“Do you want to stay in New Orleans?” he asks.“No.” That choice is easy. The city isn’t alive anymore. I don’t think she’s been alive fo... a very long time. Laissez les bons temps rouler is a state of mind, embodied by the New Orleans of the past, not of its present or of its future. She lives in my memories of beads and feathers, masks and Voodoo, mausoleums and the scent of a stormed tossed river. “No, I don’t want to stay,” I repeat.“Wise decision,” Lucian agrees. He tilts my face up and. Ritu’s other hand went on to my right chest pec. I had done three reps of chest today and it was really popping out with an erect and big nipple. Her hands rubbed against my nipple and she started moving her hands further down to my ribs and my upper abs, all the way to my navel.“You must’ve trained really hard for all this”, said Ritu, “You know they have a steam room here in the washroom, you’ll dig it.” My clothes now forgotten, we all walk over to a transparent glass door with a wooden room. More

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