The Siren of New Orleans

Fuck.

"Don't stop." She pleaded, the soft heels of her feet digging into Diana's back. "God, please don't!"

Diana didn't answer as her fingers played with the delicate heart between the woman's thighs. Soft, wet, that was all Diana needed. There was nothing that did the job better than sliding your fingers into that, she thought, feeling the warmth and watching the woman move under her.

The girl, a barista from the Café down the street from where Diana lived, wasn't all that different from Diana's usual fare. Her face was soft and round, cheeks and collarbone flushed a deep red that only served to highlight the paleness of her skin. The rest of her body could only be described as supple, everything full and ripe in just the right places, but thin and taut in all the rest. It was a stark contrast to Diana's form, which was toned, muscled, and an olive color that matched her dark black hair.

Diana's hand glided up the barista's leg as the other hand continued to bask in her heat, still measuring the gentle folds and the hugging curves deeper inside.

"Oh yeah! OH YES!" The barista, Diana distantly guessed her name was something like Sabrina or Samantha, screamed and clenched, her thin fingers digging rapturously into the soft sheets of her bed. Diana watched maybe-Sabrina climax, watched her back arc into the air and felt a ripple of her own start to move. Her hand left the woman's leg and disappeared inside her own pants to finish it all.

When it was done, Diana was already moving around the room to pick up the few clothes she had tossed aside.

"You don't have to leave, you could stay. I don't mind." Sabrina, or Samantha, rubbed her head, still trying to piece her mind back together.

"Thanks, but my shift starts soon." Diana threw on her leather jacket and laced up her boots. "I'll call you."

"Did I even give you my nu-" The door shut before she could finish her sentence, and Diana was jogging up the stairs to her own apartment. She didn't guess that Sam-brina knew they lived in the same building, but it probably wasn't going to be pretty when she found out.

It wasn't that Diana wanted to never call the girl back, or that she particularly reveled in the trail of broken hearts she left in her wake. It wasn't personal, it wasn't that she was trying to be a dick, but she just hadn't found the spark yet, the woman who could be the light at the end of her tunnel. Sabrina. Samantha. Whatever her name is, Diana thought, she just wasn't that light.

"Hey, finish up another late shift?" A door clicked shut and a tired looking brunette appeared on the landing where Diana's apartment sat. Her name was Rain, a real hippy name, but it fit her. She had big pretty brown eyes and chestnut brown hair that brought out the roundness of her cheeks.

"Yeah." Diana smiled at her, skipping up the last few steps before standing next to the woman. Diana was much taller than Rain, a solid six feet compared to Rain's modest five foot four. The difference in height between the two was almost staggering when they stood next to one another, but Diana liked it that way. "Studying Greek mythology at six am, huh?" She grinned and nodded at the books Rain was carrying.

"Yeah..." Rain rolled her eyes with a laugh. "I have a big exam coming up on Thursday, and I'd like to get all my studying done now before Halloween."

"Trick or treating?" Diana teased.

"Nah, just a big party, it's kind of a mandatory thing. Can't miss it."

Mandatory?

"Alright. Be safe then, alright?" Diana tossed her keys out of her pocket and into the air before catching them without sparing even a glance.

"Yeah, sure thing. Officer." Rain laughed and waved goodbye.

Diana watched Rain head down the stairs before slinking into her own apartment, the heavy sleeplessness in her eyes already creeping back up.

**************************

"You sure? I don't mind driving over." The radio crackled Jim's message along with the questionable sincerity in his voice. "I'm probably a half hour out though. Could check dispatch to see if anyone's closer."

"Don't worry about it." Diana spoke into her shoulder-radio, still leaning against her squad car as she stomped her feet for a bit of warmth. "If there's a party going on over here, it sure as hell can't be as wild as dispatch said it was. Either that or the party ended a hundred years ago. Place looks deserted. Just wish it wasn't so fucking cold."

"Cold? You sick, Chief? Want to trade? The Quarter is a fucking nightmare, and its not even midnight yet. You would think these assholes would be too old for Halloween. Sheesh."

Diana looked down at the bulky black watch on her wrist, the faint glowing light of the digital numbers just barely visible enough to make out the time.

11:21.

"I think I'm good. I'd rather risk a few meth heads than deal with that b.s."

"Well aren't you feeling charitable toni-" Jim's voice cut out as screams drowned him out. It was enough to make Diana's muscles tense and the all too familiar lump in her throat to resurface. A split second was all it took in her line of work, and no matter how brave or experienced you were, every time you heard that noise a little part of you jumped. The part of you that was always ready to hear the worst.

If you didn't jump, you were just fucking crazy.

"WOOO!"

"Trick or Treat, OFFICER!"

"Here, have a drink! Come on man! Just do a shot with us!"

"I'll show you my..."

"Ma'am, please take a step back. Cover yourself." Diana heard Jim's voice, calm and professional, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll catch you later Chief. Good luck with your haunted mansion. Out"

"10-4."

Chief. It was a nickname everyone in the academy had given her after she graduated at the top of her class. They all said that she was going to be Chief of Police someday. That with how fast she could run, how hard she could punch, how tight she grouped her shots and good she was with handling aggressive civilians. There was no doubt that one day she was going to be the head honcho. Diana had laughed it off at the time. All she wanted to do was be the fucking best there every fucking was. And that was good enough for her. Politics was an afterthought. In the past year or so though, something had changed in her. Her career was still on the fast track, the drive to succeed was still there, but every day she started to feel like she was running on less and less, like she had been running on fumes for a while and was only just now starting to notice it.

Diana brushed back a few stray bits of hair that had fallen from the tight bun of her hair, tucking them back into place as though it would somehow distract her from the oppressive silence that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. Cities were weird like that, she thought. Most of the time there was always a low hum of something but at other times, if you were in just the right place at the right time, there was nothing at all.

"Fuck." Diana pushed her fingers through her hair before checking her duty belt and pulling out the heavy mag-lite. She clicked it on and scanned the impossibly big mansion again, the beam of white light casting more shadows than it seemed to dispel. Someone had called in a noise complaint to this address, but Diana had no idea how in the world dispatch had believed them.

The mansion looked completely abandoned, and the street around it was completely devoid of any signs of life. No cars, no bikes, or even through traffic. The old wrought iron gate out front was open, and the old brick walkway overgrown with weeds and grass. A few old marble statues stood guard inside, each in varying states of chipped decay. The entire property, despite being wedged between two sleek and new looking chrome office buildings, looked like it had been wholly neglected for decades. But that was New Orleans, Diana nodded quietly to herself as she marched up the front steps to two massive French doors.

"Noise complaint my ass." Diana muttered as she tried to look through the dirt-stained windows, seeing only thick brown smudges and the reflection of her flashlight. She listened to see if she could hear anything inside, but after five minutes of waiting and hearing nothing she gave up on being stealthy.

"Police Department." She knocked on the door and waited for a moment, a formality to head off any legal issues just in case there were people inside. Still though, not a sound came from the mansion. At this point Diana was fairly sure that this had been a prank from dispatch, probably something organized by Mike, but the last thing she wanted was to leave and find out later that a bunch of kids playing around and secretly partying in the place had fallen through some old rotten floor and gotten hurt.

After hearing nothing, Diana tried opening the door, expecting it to be locked. When the heavy doors swung open, however, she blinked in pure astonishment. And not just because it was unlocked.

What the hell? She asked herself in disbelief before stepping inside.

It was Halloween in New Orleans, so insanity was somewhat expected. The solemn and abandoned exterior of the plantation house, however, had been utterly misleading as to what was actually taking place inside. A massive grand ballroom stretched out before her, bigger than any Diana had ever seen, but instead of the emptiness she had expected, it was filled with hundreds of well-dressed and elaborately masked men and women dancing to music that thumped as passionately as any jazz club in the French Quarter could muster on the best of days. Trumpets blared, the cello thrummed, and the long moan of the trombone led them all in an energetic beat. Everywhere the light gleamed off the mass of people and the vast crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, glittering like flecks of gold on the sea. Even though the outside of the mansion looked like it was falling apart, the inside looked like the Ritz-Carlton.

"The fuck?" Diana looked around in disbelief, unsure if what she was seeing was actually physically possible. How could there be so many people here when there wasn't a single car in the street? Why hadn't she heard the music? Why did it seem so dark from the outside when it is so bright on the inside? The next thing to run through her head was Diana considering the distinct possibility that she was hallucinating, and that she seriously needed to consider the possibility that she had a drinking problem. She hadn't heard anything when she was outside, and there was no way there was enough parking around here for all these people. Hell, she thought, there weren't any fucking cars parked in the street at all!

Diana walked hesitantly into the crowd, holstering her flashlight as she was absorbed into the atmosphere of the jazz masquerade. She admired the people, their beautiful tuxedos, dresses, and colorful feathered masks. She gawked at the massive chandeliers that morphed the light of the room into rainbows when she looked at them from just the right angle, and couldn't help but feel small when she stood beneath the freshly painted Greco-Roman columns that towered up from the ballroom floor like old oak trees in the park. The entire place was bursting with more life than any party Diana had even been called to break up, and the heat made by the hundreds of people inside was more than enough to ward off the chill city air outside. Anywhere else in the world a post-war era themed jazz party would have seemed out of place, perhaps even creepy, but in New Orleans it didn't seem that far off.

It wasn't until the first drunk party girl bumped into her and kept going that Diana realized that she was, in fact, not drunk or dreaming, and that there was no way in hell that this party had the proper permits and licenses. Hell, the fire marshal would fucking kill me if he saw this. How old is this place anyway? Whole thing could come down at any second.

"Good evening, Officer. Is there something I can help you with?" A woman, long wavy bright blonde hair framing a face covered by a mask painted in greens and yellows, smiled at Diana. She was wearing a ballroom gown like all the other women in the room, although hers was a deep emerald color and was cut in just the right ways to show off more than just her lithe frame. The music, combined with the enticingly clad woman standing in front her, was just loud enough that it made it hard for Diana to think, but the woman's voice cut through the sound like a gentle breeze in the oppressively hot air.

"I'm Lexa, the Gatekeeper. We're so happy to have you with us, Officer?..."

"Officer Smith. You in charge here, Miss?" Diana glanced around before fixing her gaze at the emerald-clad woman, her hands firmly planted on her duty belt.

"Me? All this?" Lexa laughed, her smile as bright as the delicate gold candelabras that lit the room. "No, Officer. I just look after the door... and dance a little when no one's looking." Lexa stepped closer to Diana, the sound of her high heels clicking on the wooden floor as she drew closer.

"Alright..." Diana straightened her back and looked around again, as she forced her attention towards the dance floor. "Who's in charge then?"

"Oh." Lexa's mouth framed a circle as the realization dawned over her. "You're not wearing a costume, are you? You're the real deal, huh?" Her hand, nails painted a bright green with little gems on the end to match her mask, brushed down the cop's arm. As Diana looked away from Lexa and towards the crowd, she couldn't help but think that it looked as though, out of the corner of her eye, Lexa had disappeared. When Diana looked back, however, she was still there, clear as day.

"Ma'am, I'm going to ask you again to take me to whoever is in charge here unless you want this whole thing shut down." She reasserted, her jaw working slightly as she tried to ignore just how little the woman's ballgown left to the imagination.

"Officer, I don't think that-"

"Now. Understand? I'm not going to ask nicely the next time." Diana stepped forward to look down at the greeter, a hand already moving to rest on the handcuffs in her belt. The music was overbearingly loud, a deep husky voice singing a jazz tune that Diana had heard a thousand times before, but the silence between Diana and the masked stranger was louder.

"Whatever you say, Officer Smith." Lexa smiled predatorily, the golden glint of her long hair highlighted by the crystal colors cast from the chandeliers as she entwined her fingers into the cop's hand and pulled. "Right this way."

"Miss, that really isn't necessary." Diana tried to pull her hand away from the girl but found that, despite the best wishes of her mind, her body seemed to have other plans whenever she caught sight of just how much of the girl's lower back was exposed. This was the point where her P.O.S.T. training instructed her to immediately unhand the civilian, prepare to defend herself, and clearly assert that the civilian should refrain from touching her.

Well, none of that happened, and as Diana found herself being guided through the ocean of dancing people, she couldn't help but feel as though she had pulled the short straw when she'd been told that this particular noise complaint was her assignment. Diana worked hard to make sure she kept work and play separate, but this was starting to feel much more like latter.

"Miss—" She dodged a waiter carrying an unsteady tower of dazzling champagne glasses. Whoever had organized an event this big had to be someone big, maybe one of the football players for the Saints, or a rapper, maybe even some celebrity from out of town. Jim had almost arrested Brittany Spears at a party once, and the whole thing did not turn out well for him.

"What's this person's name?" Diana tried again, shouting louder and putting her mouth closer to the golden haired woman's ear. Floral and something like lavender, she thought, though she couldn't quite place it. Dark and sweet, like moss in the fall.

The masked-girl's ear twitched as Diana whispered in her ear, and for a moment she bared her throat to the officer in a way that was as playful as it was suggestive.

"You don't already know?" The green and gold of her eyes shined through the slotted holes of her mask as she turned to face Diana while they walked. "You're going to love her. Everyone loves Ruby, real cop or not this year!"

Not once did the woman stop walking while her back was to the crowd, her feet nimbly guiding her through the mass as everyone parted for her with seamless grace. The still nameless woman pulled Diana through a door on the far side of the ballroom, the inside darkly lit with crimson light. The music faded into a dull throb behind them, almost total darkness following at their heels. There were shapes everywhere, faint outlines of people still wearing their masks moving against one another. Occasionally a door would open somewhere and a splash of light would flash like lightning through the room, and the bare bodies of party-goers were illuminated against one another. Some of the people in the crimson room were wearing masks while others were long lost. What little light there was played off the sweat of their bodies as they danced passionately upon one another, grinding and moving with inexorable slowness in ways that left little to the imagination. It was a hedonistic waltz, a ballet of desire that wove them all together like tapestries hanging on a wall.

Definitely no permit.

Somewhere, Diana caught a glimpse of a woman she thought she knew, a face she couldn't quite place but seemed all too familiar to ignore. She slowed and resisted her guide's incessant tugging in an attempt to see again, hoping for another flash of light to reveal what she feared. When the light came it was quick, only a flash, but she knew it was her. Rain was pressed into the arms of another girl, one who seemed impossibly tall and thin, and her lips were locked on the girl's breast with a trickle of something leaking from the corner of her lips.

Diana froze, and the collar of her uniform suddenly seemed a great deal tighter than it was before.

But the revealing light was gone as fast as it had came, and Rain disappeared back into the darkness. The woman's hand tugged Diana onward, pulling her away towards a now distant red light that grew brighter as they came closer. It was a single red bulb above a steel doorway, and with every step closer the mystery of the dark room grew deeper.

"Here we are." Lexa smiled, a hand on the door. "Good luck." She reached up on her toes, almost floating, as she planted a lingering kiss on Diana's cheek. "Nice to meet you."

The doors to the red room opened, and Diana stepped inside, Lexa's kiss still burning on her cheek.

"Oh, already?" A voice chimed as the doors slammed shut. It was like vanilla, sweet but bitter to taste. "I wasn't expecting a woman. I don't think that's ever happened before."

The bright light of the ballroom gleamed through a large half-window in the wall, and a woman appeared in front of a small oaken bar on the far side of the room. Her hair was crimson, the same color of the split leg cocktail dress that dove dangerously low on her chest. The dress brushed against the floor as her heels clicked, her elbow leaning on the bar's edge. Her body was soft and curvy, her lips a bright red that begged your eyes to stare before they dipped lower. She was a throwback to another era, like she belonged in an old movie standing next to Marilyn Monroe or some other post-World War II starlet.

"M-Miss..." Diana stuttered, her wires utterly crossed as her brain attempted to determine whether or not to grin and engage, or stay professional and keep her job.

Fight. Flight. Or Fuck.

"Well, something I can help you with..." The corner of Ruby's lip pulled up in a half-smirk, her long wavy hair falling over her shoulder. "...Officer?"