Road Trip! Ch. 08

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Day 11…

Suprisingly, we had both awakened before the eight AM alarm sounded, Marni starting the coffee pot brewing while I showered first. Noticing the several hickies and bite-marks that covered my boobies as I dried, Marni checked her own before getting in the shower, announcing, “Looks like we were attacked by a pack of small dogs.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” I chuckled in response, both of us eyeing our naked reflections in the bathroom’s mirror, numerous red marks on both of our bodies.

“Wonder if we left any marks on Gayle?” I mused as I began applying a small bit of makeup to my face.

“Don’t know how we couldn’t have,” Marni replied as she vigorously washed under the shower, “and if we didn’t, its not because we didn’t try.”

“True dat, girlfriend,” both of us chuckling at the truth of the statement.

Keys dropped off to Slyvia after we had triple-checked the duplex for forgotten stuff, we were leaving Gulf Shores in our rearview mirror by nine o’clock that Wednesday morning, beginning our drive to New Orleans.

“I’m fucking starving, Jules, let’s grab some breakfast, okay babe?” Marni implored, her suggestion finding agreement from my grumbling stomach. Spotting a small 24-hour grill called The Waffle House, I pulled into the lot.

“You’re okay, right?” Marni asked before letting me open my door, her hand on my arm.

“Yeah babe, I’m very much okay…you?” I replied.

“If you’re okay, then I’m great,” She answered with a sweet smile of relief.

“Yeah, you are, sweetie,” The agreement pleasing my ‘girlfriend’.

Her phone sounded just as we placed our order, and looking at the screen, she scrunched up her face a bit, saying, “Huh, its Sue, wonder what’s up?”

“WHAT? Oh Jeez, Sue, I’m so, so sorry,” Marni said with a face reflecting concern, “Is there anything we can do?…I know, I know…Don’t be silly, Sue, of course not…Yes, we have all of your information and yes, we will stay in touch…yes, and Sue? Please give our condolences to Susan will you? Of course…yes, love y’all too, and again, we are so sorry for Susan’s loss,” Marni’s end of the conversaton producing looks from me of ‘What? What’s up?’.

“Susan’s mother passed away this morning…heart attack is what the docs think,” Marni informed me after disconnecting with Sue.

“How awful,” I said, shocked a bit at the news, Marni nodding, “It was sweet that Sue thought to call us, you know, with all the confusion and drama that must be going on at their place.”

“Yeah, it was,” Marni said in agreement, “Well, sweet-cheeks, looks as if we need a plan ‘B’.”

“We could still ‘do’ New Orleans,” I suggested, “we were talking about doing it before we met the Sues.”

Marni was already on her IPad thanks to the WiFi signal she was stealing from a source near the grill, searching hotels.

“Want to stay in the middle of the French Quarter?” She asked, looking up, “Just found a deal at a boutique hotel and they have private parking…wouldn’t need to drive once we get there if we just hang in the Quarter.”

“Do it,” I agreed just as the waitress delivered our order, small bowls of ‘something’ placed next to our plates of bacon and eggs.

“What’s that?” I asked with a nod towards the small bowl.

Looking at me as if I had just stepped off of a Flying Saucer, she replied, “Them’s grits!” then, seeing the confused look remaining on our faces, added, “Y’all aren’t from around here, are y’all?”

After adding salt, pepper and butter, the ‘grits’ weren’t half-bad, we thought…

The drive on I-10 was pleasant, the day bright with sun in a cloudless sky, and the sun-roof of the Beemer opened. We made pleasant, mindless chit-chat, our speed actually a few miles per hour under the limit, this day of travel for us unrushed since our destination was only a couple of hours away.

“This has been a great trip, Jules, you have no idea how happy I am that you asked me to come along for the ride,” Marni remarked casually.

“When I began thinking about it, the trip, my first thought was to ask you,” I answered, “must’ve been Fate pulling the strings.”

“Yeah, kinda’ what I think, Fate…” Marni mused wistfully, but not in a bad way, “Fate seems to have wanted us together on this trip.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, “Glad She was on our side.”

“Me too, Jules…me too,” and leaning towards me, Marni gave me a sweet cheek-kiss that turned loose fluttering butterflies within me…

Our hotel ‘fronted’ Bourbon Street it turned out, though the check-in entrance was located on a side street, around the corner, where the valets unloaded us and parked our car while we checked in.

The room was furnished with period furniture, heavy and massive, and tall, floor to ceiling, patio doors that opened to a balcony overlooking the famed street, providing a ‘bird’s-eye’ view of the walking traffic below.

We quickly unpacked and was downstairs joining the early afternoon tourist parade walking along casino siteleri Bourbon. With a hotel-provided map of the Quarter in hand, we decided to do our own walking tour.

“Over there, Jules, we ought to try ’em,” Marni suggested, referring to a service window of a bar that was serving drinks and beers to pedestrians, Bourbon blocked-off to vehicle traffic for several blocks we were to find.

We had noticed many cups of what appeared to be Bloody Marys in the hands of our fellow walkers so that’s what we ordered, both loving the fact that walking around with alcohol in hand seemed to be the norm here in The Crescent City.

“Damn, girlfriend, this is seriously good,” Marni opined after her first sip of the potent cocktail, the sign having proclaimed their Bloody Mary to be a French Quarter ‘walking meal’, loaded with celery sticks, olives and what turned out to be, sticks of pickled Okra and green beans.

The strolling was festive, the two hundred-plus years-old buildings pleasing to the senses. We were making our way towards the Margaritaville Cafe for a mid-afternoon ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise’ and were walking on Royal Street, passing high-end Antique shops along the way.

One had a large, black ribbon tacked across the double-doors of it’s entry, a sign proclaiming the store to be closed due to a death in the family.

“Must be Susan’s place,” I opined, “too much of a coincidence for it not to be,” Marni nodding in agreement. Peeking through the windows we could see that it was, indeed, a ‘high-end’ Antique shop as Susan had said.

Our thought was that a mid-afternoon meal would help diminish the buzz we had going, and it probably would have had we not downed two huge Margaritas with the meal.

We found our way to our hotel, both with our third Bloodies in hand, the buzz having returned to us.

“Don’t remember the last time I was this buzzed at four o’clock in the afternoon,” Marni giggled, a cute, small, drunk-giggle, walking into our room ahead of me.

“Or,” I chimed in, “this horny,” slipping the ‘Do Not Disturb’ placard on the outside doorknob of our room.

Marni turned towards me with a silly little sly grin on her face, saying, “Awwww, you want some of this, sugar? Is that what you want?” squeezing her boobs through her tee with her hands, teasingly.

“Uh-huh,” I replied simply while pulling my tee over my head, dropping it to the floor, then unsnapping my bra, throwing it to the floor as well, followed by my shorts and panties.

“Didn’t get enough of me last night, sugar? Or Gayle?” She said teasingly, but removing her shorts and panties while doing so, then laying on the bed with her legs spread, she cooed “C’mon Jules, come get some of this.”

“For the record,” I said after I had tasted my first mouthful of her honey-pot, “It appears that I can’t get enough of you if this past week is an indicator…our romp with Gayle has nothing to do with anything,” then dropping my mouth to her snatch, I resumed my cunnilingus.

“Oooh…yeeeaaaah…but, that’s a good thing, Jules…aaaah, oh God….isn’t it?” She cooed as she moved her hips in rhythm with my chewing mouth.

“Uh-huh,” I replied as her hands pulled my head hard against her pussy, muffling my reply, her hips grinding like a mill wheel, her orgasm but a few minutes away.

She was curled up against me, asleep, my juices showing wet around her mouth, her breasts wet and red from my bite marks. I set the alarm of my cell phone for eight, thinking it’d be a nice three-hour nap.

I was sliding down to nuzzle with her, but paused to look at her again, to take in the sight of her nakedness.

Staring at her cute face just before sleep overtook me, I realized that I was the happiest I’d ever been with another human being in my twenty-eight years on the planet.

And, that was a very good thing…

We joined the moving mass of street-walkers a little after 9:30 that evening. We woke, showered and ordered room service for a bite as we readied ourselves for our Walk of Shame on Bourbon Street.

Bourbon Street at night is a whole other animal from the daytime Bourbon, that was for sure! At night, fuck the old homes and clubs and shit, at night it was all about the moving throngs of drunks and revelers, they were the show.

“What a fucking party!” Marni said loudly in order to be heard over the noise of raucous laughter and music from small bars and clubs, not to mention the loud voices of our fellow walkers.

Nodding in agreement, I said, “I’ve heard it said that Mardi Gras in New Orleans should be a ‘must-do’ on your bucket list.”

“Something to think about, girlfriend,” She smilingly replied.

Somehow, we became a part of a group of younger, college-aged cuties, random conversation between us as we walked sorta’ contributing to us joining the stroll along with them.

“Where’d ya’ get those beads,” Marni asked one of the gals, Becky, “they’re cute as hell, I’d like to buy some for a souvenir.”

“Buy ’em? Oh, hell no, yüksek bahisli casinolar honey, you don’t buy these,” the cute young thing laughingly said, “Watch!”

Stopping in the middle of the street, our group stopped with her, the crowd of walkers parting around us. She faced the overhead balcony of a bricked-faced house which had a dozen or so people standing, with drinks, watching the crowd below.

When one of the women on the balcony pointed to Becky, saying something to the gal next to her, Becky grabbed the bottom of her tee and pulled it up, flashing a gorgeous pair of boobies, shaking them side to side.

All of a sudden, strings of beads came flying down from the balcony group, all of ’em laughing and toasting Becky, some snapping phone-pics of her bare tits. Dropping her tee back down, she picked up her rewards, helped by the rest of us.

“That’s how you get these, sugar, you don’t buy ’em,” adding her new strings to the others already around her neck. Looking at her friends, they all had beads as well.

“Y’all are the only ones in our group without beads,” Beth, the pretty little red-haired one said.

“Gonna’ have to do something about that, Jules,” Marni piped up to say, drawing laughter from us all.

We did.

Within the next hour, Marni and I, along with Beth and a couple of the other girls in our group, flashed a few more balcony-dwellers, resulting in strings of beads raining down upon us. Several times, we posed for phone-pics from passing pedestrians, all of our group laughing our asses off at ourselves.

Lotta’ fun, actually.

We stayed with the girls for the rest of the evening, even joining them at some dive-bar/grill, off of Bourbon by a couple of blocks, to satisfy our late-night, alcohol-fueled cravings for greasy-but good!-roast beef po’boy sandwiches.

“Looks like Becky won the contest for the most strings of beads,” I commented as we ate the sandwiches like gluttons, manners be damned.

“Oh hell, since her momma’ bought ’em for her eigthteenth birthday,” Beth piped up to say while chewing her bite, “Bitch’s been showing ’em to everyone.”

I damned near choked on the bite I had just swallowed I was laughing so hard, along with the rest of the table I might add.

Appetites satisfied and somewhat sobered up, we parted with our college cuties amidst hugs and cheek kisses. Waving them goodbye, Marni and I returned to our hotel, proudly wearing, and twirling, our Mardi Gras beads, having earned them ‘officially’.

We hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob again and had what can only be described as ‘Jungle Sex’, that night…

Day 12…

“Uuuuugggh,” Marni mumbled with her face in the pillow that next morning.

The only reason I heard her is that I was already up and had just washed my face and brushed my teeth after throwing up in the toliet.

“This is the mother of all hang-overs,” I said softly, both of us nursing pounding headaches that next morning.

“Think I’m going to skip the partying today girlfriend, if you don’t mind,” Marni moaned as she poured us another cup of the rich, dark, chicory-laced coffee delivered by room service.

“For damn sure,” I agreed, wincing as the hot liquid touched my tongue…

The only reason we were on the street at noon was that the housekeepers really needed to clean our room. Following the directions given to us by the helpful desk clerk, we had lunch at a ‘locals’ favorite, off of Bourbon, but still in the Quarter.

On the way Marni picked up a few brochures of attractions and such from a stand outside of a small corner grocery. We looked through them while we ate, the food making us feel almost human again.

“This looks like fun,” Marni remarked then sliding a pamphlet to me to look over. It was advertising a river cruise on a paddle-wheeled riverboat and gave the times of departure.

“Hmmm,” I mused, “Could be…sit out on the deck, catch some rays, but mostly, not drink? Yeah, you could be right…I think we can make the 3 PM slot,” sliding the pamphlet back to her.

“Grab a cab?” Marni suggested.

“Absolutely, I’m in no mood to drive,” I grumbled, but smiling just the same…

The vibration of the powerful engines that powered the paddle wheels almost lulled me into sleep as we reclined on the top deck of the steamer in deck chairs.

“Really is a big-assed river,” I commented idly, the river about a mile wide, the tour-guide had announced over the steamer’s sound system.

While most of the passengers walked from side to side to look as the guide announced this attraction or that attraction as the steamer made its way through barge traffic and such, Marni and I stayed put in our deck-chairs, faces turned towards the bright sunlight, eyes closed and sunglasses on.

“What’cha want to do tonight?” She asked.

“Don’t want to drink, that’s for sure,” I replied, feeling better after eating lunch, but still not great.

“Want to grab a light dinner mobil casino at the place we saw yesterday, the one by that square where all the artists were set up?” She asked, her voice lazy.

“That’ll work,” I said in agreement, “Maybe, walk the square afterwards, check out the art and shit?”

“Uh-huh,” She replied, “Get a good night’s sleep before we hit the road tomorrow?”

“Uh-huh,” I answered lazily, “Speaking of which, still want to ‘do’ Austin?”

“I was thinking about that…how would you feel about heading towards Vegas and spending a couple of days there instead?”

Huh. Never thought about that…it’d been a few years since I’d gone to Vegas.

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” I chimed in to say, “We could do that,” quickly deciding that we could.

We were awakened by the steamer bumping against its wharf, the jolt shaking us in our deck-chairs, both of us having fallen asleep at some point.

“Wonder how much interesting shit we missed out on?” Marni mused as we wended our way down the gang-plank to the landing, along with our fellow tourists.

“Don’t really care, babe, the nap felt good,” I replied.

“Yeppers,” She replied with a smile to me…

Consulting our handy-dandy map of the Quarter, we saw that there was a trolley stop nearby and that the trolley would carry us back to the Quarter along a railway that traveled on top of the levee that kept the river at bay.

It was a very pleasant, but somewhat quick, ride back to the stop that would put us at the square, Jackson Square, the railstop proclaimed. Finding the restaurant we had passed yesterday, Marni and I ‘chanced’ a Mimosa while perusing the menu. Lured by the description of the dish, we both ordered Crawfish Etoufee, the dish so good we were tempted to lick our plates clean.

“Let’s walk around the square for a bit,” I suggested to my travel-pal, “Walk off the meal.”

Slipping her arm through mine, Marni leaned her head against my arm, saying, “Do with me as you will, oh mistress of mine, I’m yours to command.”

“That could be a dangerous statement, girlfriend,” I teased with a gentle pat to her arm through mine.

“Not with you, Jules, not with you…” She replied, a bit absent-mindedly, since she was now looking at some of the art works displayed on the wrought-iron fencing of Jackson Square, the artists set up in front of their works, some painting, some talking with passers-by and such.

Most were good and some, not-so-much. Lots of activity around the square with mimes, live-statues and street musicians doing their thing.

“Wonder if this was like the hippie-days of the 60s was like,” I mused as we took it all in.

“Probably…oh, look, another palm-reader,” Marni replied, “Want to get read?” her voice clearly indicating that she did, for sure.

The ‘reader’ was an attractive Afro-woman of inderminate age, her skin almost flawless in its smoothness, her coif, immacualte, and dressed in what I supposed was tribal colors.

She gave a quick synopsis of VooDoo and New Orleans, told us of Marie Laveaux, the famed VooDoo Queen immortalized in song and script. She also ran a herbal shop, specializing in potents and cures, all heavily steeped in VooDoo ritualism, she informed us.

She read Marni first, long life-line and such, the sort of stuff you would expect to hear at a street-reading. But when she took my palm in her hand to read, she suddenly closed her eyes, her body sorta’ weaving slightly.

Opening her eyes quickly, she took Marni’s hand again, placing it next to mine and holding onto us both.

“There is power with the two of you, a joining of your souls, again,” She said softly as she stared at our palms.

“Again?” Marni asked.

“You were lovers, long ago, in a past life,” She intoned, her face serious, her tone somber. “You are lovers once again, destined to be so for all time,” She said in finality, releasing our hands from hers.

She refused our payment to her, accepting only after I forced the bills into her hand. Grasping our hands in hers, she kissed each, saying, “Have a good life, children.”

We walked back to our hotel, neither of us saying a word, the weight of her words making our minds churn, I remember thinking. As we approached the side-street entrance of the hotel, Marni stopped me with a hand to my arm.

“Lucky guess, you think?” She asked, referring to the reader’s words to us.

“Don’t know…but she was eerily ‘spot-on’, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah…she was,” Marni commented, her voice revealing that she was definitely thinking about it…

The shower was really not large enough for both of us to shower at the same time, comfortably. We flipped for ‘firsties’ and I won. In all honesty, the whole time I showered my mind was on the reader’s words, truly wondering about what she had revealed to us.

When Marni joined me on our bed after her shower, she picked up her IPad for some ‘net surfing as I was doing. We had the patio doors opened to the din rising from the Bourbon Street ‘walkers’ but finally closed them because of the increasing volume. Turning on the bedside radio, we found a hometown PBR station that played the music of the city, jazz, blues, very pleasant, really.

“What’cha looking at?” Marni asked absent-mindly as she continued to look at her IPad.

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