Cold rain, wind and hail pummeled the city. The power had been out for some time. Jeanne didn't know the exact reason why. She didn't care. She was just pissed.
The entire city had shut down, traffic had come to a complete stop, she'd missed her meeting, and she was soaked to the bone. Jeanne could do nothing but shiver in her flimsy business suit as she scurried down the murky, old brick street of the French Quarter. She held her briefcase over her head as if that would somehow protect her from the driving rain.
Finally, she found shelter in the broken tile alcove of an old building that appeared to serve no other purpose than to set an example of how quickly neglected buildings deteriorate.
The woman dried her face with her sleeve, though that accomplished little. Her clothing was saturated. She brushed her short blonde hair back with the palms of her hands. Excess water ran down her neck and back giving her chills. She straightened her dripping garments, and then reached for the door hoping this run down old building was open to the public...and warm!
As she took the old iron, door handle in her hand, she noticed movement near the far wall of this decaying, old storefront. The movements were unmistakably familiar. She paused, and watched, suddenly spellbound by the hypnotically rhythmic motions within.
The dark, nebulous outline of an embracing couple stood out against a dingy white wall. A small, feminine form straddled the hips of a much larger masculine form. The woman's arms wrapped about the man's neck for support. His hands cupped the smooth, dark globes of her ass. They kissed passionately.
The man held her easily as he walked a few steps forward until the woman's back was pressed to the wall. His hips thrust forward and upward in time with their own sultry dance of desire.
The dark skin of the couple stood out from the graying walls, but the murky glass of the door window, and the low light kept Jeanne from seeing any detail. Yet, she stood there--transfixed, as if she were mesmerized by the couple's graceful motions. She could do no more than stare, torn between her desire to turn away, leaving these lovers to their private pleasures, or to indulge her own voyeuristic longings.
Finally, Jeanne pulled her eyes away from the couple. She looked back into the street. The rain continued to pour down obscuring all but the nearest objects. Nobody could be seen on the street even if there were someone to be seen. She wondered where the next nearest storefront was.
Jeanne reached out into the downpour. A small hailstone stung her palm. Her fingers felt numb. Never the less, she struggled to summon the courage to dart back out into the frigid tumult. But vague, sensuous images burned into her mind. She looked back to the sultry scene within.
Something obscure, intangible like the images themselves, held her in this cold, forlorn, little alcove.
Shaking, not so much from the cold as from an uncanny feeling of taboo, Jeanne returned her full attention to the impassioned silhouettes. Her hands began to drift slowly up her shivering sides until they came to rest on her full breasts. She rubbed and caressed each. She let her right hand drift inside her prim but drenched business suit and beneath her sheer bra. She cupped her left breast, and tweaked her nipple. Her hands responded to powerful desires arising from vague, mysterious compulsions that Jeanne couldn't quite pin down.
The couple inside had begun to move in faster, more persistent movements. They seemed to Jeanne as dark wraiths wavering indistinctly through the foggy, grimy, window glass like two exotic apparitions locked in a passionate embrace. Jeanne was swept up in their wantonness, and their yearning. Their carnal dance aroused a primal hunger within her. The pressure between her legs built. She rubbed them tightly together squeezing her seething sex. She felt the moisture collect as a single drop of her excitement oozed out, tickling her vaginal lips. With her left hand, she raised her short skirt, and rubbed her vaporous vagina.
Jeanne watched the big man swing his lusty lover away from the wall. He moved into the middle of the room, and lowered his petite companion to the top of a table.
Jeanne massaged her pussy lightly, but an even more demanding compulsion within her simmering sex needed to be satisfied. She pushed her damp panties aside. Her fingers slid inside. She continued to caress her breast as her right hand explored her damp crevasse slowly. The ball of her hand pressed firmly onto her swollen clitoris.
Her body reacted to each touch of her hands, and to each movement from the pair within the building in ways she had never before imagined. Despite the fierce cold and the driving rain, she felt a strange, calming warmth from within.
The dark woman inside lay back on the table with her legs high in the air. The man's chest and shoulders pressed against the back of her calves. His hips pulled back and thrust forward in short, quick strokes.
A low moan escaped Jeanne's lips when suddenly...
Another face appeared in front of her. Jeanne's moan turned to a gasp. Only the grimy glass and a few inches of empty air separated Jeanne's face from the handsome and distinctly masculine face of a smiling, middle-aged, black man.
The man pulled the door open.
Jeanne fumbled with her clothing trying to appear casual. She knew she had been caught, but still tried to hide her actions. This only made the man's smile broaden.
He held the door open.
Jeanne stood speechless. She didn't know what to say, or how to act. There was a beautiful couple moaning in the throes of ecstasy just a dozen feet away. An attractive, dark-skinned man held a door for her opening into warmth and shelter. The man never stopped smiling. Everything seemed so surreal.
The man gestured for her to follow. "Why don't you come on in here, girl, out of the cold?" His voice was deep, and as warm and inviting as his broad smile.
Jeanne nodded and stepped past him into the small barroom. Anything was better than the winter storm raging outside. She thanked the man in a quiet voice as she finished straightening her skirt. She began to re-button the top button of her suit. Then, she wondered why it mattered. She was sure the man at the door had seen quite enough, and that the couple at the table really wasn't interested at the moment.
The amorous couple looked over at the commotion by the door as the other man pushed it closed. The big, muscular man turned back to his lover as if nothing had changed. The woman smiled suggestively at Jeanne while she ran her hands across her lover's body as if to show off her prize.
With her new vantage point, Jeanne could now see the couple clearly, despite the wavering candlelight. She was struck by how exotically beautiful the woman was. Jeanne returned the woman's suggestive smile.
The old barroom itself wasn't much to write home about. The place seemed old and neglected. The floor was well worn hardwood. The masonry walls were cracked and dirty. An old Wurlitzer juke box stood out darkly from the yellowing wall on the far side of a small, parquet dance floor. In the dim light, the bright neon colors of the juke box were no more than gray hints of their true vibrancy.
