In The Heart of Dixie
written by:
Fluffy_Kat
Chapter 1: Reverse English & A Little FrenchJuly 1986
The little girl was asleep in the pantry off the kitchen. Her bed was an old sleeping bag folded in half that smelled vaguely of mildew, its flannel fabric tan with colorful waterfowl in red, turquoise, and gold. She liked the birds so much that she slept on the rough canvas outer layer to avoid dirtying the pretty birds. A raggedy knit afghan done in a zigzag stripe of rainbow colors was bunched behind her back, the night too warm to use it as a cover.
She normally slept on the sofa in the living room but her mother had a "guest" for the night so she stayed hidden in the pantry. Before succumbing to sleep she folded the pillow over her ears so she wouldn't hear the noises her mother and the man made above the sound of "Secret Lover" playing on her mother's treasured boombox.
She woke up in the middle of the night because she had to use the bathroom. It smelled like something was burning on the stove and she tentatively opened the pantry door. The kitchen was full of dark smoke and she could hear a swooshing sound followed by snapping and crackling coming from the front of the apartment. Holding Woodstock, a plush replica of the Peanuts comic strip bird, she walked barefooted towards the hallway off the kitchen that led to the bathroom and the apartment's only bedroom. There the smoke was heavier and was rolling towards her as if it wanted to grab her. The floor beneath her feet was hot and she let out a scream when she heard a window break followed by a scream.
She unlocked the back door and went out onto the back landing. She debated whether she should run upstairs to Patty's apartment to ask for help. Patty was her mama's age with two little girls and one of them, Lawanda, was her best friend. She thought Patty would know what to do.
A piercing alarm started blaring from upstairs and frightened her into action. With Woodstock tightly in her arms, she ran down the back stairs and unlocked the back door. She stepped out into the night and gulped lungfuls of hot summer air. Something crashed behind her inside the house and she ran towards the back of the yard. She hid next to a bush, its prettily scented flowers competing with the stench of burnt wood and charred pork. She peed on herself when she saw orange flames fill the pantry through its single window. She clutched Woodstock a little tighter and tears slid down her soot-filled cheeks because she knew her mother and her pretty birds on her sleeping bag were gone. She was all alone now except for Woodstock.
She looked up as the upstairs porch door opened and Patty came out screaming with Lawanda and Georgia in her arms. People started coming out of the neighboring houses to see what was happening and a big man who lived next door jumped the fence into their yard and yelled for Patty to throw the girls down. Smoke enveloped Patty as if it were going to eat her alive and orange flames licked out from behind the door. Patty tossed Georgia down because she was the smallest. The big man caught the little girl but she managed to knock him over. She was wailing noisily as she stood up and cried for her mother.
More people arrived and sirens blared in the distance. Lawanda was next and she climbed over the railing herself and jumped towards the big man as if she were diving into a pool. She knocked him down like her sister had and when she got up she couldn't walk and crawled away from the house.
Dixie ran over to her friends and pulled Georgia away from the house. A neighbor lady picked up Lawanda and carried her to the back of the yard. Everyone waited to see what Patty would do. People were yelling for her to jump because the flames were nearly upon her.
Dixie held Georgia tightly against her chest, hugging the little girl as much for her own comfort as for the little girl's. Lawanda sat next to them crying as sparks rained down around them.
All but Georgia watched as Patty stepped over the railing of the porch as flames devoured the wall behind her. Suddenly she screamed and fell and nobody was prepared to catch her. She landed with a thud on the ground and the big man pulled her away from the building. Her nightgown, a long t-shirt, had started on fire and was smoking as he dragged her across the yard.
The sirens were close and they could see the red lights of the fire truck in front of the house. Men in long yellow coats and helmets ran around the house breaking windows and spraying water. The water sizzled when it hit the flames and the air went from smelling of burnt wood and pork to smelling like a wet smoky blanket.
Someone led some of the men to the back of the house and showed them Patty lying unmoving on the ground. One man started pushing on her chest and then breathing into her mouth. He kept it up until they could hear Patty cough and groan in pain.
More men came and a lady brought them to the three little girls. The men carried Dixie and Georgia around to the front of the house and Lawanda was transported on a stretcher. The girls were loaded into an ambulance and taken away as the sirens wailed noisily.
All the while, Dixie held onto Woodstock as if he were her life preserver. The sooty yellow bird smelled strongly of smoke inside the sterile hospital but she wouldn't let him go. She fell asleep, exhausted after her body was washed and hair cleaned. They dressed her in a pink hospital gown with little birds on it.
A pretty lady woke her up the next morning. Dixie never saw her before but the lady reminded her of her mother. She had chin length blonde hair arranged in soft curls that was the same color as her mother's long straight hair and her dark gray eyes were like her mother's and her own. The lady smelled as pretty as she looked, like a garden of flowers. She wore makeup like Dixie's mother did but hers wasn't in the same bright colors. The lady's eyelids were covered in sparkly brown shadow and her tinted lips didn't look wet with lip gloss like her mother's.
The pretty lady leaned over the bed and in a southern accent so much like her mother's, she said, "Hi, baby," she brushed back some hair from the her face, "my name is Charity and I am your momma's sister."
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April 2012
Dixie Rebel Daniels loaded her suitcases into the trunk of the cab. The cab driver's eyes slid over her appreciatively. She was dressed in worn jeans, black cowboy boots, and a black fringed biker jacket. The bad girl look only added to her sexual charm.
Dixie was a big woman at six foot. She had long tawny blonde hair in a "just fucked" style, a square jaw, high cheekbones, and gray stony eyes upturned like a cat's. The edginess of her appearance was offset by her full lips and voluptuous figure reminiscent of Hollywood sex goddesses of the 1950s and 1960s.
She slid into the backseat of the cab and told the driver to take her to the airport then she settled back into the black vinyl seat and looked out the window. The sun lit up her face and the cab driver revised his assessment of her. She looked sad and lost as if she just lost a best friend.
Smiling, he said, "Nice day. It is supposed to get into the eighties in a few days. Can you believe that?"
Dixie's eyes slid towards his. "Crazy, isn't it?"
He spent the rest of the ride chitchatting grateful that she wasn't some crazed jilted lunatic.
When he dropped her off at the airport terminal he never dreamed that in a little over a year he would be telling anyone who would listen that he once met her. They would be shocked and tell him he was full of shit but he would insist, describing her down to the spicy powdery scent she wore. He would regale them with flamboyantly embellished commentary about how nice she was but also how sad.
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August 2012
The party was on the rooftop of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis. Music from the band's latest album was playing in the background. People walked around with drinks in their hands, casually dressed. Small exclusive groups convened in shadowed corners while the mighty Mississippi slithered by in the background like a shiny orange snake under the glow of the setting sun.
The party was celebrating the release of Reverse English's latest album. The title of the album was Indigo and it was the British rock band's flirtation with the blues genre. The album's songs dealt with the fickleness of fate: love gone wrong, missed opportunities, past regrets. Astrologists, tarot card readers, and palm readers were hired for the guests' amusement In keeping with the album's fate filled theme.
Dixie sat down at a table with an old black woman who resembled a fat Buddha. The woman had skin the color of café au lait, large dark doe-like eyes above her plump cheeks, and short curly hair. Even her heavy ornate earrings made her ear lobes droop adding to her resemblance to "The Enlightened One". She was dressed in a caftan top of orange and red ombre stripes.
In a deep southern accent, she asked Dixie her birth date. Dixie told her June 25, 1978.
The woman stared at her without a hint of emotion. Dixie wiggled uncomfortably in her seat under the older woman's scrutiny. The astrologist finally said, "Hmmmm...the sign of the Crab. You are imaginative and tenacious, loyal and sympathetic. You value family, whether it is someone biologically tied to you or close friends and co-workers."
The woman cocked her head. "You empathize with other people. You've experienced pain as a young child, which turned you into an old soul." She continued, "It is that tragedy that helps you connect with other people, to experience their emotions. People in your life must fight to earn your trust and it is not easily given. You are a hard worker, in need of little supervision, but you don't like being controlled. You are not overly ambitious because a simpler life is more to your liking."
"I see fame in your future but it won't agree with you. You will miss your home and your more humble lifestyle. Ah, but it is not all bad. You will fall in love with someone and the two of you will have a passionate affair. Whether it lasts, will depend upon what compromises you both are willing to make."
When the woman finished, Dixie stood up and thanked her, and made her way to the bar. She ordered a glass of wine and stood sipping it as she watched the other party goers.
Dixie Daniels was intrigued by what the astrologist said. She sang backup on Reverse English's latest album and was set to tour with them in another month. She was both frightened and excited by the prospect. She was trying to figure out who she was supposed to have a passionate affair with when a sexy British voice asked, "You don't really buy into that nonsense do you?"
She smiled and said, "Who knows? I haven't closed my mind to such possibilities." She turned to look at Andre Powell and said, "I take it you are a skeptic?"
He chuckled, his laugh like the chuffing of a big cat, erotic and powerful. "It is fun to contemplate but I don't set much by it." He rubbed his fingertips against her bare arm - an intimate gesture - and asked, "Are you enjoying yourself, luv?"
"I am now." She raised her glass in his direction.
"Hmmmm, I'm quite flattered. Have you eaten?"
"No, not yet. Why?"
He put down his glass, grabbed hers and set it on the bar. He said, "Do you like barbecue?" When she nodded he grabbed her arm and whisked her off towards the elevators.
They left the hotel and grabbed a taxi. Andre told the driver to take them to a place on Madison Avenue that turned out to be in the middle of a residential area. The driver stopped in front of the door; the animated neon sign overhead depicted two pigs dancing a jig.
It took their eyes a few seconds to adjust to the restaurant's dim interior. Andre took her hand and pulled her towards a booth along one wall. He sat down across from her and said, "They have the best dry rub here of anyplace I have ever tried."
They both ordered the dry rubbed ribs with the restaurants famous barbecue spaghetti, coleslaw and Texas toast. They washed it down with bottles of beer.
The restaurant was casual, small, and the service friendly and swift. Nobody cared that she was white and Andre wasn't. In fact, she was pleasantly surprised that no one recognized him as a world famous guitarist.
Dixie let Andre do most of the talking. She listened to him talk about his family. He was an only child. His French black mother was a famous jazz singer in Europe and his British white father a well known jazz pianist. She thought that explained where he got his exotic good looks.
Andre was a couple of inches taller than her six feet. It was no wonder he was a favorite among the band's young female fans. He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a tight muscular ass. His face was a marriage of attractive features from both parents: a straight nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and skin the color of a healthy summer tan. Even his hazel eyes were a blend of both ethnicities. He wore his light brown hair in long but neat dreadlocks that hung halfway down his back. That night he wore them pulled back in a thick ponytail.
As his conversation ventured beyond his teenage years, he went on to describe his music career. He learned to play the guitar and piano as a child. Rather than go to university, he played the guitar in London jazz clubs. At twenty-two he was discovered by Craig Stewart, the lead singer for Reverse English, who convinced him to join the band to replace the band's original guitarist who was killed in a car accident.
They were done with their dinners and sharing a piece of lemon icebox pie when he said, "Now tell me a little about yourself. Where did you acquire that delightful southern accent?"
Dixie gave him the cliff notes version of her life. She was originally from New Orleans - which she pronounced N'Awlins - and her mother died when she was eight. She went to live with her aunt who was a celebrated blues artist in a small town in northern Wisconsin. She left out that her mother was a hooker and that she never knew her father.
He asked her when she started singing and why she chose the blues.
"I grew up listening to the blues. My aunt, Charity Daniels, plays the piano and sings. My uncle Mike Daniels is a well known blues guitarist. I spent much of my childhood hanging out in my aunt's blues club. I've been singing and playing the blues since I was ten."
Andre said, "I'm surprised you haven't hit the big time with your singing talent and blues pedigree."
She laughed. "I prefer being a big fish in a small pond. I like the smaller music venues and meeting people." She didn't add that she enjoyed meeting people of the male persuasion. "As much as I love our fans, I also value my privacy. I can't imagine living your lifestyle. It must be like living in a fishbowl with people closely watching your every move."
Andre smiled at her. She felt like she was naked when he gave her a curious look and said, "It can be something like that."
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Andre took the band's gorgeous and intriguing Amazon goddess back to his hotel suite. He poured her a drink and fixed one for himself. He didn't realize how little he knew about her after he spent most of the evening talking about himself. She was a perfect listener, commented periodically in that sexy southern accent that sounded like the deep purr of a tiger. Her laugh was just as sexy - deep, husky, and genuine.
She was sitting on a stool at the bar in his hotel suite casually dressed in jeans and an off-white peasant style blouse that tied at the neckline but was left untied. It slipped sexily off one golden shoulder, its long balloon style sleeves ending with elastic at her wrists. A brown leather belt was cinched loosely at her hips. The belt was the same muddy brown as her leather cowboy boots. The ivory pendant of her necklace looked like a giant tooth or claw strung on a thick silver chain. The ensemble made her look like a bohemian sex kitten.
Andre spent a half hour standing in front of her and telling her funny stories about his life as a musician, there was enough humorous fodder. He positioned himself in front of her, his thighs touching her knees and he felt the sexual heat radiating off of her like a furnace. His cock began to swell. He adeptly turned the conversation around to sex, telling her a story of two daughters of different Hollywood parents who got through backstage security and were making out naked on the couch in his dressing room after a concert.
"The one was sitting on the sofa, her legs slung over the other's shoulders while her partner in crime had her face buried between her legs. The licker was playing with her own clit while her partner was feeling up her own breasts. The one climaxed as I walked into the room. They expected me to get so hot watching them that I'd start a threesome with them. They were famous among rock bands for pulling that stunt and then gossiping about it either on the one's reality show or to the press. I didn't want to take a chance of my dick shriveling up and rotting off so I gave them a pass on their offer. There isn't a condom thick enough to protect my dick from the likes of them. They left in a huff."
Dixie laughed, her breasts jiggled enticingly. He moved between her thighs and kissed her.
The way she instinctually spread her legs so he fit more comfortably between them was a good sign. He felt the heat of her pussy through the fabric of their jeans. His cock was rock hard at that point and he hissed when she reached between them to caress the bulge in his pants.
He continued kissing her while squeezing and rubbing her breasts. She wrapped her right leg around his left thigh and pulled him closer. They started rubbing against each other until he thought his cock would burst inside his jeans.
He nuzzled her neck and then whispered, "Why don't you get out of those jeans? I'll be right back." He kissed her passionately on the lips and rubbed her crotch, happy to feel its wetness.
He went into the bedroom and practically tore off his clothes. He went through one of his bags and found packets of condoms and quickly rolled one onto his dick. He hurried back to his tall blonde beauty.
She'd lost more than her jeans. She lost the blouse, the belt and the boots along with her pink strapless bra and panties. Everything was neatly folded and stacked on the stool next to her. The only thing she wore was the claw shaped necklace. She looked like some female tribal warrior with her tousled wheat blonde hair.
He moved between her open thighs and teased her by sucking on her nipples until they were bright pink points wet with his saliva. He slid a couple of his fingers between her lower lips and she scooted to the edge of the stool as his thumb rubbed her clit while his calloused fingers fucked her pussy.
He stopped playing with her nipples and kissed the side of her neck. He whispered into her ear as he continued to play with her pussy, "May I fuck you?"
He could feel a giggle bubbling up beneath his lips but she held it in check as she answered in a poor British accent, "Please do, sir."
He took his fingers away from her pussy. They were wet and smelled of her sweet juices. He slid his cock head up and down between her lower lips. He'd hesitate for a few seconds and look down at his cock to see how wet it was. He inserted the head of his cock between her folds and quickly pulled it out. Dixie grew impatient. He could hear it in her moans and then he felt it when she wrapped her strong right leg around his thigh again and pulled him into her.
He started out slowly. Her pussy was slippery and silky, her muscles contracting around his cock. Her pussy felt amazing and it had been months since he fucked. As they kissed, his thrusts became more urgent.
Her fingernails swirled over his back making him shiver. Suddenly he must have hit a hot spot with his cock because she started breathing heavily and her fingers gripped his shoulders as she arched her back. Her big breasts rubbed against his chest and he could feel her nipples harden like little pebbles. Her pussy got wet and started singing, making slurping sounds as he banged into her. His balls slapped noisily against her ass as they tightened their hold on one another. The bar stool made a knocking sound against the floor as he tipped it back with each of his thrusts.
He pulled out of her and concentrated on sucking her nipples. He took the entire tip of her tit in his mouth as his hands squeezed her breast into bulging muffin tops. While he noisily sucked her nipples, she made sweet whimpering noises as if he were gently torturing her. The heel of her foot wrapped around his thigh started moving up and down his leg, the feeling strangely erotic and would have felt even sexier if she would have been wearing tall spiked heels.
Satisfied that her nipples were hard and wet from his attention and she was on the verge of climaxing, he went back to teasing her pussy with his cock. They both watched as he poked the head of his dick in and pulled it out. He enjoyed the loud popping noises her wet pussy made as he played with it. Then he rammed his entire big dick into her and she grunted in surprise. He didn't let up as he humped her like an animal complete with the same guttural grunts, growls, and moans as his hands firmly gripped her hips.
He felt the heat spread from his balls and start pumping up his shaft. He wanted her to cum one more time before he did so he concentrated on seeking out her erogenous zones. He grabbed her in a tight embrace and thrust his long cock deep inside her in a frenzied rhythm while he kissed and licked her neck and ears before moving on to her mouth.
She cried out as her pussy gushed over his cock. While she started panting, emitting quiet mewling noises, she spread her legs in a wide V and pointed her toes. Her pussy muscles locked around his cock and he growled with pleasure.
The sound of their bodies pounding against one another seemed excessively loud in the quiet hotel room. He kissed her hard, his tongue invading her mouth like his dick filling her pussy. She clenched her pussy muscles again and sucked on his probing tongue causing him to moan inside her mouth. Her pussy throbbed around him and she kissed him back with the same ferocity. He gently bit her lower lip as he climaxed, his cock spurting inside the condom as he made a few convulsive thrusts.
When he pulled out of her they remained embraced in each other's arms breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. After a few moments, he kissed her lips and said, "Now that was amazing." In answer, she tightened her grip on his ass and kissed him back.
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November 2012
Their last concert in the U.S. was in New York City and they were leaving for Europe the next day. Dixie was in the process of packing and choosing what to wear to go out to dinner. She was living out of a couple of suitcases and didn't even bother unpacking at each of their stops. She'd become a professional traveler, limiting herself to less than a dozen outfits that traveled with a minimum of upkeep. Modern hotel amenities became a necessity from dry cleaning and laundry service to irons and ironing boards supplied in the rooms. It had been months since she partook of a homemade meal. If it weren't for hotel pools and gyms, she'd be twice the size she was before she was hired to sing with Reverse English.
Of all the people connected with the band, she befriended Andre. Her two fellow backup singers, both women, seemed to resent her relationship with Andre and gave her the cold shoulder. The rest of the band was busy having fun with groupies. The roadies were a little too scary for her tastes.
She thought of her relationship with Andre as a fling, something to entertain them both while they were on the road. She never expected a serious relationship to grow out of it and it suited her. At thirty-four, she couldn't imagine settling down with someone. Just the idea of spending the rest of her life with one man made her shudder. She preferred being a free spirit, answering to no one.
Their schedule left her with little time to play tourist. They landed in a city, rehearsed, performed, and then readied themselves for the next leg of their journey. She picked up souvenirs and took pictures in the few hours she wasn't working. Then again some of her most interesting photos were taken while she was working. There were candid photos of the band members, the stage setup, and people working at the arenas where they played.
They crossed the country like fugitives from the law starting in Los Angeles then on to Las Vegas, Seattle, Denver, Dallas, New Orleans, Memphis, Chicago, Minneapolis, Atlanta, Miami, Boston, and now New York City. In many of the cities, she took shots of famous landmarks and attractions during early morning jaunts, stops while on her way to eat, and even from the plane.
The frantic schedule was getting to her and the words of the Buddha astrologer rang true, she was homesick. She didn't just miss her own apartment with all her things and the comfort of her own bed; she missed her more laid back performance schedule too. She missed singing with The Harvey Wallbangers, a small time blues band that toured the country in a big RV. They often had a few days to spend in each city to enjoy being tourists. What she loved about Harvey, Duke, and Danni was they were crazy enough to enjoy visiting funky tourist haunts like Salvation Mountain in Niland, California or a day of fun at Gatorland in Orlando, Florida.
She looked at the clock on the bedside table. Andre should be knocking on her door any minute. She threw on a pair of old comfortable jeans and a thick brown sweater along with her brown cowboy boots. Her only jewelry was a large picture jasper pendent necklace. The stone was as its name suggested like an abstract landscape painting in layers of caramel and beige with a pale bluish gray sky. She guiltily fingered the smooth stone pendent. It was a gift from Brice, one of her lovers, who she hadn't seen since he gave her the necklace as a going away gift.
There was a knock at the door and a man with a British accent said, "Room service." She couldn't help but smile. She temporarily forgot about Brice and opened the door. Andre smiled at her and said, "Your chariot awaits, Madame." He made an exaggerated bow, sweeping his arm towards the elevators.
She grabbed her purse and denim jacket, making sure she had her room key, and followed Andre down to the lobby.
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Andre didn't tell her where they were going. He knew she enjoyed a good barbeque as much as he did so he paid Boo to shut down his place for the night so it would be just the two of them. It cost him a pretty penny but was worth it so they wouldn't have to deal with the public or paparazzi. If there was one thing he learned about Dixie, she had no desire to be in the international limelight.
A gossip TV show mentioned their affair with a picture of the two of them leaving the hotel where they were staying in Las Vegas. They never even saw the paparazzi. They didn't know their picture had been taken until a friend of Dixie's told her she saw it featured on a tabloid TV show. Ever since then Dixie insisted on keeping their affair quiet.
Her insistence on a more clandestine affair didn't bother Andre. It sort of added to its excitement. Plus it meant they spent most of their time in his hotel suite ordering room service, talking while watching TV, and of course fucking each other's brains out. Dixie could be sweet and genteel but she was also a wild cat in bed. She was strong, horny, and adventurous. Unlike so many of the women he'd known, she was demanding yet just as generous.
Their limo driver pulled up in front of Boo's BBQ and Boo, a black man about the size of an NFL linebacker, opened up the metal rollup door that protected the front windows and door when the restaurant was closed. It was painted graffiti style depicting a smiling caricature of Boo working over a fiery pit with a pig on a spit. Andre and Dixie got out of the long car and hurried into the restaurant. Boo quickly pulled down the gate behind them.
Andre told her the place was casual so there was no need to dress up but he saw the surprised look on her face nonetheless. Boo's BBQ was a small dive with cheap wooden booths and about a dozen mismatched tables and chairs scattered throughout the narrow dining room. A counter at the back of the restaurant was where diners placed their orders and then waited for their number to be called when their order was ready where they picked it up at the other end of the counter. The most interesting thing about the décor was photographs that filled the upper portion of the walls. They were of famous customers including actors, singers, sports figures, and politicians.
He watched Dixie sniff the air and close her eyes. Another thing he loved about her, she was a fellow foodie. She was up to trying a variety of cuisines and had a gifted nose that could discern different spices and flavorings like a bloodhound.
Boo asked, "What can I get for you, Andre? Or aren't you ready to order yet?" He held a pad in his big beefy hands, the pen looking like a toothpick in his huge fingers as he had it poised to write down their order.
Dixie looked up at the menu above the counter. She looked at Andre and said, "Anything?" He smiled and said, "Anything or everything, it's your choice, luv." She ordered an outside pork shoulder dinner served with collard greens, spicy spaghetti, two slices of white bread, and a cup of coleslaw. Andre said, "Ditto," and told Boo to bring them a couple of beers.
Instead of taking a seat, he followed Dixie around as she looked up at the walls of pictures. The lower portion of the walls was paneled in dark bead board and the upper walls were painted a matte grayish blue with almost every square inch covered in photographs of various sizes. Interspersed among the photos of famous customers were a few famous New York City landmarks including the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Center, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, and Times Square. Andre figured the photos of NYC attractions were there to reserve room for more famous diners.
Overhead ceiling fans lazily twirled as if to suck the smell of barbecued pork from the kitchen to further entice hungry diners. The smell of tangy sauce and grilled pork was overlaid with the scent of cooking greens, Italian spices, and an odor that Dixie later identified as the miniature pecan pies they offered for dessert.
Boo brought them bottles of beer and they sipped on their beers as Boo gave them a tour of the walls. He pointed out famous people and when and how often they patronized the place. Each picture was autographed and some of the famous patrons added short remarks like "best BBQ in the world" or "my favorite NY eatery".
They were about to sit down when Boo asked if they would mind posing for a picture. His voice was deep and gravelly almost like a chainsaw on low throttle. When Andre didn't answer right away Boo worriedly said, "If you don't want to that's fine."
Andre looked at Dixie and she smiled and shrugged. He said, "Sure. Bring out the camera."
Boo brought out their dinners on a large plastic tray and his wife Delilah followed behind armed with a sophisticated looking 35mm digital camera. Delilah was thin and about the size of a twelve year old child.
No matter how often Andre saw the couple, he couldn't imagine them having safe sex together but they must have found a way because they had four grown children. Where Boo was very light skinned with freckles, Del was as black as coal with pretty features and crinkles at the corner of her eyes and mouth from smiling and laughing. Her hair was salted with gray and cut into short tight curls. Rather than making her look boyish, the short hair seemed to accentuate her pretty feminine features.
Andre and Dixie sat together on one side of a booth. Boo put their dinners down in front of them and Del was ready to snap a picture when Andre held up a finger and said, "Hold on." Then he dipped the same finger in his barbecue sauce and smudged it on Dixie's nose. She dipped her finger in her sauce and smeared it around his mouth. They ended up rubbing sauce all around their mouths, on their cheeks, and noses. They were laughing uproariously when Del took their picture as they ate chunks of their pork shoulder with their hands. Del looked at the shot on the screen on the back of the camera and then showed it to them. It was a perfect shot of them looking like they enjoyed their pork shoulder dinners so much they didn't bother wiping their faces between bites.
Del said, "I'll print this up so you can autograph it before we put it up. Is that okay?"
They were both wiping the sauce off their faces when Andre said, "That would be fine." Boo and Del left them alone in the dining room.
Andre and Dixie talked between bites. They discussed the band's recent performances, chatted about New York, and just life in general. It was the type of conversation that Andre rarely encountered in his haphazard life. Most of his past lovers inundated him with praise and platitudes. They seldom talked about what they genuinely felt or thought. Dixie was easy going and genuine, traits that went well with her throaty southern accent.
Boo brought out complimentary miniature pecan pies for their dessert. Del soon followed with the printed picture. Both he and Dixie thought it looked even better blown up.
Andre autographed the black mat surrounding the photo with a gold metallic pen then handed the pen to Dixie. She looked surprised and signed her name next to her picture.
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On the way back to the hotel with the privacy glass up to separate them from their limo driver, Dixie giggled when Andre lifted up her sweater and pulled up her bra to expose her big breasts. He pinned her back on the limo's backseat and sucked ravenously on her fat nipples, his left hand squeezing each breast so that the tip bulged tightly against his mouth. His other hand slid between her thighs and rubbed against the thick seam of her jeans. She felt it press against her clitoris and she let out a long appreciative moan as she opened her legs wider, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
She started moving her hips to press herself against Andre's strong fingers. When she started whimpering, he silenced her with his lips and adeptly opened the fly of her jeans giving his hand access to her bare pussy. His mouth devoured hers as he pressed against her with his entire hand. She started breathing heavily and he took his hand away from her crotch, slipping his wet fingers in her mouth so she could taste her own arousal.
She sucked on his fingers, using only the suction power of her lips to slide them in and out of her mouth. They stared at each other while she got his fingers wet and his cock hard. He watched her with an almost cool clinical interest but finally closed his eyes and groaned his approval.
Dixie reached over and cupped the front of his jeans. She rubbed the large bulge there and he hissed his approval as she started to stroke its length more forcefully through the heavy denim. Suddenly he undid his fly and lifted his hips so he could push his jeans and briefs down to his knees.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dixie had no qualms about the risk of being caught in flagrante delicto. Just the idea that they could be caught half naked in the back of a limousine made her cream her pants without any physical stimulation.
Then there was the time limit. She had about thirty minutes to get Andre off before they reached their hotel. A challenge she pursued with enthusiasm.
She was hoping to suck on his cock for a few minutes and then straddle him so she could look out the rearview window as she rode his cock. Unfortunately it didn't work out quite as planned.
She went down on him, firmly holding his big cock in her one hand as her mouth closed over its helmet-like head. She bobbed up and down over it and felt him lean back in the seat with his arms stretched across the back of the seat as his hips moved up and down with the rhythm of her mouth. A deep moan escaped his lips and she continued on for a few minutes, working up more saliva and swirling her head over his cock as she worked her mouth up and down its length while breathing in his musky scent.
It didn't take him long to start fucking her mouth. He pulled her hair back into a ponytail and then pushed the back of her head down as he humped her mouth, his cockhead sliding down her throat causing her to gag noisily. The noise aroused him more because he kept his grip on her head until she pulled her head back to get some air.
His cock was soaking wet with her saliva when she let it pop out of her mouth. Using the tip of her tongue, she trailed it along the bulging veins that marbled its slippery surface. He groaned and she sucked on the belly of his cock and he hissed as he felt his cum surge through his balls, working its way up his dick.
In a low raspy voice dripping with lust, he said, "Suck it, baby. Take my cock in your hot, wet mouth." There was nothing polite or proper about his British accent.
She teased him by running her lips up and down its length, spitting up as she did to lubricate it. When it was good and wet, she used her hand to stroke it as she licked at his now hard balls, her tongue flicking over their surface like a snake's.
He said, "Oh baby, stop teasing, and suck my cock."
He pulled on her hair to get her to move her mouth to the head of his now throbbing shaft. She spit up on the tip, letting the gob of saliva trail from her mouth to his dick. He pushed on the back of her head as his hips pushed his cock up towards her mouth. She opened wide and took him inside.
His hands held her head tightly as he fucked her mouth. He was relentless now, sliding his dick down her throat, making her gag and her eyes water. She grabbed the base of his cock with her right hand to better control how much of his long cock entered her mouth. She started bobbing her head faster and could feel the blood pulsing through his shaft as she made slurping noises combined with a steady hum of enjoyment. She cupped his balls with her free hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.
He whispered a husky "Fuck!" Then he grabbed a handful of her hair and held on as she worked her mouth up and down his cock, her lips firmly gripping it as she used suction power to slide it in and out of her wet mouth.
She breathed deeply and smelled the heavy musky scent of his balls that indicated he was about to climax. Andre kept his grip on the back of her head so she had no choice but to accept his cum as it shot into her mouth. She guzzled it down, enjoying its sweet tangy flavor.
Andre let go of her head as he leaned back and thrust his hips upward. She heard his hands grab the leather seats, the soft leather squeaking beneath his fingers.
When most of his cum emptied into her throat, she continued teasing his cock with her mouth and tongue. He started breathing heavily and she backed off until only the head was in her mouth. She sucked strongly on it, her tongue circling around its crown.
He surprised her with a loud cry as his hand grabbed her hair and pushed her head back but not before the final spurt of his cum emptied onto her lips.
He pulled her upwards so that he could kiss her. Uninhibited by her cum filled mouth, his tongue poked at her own as his hands were busy playing with her bare breasts, his calloused fingers like sandpaper against her sensitive nipples. For some reason the roughness of his fingertips - calloused from years of plucking guitar strings - was incredibly erotic.
She straddled him and started riding his now flaccid cock through her jeans.
He stopped kissing her long enough to say, "Oh my poor luv didn't get her rocks off, did she?"
Before she could answer, he slid his long fingers down her open fly and beneath the waistband of her satin panties. His middle finger found her pink pearl and started circling it like an eagle readying itself to move in for the kill.
They stopped kissing as she pushed away from his chest and started riding his finger. He watched her as she went through a range of facial expressions. She knew her clit would be sore from his rough fingers but she was beyond caring.
He slid his middle finger up inside of her and he groaned as he felt her wet silkiness. Then the two neighboring fingers joined in and she started panting as she rode his fingers faster and faster.
He saw how she tried to get her clit to rub against his probing fingers so he positioned the pad of his thumb on her clit and pressed down on it. She whimpered but kept up her manic rhythm.
She looked out the rear window of the limo imagining someone getting blurry shots of her riding Andre's lap - one of the most eligible and desirable bachelors in the world - with her bare breasts visible beneath her pushed up bra and sweater. She pictured men getting off looking at the pictures of her and wanting to fuck her so badly that they stroked themselves dry, picturing her mouth sucking every last bit of their cum or watching as they came on her breasts or face.
With a gasp of surprise her pussy clenched Andre's probing fingers and she threw her head back as she climaxed, her breasts pushed into his face. She whimpered some more when his talented tongue flicked out over her swollen nipples and another orgasmic tremor shook her body.
Dixie finally collapsed against Andre's chest her heart thumping like a drum, the crotch of her jeans wet and the air in the limo smelling of their sex. She opened her eyes and saw they were almost back at the hotel. She sat back in the seat and quickly composed herself after opening the window a crack to let in what passed for fresh air in the Big Apple. While she did, Andre laughed as he buttoned up his fly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
July 2013
They were in Paris for the band's last performance to be held a few days before Bastille Day. The band had the top floor of one of the more prestigious hotels in the city and Andre's suite had a beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine River.
In Europe, Dixie and Andre found they could sneak out and explore the cities without being recognized, something much less likely in the United States. Dixie noticed a few people scrutinizing Andre as if they knew him from somewhere but couldn't remember where and by the time they might have recognized him the two of them were out of sight. Andre impressed her with his ability to speak passing Spanish, Italian, German, and French. They loved exploring restaurants patronized by locals and looking for strange and funky attractions. They both shared a love of food and a child-like sense of curiosity and desire for playful fun.
In Paris they planned to take in as much of the city as possible since they had some down time before the band's concert. They spent their first day wondering the streets of Montmartre, the Mount of Martyrs, aptly named for its venture through Paris's red light district, its Boulevard de Clichy of sex shops, sexy cabarets, and peep shows and its commercialized tourist traps to finally ascend to the hill's destination the Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur. Although Parisians would tell visitors it was the martyrdom of St. Denis, the patron saint of France, who was decapitated around 250 AD by the Romans atop the hill that is now Montmartre. St. Denis is depicted throughout Paris holding his head in his hands as he was purported to have done after his death while he continued preaching for six miles before dropping dead near the base of the hillside.
Dressed like a couple of penniless bohemians armed with sunglasses, they explored the narrow streets of Montmartre. They solemnly walked among the famous graves of Cimetière de Montmartre, the cemetery eerily quiet amidst the hustle and bustle of the surrounding busy streets of Montmartre outside its brick walls. The cemetery's above ground monuments reminded her of old cemeteries in New Orleans. They spotted the final resting places of popular French singer Dalida, painter Edgar Degas, cartoonist Francisque Poulbot, pop singer Michel Berger, and writer Alexandre Dumas-fils the illegitimate son of writer Alexandre Dumas and famous for his novel Camille that was the inspiration for Verdi's 1853 opera La Traviata.
After leaving the cemetery they walked along Rue Joseph de Maistre where Dixie dragged Andre into a tiny shop called Tombées du Camion that sold all kinds of odd little trinkets from doll parts to antique tins of Vaseline. The shop's name literally meant "Fallen from the Truck". Dixie bought some porcelain doll heads and busts, vintage buttons, and wooden vintage typeset letters. She also bought little odd trinkets and doll eyes for her friend Nadine to use in her mosaic work and a half dozen colorful glass eggs for her aunt.
Leaving the shop of oddities they turned onto Rue Lepic, passing all kind of tiny boutiques and cafés until they deviated towards Place Suzanne Buisson, a small park where St. Denis is purported to have finally collapsed after being beheaded atop Montmartre. They sat on a park bench to rest as they watched children run and play.
Andre asked, "Do you ever plan to have children?"
"Never gave it much thought. I always thought I'd wait until I met and married Mr. Right if I ever did. Having been a child in a fatherless home, I'd prefer the father be involved in the child's life." She turned to look at him and asked, "And you?"
Andre chuckled. "If my mother has her say I will. She keeps insisting that I concern myself with finding the right woman and settling down to have a family. She would like at least two grandchildren."
In a quiet, gentle voice barely above a whisper, Dixie asked, "But what do you want?"
He looked off into the distance, no longer laughing. "I have had women try to get pregnant by me." He sighed. "They see it as a meal ticket, which I find deplorable. It is one of the reasons I am so discriminating about my lovers." Still staring into the distance, his right hand rested on her left knee and gave it a squeeze before letting go. "I always imagined I would find the right woman, marry, and have a family. Finding the right woman willing to settle down is the difficult part." He looked at her then with a sad smile on his face before reaching for her hand as he said, "Come on. Let's move on."
They meandered back to Rue Lepic and stopped for lunch at the Moulin de la Galette, a windmill turned restaurant and one of the few remaining windmills that once filled the hillside during the seventeenth century. The windmill and restaurant were immortalized by Van Gogh and Renoir in some of their paintings. They sat on the terrace along the tiny canal that ran alongside the restaurant and ordered their delicate brown crepes topped with sausage, egg, and mushrooms.
As they waited for their food Andre said, "Should we check out the Place Du Tertre next? That is where the artists sell their work."
"Sure, that sounds like a good place to buy a souvenir although probably an expensive one."
The small stream running alongside the terrace bubbled over rocks masking their conversation from other diners.
Andre said, "You know, luv, you don't have to worry about the cost. I will gladly buy you want you like."
Dixie played with the stem of her wine glass. Every meal seemed to require wine in France. "You know I don't like to take advantage of you."
He laughed. "That is what I like about you, luv, you aren't like the other women I have known. It is why I am being generous with you."
He reached across the table and gently touched her hand with his calloused fingertips. She felt a shiver that reverberated through her body all the way to her clit at his touch. He was so fucking tempting in every way: his big cock, his beautiful body, his musical talent, his great personality, and most of all his wealth. He was beautiful and exotic reminding her of a big cat full of grace and power. It would be so easy to fall in love with him for all superficial reasons.
They'd known one another for almost a year yet she really didn't know him. Living on the road was not like living in a home. She didn't know if he was messy, controlling, or petty. He wasn't the first wealthy man she had an affair with although he was the wealthiest. She quickly learned that wealth oftentimes made people think they could control the other person, as if their being the bread winner made them the dominate partner in a relationship. So far with Andre, he didn't push her but if they lived together he might be different.
She smiled at him and said, "We shall see."
Their food arrived to save her from discussing it further.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After lunch they continued on to the Place Du Tertre. As they neared the artists' enclave, they were approached by "artists" offering to sketch them. Andre quickly held up his hand and said, "Non," and rushed Dixie along the street where they were accosted by similar "artists" manned with sketch pads. Andre refused them all, growling at a few who were too persistent.
When they seemed to have lost the worst of them Andre said, "They are scam artists. They will draw your portrait, very poorly I might add, and then ask you an insane amount of money for it. If one is able to stop one tourist, the others are drawn like vultures to a fresh kill. They give the true artists in the Place Du Tertre a bad name. I have no idea why the city endures them."
The small square was surrounded by colorfully painted cafés seemingly attempting to outdo the other to get tourists' attention or possibly to inspire the brush of local painters. In the center of the square were colorful umbrellas and paintings. Even the artists themselves were colorfully dressed and speckled with paint. One of the requirements for renting space is that artists must have a work in progress on display.
Dixie strolled slowly through the artists' exhibits looking for the perfect souvenirs for her aunt and her friend Nadine as well as something for herself. Her Aunt Charity and Nadine were easy to buy for because they both had wildly colorful tastes. She bought two small paintings for them: one was a field of red poppies and daisies for Nadine and the other was a painting of a colorful scene of Montmartre with the Sacré-Cœur in the background for her aunt. Both were reasonably priced and within her budget. Then she found the perfect painting for her own home, which was more of a challenge because her house was done in pale neutral beige and tan with some dark brown and gray thrown in for contrast. She found one artist who used neutral tones but had a talent for creating depth in his paintings so that they almost looked three dimensional. The painting's depiction of Sacré-Cœur was similar to the painting she bought for her aunt but it was done in sepia tones rather than bright colors. You felt as though you could poke your finger through the arches of Sacré-Cœur's tower. The problem was he wanted a few hundred dollars for the fifteen by thirty inch painting.
Andre talked to the artist in French. Suddenly the man brightened and shook Andre's hand. Dixie heard the name Lila spoken and knew it was Andre's mother's name. Andre dialed a number on his cell phone and waited for an answer. When someone answered Andre said, "Mum, I am in Paris talking to one of your biggest fans. He is an artist at the Place Du Tertre. He is willing to give me a good deal on one of his paintings if you will say hello to him."
Dixie couldn't hear what his mother said only that her tone was cheerful when she was done laughing. Andre handed the phone to the artist who spoke in French. Andre looked at Dixie and said, "My mother is French so she speaks it fluently. She is probably better known in Paris than she is in London."
They heard Lila sing a chorus of "My Funny Valentine" and the artist laughed happily with the adoration of a child. When he hung up, he told Andre he could have the painting for what turned out to be around $100. Andre opened his wallet and handed the man the money. The artist carefully wrapped Dixie's painting in paper and string before handing it to her.
When they walked away, Dixie grabbed the front of Andre's shirt and pulled him to her to kiss him. He instinctively put his arm around her to hug her so that her breasts pushed up against his chest. Then she whispered in his ear, "I'll pay you for the painting later."
She laughed as she turned away from him and he playfully slapped her ass causing bystanders to giggle in their wake.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dixie bought some souvenir shopping bags for her paintings along with other souvenirs in a boutique near the Basilica. They grabbed an iced coffee and chocolate croissants from a local bakery and continued towards Sacré-Cœur, approaching it from the west where there were fewer steps. Dixie took photos of the exterior of the Basilica from various angles, focusing closely on the equestrian bronze statues of St. Louis IX and St. Joan of Arc that appeared to guard the Basilica's entrance.
Inside Dixie was unable to take photographs but she did buy souvenir postcards and some beautiful rosaries at the Basilica's gift shop.
Before descending the slope to the Square Louise Michel, Dixie took some final pictures of Paris as seen from the front of the Basilica. Other than the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Basilica was the highest point to view Paris. Dixie took off her sandals and with Andre laden down with her paintings she raced him down the stairs laughing all the way. Halfway to the bottom, they sat and rested on a bench while Dixie put her shoes back on. From their vantage point they still had a beautiful view of Paris. Young people, many lovers, sat or lay on the lawn between the two sets of stairs lazily enjoying the view of the City of Light.
Andre put his arm around Dixie and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in his fresh smelling cologne. It reminded her of a comforting freshness like freshly laundered cotton. She felt Andre twirl her hair in his fingers as he said, "We still have all the sex stores to explore on the Boulevard de Clichy." He kissed her ear and stuck the tip of his tongue in her ear making her shiver with delight.
She turned and kissed him before saying, "Okay, you perv. Let's go."
When they reached the Rue Tardieu, Andre said, "Let's stop at the Wall of Love."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They followed the Rue Yvonne le Tac until they came to Place des Abbesses where a carousel was set up. Dixie said, "If the seats on the carousel weren't so damn small I'd say we should go for a ride." They both looked longingly at the small carousel. Instead of horses or other creatures to ride, it had things like little trucks, a stagecoach, and a little Viking ship.
They walked across the Place hand-in-hand until they came to the entrance to the little park where the mural of "I love you" was written 311 times in 250 languages. Dixie looked at "Le mur des je t'aime" and said, "I really expected something greater. What does that say about me?" She laughed.
Andre grabbed her and kissed her. He asked a couple if they would mind taking a picture with Dixie's camera. He kissed her again as the woman snapped a few pictures. She handed him back the camera and he looked at the shots. They looked like two people very much in love. He said, "You will definitely have to give me one of these."
She kissed him again and said, "You are such a sentimental fool." She laughed as she pulled away and said, "Come on, let's look for those sex stores and see if we can find anything interesting." She wiggled her eyebrows at him before taking off in a gallop, giggling like a little girl as he chased after her.
They walked down the Rue Houdon to the Boulevard de Clichy which was Paris's red light district. Dixie laughed at a McDonald's and a French tavern flanking an X-rated movie theater. They decided to stop in the tavern for a drink and noticed it was open mic night. For the hell of it, Dixie had Andre ask how she could go about singing when she noticed they had a piano on stage. She told him, "I'd like to do ‘Little Girl Blue' on the piano."
She listened as singers and musicians got up to play all of them obvious amateurs, the music consisting of a variety of genres. She was eager to see how well she would fare in Paris as she waited for Andre to return to their table.
He sat down and said, "I signed you up to play. They will announce you after two more performers."
As the second singer was winding down she suddenly felt butterflies circling her belly. She hadn't played the piano in months and hoped her fingers wouldn't desert her. When the tavern's owner announced her, she actually jumped and Andre grabbed her arm. "Good luck, luv."
She hurried to the stage.
The owner announced the song she would play and she sat at the piano. She started to play. The beginning chords were simple, almost like a child's song. The audience paused when the chords grew much more complicated and majestic before she started singing.
The song was a Nina Simone original, a little jazzy and a great deal bluesy. After the first verse she noticed that the audience was quiet. People had stopped on the street to stand in the doorway to listen. Even the people sitting outside weren't distracted by the traffic on the boulevard, they sat mesmerized watching and listening to her.
She noticed a woman sitting alone at a table near the makeshift stage crying as she sang the final chorus of:
"No use old girl You might as well surrender 'Cause your hopes are getting slender and slender Why won't somebody send a tender blue boy To cheer up little girl blue"
When the song was over, she stood up. The audience gave her a standing ovation. She felt herself blushing as she bowed and smiled at them before stepping off the stage.
She sat back down at the table and Andre reached across and grabbed her hand. "That, luv, was beautiful, simply beautiful."
She was thankful for the dimming light outside because her face was probably flushed a bright pink. The owner approached their table and started to speak to Dixie in French. When he was done, she looked questioningly at Andre.
Andre gestured at the man and said, "He wants to know if you'll sing another song."
Dixie took a drink of her wine for courage and said, "Sure. I can sing ‘There Must Be a Better World Somewhere'."
Andre interpreted for her and the manager bowed to her and said, "Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle." He directed the rest of his comment at Andre. When he walked away Andre said, "He'll introduce you after the next performer."
Dixie polished off the rest of her wine. A waiter hurried to their table and offered her a refill on the house. When he returned with a full glass, she drank a big gulp as the owner announced her return to the stage.
She made her way to the stage amidst applause and whoops of approval. She sat down at the old upright piano and started playing. She started to cry tears that did not affect the pitch of her singing when she got to the lyrics:
"Every man I want wants somebody else. Every man I love loves somebody else Yeah, every man's got a license to break my heart And every love affair is over, before it gets a chance to start."
She wasn't the only one in tears. The lone woman sitting near the stage also cried her cheeks damp with her tears. She gave Dixie a forlorn smile.
The audience loved it and she heard people yell things out in French that she hoped were encouraging as she finished the song. Again the audience went wild as she stood up and bowed. People smiled and yelled things to her in French. The best she could do was smile at them and return to Andre.
She sat down and gulped the rest of her wine. She said, "Let's get out of here."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By the time they walked along the Boulevard de Clichy the sun was setting and the stores' neon lights came to life. The street looked better after dusk when all its grime and graffiti were less visible and the colorful neon lights brought it to life.
Andre and Dixie giggled inside sex stores and gasped in wonder at the works of art, risqué photographs, and antique sexual contraptions - many from the infamous Le Chabanais Paris brothel - on display at the Musée de l'Erotisme.
As they walked towards the Moulin Rouge, Dixie bumped her hip against Andre's and said, "I'd be lying if I said all those images of big dicks didn't get me horny." She bumped her hip against his again and smiled at him.
He said, "Than we better forego dinner and get back to the hotel, right?" He leaned over and kissed her, causing her to giggle.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their hotel was across the Seine River from the Eiffel Tower and Andre had a luxury suite that included a terrace overlooking the famous Parisian landmark. As soon as the door was shut, they were all over each other. Dixie's paintings and purchases were quickly set aside before they left a trail of clothing in a path to the bedroom.
The hotel was once the home of Napoleon Bonaparte's grand nephew, who objected to the view of the Eiffel Tower, which he considered an eyesore. He had his sleeping quarters moved to the street side of the building to escape it. Now the hotel was home to luxury rooms and suites with Andre's having an unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower and Sacré-Cœur from the corner terrace.
Andre pushed Dixie down on the king-size bed after she swept back the covers. He sucked hungrily on her plump nipples, taking turns sucking one and then the other. His cock was hard and it pressed against her thighs and poked eagerly at her pussy lips.
He felt her pull at his hair as she said, "Let's take a shower first and get this funk off of us."
He laughed as his tongue flicked back and forth over her hardened nipples, her body shivering with excitement beneath his hands. "No, luv, I want to taste all of your funkiness." With that his mouth trailed down her body, kissing the mound of her belly then showering her inner thighs with quick wet kisses.
She objected. "No, Andre, I'd prefer to shower. I feel sweaty and nasty."
He ignored her. She kept her thighs together out of protest and he spread the top of her slit with his fingers and stuck his tongue within its folds, seeking out that little bud of delight that he knew would open her thighs like a sun kissed bloom. His nose pushed its way within her folds smelling her mustiness, an accumulation of a day spent in the summer sun walking for miles and miles. It further aroused him and he felt his cock twitch with excitement. His tongue probed her wet silky walls and found its buried treasure. He alternated between tickling it with the tip of his tongue and sucking on it greedily with his mouth, acting as though he were a remora fish sucking the flesh of a stealthy shark.
It didn't take her long to open her thighs. He wrapped his arms around them and lifted them up to his shoulders as he buried his entire lower face in her pussy. He attacked it not only with his tongue and mouth but his nose and chin as well. He stuck his nose within her folds and breathed heavily of her scent knowing the smell would stay with him even after he showered. He'd be able to smell her sex even while they sat down later to a leisurely meal when a simple sniff would further arouse him. He used his day's worth of beard growth to rub against her now very wet folds and hard little nub. He was rewarded with a harsh gasp followed by an animal-like grunt as he felt her push her pelvis against his face.
He started making growling noises as he devoured her cunt, rubbing his face back and forth against her fully aroused clitoris. She groaned and started panting, her breath coming out like mewling whimpers. He could feel the orgasm building inside her. Her noises were as indicative of its approach as her body's responses. She was clawing at the covers, lifting her face to better watch his face in her pussy then falling back as she let out a tiny cry of defeat.
Her pussy was wet with her arousal along with the lower half of his face. While he grunted and growled, he let go of one of her thighs and she rested her bent leg with her foot against his shoulder. He moved his fingers between her soft wet folds probing them with his calloused fingertips. He lifted his head to watch her reaction as he slid three of his big fingers into her pussy and started finger fucking her. She let out a whelp of surprise and arched her back. Her eyes were closed and she whimpered, her fingers grabbing the sheet so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Andre loved seeing her like that: helpless; her chest, neck and face flushed with arousal; her long tawny blonde hair mussed in disarray; her teeth chewing on her lower lip when her tongue didn't poke out seductively to slide across her full lips.
He whispered, "Come on, luv, let go for me. Wash my hand with your cum."
She said nothing but he felt her muscles tense, her foot pushed almost painfully down on his shoulder. She started playing with her nipples, rubbing them and pulling on them as she groaned and whimpered. He enjoyed seeing her pull painfully on her fat nipples as if the pain no longer mattered as her body vibrated with excitement.
He crooked his fingers in search of her G-spot and while he did that his mouth latched onto her clitoris and he sucked and licked it until she screamed. His fingers met with some resistance as her pussy walls tightly clenched his fingers making it difficult for him to ram them inside of her.
Suddenly the moment he had been waiting for occurred. She was wiggling beneath him, her whimpers rising in crescendo with each of his thrusts. She let out a loud cry while lifting her hips and her pussy shot a stream of cum into his face. He closed his eyes and allowed its warmth to flood over him.
He removed his fingers and worked himself up her supine body. He knew his wet face was leaving a snail-like trail up her belly, across each flushed breast, and then in the crook of her neck. He moved his right hand between them to grasp his throbbing cock and hissed when the head met her flooded pussy. He grunted as he slid it up and down her slit before plunging it inside her.
He whispered in her ear, "God, I love this pussy." Then he thrust into her with such force that he had to brace his arms around her head to prevent her head from ramming against the padded headboard.
Her body came back to life as he felt her legs wrap themselves around his waist. She arched her back and he enjoyed watching her face contort with renewed arousal: the biting of the lip, the snake-like tongue flicking out as if to taste the air, her eyelids heavy with lust and her eyes glazed as she looked up at him.
She gripped his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his skin, as her body arched. Her hips were rolling with his rhythm and his balls were slapping loudly against her as he stabbed at her molten wetness.
His nine inches was buried deep within her, his pubic hairs grinding against her outer lips and clitoris. He growled, "Cum again for me, baby, get this cock."
He felt her legs tighten around him and her fingers dig into his flesh as he pumped his cock into her. He closed his eyes to deaden the stimulation; the look on her flushed face, the dewy sweat above her lips and on her brow, the look of her wild hair fanned out around her beautiful face. He concentrated on jabbing his cock into her, rubbing it against her clitoris and attempting to hit her G-spot.
Behind his closed eyes the images from the Musee de l'Erotisme flashed across his mind like a sex-filled slide show. He saw the special sleigh-like contraption nicknamed siege d'amour or "love-seat" made like a gynecological examination table where prostitutes would lie back and put their feet on top of stirrups, their knees bent and thighs spread wide as a very corpulent man stepped onto special foot braces and grabbed onto bars protruding on each side. It was said to have been built for the plump Edward VII the Prince of Wales for when he spent time at Le Chabanais, Paris's most famous bordello. He recalled the life-size sculpture of a male robot on one bended knee holding up a woman as he ate out her pussy. The fur padded chair with the hole in the seat where a vertical wheel filled with tongue like flaps could be turned to stimulate the sitter's genitals. The hundreds of sculptures, paintings, drawings and photographs of human genitalia and people fucking in one form or fashion along with small dioramas affording the viewer peeping Tom status of small figures fucking within its enclosure.
Dixie cried out and he felt her pussy squeeze his cock as she drenched it with her cum. She whimpered her voicing rising in scale as she climaxed again. He kissed her mouth to silence her and himself as his cock exploded inside her hot, wet center. He heard the mingling of both their cum making slurping, sucking noises as he spasmodically thrust his cock inside her.
She squeaked beneath him as her hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his head. That was followed by low moans as he slowed his thrusts as his dick emptied inside of her. He felt her pussy walls throb around him in time with her rapidly beating heart.
He wanted to collapse on top of her. Sweat was dripping from his brow even in the cool air of the bedroom. He rested his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her soft, powdery perfume. He flicked his tongue over the pulse point on her neck and she started giggling. Her stomach muscles ended up pushing his cock out of her pussy and his flaccid dick lay like a sleeping snake between her thighs.
He gave her a quick peck on the mouth and said, "Now it is time for that shower."
It wasn't until he got off the bed that he realized he fucked her without a condom.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After they showered and wrapped themselves in the hotel's thick terrycloth robes they decided to order room service. They looked at the room service offerings and Dixie looked up at Andre to say, "Do you really want to eat this?" The fine dining offerings included such Asian delights as shark fin stew and squid at mind boggling prices. Dixie was no shrinking violet when it came to other ethnic foods but she couldn't fathom trying such strange foods at those prices even if she wasn't paying.
Andre called a small Italian restaurant that someone recommended that was located above an Italian deli in the Saint Germain quarter near the oldest church in Paris the Église de Saint Germain des Prés. The church was all that remained of an abbey with parts of it dating back to the eleventh century.
Dixie listened to Andre talk in French and Italian. He dropped a name that she was unfamiliar with and apparently that was the magic word to get them a table.
They ended up getting dressed and taking a cab to the restaurant. The first floor was an Italian deli redolent with spicy meats and cheeses, its shelves covered in colorfully packaged goods including pasta, sauces, wines, and oils. The restaurant was accessible by a spiral staircase in the back of the delicatessen. The only thing indicating that it was there were a couple of chalkboards in French and Italian propped up next to the staircase.
Jazz music played quietly in the background as they reached the top of the stairs and they were seated at a table by the window looking out on Rue de Buci. The street was filled with small shops and restaurants.
Dixie ordered fettuccine alla polpa di granchio con datterini (fettuccine pasta with crab meat and tomatoes) and Andre ordered fettuccini culatello spigaroli e limone (perma ham and pasta with a lemon butter sauce topped with parmesan cheese). For an appetizer they ordered the four house cheeses of the day served on a bed of greens with tomato slices and breadsticks. Their waiter recommended the wines to accompany their meals and brought them their glasses along with "bouchees" a warm pastry with melted cheese and truffle oil.
After they polished off the bouchees, Andre said, "Come stay with me in England after the tour. Try out domestic life for a while. You can choose whether we stay in my London flat or the estate in North End Place about an hour from London."
Dixie felt her stomach clench. She had been waiting for a conversation like this to insinuate itself into their enjoyable adventures in Paris. She knew she could never follow Andre to England but she didn't want to jeopardize what time they had left in Paris. She played with her wine glass, twirling the stem in her fingers. She looked up at Andre with a smile and said, "Let's discuss this after the band's final performance and live in the moment, shall we?"
Now it was Andre's turn to play with a breadstick. He took a bite of it and chewed on it until it must have disintegrated. He finally said, "I take it that means no? I just hate to think of losing you when our tour is over. Is that so bad?"
Conversations hummed around them in various languages. Dixie looked around at the other diners who were nearly on top of them. She didn't feel comfortable having such an intimate conversation at that moment. She grabbed his hand from across the table and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Can we discuss this later back at the hotel?"
Andre smiled at her and said, "Of course, luv."
Their pasta arrived and they concentrated on eating. When they finished Dixie expected Andre to pursue the subject but he grew quiet after they ordered dessert. Dixie let out a quiet sigh of relief. She liked Andre and, truth be told, loved him a little bit. She would definitely miss his company when she eventually returned home. She'd miss the carefree lifestyle being with someone as wealthy as he was afforded her. She'd miss their adventures together exploring quaint restaurants and people watching. She'd miss his humor, sexiness, and British accent. And there was no denying that she'd miss his nine inch dick too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next morning Dixie woke up in her own hotel room. As she showered she wondered what else the day would bring between them.
When they returned to the hotel the previous night, he continued their conversation. They were sitting on the terrace outside his suite admiring the Eiffel Tower lit up like a Christmas tree across the Seine River when Andre asked, "Is this it for us?" He waved his hand about as if referring to Paris.
Dixie said, "You remember the astrologer at the party in Memphis? The one who looked like a female Buddha? She warned me that I'd fall for someone and have an affair. She also said that whether it would develop into something more depended upon how much we were each willing to compromise." She sighed and took a sip of wine. "I'm not sure how much I am willing to compromise. Do I want to tear up my life in America, leave behind my family and friends to move to England? Do I want to give up the singing career I love? And if I do give it all up, will it be for the right reasons?" She looked sadly at him and said, "I don't want to make the wrong decision and hurt us both."
"So all this time, you've been using me?"
She hated the hurt and anger in his voice. They never made any promises to one another. She never dreamed that a sexy, rich and famous man like him would even consider a long term relationship with a woman like her. Not that she had self esteem issues, she was just being realistic. Men like him didn't take up with plump women like her especially a man like Andre whose livelihood depended upon a favorable public opinion. Even with her insistence that they keep their affair private, there were still critical reports of him taking up with a "fat cow" like her. Few men in Andre's position could deal with that sort of criticism and she most certainly couldn't.
Dixie closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She measured her words carefully.
"Not anymore than you using me. You have made the past year, a time I thought would be wrought with stress and worry, thoroughly enjoyable. I'd go so far to say that it has been the adventure of my life. I hate to see it end but I also hate for us to eventually resent one another." She laughed halfheartedly. "Your fans would skin you alive for entering into a relationship with someone like me and the gossip mongering media would be the knife."
When he gave her a perplexed look, she continued, "Andre, seriously, do you think people wouldn't notice that I am not model-thin? Not that I'm ugly or unattractive but there would be all kinds of talk about my being fat. You'd get skinned alive but I'd be drawn and quartered. I admit my fragile ego would be severely damaged by a full media onslaught regarding my size. It is why I wanted to keep our affair private. Just the little criticism I have seen was more than enough for me."
Still hurt and angry, he said, "Do you really think I am that shallow?"
"No but I think too many people in the world are. I don't want you to feel obligated to constantly reassure me that you don't care about my size and God knows I don't want you to end up pressuring me to lose weight."
She titled her head back as if in defeat and tightly gripped the arms of her chair. She hated being put in this position and it was one of the big reasons she didn't want to get seriously involved with any one man. Life was much less complicated with temporary but enjoyable affairs with fun lovers.
She broke their silence. "I just don't want us resenting one another in the future and regret our decision to be together. Am I wrong?"
Andre stood up. "I need to get some sleep. You can let yourself out when you leave." He grabbed his wine glass and went inside. She waited until she knew he was in the bedroom to get up and leave. She had no idea if he would meet her to go to the Louvre the next day like they planned or not.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Prior to their disagreement the night before, they had planned on going to the Louvre when it opened at 9:00. Dixie planned to go with or without Andre. She got dressed like she planned, wearing well-worn sneakers, a pair of old jeans that were so worn they felt like brushed silk and a gold crocheted lace tank top with matching lining. She wrapped a wide caramel colored leather belt around her waist. The belt had a big silver oval buckle with a large turquoise stone at its center. She transferred her things into a hobo purse she made from scraps of luxurious fabrics in brown, gold, orange and turquoise blue. The patchwork purse was embellished with lace, brocade, beads and rhinestones. It fit comfortably across her body so she could walk about hands free.
She took a final look in the mirror. An attractive woman stared back at her. She smoothed her hands down over her breasts thinking she had a figure that would have been the epitome of sexiness back in the 1950s and early 1960s but now it was considered fat. Her breasts and hips were full but her waist was considerably smaller. Everything was well proportioned just in more abundance than what society deemed beautiful.
Her phone rang as she was braiding her hair. She stopped to answer it. It was Andre.
"Are you ready, luv? I just finished dressing."
"I'll be ready by the time you get down here."
"I like my women punctual." He chuckled. "I'll be right down."
Dixie wound the rubber band around the end of her braid. As she put on her dangling amber earrings, she thought about Andre's attitude. He acted as though nothing untoward happened between them the previous night. She didn't know if that was good or bad.
He knocked on her door as she was putting on her lipstick. She smiled when he said, "Room service," with a noticeable lisp in his voice. She chuckled before grabbing her bag and opening the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They decided to get something to eat at the Louvre rather than pick something up at the hotel so they caught a cab to the Louvre for the two mile ride. They arrived before the doors opened and stood with other tourists eager to enter the former palace to view one of the world's most impressive collections of art.
As they waited, Andre said, "You know you can't use the flash on your camera to take pictures."
Dixie took out her 35mm SLR digital camera and went through the settings to turn off the flash. She took a picture of the glass pyramid that marked one of the entrances to the museum to test the camera.
They spoke of mundane things as they patiently waited beneath dark clouds that looked more like billowing smoke. He'd noticed that Dixie also packed a small collapsible umbrella in her fancy fabric bag.
On impulse, he pulled her arm to bring her closer to him and kissed her cheek. She giggled like a schoolgirl and affectionately leaned against him. He loved to hear her laugh. Despite the deep sexy timbre of her voice, her laughter was like the tinkling of wind chimes. When she laughed, even just a giggle, her body and particularly her full delightful breasts jiggled sexily.
Andre had been to the Louvre many times before. While growing up, his parents played jazz clubs throughout Paris and often brought him along. They enjoyed exposing him to the best the world had to offer in the way of culture. The Louvre was one of their favorite haunts. He remembered walking the hallowed halls with his parents quietly commenting on the works of art, teaching him about art itself as well as world history without him even realizing it. He learned where all the greatest works of art were located including the "Mona Lisa", the armless "Venus de Milo", the headless "Winged Victory of Samothrace", the "Raft of Medusa" a macabre painting based upon a true story of shipwreck and cannibalism, the romantic sculpture "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss", and the eerily life-like "Seated Scribe" an Egyptian sculpture estimated to be close to 4,700 years old. He even learned about sex viewing such art as the sculpture "Borghese Hermaphroditus" the Roman sculpture depicting a bi-sexed being with the body of a nude woman but the genitals of a man, and he learned what a concubine was after viewing Eugène Delacroix's violent and life-size figure painting "The Death of Sardanapalus".
He shared his childhood experiences with Dixie who was enthralled by his stories as well as the art. He was surprised by her comments about the art's symmetry, the painters' depiction of motion and emotion in their brush strokes, and her surprise by the artistic skills of sculptors who lived centuries before the birth of Christ. This new revelation of her intellect made him admire her and love her a little more.
It was no surprise that amidst the romantic artwork that he imagined her teaching their children as his parents taught him but she would do it with her soft and soothing American southern accent. He pictured their beautiful children with pale golden skin and light hair listening with curiosity.
He watched her take dozens of pictures of the many famous stone sculptures. Being tall, she had an advantage of being able to take pictures over other people's heads. She focused to get close-ups of different aspects of the sculptures - faces, hands, wings, feet, and even bare asses.
Starving, they stopped for expensive baguette sandwiches, sharing a fresh fruit salad at the Café Mollien overlooking the main courtyard where the glass pyramids were located. They were able to get a table on the outdoor terrace since the earlier dark clouds had turned to a pale gray with the sun trying valiantly to peek through their numbers.
Andre, caught up in the romance of the moment, stopped himself from asking Dixie to marry him. She was such a delight whether it was licking a dollop of dressing off the corner of her mouth or talking reverently about famous works of art. He thought he could never tire of her, that their life together would never get boring.
After walking through most of the ancient exhibits, including parts of the castle's original moat in the lower ground floor, they slowly made their way back to the entrance. In the gift shop, Dixie picked out a dozen postcards and a few other less expensive souvenirs. It was while she was looking through a case featuring reproductions of some of the museums famous sculptures that she fell in love with a small bronze reproduction of one of Antoine-Louis Barye's sculptures of an owl, wings outstretched, as its talons closed upon a rat. The small bronze cost nearly $700 in U.S. dollars. She had Andre ask the clerk if she could see and touch it. He watched as she caressed it as if it were live. She reluctantly gave the sculpture back to the clerk and thanked her. While she wandered to look at some books, he told the clerk to wrap up the sculpture and handed her his credit card. He watched Dixie peruse through a book as the clerk rang up his purchase. He wanted the small sculpture to be a surprise.
She ended up purchasing over a $100 worth of small souvenirs including a cloth shopping bag featuring the image of the face of the model in the painting "La Grande Odalisque". While she paid, he slipped the owl sculpture into her shopping bag without her knowledge.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was their last night in Paris before the band's final performance. They returned to their respective hotel rooms to shower and change. It was after Dixie showered and was drying her hair as she walked naked about her room that she went through her purchases from the Louvre and discovered the small owl sculpture. She took it out of its package and held it in her hands. The surprise gift brought tears to her eyes.
She said half jokingly, "Damn you, Andre!" She returned it to its package and set it aside with the rest of her purchases.
She looked through her clothes to decide what to wear. During their performances, the backup singers dressed casually on stage. She liked to wear her handmade camisole creations in feminine colors and fabrics embellished with lace, brocade, sequins, beads, and embroidery. The sleeveless tops had narrow straps often requiring a strapless bra. She had two large suitcases that she lived out of on the road. One contained her jewelry, a few purses, and shoes which comprised of sandals, her worn sneakers, and two pairs of her signature cowboy boots. She picked out a camisole top trimmed with red velvet, red floral silk, pink and red lace and gold brocade along with mauve fringe. A former rhinestone necklace was sewn along the edge of the neckline and gold and red beads accentuated the front and back. She wore it with a pair of jeans and blood red cowboy boots. She pinned up her hair into a loose bouquet of curls and donned ruby red rhinestone earrings.
Andre knocked at her door. This time he called out in a high falsetto, "Telegram, miss," making Dixie laugh as she opened the door.
"You know that never gets old." She pulled him in and gave him a kiss.
He put his arms around her and said, "Mmmm...neither do you." He gave her a quick peck on the lips.
He touched her breasts, his fingers lingering over the lengths of lace. "Nice. Did you make this one too?"
She stepped away from him and wrapped a red burnt velvet shawl around her shoulders. "Yes." She looked down at herself and said, "Am I too casual?"
"Not at all, luv." He grabbed her hand and said, "We better go before I throw you on the bed and ravish you."
She giggled in response as he pulled her out of the hotel room.
They had a car take them to the restaurant located a few blocks from the Moulin Rouge in Paris' 9th District. The small restaurant was well known for its meats cooked over an open flame. It wasn't a romantic sort of place, light and intimate, the scent of wood and browning meats subtly perfumed the air.
One of the employees recognized Andre and they were seated at a corner table for two next to the second story window. The chef took their order and Dixie listened to him converse with Andre in French. They ordered a salad and escargot dripping in garlic butter for an appetizer and a rib roast of beef that they shared between them served with potatoes and sugar snap peas. The chef recommended a bottle of red wine with their meal.
As Dixie enjoyed culinary delights that she might not ever experience again, she thought how easy it would be to fall for Andre and continue this lifestyle forever. After half her meal and a couple of glasses of wine, she knew it would come to an end. She loved these expensive adventures with Andre but she also missed her simpler lifestyle where everyone spoke English, the prices weren't outrageous, and she was among friends and family. Plus the privacy, she yearned for a quiet place on a secluded lake.
She enjoyed their evening together and the meal was superb. The least she could do was make sure Andre enjoyed the night once they returned to his hotel suite.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A little high from sharing a couple of bottles of wine with Dixie, the two of them stumbled into Andre's suite, giggling like little kids. Even the amazing view of a lit up Eiffel Tower through the wall of glass in the living room didn't distract them. Dixie bumped into a chair in the dark and started swearing. She'd pushed off her sexy red cowboy boots as soon as they entered the hotel suite and was veering about in stocking feet.
Andre lifted her up - no easy feat since he barely outweighed her - and carried her into the bedroom. He laughed as he tossed her onto the bed. She bounced and nearly fell off the edge, grabbing on and yelling, "Oh shit," as she grabbed for the covers. He stopped her from rolling off the bed and pushed her back onto the bed causing her to start laughing hysterically.
She said, "I am supposed to show you the time of your life tonight for being such a fucking great guy."
She sat up and started taking off her clothes, pretending she was a stripper by twirling them around over her head before tossing them onto the floor beside the bed as he watched her with curiosity.
He said, "I thought I was a great guy fucking."
She stood up and pulled down her jeans and panties while saying with a giggle, "Yeah, that too!"
She nearly fell over as her feet got caught up in her jeans and she kicked at them like they were alive and attacking her. Andre thought she looked adorably comical and he couldn't help but laugh. When she finally got free from her jeans, she picked them up and threw them at him, hitting him in the face. He tossed them aside and said, "Now you did it." He gave a mock maniacal laugh as he made to attack her.
Dixie squealed and pretended to evade him, giggling as she dodged him by running around the bedroom. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the moon and the brightly lit Eiffel Tower across the river. He caught up with her when she went out on the terrace, her skin as pale as the marble of the Louvre's statues in the moonlight. He could easily imagine, in another time, sculptor Bernini wanting her as a model.
He cornered her on the terrace and grabbed her. Her skin was smooth and velvety beneath his hands and she seemed to wrap herself round him like a boa constrictor. Her arms encircled his neck and her right leg curled around his left thigh. When they came up for air after a passion filled kiss, she said, "Let's get these clothes off of you."
He pulled her giggling back inside and closed the terrace door. The glass on the windows wasn't transparent from the outside so he didn't have to close any drapes or blinds. He turned on a light and started to undress. She had pulled back the covers on the bed and sat hungrily watching him. Her look gave him an extra sexual thrill.
She suddenly rummaged in her purse and pulled out small pillow-like packets of lubricant, wiggling them at him with a smile on her face. His cock was halfway hard and he instinctively stroked it as he asked, "What are those for, luv?"
She snickered insidiously and said, "That is for me to know and you to find out." She patted the bed next to her and said, "Here, lie down."
He went in the bedside table and got out some condoms. He didn't want a repeat of last night. He didn't want to chance getting her pregnant if she wasn't interested in a long term relationship.
He did as he was told and lay down on the bed. She straddled his hips and leaned over to kiss him. He could feel the heat radiating off her pussy against his dick. He groaned as he lifted his hips to grind against her. Meanwhile his hands rubbed her breasts, flicking his fingers over her nipples until they grew erect. He continued until she produced a low breathless moan.
She stopped kissing him and said, "Wait. Not yet." Then he watched as she moved down his body like a snake, her tongue leaving a titillating trail of wetness around his nipples, down the center of his belly, circling his navel, and then wiggling over his pelvis until she reached his inner thighs where her teeth playfully nipped at his sensitive skin. Her left hand grabbed his cock and tenderly stroked it as her mouth continued to tease him by kissing the area round his cock.
He pushed more pillows under his head and shoulders so he could watch her push his thighs apart and her right hand cupped his balls, giving them a squeeze.
She finally took his shaft in her mouth and moved her full, sensuous lips up and down and around its length. He closed his eyes and groaned as he felt her mouth generously lubricate his rod with her saliva and her lips sucked hungrily as she bobbed her blonde head up and down over his cock.
He opened his eyes again and watched her full breasts swinging like pendulums above his thighs. He lifted his right leg so that his knee pressed against her nipple and she let out a low groan that reverberated over the length of his dick. It also seemed to renew her enthusiasm, causing her to groan and growl as she devoured his cock like a wild primeval woman.
Her mouth let go of his cock with a loud slurp. He watched as she worked up a gob of saliva that she let drip from her mouth onto his tightly gripped cock. If he were to take a still shot of her at that moment, it would look like she just finished sucking him off and had cum dripping from her lips. The thought made his heart beat a little faster and he gasped. She looked up at him with a sly grin as her right hand started stroking him.
Prior to meeting Dixie, most women he encountered treated blow jobs as a necessary evil. They'd suck halfheartedly on his cock usually concentrating on the head and using their hand to pump him rather than their lips. Few approached fellatio with the same passion as Dixie. She seemed to get off on bringing him pleasure as much as he enjoyed receiving it. When she was done with him, her pussy would be dripping wet and more than ready for him to ram his cock into her without causing any discomfort. It was thinking about humping her like a wild beast that nearly brought him to the brink of orgasm.
As if sensing that he was close to climaxing, Dixie changed her tactics and concentrated on another area of his cock. This time she sucked on his balls as her hand stroked his cock, spreading her saliva up and down its length. He never knew that a woman gently clamping her mouth around his nuts and pulling on them could be so arousing. Before he met Dixie he would have cringed at the thought but now the stimulation almost made his cock explode.
To torment him further, Dixie stopped stroking his cock and let go of one of his nuts with a loud pop. She started kissing and licking at his inner thigh just close enough to his cock and balls to make him wriggle and gasp, her long braid tickling his thigh and dick. He wanted to grab the sides of her head and force his cock back into her throat but waited to see what she had in store for him.
Then he watched as she spread some of the lubricant she took out of her purse onto the fingers of her right hand. Instead of using it to stroke his cock, she filled her mouth with his nine inches and then slid her fingers up the crack of his ass. He bucked his hips in surprise as he felt her finger slip and slide up and down his crack. It produced a whole new sensation that made him moan with pleasure.
Her fingers circled around his sphincter, pressing against it, her finger tips threatening to invade it. He wasn't sure about this new sensation and concentrated on her mouth slurping up and down his cock. The fingers playing with his ass didn't cause any discomfort or pain; it was just an unknown sensation for him.
After a while it actually felt good when coupled with her mouth and left hand grasping the base of his cock. He started moving his hips in rhythm with her sucking. Each time he lifted his hips to thrust his cock deeper into her throat, she pressed against his anus with her lubed finger.
He started panting like a dog in heat as his orgasm built. Dixie was making loud slurping noises, taking most of his nine inches in her mouth until its head slid down her throat causing her to gag noisily and bring up more saliva. The friction of her lips moving up and down his shaft felt like it would cause his cock to burst into flames and her fingers playing with his ass enhanced the sensation.
She gagged on his cock one more time, flooding his cock with her warm saliva. She bobbed her head up and down over his pelvis making animal-like noises, her hair tickling his thigh. Suddenly she moaned and he felt her middle finger slide into his ass. She pressed it against the inside wall of his ass and it felt like she pressed a button that shot the cum out of his dick like a fire hose. He let out a yelp of surprise followed by low guttural groans as she hungrily sucked the cum shooting out of his cock.
He felt like the proverbial wet noodle. It was as if his bones melted and he was a molten blob on the bed. He started whimpering as Dixie removed the finger from his ass and diligently cleaned up the mess on his dick. Right before her sucking became uncomfortable or even painful, she stopped. She showered his inner thighs with light kisses then lightly kissed his nuts and the tip of his dick causing him to groan.
He opened one eye to look down at her when she stopped. She had a wily smile on her lips as she crawled up his supine body. She finally laid her cheek against his chest, her ear just above his heart and sighed as she hugged him with one arm. He finally found the strength to caress her hair, petting her was the only thing he had the strength to do to show his appreciation.
He was about to say something to her when he noticed she fell asleep, the smile still on her lips. He closed his own eyes and succumbed to his own weary body.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day, Reverse English went through a rehearsal at the AccorHotels Arena in preparation for their final performance that night. The lights were set up along with pyrotechnics, and the laser show. It seemed that concerts couldn't be held without a show of flashing lights and sparks.
Dixie and Andre weren't together. She spent most of the afternoon waiting for the stage crew to finish setting things up. When she was called upon for rehearsal, she took her familiar place on stage along with Mika and Amelia, the other two backup singers.
The Indigo album was heavily influenced by blues/rock performers like Stevie Ray Vaughan, ZZ Top, the Allman Brothers, Johnnie Lee Hooker, and Cream. It was a combination of old fashioned blues and rock. Since its release the album had reached number one on popular music charts the world over, their concerts drew the band's die hard fans as well as new blues fans. Of course that was the band's intention.
Reverse English was known for its ability to reinvent themselves and stay fresh. Some of their music had an almost folk-like quality with deep, meaningful lyrics while other songs were classic rock with plenty of emphasis on the band's instrumental skills.
Dixie was sitting in a stylist's chair in one of the backstage dressing rooms. A makeup artist was working on Mika next to her, meticulously applying the dark complected woman's makeup. Mika's hair was cut in a very short afro. She was a pretty woman, younger than Dixie, with a similar voluptuous build of her own but on a shorter frame. She noticed Mika was wearing tall platform boots with her jeans and black tank top along with her signature huge earrings. These were massive hammered gold discs that flashed in the dressing room lights.
Amelia, the third backup singer, was fidgeting with her cell phone in another chair. The makeup artist had started with her first and the light skinned black woman's face was perfect. Unlike Mika, Amelia's hair was done in long thin tawny blonde braids that reached halfway down her back. She had her hair drawn back from her face and clipped in the back. She wore all black - black jeans and a black t-shirt - with clunky black combat boots. She was taller and thinner than Mika but still a few inches shorter than Dixie's six feet. Dixie knew Amelia didn't like her and she thought it was either because she was white or because she was involved with Andre or both. No matter how much Dixie tried to be friendly with her co-worker, the woman gave her the cold shoulder. She learned to avoid her.
When the makeup artist finished with Amelia, the two black singers left the dressing room and Dixie was glad to be alone.
Gilda, the makeup artist, said, "I like your outfit tonight. Really edgy. Where did you get that belt?"
Dixie was wearing a black, off the shoulder knit top with long sleeves. The wide neckline was accentuated by slits across her upper breasts, revealing a peek at plenty of cleavage. She wore it with faded hip hugging jeans and black cowboy boots with fancy black lizard inlay and contrasting ivory stitching. The belt in question resembled a gun holster that rode low on her hips with a strap that went around her thigh. The holster portion was actually a pocket-like bag.
"I got it at a blues music festival in Albuquerque, New Mexico."
Gilda looked at Dixie and said, "Do you want to wear your hair up or down with those earrings? They will stand out more if you wear your hair up or pulled back." As if to prove her point, Gilda grabbed Dixie's hair and pulled it atop her head so she could see what the long strands of brown, black, and blue feather earrings would look like exposed.
Dixie said, "I think I'll wear my hair down but in a wild looking mane not quite ‘80s looking but close."
Gilda started with Dixie's makeup first, giving her a smoky eye look then she started on the singer's hair curling and teasing until it she created a wild tousled mane.
Gilda said, "Your hair looks great with that edgy cowboy look. You look like a bitch nobody would want to fuck with."
Dixie smiled at her in the mirror.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The audience's roar of approval after Dixie sang solo for a couple of choruses made her feel almost omnipotent. Its brightness burned deeply inside her during each performance but like a bad pill, it had its unpleasant after effects. She was ready to be alone for a while to recuperate from the frenzied schedule, the ego-blowing crowds, and Andre's female fans who were so critical of her.
The Paris concert was a big hit. People were excited in preparation for Bastille Day and the concert was like an ignition switch. It was one of the band's rowdiest concerts.
Afterwards the band went to a party held in their honor on a boat that sailed up and down the Seine River. Their host set his sights on Dixie. A wealthy young Parisian, he did an awful job of hiding his sexual attraction for her. He insisted on dancing with her throughout the night, grinding his cock against her as the night progressed.
Dixie found it both flattering and annoying. This wealthy, albeit handsome man who was only a few years older than her seemed to think that waving his money around and rubbing his cock against her was supposed to make her fall to her knees. She spent the night teasing him while holding him at arm's length. Not a difficult task since she was a couple of inches taller than him and outweighed him by about thirty pounds.
She also did it to make Andre jealous. After the concert he was surrounded by a bevy of beauties at the party and she was reluctant to get close to him. It was in public venues like this filled with rich beautiful people who attracted the paparazzi where the worst criticism of her was born.
That night she returned to her room alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In the days that followed the band's final concert, the group split up with most of the band members returning home to England while Amelia and Mika returned to the states. Dixie was going to leave for home when Andre convinced her to stay until after Bastille Day.
He argued, "I have the suite until the day after because I thought it would be perfect to view the fireworks in front of the Eiffel Tower. You can stay with me if you don't want to spend your own money on a room."
When she showed her reluctance, he cupped her chin, kissed her, and said, "I know you are returning home. Just humor me by spending a few more days with me in Paris."
She hugged and kissed him back thinking of all the kindnesses he had shown her throughout their affair. She would miss him terribly but knew she couldn't live in his world and continue to be happy.
Over the next few days they continued to explore Paris. They toured the Notre Dame Cathedral. They toured the Latin Quarter, visiting the Pantheon the resting place for such French notables as writers and philosophers Voltaire and Rousseau, novelist and poet Victor Hugo, a key player in the WWII French Resistance Jean Moulin, scientist Marie Curie, the "father of philosophy" René Descartes, and Louis Braille who created the Braille reading system for the blind.
They visited old book stores and Dixie coaxed Andre into fabric shops to interpret for her while she bought yards of silk, velvet, and lace remnants and had them shipped home. Dixie even talked Andre into going to the Marché aux Puces de Clignancourt one of Paris' most famous flea markets where she picked up old jewelry, vintage lace, and odd baubles.
They explored tiny restaurants tucked down cobbled alleyways. For lunch one day they had the most amazing cauliflower soup with lamb stew served family style. The next day they ate lunch in the basement of L'Eglise Sainte Madeleine where they had a very cheap lunch of fricassee de volaille aux champignons among local Parisians. At the time they were the only English speaking tourists and enjoyed a conversation with a retired Parisian couple who ate there once week. Proceeds from the meals went to charity so Andre insisted on donating 100 Euro on top of the ridiculously low cost of their delicious meal.
On the night of La Fête de la Bastille they spent it in Andre's hotel suite, readying themselves for the fireworks that would be launched across the river near the Eiffel Tower.
They sat out on the terrace overlooking the Eiffel Tower, sharing a double-size chaise lounge as they sipped merlot and waited for the fireworks display at 11:00 p.m. Earlier they snuck out to listen to music and watch the air show put on by France's Air Force and the military parade on the Champs-Elysées. Afterwards they pigged out on a meal of filet mignon covered with a bordelaise sauce, potatoes galette, and asparagus with béchamel sauce at a small local restaurant. They were feeling sleepy and lazy from a full day of festivities. When they returned to Andre's suite, they showered and were wearing the hotel's thick terrycloth robes as they sipped their wine.
Dixie rested her head on Andre's shoulder. She inhaled his clean refreshing cologne. Out of curiosity, she licked his neck to see how it would taste making him laugh.
He turned to look at her and said, "What are you doing, luv? Should I get out the garlic?"
She snuggled against his neck and kissed it. She whispered in his ear, "Your cologne smells so good I wanted to taste it." She gently grabbed his earlobe in her teeth and pulled.
"Two can play that game!" Andre pushed her back into chaise lounge and proceeded to growl and kiss her neck. She started giggling.
He suddenly stopped to ask, "Are you still determined to return to the States when we leave here?"
She buried her face against his chest. He had a smooth hairless chest, bulging with well toned muscles. She took in a deep breath and smelled more of his scent. Where moments before his scent made her happy, it now made her sad. Her arm was around his bicep and she gave it a squeeze as if she didn't want to let him go.
"I guess it is time for me to leave, isn't it?"
She opened her eyes and saw him take a long gulp of his wine. His hand was unsteady as he brought the glass to his lips.
He sighed. "I suppose it is time for us both to go home, huh?"
The silence that followed was deafening. It was hard to believe that half a million people crowded the streets below them and music was blaring in the park across the Seine. The sounds were barely a hum.
Andre whispered into the warm night, "You know I love you in my own way, right? You will always be special to me. I will always cherish this." He gestured with his arm towards Paris.
She kissed his bare shoulder where his robe had slipped open and said, "Yes, I do and I feel the same."
He kissed her as the fireworks starting booming in the background. The lights were off in the suite and the colors flashed like strobe lights across its walls. The fireworks only lasted a little over a half hour and in that time the two of them got so worked up that by the time of the explosive finale, Dixie climaxed from Andre's calloused fingertips stroking her pussy and he was as hard as a rock from her stroking his cock.
They moved into the bedroom where they quickly shed their robes. While Andre put on a condom, Dixie pulled back the covers on the king-size bed. She lay on the bed on her side, watching him rolling the condom onto his long dick.
She patted the bed next to her and they lay facing one another on their sides. She slung her leg over his hip and he scooted closer to her until their genitals lined up. They kissed as Andre poked at her pussy lips with the tip of his cock. He managed to reach around her thigh to guide his cock inside her. She let out a gasp of surprise when she felt his nine inches fill her up.
They gently rocked in sync with each other as they gazed lustfully into each other's eyes. Periodically they would kiss, their tongues teasing the other's, and sometimes their teeth would click against one another as they felt further aroused.
Dixie was sucking on Andre's tongue when he lifted the leg she had wrapped around his hip so that it was straight up and perpendicular to her body. He pulled away from her and, without removing his cock from inside her, he managed to straddle her other leg and start fucking her sideways. The new position stimulated them both in new ways and they groaned almost in unison as their hips automatically quickened their rhythm.
With each of Andre's thrusts he was banging into her G spot. She felt that full sensation building in her womb and she started to pant, hoping it would prevent her from climaxing too soon. She closed her eyes to concentrate, her tongue stuck out like a child contemplating a difficult math problem, when Andre's calloused fingers grabbed at her breasts. Her eyes popped open in surprise and she couldn't hold back the orgasm any longer. With a whimper, she climaxed and felt wave after wave of ecstasy pound through her, weakening her body until she felt like a puddle of goo.
A loud grunt indicated that Andre climaxed too. His grip on her leg tightened and his thrusts lost their steady rhythm and were more jerky spasmodic responses. He tilted his head back and his dreadlocks fell behind his shoulders as he cried out at the ceiling. As his thrusts slowed, Dixie had one final orgasm that shook through her body like an aftershock from an earthquake.
Spent, Andre rested his cheek against her upheld leg then he gave it a tender kiss before letting it fall. He got off of her and flopped onto the bed.
He quietly said, "I am going to miss that wet pussy of yours." He kissed her passionately on the lips, holding the back of her head as if afraid that she would try to escape.
She grabbed his ass cheek and said, "I'm going to miss this fine ass of yours too."
She leaned over and kissed his neck. Then she caressed his cock and whispered, "I'm going to miss this famous dick of yours." Then she poked her tongue in his ear, one of his most sensitive erogenous zones.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day they checked out of the hotel. Dixie had a flight back to the United States booked and Andre was returning to London. They kissed in the airport concourse, a sea of people moving around them looking on with smiles at the couple seduced by The City of Love.
As they parted, they both looked ready to shed tears. There were promises to keep in touch and visit one another but both doubted that they would. Their parting would be too painful and their being together too uncomfortable knowing their relationship would never last.
Dixie was thankful for the first class accommodations. The band paid for her flight home but she paid the difference to upgrade to first class. She put a mask on her eyes and pretended to sleep most of the way home to the States and actually slept the rest of the time.
Back in Milwaukee, she waited for her aunt to pick her up. She enjoyed an iced coffee at a café in the concourse until she saw her aunt hurrying towards the café where they agreed to meet before they went to retrieve her luggage.
She was relieved and sad about returning home. The frenzied schedule she had been following for nearly a year, the huge crowds of cheering fans, the affair with Andre were like a long high on uppers and she was experiencing the crashing aftermath.
Her aunt told her that her paintings arrived via UPS then she told her they had a welcome home party for her planned for the next night. Dixie wasn't looking forward to the barrage of questions and would have preferred some quiet time alone until her life went back to normal.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The night of the welcome home party, Dixie went through her wardrobe. Most of her clothes were at the dry cleaners or being washed. She chose a tan gauze sundress and ivory colored jewelry. She pinned her hair up in a sloppy twist, leaving tendrils hanging on each side of her face.
She entered her aunt's bar The House of Charity. It was the height of the tourist season in Kukola Bay and the place was packed. Buddy Guy was singing "Sweet Home Chicago" on the jukebox above the din of talking customers. Rocky, one of the bartenders, motioned for her to head to the side terrace. Dixie smiled and waved thanks to the crazy redhead.
Balloons festooned the doorway and she pushed through the door. The side patio was screened in and Lake Michigan glistened like a plate of glass in the background. As with any decorating her aunt did, it looked like a gay pride parade float explosion. Colorful votive candle holders sat atop the tables, colored strings of lights outlined the patio and big paper lanterns in a rainbow of colors hung from the ceiling. She was soon greeted with hugs and kisses.
A corner of the patio was set up as a makeshift stage. Her uncle Mike was sitting to the side of it, his guitar in its stand close to his side. She gave him a big hug and kiss. It had been more than a year since she last saw him. She whispered in his ear, "Care to play something for me to sing?"
Mike laughed and said, "Anytime you're ready, honey. What did you have in mind?"
A few minutes later, Dixie picked up the microphone while her uncle situated himself with his guitar. He started playing a few riffs while Dixie warmed up her pipes before breaking into "Hound Dog" originally sung by blues singer Big Mama Thornton but it was Elvis's rendition that made the song famous.
As Dixie let the music take over and she belted out the song Big Mama Thornton style, the reasons why she returned home started coming back to her. She felt her mood changing, her resolve strengthening. The fun, the familiarity, the slower pace, the freedom of it all came back to her in a heady rush. By the time she was done singing, she felt more like her old self.
Her uncle's old friend Jack came up to join them on the harmonica as Dixie sang "Rock Me Baby". People lined up along the sides of the patio to listen to them play. After a couple of minutes the partiers and surrounding crowd started clapping and swaying to the music.
Dixie looked out at the happy fans and didn't regret returning home one bit.
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