Brad Harris - The secretary_s vacation

Sheri looked at the happy expression on Marianne's face and shuddered again. No, she wasn't happy that she had come down to New Orleans. A part of her had been resurrected, a part she would prefer to have kept buried. The blonde didn't like having to admit how much she had missed the fucking. She detested the thought that she might have been missing the cock more than the man. Why else would she have tumbled so unresistingly into bed with both Lee and Roy?

The brunette looked down at her, then patted her knee affectionately Marianne got up from the bed and began changing her clothes. Sheri watched her slip into a dramatic kaftan. The thin, flowing material covered everything and revealed everything at the same time. In fact it made Marianne's tits look twice as large. The brunette covered herself with strings of beads, then hung huge earrings on herself and turned for the blonde's inspection.

"Exotic!" Sheri admitted. "Absolutely exotic," There was such a sensual quality to the outfit. The girl looked as though she could fuck every man in town the same night. Woman! That's what she looked like. She was woman! She had tits to feed the world. Her lips were wide and sexy. Her black hair hung richly about her shoulders, framing Marianne's broad, sensuous face. She was a hell of a sexy broad in that dress. "Hell, you look good enough to keep here in the room with me tonight," Sheri laughed.

Marianne's eyes sparkled. Her body showed a hesitation, like she just might be persuaded to accept the offer. The blonde hopped up from the bed and selected her blouse and skirt. She had only intended to make a humorous remark, not to issue an invitation. She ignored the question in the brunette's eyes and slipped the skirt over her pale-green panties. She slipped into her blouse and concentrated on brushing her hair to a brilliant sheen. Finally, when she figured that Marianne had discounted her remark, she turned back to her friend and smiled warmly.

"All right, Chief," she laughed. "Lead us on!"

They found a small courtyard restaurant on Bourbon Street that had lower prices than they had learned to expect in New Orleans. The sound of jazz coming down the sheet mixed with the more erotic music from the various strip parlors to lend that exclusively Creole atmosphere to the Crawfish Etouffee. The courtyard was crowded with couples and singles, all getting themselves fortified for a night of rowdy celebration. Sheri leaned back in her chair and inhaled deeply of the moist air as the breeze filtered through the ancient buildings around the courtyard. The drink she had before dinner had left her glowing inside. The memory of the fucks earlier in the day sent a rippling sensation of pleasure through her body.

She had decided to accept her physical desires. Why should she punish herself because of one no-good musician? Besides, there could be no way she would be hurt by anything that happened down here. She didn't expect any involvement with any of the men. They were only cocks that happened to be available. Three days from now she would be gone back home, never to ever see them again. Why not get in a few good, innocent fucks? That's what Mardi Gras was all about, wasn't it? She thrust her tits against the blouse, aware of the eyes of a dozen men on them. She was aware of the eyes following the swing and twist of her ass as the two girls left the restaurant. It made her feel good. It made her feel damn good.

The elation lasted while they watched another of the interminable parades. The glow was still rippling through her body as they walked back into the Quarter. They were standing in the middle of the street, watching a group of jugglers perform, when she overheard a conversation along the sidewalk. She glanced over and saw the frightened expression on a girl's face as three men kept her cornered against one of the buildings.

"Now, baby," the taller man was saying as he intimidated the girl with his body, "all we want is a little pussy. We just want a fuck or two each. How about it? You know you didn't put on those pretty clothes just to be looked at. Shit! Look at how your nipples are already hard inside that sweater. Look at them, fellas. You ever seen tits get that tight unless the cunt wanted to be fucked?"

His companions laughed and moved closer to the girl. They looked like some group of toughs who must have come to Carnival just to see how much trouble they could cause. Sheri shuddered as she saw them hunch at the girl. The taller hoodlum was right against the girl, hunching himself against her while the other two stood beside him, keeping her pinned against the wall. Only her slender legs were visible to Sheri as the laughter and come talk grew louder.

"Mmmmm, feel those tits!" she heard one, of them laugh. "Damn, but she's a soft little bitch."

"Let's go!" the leader suddenly hissed. "Here comes the Blue Army!" The other two looked down the street where the crowds were parting before the march and four policemen with the largest sticks Sheri could imagine. The three men moved away from their intended victim. As they passed the blonde she could smell stale beer on them. They were muttering and laughing, upset over the loss of this girl but confident of catching another prey.

"She would have been good pussy," one complained. "That ass sure felt nice and firm."

"So would the jail cell," the leader grumbled. "Until you've been thrown in the New Orleans jail, you don't know what Hell is like. We'll find plenty of cunt tonight. We lose one, we'll get a dozen to make up for it."

Sheri sighed deeply in relief. She saw the young girl still leaning against the wall for support. Her skirt was crooked where they had lifted it. Her blouse had not been pulled back down all the way. The girl trembled, watching the hoodlums walk innocently through the crowd. Suddenly she began grinning back in the opposite direction. She had been lucky. Sheri was trembling as she remembered the time she hadn't been that fortunate.

She had stayed later than planned, helping some other girls with a class project. The teen-ager had been supposed to call her mother when she was ready to come home. A cycle gang had been seen around the suburban community recently and the parents were uneasy about any girls out after dark alone. There had been rumors of a few knifings and several rapes. The kids discounted it, feeling that it was mostly parental hysteria. None of the kids in school had had any trouble, nor did they know of anyone who had been hassled by the gang.

Sheri had tried to call home. She had tried three times, but kept getting a busy signal. She gave up and decided to walk. After all, it was only three blocks. What was there to worry about? She was even more certain as she told the girls good-bye and watched them walk off in the other direction. Hell, they all had much farther to go than she. She laughed at her mother's fears and turned the corner, walking happily along the dark street. She was so confident that she didn't even look a second time at the dark outline of the cycles in the vacant lot midway down the block. She certainly didn't see the dark-clad men who were lounging beneath the trees. She was unaware that they had seen her or that one of them had already slipped into the bushes along the sidewalk. She wasn't aware of any of this until she felt herself pulled roughly into the shadows. A rough hand clamped over her mouth.

"Make a sound," a coarse voice whispered in her ear, "and it'll be your last. I know how to use this knife I've got against your throat."

She felt the hot touch of the blade against her skin and leaned away from the knife, back into the arms of her captor. His hand eased off her mouth and waited to see if she was going to scream. Sheri felt him relax as she kept silent. He pulled her back into the vacant lot as his companions joined them.

"Get her back here where we can get at her," another voice muttered. "Shit! We don't want to fuck her on the damn sidewalk. Back here, back here in the frees."