La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (3 page)

Whoa. "Um, yeah."

"Shame for such a pretty girl." The Roma
smiled, flipping over more cards. "Well, it isn't for lack of
trying, or lack of offers. All the men you meet, like your life,
are just
off
. Nothing is really wrong. They're just never
the right fit." He studied the exposed cards. Julia tried to follow
what he might be seeing, but she couldn't make heads or tails out
of any of it. All she saw were random pictures.

"You're a practical person, pretty low key
and down to earth, but there's more to you than what's obvious.
Under that good girl façade, there's a wild streak that simmers
just beneath the surface. I don't mean Bourbon St., flashing people
from balconies wild. This is a darker, dirtier wild streak." He
tossed a wink at her and she felt like a 13-year-old girl whose dad
had to buy her tampons. She looked over the cards again. How the
hell did he decipher all that from a few nonsensical images?

He flipped over a few more cards and
immediately raised an eyebrow. "Well, well." He grinned at her, a
big, fat, canary eating grin. "It looks like you're going to meet
the man you've been looking for in the next three days."

"What? Here? In New Orleans?"

The Rom nodded. "And it's going to bring
about the change you've been seeking. But it'll be more than just
new love, or lust, there's something about this man that will
answer the questions in your soul and awaken the woman that's been
locked away for so long."

That was quite a tall order for one man to
fill. Based on the books she read, Julia might be a romantic, but
she was a realist too. She certainly wasn't expecting Mr. Right to
fulfill every need she could conceive.

The fortune teller revealed some more cards.
His unibrow knitted even tighter together until it was a solid
black line across his olive forehead. "This can't be right," he
muttered.

"What?"

He shook his head. "There's darkness here.
Evil and...blood."

"What does that mean?"

He shook his head again. When he turned over
the next card, he jumped to his feet, nearly knocking the table
over in the process. "Reading's over," he said, bundling the tarot
cards in the blanket and shoving them into a plastic tub. This had
to be part of the shtick. "No charge, just forget you met me."
Yanking the table back, he folded the legs with hasty, jerky
movements. When he came for her chair, she rose unsurely.

"Um..."

"Just go. Reading's over." Folding up both
chairs, he tucked them, the table, and the plastic tub under his
arm and lumbered away awkwardly. Julia watched after him
astounded.

What just happened?

A brisk breeze blew up from the Mississippi,
tossing her hair in all different directions and chilling her even
more. Okay, she'd had enough weird encounters for one night. No
more stops until she was back at the hotel. She didn't even check
her map to make sure she was heading in the right direction. A
quick check to make sure the downtown skyline was in front of her
was enough. She was ready to be somewhere with a lock.

Luckily, the walk back to her hotel was
uneventful. Skipping the elevator, she took the stairs two at a
time and made sure she flipped the security bolt on her room
door.

Not that she was particularly superstitious,
nor was she a true believer of psychics and the supernatural. But
if engineering school had taught her anything, it was that there is
an awful lot about the world people don't yet understand, and some
of the stuff people think they "know" is only a good guess. She
wasn't arrogant enough to write something off simply because it
didn't fit into her image of the world.

Humans were just animals after all. If cattle
could sense pending earthquakes and dogs could predict seizures, it
wasn't that far of a stretch to think that, if developed, human
senses could expand beyond the common five.

Even if Julia didn't put a ton of faith in
the fortune teller's predictions, they were still disturbing. And
intriguing. Blood? Death? A true love?

But what had the Rom seen that finally sent
him running?

Thunderstruck, Julia shook her head. Falling
onto the chair, she scooped up her book. If this crazy first night
in New Orleans was an indicator, what could she expect from the
next five?

* * *

It was difficult paying attention to the
various speakers that churned through Power Point after Power Point
presentation during her seminar the next day. She diligently
scribbled notes on the provided handouts, trying to catch the key
points, but couldn't seem to keep her mind from wandering.

It wasn't just the crazy tarot reading that
spun through her mind. For some reason she kept thinking of
La
Luxure
. She couldn't help but wonder if it was like the
Goth-type bars described in books she'd read, where heavy
industrial techno pounded through the speakers and sexy bodies
writhed on the dance floor and fetish acts were performed live in
cages. She wondered about the dreadlock guy and his weird reference
to her blood type. Was he a regular patron of the bar? Was it
merely a drinking establishment or something more?

More than once she tried to force the
thoughts from her head and concentrate on whichever current speaker
was at the podium. And every time she failed. She wondered what it
would be like to actually walk down that narrow alley and go
inside. What type of people might she meet?

The thoughts were nothing more than mere
fantasies. She probably couldn't even find the place again, let
alone drum up the courage to go inside.

Lunch was a welcome escape from the monotony
of droning speakers. The caterers wheeled in Cajun favorites:
gumbo, crawfish, jambalaya, red beans and rice, and po'boys. There
weren't any oysters, but Julia wasn't complaining. A Bloody Mary
was all she needed to complete the meal.

Oh, they had those too.

Welcome to New Orleans.

"They've really thought of everything, huh?"
the guy standing behind her in line said.

"I don't know how they think we're going to
be able to concentrate this afternoon after a Bloody Mary or two,"
she replied, turning to greet him. He was around her age, late 20's
or early 30's, with sandy brown hair and a decent physique hiding
under his blue polo. He was cute and Julia was reminded of her
tarot reading. It
was
within three days...

"Maybe there's a siesta scheduled next."

"That'd be nice," she laughed. "But there
might be one anyway, scheduled or not." She held out her hand.
"Julia."

He shook it firmly, which she liked. She had
no use for men who wouldn't shake a woman's hand the same way they
shook a man's. "Dave." Their nametags announced who they were, but
it was nice to declare it formally. "So, Alton?" he wondered,
reading the rest of her nametag. "That's outside of St. Louis
right?"

"Yeah, just to the northeast."

Dave grinned. "I'm from Columbia." His tag
read,
Columbia Water & Light
.

"Oh, like
Mizzou
?"

"Exactly. We're practically neighbors."

Columbia, home to the largest university in
Missouri, was roughly halfway between St. Louis and Kansas City:
about a two-hour drive from Alton. They might not be the, "can I
borrow a cup of sugar" type of neighbors, but it was certainly
doable for a relationship. Of course, that was assuming
Dave
was the love the tarot reader had predicted, or that there would be
a new love at all. She was really jumping the gun.

Presumptuous or not, the prospect was
exciting.

"So, are you down here by yourself?" She
nodded and Dave seemed pleased to hear that. "Well, you're welcome
to join us." He gestured towards a table with a lone blond man
sitting at it. "I'm here with my coworker, Mike."

"Sure. Thanks." Subtly, she slipped her book
into her purse.
Blaise
would have to wait until later.

"In fact, we're heading out to Pat O'Brien's
after the conference for a drink if you're interested. Mike's
girlfriend Beth came down here with him, so it'd be the four of
us."

As the token vagina, men were always trying
to pair her up with another of her kind. It was unnecessary. Julia
worked almost exclusively with men and she was completely
comfortable socializing with them. In fact, from time to time, she
was known for channeling her inner construction worker. Clare was
actually the only female she associated with. But the gesture was
thoughtful nonetheless.

"That sounds fun."

She smiled at Dave. Maybe she was expecting
too much, but the tarot reader's words buzzed in her ears. No
matter what happened, meeting Dave and his friends at the famous
New Orleans bar not only presented the perfect opportunity to cross
one attraction off her tourist "to-do" list, but also had the
potential to be a very interesting evening.

* * *

Julia understood why Pat O'Brien's was such a
popular tourist destination. The courtyard was spectacular: all
brick, with a large fountain, multiple bars, and enough foliage to
make a person forget they were in a completely urban environment.
It was a tranquil escape from the debauchery of Bourbon Street.
Although pretty crowded, the energy was high but not too frat-y,
and at no point was Julia worried about being clobbered by beads or
flashed.

In spite of the cool temperature, they chose
a table outside. The moment they sat down a waiter in a green
uniform jacket approached their table. Julia stared at the drink
menu. There were pages of colorful drinks displayed in an array of
curvy glasses. They looked good, but were probably far too sweet
for her tastes and had bad hangover written all over them. She
flipped over the menu. Maybe they had a wine selection...

Wine was usually a risky choice at a bar.
Julia wasn't a wine snob by any stretch of the imagination, but she
did have a few requests. She preferred the wine to come in a normal
sized bottle, it had to have been opened within the last three
days, and her red wine couldn't come out of the cooler or a box.
Although box wines had improved in recent years...

"Julia? Do you want something to drink?" The
way Dave was looking at her, it wasn't the first time he'd asked
the question. In fact, they were all looking at her.

"Um, of course." Awkwardly, she fumbled with
the drink menu. She should have made a choice by now. Something
simple, a beer, gin & tonic, maybe a vodka drink...?

"You'll want a Hurricane," Dave told her in a
'Father knows best' tone. He turned to the waiter. "She'll have a
Hurricane."

Julia felt her hackles rise. She was pretty
sure she did
not
want a Hurricane. "Um..."

"They're yummy," Beth said, leaning towards
her and whispering across the table. Beth was classically pretty,
with long, straight blond hair and deeply tanned skin.

"Sounds good," Julia agreed with forced
enthusiasm, choking down her snippy retort and blinking away the
dirty look she wanted to flick at Dave. He probably didn't mean
anything by it, and according to her menu, the Hurricane
was
created at Pat O'Brien's, so as a good tourist, she should at least
try one while sitting in their courtyard. She just didn't like Dave
telling
her she wanted one.

"Dude, did you see that stripper on the way
here?" Mike said suddenly. "She had the biggest booty I have ever
seen."

"I saw her," Beth replied. "I don't think it
was real."

Mike looked at her incredulously. "What?
That's ridiculous."

"They have implants, you know." Beth turned
to Julia. "No one's real butt sticks out that far, trust me. It was
insane."

"So, Julia," Dave interjected, redirecting
the conversation. "Are you staying in the Quarter?"

"I am. On Conti and Royal. What about you
guys?"

"We're staying at the Holiday Inn."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Instead of the
Marriott. I mean, don't get me wrong, the Holiday Inn's okay, but
it's not a Marriott." Julia just smiled and nodded. Sometimes it
was best to keep one's thoughts private. "Is your hotel pretty
skuzzy?"

"No. It's fine."

Mike made a grunting noise. "This whole
city's pretty skuzzy. It's okay to visit, but I'd never want to
live here."

Julia shrugged. "I don't know. I kinda like
it."

"Not me. I wouldn't want to deal with all
these drunks all the time." Somehow, Julia was pretty sure not
everyone in New Orleans was drunk all the time and there was a lot
more to this city than Mike had seen. "Hey, but it's a great place
to party!" he added as the waiter delivered their drinks. "Start a
tab, my man!" he exclaimed, handing the waiter his credit card.

This wasn't exactly the night of adventure
Julia had in mind when she'd left her hotel. Sipping at the fruity,
rum infused cocktail, she tried to put all of her misgivings aside
and enjoy the bar and the company. Unfortunately, she had very
little to add to the current conversation about a TV show she'd
only read about on Yahoo news.

Fiddling with her straw, she glanced around.
The patio was filled with people of all ages, from the barely
twenty-one to couples well over 60, and they all had tourist
stamped across their foreheads.

It was odd, but she felt completely out of
place. Not just with her colleagues, but in this bar. Like she
wasn't meant to sit in this wrought iron chair on this patio
drinking this famous drink. It felt off.

Which was ridiculous. She looked exactly like
most of the other patrons, with her trendy jeans, fitted black
sweater and heeled boots. She even had the same hair, the same
neutral makeup, heck, the same purse as half the women in the bar.
Somehow, it just didn't. Feel. Right.

She wondered suddenly what was going on at
Luxure
. What type of music was playing? Were people dancing
or just lounging around on velvet sofas? What was the popular drink
there? Were they even open yet?