tagLoving WivesFrench Quarter Liaison

French Quarter Liaison

bysirensong47©

Traditionally southern springs are humid with blustery winds, a lot of warm rain showers, and an abundance of budding plants awaiting nature's signal to bloom. One such March, we were all treated to what can only be described as a winter hurricane.

That Friday in the early afternoon the gray clouds began to form and build. The winds escalated and howled as they reached upwards to hurricane strength. The difference between this experience and a normal hurricane was the bone chilling temperatures. As the wind howled , it began to snow. Large flakes billowed about instead of the driving rains that normally accompany such a storm.

As I looked out of the bedroom window in amazement my adrenaline began to surge. This indeed was going to add a new element to the adventure we were to undertake. The storm was an unexpected guest. Nathan and I were due at the airport in an hour to greet a traveler we had awaited with both anticipation and anxiety.

We had met Craig briefly on two prior occasions while traveling to the Bay Area. He had been a dear friend of a former lover who had since died. This shared link to my lost love created a special bond between us.

As I dressed, my mind wandered back to the days when it was Andrew who would get off that plane. Ours was an unusual relationship in that we saw each other only once or twice per year. The rest of the time we communicated with written correspondence, telephone dates with a shared bottle of wine, and through a unique ability to connect telepathically.

During the times Andrew and I were able to physically be together, we disconnected from everything and everyone else. Watches were discarded, telephones unplugged, and we entered into a world we created for ourselves called "pludder-play". When I was with him, I felt like the most sensual creature alive; and my sexual desire reached its highest level. Together we were a primal force experiencing life with no boundaries.

Enveloped in this dream state I dressed for him. I imagined his eyes watching me, appraising my movements, nodding his approval at my choices in color or fabric to adorn my body.

From my lingerie drawer I chose a black corset with laces that allowed me to contour the shape of my waist and the lift of my breasts. Sheer black silk stockings clung to my legs and accentuated the fullness of my calves. In contrast, the dress was black wool with long sleeves and a turtleneck.

As though he were present in the room with me, I envisioned his arms encircling me as his lips brushed the nape of my neck, and he whispered that he was wearing a hard on just for me. A trail of goose bumps traveled my spine with the excitement my ghost lover had stirred within me.

What brought me back to reality was the sound of Nathan's voice calling me. "Diana, the bags are in the car. Are you almost ready?"

"I'll be right there Nathan. Give me a sec to get a hat."

I chose a medium brimmed black felt hat rimmed with a mid-night blue velvet ribbon and six feather plumes in a matching color. After adjusting it with a slight tilt to the right over my eyebrow, I looked critically at the image in the mirror. The woman who looked back at me had sparkling eyes that declared her confidence. Satisfied, I grabbed my purse and descended the stairway.

Nathan took my hand as I reached the landing and turned me about. "Wow woman you look hot! This is for you!" he said as he guided my hand to his crotch. His penis was engorged with arousal. I could not help but smile when a small wet spot appeared on his trousers. My pet name for this wonderful man is "Ever-ready"; his signal is always love drops that seep from the tip of his penis.

The trip to the airport was harried. New Orleans drivers are normally dangerous but with the added dimension of snow, it was more of a life and death matter. As luck would have it we were late in arriving at the terminal.

"Wouldn't it be something if he traveled all the way from San Francisco and we drive ten miles and he still beat us to the airport?"

"Relax, Diana. The tower has probably shut some of the runways down so a lot of planes will be circling until the runway is clear. If it will calm you some, I'll drop you off before I park the car."

The terminal was crowded with weary travelers whose flights had been canceled as well as family and friends there to pick up travelers whose flights had been delayed by the weather. Checking the monitor I confirmed that Craig's flight had not yet arrived, so I made my way to the bar to wait and think.

Sipping a gin and tonic my eyes began to float over the sea of humanity that crowded the bar. Fragments of animated conversation occasionally punctuated by laughter floated through the room with a lulling hypnotic effect. The mood here was festive as though all were traveling home for the holidays.

Christmas was always the time Andrew came home as he said for his annual "reality check". He was born in the South; and, relished the food, soft southern speech patterns, jazz and blues music, and the variety of shades of green that is the essence of the swamps.

We first met at a wedding reception hosted on a paddle wheeler that cruised the Mississippi River, both of us guests of the bride. He was in the midst of a group of older ladies that seemed captivated by the story he was telling. "Yes, yes California was something to behold. Strange folk they are though. They think just because I talk slower that I must automatically think slower. So I just drawl on with the clock ticking and send them all a bill for my legal services, extra think time included of course."

"What about the ladies Andrew? Are you in love?" A stout matronly woman flirted outrageously with him.

"Yes ma'am. I fall in love every day. You know there are a lot of 'funny men' out there in San Francisco and the pickin's are a might slim for the ladies. I feel it's my duty as a Southern gentleman to look out for as many of them as I possibly can."

I could not take my eyes off of him. He was dressed in a white suit with a pale blue ruffled shirt and tie. His hair was a shock of thick blond curls, and his goatee a strawberry blond color. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown that was so intense that left no doubt that he was a man of intelligence. His eyes danced with merriment as he charmed his audience.

Enchanted, I moved closer with the intent of talking to this person, touching this person, knowing this person. He looked like young Joseph Cotton and handled himself with the dramatic flair of a great plantation owner when the South was in its infancy. All that was missing was a Panama hat to complete the image. I was in love with him before our first words were exchanged.

He must have felt my presence for he turned to face me; our eyes locked. "Excuse me ladies". He said with a slight bow before making his way to my side. I felt certain that he was acting out a role for everyone's benefit. From the start, we formed a bond and a chemistry that I have never experienced with another soul.

We gravitated to the dance floor where we shamelessly excluded everyone else present. Melody after melody, we danced. Our bodies were pressed against the other. A yellow sundress covered my otherwise bare breasts. My nipples were rigid, ripe, and obvious to anyone who would have cared to look.

His body had signaled his own state of arousal. His erection stimulating both of us as we pressed closer into the other. "Let's go find a private spot".

We strolled the deck arm in arm, too preoccupied to notice the dark clouds and misting rain. There was no one else about except a few longshoremen along the wharf. We found ourselves next to the ship's rotating paddle wheel that churned the dark waters of the Mississippi River. The vessel had just passed beneath the bridge that connected the city to the west bank, and began its turn to head back to port.

It was there in the rain that it was decided that we were going to plan a week's escape together in the very near future. We had to reluctantly make our way back to join the other guests. He was my lover, my playmate, an unconditional friend and a caring patient mentor. I loved him passionately. I still do even though he died many years ago.

It was shortly after Andrew's death that I accompanied Nathan to a convention in San Francisco. We met Craig through one of Andrew's other lady friends. Andrew had told him many stories about me, so he was anxious to meet me. Over lunch at posh five star French restaurant, we reminisced, filling each other in about aspects of Andrew that the other knew nothing about. Andrew was a very complex man who kept his life compartmentalized. We concluded that this was his method of creating the mystique he so delighted in presenting to others.

Craig took my hand from across the table and covered it with his manicured hand. We sat in silence for a while grieving the loss of our dear friend.

It was during this lunch that Craig divulged that he and Andrew often shared stories of their erotic escapades as well as sometimes sharing the pleasures of a lady. He said Andrew had hinted that he might be willing to introduce him to me on my next visit to the coast.

Leaning close and in a soft whisper he smiled, "Andrew was right; you are quite a sensual creature. I am sorry that we will not ever have that erotic adventure."

Checking my watch I became aware of how much time had passed since Nathan had dropped me off on his way to the parking garage. Where was he? I wanted him next to me so that I could feel the warmth of him. As though by magic, he entered the bar, head down and his coat tails flying.

I watched him with amusement. I knew full well that his mind was preoccupied with hundreds of ideas all at the same time. Luckily he knew that I would be somewhere in the bar. I knew he would eventually realize that he had not yet looked up long enough to spot me. Sure enough he began to search the room. I was sitting four tables away. But he had systematically let his gaze fall to the back of the room his eyes traveling left to right. When his eyes finally fell on mine he smiled sheepishly.

He slid into the booth beside me and put his arm around my shoulder before whispering into my ear, "Are you waiting for someone? Would you like to be ravaged? His wit and charm is just a couple of the wonderful things about him. What I usually find most attractive about a man is high intelligence; and Nathan is pure genius.

Craig's flight was the last to be allowed to land before the airport closed due to worsening weather conditions. He walked briskly down the concourse to greet us. He exchanged greetings and a handshake with Nathan. He then threw his arms around me and hugged me fiercely. My feet actually left the ground as he twirled me about. Through the tweed fabric of his jacket, I could feel the firm and well defined muscles in his chest and arms. This was a man who prided himself in creating and maintaining a body frame any female would find exciting to touch or just view. A ripple of sexual pleasure flowed though out me as he gently returned me to the floor.

Lustful attraction is always a promise of things to come.

The original plan had been for Nathan and me to take Craig via the scenic route of the beautiful old mansions and massive graceful oaks that lined St. Charles Avenue before stopping for dinner. However, once we exited the parking garage it was evident that those plans would have to be altered. The wind was howling with such force that it was difficult to hold the car on a steady course. The snow was no longer a dusting, but large sticky flakes.

"Nathan, how about just stopping at La Madeline's and we can just bring dinner with us to the guest house?"

"That will work. Then we can still maneuver down St. Charles."

Craig chimed in, "I got a suitcase full of California vino so drinks are taken care of."

Nathan stayed in the car to keep the engine running and the heater pumping. Craig and I went in to make impromptu dinner selections. The aroma of the roasted chickens covered in rosemary and other "secret spices" made me salivate. So chicken it was! Along with Caesar salads and two baguettes of crusty still warm French bread.

Satisfied that we had enough provisions for one night, we began to make our way down the Avenue. The storm had blown down several limbs of the giant oaks that once majestically adorned the way. One had fallen and blocked the trolley tracks causing them to cease operation. Abandoned trolley cars lined the neutral ground. The effect of the snow drifting through the massive oaks combined with the streets being empty of vehicular traffic was quite eerie!

The streets of the French Quarter were equally deserted. There were no diners in any of the restaurants; no music rang out from any of the honky-tonks along the way. It all seemed so surreal.

An old historic guesthouse on Royal Street was our destination, the Andrew Jackson Hotel. Some would describe it as quaint as each guest room was furnished with antiques that had seen better days. We had stayed here previously and enjoyed the absolute privacy provided by the staff.

We braced ourselves upon exiting the car for the Arctic blast we knew awaited us. Each of us grabbed the luggage and staggered to the door. The lobby was abuzz with activity. Guests who would ordinarily be out partying from club to club down Bourbon Street were reluctant to have their spirits dampened. Many had opened up the doors to their suites and created a party environment with radios, drinks and jovial conversation.

After registering, we had to once again brave the elements to get to our rooms. Craig's room was on the second floor of the main building facing the courtyard. Nathan and I had to make our way across the courtyard and the very back of the property to what had once been the carriage house. Although our room was small it had a very cozy atmosphere. This part of the house was quiet, so quiet; there was the illusion that we were totally alone.

After depositing our belongings about the room, Nathan took my arm and pulled me towards him. We held each other and exchanged the warmth radiated by the other's body. "You must be freezing," he said as he reluctantly released his hold. The only source of heat to be found was a small space heater right outside the bathroom door. "Well, Diana looks like we are going to have to create our own heat sweetheart."

We then busied ourselves with the task of unloading the luggage. Utilizing the bureau as a dining table I laid out the food in a buffet style. In the mean time Nathan lit candles around the room and put on a cd of George Winston's "December".

Whenever I listen to this music, I envision a remote and rustic cabin with the only source of heat being provided by a huge stone fireplace. The image always includes a heavy blanket of snow on the ground and a continuing snowfall. I appreciated the irony of Nathan's choice in music for he was setting the stage and creating additional comfort zone for both of us.

I knew he was nervous. And understandably so! He had never experienced an adventure such as this before. This was definitely not the first time I had two lovers at the same time. And, I admit that I was edgy and ready to play with our handsome guest. I knew of his prowess from one of Andrew's lovers who had been with the two of them on several occasions. She rated Craig's skill highly.

A soft knock at the door signaled Craig's arrival. Under each arm and in each hand he carried a bottle of wine. Placing them on the bureau, he immediately pulled the cork on one of the red zinfandels. It was only then that we realized that the only glasses available were the plastic ones in the bathroom. Undaunted, Craig poured and served each of us with the grace of a maitre de' at any fine dining establishment.

We toasted his safe arrival, his first visit to New Orleans, seeing each other again, and one to Andrew for indirectly bringing us all together. By this time, we had emptied the first bottle.

Feeling flushed from the wine, I asked if any one would mind if I changed into something more comfortable. Neither man offered any objection, so walking over to the heater I began the tedious task of trying to unbutton the many small buttons and loops down the back of the dress.

"Let me help," offered Nathan. With his deft fingers the dress was soon open down the back. Lifting the hem of the skirt, he soon had the dress over my head leaving me standing before the two men in the black corset, stockings and three-inch heels.

"Would you unhook this corset please Nathan?'

From across the room a voice cried, "Wait! Let me look at you!"

As I turned to face Craig, his face was covered in an appreciative smile. His eyes traveled up and down me. With mischief in his voice came, "So this is southern hospitality!"

There was no doubt in my mind that he liked what he saw. There was equally no doubt that Nathan was in an aroused state as he began to unhook the corset with deliberate slowness. His fingers brushed lightly over my skin. As the corset began to loosen, I crossed my arms over my breasts to hold the garment in place. When the last restraint was released, I turned away from Craig and unsnapped the garters that held the stockings in place before casting the corset aside. Then bending at the waist I rolled the stockings down each leg before stepping out of them.

Looking over my shoulder I smiled at both men who were gazing at me with rapt attention. My backside was now completely exposed to their eyes.

Playing to my audience I leaned towards the red velvet tufted chair to pick up the white negligee that had been selected especially for this evening. I raised the delicate fabric above my head with arms fully extended and let the material glide past, over my shoulders and down my body. The gown had a thin spaghetti strap and was made of white satin that covered my torso. The bottom was a swirl of transparent white chiffon capable of clinging to the roundness of my buttocks or caressing the calves of my legs. The V-line at the neck was adorned with appliqués of delicate pick roses with tiny pearls in the center of each flower.

Nathan had given me this gown because he said it made me look like a ballerina. Impulsively I began to pirouette about the room performing for this intimate private audience.

It would less than honest should I not admit the power and control I felt to have two handsome desirable men so seemingly captivated by me! Boldly, and with what I hoped was with seductive drama I came to rest in a reclining position upon the bed.

Seeing an obvious bulge in Craig's pants I suggested that he might be more comfortable if he took them off. He needed no second invitation. The zipper opened, his pants dropped, he wore no briefs so there before my eyes was his beautiful fully erect cock. Reaching out and taking it in my hand I asked, "May I?"

He answered by dropping down beside me on the bed. With a flick of his hand one strap fell from my shoulder exposing my breast. His mouth was on me. His breath felt so warm! He sucked the nipple as he massaged the breast itself between his fingers. His tongue swirled around the tender nipple flesh as I sighed with pure pleasure. All the while, Nathan knelt beside us watching with fascination, his eyes darting from my face to the coupling of mouth and breast. His hand was stroking his own crotch. Without breaking the pleasurable connection I was so enjoying, I motioned Nathan to come to me. His mouth locked on mine as our tongues caressed each other.

"Nathan, there is something coming between us! Those clothes have to go!" I instructed. Almost shyly he did so for he had never been naked in front of another man before.

We repositioned ourselves in the center of the bed. Craig had moved between my legs. This time his mouth found its way to my swollen vaginal lips. His tongue parted the lips in search of my clitoris. As he slid it over the hot tissue I began to throb as the first of what would be many orgasms flooded his mouth. The pleasure continued to mount as he lavished me with his tongue kisses. Shivers overtook me as he slid the hot flesh of his tongue into my vagina. Gene Simmons is no longer the longest tongue I have ever seen!

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