered as lethal weapons." I gestured toward my stiletto-heeled black leather boots and continued, "So consider yourself duly warned, Counselor."
He smiled in acknowledgement and led the way up a narrow staircase. His apartment was small but charming, decorated in an understated masculine style.
"It's nice on the balcony, why don't you go sit out there while I get us a drink. Another beer?" he offered.
"No, I think I've had enough. I'd love iced tea if you have it or if not, water's fine," I said.
"Comin' right up, cher."
Stepping out onto the small balcony, I smiled as the smooth sax of David Sanborn came pouring from two small speakers mounted on the wall. Chris returned with two glasses of iced tea garnished with lemon and a sprig of mint. Instead of an iron table and chairs, he'd installed a swing, complete with fluffy striped cushions. He sat down next to me, idly pushing the swing with one foot as we watched the revelers who packed Bourbon Street spill down his small side street.
"How long are you here for?" he queried presently.
"Just the weekend," I said regretfully.
"Then we'd better make our time together count," he whispered, drawing me close for a soft kiss on the lips.
I sighed with pleasure and leaned into him, letting my eyes drift shut. His big hand reached up and cupped the back of my neck, drawing me closer. His tongue danced lightly over my lips, slipping inside my mouth. His mouth was warm and tasted faintly of mint. I put my hands on his broad shoulders and began to explore his neck and upper arms. He was well-muscled but not bulky. I ran my fingers through the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck, then traced the shell of his left ear lightly with my tongue. He shivered slightly, causing me to smile at his responsiveness. He returned the favor by kissing his way down my jaw, nuzzling the sensitive skin of my neck, then licking his way along my collarbone. It was my turn to shiver and I could feel my nipples harden against the silky material of my blouse.
He returned his attention to my mouth, the kiss becoming deeper and more passionate. One of his hands came up to cup my breast under my pink top. He caressed gently, rubbing and squeezing, his fingers teasingly circling the nipple. Moaning involuntarily, I pressed myself into his hand trying to entice him to play with the stiff tip. He ran his fingers over it, eliciting another moan; meanwhile his other hand was busily exploring my hips and outside thighs, running up and down the side of my tight black skirt.
"Oh, Chris," I whispered. "That feels so good."
He switched hands and rubbed the other breast which was aching for attention. His other hand sneaked around behind me to investigate the round cheeks of my ass. He rubbed both of them, then leisurely ran the side of his hand up and down the cleft between them.
Heedless of the people milling around on the street below, I began to undo his conservative button-down shirt.
"I want to feel your skin," I said longingly. He shrugged out of his shirt to give me better access and I eagerly began to run my hands over his lightly furred chest. I caressed his well-toned biceps then return to explore his hard pecs and flat brown nipples. He groaned when I pinched one lightly.
"Sensitive nipples, huh? Me, too," I smiled impishly. Lowering my head I touched one with the tip of my tongue, licking it lightly before drawing it into my mouth to suck. He dug his hands into my hips as I gave it a little nip, then blew on it to ease the sting.
"Be careful, cher," he said. "Turnabout is fair play."
"Oh, I can take it," I assured him.
Before I realized what he was doing he whipped my shirt over my head. I gasped, both at the cooling night air on my skin and the realization that anyone who happened to look up could see me. My shyness was forgotten, however, when he dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth.
"Ooohhh," I moaned. He tortured me with slow licks, tantalized with little nibbles. All the while his hand cupped my other breast, kneading the soft flesh and stroking the sensitive nipple. He alternated between sucking my nipple and giving me slow, deep, wet kisses that made my head spin. His patient foreplay was incredibly arousing. I could feel my pussy softening, moistening, aching to be filled.
When his strong hands left my body my eyes popped open in dismay, but I soon realized he was only moving down to unbutton my skirt. He did so, then pulled me to my feet so he could slip it down my legs. He helped me step out of it and I was left standing before him in only my high-heeled black leather boots, fishnet thigh-high stockings and lacy pink thong.
"Beautiful," he said, hooking his fingers into the side strings and sliding it slowly down my legs. Looking at the scrap of silk and lace in his hand, he commented, "Nice bow. Why do I feel like I've seen it somewhere before?"
Coming back to his feet he drew me close. He kissed me hard, rubbing my ass, pressing me against the bulge in his pants. I circled my hips, grinding against him, trying to get closer. I heard a burst of drunken laughter from below, opened my eyes again and feebly tried to pull away.
"Someone will see," I said urgently.
"Nobody cares. It's Mardi Gras," he said. "Let's give'em a real show."
Surrendering to my heretofore-latent streak of exhibitionism, I became bolder, rubbing lazy circles on his back while pressing my erect nipples to his broad chest. My hands dropped to his belt, and lower, wandering to the front of his khaki slacks. I traced the outline of the large bulge, investigating with just my fingertips. Then I squeezed him lightly and began to rub a little harder with the heel of my hand.
"Just like that, darlin'," he whispered huskily. "See how much I want you."
I stroked harder, my hand trapped between our bodies and his mouth on mine. He removed his shoes and socks, then slowly stripped out of his slacks and boxers. My eyes were glued to the tanned flesh he was revealing.
