“Now, darlin'.” Charles reached for me.
“No, sir!” I pointed at his enormous penis. “That is not happening. My brand-new pussy is not ready for that monster! Get your clothes on and go. I'm sorry to have wasted your time.”
“Aw, come on, now. You can't leave me like this.” He waved at his cock. “At least suck me off.”
“Excuse me?!” I snatched up a silk robe and yanked it on, the feathered cuffs fluffing with my fury. “I am a lady! I'm not a prostitute you can demand services from.”
“I'll reciprocate.” Charles winked.
I paused. Considered it. Decided against it. “No. If you get me spread out and wet, we'll have sex. And it will hurt. No can do. I'm not into pain. You gotta go.”
“Damn,” he muttered and pulled on his clothes.
“You need to warn a womanbeforethe clothes come off.” I pointed at him. “You can't just go springing a dick like that on some unsuspecting lady! You deserve this. Let it be a lesson to you.”
Charles chuckled. “All right.” He pulled out his wallet and removed a card. “If you change your mind or, uh, get more prepared for what I can offer, I promise I'll prepare you too. I know how to work with a tight pussy.” He grinned. “In fact, I prefer them.”
“Well, what man doesn't, darlin'?” I drawled, mimicking his accent.
He laughed and set the card on my vanity. “Yeah, you're right. But I promise it'll be worth the wait.”
“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll call. Go on now.”
Charles took my hand, kissed it, and left.
I smirked as I watched him leave. “Points for panache.”
Then I sighed and went out to the balcony to try to cool off. A few minutes later, Charles left the building. He looked up as if he knew I'd be there, and grinned. I waved and grinned back. That is, until I saw Mr Average from the bar standing across the street. Staring at me. Then glaring at Charles.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. “He's rich and psycho.”
But Mr. Average didn't follow Charles as I thought he might. He only turned his attention back to me. In his stare was something more this time. Something sorrowful and a little beautiful.
“Nope!” I pointed at him. “Uh-uh. I don't care who you are. If you're a lover reincarnated from my past, move along, buddy. I'm not interested. This is a new life for me. Go on now! Shoo! I'm gonna call the cops if you don't.”
The man blinked, stepped back, then, with a baffled expression, walked away.
I chuckled to myself. “It's probably the first time a woman has turned him down. Money makes average men interesting.” Then I scowled. “It can also make them scary. Shit. I'm gonna need a gun.”
Chapter Six
After the debacle with Charles, I left the house again. I wasn't about to sit around and pout over a penis problem. I've found that when I'm looking for something, the easiest way to find it is to look for something else. If I wanted a lover, I needed to look for something completely different. Plus, I needed a gun.
I googled where to purchase a handgun, discovered that you don't need a permit to buy or carry one in Louisiana, and drove down to the nearest shop that looked reputable. I purchased a pretty silver revolver with a pearl handle, some ammunition, and a lovely case for the gun, all without the salesman ever lifting so much as a brow at me. He did, however, inform me that despite Louisiana being a permitless concealed carry state—in other words, you can carry a handgun in your handbag—New Orleans does require a permit to carry a gun. The city laws override the state laws. But I didn't care about all of that. I mainly wanted it for the house anyway. Besides, I wasn't worried about the local police searching my purse.
After stowing my new gun in the trunk of my car, I decided to do a bit more shopping. Yes, more shopping. Lay off. You know you would too. So, I drove down to Canal Place—a shopping mall. It was busy. People didn't hurry much in New Orleans. So there were few shoppers hurrying to make their purchases and leave. The mall was for leisurely strolls,conversations with strangers, and maybe lunch with friends. The scent of roasting nuts, perfume, and air conditioning wafted around me with the murmur of voices speaking in two languages and a combination of both.
It had been a long time since I'd spoken French and the French that people spoke in New Orleans was not the French I remembered. Not exactly. Still, hearing the familiar words sent chills down my spine. Kinda silly for a woman who had once been a ghost.
“What does an ex-ghost do in a city known for its ghosts?” I snickered to myself as I strolled past kiosks and shops.
I was young, rich, beautiful, and in possession of my own body. I should have been thrilled. But the fun of shopping quickly faded. I kept staring into the brightly lit windows, trying to get the thrill going, and seeing only stuff. It was just stuff. I guess when your last home was made out of diamonds, it's hard to get excited over shiny things.
I sighed and smoothed my hands over my dress. “At least I can buy skin products. I need to keep this . . . oh, damn it! I don't have to do anything for this body.” Grimacing, I peered down the mall avenue at Saks. “Surely even an immortal needs moisturizer.”
With that thought lifting me, I headed into Saks, leaving Tiffany and Louis Vuitton in the dust. The very name turned me away from Louis Vuitton—enough with the fucking Louis!—and I've never understood the appeal of Tiffany. Sterling silver? Please. If I'm paying that much, I want gold. But hey, at least they use precious metals. And they do work with gold too. So, I could purchase gold versions of their popular items. Conversely, some of their elite competitors charge a crazy amount for basemetal jewelry. Yeah, I'm looking at you Chanel. I mean, really. How dare you?! The stuff is called costume jewelry for a reason—it's only masquerading as something precious.
I gravitated toward La Mer. Couldn't be helped. Yeah, it was a scam too, but I was a sucker for their packaging. I loved seeing the heavy glass bottles on my counter. And they'd truly be mine this time, not borrowed through Wren.
