New Orleans, Louisiana
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Morning
I was chilling on a lounger in Sherry's back yard. It was warm out, but it was early and the sun hadn't kicked in full force. By the time it did we'd be back inside, probably sexing each other some more. That was cool, but this was my first time in New Orleans and I'd hoped to see more of the city. But as soon as Sherry picked me up at the airport on Friday she'd only been about one thing: Sex. So the only part of New Orleans I'd seen was from the inside of her Bentley as we rode from the airport to her estate.
Sherry has a nice place, courtesy of having had a better lawyer than her ex-husband in their bitter divorce war. From what she'd told me, this house had been in his family for three generations. She took it from him out of spite. She got the Bentley, a Maybach and a ton of cash, too. If you want to applaud her you can say that she didn't do too badly for a woman whose last job was as a waitress at Denny's when she was twenty years old. That was twenty years ago. I know all this because she told me. She brags incessantly about how she took her ex to the cleaners. Not that I cared or wanted to hear about her marriage. I was getting paid to fuck her. But listening to a woman's issues often comes with the job. Some women want to do more talking than fucking. I don't care; the pay is the same.
I was sipping cranberry juice and watching Sherry swim laps in her in-ground pool. She was stroking like she was training for The Olympics. Her naked brown body cut the glimmering blue water like a shark. Not bad for a forty year-old sister.
When she reached the near end of the pool she stopped and smiled at me and blew me a kiss. I gave her a "thumbs up" sign. She called out, "I bet that white bitch of his can't swim like this," and pushed off for more laps.
I shook my head. Sherry's ex-husband's new wife was white, and that pissed her off to no end. My gut told me that during her divorce settlement she went after her ex-husband's family home because she wanted to have a hold on him, something that would lure him back to her. That's why three years after her divorce she was still talking about him non-stop.
His remarrying must have killed her hope of reconciliation. And to marry a white chick? Sherry probably wanted to take him to court again so she could go after his liver and kidneys. And it's probably not a coincidence that the dude remarried two weeks ago, and last week Sherry hired me to come down and spend a week fucking her. I guess she wanted to show him, at least in her own heart.
Sherry reached the far end of the pool and climbed out. Even from a distance her heart-shaped ass looked nice. I was lying there naked with my dick half hard. Seeing her booty pushed my desire up a notch, to about three-quarter strength.
I watched her as she climbed up the diving platform ladder. Based on her swimming over the past few days, this meant she was about finished with her morning swim. She'd usually take a dive and do one more lap before calling it quits.
She stood at the edge of the platform with her arms outstretched, looking like some kind of naked Nubian goddess under the morning sun. I took a look around. This mansion sat on five acres bordered by thick stands of trees. The odds were slim that anyone would see her out here naked, even though she was up high right now. I got the feeling that Sherry wouldn't give a damn if all of Louisiana could see her.
She gathered herself and leaped high into the air with her arms outstretched like a graceful bird. As she descended she brought her arms down and her hands together like the tip of a spear. She hit the water perfectly, barely making a splash.
I heard footsteps behind me and looked around. Sherry's housekeeper and cook had come out to the patio and was heading our way. She was a cute Creole sister in her twenties named Marcel. I took a quick moment to check out her nice legs and the shapely body that she kept hidden under a maid's uniform and apron, and then turned back to the pool. Sherry resurfaced in the middle of the pool and was swimming our way.
As Marcel passed me she said, "Good morning sir." She spoke with a slight Cajun accent. As I looked at her she cut her eyes away quickly, apparently embarrassed at seeing me out here with nothing on.
I said, "Good morning, Marcel," and checked out her body from the rear as she stepped to the pool. Three-quarters went to fully loaded.
I noticed that Marcel held a cordless phone in her hand. As Sherry climbed out of the pool she said, "You have a call," and handed her the phone.
Sherry walked away to have some privacy as she talked on the phone. I watched her as she walked naked toward the grass. The morning sun made the water droplets on her body glisten like she'd been sprinkled with a thousand tiny diamonds. Her skin looked like jewel-encrusted chocolate. Sexy.
Marcel waited for Sherry to finish her call, making sure that she kept her back to me. I was tempted to say something to mess with her, but Sherry seemed like the very jealous type. She'd paid Asad for my services in advance. In thirty-two years in the game no woman had ever asked for her money back after receiving my services. I wasn't about to blow my record by playing games with the help, no matter how fine the help happened to be.
Sherry finished her call and came back to us. I gaped at her bouncing titties as she walked, and at the swell of her hips and the way the droplets of pool water glistened in the trimmed patch of black hair over her pussy. She didn't seem to care in the least that Marcel was seeing us naked.
"That was my daughter," Sherry explained. "She lives in Miami, which makes no sense because she's terrified of storms. There's some little tropical storm named Katrina or something in the Bahamas that might reach Florida, so she's flying up here tomorrow to wait it out. So while she's here I'll put you up in a hotel, Lucas. It shouldn't be for more than a day or so. I'm sure this will end up being nothing but a little rain in Florida for a day. Then she'll go back and I'll send for you."
That was cool with me. A couple of days break from Sherry would give me a chance to check out New Orleans. I specifically wanted to see Bourbon Street. That place was supposed to be a non-stop party. And for some reason that name intrigued me even back when I was a little kid and used to watch a cop show called Bourbon Street Beat. I'd been all over the world in my life, for business and for pleasure. I could have come down at any time over the past decades to visit New Orleans, but just never got around to it. You know how the saying goes: Life is what happens while you're making other plans. Like five minutes earlier I thought I'd be spending the week in Sherry's house, and more specifically in her pussy. Now I had time to see the city.
Life is always full of surprises.
As Sherry handed the phone back to Marcel, Marcel said, "Breakfast will be ready in a half an hour, Miss Nichols." She was looking at Sherry and making sure that she kept her back to me. Maybe seeing her employer naked wasn't a new thing for her. That thought made some ideas pop into my head -- things I wouldn't mind seeing that had nothing to do with touring New Orleans.
Sherry said, "Hold breakfast for an hour, please." Then she grinned over at me and said, "I need an appetizer before the main course."
Sherry walked around Marcel to me. She grabbed a condom packet off the patio table next to the lounger and used her teeth to rip it open. Then she leaned over me and rolled the latex skin onto my dick. I looked around Sherry and caught Marcel sneaking a peek. Busted, she looked away in a hurry.
Sherry was still dripping wet from the pool as she straddled me and sank down onto my hardness. Her pussy was wet, too. I gripped her hips and pushed up into her heat. She gripped the top of the lounger backrest and grunted, "Uh, damn!"
Yeah, I know.
Her titties were hanging right in front of my eyes, swaying as she slid up and down on me. Their heft caressed my face. Her nipples were still stiff from her swim in the cool water, and were inviting me to have a taste. As I started to lick and suck them I heard Marcel's crepe-soled footsteps fading back toward the house as she made herself scarce.
I looked up at Sherry. "I think she was embarrassed," I said.
"Marcel?"
"Yes."
"So what? I pay her very well to do her job and stay out of my business," Sherry repositioned herself over me, moving from her knees to squatting over me on her feet to get better leverage. Then she started riding me for real.
Not bad for forty.
"I bet that white bitch can't do him like this," she said. "I bet she can't -- hey!"
