My friends had suggested I needed a vacation. It had been nearly two years since my jerkface shitwad ex-husband had walked out on me and the kids. I had worn myself ragged trying to keep up with all the schedules, homework and extra-curriculars, then trying to keep up with my own job - forget trying to have a life of my own.
Dickface had picked up the kids - with his "perky" girlfriend in tow - for the summer and I had some time to myself. Narda and Margo had practically phoned the airline themselves and booked my flight to New Orleans. I had thought we were all going together until the night before the trip when as I was packing I found out they had tricked me. I was going solo. It would cost me more than I paid for the ticket to cancel it now, those bitches!
"You need it, you deserve it. You love great food and great jazz, what better place than the Big Easy. Go have a great time, forget us, forget the kids, forget asshole and his slut girlfriend. Go have a great time in the city care forgot!" What was a girl to do...
It was early June, before the tourist season started, but not before the heat. They never mention that about NOLA in the tourist brochures - its fucking 99 during the day with 110% humidity. What's the point in taking a shower, you're sweating as soon as you walk outside. But, the city is beautiful and after a couple of belts on Bourbon St. you do begin to forget all your cares. I had made the round of touristy sights - the French Quarter, the Garden District, the new D-Day Museum. I rode the street car up and down St. Charles admiring the beautiful old homes. I rented a car and drove out the river road and visited the plantations on the Mississippi. Not to mention, I ate fabulous food - The Pelican Club, Delmonico's, Dick and Jenny's and the fabulous Adolfo's. And then of course there was jazz. This is New Orleans jazz, the original, the best. On every street corner you hear musicians, combos, good enough to rival any club you might go to in Manhattan. Music is everywhere, all around you. If you stay in New Orleans long enough it gets into your blood. That creole rhythm, a blend of African, Caribbean, Spanish, French and who knows what else that carries you away, oozes into your pores and clouds your mind like the best weed you've ever smoked. I was in heaven. No kids, no husband or even ex to think about. No worries, no cares in the city care forgot.... hmmm a recipe for debauchery if ever I heard one!
It was my last weekend and I was off to try something new. The owners of the B&B where I was a guest told me I had to try Frenchmen St. if I wanted a true New Orleans experience. I took the trolley down to Canal and decided to start my pub crawl in the Quarter at O'flaherty's. Danny opened at 8 and two sets, four whiskies and three hours later I was ready to move on. I walked down to the Marigny humming "Waltzing with bears" to myself. I stopped in at the now ubiquitous Snug Harbor on Frenchmen St. and listened to Charmaine sing a set, paying a ridiculous amount for a Pimm's Cup. Then it was on to the Spotted Cat and just for shits and grins I strolled through Kim's to catch a drag act or two before I made my way to Cafe Brasil.
Mmmmm, Latin jazz combined with a smooth buzz from Irish whiskey, Pimm's and a Sazerac or two. Was I just imagining it or had that cute brunette followed me from Snug Harbor. What the hell was I thinking! I had never entertained a single bisexual thought. But, she was cute. 5'2 or so, dark brown curly hair to her shoulders, cute face with a darling little button nose, a smile that made you giggle. I hadn't yet paid much attention to her figure, though she looked trim. Come on, what the fuck is going on in your head. You like boys, babe. Cock. Remember. Even if he was a world-class jerk, your ex knew how to fuck didn't he? God, didn't he make your toes curl during sex? Why am I thinking about sex while I am looking at this girl from across the room? What the hell would she see in you, I asked myself, a thirty-something divorced mother, rounding around the edges, plain, lets face it, dumpy. Why the hell am I suddenly caring what this girl thinks of me, but God I do!
I snap myself out of it and make my way the R Bar on Royal St. This is a weird, funky bar. Full of Marigny neighborhood types, real New Orleans folk, not the fake shit you find in the Quarter. Now I don't care anymore and I'm trying to erase the strange thoughts and desires that are coursing through my brain so I order an ouzo. I have just felt the thick, sweet liquid burning down my throat when I look up and see her enter the bar. Yea, the same cute brunette from Brasil and now I'm sure Kim's and before that Snug Harbor. While I had been viewed with a great deal of skepticism from the other patrons, she is accepted as one of their own. I should have run. She sat beside me and looked approvingly at my choice of potent potables and ordered the same.
"You know that shit will fuck you up," she said, sipping her own.
"Maybe I need a good fucking," I blurted before my brain could engage. Shit! What the hell was I thinking!!
She looked me eye to eye and I felt my heart melt, not to mention my pussy. "I like you," she whispered.
Suddenly, I didn't care that I was a pudgy, 38yr old mother. That my skin wasn't quite clear, that my breasts were getting longer, while my ass was getting fuller. In her eyes, I felt desirable and wanted and needed. I felt sexy. Slightly graying black hair; full but sagging breasts; big ass; legs that aren't long enough for how thick they are.... Shit, why did I feel so lovely in her eyes....
She looked at me with desire and I could only look back in wonder, though desire wasn't far behind. I knocked back the rest of my drink and she signaled for a refill for me. We spoke of nothing and everything for the next I don't know how long. I don't remember anyone else in the place and honestly can't tell you a thing about it. For some reason I think we must have played a round of pool or something that I lost or maybe I won, because she told me I was the prize. A thrill shot through me. Me. A prize! What a thought...
Next thing I can remember we are in her apartment and she is holding me close while we dance to Ella singing "What about me?"
Weeks, days, hours ago I would have beat the crap out of anyone who suggested I might be bisexual. But tonight, here I was slow dancing with this pretty little lady and turning my head to kiss...
Our lips met, hungry, needy, but in no hurry. Lip to lip for an eternity. Her hands caressing my back as I melted into her arms. Though she led the dancing, she left me in charge of getting started. Finally, overcome with the heat that had been building since I arrived in this town almost a week ago, I let my tongue slip between her lips and for the first time in my life, I kissed another woman.
Oh, it was sweet and warm and sultry. Her hand found the top of my hips and pulled me into her pelvis and we rocked together while we kissed more and more passionately and ground into each other, stoking our passions to white hot flame.
We danced our way to her bedroom and I let her undress me on the way. Unbuttoning my blouse, slipping it from my shoulders; undoing my jeans and unzipping me until I stood in the moonlight by her bed in only my bra and panties. I felt no self-consciousness about reaching behind me to unsnap my bra. Yes, my breasts sagged down, but she gasped in desire not shock, which made my nipples stand out hard and my pussy ooze. The moon shining in her window and the breeze blowing the sheers combined with the look in her eyes to make me feel sexier than I had felt in years. I did a slow pirouette and peeled my panties down with my ass toward her. Did she moan as the slivery moonlight kissed my ass? I shivered inside and moved toward her naked and hot.
I held her hands away from me as I kissed her lips. I tugged her little sleeveless sweater over her head and kissed my way up and down her neck as I undid her bra and pulled it away from her body. We both gasped as our nipples found each others. We kissed, eyes staring into each others as we ground together. I still held her hands from touching me and pushed her down on the bed. I grabbed the waist of her slacks and pulled them down, admiring the black thong that still covered heaven. For now, I was the agressor.
