The Art of Sin

by Alexandrea Weis

  After stepping inside, he hit a light switch to the left, bathing the room in a dull, yellow glow.

  Grady took in the four bare red-bricked walls, two wooden chairs, and a dressing table complete with one slightly cracked mirror. Above, a ceiling fan with three light bulbs behind an amber bowl illuminated the room.

  “It ain’t much, but what else do you guys need?” Matt Harrison told him with a raspy chuckle. “I ran women’s strip clubs for years. The demands they had for dressing room décor and furniture almost drove me as batty as their backstage catfights. You guys have been an absolute dream compared to the women.”

  Grady entered the room and caught sight of the bare hooks on the wall and the dust-covered dressing table. “I know some owners that wouldn’t agree with you.”

  Matt put his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. “The women out front are a big pain in the ass. The screaming and carrying on gets to me. With women strippers all the drama is backstage, but with the men the drama is in the pit.”

  “Wherever the women are, there goes the drama,” Grady professed.

  Matt shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Yeah, but such is the art of sin.”

  “The art of sin?”

  “Years ago, in a club I ran on Bourbon, a stripper named Mary Hightower called stripping the art of sin. She said, ‘Anybody can take off their clothes, but only a stripper could turn such a sin into an art.’” He shook his head. “So many guys I see going out on the stage just bump and grind, flash their washboard abs, and think it’s enough. In the old days, those women could have taught you boys a thing or two about the art.”

  “‘Illusion is the first of all pleasures,’” Grady mused.

  Matt furrowed his brow at him. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s a quote from Oscar Wilde.” Grady contemplated Matt’s uneven skin, the deep lines on his forehead, and the dark circles beneath his eyes. “How long have you been in this business, Matt?”

  “Thirty-four years. Got into it when I was nineteen, working as a bartender for a joint a few blocks down from here. Worked my way up through management, and opened my first club twenty-six years ago. Even met my wife in my club. She was a dancer, but quit when we got married.”

  Grady appreciated the warmth in Matt’s eyes when he spoke of his wife. “How long have you been married?”

  “Twelve years. I got a four-year-old son and a ten-year-old daughter. She’s just like her mother when it comes to wanting the best of everything.” He nodded to Grady. “You married?”

  He shook his head. “Divorced. No kids, but I’m still hopeful.”

  “At least you’re not gay. The gay guys in this business give me the creeps.”

  “Not a lot of them. The women figure it out, and they never last long on stage.”

  “I had to find that out the hard way with the French guy.” Matt removed his hands from his pockets and clapped them together. “You’ve got a good place to stay in the city? If not, I can recommend a few spots I know in the Quarter.”

  “Thanks, but I got a nice place a short walk from here.”

  Matt glimpsed the gold Rolex on his wrist. “Good. I’ve got you scheduled to start tomorrow night. First show is at eight, second at eleven. When we have private gigs, it’s a one-show night, but we don’t get those too often. We only do one show on Sunday at eight. You’ll be off on Mondays. If you need off for family, plastic surgery, or whatever else, try and give me a little notice so I can get someone to cover for you. Burt said you were real dependable.”

  “I don’t like to miss a show,” Grady admitted.

  Matt smiled, showing off a row of yellow teeth. “Good boy. Get here by seven to oil up for the eight o’clock show. What costumes you got?”

  “A black leather cowboy, tuxedo, and a flashy silver-sequined number.”

  Matt shook his head. “I’ve got enough cowboys in the show. Bring the tuxedo and that silver number. You can run those two for your routines.”

  Grady nodded. “Got it.”

  “I don’t have a lot of rules. Just be on time, sober, and no girls backstage,” Matt insisted. “I’ve got enough problems with the women out front. I don’t want them starting shit back here.”

  “I understand.”

  Matt stepped through the dressing room door and back into the hallway. “Why don’t you get out and enjoy a night in the French Quarter? Check out the sights before the club takes up all of your time. It’s a hell of a town.”

  “Thanks, I think I’ll do that.” Grady stepped back out into the hallway, and Matt shut the dressing room door behind him.

  “Looking forward to seeing your moves up on the stage. Burt said you really pack ‘em in.”

  “I hope I can do that for you, Matt.”

  “Just keep them drunk and wet,” Matt clucked. “That’s all I ask of my dancers.” He patted Grady on the shoulder with a long hand. “See you tomorrow night.”

  Matt Harrison strutted back toward the stage, pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he went.

  Grady waited until his new boss had walked out the stage door. He shook his head and then sped down the hallway, eager to get out of the club and mute the cheap and dirty feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

  Another sleazy club; another slimy owner.

  Once outside, Grady reveled in the sizzling lights of Bourbon Street. Everywhere he turned there were people along the seedy, smelly street, soaking up the heady atmosphere of music, drinking a plethora of alcoholic concoctions, and peeking into the open doors of the numerous strip clubs.

  At one of the clubs, that touted male dancers on its billboard, Grady saw bouncers the size of tree trunks luring female patrons inside. He was about to go in and check out the competition when he spied a couple walking by carrying paper cups adorned with the green Pat O’Brien’s logo. Stopping once to ask directions, Grady eventually found the green and white sign of Pat O’Brien’s hanging from beneath a balcony on St. Peter Street. He passed another muscular doorman and entered a red-bricked carriageway. The first open doorway he came to had a sign with Main Bar above it.

  After stepping inside, a rush of cigarette smoke and noise hit him. The stale, recirculated air reeked of beer and the faint hint of bleach. The dimly lit room was decorated with hundreds of beer steins hanging from the ceiling, champagne bottle wall lamps, and mirrored bar backs bordered with ornate ironwork. The room had a cozy feel, appearing more as a neighborhood bar than a tourist-driven destination. There was even an old-time jukebox belting out favorite tunes from decades gone by.

  As he made his way through the mass of people to the long bar, Grady kept an eye out for Doug. He quickly discovered his head of short-cropped black hair near the end of the bar. Dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and red bow tie, Doug was wiping glasses and chatting with a young blonde. When he saw Grady taking a stool in front of his station, he smiled, adding a touch of brightness to his dark features.

  “Hey, you came.” Doug held out his thick hand to Grady.

  “First night in New Orleans, I figured I better have a look at the famous Pat O’Brien’s,” Grady called back.

  Doug motioned to the blonde. “Cathy, this is Grady Paulson, he’s new in town.”

  The pretty blonde turned to Grady. Displaying a perfectly white smile, she had smooth, peach-colored skin, and dazzling green eyes. She was petite, but her arms appeared a little flabby in the white tank top she was wearing, and he thought her hips a bit wide for his taste. Still, he would consider her good enough to take to bed.

  “So what brings you to N’awlins, darlin’?” Cathy loudly drawled.

  Grady smiled at Doug, intrigued by her accent. “Cathy here is a local girl,” Doug explained with a playful look in his dark eyes. “She often comes to see me.”

  Grady nodded with understanding. “You two are friends?” he asked, waving his hand between Cathy and Doug.

  Doug vehemently shook his head. “She just visits me. Nothing else.”

 
“Yeah,” Cathy jumped in. “Doug’s already got himself a steady girl. I just come and flirt like hell with him, trying to lure him away from his woman.” She leered at Grady’s bulging arms and chest. “But now that you’re here ….” Cathy suggestively smiled.

  Doug snickered from behind the bar, entertained by Cathy’s blatant flirtation. “What can I get you, Grady?”

  Grady observed the other patrons sipping from tall, shapely glasses filled with the famous red drink. “What about a Hurricane?”

  Cathy held up the tall glass filled with the red beverage. “Good choice.”

  Doug stepped away to mix Grady’s drink, while Grady turned his attention to the blonde on the stool next to him.

  “So you’re a local girl.” He let his eyes linger on her tight white tank top.

  “Yeah, I can show you all the sights.” Cathy happily watched as his eyes hovered over her breasts. “What brings you to our fair city?”

  “Work. I’m here for the next four months.”

  “Doing what?”

  Grady paused as he thought of something she would like to hear. “I work in computers. Designing software programs for businesses. I’m going to be redoing the software for a local bank.”

  “Wow. Sounds like a really intense job.” Cathy’s green orbs ravenously swept over his open white button-down shirt and snug blue jeans. “How do you know Doug?”

  “He lives in the apartment house where I’m staying.”

  Cathy dipped her cleavage to Grady. “And where is that?”

  Grady smirked at her flirtatious manner. “It’s on Esplanade Avenue.”

  Doug returned, brandishing a tall glass filled with a deep red liquid and topped with a straw.

  “One Hurricane, on the house,” he announced, placing the glass on the bar. “You two getting along?” He flashed Grady a wicked grin.

  Cathy reached for her drink. “Your friend’s cute, Doug. Real cute.”

  “I think you have a fan, Grady,” Doug remarked.

  Grady lifted his drink, his eyes staying on Cathy. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  Cathy giggled and then took a sip from her Hurricane glass, but her hungry green eyes never left Grady’s face.

  Grady’s insides tingled with the prospect of a night naked next to the giggly girl.

  I think I’m really gonna like New Orleans.

  * * *

  An hour later, Grady was fumbling with the keys to the front door of his apartment when Cathy slipped her arms around his waist and nibbled on his earlobe.

  “Hurry up and get that door open, darlin’.”

  Grady made several unsuccessful attempts to get his key in the lock. “What in the hell is in that drink?”

  “Allow me,” Cathy offered, taking the keys from him.

  After a few seconds of struggling, she finally pushed the door open. When she stepped inside, she browsed the living room. “You don’t have much.”

  Grady yanked his keys from the lock. “Furnished apartment. I never pack my stuff and bring it with me. I travel way too much for that.”

  “Where’s your computer?” Cathy asked, glancing about the living room.

  Grady stared at her breasts and tossed his keys to the coffee table. “Bedroom.”

  Cathy came up to him and slid her arms about his neck. “I’d love to see your hard drive.”

  “My hard drive? You’re a bad girl.” He wrapped her in his arms while trying to maintain his balance.

  “I bet you like bad girls,” Cathy whispered in his ear. “Maybe you should punish me. Do you want to spank me?”

  Not another one of those, he inwardly groaned.

  “I have something else in mind,” he told her, lifting her into his arms.

  Grady wobbled a little. She was heavier than he thought, or it was the booze … he wasn’t sure. Cathy giggled and wiggled in his arms as he carried her into his bedroom.

  Grady deposited Cathy on the bed, and she immediately sat up on her knees and wrestled her tank top over her head. She was eager, he liked that.

  Kissing the nape of her neck, his fingers expertly unclasped her bra and tossed it to the floor. Grady had wanted to get his hands on her firm breasts all night. He delighted in the feel of them. When his thumbs flicked her nipples, those little pink nubs became erect.

  Grady always loved caressing a woman’s breasts, though he had to admit these were a handful. Unlike a lot of other guys, he wasn’t a fan of big boobs. He liked to take in the whole package with a woman, not just her tits.

  Cathy hungrily began undoing the buttons on his long-sleeved shirt. Her frenzied movements added to his desire. Grady just hoped her enthusiasm was a prelude of things to come.

  He raised his lips to her ear and whispered, “What do you like?”

  She pushed the shirt over his shoulders, her eyes scrutinizing his carved chest. Running her hands over his muscular shoulders and ripped abs, she raised her green eyes to him.

  “Do it real hard, don’t be gentle. You can even tie me up if you want.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he chuckled.

  She tugged at the zipper on his jeans. “Just don’t leave any bruises. My dad asks a lot of questions when he sees bruises.”

  Her dad? That was a buzz kill. He waited by the edge of the bed while she pushed his jeans and briefs down his hips. Cathy’s lips settled over his right nipple, and then she sank her teeth into him.

  Grady winced slightly at her exuberant bite. Then, her mouth started traveling down his chest and stomach until she lowered her mouth over his erection. When she began licking his tip, he eased his head back and his knees settled against the bed. Before long, Cathy had her mouth riding up and down his shaft.

  Christ, he loved it when a woman went down on him. Her wet mouth on his cock was better than her tits. He could feel the stirrings of an orgasm beginning. Wanting to hurry up and get inside of her, he raised her head off his cock and pushed her back on the bed.

  It took a good bit of tugging to get the tight jeans down her ample hips, and all the while Cathy kept giggling. Yeah, the giggling was starting to get to him.

  After he threw her pink underwear and jeans to the floor, he drank in her creamy white skin and shaved crotch. He dipped his fingers between her legs and felt her wetness.

  “You’re ready for me, baby, aren’t you?”

  Sitting up on her elbows, Cathy’s saucy green eyes confronted him. “You need to put on a condom. I got some in my purse.”

  The mood momentarily broken, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, hold on. They’re in my wallet.”

  Grady climbed off the bed. He retrieved his wallet from his jeans and pulled out two foil packs of condoms.

  Cathy flipped over on her stomach and then raised her hips in the air. “Fuck me from behind. Hard and fast.”

  Grady ripped open a condom package, watching the girl’s round, white ass gyrate in front of him. After carefully slipping on the condom, Grady kneeled behind her and stroked her wet folds.

  “Get ready for me,” he murmured, and spread her open with his fingers.

  He grunted when he entered her with one hard push. Her wet flesh molded around him. Shit, she was tight.

  Cathy moaned beneath him. “Come on, baby. Do it harder.”

  He pulled out of her and thrust into her even harder than before. This time Cathy’s body trembled.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” she squealed.

  Grady shook his head slightly, amused by the noises she was making. He pulled out and drove himself hard and fast into her once more. Cathy squealed again and Grady tried not to laugh.

  He had heard of squealers, but had never fucked one before. He had fucked screamers, moaners, and the kind that never said a word, but he had never heard sounds from a woman quite like this.

  As he began to ram into her with all of his might, Cathy’s squeals of pleasure soon reverberated throughout the bedroom. Grady was concerned the noise would travel up to the third floor and disturb his landlord
. As her squealing grew louder, Grady entertained the notion of putting his hand over the woman’s mouth, but then decided to hell with it; he would just hurry up and get her out of his apartment.

  Slamming his hips into her, he rubbed his fingers along her clit to get her to come faster. The squeals were getting louder, so he figured she must be close. As he felt his climax speedily surging forward, Cathy suddenly cried out for him to stop.

  Confused, Grady backed out of her and watched as the girl rolled over on her back. “Now do missionary,” Cathy ordered.

  Slightly perturbed by her sudden change in positions, and with his balls beginning to ache, he quickly draped her legs around his waist and was about to enter her when she breathlessly said, “Tie my hands.”

  She placed her hands above her head, but instead of tying them, Grady just held her hands in place. “Pretend they’re tied,” he grumbled, and quickly thrust into her.

  Soon Cathy was squealing with abandon, making Grady more determined to get her out of his apartment as soon as he could.

  With one unexpected yelp, Cathy began bucking beneath him. Her outburst scared Grady to death. He was about to give up on coming at all when Cathy locked her legs around him.

  “Come on, keep going, make me come again,” she shouted at him.

  Wondering when this night was going to end, Grady kept pounding into her and Cathy’s squeals of passion returned. With her second climax, Cathy screamed into his ear, almost bursting Grady’s eardrum.

  Fed up with her obnoxious noises, he held her hips in place and slammed into her until he finally came. After, Grady was panting for breath with Cathy’s chubby arms tightly clasped around his neck.

  “That was wonderful,” she praised and grabbed his ass, digging her long fingernails into his flesh.

  Wincing, he pulled away from her and rolled over to his side. Terrified that she might want to go again, Grady checked his watch while formulating a lie to get her to leave.

  “Where’s your car?”

  Cathy grabbed at him before he could stand from the bed. “How about another go?”