Chapter 10

November Seventeenth

Jean Boissieu sauntered down Bourbon Street, deep within the heart of New Orleans' French Quarter. He smiled and nodded amiably to everyone he passed. Here, as in most urban settings, such friendly overtures would normally be met with a suspicious look and averted eyes. Something about his manner and Gallic good looks, though, inspired the recipients to return the gesture, often to their obvious surprise.

The area had been virtually untouched by Katrina, and still displayed all of the charm and casual decadence that had led him to make the place his home so many years before. At this time of year, so far from Mardi Gras and the infamous Fat Tuesday celebration, the crowds were sparse, more so recently than in years past. Following the hurricane and its aftermath, tourism had waned substantially. The crowds were slowly returning, but they had not yet come close to reaching their previous level.

The signs of the downturn were everywhere. Many of the strip clubs were only open on Fridays and Saturdays. The numerous sidewalk cafes were closed even though it was well before midnight. The myriad balconies that looked down upon the street were mostly empty, and the windows behind them were closed with drawn curtains hiding the darkened interiors from view.

Nevertheless, there were still a fair number of revelers staggering along the sidewalks with drinks clutched carefully in their hands. Music, both from jukeboxes and live bands, seeped out through the open fronts of a number of bars, joining together in joyous cacophony.

A happy squeal rose above the din. His eyes searched among the pedestrians for the source before locating her leaning drunkenly against one of the sidewalk service bars. She was perfect: a petite, well formed blond with a lopsided smile that spoke volumes about the number of drinks she had already consumed that night.

From the shadows of an alley, he watched her, pretending to sip at a hand grenade, one of several signature drinks of the area, which he had purchased from a nearby bar. He again searched among the merry makers. Making a selection, he focused his will briefly to give a small mental nudge. A collegian Adonis approached the girl and leaned down to speak in her ear. A light blush suffused her cheeks as she gazed up at him through partially lowered lashes.

Another nudge, and the girl's friend, her knees pressed tightly together to keep control of a suddenly rebellious bladder, tugged at her arm. Not taking her eyes from her admirer's face, the blond waved her friend off. Yet another nudge, and the young man recalled pressing business elsewhere. She frowned in confusion at his back as he vanished down the street.

Jean permitted himself a satisfied smile as he strode quickly across the street to her side; it had been so easy to get the fawn alone, vulnerable and helpless.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he said in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the surrounding din, "Please permit me to apologize on behalf of my gender. I witnessed that young man's loutish behavior. A woman of such beauty as you deserves much better."

"Yeah, tell me about it," she muttered as she continued to glare after the boy who had so rudely abandoned her. Her eyes widened as his words finally registered fully, and she spun to face him. "Are you from France?" she asked.

"Oui, mademoiselle," he replied. He winced as her mouth pursed into a happy "o," and she emitted another of the squeals that had first drawn his attention to her.

"Could you say something in Francese?" she asked excitedly.

"For you, my lovely one, I would be happy to speak in 'Francese, '" he replied, proud of himself for keeping the contempt from his voice. With a small smile, he said, "Je respire l'odeur de ton corps. Vous sentez d'licieux."

Before she could ask for a translation, he switched back to English, and asked, "Is this your first time in the Big Easy?".

"Uh huh," she slurred, "my friend Janis and I decided to sneak away for the weekend to take a break before finals. So far it's been a blast! Hasn't it Jan?" She peered around in confusion as she realized her friend was no longer present. Somehow she was unable to recall where the other girl had gone.

"I have lived in this wonderful city for quite some time. Perhaps I could show you around to some of the local hot spots?"

Her face clouded. "I dunno," she said slowly, "I should really wait for Jan..."

"Your friend could not have strayed far. I'm sure we'll find her," he replied as he offered her a crooked elbow. To his surprise, she twined her hand through it without any need for compulsion. He patted her hand and beamed a smile. She truly was as foolish as she was beautiful. Just the way he liked them.

True to his word, Jean took the young woman, whose name he never bothered to learn, to a number of jazz clubs and out-of-the-way drinking establishments. As the hours passed, her inhibitions faded even further. Their dancing grew ever more erotic, and, time and again, she flowed willingly into his arms for kisses that turned increasingly passionate. Jean thoroughly enjoyed himself; as he always did when playing the game of seduction.

With only a few hours left until dawn, he led her back to his small apartment. His landlady, a Haitian known as Mama Marie, had witnessed him feeding when he had first come to the city more than thirty years earlier. Before he could kill her - his ability to alter memories was useless at the time - she had pronounced him to be a "Loa" and led him here. He had lived here ever since, prospering under her protective eye. As the years passed, he developed a great deal of affection for Marie. Now that she was in her eighties, he often did her grocery shopping and house cleaning, and performed the small repairs that were needed in the several buildings she owned. He had even offered her the Gift. She had refused, asking instead that he merely put in a good word for her with Bondye. He had sadly promised that he would do his best, wishing all the while that her request was truly within his power.

Once inside, he led the inebriated girl to his bed. Sitting her on the edge of the mattress, he lit a candle to shed dim, flickering light in the dark and windowless room. Turning, he kissed her deeply, and lowered her to the silk sheets. As he rained kisses over her lips, face and throat, his hands roamed over her body, undoing a button here and a snap there.

Once he had bared her firm and perky breasts, he bent to take a nipple in his mouth. As he sucked, she ran her fingers through his hair. He laved both of her breasts gently with his tongue, and then moved downwards.

"I've never done it with a foreigner before," she murmured.

With a laugh he replied, "I think you will find that there is not much difference where it counts." As an afterthought, he added smugly, "Although we French are much better at using it."

Her giggle turned into a gasp of pleasure as he reached his target. He lightly licked around the edges of her thong, paying particular attention to the creases where her inner thighs became her sex. Stripping her of the tiny garment, he delved between the thick, wet labial lips, lengthening his tongue slightly to reach far into her depths. She responded with another of the earsplitting squeals.

In his nearly ninety years of existence, he had perfected the art of cunnilingus, and he applied that knowledge now. Her body quivered endlessly in orgasm as his lips and tongue caressed her clit, labia, perineum and anus. Finally, he drew himself to his knees and stripped off his own clothing.

The girl lay panting and sweaty before him. With a happy sigh she gazed into his eyes. "Wow, that was intense," she whispered. Her eyes traced down his body, and widened when they came to his member. "Oh my god," she said timidly, "There's no way that thing will fit inside me."

He smiled down at her indulgently, stroking himself a few time so that the foreskin alternately covered and revealed the bulbous, plum sized head of his organ. Moving to cover her body with his own, he said, "I think you will find that it will fit quite nicely, mademoiselle."

As the head of his massive cock split her labia, she put a hand on his hips to stop him. "Do you have a rubber?" she asked.

"Shhh," he whispered, "Do not concern yourself with such trifles. I assure you that I am sterile and disease free."

Any further protest she might have made died on her lips as he lunged forward, burying at least six inches of his length inside her. She cried out in pain as she was stretched wider than she had ever thought possible. He paused only briefly to allow her to adjust to his presence before thrusting even deeper. She grunted in pain as the head of his cock collided forcefully against her cervix. Apparently, she was not one of the few women who enjoyed the sensation.