Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“We’re going to start,” I say, “with turtle soup with a splash of sherry.”
“With a Sazerac, of course,” Mémé says.
“What’s a Sazerac?” Mary asks.
“It’s a classic New Orleans cocktail made with rye whiskey, absinthe, Peychaud’s bitters, and a sugar cube,” Mémé says.
“Absinthe?” she asks.
“It’s an anise liqueur. Tastes like licorice.”
“I’ll try anything once,” Mary says. “Sure. Bring me a Sazerac.”
“I will do that.” Mémé smiles. “And your turtle soup will arrive a few minutes after the cocktails. I’ll have Greta bring you some water as well.”
“Perfect,” I tell Mémé. “Merci beaucoup.”
“De rien, mon cher.” Mémé flits away, looking absolutely gorgeous in her bohemian-style skirt and blouse.
“She doesn’t look like a Voodoo priestess,” Mary says.
“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows. “What is a Voodoo priestess supposed to look like?”
Her cheeks redden. “I don’t know.”
“Did you expect her to come to our table and sacrifice a chicken or something?”
“Of course not.”
“Voodoo is a religion, Mary—a religion that my grandmother takes seriously. The same as some Christians, Jews, and Muslims take their religion seriously.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault that the word ‘voodoo’ has connotations that actual practitioners don’t like.”
“Actually, since we’re here, I would like to learn more about it. More about everything here. The cuisine, the religion, the culture. I’ve hardly been out of New York.”
“Really?”
She nods. “I’m kind of a homebody. I make decent money at the store, and the only reason I don’t live paycheck to paycheck is because I have such good rent, thanks to my father. But as you know, being in the lifestyle can be expensive. Clubwear, toys, the rest.”
“You have your own toys?” I ask.
“I get a discount at the store. So yes, I do.”
“Do you ever use them?”
“On myself? No. And I don’t take them to the club. I guess I just always thought it would be good to have them on hand if I ever… You know.”
“Wanted to play outside the club?”
“Yes.” She looks down at her napkin. “But that hasn’t happened. Yet.”
The word yet does not escape my notice.
She hasn’t ruled it out.
The idea has merit. She’s obviously struggling with playing at the club. Perhaps playing outside the club is an option to help her get through her issues.
A server I don’t recognize brings our drinks.
I raise mine. “To us.”
Mary picks up her drink and clinks it to mine. “To us.”
She’s never had a Sazerac, so I take the lead. I swish the liquid around in the glass, careful not to spill any. Then I let the floral aroma waft toward me.
“It’s strong,” I warn, “but it’s delicious once you get used to it. Rye whiskey can be a little bit harsh compared to a single malt scotch, which is my favorite.”
“I like a bourbon every now and then,” Mary says. “Not a big fan of scotch.”
“This will be harsh compared to a bourbon as well. You have to ease into it. The sugar cube has been soaked in the bitters, and the whole drink is muddled with some water and a twist of lemon. It will have a strong whiskey flavor, but the sugar and the herbal notes of the bitters will balance it. Let it sit on your tongue for a moment and enjoy the flavors. That’ll ease the harshness of it going down your throat.”
I take a drink, following my own advice. I let it sit on my tongue for a moment, easing the harshness of the rye, and when I swallow, it burns my throat in a good way.
Mary takes a drink…and then coughs.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I didn’t let it sit on my tongue first.”
“Rookie mistake.” I take another drink. “Try again. If it doesn’t grow on you, I’ll get you something else.”
She nods, takes another sip. This time when she swallows, it goes down more easily, based on what I see from her neck and facial expression.
“Better?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She twists her lips. “It’s… I can taste licorice. It’s almost a fresh taste.”
“That’s the absinthe and the bitters.” I reach for the cocktail menu. “Would you like me to order you something else?”
She shakes her head. “I’m here for the full immersive experience. I’m going to eat and drink whatever you put in front of me tonight.”
Her words arouse me. Words of pure submission. Words of letting me have control over this meal. Over her life—at least for the next couple of hours.
My groin tightens.
God, I want my cock inside her tonight.
I’ve waited long enough.
Then I erase the thought from my mind. Waited long enough? I’ve only known her for a few days.
She’s worth it.
If I have to wait a year to have her, I will.
Did that thought really just cross my mind? I’ve never waited a year for a woman.
Mary takes another drink of her Sazerac. “You know? This definitely has promise.”
“I’m glad you think so.”