French Quarter (28 page)

Liz nearly laughed, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by all these sexual invitations coming at her right and left. The funny part, she supposed, was the irony. A week ago, she might have thought she’d be up for
anything
, but now she wasn’t. She smiled indulgently. “I…appreciate the invitation, but…no, Lynda—I’m not into it.”

Lynda tilted her head, looking drunk and honest and sweet. “Jack’s an idiot to give you up. How he can resist you, I’ll never know.” With that, she ran her fingertips lightly down Liz’s arm. “Will you be all right if I go? If you want me to stay, I will.”

“Actually, I think I’d rather head home. I’m just…not really ready to be out on the social scene yet.”

Acceptant, Lynda nodded, taking Liz’s hand to help her down from the stool. “Come on. Mike and I will make sure you get a cab before we go.”

* * * * *

Liz thought she’d feel better by the time she got home. She thought she’d relish the privacy, knowing Lynda would be out late, figuring Todd, too, was probably out at Club Venus or some other similar establishment on a Friday night. She’d thought she’d climb into a comfy pair of pajamas, watch a little TV, and go to bed. But when she got home, she felt so lonely that it was like a physical thing, a gnawing in her stomach that wouldn’t let up.

Despite the late hour, she picked up the phone and called her sister, Diana. The middle Marsh sister always made Liz laugh, and even though she hadn’t talked to Diana in a few weeks, her recent sexual awakening had made her feel a new bond with her younger sis, who had always been a free spirit.

“What time is it?” Diana asked groggily.

“It’s late, but I need to talk.”

Liz could picture her sister trying to sit up in bed, shoving her long hair out of her face. “Okay. What’s up? It’s not like you to burn the midnight oil.”

Liz sighed. “You wouldn’t
believe
all that’s up here.”

Diana suddenly sounded more awake. “Well, fill me in.”

Liz spent the next fifteen minutes catching Diana up on her life. Diana, of course, had heard from their parents that Liz’s engagement was off, but was utterly stunned to hear Liz’s tales of Jack, not to mention tales of Ty and Felicia and sex clubs. In one way, Liz was amazed she could tell her sister everything so openly, but it was so freeing, and she’d known Diana would understand. And once Diana got past her shock, she seemed thrilled at the change in Liz. She laughed, saying “Now, if only we could get Carrie to loosen up a little, all three of us could know the joys of good sex.”

“Well, the sex isn’t good anymore, remember,” Liz said. “Now that he’s gone, I don’t want to be with anyone but him.”

She heard her sister sigh. “Believe it or not, I’m kind of in the same boat.”

Liz started. This didn’t sound like Diana. “Oh?”

“Remember I told you about Bradley, the guy mom fixed me up with? Well, turns out he’s, um…not into sex, or at least not until well into the relationship, so I’m sort of frustrated these days myself.”

Liz barely knew how to reply. The Diana she knew wouldn’t date a guy who wasn’t into sex, early and often. But then again, maybe this meant Bradley was someone special, someone who was changing Diana’s wild ways. “Are things serious between you two?” she asked.

“Maybe. Kind of. I’m not sure. But back to you…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry you’re sad, Lizzie. This P.I. guy sounds like he was a keeper.”

Liz didn’t reply, simply bit her lip to hold back her emotion.

“Maybe you should just go ahead and tell him about Todd’s threats,” Diana suggested.

“Easy for you to say. You haven’t been here watching Todd self-destruct. He’s an entirely different guy than he was back in Maryland.”

“Hmm, seems that city you’re in has strange powers over everyone, doesn’t it?”

Indeed
, Liz thought. The French Quarter had certainly changed
her
.

When she hung up with Diana a little while later, nothing was particularly changed or resolved, but she was still glad to have filled her sister in on the happenings in her life—and she hoped she’d be good and sleepy now, ready to doze off.

But despite herself, her body was still humming with sexual need.

She’d have been far better off if she’d stayed home tonight. Seeing all the sensuality on the dance floor, then getting unwittingly aroused by Felicia’s touches and dirty talk, and then Lynda’s invitation…it was all too much. Add to that giving Diana all the details of her relationship with Jack, and her poor pussy wouldn’t quit pulsing no matter what she did. If Felicia walked in her door right now, she thought she might invite her upstairs.

As it was, she simply ascended the stairs to her room alone, walked to the chest, and opened her lingerie drawer. Digging down under the lace and silk, she pulled out the vibrator—Jack’s gift to her. She ran her hand over the head, the veined shaft, missing Jack’s cock so much it hurt.

Walking to the bed, she lay down without even taking off her strappy, heeled shoes. Lifting her ass, she pulled her dress up to her hips, then hooked her thumbs into the white thong panties she wore, pushing them down until they were off, finally flinging them away with her toes.

Keeping her knees bent, she parted her legs and looked down at her pussy. Even without seeing Jack every night, she’d kept it shaven but for the trim tuft of hair extending up from the top of her slit. Now she ran her hand over the outside of her cunt to feel the soft, smooth skin there, before placing the shaft of the vibrator flush against herself and twisting the end to turn it on. Sweet, electric tremors echoed through her hot flesh. She felt her pussy lips spread, inviting the shaft to nuzzle closer, where she was wet. She rubbed it up and down her slit, letting the buzzing vibrations fill her.

But it wasn’t enough, she soon discovered—she wanted a cock inside her. She wanted
Jack’s
cock inside her. She closed her eyes and imagined it, all hard and lovely, the dark pink head with just a dot of pre-come resting there, the blood-filled shaft—silk over steel in her hand. Raising her ass just slightly, she slid the vibrator into her passage—an easy entry. It filled her, but…it so clearly wasn’t Jack and she wanted to keep pretending it was. She turned it off, killing the vibrations but making it feel more like a real phallus. She moved it in and out, gentle at first, then harder, harder. And it felt good, something like what she needed…but damn it, still so far from
exactly
what she needed. The pretend cock was a little smaller than Jack’s, and fucking herself with it simply didn’t hold the power, or pleasure, that Jack’s hot fucking delivered.

She sighed. God, how sad. She missed him so badly she couldn’t even get herself off.

But then she let a new fantasy grow in her mind. Instead of imagining the vibrator was Jack, she imagined that Jack could see her, that he was watching her pleasure herself with it. Yes, he would like that—he’d once even said something to that effect. So she turned it back on, sending the hot, fast, quivering vibrations back through her cunt once again, and she slid it in and out, pretending Jack was watching every move, listening to her labored breath and watching as she sensuously licked her upper lip, hearing her low moans as she began to fuck herself harder, deeper.

Then she felt—remembered—the little nub Jack had pointed out to her. Each time she pushed the shaft in all the way, the raised knob rubbed against her clit. Mmm, yes. Very nice. The sensation made her slow the thrusts, got her lost in the pleasure—and also the fantasy. Jack watched the slow, deep fuck. He watched her reach up with her available hand to pull down her dress, freeing her breasts and then massaging one of them, enjoying the feel of her stiffened nipple jutting into her palm. He watched her quit thrusting the cock altogether, instead inserting it all the way, as deep as possible in her pussy, then writhing against that sweet little nub with a rhythm she knew would make her come.

Watch me, Jack. Watch me fuck my sweet pussy for you. Watch me.

She felt Jack’s eyes, permeating her, consuming her, and that’s all it took—a hot, blissful orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave, the consuming pulsations echoing through her body and swallowing her in mindless pleasure, until finally the tide inside her calmed…and left her sad and heartbroken once more.

* * * * *

Jack’s life felt like a fucking disaster. A week ago, he’d been in heaven—in love with a beautiful, sensual woman who fulfilled his every sexual fantasy like a dream come true. At the same time, work had been good, steady and manageable, fulfilling without being overwhelming.

Now he felt like a man trapped in a snow globe—like someone had picked up his fragile little world and given it a hard shake, and he was still waiting for the dust to settle.

His days now, without Liz, felt like one devastation after another. He kept forgetting—waking up in the morning expecting to find her there, or having her absence in his life strike him like a blow with a baseball bat at moments when he least expected it: turning his key in the lock to go home at night, ordering take out for one, finding—and then subsequently tearing up—the computer-generated bill for her case.

It was Friday night—he didn’t bother turning to check the clock, but he knew it was late. The last hours had been a blur and as he sat in his office, fast-forwarding through surveillance tapes looking for the relevant stuff, he thought back over the long evening.

Earlier, when a glimpse of the time revealed it was after nine, he’d decided to take a break and walk around the corner to Pat O’s for a helping of jambalaya and a side of catfish strips to go.

His cell phone had trilled nearly as soon as he’d walked out the door; he’d reached in his pocket and flipped it open. “Jack Wade.”

“Dude, where are you?” It was Ty.

“On my way to Pat O’s.”

“Cool—I’ll meet you there. We can grab some drinks, then maybe hit some clubs.”

“No,
ami
, I’m workin’. Just takin’ a break to get somethin’ to eat.”

“It’s Friday night, buddy.”

“And I’m busy,” he’d replied shortly. He didn’t mean to be gruff with Ty, but he was in no mood for partying.

He’d listened as Ty released a huge sigh. “Have you called her yet?”

Ty, of course, knew exactly why he was in such a pissy mood, and had been giving him unwanted counseling on it for days. He rolled his eyes as he kept moving, dodging a pair of ready-looking women who were giving him the eye on the sidewalk. “The truth is, I’ve considered callin’ her probably a hundred times since that day I practically hung up on her…but no, I still haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Ty
knew
why not, yet he’d made Jack say it again. “Because she taught me a valuable lesson, which I’m not gonna forget this time. And the lesson is that my old man was right—fallin’ for somebody only gets you kicked in the teeth in the end.”

 He still didn’t know what had prompted her to change her mind about moving in with him, but he could only conclude the same thing over and over—that she didn’t want to let the relationship go that far, get that serious or committed. As for her phone call, well, he supposed she missed the sex, but he’d learned the hard way from her that he was more than just a sex toy—he had feelings, and she’d fucking trampled them. A lonely sounding phone call didn’t change that. There were a thousand guys in this city she could fuck, and quite a few girls, too, if she wanted—he wasn’t playing stud to her anymore. He missed sex with her so much he sometimes felt like he couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t fuck her and not love her, and not having her love him back hurt too damn bad to even contemplate.

Ty had sounded put out with him. “If you ask me, you’re screwing up big time.”

“And for the twentieth time, I didn’t ask you.”

“Okay, okay.” Finally, his friend changed the subject. “So why the hell are you working this late on a Friday night?”

“It’s like I told you a couple days ago—the job’s suddenly runnin’ me ragged.” Lately, it seemed that if he wasn’t chasing down leads on a missing person’s case the police had given up on, he was trying to track down a bundle of laundered money or looking for a jewelry thief who’d managed to heist an expensive diamond necklace from a private collection. Of course, it got like this sometimes—cases got stacked up, one upon another, for no particular reason. But now, added to all that, was the task of trying to keep tabs on Todd.

“Still spyin’ on the nutjob?” Ty had asked, seeming to read Jack’s mind.

“Yep,” he answered shortly.

Despite how much Liz had hurt him, he still intended to keep her out of danger, at least to the degree he could control the situation—something she’d made a lot harder by deciding to stay put next door to her psycho ex. That decision still boggled his mind, and he knew from his caller I.D. system that she was still at Lynda’s, or at least she had been when she’d called him.

In fact, that was what really had him stuck in the office long after dark on a Friday night. He was off the clock, no longer billing anyone for his hours, but he had a shitload of surveillance tapes to catch up on—surveillance on Todd.

The very day after he’d had to escort the little bastard out Lynda’s front door, he’d let himself inside Todd’s back door with the help of a simple credit card, and he’d placed a few tiny cameras and mikes throughout the house—one in the kitchen, one in the living room, one in the master bedroom. He’d also placed one strategically on the corners of both the front porch and the back stoop—if Todd set out for Lynda’s, those cams should catch it. And Jack monitored those particular cameras in real time as much as possible, keeping one or the other on the little TV in his office while he made phone calls, handled e-mail, or worked on billing. He had it set up to monitor at home, too—so when he came home each evening, a little television that perched on top of his big screen stayed tuned to the space between Todd’s yard and Lynda’s. He couldn’t watch it constantly, but he tried to keep an eye on it as much as possible.