FrenchQuarter.htm

by Lacey Alexander

  Although Liz and Lynda had little in common, they had become fast friends. In fact, Lynda was the only person Liz had chosen to share her suspicions with. Now, they were meeting in order to…initiate Liz into the wild nightlife of Bourbon Street. Liz had never even ventured toward the red light district since moving to the Big Easy, and even as the newly-awakened wild side of her was almost itching to see what went on in a strip club while at Jack Wade’s side, she needed a pep talk from Lynda; she needed to know what to expect.

  “So,” Lynda said, locking up her shop and tossing her waist-length blonde hair over her shoulder to look up at Liz, “that Jack’s a hottie, isn’t he?”

  Had Lynda read her mind? Liz couldn’t help letting out a small giggle. “Very hot, as a matter of fact. Which you might have mentioned to me, by the way.”

  Lynda flashed a mischievous grin. “I thought you’d enjoy the surprise. And I bet he enjoyed your sexy little outfit.”

  Liz felt heat color her cheeks, but decided not to lie. Lynda had never liked Todd anyway, and she especially didn’t like him now, so Liz didn’t mind letting her friend know she’d flirted with another man. “Well, if the way he looked at me was any indication, yes, he did.”

  “Don’t those dark, penetrating eyes just go all through you? And don’t those little bits of Cajun he peppers his speech with just make you wet? Doesn’t everything about him just make you want to hold him down and have your way with him?”

  “Well…” she began, uncertain exactly how much she wanted to confide in Lynda, “I suppose that…”

  Lynda laughed. “Oh come on, Liz, quit trying to keep secrets. You wanted to fuck his brains out right there on the desk, I know you did. I did, too, the moment I met him. So just tell me.”

  Liz couldn’t help laughing, too, and finally said, “Okay, I admit it—I’ve never met a man so…fuckable.” Dear God, where had that come from? Certainly not from her usual vocabulary. Must be Lynda’s influence on her, she decided.

  As they strolled up the cracked, broken sidewalk of the French Quarter toward Bourbon, Liz was struck once more by how unusual her reaction to him was. Remembering the way she’d felt as soon as he’d laid eyes on her was nearly enough to make her cream her silk undies again. Now that she took the time to thoroughly recall that first meeting in his office, she’d had the same sensual reaction to his blonde friend, too, instantly thinking sexual thoughts, wishing for a physical connection—although her attraction to his friend seemed somehow linked to her desire for Jack in a way she could scarcely understand. She’d never experienced such emotions—it had been almost as if she’d become another person.

  “In fact,” she added, deciding—oh, what the hell, why not just be totally honest? “part of me is almost tempted to…”

  Next to her, Lynda smiled. “Good. You should.”

  “Well,” Liz reminded her, “I’m still technically engaged to Todd.”

  Lynda shrugged. “Whether he’s banging some high society chick in the back of her Rolls Royce or paying strippers to wiggle around in his lap, we both know he’s doing something he shouldn’t be, and we both know that once you find out exactly what it is, you’re going to dump him. In the meantime, I say all bets are off. If you want to let Jack Wade into your panties, go for it.”

  Liz cast her friend a skeptical look. “If you haven’t figured it out already, Lynda, I haven’t exactly had a lot of wild affairs. A few relationships where sex was involved, sure, but…”

  “Doesn’t matter. All you have to do is follow your urges, honey. It’s all good. And if you find out that creep is cheating on you or paying for simulated sex with strippers, you definitely need to let go, let loose, and live it up. Lose all your inhibitions.”

  Liz wished she were as bold as Lynda. She knew from late night talks over bottles of wine that since Lynda’s divorce ten years ago, she’d taken the very advice she was now giving Liz—she’d sought out wild times, wild sex. She’d been with another woman on more than one occasion, she’d told Liz, and she’d even once taken part in an orgy. Each time she’d told Liz one of these stories, Liz had secretly shivered with excitement, wondering what it was like to be that daring.

  And Lynda’s lack of inhibitions was the exact reason Liz had known Lynda could help her with sexy clothes when she’d wanted to look good to go hire a P.I., and why she knew now that Lynda was the perfect person to fill her in on Bourbon Street’s sin dens.

  Together, they perused the clubs that lined the street. It was broad daylight and many of them weren’t yet open for business, but some had pictures in glass cases outside their doors. The cases displayed photos of naked girls—some had shots of girls kissing and touching each other, and one smallish building even exhibited numerous pictures of a man and woman actually having sex. “They really do that in there, on a stage?” Liz asked, a little taken aback.

  Lynda smiled at her naïveté. “There’s not much they don’t do down here in N’awlins, honey.”

  When they reached Club Venus, Lynda said, “You’ll be fine here. It’s one of the more sophisticated establishments, basically just a classy strip joint. Pretty girls taking their clothes off for tips, that’s basically all you get in here. Well, and lap dances, of course.”

  “Of course,” Liz said, remembering Jack’s pictures.

  Linda tilted her head. “So, what if you go and Todd isn’t there?”

  “Simple. I’ll tell Jack to go back to the drawing board.”

  “And what if Todd is there? Will you confront him, run out crying, throw a drink on him, what?”

  Liz considered the options. “To be honest, I don’t really know. I guess I’ll find out when the time comes.” The truth was, she was still thinking more about watching erotic dancers with Jack Wade than about her anger at Todd, and before she knew it, the moment would be at hand.

  * * * * *

  The following evening at nine sharp, Jack strolled up Bourbon Street wearing a pair of khakis and a sports jacket. He spotted Liz Marsh from a distance. She stood outside the Blue Moon Cafe looking hotter than the Vieux Carre itself on a ninety-eight degree day. Her dress was the color of warm cream, silky, and it hugged every curve from her breasts to her knee. Like yesterday, her hair fell in tawny waves around her face. And damn, she wore high-heeled, fuck-me-now shoes like the ones he’d noticed on the sexy, dark-haired stripper the other night.

  “You’re actually going to Club Venus with that hot babe from the other day?” Ty had asked when he’d happened into the office earlier and they’d discussed their plans for the evening.

  “It’s business,” Jack had replied.

  “I’d like to have that kind of business,” his friend had laughed, and had gone on to tell him that if he decided he didn’t want Liz that he could pass her right over. He chuckled now at the thought, thinking—no way, bon ami, she’s all mine.

  Not that he had any idea where things with Liz would go. As sexy and inviting as she was, when the shit hit the fan with her boyfriend, she might be too shattered to even think about fooling around with another guy. And Jack was no mender of hearts. He was looking to have a good time with her, not dry her tears. Either way, though, he was beginning to think Liz wasn’t all that madly in love with old Todd and that maybe he had a very good shot at getting to know her better.

  He approached her with half a grin. “Hello there.”

  She returned the smile with the same sultry look she always seemed to cast his way. It made him forget about business a little more. “Hi,” she said, a sexy lilt in her voice.

  Part of him wanted to ask if she even cared about her fiancé, since from where he stood, she looked very ready to have some fun with him, but instead he decided to just see where it all led. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  They walked together toward Club Venus, but he warned her to be on guard—if either of them were to see Todd on the street, they’d need to duck out of view quickly.

  That didn’t happen, though, and they were soon
stepping inside. “Enjoy,” the doorman said after taking Jack’s money, and Jack placed a hand at the small of Liz’s back to guide her into the plush room of sin.

  The place was more crowded than the other night, because it was later in the evening, and while he watched Liz looking around, focusing on the various stages where the women danced, he slipped a college-aged kid fifty bucks to give up the table he shared with two other guys. It was the same small booth in the back where he’d sat the other night, more secluded than tables closer to the various stages.

  He took Liz’s hand, motioning her toward the small semi-circular booth.

  “Like a drink?”

  She drew her eyes from the main stage where a buxom blonde had stripped down to a Stetson and chaps, breasts bouncing as she danced, then lifted her pretty gaze to him. Damn, he wanted her—right here, right now. Maybe bringing her here wasn’t a smart idea. He’d intended to keep his pants zipped—at least until the case was finished, until he’d proven to her what she wanted to know about her fiancé—but at the moment, he wasn’t sure he could stick to his own rule.

  “A screwdriver,” she said. “Tell them to make it strong.”

  He grinned. “Gotcha.”

  As Jack ordered their drinks from a gorgeous young girl in a tiny bikini, Liz kept watching the dancers. She knew she should be looking for Todd, or maybe a guy who looked something like Todd but wasn’t him, yet she couldn’t pull her eyes from the lush flesh being paraded all around her in the room. She’d felt herself surge with moisture upon first seeing Jack and now she felt it even more; her mound pulsed with heat as she watched the women play with their breasts, teasing the audience by wiggling their g-strings. Her own breasts felt large and achy, and when she dared glance down at herself in the semi-lit room, she saw her nipples jutting out, even through the bra beneath her dress. Of course, the dress was Lynda’s, and that meant it was a little snug over Liz’s bigger chest, and feeling the fabric stretch to hold her in only added to her arousal.

  She and Jack didn’t speak much. He paid for both their drinks, asked her if she needed anything else. Sex, she thought. I need you inside me so bad. But she didn’t say that, of course. She just kept watching the girls wriggle and sway and gyrate and tease, watched the breasts and legs and asses parade past her, let herself get drunk on the raw sensuality filling her senses. Before long, her eyes were drawn away from the stage—to darker corners where nearly naked girls danced in men’s laps, jiggled their chests before their eyes, rubbed themselves while the guys watched, while she watched. The entire room was dripping with undiluted, unrefined sex.

  “Chere,” Jack said.

  She looked up at him, let herself get lost in his eyes and felt her whole body melting, wanting to be touched by him, wanting to dance in his lap.

  “You might want to brace yourself,” he told her.

  She blinked, the words stopping a little of her sensuous melt.

  “I see Todd,” he said near her ear. “Over by the bar, along the wall.”

  Liz looked. She instantly saw Todd, too. A busty blonde, a’la Pamela Anderson, hovered over him. She tweaked her nipples and licked her lips while she swayed in liquid rhythm to the music. Todd watched her, looking intoxicated with lust.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” Jack asked.

  She nodded, still watching.

  “I’m sorry, chere.”

  “No, don’t be. I’m glad I know.” Still, she focused on the scene across the room, trying to absorb it. She really was surprised Jack had been right—really hadn’t believed this could be Todd’s indulgence of choice.

  “I know this must hurt,” Jack said. He slid one strong arm around her, gently caressing her bare shoulder.

  “No, actually, it doesn’t.” The words were as surprising to her as they probably were to Jack. She knew she didn’t love Todd, probably never had, but she’d still expected seeing him in the act—of cheating, of having a naked woman in his lap, whatever—to inflict some pain. Humiliation. The same embarrassment that had had her dressing sexy to go hire a P.I., the embarrassment of knowing for sure she wasn’t enough for him. But that wasn’t what she felt.

  “Really? You’re okay?”

  She drew her eyes from Todd and the blonde to look at Jack. God, he was hot—he hadn’t shaved today, and those dark eyes of his were suddenly so kind, so tender. He actually cared how she felt.

  “It’s…almost a relief,” she told him. “It means…I’m not tied to him anymore. I have no reason to be loyal to him…to feel any guilt if I …” Her voice trailed off, but their gazes stayed locked.

  It took a moment before he spoke. “What do you want to do now? Confront him? Leave?”

  Practically the same question Lynda had posed, and the answer was one Liz couldn’t have predicted. “No,” she said softly. “I think I want to stay a while.”

  Jack looked intrigued. “Why?”

  Her breath turned thready. “I want to see more, want to know what it’s all about. If Todd can do this, so can I.”

  He tilted his head. “You’re not…tryin’ to condone his behavior, are you? Somehow hopin’ you’ll decide it’s all right? Because it’s not. Once you commit to a woman, you don’t lie to her, and you especially don’t lie to her about havin’ naked chicks bounce around on your lap.”

  She gave him a thoughtful look, fascinated. “Why, Jack, I’m surprised. You hadn’t struck me as such a…moral guy.”

  A wicked grin crept across his face. “Don’t be too impressed by my morals, chere. I’m as much an alley cat as the next guy.” The grin faded back to seriousness. “But I’m not married or in a relationship, and that’s what makes it different. If I was in a relationship, I’d be honest, about anything and everything.”

  “So if, say, you and I were in a relationship, and you wanted to come here and get a lap dance, you’d ask for my permission?” The passion in her veins was on the verge of turning her playful, despite or maybe because of Todd. She was free now, free to do whatever she wanted, to let go of her inhibitions like Lynda had advised.

  “Absolutely,” he said, an air of teasing in his voice.

  “And if I said yes?”

  His voice went low, smoky. “I’d ask you to come and watch.”

  “And if I said no?”

  He leaned slightly closer. “I’d ask you to give me one instead.”

  She cast a sexy smile. “What time is it?”

  He checked his watch. “Almost ten. Why?”

  “It’s almost time for Todd to leave. He’s always home before eleven.”

  Jack straightened slightly. “And you need to be home before he gets there?”

  She shook her head. “No, I just need him to be gone from here, out of my sight, off my radar screen. As for getting home before him—I’m happy to let him wonder where I am for a change.”

  He smiled back, clearly liking her tactics, then sobered. “So, you and this guy—you love him?”

  She shook her head. “I thought I did, but that faded. Since then, our engagement has felt almost like an obligation—there’s family involved, joint business ventures, you name it. To them, not loving him wouldn’t have been enough. I needed a reason, hard evidence, and now I have it because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

  “Good,” he said. “You deserve somebody who can keep you happy.”

  Her heart warmed a little at the words.

  Then, as if almost on cue, the big-breasted blonde extracted herself from Todd’s lap across the room, and he stood up. Liz and Jack both watched. Wearing a lecherous grin, Todd gave the girl some money, whispered something near her ear, and started toward the door. For Liz, it felt like being released from jail. Not only did she owe him nothing now, but he was no longer here to watch her if she wanted to play.

  “Tell me about a lap dance,” she said to Jack. Suddenly, she no longer cared if she didn’t appear experienced. Perhaps, she thought, because she also suddenly wanted to change all that, wanted to get experienced. />
  “What do you want to know?”

  “How much does it cost? How does it work? Is there touching involved?”

  He looked taken aback, aroused, before explaining. “You have to ask the stripper how much it costs—usually twenty dollars or so. You pay the girl, then she straddles you and dances. You can’t touch, but she can touch you. They generally don’t, but they can.”

  Jack pointed to a nearby table where a young guy was getting a lap dance from a pretty girl with round, sexy breasts and long brown hair—she looked particularly impassioned by her work.

  Together, she and Jack watched and Liz could have sworn her body temperature was steadily rising. The gorgeous stripper leaned down over the guy, teasing him, her beaded pink nipples so close to his mouth that Liz wondered how he kept himself from nibbling on them. The stripper’s hips ground into the guy’s crotch, making the spot between Liz’s thighs tingle hotly.

  “Have you had them before?” she asked, still studying the intimate act.

  Jack stopped watching the lap dance to look at her. She pulled her gaze from the stripper and met his eyes. “Yeah,” he said on a heated breath. “Why?”

  “Just curious.” She took a sip of her drink and looked back at him, feeling daring, wanting—for once in her life—to just do something she felt like doing without weighing it, questioning it, or worrying about it. “Do women ever get them?”

  His gaze remained steady. “I’ve seen women get ‘em on occasion.”

  “I want one,” she said, her voice low.

  She could tell she’d surprised him once more; herself, too.

  “Really?”

  She nodded. Before now, she’d never desired another woman, but sitting here watching them had excited her, made her wonder what it felt like to touch or be touched by another girl, as Lynda had. Of course, Jack had just told her she couldn’t touch them, but she simply wanted to do as Lynda had suggested and follow her urges, and her urge at the moment was to have a woman’s curves hovering over and around her. More than that, her urge was to have Jack watch.