The Professional

"It has all natural ingredients," Marcel said. "Only my uncle knows what they are. It was passed down to him from our family's generations."

"Well, he could bottle that stuff and make a fortune."

"It's not for profit, Lucas. Only pleasure."

Her speaking the word pleasure got me going again. I leaned over her and tasted her sweet, tender lips. Her kiss flipped the switch and the fighter was back on his feet, ready to kick ass. I moved over Marcel. She opened her legs and gave me what I needed.

We merged some more.

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Thursday, August 25, 2005

Bourbon Street

Night

"What's your major?" I asked Marcel's sister. I had to almost yell in her ear so that she could hear me over the noise.

Marcel's sister, whose name was Auriel, leaned to me and said, "Education!"

We were walking down Bourbon Street. Marcel was right. At night this didn't even look like the same street.

The people were crowded on the sidewalk and on the street almost shoulder to shoulder. No way in hell could a car get down here. The police moved through the crowd on horseback. Music seemed to be coming from everywhere. On one part of a block you might hear rock music. A few steps down the street you heard R&B, or jazz, or Zydeco, the sound originated by Creoles. And then there were the aromas of food wafting from the various restaurants. Everything smelled absolutely delicious.

I was walking with Marcel and her sister on either side of me. Auriel looked like a younger but taller version of her big sister. She was fine, too, but in an entirely different way. Marcel possessed the kind of beauty that would make a man say, "Damn, I want her." But this girl Auriel, she'd make many men say, "I have to have her." It wasn't just that she was beautiful. She had that vibe about her.

"So you want to be a teacher?" I asked Auriel.

She said, "Yes...I want to teach small children...to help them on the right path while they're young."

I said, "Good for you."

Marcel said, "Her problem is that she has no idea where she wants to teach. She can't make up her mind."

I looked back to Auriel. "So you don't want to stay here in New Orleans?"

We were in between the loudest areas of music now. Auriel stopped and looked at me. "The storm is telling me that New Orleans isn't the place for me to be," she said.

"You mean that hurricane down in Florida?"

Auriel nodded.

I said, "But the weather people are predicting that tomorrow it's going to fizzle back down to a tropical storm."

Auriel nodded. "Yes, and then it will come back, and it will come here. You should leave tomorrow, Lucas, before it's too late to get out."

"I told him," Marcel said.

Okay, these sisters were fine as hell, but they were a little off the edge of the road, too.

"Where are you from?" Auriel asked me.

"New Jersey -- a city on the coast called Long Branch."

Auriel shivered like she'd caught a chill, even though the night was sweltering.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes...yes I'm fine," she said.

Marcel looked at her little sister, hard. "Did you see something?" she asked.

Auriel said, "La Branche longue sent intéresser."

Marcel shook her head. "But that's so far away, Auriel."

Auriel shrugged and walked on. We followed.

The next music that filled the night was percussion...congas, bongos, other instruments I didn't recognize. A bunch of brothers who looked like they were from Africa were throwing down on their rhythm. Auriel began moving her sexy body to the beat, and turned around and smiled at her sister.

Marcel threw up her hands and wiggled up to Auriel. They danced together with a familiarity that only sisters who'd spent their lives dancing together can know. Their moves reminded me of the dancers I'd seen at carnival in Brazil, but also of something one might see in Africa. Their bodies moved in sensuous, sexual motion, feminine movements that must have been created at the dawn of time for one purpose -- to lure; to entice. I looked around and saw that every man in the vicinity had stopped to watch.

Marcel and Auriel moved their hips as if they were taking a lover. They moved with closed eyes and hands caressing themselves as if in a fever of passion.

They danced and smiled together, sometimes so close that their bodies nearly touched. They gazed into each other's eyes as if the other was the object of their most erotic desires. Their faces drew closer...their lips almost touching. Auriel flicked out her tongue, licked her full, sensuous lips. Just a little closer...

The crowd watched in hushed anticipation...

And then the sisters danced away from each other, laughing the way they must have laughed when they were little girls. The spell was broken. The crowd moved on.

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We walked back to my hotel, where Auriel had left her car. After we'd said our "nice meeting you's" and then our goodbyes Auriel said to Marcel, "Our flight is at four-thirty. Don't forget, Marcel." Then she gave me a sly smile and said, "And don't let Lucas keep you here, no matter how good he is."

I took Marcel back up to my suite. We finished off her uncle's wine and merged our bodies again. She was so amazing. I thought about having to leave Louisiana and going back to Jersey without her.

Kidnapping did cross my mind.

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I fell asleep with Marcel wrapped in my arms. I dreamed of water. A lot of water. I woke up in the middle of the night, gasping.

I took a flight out of New Orleans back to New Jersey the next day.

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Long Branch, New Jersey

The Cutting Edge Salon

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Afternoon

"I don't know why in the hell anybody would build a city at the bottom of a bowl with the damn ocean sitting at the rim," Freddie said. "To hell with a levee. They been asking for trouble since day one, if you ask me. Why the hell do you build a city at the bottom of a bowl?"

I was sitting in Freddie's chair as he cut my hair. Everybody in the salon had their eyes glued to the television screen, looking at the devastation Hurricane Katrina had delivered to New Orleans. The city was underwater. Too many people had tried to evacuate too late. Hundreds were dead, maybe thousands. Nobody would know how many for weeks, maybe months, until everyone was accounted for, dead or alive. The talking heads on the news were already trying to figure out who was most to blame.

I wondered about Sherry Nichols. I wondered if she'd had the good sense to leave her precious house and go to safety. No doubt her daughter would have tried to convince her to go.

I'd been skeptical about Marcel's sister's prediction of how bad the storm was going to be when the so-called experts were saying otherwise. But that dream I had while I held Marcel in my arms convinced me to leave New Orleans.

I'm not necessarily superstitious or a believer in signs, but that dream hit me hard. Maybe it was that wine. Or maybe it was because Marcel was so close to me that night...and she was Auriel's sister. I don't know. But we are descendants of Africa. Our ancestors believed in some strange things. They believed for a reason.

Who am I to question?

© 18 May 2009

The Black