Ahhhh........ NOLA – better known as New Orleans – the “Soul City”, or should it be called the “City of Souls”? The French Quarter is the oldest section, established in 1718. That makes up 17 squares, full of intoxicating smells, music, tastes, bars, and energy, like no other. I was bound to have endless amounts of adventure.
This journey began with what I was expecting as a romantic vacation with whom I like to call “Mattland”…a.k.a. my lova. He is my companion for raunchy sexscapades around the world. This particular adventure took us to Louisiana. I envisioned long walks on the fractured and worn brick streets, river cruise on the Natchez, and stepping back in time with a carriage ride. It excited me to put the city boy out in the middle of the swamps full of cypress trees and alligators. He, on the other hand, probably expected a threesome from the swingers club he found online, or to find some girl in a strip club off Bourbon Street. We enjoy keeping our entrees full of choices, in case we feel like other meat – keeps our sex life like a buffet and not a boring meal served in jail. Think about it. It’s not cheating on your diet if you share. He loves dating the butcher. Lol.
We landed just in time for happy hour. We consumed three-for-one cocktails and had just enough time to put on our matching costumes before we hit the streets running. Creating a vibe of sex and dirtiness, I love to pretend I’m a different person when I am dressed in stockings, stilettos, and this time, clothes from the 17th Century. Damn, I looked hot. Mattland wasn’t bad either with his top hat, and rocked out a Willy Wonka look. We were on a mission to devour the city. We tried our best, flirting with waitresses and tourists. Not a bite. I don’t know if the South frowns upon bisexual women, or if they just thought we looked like freaks. I even banged on a metal door of this fine establishment called “BANGKOCK Massage Spa”, hoping to get my feet rubbed “wink-wink”. A woman slowly opened the door after seeing me on the video camera. As blunt as she could be, she refused service. Really??!! “Don’t you know who I am??” Lol, just kidding. The only thing that was biting that night was the gators out on the Bayou.
This wasn’t one of those cities where you just “pick up” a girl, so we needed a little help and went, or should I say stumbled, into the local voodoo shop. My mission was to cast a little spell of romance, and trigger the lust button. New Orleans has a special mysticism that just makes every sense of your body throb: the sound of local talent playing and the tapping of feet that vibrates and travels through those old streets, the smell of fresh seafood and the Creole spices that enrich the air, being greeted by friendly, warm smiles and looking at the gumbo and jambalaya like food porn. There are so many indulgences. How can you not fall in love? We lit a candle, made a wish on the voodoo altar, and made our way skipping down the streets of Bourbon. Feeling quite the buzz, I may add.
We had romantic strolls around the French Quarter, satiated our taste buds on the best sautéed crab claws I have ever sucked on, went on haunted tours, danced to jazz on Bourbon Street, and indulged in the spirits of both kinds. We were having a seductive romance with the city of New Orleans itself. For those readers that have never been, I can’t express enough that NOLA seems to come alive at night. Yet, most of the energy you feel is from the dead walking among us. The air is very still, however I felt a cold presence go right through my body as if my soul was being greeted. It truly is one of the most haunted cities in the world. This is where it gets interesting. The night was sexually charged, but our quest to find a southern belle was becoming as hard as Tom Hanks trying to find the Holy Grail.
Stop the presses of all crazy things that are going on, we happen to see: out of the corner of our eyes, a man with a female between his legs giving him a blow job. He’s leaning up against a wall, text messaging, acting like nothing is going on. Talk about MULTI-TASKING! This city lets your guard down, and your pants down, too!
Not about to throw in the towel just yet, and being that it was Halloween weekend, we set our sights on a bar called Lafitte’s, the oldest bar in America, (1772) previously owned by Jean Lafitte, the pirate this bar was fraternized by, the who’s who of the day within his fellow pirates, hookers and scoundrels. Hey! We would feel right at home, so we headed straight over. Approaching Lafitte’s entrance, we passed a tall, handsome man draped in black leaning up against a stone wall with his arms crossed. Even though I’m holding Matt’s hand and kissing him, making it clear I am with a male companion, he still makes eye contact with me and grins as we entered the room. We bellied up to the bar ordering two Jäger shots. Within seconds, a voice behind me says: “I got this.” It was the eerie man staring at me as I made my way through the crowd. How did he get to the bar so fast? It didn’t matter. His sexy, long black hair, skintight leather pants and charm captivated my attention. He asked if he could join us, like a vampire needing permission to enter a home. Immediately we hit it off with great conversation. He had knowledge of the city – like he had lived there for the past 200 hundred years. His historical stories were fascinating, as he spoke of the tragedies such as civil war battles, the fires, plagues, etc. – so much death in this little city. I spent hours “locked”, gazing into his eyes, as he shared stories about the dead walking among us and the bloody murders that happened in the past 200 years. The time and our souls were sucked right out of us.
Our new host invited us to go to a party with him called the “Lestat Ball”. He insisted we go right at that moment, before it got too late. “We must not miss the show,” he said. Ironically, we were in appropriate red and black costumes. Now looking back at this, it seems that he had our night planned without us even aware of it. Maybe he was stalking us earlier in the day, like a predator stalks its prey. Without question, I had no morals, and was yearning and willing under his command to go anywhere and try anything. Looking back, I wonder if it was Jonathan, (the charmer), or the city itself, that led me to where it was taking me. Whatever it was, I was not under my own control and definitely under a spell.
He took us to an old ballroom that was built 100 years ago. We passed by the line of people outside huddling together, protecting themselves from the wind. It bothered me that I couldn’t see their faces. Once we got inside, I see Anne Rice. She was making a speech about her new novel series coming out about werewolves. Everyone began to howl at the news of her latest writings. I grabbed a hold of Matt’s arm for comfort, then noticed Jonathan’s hand scratching Matt’s back with long fingernails, reminding me of a scene from the book Interview With The Vampire. I didn’t know how to take his affection for Matt.
The lights went down and the violinist (a human they treated as a pet) was commanded to play. The slow moan of the instrument and vibration set the tone, filling the room with a creepy ambience, sending mesmerizing waves of anticipation. It’s like when music soothes animals – this music awakened the undead. I’d never felt such a chill before – almost like an out-of-body experience. At this point I don’t know if I’m dreaming this. Jonathan whispers into the ear of a half-naked gypsy. I notice erect nipples and blush when she saw me staring at them. Her breasts were exposed on top of her corset. I was shocked to see nudity in public – however it was a private party. She returns with red wine in vintage goblets. I was impressed, because most everyone else had plastic cups from the bar. Matt and I clink goblets and I say, “This is how we ‘role’,” and laugh loudly.
Jonathan introduced us to his friends that are a real coven of witches. No shit! This is their lifestyle. Matt leaves me behind to go to the bar with our “self proclaimed” vampire and do a shot. I sat in the VIP booth, feeling like a virgin. Everything was so beautiful: old wood with burgundy velvet curtains and candles lit everywhere. It was the 23rd Anniversary of the Vampire Ball. Many were dressed in 18th Century French clothing – not only looking the part, but role-playing as well. I stayed in the corner with these cackling women taking photos while waiting for my men to return. One witch that calls herself Anastasia begins to play with the back of my corset strings. It was like I was enjoying this feeling of not having control. My heart was pounding as I peered over the crowd looking for Matt. Her hands started to run all over my back, then she pleasantly placed her hand on my knee. We laughed a bit and had dumb conversation about me being from Vegas. She then leaned in and kissed me on the lips and touched my breast. At that time the show lights came on and the sound of a pounding organ on stage grabbed everyone’s attention. Moments later, Matt came back to our booth with crazy stories of what he had seen. Nobody was exactly sucking each other’s blood, but from what I was hearing, they enjoyed pretending the human servers there were being harassed. I kept quiet about my secret kiss with the witch. SLV
Look for Part 2 of my Adventure in New Orleans next month...
Issue 67 featuring: Veronica Ricci, Raven Alexis & Georgia Jones |
