by Aidèe Jaimes
I ask if I can touch her because my hands want to do that, with her being on my lap and all.
U2’s Sleep Like a Baby Tonight comes on and Diamond begins her dance. She straddles me and runs her hands down my neck and over my chest. It doesn’t surprise me, I know they feel at liberty to touch too. She takes my hands and after kissing my fingers, uses them to pull down her bra and expose her breasts.
I don’t turn to Bo, but I can feel him squirming beside me and can hear him clearing his throat a few times.
Diamond leans into me and purrs in my ear, kissing my neck slowly as she comes back up. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t extremely aroused by this, especially so when she reaches down and rubs me between my legs.
But it’s just a small fantasy and not what I came to New Orleans for. The song is over and she is off my lap.
Bo pays her twenty-five dollars for her time, which she gladly accepts, then leans down to us smiling. “You all take your time getting back to your seats,” she says, nodding to his lap, then she leaves, her five inch heels clacking hard on the wood floor.
I look to Bo and see what she meant by taking our time. He shrugs. “What’d you expect, Darlin’? That was hot!”
There is a great mixture of amusement and aggravation doing battle inside me. Amusement wins out and I say laughing, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
We head back to our seats and enjoy several more drinks, along with a variety of dances. After a while much of that alcohol has passed and I have to use the bathroom. I am only gone a few minutes, but when I come back there is already a woman sitting on the arm rest of my chair talking with Bo.
“This is Sandy,” Bo says chagrinned. “She wants to dance for you.”
I look at her. She’s a pretty lady, sort of. Shorter than me even with heels, but fit, short dark hair. But she’s got to be at least fifty-five, almost the same age as my mother, which makes it extremely awkward. I sit and she settles on my lap. I really fight the urge to turn her away, instead letting her do her thing. I never liked Owen to pick the girls that danced for me, but I guess I didn’t mention that to Bo.
The song must have been some sort of remix, I don’t know. It seemed to last about ten minutes. Maybe even longer. An eternity.
When it’s finally over Sandy looks at me expectantly. I turn to Bo, who had been the one to acquire her in the first place, only to see that he’s too busy to pay. Diamond is finishing her own dance on his lap, her bare breasts jiggling and her round bottom pushing hard between his open legs. With Sandy in my face I’d been unable to see that Bo was having his own kind of fun.
What was at one point merely bothersome turns into downright jealousy. I shrug at the lady and pull out ten dollars from my purse, nearly pushing her off me.
It’s getting late. The sun set some hours ago and I am drunk, the Bay Breezes and margaritas have been strong and there have been many. Either that or I’m a lightweight. I’m not used to staying up past ten, so although everyone is just gearing up for the night, I am beginning to wind down fast. My lids, my arms and legs, everything, begin to feel tired, and I know things need to get rolling or I’ll end up falling asleep without any action.
For some unknown reason Diamond is still sitting on Bo’s lap, her skinny, long arms wrapped around his neck. She leans in and says something to him, while her eyes smugly look me over. He replies and she laughs, making my scalp prickle.
He seems happy enough, maybe more than I want him to be. Annoyance builds more and more inside of me with every second those two canoodle. When he finally looks my way, his eyes glassy, I say, “Should we leave now?”
He mouths, “What?”
“I said, should we leave now?” I repeat.
He shakes his head, “What?”
The music is too loud and he can’t hear me. I touch Diamond’s knee and when she moves towards me I practically yell in her ear, “Can you ask him if he’d like to leave?”
She tells him. He turns to me with a frown and shakes his head and my stomach sinks. The combination of being tired, having one too many, and still being on an emotional rollercoaster, makes it so that his rejection is simply intolerable. I am so thoroughly irritated that I don’t even think about the tab. I just grab my bag and start walking towards the entrance, not once looking back.
There is a thick knot forming at the back of my throat and when the bouncer opens the door for me and I see it’s pouring down rain I nearly choke on it. It’s not a pretty sight I make, running across the street, trying not to get run over by all the tourists that don’t care about the weather. My shoes become hazardous puddles within themselves making my walk/run awkward and terrifying at the same time. My dress soaks up every ounce of water possible from the streams on the street and the material clings to my legs quite heavily, tripping me not once, but twice. Fortunately, it’s close and I manage to get indoors without an outright fall.
Avoiding mirrors in this place in impossible as there are several antique ones hanging on the hall walls, though I do my best not to look. I can only imagine what I look like. This is confirmed the moment I enter my room and go straight to the bathroom and literally gasp at my reflection. The lush waves I’d managed to create are now a long stringy mess attached to my face, my smoky eyes nothing but an inky smudge down my cheeks.
With my back flat to the wall I let myself fall into a puddle of wet dress and self-pity. Not only do I look like a drowned cat, but I feel like I just got dumped. Bo didn’t want to come back with me. My mind tries desperately to find a reason for it. Maybe he thought he was just here as a companion. Maybe he misunderstood the whole thing.
No, he definitely knew what he was here for, I think we both made that clear.
What if, what I really didn’t want to think, he just didn’t find me attractive enough once he was around me, and then Diamond shows up with that dark skin and luscious lips. Maybe I didn’t measure up.
The music on Bourbon Street is so loud it’s barely hindered into my room by the brick walls and French doors. Goodness but they do party hard here. Everyone is out celebrating, enjoying life, the town. Each other.
With my arms around my knees, I let my shoulders slump and take a deep breath. Then there is a knock on my door. My head pops up and I stay very still, listening carefully in case I mistook the loud thuds of the music for a knock. Then there is a hard pounding against the wood and I spring up and peep through the hole to see Bo standing there. He doesn’t look too happy.
I open the door slowly and throw him a fake smile. He doesn’t care much for it, and pushes past me. I close the door and turn to him, a bit surprised at how aggravated he looks.
“You left,” he says reproachfully.
“You said you didn’t want to come,” I throw back at him.
“When the hell did I say that!”
“You shook your head when Diamond passed on my message.”
“Who’s Diamond?”
“The girl on your lap!” I huff in frustration.
“What? She said you wanted to leave and that you wanted me to stay. Next thing I know you’re flying out the door. I got up and tried running after you, but security stopped me and made me pay the tab and apologize to the girl for dumping her on the floor when I got up.”
“Oh… but I thought… you seemed like you were having a good time.”
“I was. With you. It was hot watching the girls dance on you. Then that one got on me and I kept tryin’ to get her off.”
“Really? You must have not tried very hard. She was on you like half an hour!”
“Actually it was about three minutes. Either way, it was your idea to go there. All I wanted was to bring you back here.”
“You did? I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to, you know, do stuff with me. I thought maybe you changed your mind.”
“Are you fucking kidding me! The moment you stepped foot on that plane I wanted to take you to the bathroom and fuck you. At Lionel’s apartment, all I kept thinkin’ was how ea
sy it would be and there’s a bed right there.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“He’d made it clear no sex at his place, and I knew once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. Not to mention that you’d talked about everything you wanted to see while you were here. Fuck, all day has been a test of my will power being so close and not touching you. Half the time I thought I was going to explode if I didn’t get you into the nearest alley, anywhere, to be alone with you.”
Oh my. My mouth is going dry. “Well, we’re alone now. In my room. Sex is allowed here.”
His eyes are intense as my words seem to sink in, and in an instant, he is on me. The impact of his lips on mine is nothing less than atomic. I open my mouth wide and breathe deeper, desperate to take him in; I need more of his scent, to taste him better. He moans hard and pushes me against the wall, pressing himself against me and lifting me up so that we are at the same level. I wrap my legs around his waist and rub myself hard on the bulge in his pants.
I have no control over my body, my hands, pulling at his hair, moving his head to my neck and further down to my breasts. His hands are everywhere at once, on my back, on the crack of my butt and in between my legs. I bite his neck when his fingers slide past wet panties and deep inside of me.
“Shit, you’re so wet,” he moans into my hair. His hands are pulling the soaked fabric of my dress down along with my bra strap and his lips are on my nipples. It’s a wild thing when he takes me from the wall and throws me onto the bed, his mouth never leaving my body.
He tugs like a madman at my panties, somehow getting them off, then onto his pants. But I don’t have the physical capability of waiting any longer. As soon as the clothes have cleared his butt and he springs free I pull him in.
It’s not the length of him that does it, though he definitely has an advantage there. It’s the girth.
“Oh my god!” I cry out. It takes him a few tries before he can fully insert himself into my body and the feeling is so intensely delicious, tears stream from my eyes and I shut them tight. I am panting, meeting his thrusts, feeling a white-hot inferno overtake me.
He feels it too, I am sure of it. He pounds into me furiously, hands on my wrists tight and painful. He’s as crazed in this as I am, and my orgasm hits me fast and fierce and I am glad for the loud zydeco/hip-hop/pop playing outside my window because I can’t help the cries that come out of me. And I know he’s there with me when he roars and stiffens and then falls onto me, his face on my chest wet from rain and sweat.
My heart is pounding, my breathing ragged. I can’t move. He is still inside, still hard as steel and twitches every now and then. He is heavy on me, his dark hair tickling my chin. His breathing finally begins to even out as mine does. When he eventually lifts his face to mine, he gives me a gentle kiss on the chin and shakes his head.
“Sorry about that, I wanted to take my time, to blow your mind the first time we did it. I didn’t mean to be so… sloppy.”
“I didn’t think it was sloppy,” I laugh. Superb, all-consuming, passionate, are words I would use to describe the experience.
“Jesus, my pants are still wrapped around my ankles!” He gets up clumsily, leaving me lying in a puddle. I glance down at myself and can see why he called us sloppy. My dress is a wrinkled wet mess that is clinging to my stomach and arms. My bra pulled down over my chest, nipples hard and fully displayed, as is my crotch. He looks there and I quickly close my legs. He raises a thick brow and licks his lips. “I guess you’re right, sloppy is a bad word for it. Maybe frantic is better. We just waited too long and I wanted you too much. Come,” he says reaching out to me.
“Where are we going?” I take his hand and he pulls me up.
“To the shower. I want to do it right this time.”
One of my favorite and certainly unexpected things about the bathroom at Maison Bordeaux is the bathroom. In contrast with the 1800s décor of the guesthouse, this bathroom is positively modern. Large polished marble tiles line the walls of the bath, with small black and brown glass tiles used throughout as accent. The floating sink boasts two basins into which water pours from little holes in the backsplash. The shower, a large room itself, is fully enclosed and doubles as a steam room with two showerheads. The first and largest is a rainfall tile affixed to the ceiling. The second is a seven-dial hose nozzle. We use both.
A fully naked Bo turns them on, then walks to the control panel and turns on the steam as well. An orange light comes on to show that the level is on low, though watching him move, the muscles on his back flexing, as does his buttock, I think we’ll be making enough steam on our own.
After turning off all the lights but the overhead, which has just a soft yellow glow, he turns to me. “All right my lady, now let’s get you ready.” He pulls off my dress over my head and throws it to the corner, followed by my bra.
He doesn’t give me time to be shy, pulling me gently into the shower. The water feels hot on my cold skin, but that is forgotten all too soon as he pulls me into his arms and lowers his lips to mine.
The moment our mouths meet the heat rises and he is pressing me hard and rough against wall, the cold tile a momentary shock. Not enough to stop me though. I am so hungry for him I will take as much as he’ll give.
Suddenly he pulls away, breathless.
“God, I want to take my time but I feel like I can’t hold back with you.”
I pull him back in and whisper in his ear, “Then don’t,” and wrap my fingers around his thick shaft. “Fuck me, Bo.” He grumbles something I can’t hear before he spins me on the spot, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. I lift my butt, standing on my tiptoes, to aid his entry. His head drops to my shoulder and he begins to thrust. His free hand is roaming my body, fingers grazing my nipples, then roving down between my legs and circling and pressing on my clitoris.
It’s definitely not a gentle fuck. It’s demanding and needful. The steam is getting to me; the air is too thick and too hot. Bo is too hot. But I can’t stop any more than he can. I can feel his desire when he bites the back of my neck. It drives me to the edge and I come so blindingly hard I nearly black out. But he holds me in place and pulls out just in time to finish on my back.
He lets me go and goes to turn off the steam. When he returns, I have my forehead to the wall, enjoying the feel of the rain on my back.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“We didn’t use a condom,” I whisper.
His face goes white. “I didn’t even remember that. They’re in my wallet. I was just so crazed I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say though I’m really not. He felt too good, bare the way he was.
“Guess it’s a good thing we both got tested. You okay?”
“Yeah, it just got hot in here.”
“Here, this will help.” He takes the nozzle hose and sets it at jet and runs it slowly up and down my back.
I let my mind wonder and I think of Owen. It’s not particularly a welcome thing being that I am in the shower, naked with another man. But I can’t help it.
I am with another man. And Owen is at home well aware of what I’m up to. The guilt of it is brutal. Then again, he did this to me. And I wonder, did he think of me like this when he was with Cassandra? While I stayed home, the dutiful wife, playing with his child, cleaning his house, waiting anxiously for him to return? Did he think of how much he would hurt me?
No, he didn’t. That much I am certain of. I am also sure he never in a million years thought I would have done the same back to him, that I would find myself here with another man. Thinking of him. Now that makes me feel like a slut. He feels present, too much a part of this.
My mind takes me somewhere new now. Imagining that, Owen here with me and Bo. A Cris sandwich. Four hands all over me, two very hard and passionate men. Wouldn’t that be something?
“What are you thinking about?” Bo asks startling me.
“Nothing good.”
“Tell me,�
�� he urges.
“Is it always like this for you, this intense, I mean?” I ask.
“You mean sex?”
“Yeah.” I turn to face him and he begins to run the nozzle on my chest. I am thankful for the dimness of the lights, being as exposed as I am.
“I can’t think of a time where I wanted someone so much I couldn’t hold back. You?”
He moves the nozzle downward slowly, until he reaches my crotch, at which point he switches it to a pulse. I can already feel my temperature rising.
“I don’t know,” I say breathlessly. It’s true. I am a generally passionate woman and I like sex to be rough. Owen understands this, and he gives me what I want. But I have never felt this out of control and mindless. “No,” I say, correcting myself. Is that a bad thing? I don’t know that either, but it’s terrifying as hell.
Then the fear melts away when the nozzle makes a loud clang as it hits the floor and he kisses me. No pretense at taking it slow. It’s aggressive from the start and that fire that had barely ebbed is ignited anew. I let go of any thoughts of restraint because there is no room for it right now. It’s just impossible.
“Let’s go to the bed. I want to taste you,” he murmurs in my ear. His hands grope my butt and then his fingers slide in and gently play with my vagina and then my anus. “I’m want to fuck you everywhere. Please let me fuck you everywhere.”
Oh my God, I am going up in flames. I want to yell, “Put me out dammit!” but can’t speak through my moans. He picks me up and takes us out of the bath and into the room, completely uninterested in stopping to towel dry. He drops me onto the bed and drops his head to my sex and takes the lips into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the soft skin there.
He moves his way from side to side, making sure to avoid my clitoris, each time my pelvis coming off the bed in an attempt to rub myself on him. He pins my hips and keeps teasing, nibbling on my inner thighs, tasting my entrance but never touching the tip of what is aching me the most.