Cold rain, wind and hail pummeled the city. The power had been out for some time. Jeanne didnt know the exact reason why. She didnt care. She was just pissed.
The entire city had shut down, traffic had come to a complete stop, shed 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 womans arms wrapped about the mans 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 womans 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 sto... Læs hele novellen
