FrenchQuarter.htm by Alexander Lacey (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

Even when she’d walked into Jack’s office that first day, dressed so sexy and acting so brazen—that was nothing compared to this. The heat of knowing she was worthy to wear such a sex-promising outfit ran through her veins and made her cunt pulse against the bar stool she climbed up on. Her breasts strained against the leather; her whole body felt super-sensitized in a way that only anticipating Jack could make it.

Strange, she thought, that she felt so much better upon leaving home and reaching the French Quarter. Much of the Quarter was considered very dangerous after dark, yet she felt much safer here in Jack’s world than back in the Garden District of Todd’s. Most people would think she was crazy, but being in Jack’s little part of the universe made her feel at once content and adventurous; safe, yet in another way more willing to take risks. The thought—and her daring new dominatrix look—made her want to do something even riskier tonight, made her want to keep living life to the fullest with her hot, sexy lover.

Could anything be more intense than being in bed with two men at once? She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to try, both for herself, and also to reward Jack’s noble sweetness. He took such good care of her; she was going to take good care of him, in a different way, for as long as he wanted her to.

“What are you drinking, sweetheart?” She looked up to find the bartender, an attractive mid-thirties man with dark hair and a strong jawline. “The guys at the end of the bar want to buy you a drink.”

She glanced down to see several handsome suit and tie types. A couple of them smiled, one lifted a hand to wave. She smiled back, then returned her attention to the bartender. “I’ll have a hurricane, but I hope they won’t be too disappointed to find out I’m meeting my boyfriend here.”

My boyfriend. It had just come out. And it had felt wonderful to call Jack that.

The bartender offered a shrug and a grin. “Hey, you take your chances when you send a drink across the room.” After placing the tall red concoction in front of her a moment later, he moved to the end of the bar to fill the guys in on her “taken” status.

“Gettin’ started on the fun without me?” Jack asked, suddenly next to her. She looked up to find him wearing a teasing grin.

“I have admirers at the end of the bar,” she informed him coquettishly.

He glanced down to the suits, then back at her. “Can’t blame ‘em—look at you, chere.” He gave her a long once-over from head to toe. “Almost didn’t recognize you. You look…dangerous.”

She smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“If you’re askin’ me if I’m turned on, oh yeah. Those boots are killer and I already wanna feel ‘em wrapped around my back.”

When the bartender returned, Jack ordered a hurricane of his own. “So,” he went on, “are we into whips and chains tonight?”

She laughed, considering her answer. “I’m…not sure exactly what we’re into tonight, not yet. I’m hoping it will just sort of reveal itself to us—know what I mean?”

His grin was typically wicked. “What I know is that you’re gonna be fightin’ guys off tonight, so maybe we’d best stop somewhere and buy ourselves that whip anyway, darlin’. Then again,” he glanced down to her feet, “I suppose those heels could qualify as weapons on their own, huh?”

After they finished their drinks, they left the bar to roam Bourbon Street. Darkness was descending on the thoroughfare of sin and debauchery, another night coming to life in the French Quarter. As Jack had predicted, Liz garnered even more stares than usual. Going from merely “sexy” to “sexy and dangerous” was making her feel as alive as the night itself. She wouldn’t want this sort of attention every day or even every night of her life—she might not ever even want it again after tonight—but in this moment, each glance cast her way registered inside her, seeming to raise her temperature, making her cunt even more tingly and wanting.

Jack kept his arm around her as if to make sure every man on the street knew she was with him. And while it had been wildly thrilling to be shared with Ty the other night, it was equally as exciting to see Jack acting a little possessive.

As usual, the mood on the street was intoxicating and infectious. One didn’t have to venture into the sex shops and strip joints to feel their aura in the air, and as on past nights, the decadence that was Bourbon Street was seeping into Liz’s veins. As she and Jack passed by one sex club in particular, called the Pussycat’s Claw, she urged him to slow down so she could take a closer look. Beneath the neon signs touting the “Live Sex Show” was a display of photos. Like the club she and Lynda had stopped to look at during her “reconnaissance mission” to the Quarter before meeting Jack at Club Venus that first time, these pictures showed a wide mixture of people actually fucking on a stage. Most pictures showed a man and woman having sex in a variety of skimpy costumes and settings, but one showed three girls in the remains of harem costumes touching each other, and one photo featured a guy with two girls.

“Maybe this is it,” she said to Jack.

“Maybe this is what?”

“The exciting thing we’re going to do tonight.”

He smiled. “My hot petite fille, you never cease to amaze me.”

She fluttered her eyelashes, feeling playful. “I’d think by now you’d be getting used to my wild side.”

He gave a knowing nod. “Oh yes, indeed, darlin’, you’ve proven yourself to be one hell of a wild woman, and yet…” He looked thoughtful, a small smile gracing his face.

“And yet what?”

“Like I just said, you still amaze me. Every single time you do somethin’ new, I’m fuckin’ astonished. Because