It seemed like I was always packing. My beautiful baby girl, Rona, was babbling in her cradle, and I was quietly trying to pack up my suitcase. It was late evening, the lamps were lit, my grandmother had long ago gone to bed, the mosquito netting around her softly blowing in the scented breeze. I was working as quickly as I could, trying not to forget things – oh, yes, my engagement ring from Pierce, the diamond heirloom my grandmother had given him to present to me. I debated a moment whether to take it and decided against it, leaving it nestled in its velvet case. The picture of Pierce, Rona, and I. "Baby, how am I going to leave you?" I whispered, tears filling my eyes. I tucked the picture away into the folds of my clothes.
Pierce was downstairs; I would have to creep out the back way. Thanks to grandmother's teaching I was now well able to hide my thoughts from him. It stung me to lie to him, but I couldn't stay here in this madness anymore, I couldn't! I grabbed my handbag and quickly counted the cash, and smiled to see my credit cards still in my purse. I would stay one night at a small hotel in the French Quarter of New Orleans and then go back up north. I had to get back up north, away from this place. I dropped a tender kiss on Rona's forehead and tiptoed out of the room.
I crept down the back stairs, the goose bumps rising on my damp skin, every hair that fell across my bare shoulders startling me. I slipped carefully out the screen door, the crickets the only sound in the silent night.
When I reached a main street I hailed a cab and settled inside, shivering in spite of the night's warmth. I firmly pressed my thighs together, trying in vain to quell my nervousness.
"Where to, miss?" asked the driver, trying to hide his curiosity about the young lady in his back seat.
"To New Orleans, the French Quarter," I replied breathlessly.
"That's gonna be expensive," he said slyly, looking over his shoulder at me and letting his eyes wander over my body.
"I know that." I snapped. "I have money."
He shrugged and pulled away from the curb. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled my head stubbornly from taking a last look at my home, my husband, my child. I focused on getting to New Orleans.
I paid the driver absently and stepped out in front of a rather nice looking hotel in the French Quarter. The city was full of light, alive, vibrant. People were moving everywhere, laughing and gesturing at each other. I felt a tingle of excitement. I was free! My step was almost buoyant as I hurried into the hotel lobby, my skirt swaying gently around my knees. I requested a simple room and had the bellboy bring my bag upstairs, and out of curiosity and excitement decided to go to the hotel lounge for a drink. After all, I was twenty-one, and had never been to a bar before in my life. I didn't worry that Pierce would have people looking for me yet – he probably didn't even notice I was gone. I decided to take advantage of my freedom in the city and sat down at the bar.
I noticed several men looking at me and by reading their thoughts, could tell that they were undressing me with their eyes, trying to imagine having sex with me. Of course many of them believed I was underage. Despite giving birth to Rona my body was still tight and virginal and my hair still long and glossy. The only change was that my breasts had grown slightly larger, which of course made me even more desirable to men.
Only one man caught my attention. His eyes weren't focused on me, but on his drink, and his thoughts were preoccupied and jumbled. Feeling some interest in him, I asked the bartender to send him another drink on my tab and watched him receive it gratefully, nodding his acceptance at me. In a bold move I decided to sit down with him, discover him. I was intrigued at this gentleman whose mind was so difficult to read.
He wore a light jacket and jeans, and his hair was light brown with blonde sun streaks. I noticed immediately that he had very nice hands and a slightly muscular build. His eyes were deep blue and sorrowful. As soon as I sat down I felt intrusive and rather foolish, and just as I was about to get up he smiled, although the effect was rather painful, since he was quite obviously so sad.
"Hi," I said stupidly, ashamed of my own boldness and beginning to feel rather conspicuous in this dim bar.
"Hello," he replied. "Thank you for the drink."
"You're welcome. You looked like you needed it."
He chuckled softly and nodded. "I do. Sean Cornell."
I smiled softly. "Dixie St. Clair." Immediately I realized that I should have given him a false name to protect my identity, but I trusted this man, I wasn't sure why.
"St. Clair," he mused. "Sounds pretty rich."
"It is," I replied, laughing. "But I'm not… you might say I'm excommunicated."
"Sorry to hear it," he said. "You old enough to be in here, Miss St. Clair? How'd you get past the bartender?"
"I'm old enough," I said, smiling. "I know I look young. But since you were so impertinent to allude to my age, may I ask you yours?"
"Too old for you, sweetheart," he said, smiling again. "Twenty-eight, actually."
"My husband is thirty," I replied gently, and upon seeing the shock register on his face, added, "I…ran from him, in a way. Don't feel guilty."
He looked relieved. "Well, I just found out my girlfriend is engaged to someone else, since we're sharing. So this drink is coming in pretty handy." He tipped his glass toward me in a mock toast.
I looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe we should have another upstairs," I whispered.
He looked at me carefully, trying to see if I was serious enough to mean what I said. "Your husband…" he whispered back.
"He won't look for me here, not tonight." I replied. "I have to leave tomorrow… I would like to spend the night with you."
Sean rose slowly from his chair and took my hand, stopping briefly to pay the bartender. I led him upstairs to my room and called room service for a bottle of white wine. "I haven't felt this way about a man since I got married," I whispered.
Sean was kissing my neck, my throat. His lips were soft and his skin scented, manly. I had never been with a man with such incredible strength before, and his touch was different somehow. Not too rough, but not as gentle as Pierce. After we were married, Pierce had become less and less my husband and more distant. He stopped touching me after we went to bed, until eventually I had begun sleeping in the nursery. Grandmother refused to comment on why Pierce was so distant from me. I was frustrated and confused, and eventually Grandmother stopped seeing me, too. Feeling so alone, I felt as if I had no escape. I wasn't allowed to go out unless it was supervised. I could not take the baby anywhere. It was madness.
"Dixie," Sean whispered. "Are you sure about this, honey?"
"Yes," I replied softly. "I need you tonight, I need you so badly, Sean."
His kisses moved down on my body as he lay me down on the bed. His touch was more demanding, more urgent, than anyone I had ever known. He kissed the tops of my breasts, pulling my shirt over my head not ungently. "Dixie, you've got beautiful breasts," he said softly, before pulling my nipple to his mouth to suckle. His hands roamed my flat stomach and upper thighs, not yet daring to reach for my heat, but aching to do it.
I unbuttoned his shirt, feeling every solid muscle underneath as I did so. Sean was pure strength, pure animal. I pulled his chest toward me and licked his nipple gently, causing him to cry out. "Jesus, Dixie," he said, smiling. His hands fumbled at his belt buckle and my own struggled with my skirt.
"Leave it on," he said breathlessly, commanding me. His voice aroused me even more and I reached under my skirt to take off my now wet panties. He reached for me, slid deep into me. I cried out in lust for him, crazed with his power and strength.
"Fuck me, Sean," I cried out senselessly. I felt like sobbing. This kind of feeling had been absent from my life since the first time I met Pierce. Nay, this kind of feeling had never been a part of my life. Pierce made me cry because his mind was penetrating my own while we made love. Sean was totally physical, his body and mine were moving so fast in rhythm that I could hardly tell where he left off and I began.
"Oh, baby, that's it girl, oh, oh I'm going to come honey, you want it?" he said breathlessly.
