Kayden: The Past (24 page)

Me: Yes and you?

Carrie: Just outside of NOLA but close enough to meet up.

Me: Nice rack. You looking for a relationship?

Carrie: LMFAO. Fuck no, why the hell do you think I’m on this site.

So far, she passed my test with flying colors. No relationship, check. Hot as hell, check. Dirty mouth, check. Doesn’t live too close so clinginess wouldn’t be a factor, check.

Me: I just want to be clear about it. I don’t want a relationship; I’m done with the bullshit.

Carrie: Good. Listen, I want someone to scratch my itch, but I’d like to meet for a drink first – in public. I want to know you aren’t some kind of weirdo or pervert, well at least not the bad kind.

So she wasn’t a dummy. Things were looking up.

Me: Let’s meet for a drink down in the quarter. I’m new to the area and would like to enjoy some of the city. You game?

Carrie: Yes, can I bring some friends?

All the guys here were single, except one, and it sounded like a perfect idea.

Me: Sure and I’ll bring some of the guys. We’ll make it a group thing.

Carrie: Great! Saturday night good? Let’s say around nine at the Hustler Club.

The girl liked strip clubs. Couldn’t go wrong.

Me: We’ll be there. I’ll let you know if something changes.

It was Thursday, but I knew the guys would be game for a night out. We sat here every night and had drinks, but I knew they’d like to get out and be surrounded by ladies and naked strippers. I carried my tablet out into the living room and sat down on the couch; the guys were all watching television, busy with their own online entertainment. I looked around the room and felt sorry for the ladies we were about to meet. They weren’t the best looking group of guys and gross in so many ways. They laid around the living room in their underwear with their bellies hanging out and their hand down their pants. It was more than a little disturbing; I needed to see a naked woman in person instead of these burping, snoring, belly scratching things I’ve become surrounded by.

“Guys, who’s up for Hustler Club on Saturday night? Have a group of ladies we’re meeting.” They all looked at me; I had their full and undivided attention. Pussy always made everything else cease to exist. “You guys in?”

“What ladies?” Tom asked.

“I met a girl online, but she wants to meet in public first. She picked Hustler, and she’s going to bring some friends.”

“Really?” Tom seemed to be thinking about it, but I knew he hadn’t been laid in ages just by looking at him.

“Yes, I told her I’d bring friends. Listen, even if her friends aren’t your type, we’ll be in a titty bar having drinks. How bad could it be?”

“I’m in,” Tom said, and all the guys answered the same.

“Nine, Saturday night,” I said as I walked in the kitchen and grabbed a beer.

“Finally, something interesting going on in this damn place,” Mark said. “I don’t want to spend another Saturday night looking at your ugly mugs. T & A it is.”

Tomorrow was Friday and thankfully my first pay day. I needed the money to buy some fucking clothes and pay for a night out in New Orleans. The guys were nice enough to share their food with me all week. I cooked as much as possible since they went to the trouble of buying the food. Most guys can’t cook worth shit, but my mom taught me how to fend for myself and cook a decent meal. Food and drinks were plentiful in this place but not always the best quality at least when it came to food. The liquor was always top shelf – Patron, Myers, and Grey Goose.

I had something to look forward to this weekend, something other than work. I’d hopefully meet someone looking for the same – a night of passion.

I bought a new pair of jeans, shoes, and a skin tight black t-shirt to wear to Hustler. I wanted to show off my body and all I had to offer. I didn’t want to leave anything to the imagination. I shaved my head smooth as a baby’s ass and trimmed my facial hair to perfection. I looked at myself in the mirror, and fuck it, I knew I looked good. If Carrie wasn’t game or advertised herself incorrectly, I’d find some hot piece of ass in NOLA tonight. Everyone else had already showered; thankfully, we had two bathrooms, a necessity with this group.

I walked into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. “What the fuck are you wearing, dude?” I asked Tom.

He looked down at his shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Where the fuck do I begin?” I laughed while shaking my head. He looked like a scene out of some cheesy porn. He had on baggy pants and an oversized t-shirt that had a print of the beach and palm trees. Not just a print, but the entire thing was a scene, a photo of the beach. He looked like a walking disaster, and he definitely wouldn’t be getting any pussy in that outfit.

“Fucker, I just bought this shirt. I think I look damn good.”

“First problem is you thought. Where the fuck did you buy it? Walmart?” I started to laugh so hard tears were forming in my eyes. The poor guy was dead serious. He honestly thought he looked good, and it made me laugh even harder.

“Fuck you, Kayden. I’m wearing it. You’ll see; I’m going to be a pussy magnet tonight.” The other guys in the room were all laughing and shaking their heads. No one else had the heart to tell Tom that he looked ridiculous; his outfit just made them look better. “And what the fuck is wrong with Walmart’s clothes anyway, dick?” I had no words, just grabbed my keys and headed out the door with the guys in tow, and Tom pulling up the rear.

We rolled out of the apartment parking lot just after eight to catch the street car down to Bourbon. I’d already been through the city during my work day, but I hadn’t experienced it at night. The street car stop buzzed with excitement. People were dressed in all types of outfits, corsets and miniskirts to casual shorts and tank tops. I heard anything goes down in the quarter, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.

The streetcar was packed with people, standing room only, as we made our way down Canal Street. The streets were filled with people and cars, all looking to make their way down to the action, the place to be seen and party until you could hardly stand without help from another. Drinks weren’t my goal tonight, finding Carrie and taking in the sights of NOLA were on the menu.

The streetcar stopped, and Mark nudged me, “This is our stop. Bourbon is right there.” He pointed to the left, and I could see a street filled with lights and what looked like an endless sea of people. I’d never lived in a city that had been known for its nightlife and party atmosphere. Cleveland had a so-so night scene back in the nineties but had deteriorated over time, and Florida didn’t have shit to offer but snow birds and Grand Marquis.

I followed the stream of people across the street and soaked in New Orleans. The smell of the city is unlike any other place I’ve ever known. There’s a spiciness to it, an aroma of alcohol, sex, and Cajun flare. Men lined the streets with signs offering oversized beers and the most beautiful girls through the door behind them. Everyone fought for business and attention. Girls lined the doorways in just a few strips of clothing, grinding on the frame trying to tempt the passersby.

I knew in that moment I would be fucking dead if I grew up in this city or moved here in a different time in my life. There’s too much sin available on every corner; I would’ve overdosed or had gluttony tattooed on my ass. The lights from each bar, restaurant, and strip club caused a colorful haze to dance off the faces of the people and illuminate the entire street. There’s an energy to this street that I can’t describe in words because it has to be experienced to be believed.

“This place is fucking amazing,” I said to Mark as he walked next to me, and the guys strolled further ahead.

“Yeah, it’s NOLA. They may call Vegas Sin City, but it doesn’t have nothing on NOLA.” He pointed to a group of girls on the sidewalk. Their upper bodies were covered in paint, and they didn’t have any clothing on except for shorts. “See those girls, they come here all the time, and guys pay to take pictures with them.”

I couldn’t believe people were so shocked by tits that it required a photo as proof of their wild time. They were here on vacation, but this was my new home. The possibilities are endless in a city like New Orleans. I checked my watch, “Hey, we should find the club and head in; it’s close to nine.”

“Yo,” Marked yelled to the others as he pointed to the Hustler Club.

We walked through the crowd; our bodies touching as we bumped into other people trying to make our way to the other side of the street. The Hustler Club had a purple and red neon sign with the tagline ‘Relax… It’s Just Sex!’ I couldn’t have said it better myself. Pictures of women framed the doorway in various positions and levels of nudity. We each handed the barely dressed woman our money and were shown our way through a velvet drape and into the entrance. On the other side of the drape was a red room with tall backed couches made of red velvet that led the way to the main club area. Hustler is a multi-level club with various dance floors and seating areas. I had messaged Carrie earlier in the day, and she told me where they’d be. “They’re gonna be at the bar. Let’s go find them first.”

The guys looked like kids in a candy store. There was so much going on around us, and these guys didn’t look like the type who actually had the chance to bang a stripper; they could only stare at them and stuff dollar bills in their panties. I’d had my share of strippers and knew they weren’t as glamorous as they looked on the stage. They were a fucking train wreck wrapped in a pretty package. Tom, Paul, and Mark could never land a stripper; it wasn’t that they didn’t have the looks, but they just didn’t have the ‘it’ factor. They were frumpy, lacked any kind of skills when it came to women, and they lacked confidence. Fuck, they lacked everything that could draw a woman in besides a wallet full of money.

The bar was on the other side of the room, but I could see Carrie perfectly through the haze of pink lights and people. She sat on a bar stool with a short skirt and open back top. She sat sideways on the chair with her back clearly visible along with the side of her face. She had curly long brown hair and a bunch of it. I thought about putting my fingers in her hair and grabbing hold of her while I fucked her, bumping her ass and causing her body to move from the impact. Her top was white and almost sheer. Her legs were killer with black dagger heels that screamed to be held. I didn’t know where I wanted to put my hands on this girl first. She laughed and tossed her head back, and my cock grew hard wanting to see her on top of me in the same position, her head tipped back, naked, and happy.

I shifted my shoulders and stood up straight – I wanted maximum impact when she laid eyes on me. I couldn’t understand what a girl as hot as her would be doing on a site like Fuckbook, but then again, what the fuck was I doing on Fuckbook? We all have our reasons for the choices we make or the types of relationships we seek; I couldn’t judge her on her choice or actions. I walked toward her slowly, trying to seem casual. I looked around the room like I hadn’t spotted her yet until I was practically right in front of her.

“Kayden?” she said as she looked me up and down.

I smiled and gave her the same once over, although I already did that from across the room. “Yes, Carrie, I presume.” I said as I held out my hand looking for hers in return. She slid her fingers into my palm, and I closed my fingers around them. Her fingernails were long and red and neatly manicured. I lifted her hand to my mouth and turned it at the last moment and kissed her wrist. It’s such a sensual spot. I looked up at her, and she had a glimmer in her eye; I knew instantly she’d be perfect for the type of arrangement I wanted.

“These are my friends, Samantha and Kelly.” Samantha was a brunette with thin straight hair, a plain face, and simple clothes. Kelly had a little more going on with blond hair, huge tits, big green eyes and clothes that looked like they were painted on. Samantha was more the type that would go for one of my friends, but I think she had more class than the guys had in their pinky fingers.

“This is Tom, Mark, and Paul.” I pointed to them lined up at the bar all ordering drinks. “Want to get a table?” I asked.

“We’d love to.” They grabbed their drinks and moved off their barstools. I never could understand how women walked in those fucking shoes, but they did crazy things to my cock. “Just so you know, Samantha doesn’t like guys. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression to your friends.” Kind of made sense to me, but I’d think she would have gone the extra mile when getting ready in a room filled with opportunity for her.