French Quarter (27 page)

“Good.” Even that sounded strangely cold.

Liz was out of things to say. She’d really believed that if she called him, he’d suggest getting together. She’d been sure he’d tell her he’d been meaning to call, was just busy with some important case, but missed her and wanted to meet her someplace on Bourbon Street tonight. Yet that wasn’t happening, and the dead air between them was as stifling as the humid heat outside.

“Well,” she finally said out of desperation to fill the silence, “maybe I’ll…see you sometime soon.”

Another hint of hesitation.
Say yes,
she begged silently.
Ask me to see you.
“Maybe,” he slowly replied, still as distant-sounding as he’d been since picking up the phone.

She swallowed again, this time having to work past the lump in her throat. “Well then, bye.”

“Bye, Liz.”

The line went dead and Liz fought back the tears behind her eyes. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry over him. She’d known from the start she was playing a game that shouldn’t—
couldn’t—
involve her heart, and it had been a fatal mistake to let herself even
begin
to fall for him. She’d known
that
even before it had happened. All this meant, she told herself, was that as she’d predicted from the start, the time had come when he was ready to end things. He’d had fun with her until the newness had worn off their heady, sexy relationship. Clearly, finding out she’d decided not to move in with him had been a relief, and a convenient time to call it quits.

She couldn’t even be angry. He’d certainly never promised her anything, and she’d never asked him to. Despite not wanting their affair to end, she’d known it would, and probably sooner rather than later.

Still, it hurt. It felt like someone had just dropped a ton of bricks on her chest, like her heart and lungs were going to burst apart any second. Damn her for letting herself fall in love—damn her weakness.

Just then, a small knock came on her door. “Honey, you in there?” It was Lynda.

“Yeah,” she managed, hoping she didn’t sound as crushed as she felt.

Lynda opened the door. “Listen, I was thinking you and I should go out tonight.” As she approached the bed, it was clear she could read Liz’s sorrow. “Are you okay?”

She’d kept Lynda filled in on her predicament, so there seemed no reason to lie. “I just called Jack.”

Lynda seemed to tense slightly on her behalf. “And?”

“And…my fears came true. He wasn’t interested in talking to me. He was so…cold.” She’d never heard Jack sound that way before—ever. Even in that very first confrontational moment when they’d met, he’d been warmer to her than he’d been on the phone just now.

Lynda sat down on the bed and placed one hand warmly on Liz’s thigh through her skirt. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

Liz nodded slightly against the pillow sham.

“But you know,” Lynda said with a tilt of her head, “this is all the more reason for you and me to paint Bourbon Street red tonight.”

Liz let out a sigh. Without Jack, Bourbon Street sounded…boring. “Thanks for the invitation, Lynda, but I don’t think so. I’m not exactly in the mood for fun.”

“Precisely my point.” Lynda gave her thigh a light squeeze. “I think the best thing in the world for you would be to go out and get your mind on something else. Even if you don’t totally enjoy it, it’s a distraction—which you need. You’ve been moping around here all week, and I hate to see you so sad. It’s time to start getting over Jack.”

“I only just now officially discovered I
have
to get over Jack,” she complained.

“Even so, it wasn’t a long relationship, so you need to bounce back and move on.”

True enough—it had only
felt
like a long relationship. She’d done more living with Jack in a week than she had with anyone else in her whole life.

“Come on now,” Lynda said, taking her by the wrists and pulling her to a sitting position. “I’m not taking no for an answer. You and I are going to get totally dolled up, then we’ll have dinner at Pat O’s, drink a hurricane or two, and find someplace fun to party.”

* * * * *

Liz and Lynda sat at a small round table at a sexy new dance club in the Quarter called Jade. Lynda had heard the atmosphere was wild, and the place definitely lived up to its reputation. The large dance floor was filled with people dirty dancing—girls with guys, girls with other girls, touching, caressing, kissing, grinding. In a small dancer’s cage at one corner of the floor, two girls in skimpy halter tops and short skirts danced while sensually pumping their crotches together and French kissing, much to the crowd’s delight. Across the room at the opposite corner, a pretty girl danced in another cage, wowing the crowd by flashing her tits every few minutes. Liz watched, as finally—the girl took off her top and let it drop at her feet. The dance floor cheered the loss of her top and a guy joined her from below, starting a slow bump and grind with her.

Despite herself, Liz’s pussy throbbed. Yet she still felt sad, empty. She knew if Jack were here she might be inspired to join in the crowd’s debauchery, to excite herself, and moreover, to excite him. When she analyzed any and everything she’d done in Jack’s presence, exciting him
was
what excited her. Oh, certainly she’d enjoyed the lush indulgence of having two men lavish sexual attention on her, just as she’d enjoyed playing naughty little games with the girls at Club Venus, but Jack was the necessary ingredient. Without him, the recipe simply didn’t work—she simply didn’t want to be a bad girl if he wasn’t there to encourage it or enjoy it.

“Which one of you lovely ladies wants to get down and dirty with me on the dance floor?”

She and Lynda both looked up to see a guy in his early twenties with a sexy twinkle in his eye and a hot, muscular body visible beneath his simple t-shirt and jeans.

Lynda winked at her. “My friend, Liz, would love to dance with you.”

He flashed a killer smile designed to seduce, and held out a hand to Liz.

But despite how gorgeous he was, and how clearly interested in her he appeared to be, the idea of being with anyone other than Jack simply didn’t appeal, not even for a
normal
sort of dance, let alone a “down and dirty” one. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to sound gracious, “but I don’t really feel like dancing.”

He put on a persuasive look. “Come on, you’ll have fun. I promise.”

She had to be an idiot to pass this up. After all, wasn’t this what sexual freedom was about? In theory, she should be using the freedom she’d gained through Jack’s guidance to expand her horizons now with this new, very hot young guy—yet she just couldn’t. Something about it felt terribly wrong.

Ironic, she thought, given all the things she’d done recently that
hadn’t
felt wrong. But she knew it all came back to Jack. Fucking Ty had simply been fucking Jack in another way. Rubbing her pussy against Felicia had simply been rubbing her pussy against Jack in a different manner. It was Jack who made her want to be sexy and decadent, Jack who loosed all her inhibitions.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “but Lynda here is
always
up for a good time. Aren’t you, Lynda?” She looked pointedly to her friend.

“Are you sure?” Lynda asked. “I have a feeling you’re missing out on something good.”

Liz forced a smile at both of them. “If I know you, you’ll enjoy it enough for both of us. Now go dance,” she finished, nudging Lynda’s thigh with her stocking-covered knee.

Finally, Lynda eased down off the bar stool and let young Mr. Hottie usher her onto the floor. Liz watched them disappear into the crowd, and then, for lack of anything better to do, she returned her attention to the topless chick and her new boy toy. The girl now gripped the cage’s vertical bars, arching her ass while the boy toy—now shirtless, too—pumped at her short skirt with the bulge in his blue jeans; simulated sex in time with the driving beat of the music.

“Hey there, sweet thing.”

The feminine voice came with a light touch on Liz’s arm. She looked up to find the lovely Felicia. Think of the devil and here she was, looking like sin itself in a tight, skimpy red dress that just barely covered her nipples.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me,” Felicia said, fists stabbing playfully at her hips.

Liz smiled politely. “Oh yes, don’t worry, I know who you are.”

Felicia’s grin turned hot, predatory, as she leaned to whisper in Liz’s ear. “The last time I saw you our sweet little pussies were pounding at each other.”

Liz’s cunt flinched, reluctantly excited at the memory. Her breasts turned achy and she knew her nipples had just hardened into buds against the bodice of her dress, a low cut pink confection that draped her body in all the right places.

Felicia flashed a seductive smile. Stepping closer, she tossed her long, dark mane over her shoulder, lowering her hand to a spot high on Liz’s thigh. Again, Liz’s pussy tingled against her will, even more when Felicia eased her fingers under the hem of Liz’s dress to play with the lace top of her stocking. “You want to dance with me?” she asked.

To her surprise, Liz was almost tempted. Her first foray into discovering her true sexual self had been with Felicia and the memories of how thrilling it had been to have Felicia’s lovely body move against hers remained fresh and strong. Images of Felicia’s big, beautiful breasts and her shaved pussy, all smooth and pouty, entered Liz’s head. The strong hurricanes she’d consumed tonight had her just intoxicated enough that maybe she could let go of her depression for a little while and indulge in what sexy Felicia had to offer. Maybe she could actually enjoy a little girl play without Jack. And maybe if she could make herself get down off this bar stool and grind against this hot woman on the dance floor, it would be a good first step to doing exactly what Lynda had wanted her to do tonight—find a distraction, start getting over Jack.

“I’m … not sure,” she finally heard herself say.

Felicia tilted her head. “You look sad, sweet thing. What happened? Did that man break your heart?”

Liz slowly nodded.

Felicia’s smile took on a new warmth, a woman to woman camaraderie. “Why don’t you let me take your mind off him?” She leaned closer, her arm closing intimately around Liz’s waist, her breasts brushing against Liz’s to send a warm skittering sensation all through them. She whispered again in Liz’s ear. “We don’t even have to dance. I only live a couple of blocks from here. We can go to my place and I’ll make you forget you ever thought you needed a man. I’ll kiss your pretty lips, lick your pretty breasts, and eat your pretty pink pussy all night long.”

A shiver ran the length of Liz’s body. Part of her was tempted to see if Felicia
could
make her forget how lonely she felt without Jack, and she was flattered that a woman who made a living pleasuring countless men and sometimes women wanted so badly to pleasure her now for free. Yet even as her hungry cunt throbbed at Felicia’s promises, deep inside she knew it wasn’t the answer, and even feared she’d regret it in the morning if she fooled around with Felicia tonight.

The physical pleasure would be there, yes—she still felt as attracted to the stripper as when she’d gotten her hot lap dances at Club Venus—but what she’d discovered with Jack was that she felt
more
than physical pleasure anytime he was with her. And she understood now that purely physical wasn’t enough. The joy she’d experienced on her wild sexual adventures was as wrapped up in her emotions for Jack as in the satisfaction to her body.

“What do you say, baby?” Felicia whispered, her voice so sexy that Liz went wet.

Liz leaned to Felicia’s ear to whisper back. “You’re incredibly beautiful, incredibly hot, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Felicia looked disappointed. “Why not?”

Liz offered a wry smile. “I’m just not over him. I’m sorry.”

Felicia tilted her head. “Maybe another time, sweet thing.” With that, she eased their curves apart, but placed her hand on Liz’s cheek, giving her a short, sweet kiss on the lips. “If you ever change your mind, look me up at the club.”

Liz nodded, then watched as Felicia walked away, her ass looking delectably touchable wrapped in a tight sheath of red. But words like delectable and touchable didn’t matter to Liz very much if Jack wasn’t there.

A moment later, Lynda appeared beside her, leading her muscular young stud by the hand. She eased her arm around Liz’s waist and Liz became aware that, just like with Felicia a few minutes earlier, their breasts were pressing together. Despite herself, in her current state of unwanted arousal, her crotch went warm. Also like Felicia, Lynda was leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Honey, Mike and I were thinking of leaving and going back to his place, just down on Bienville. We were hoping you might want to come.”

At first, Liz assumed the invitation was an obligation, that Lynda simply didn’t want to leave her in the midst of her depression, especially since she’d practically dragged Liz out against her will. But when Lynda eased back and Liz could look in her eyes, she understood what Lynda was really asking—she and Mike wanted Liz to join them for a
ménage a trois
.

Yet another rush of unbidden excitement raced through her pussy at the notion, but she already knew the answer, which she delivered softly. “I don’t think so, Lynda.”

Lynda’s expression turned coquettish. “Are you sure? It would be fun, I promise.”