-14-
"Betts, are you absolutely sure?" waving my empty coffee mug towards Ali for a refill. Ali had a coffee maker and fixings that she kept in her master bath, for those mornings when a trip downstairs, to make coffee, would take too long.
I was on the phone to my office, with my right hand, Betsy; she had just told me that I could stay a couple of extra days next week, but that I had a 'must-be-there' meeting scheduled for the end of that week, on Friday.
When I told Ali the news, she smiled broadly, the happiness clearly showing on her face.
"Miz Alice, Miz Lynn," we heard Momma Jo calling from the bottom of the stairs, "you girls get on down here before these grits and eggs get cold, ya'll hear me up there?"
"Yes, Momma, we hear you and we're coming," Ali shouted back to Momma Jo.
"Not yet you're not, but you will," I said to Ali, slapping her playfully on her fine ass.
~
Speeding down the boulevard, towards the river and levee, Ali was trying to beat the rain that the dark clouds above us promised to deliver to the city.
Top down on the roadster, hair flying behind us, the smell of impending showers was palatable in the air as we rushed to beat the weather.
We had decided to spend a couple of days at Ali's Quarters apartment, to fully immerse ourselves into the craziness that is, living in the French Quarters.
"Artists, street performers, weirdoes, crazies; they are all there in the Quarters," Ali said to me, laughingly. "My personal favorite thing to do, though, is to browse the Artists' stands that ring the Square."
She was speaking of Jackson Square, the epicenter of activity in the French Quarters.
We pulled into the garage just as the first raindrops fell, splattering on the dusty brickwork of the patio. Rushing into the apartment, Ali dropped the duffle bag onto the floor of the entryway as we shook off the little bit of wetness that had 'gotten us'.
Turning, facing me, she started playfully pushing me with her hands; pushing me backwards, towards the living room area of the apartment, laughing at me when the final push made me fall over the arm of the sofa, onto my back, on the sofa, looking up at her.
Staring down at me, a wicked grin on her face, she ripped her blouse from her body, buttons flying asunder.
"I believe you mentioned something about me coming?" kneeling down, lowering her naked breasts to my mouth, placing her hard nipples against my lips.
"I believe you're right about that," taking her offered breast into my mouth, closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of my tongue swirling over her nipple, and of my hand slipping under her skirt to cup her wet sex, pantiless, of course.
The rain stopped in the early afternoon, the sunlight waking us from our nap, our naked bodies entwined together in her bed.
Walking out onto the second floor balcony in our nakedness, the sun was already turning the rain puddles into steaming wisps of humidity rising from the bricked courtyard below.
Hugging me to her body, Ali kissed my forehead, smiling at me afterwards.
"What say we clean up, throw on some clothes, and hit the streets, baby," she said to me as we walked into the apartment through the French doors.
"Works for me, sweetie," I answered.
Rising from my knees, the water cascading over the both of us, I had gone down on her, in the shower.
I can't seem to get enough of her, I told her, as I nuzzled my lips into the side of her neck, her hands stoking my wet hair, and running over my ass.
"Yeah, I know the feeling, baby," she answered, "Since I've met you, I can't seem to get enough of you, either," shutting off the water, reaching for towels for us.
Smiling at me as she dried me, her hands caressing and fondling as she did so, she offered, "But, that's not a bad thing is it?"
No, it's definitely not a bad thing.
We browsed a few shops on the way to the Square, not buying anything, just 'nosing' around.
As we made our way around the wrought iron fence perimeter of Jackson Square, we saw almost every style of art for sale, hanging on the fences or on easels.
There were portraiture artists knocking out 'quickies' of visitors and tourists; cityscapes, landscapes, cubism, neo-realism, etc.
If you didn't see it here, it probably didn't exist.
I took some 'arty' photographs of our day, spending some time for different views of the Saint Louis Cathedral, that triple-spired landmark of the Quarters. Using shadows, textures of the old stonework, I blew through seventy images before I knew it.
I discovered photography in high school and have been hooked ever since, enjoying the creative release that it provides to me.
That first night with Alice-she's right by the way, I did seduce her- the night I brought her home with me? She commented when walking around the condo, during a break from the sex play, about my wall hangings.
I had enlarged some black and white photos from my portfolio, hanging them, making them art-work. She told me that she thought that they were definitely of 'show' quality, good enough for galleries.
Ali 'got' my photo-style, and that made me happy.
"Ready for some food, baby?" kissing me after she asked.
We had been walking around all afternoon, holding hands, kissing openly with small, little pecks of affection. Any fool could see that we were two people who were seriously into each other.
I was as happy that afternoon as I had ever been with another human being.
"I could eat," letting her lead me away from the Square.
"After we grab a bite, I'm taking you to someplace I know you've never been," she said, smiling wickedly. "I'm taking you to a strip club."
"I've been to strip clubs," I protested. It was only once, but still.
"Not like this one, you haven't," she laughed.
Try as I might, she wouldn't divulge any more info than that.
Ali took me to Felix's Oyster Bar, world-famous I was told, and following her instructions to 'sauce' the oysters first, I had raw oysters for the first time in my life.
It took me a couple to get the technique down, but soon I was sucking oysters from the shell with the best of 'em, followed by long pulls at ice-cold bottled beer.
"How do you like 'em," Ali asked, sucking her last one into her mouth.
"I like them, especially with the beer; not a bad combination," I answered, sucking my last one down, as well.
Leaning in towards Ali, just so she could hear what I was saying, I whispered, "Honestly, though, the way they feel sliding down my throat reminds me of swallowing cum after a blowjob," laughing as I said it.
She beamed a big smile and said, "Me, too; whew, glad I'm not the only one who thinks that," joining me in laughter.
As we approached the Strip Club, it was jammed with people tying to get inside.
The posters on the outside walls showed some gorgeous damned women, long slender legs, beautiful skin, lips, and tits. "Good looking women," I told Ali.
"They not women," she said, "at least, not yet they're not. They're 'trannies', most of them needing that final operation to give them a vagina, to make their transformation complete."
I stared at her, open-mouthed, like some damn farmer from Nebraska.
"I shit you not," she said to me as she walked us up to the doorman.
Of course, she knew him; she knew a hell of a lot of people in the Quarters I was to find out.
He ushered us inside, found us a small banquette facing the stage and told the waitress that our drinks were on the house.
It's good to know a lot of people in the Quarters, I figured out.
Those two hours we spent there were the most fun I've had with my clothes on in a hell of long time.
The 'girls' were all fucking beautiful and sexy; the drunk tourists and business people making fools of themselves over the performers.
The dancers hustled the guys for drinks and lap dances, they hustled the touristas and their wives, flirting with them, shaking their silicone boobs in their faces.
All were having a 'bon temps', as Ali would say.
Not having the luxury of the doorman to plow a path for us through the crowd that had filled the club, it took us nearly fifteen minutes to fight our way to the outside, to the fresh, cooler air.
"Damn, girl, it was only thirty feet but I'll bet my ass and boobs were felt and pinched a dozen times," shaking my head in disbelief.
Pulling her top to the side, she revealed some red pinch marks on the side of her breast.
"Bourbon Street tattoo; wear it with pride," she laughingly said.
She walked us down a side street, heading back towards the Square, our arms around each other, our heads against each other's. Stopping every once in a while, we'd embrace, we'd kiss, we'd fondle the other.
It was good, I thought, so damned fine.
"One more stop before we go home, Lynn; Harry's is an old established bar that most tourists don't find, except by accident, which is just fine with the locals. It's been a favorite haunt of some notable writers and musicians, I've been told."
"Sounds just fine to me," I dreamingly said to her, my hand squeezing one of her ass-cheeks, liking the curve of her butt in my hand.
Being a Monday evening, Harry's wasn't crowded and we had no problem finding a couple of seats at the bar.
"Hey girl, where the hell have you been?" a smiling cute face asked in greeting to Ali, but including me in her smile.
"Kay, this is my friend, Lynn."
Taking my hand in hers, Kay leaned over the bar and kissed me on the cheek.
"Any friend of Alice's is always welcomed in this bar," smiling brightly at me.
