Fools for Lust Read Free

feeling of control over people, men that they can see you but not touch?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Susi remarked. ‘My body is nothing special, but I love to show myself. Gives me meaning. It’s a bit confusing.’
    â€˜Your body’s great. You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,’ he answered. ‘But you must be careful. On the nude beach outside Vienna, with your girlfriend along, there’s an element of safety, but elsewhere it could be risky, you know.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Some people could read other things in your need to exhibit yourself. You could get yourself raped.’
    â€˜I know,’ Susi answered, with a slight sigh in her voice. ‘Sometimes, I even imagine what it would be like. Several men.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Yes. Five of them. First they fuck my every hole, then I am made to kneel, still naked, at their feet and they all jerk off and come in my face and hair.’
    â€˜A bit extreme ...’
    â€˜I know ...’
    He tried to lighten the mood. Already anxious as the darkness neared.
    â€˜The ultimate facial treatment. Better than soap!’
    Susi laughed and led the way back towards Bourbon Street.
    He described how Bourbon Street would be when Mardi Gras came. The noise, the coloured beads, the floats, the beer, the wonderfully hedonistic atmosphere that gripped the whole French Quarter, the fever that rose insidiously as the alcohol loosened inhibitions and the music from the bars of either side of the street grew in loudness, competing rhythms crisscrossing on every corner, clouding minds and bodies.
    How the revellers on the balconies would bait the walkers below, sprinkling them with drink, offering beads for the flash of a nipple or a quickly-bared backside to massive roars of approval from the wild crowds.
    He could see Susi’s eyes light up. Yes, she would enjoy Carnival here. No longer requiring an excuse to bare her parts to one and all and the more the merrier.
    â€˜And what happens behind doors?’ she asked him.
    He shuddered to think. He’d only ever stayed in New Orleans for the first night of Mardi Gras. Had heard mad rumours of uncontrollable excess, of sex in the streets. He’d once come across a range of video cassettes in a 7th Avenue porn joint in New York documenting the sexual side of Mardi Gras here year after year. But like with wine, he was unaware which were the good years or the bad years and had never sampled any of the cassettes in question.
    His mind raced forward. To a clandestine video cassette in a white box and Polaroid cover shot of Susi’s porcelain-white body, face covered with come, labelled “SUSANNE ‘LOLITA’ WIEN, MARDI-GRAS 1999”. A vintage performance, no doubt.
    Bourbon Street night deepened as the beer flowed ever more freely, spilling into the gutters from plastic cups being carried up and down the street by the Saturday night-revellers. The music surging from all around grew louder, the lights more aggressive and the crowds swayed uncertainly. Young kids tapped away for a few cents or break danced outside the bars, the neon signs of the strip clubs entered battle, pitting male strippers against female ones, topless joints against bottomless ones. A row of mechanical legs danced a can-can from the top of a bar window, advertising further displays of flesh inside.
    Susi was curious.
    â€˜I’ve never been to a strip tease place before. Can we?’
    â€˜Why not?’ he acquiesced.
    They entered the dark bar. A woman down to a shining lame bikini was dancing around a metal pole at its centre. A few men sat by the stage desultorily sipping from half empty glasses. They ordered their drinks from a sultry waitress and watched the stripper shed her bra with a brief flourish. The performance was uninspiring and the most exciting thing about the dancer for him was her gold navel ring which shimmied in the fluctuating light. His mind