Mardi Gras

by Lacey Alexander

  “It’s whichever you want it to be,” she purred, pulling him down for a soft tongue kiss. “Now, you tell me something.”

  “Anything,” he said, attempting to prove a point. “Unlike you, I’m an open book.” She ignored the sarcasm and asked, “Ever been fucked in the ass before, naughty boy?”

  He grinned. Now that it was over, he couldn’t quite believe that had happened or that he’d enjoyed it so much. “Um, no.”

  “So I took your virginity,” she said on a light, sophisticated laugh.

  He chuckled along with her. “I wasn’t aware I had any virginity left to take, but…uh, yeah, maybe you did. Just like I took yours in the same place.” 82

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  They shared a deliciously mischievous smile.

  “What’s next for us, Miss Mina?”

  “Next?”

  He nodded. “Next tonight? Next, the next time I see you?” Her smile faded. “I’m afraid we’ll have to stick to the ‘ I’ll call you’ plan, like before.” A horrible thought struck him. “Are you married or something?” She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

  “Then why so secretive? You obviously enjoy my company enough to come back for more. Why won’t you give me your number, give this thing a chance?”

  “This thing?”

  He motioned back and forth between them. “Me and you.” She bit her lip, looking pensive, and it forced him to recognize the leap in thought he’d made—a leap for which he was usually on the receiving end. He’d never been on this side before—the side that wanted it to be more than just an affair.

  “Wait, you don’t have to say it,” he told her, pulling back slightly.

  “Say what?”

  “That this is just sex. We’re not dating, not seeing each other, this is fucking and that’s all.”

  She turned away from him then, which he thought odd—since he couldn’t see her face anyway.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It can’t be any more than that. I can’t explain why, but it simply can’t.”

  Ty sat up. His heart physically hurt in his chest, but he told himself he was still just recovering from so much kinky sex. He had not gotten emotionally involved with his masked dominatrix. He refused to even consider that as a possibility. Even as much as he wished she hadn’t closed back up on him emotionally just now, even as much as 83

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  he’d liked finding out she had a soft side when she’d agreed to submit to him a little.

  Taking a deep breath, he rose from the couch and went to retrieve his clothes across the room.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see her sitting up, as well. “Yeah. I mean, if it can only be sex, well…the sex is over for tonight, right?” She nodded. And he got dressed, realizing he wanted to leave now. Even if he sort of hated leaving, too. But the damnable truth was—if it couldn’t be anymore than just this, just the fucking part, he didn’t want it.

  He couldn’t believe he didn’t want it, could barely fathom that the great sex she’d shared with him wasn’t enough for him, but he also couldn’t fight whatever was going on inside him—and the fact was, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he had gotten emotionally involved.

  He walked to the door without looking back, feeling angry, even if a part of him knew that was stupid. God knew they’d never made each other any promises, and they’d never even had any reason to—it had been two nights of hot sex, plain and simple. Maybe he was angry at himself—for wanting more. Wanting to see her face so damn badly. His chest felt tight, achy.

  Her clicking heels approached hurriedly behind him, but he didn’t look back until she grabbed onto his wrist.

  “Not even a goodbye?” she asked.

  Their gazes met, held. Then he placed his hand on the back of her head amid all those wild red curls and kissed her lush lips, one last time. “Goodbye, Mina.” He walked out the door, hailed the first taxi he saw, and headed for home, feeling empty inside for reasons he couldn’t quite understand.

  * * * * *

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  Mia sat alone in her apartment the next day, flipping through channels, watching nothing, hating everything about Mardi Gras and wishing it would end. Wishing lots of things. Like that she’d never concocted the insane idea to put on a mask and seduce Ty.

  Although tears rose behind her eyes at the thought, because how could she regret the wild intimacy they’d shared, at once so new and yet so comfortable? She didn’t think she could have done those things with anyone else.

  God, she’d thought she could do this—take this for what it was, hot sex. She’d thought it would fill a physical need, bring the fantasy to life, and maybe then she could move on, get Ty out of her mind.

  Instead, though, just the opposite had happened.

  She had no choice but to recognize the devastating truth—she was in love with him.

  * * * * *

  “Morning, sweet thing,” Ty said on Monday as he walked into the messenger service, the plate glass door falling shut behind him.

  “Morning, Ty,” she said without looking up, pretending she was immersed in paperwork.

  “Any messages?” he called from his office.

  “Bobby’s going to be—”

  “Fired,” he said before she could finish. “When he gets here, send him in to see me.

  And start looking through applications for a replacement.” Wow, he sounded like he was in a bad mood. Was it because of Mistress Mina? Was it possible he’d taken their time together that seriously?

  Against her better judgment, she got up and walked to his doorway. “Listen,” she said softly, “I know it’s none of my business who you fire, but…Bobby’s actually sick today. Really sick. He threw up while we were on the phone and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he couldn’t fake that.”

  Ty shrugged. “A hangover during Mardi Gras isn’t a good excuse.” 85

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  Oh. Stupidly, perhaps, she hadn’t thought of that—given that she was trying to forget Mardi Gras existed.

  “Besides, even if he had the Russian flu, it’s one time too many. I’ve got a business to run and I need dependable employees—like you.”

  She swallowed nervously, thinking her usual— If you only knew.

  “Um, how was your weekend?” she dared ask.

  “Shitty, thanks.”

  “Why? I…I thought you had a date with your hot chick from last week.”

  “I did. It didn’t end well. End of story.”

  She nodded, still a little amazed that the things he’d indulged in with Mistress Mina had mattered to him so much.

  “How was your weekend? Better than mine, I hope. Did you see your new tattoo-free guy?”

  She nodded.

  “And?”

  “And…that didn’t go so well, either. I…don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.” She hurried to add, “I mean, at least not…romantically.” He tilted his head, his expression softening. “Sorry it didn’t work out, sweet thing.” Her heart wilted a little in her chest. “Yeah, I’m sorry yours didn’t go better, too.”

  * * * * *

  Fat Tuesday. The last day of Mardi Gras. The night of the biggest blowouts, the most wild debauchery, the most hedonistic revelry. Ty sat in his apartment, the first floor of a grand old house on Esplanade, at the edge of the Quarter, watching the daily Mardi Gras report on the evening news. Picking up his fork, he dug into the reheated red beans and rice Liz had sent home with him after he’d had dinner at their place over the weekend.

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  I should go out and take part in that, he told himself, watching a bunch of beaded and masked people screaming for the TV camera.

  I should go down to Club Venus and get a lap dance or five and see if Mina turns up straddling my crotch at any point. But he doubted she would.

  No, I
should just get drunk, hang out on the street, and give beads to girls all-too-willing to jiggle their bare breasts for me, then maybe get laid by one of them.

  Or maybe I should walk into a store, buy a mask of my own, and pick up girls that way.

  Only problem was—none of it sounded any fun. Not the least bit titillating or desirable. Shit, this Mistress Mina thing had hit him hard, harder than he could easily understand. He barely knew her. Why had he cared so much? Why had he wanted so much more of her?

  Finishing his dinner, he stuffed his wallet in his pocket, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door, without even knowing where he intended to go.

  He set out walking, glad the night was clear and warm—sorry each time he happened upon a group of early revelers getting amped up for the last big party of this year’s festivities. He wanted…he wanted…

  Something that felt…safe. Normal. Good.

  He wanted to go someplace where he knew there were no worries, where things were easy, comfortable. He could only think of two places that really qualified—Jack and Liz’s place, or Mia’s. He chose Mia, thinking maybe she was lonely, too, given her romantic failure of the weekend just past.

  And the closer he got to her apartment, the more right it seemed to hang out with her tonight. Maybe they could just talk, pour their hearts out to each other over a bottle of wine or something. Maybe he’d been foolish all this time—thinking sex was more important than a woman’s personality. Maybe he should try thinking of Mia as more than a friend and see what came of it.

  He stopped into a liquor store on the way, grabbing a chilled bottle of Chablis, remembering it was Mia’s wine of choice.

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  Reaching her building, he let himself through the gate that led to the courtyard, walked past the pleasant little fountain that gurgled there, then headed up the neatly whitewashed stairs and down the veranda until he knocked on her door.

  She opened it wearing denim shorts, a cute fitted pullover of pale yellow, and a surprised look. “Ty—what’s up?”

  Only then did it occur to him to feel slightly sheepish. But he decided to be frank.

  “It’s Fat Tuesday and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to spend it partying. I just want to hang out with a friend, drink some wine or something.” He held up the bottle.

  “You up for it?”

  She blinked. Looked confused. He started to regret coming. Maybe she was busy.

  Or maybe he seemed desperate.

  But then she smiled. “Sure. Yeah. Come in.” She stood back to offer him entry.

  He hesitated slightly. “You didn’t have any big plans for the evening, did you?”

  “Me? No. I’m not…you know…much of a partier.”

  “Except with tattooed guys,” he said with a grin.

  She laughed. “Yeah, except for them.” Before closing the door, she glanced down toward the courtyard, which was quiet and empty, other than some Zydeco music coming from someone’s window, loud enough at the moment to override the sounds of Mardi Gras on the streets beyond. “Hey, do you want to sit outside and drink? It’s nice out—warm.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.”

  “Let me grab some glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen. And I have a couple of folding lawn chairs in my bedroom, in the closet, if you want to go get them.” He said, “Sure,” set his wine bottle on a table next to the door, and headed off in search of chairs as Mia went in the other direction.

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  Entering her bedroom, he made a beeline for the closet—but was stopped dead in his tracks by what lay on her dresser. Two Mardi Gras masks. One in black with silver cording. The other of purple sequins with dangling beads.

  He actually blinked, hard, then opened his eyes again, somehow thinking he’d see them differently.

  But no—they were the same. The same very familiar masks. He picked up both in one hand, his stomach wrenching painfully as he tried to make sense of it. Which is when it hit him. Mina. Mia. Mina. Mia.

  All along, he’d had the bizarre feeling of knowing her, although maybe at the time he’d perceived it more as wanting to know her. But now, as it all slowly became clear to him…damn, how could it be?

  How could his sweet Mia have been Mistress Mina?

  My God, the intimate acts they’d indulged in together! The things he’d let her do to him!

  Along with the general shock of finding out his seductress had been Mia came the surprise of discovering that apparently she wasn’t the sweet, docile girl he’d always thought. Tim’s little sister, the girl Ty had always wanted to protect, look out for.

  Apparently, it was the other way around— he needed protection from her.

  Feelings of humiliation, stupidity, and anger warred within him. His hands curled into fists as his body tensed. Why the fuck would she do this to him? Why would she lie, pretend?

  “Ty, did you find the chairs okay?” Her voice grew closer as she spoke, until she walked into the room. “They’re behind…”

  Her eyes fell on the masks he held. She went pale, still, and they stared at each other for a long, strange moment.

  “Why?” he boomed at her. “Why the hell did you do it?” Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.

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  “Why, Mia? Or is that Mina? Why did you lie to me? Answer me, damn it.”

  “I…I can explain.” She looked panicky, shaky. He thought she sure as hell should.

  “Well, start talking.”

  Shudders ran the entire length of Mia’s body. How had she been so stupid, letting him come in here? He’d shown up at her door unexpected, and she hadn’t even thought… Oh God. She’d just said she could explain, but could she? “I…I… God, Ty, I just…wanted to be with you.”

  He looked incredulous, and she couldn’t blame him. “So you thought it would be clever to put on a mask and a wig and make me think you were somebody else?” She nodded. Then shook her head. She was so confused. “I…I never thought you’d want me. So I just thought, with it being Mardi Gras and all, that maybe, just once, I could be someone else. Just for some fun. One sexy night. Something different and…memorable.”

  “So you thought it would be amusing to put one over on me, use me for some kinky sex, then cut me loose and never fill me in that it was you.” She’d never seen him look more disgusted, and behind that, in his eyes, just plain sad. She didn’t know what to say, how she could possibly salvage this. The worst had happened—everything good they’d ever shared was ruined now.

  Which made her realize she had nothing to lose. So she told him the unthinkable truth. “Ty, I’ve had a huge crush on you since I was thirteen years old. All these years, I’ve wanted you. But I knew you only saw me as a friend, or as Tim’s little sister. I knew nothing would ever happen between us if I didn’t make it happen. I’m thirty-one years old. I wanted to have wild, crazy sex with you. Just once. Just to get it out of my system.”

  “We fucked twice,” he snapped, lips set in a grim, straight line.

  “You wanted to see me again. You wouldn’t let it go.” Her voice quivered now that she’d told him the whole embarrassing truth. “So I…couldn’t resist doing it again.” 90

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  When still nothing changed in his enraged eyes, she babbled on further. “I never meant any harm. I just wanted to have a good time, without any repercussions. I wanted to give you a good time, too. That’s all.”

  “That’s all, huh?” he repeated, sounding cynical. Then he dropped the masks back to the dresser. “I’ll leave these for the next time you want to make some unsuspecting guy feel like a fool. I’m outta here.”

  With that, he stormed from the room, out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him before she could even catch her breath.

  She plopped down on the bed, burying her head in her hands. How the hell had this happened? And just when s
he’d been ready to put it behind her and move on.

  Well, she amended, not move on. Now that she knew she was in love with Ty, moving on sounded next to impossible—but she’d been ready to try resuming their old relationship, ready to attempt surviving the brutal emotion of love and maybe someday get past it. Now, everything was a colossal mess. And she couldn’t imagine any possible way to fix it.

  * * * * *

  Ty stalked away from her building, heading for Bourbon Street, his entire body tense. She’d used him. Lied to him and used him.

  Tied him up, for God’s sake. Made him lick her goddamn shoe! Fucked him with a riding crop!

  He shook his head in disbelief. It had been crazy enough back when he’d thought they were two strangers. But to find out his masked seductress was someone he knew, someone he knew very well, and that she was lying to him and using him because she wanted to experiment with some kinky sex was…mortifying. To think of how he’d pined over her. Tried to track her down. Longed to take that mask off and see her face.

  Well, at least now he knew why she’d been so damned adamant about leaving the mask on.

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  Then new thoughts hit him. He’d seen, felt, tasted Mia’s breasts now. Mia’s! He’d seen, felt, tasted— deeply—her pussy. She shaved it. Never in a million years would he have imagined Mia was a sensual, sexual enough creature to do that. Or to own that kind of lingerie. To want that sort of wild, hedonistic sex.

  He shook his head, extremely confused and sorry to acknowledge that his cock was getting stiff with the memories, with the realization that his wild, riotous sex partner was sweet Mia, who he’d thought didn’t have a kinky, dirty bone in her body.

  Turning a corner onto Bourbon was literally walking into an enormous, wild party.

  Everywhere he looked, people were drinking, laughing, making out. A jazz band played in the street. People in costumes—wizards, tigers, court jesters—passed by. Girls were lifting their shirts and collecting mountains of beads to weigh down their necks.